#bg3 gift exchange

[mercymaker]

✦ 𝐖 𝐢 𝐬 𝐡 𝐈 𝐡 𝐚 𝐝 𝐲 𝐨 𝐮 𝐫 𝐟 𝐚 𝐮 𝐥 𝐭 𝐬

Here's my gift for @firstaidspray as part of the Baldur's Gate 3 Gift Exchange hosted by @zevlor & @carlosoliveiraa Hope you like this little edit of Anabel Lee and Raphael! ♥

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3edit #bg3 gift exchange #tav x raphael #this was such a fun time to work on! #and find out about other people's tavs!

[firstaidspray]

Neri and Rolan for @zevlor for the BG3 Gift Exchange that they and @carlosoliveiraa organized!! I had so much fun drawing Neri and it was interesting to draw Rolan since I typically don't. I hope I did them justice!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

#friends ocs #friend oc: neri #bg3 gift exchange

[jacobseed]

my gift to the lovely @hartsvale of their oc Aurelia & Rolan (rolan lovers unite <3) for the gift exchange i and @carlosoliveiraa hosted!

i hope you like this mo and i hope i did her justice!!! i got to learn so much about her and i adore her lots! just something soft idk

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The morning dawn rises in a warm, orange glow, dripping from the sky as if wet paint on a canvas, covering the landscape in its various hues. Birds sing sweetly in a melody, flitting and fluttering through the cool air. Nature stirs from its slumber, creatures and critters alike awaking with the sun to begin a new day.

The same was for Aurelia Dawnwright, bright eyed and refreshed as she takes a deep breath of the crisp air. 

A single pluck of the string on a lute thrums through the trees and a smile pulls the bard's red lips. Delicate fingers slow to play the cords, finding the perfect tune, but it comes naturally in a heartbeat. A gentle and almost mesmerizing chorus of sounds echo around the dimmed woods, rays of the morning light cascading through the leaves. The stillness of the world seems to come to life as the music plays- the birds singing along and the wind whistling through the branches. 

A crack of twigs and crunch of dried leaves interrupts the melody as Aurelia’s hand stills and she turns to the pale elf approaching her. He held an expression of annoyance and exhaustion, crossing his arms over his chest and watching her with heavy eyelids. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” 

“Good morning to you too, Astarion.” She hums and lightly plucks a few strings. “It’s still too early. Patience.” She preached the word but she herself was anything but patient. The itch to reach Ramazith Tower crawled on her skin and playing her lute kept her distracted for the time. 

Astarion lets out a short laugh and a sly smirk. He’s trying to deceive her. “I’m sure he’s already awake and waiting for you. The master of the tower should be up early to do his tasks, don’t you think?” He examines his nails as if even talking about this was boring for him.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him, debating his words in her head and strumming a single string repeatedly in a slow rhythm. Rolan could be waiting for her to arrive and entertain him now, sitting alone with nothing to do. “Maybe you’re right. Thank you, Astarion.” 

The spawn waves his hand as if shooing her away, nodding tiredly. “Yes, yes. Stay out as long as you like.” 

Aurelia narrows her eyes, shooting him a warning. He was pushing it. However, she stands and grabs her lute, chewing on her lower lip as she leaves the camp and sets off to her destination. She sings to herself on the journey, excitement among the many emotions she’s experiencing when thinking about the tiefling. 

Ramazith Tower came into view, the height of it disappearing into the dreary morning clouds as if ascending up into the heavens. The dark structure is decorated with various flora and colors to liven up the area. Holes in the building in need of repair were a good entrance if she's ever seen one and so she slips through the rubble, grinning at the sight of the tower.

She climbs the tower, glancing at the spines of books collecting dust and stepping over toppled stacks. As she climbs over the railing of the main room, it's empty without the presence of the wizard. Silence hangs heavy over the room aside from the wind outside the open balconies. Aurelia explores the floor, once again marveling at the length of the tower, the details of the interior- bronze metal framing and deep red fabric, but the most fascinating aspect is the strong pull of magic residing in its entirety.

Despite it's grand design, with the comfort of it's new master, the tower had a homely feel, safe and inviting. She steps up to the absurd chair made from stacks of books, walking around it, her fingers running over the spines of books lining the shelves of the wall, stopping on a worn hard bound cover, a faded blue with silver lettering.

Just another book on the history of magic, but to pass the time, she'd settle for scanning the words with absent interest than continuing her search for the owner. He would find her, as he always does. She settles into the chair and flips it open, but her attention kept wandering from the text to the décor around her.

"Aurelia?"

Rolan descend the tower, and stands at the railing of the floor above. He makes his way down the ladder and over to her and as he moves closer, she notices his hair is loosely tied up, disheveled and a few locks and strands had fallen out of the hold of the rubber band.

A brighter and wider smile forms as she sets the book aside, holding a hand out to him. “Rolan. Good morning.” 

He smiles warmly, a hint of sleep near his eyes and strewn in his features. Rolan hovers a hand over his mouth as a yawn escapes him, but his other hand slips over hers, palms together and fingers entwining. "I wasn't expecting you so early."

She pouts at his words, but he only chuckles and sits on the multiple stacks of books beside the chair, kissing the back of her hand, his lips soft and warm against her skin. Mentally cursing her companion for convincing her to leave the camp at the break of dawn, the thoughts quickly pass with the affection he was giving and she reaches out for him.

"I just couldn't wait to see you." Her other hand caresses his cheek and she slips a few loose strands behind his ear.

Rolan leans into her touch, curiosity in his eyes. "Is that why you broke into my tower?"

Aurelia bites her lip to stifle her grin. Of course he was joking - his siblings had already asked her to live with them. She was welcome any time, breaking in or not. "You should really get those walls fixed."

With the turn of her hand, he began to gently kiss the inside of her wrist and up her forearm before moving to his knees between her thighs, arms wrapping around her waist, resting his head against her chest. Sleep was still present in his features and her heart tugs that she had woken him.

"And what would you like to do for the rest of the day?" Rolan hums, long fingers moving up her spine.

There were a few things she could think of, pressed firmly against the heat of the tieflings body. Pulling the band and unraveling the bun of hair, she brushes her fingers through the locks and kisses the top of his head. "Well, we could go with the original plan; get dressed and have a date in the city." His arms tighten around her and she laughs breathlessly. "Or, we could stay inside and... enjoy each other's company."

"Music to my ears." He laughs, pulling his head back and kissing her lips quickly.

#bg3 gift exchange #*fic #userimogen #friend oc #oc: aurelia dawnwright #i hope it's soft enough i wanted it to be soft #but again i hope i got her right!! #also proofread?? who does that

[naggingatlas]

he should've worn gloves at least

#gale dekarios #astarion ancunin #bloodweave #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #part 1 of my gift exchange with satanbubbles!!!!! im glad you liked it :)))) #my first instinct designing wizard robes is to just smash a bunch of colors together and hope for the best im like mythbusters #yaurt

[raven-cat35]

Gwynn: So I'll get the Orphic hammer and you get the Crown of Karsus

Raphael: Correct, now sign here

Gwynn: It says "Marriage contract"

Raphael: Don't worry, this is standard wording

#gwynn is name of my tav #bg3 tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 shitpost #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #tav x raphael #incorrect quotes #bg3 incorrect quotes #they exchanged engagement gifts

[leftoverdinosaurbones]

Drawn Together

One-shot: Gortash x fem!Tav

This is a gift for @nusaran for the Elfsong Tavern’s Valentine’s Day gift exchange. Thanks for the fun prompts!!

Content Warning: NSFW (minors do not interact), little bit of smut (afab Tav), house fire

Summary:

It's a day of celebration at the Elfsong Tavern, which is bursting at the seams with decorations, ale, and patrons. Everyone is eager to partake in the festivities and express their love for one another.

Well, almost everyone.

Your mind is elsewhere tonight. You have yet to find your soulmate, though one person in particular has been consuming your thoughts. And he isn't the type to attend a party at the Elfsong Tavern. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be, anyway.

Set in game during Act 3 (spoilers!). You can read it below or on ao3.

Gale is in particularly high spirits this morning.

He hums softly and smiles to himself, like someone just shared the most delightful secret with him.

His hands work in their practiced way, pulling the most beautiful decorations from the weave. Soft pink pastels dance among deep burgundies while pearl white accents twist them together, joined by garlands of flowers. It reminds you of home. Of celebrations with your friends, your family. Of a lighter time, seemingly lifetimes ago.

His outlook on life has taken a turn for the positive these days, though you suppose having a new lease on life could do that for a man. Only just a few days ago, you convinced him not to sacrifice himself to the netherbrain - instead, you believed that he was worth sacrificing for. Even if that meant more danger in the future, or an unknown path. We would all do it, together.

You grip a bit tighter to the warm mug in your hands as you walk over to Gale.

“What are we celebrating?” You ask, coyly.

“Oh,” Gale breathes out with a deep, content sigh. He drops his attention from the weave and focuses his eyes on yours.

“You must know what day it is! What we are celebrating! We partook in the festival each and every year back home in Waterdeep. I assumed it was well-known in Baldur’s Gate as well, but given your reaction - and Astarion’s as well - perhaps you’ve been suffering without such a holiday your entire lives! Please, allow me to explain it to you. It is a celebration of love - the divine and sacred bonds between family, treasured friends, and lovers.”

His hand reaches out for your arm, gently squeezing near your shoulder before letting his hand drop back to his side.

“I just wanted to thank you, again. I know that I truly cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done for me. For every single thing you do for me. You’ve made me start to believe in myself again - to believe that I am worth lifelong friendship… and perhaps even love.”

Your eyes dart away from his to look towards the ground. He is being so vulnerable and forthcoming with you, like always. But you can’t help having this wall up between you, holding you back from letting him in. You bring your mug up to your lips to distract from the growing silence.

“…perhaps even love, with someone, one day,” Gale relents. “I know we are only fated to be friends, and I respect that. Our friendship means the world to me, I hope you realize that.”

Gale’s words are warm and sincere. You return his kind words with a soft smile, looking back up at him.

“I really appreciate your friendship too, Gale.” You settle down on a seat nearby to watch as he brings the weave back to vibrant life.

You know, deep in your heart, that Gale will find his perfect match. At least they will be relatively easy to recognize, given the unique scar decorating his chest.

While many people form relationships - largely temporary - with others without matching scars, that idea never appealed to you. Oh, perhaps a stolen night here and there, but never anything real. You couldn’t see opening yourself up to someone, to let them in so deep, just to have them leave you for their real soulmate.

Your eyes scan the room at the Elfsong Tavern until you find Astarion. He is sitting on the ground, cross-legged and hunched over something he was working on in his lap. His scowl is present in every feature of his face - his lips drawn into a tight frown, his forehead knit together in frustration, his eyes narrowed. You assume he is bitter about the festival, and it goes beyond the fact that romance makes him feel uncomfortable and self-conscious.

This festival would only serve as another reminder of the many impacts of his vampiric affliction. Though otherwise a good thing, his skin can heal on its own - therefore, he has no scars. He will never be sure of his soulmate like the rest of us. And so he certainly can’t be sure that Wyll is his soulmate.

Time and time again, Wyll has offered reassurance to Astarion. Wyll will claim that the matching scars don’t matter to him, that he knows what is in his heart, that his love will never stray to another. But you can see the fear behind Astarion’s eyes. And you understand it.

Even now, you see Wyll crouch down next to Astarion and start to rub his shoulders, leaning to whisper something in his ear. Astarion flinches from his touch, reflexively. You look away to give them at least a modicum of privacy within this shared living space.

Swirling the liquid in your mug, your mind is pulled back into the events from the other day, when you entered Wyrm’s Rock. After your confrontation with the guard and the Steel Watchers at the bridge, you were surprised to receive an invitation to Gortash’s coronation. Though, from everything you heard of the man, he did seem a bit full of himself. Of course he would demand your attendance to that charade of an event, in his honor. Especially after you so easily defeated Ketheric.

You aren’t entirely sure why you accepted a strategic alliance with Gortash. He was clearly a better choice than Orin, though logic could also assume that you need not choose to ally with either of your enemies. His words were tempting, a seemingly genuine and alluring offer of shared power.

But that wasn’t what tempted you. The way he moved towards you with cool confidence. His tall figure loomed over you as he drew near. He didn’t have the same physical presence as someone like Halsin, but he frightened you all the same. He didn’t need it to appear formidable. To be imposing.

When he gripped your hand in partnership, you could swear he held on for just a moment longer than necessary. His dark eyes lingered on yours before trailing, slowly, down your body. Your heart lept into your throat as a flush of heat warmed your face and brightened the tips of your ears.

You tore your eyes away from his, embarrassment washing over you. Though, admittedly, this wasn’t the only feeling you were experiencing… You hadn’t felt those kinds of stirrings within you before. Not for any of your companions, despite their (many) advances.

No. You shook your head to try to distance yourself from such thoughts. A man like that, a follower of Bane, knows how to pull you into his web. This isn’t personal - it’s his own strategic manipulation, just like he used Karlach.

“Here.” You are startled out of your memories by a tight, strained voice. You look up to see Astarion handing Gale a delicate, embroidered heart.

***

The Elfsong Tavern is a sight to behold tonight. Gale, as convincing as ever, was able to fill the room with decorations for the festival. He stood by the door to greet each patron and provide them with a rousing introduction to the holiday, whether they were interested or not.

You find yourself at the bar, sipping on a glass of wine. You glance around the room as it is filled with joyful guests. Some were paired off and dancing - Wyll gracefully led Astarion as they danced together. You recognize it as one Wyll had been practicing on his own for several nights at camp.

Others were locked together in deep conversation; Lae’zel and Shadowheart among them. Over the past few months, you’ve watched their relationship move from enemies to friends. You saw perhaps a hint of something deeper, here and there, but they didn’t seem ready yet to admit that to themselves. You smile into your wine as you take in a deep drink.

Karlach and Halsin were making their rounds throughout the tavern. Halsin made fast friends wherever he could, offering stories and friendship to anyone who might be in need of it. Karlach, with her recent upgrades and ability to touch people, was very eager to make up for lost time.

All around you, people were happy. Your companions were coupling up - perhaps not with their soulmates, no. But at least they had some companionship, some connection. Why does it matter if it is only temporary? You might not even make it through all of this alive.

With a heavy sigh, you push yourself away from the bar and walk out to the front patio. You rest your forearms on the railing, closing your eyes. No one at the tavern caught your interest, anyway.

Your mind begins to drift, filling with ‘what ifs’. What if Gortash were at this party? Would he even notice you? Has he been thinking of you? Does he feel as ridiculous as you do, pining over someone after one simple interaction? What if...

The smell of smoke fills your nostrils and rips you away from your thoughts. Your eyes snap open, scanning the sky for smoke. You see a small plume of it begin to stack and rise into the air. You feel your legs propel you towards it before you can even register your actions - you know you don’t have much time to think about a plan of action before it’s too late.

Soon, you arrive in front of a small home. Through the window, you can see the flames rising, building up in strength. Amid the smoke, you see a figure, hunched over and immobilized in fear. You cast misty step to get inside the house.

“I’m here to help!” you call out to the person over the roar of flames. They lift their head towards you, their face contorted between fear and hope. You see a back window nearby, close enough that they could escape.

“Step to the side!” you command, and they dive for shelter out of your path. You cast thunderwave to bust open the window so they can make their escape. Glass explodes out through the back, allowing enough space for the person to make a quick leave. However, the new opening allowed for a rush of fresh air to flood the house, adding new fuel to the fire.

The flames leap up with greater force, tongues lashing at the ceiling and quickly melting through the thatches of the roof. The force and ferocity of the flames knock you back, breaking your concentration. You lost the small opportunity you had to fly out of the house after casting your spell.

The walls of flames burn hotter around you and smoke starts to fill your lungs. Panicking, you fall to the ground, desperate for air, throat burning. If you had only taken the time to think, for even just a moment, perhaps you’d have called for help from Karlach before leaving the tavern. Or you could have asked for a Steel Watcher on your way.

One last idea comes to your mind as your body begins to shut down for self-preservation. You feel your magic build within you as you summon everything left inside. Eyes blurry, the spell leaves your lips in a whisper.

Slowly, heavy droplets begin to build into a steady downpour, dampening the roar of the flames. You welcome the stinging rain as bit at your cheeks, offering relief from the heat gathered on your cheeks. Coughing, you struggled to try to get up, weak from the inhaled smoke and spent magic.

Through your blurry peripheral, you notice a figure enter the house. Could it be one of your companions, looking for you? Grateful, you remained on the ground and raised a hand, hoping they could notice you and help you out of this mess. Heavy steps come briskly towards you, and you feel one arm scoop up under your knees while the other holds your back. They lift you up into their arms to carry you out of the building.

Exhausted, you let your head fall against their chest, clutching the fabric of their jacket with your hand. Rain continues to pour even outside of the house (how strong was that spell?). Completely soaked, you begin to shiver, in violent contrast to the state you were in only moments ago. They hold you tighter to their chest as they walk briskly, tirelessly, down the street.

Finally, you are able to open your eyes and register the direction you are going.

“The Elfsong Tavern is the other way,” you mumble softly, bringing your eyes back to your hand that is pressed against their chest. You freeze, a jolt sent straight down your spine. This body doesn’t feel familiar to you. Against all better judgment, you will yourself to look up.

You see his long black hair, plastered down against his face from the pouring rain. The rain traces his cheekbones and small wrinkle lines, outlining his features. His dark eyes catch yours. They look right through you, piercing, hardened, angry. Your body tenses as you flatten your palms against his chest, ready to push yourself away.

He lifts your body up slightly to press his lips into the top of your head.

“Don’t.” He whispers before bringing you back down again and pressing you against his chest.

You aren’t sure why, but you listen to him. You close your eyes and lean your head back into his chest.

***

Finally, you are inside. Warmth burns your cheeks, though your body is freezing from the wet clothes clinging to your body. You are brought to a room where he gently sets you down on a chair. He hands you a health potion, which you quickly drink without a second thought. The liquid starts to work immediately, repairing your raw throat and the other, thankfully minor, injuries from the fire.

Gortash bends over a hearth, coaxing up the flames. You are surprised to see him like this - Lord Enver Gortash, on his knees, making a fire for you?

He crosses the room in a couple of broad steps, soon standing at your feet.

“We need to get you out of these wet clothes.” Gortash extends his hand towards you.

You raise an eyebrow up at him.

“Unless you want to get sick, and make an embarrassingly easy target for Orin.”

Of course. That is what this is about. He is simply protecting his business partner. Protecting his assets.

You roll your eyes, feeling self-conscious about your earlier thoughts and curiosities about your potential relationship. You take Gortash’s hand with an aggravated huff, masking your hurt feelings and slightly wounded pride with a show of annoyance.

He brings his gold-adorned hands up to your shoulders. His fingers linger near the straps of your dress, the metal tips of his gauntlet ghosting your skin. Gently, he slips the straps off to the side of your shoulders. Surprised by the softness of his touch, a small gasp escapes your mouth.

He touches your shoulders again, urging you to turn around. You give in, the tips of your ears turning bright red as you face away from him. His fingertips drag, slowly, from your shoulders to the middle of your back. Though his touch is gentle, it scorches your skin, sending waves of white-hot heat through your body. You tighten your hands into fists, nails biting into your palms and bite your bottom lip to stifle any unintended sounds that threaten to escape.

His fingers find purchase on your zipper and he pulls it down, opening your dress to the bottom of your back. He brings his hands up to the top of your dress and drags it down your body, the wet fabric clinging desperately to your skin. He follows it down your body, around the dip of your waist, over the curve of your hips, down to your ankles, then helps you step out of dripping cloth. He hangs the fabric over a chair near the fire, with care. Who is this man?

You try to make sense of this. He is just helping you. Helping his business partner.

You turn back around to face him. The hair on your body stands on end as goosebumps fill your exposed skin. Gortash steps back in front of you, closer this time.

He reaches his hand to catch your jaw in his grip, the metal tips biting into your skin. He lifts your chin up, eyes blazing as he takes you in. Eager to consume you. You struggle to pull away, to shield yourself from his hunger, but his grip on your jaw is steadfast.

He swipes the pad of his thumb across your chin, tracing a faint scar. A deep sigh rumbles within his chest. With his free hand, he brings yours up to his face. You copied his movements, placing your fingers along his jaw, running your thumb along the scar on his chin…

Wait.

Wait.

No. That’s…that’s just a common scar. So many people have scars on their face. It will take more than just this to convince you.

With trembling hands, you reach up to unlace his shirt. You fumble a bit, unsure if it’s because of nerves or the sloppy way in which he laced it in the first place. Finally, you grasp the bottom of his shirt and pull it up over his chest, peeling off the wet fabric as it clings to his skin. You take in the sight of him, the fire casting a dim light and deep shadows across his features. Your eyes trail along his warm, tanned skin, watching the subtle flex of the muscles in his arms as he pulls the shirt over his head. Dark hair, damp and lightly glistening, decorated his chest down to his stomach, disappearing in the waistband of his pants.

But, most importantly, your eyes land on a spot on his side. Impulsively, you reach out a hand to trace the line etched into his skin, a jagged edge, poorly healed. You hadn’t been able to stitch it up well enough to prevent the lasting mark. And here it is - reflected in another.

You drew in a sharp breath as the reality of this situation came crashing down into you. Enver Gortash: The man who kidnapped your friend’s father. The man who betrayed your friend and damned her to the hells. The man who controls the Netherbrain, and wants to rule over all of Faerûn.

Your soulmate.

Gortash laces his fingers into yours and leads you to the bed nearby. He sits you down on the bed and steps back. His hands move, slowly, to unbuckle his pants.

You bite your lips, holding your breath.

He let his pants fall to his ankles, kicking away the gathered fabric at his feet. Your eyes flick down below his waist for just a moment, long enough to glimpse the size of him straining at his undergarments. Gortash meets your wide eyes with a lazy half-smile, the knowing smile of a man with a dangerous amount of self-confidence.

He parts your legs to stand between them, raking the sharp points of his nails up and down your thighs. You shiver, feeling a burning need start to wind up inside your core.

He continues his exploration, hands running slowly over your hips, your waist, and dragging up to your breasts. He cups one in each hand, massaging gently before bringing one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks and swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud, pinching your other nipple with his hand. You cry out, throwing your head back as you tangle your hands in his damp hair.

He releases you from his mouth to continue his slow worship of your skin, leaving soft kisses up your chest and over your shoulder. Once he reaches your neck, his kisses get more needy, more desperate. He opens his mouth to bite - hard. You gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist to press him closer to you. You know that are already leaking through your panties, and that doesn’t stop you from trying to grind your hips against him, making sure he feels just how badly you want him.

His mouth is replaced by his hand over your throat, metal-tipped nails digging sharply into your skin as he dulls your air supply. You bring your hands to the one at your neck, but his grip is firm. Your thoughts are swimming as you pull in shallow breaths, and you claw at his grip in vain. As he takes more and more from you, your need for him only deepens.

He pushes you back on the bed, caging you in with his arms around your head. A moment passes as you look at each other, his pupils blown.

You bring his head towards yours, inviting him in. His lips meet yours, tentatively at first, then mad with fervor - clashing against yours like a man starved. His tongue dances against yours, exploring your mouth, desperate to taste all of you. Your nails dug for purchase across his back as he groans into your mouth. You line your hips up with his, grinding yourself against his clothed erection, soaking it through. You wanted more, needed more of him, clawing and pulling at him to press you both together.

He breaks from the kiss, panting, and pushes his body off of yours.

“Ilyana.” Gortash says your name with confidence, possession. Hearing your name from his lips did something to you. You arch your back, keening towards him, wanting him - needing him - to take you. He slips off your panties and removes his last layer. You watch as his hard cock springs loose from his clothes, the tip of it already glistening with precum. Your body aches, desperate for him. He watches you writhe with anticipation as he slowly strokes himself.

“I have been waiting forever to find you. To have you. And now, you are mine.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 spoilers #enver gortash #gortash x tav #gortash x reader #bg3 smut #Elfsong tavern Valentine’s Day gift exchange #soulmates #bg3 gortash

[commander-krios]

Everything

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Rolan/Dammon Rating: Teen Summary: Rolan's had little time to himself since becoming the Master of Ramazith's Tower. Thankfully, he has friends willing to help him get a break. Words: 3924 Additional Tags: Gift Exchange, Tieflings, Romance, Love, Valentine's Day, Fluff, Post-Canon

Read on AO3

Elturel Tiefling Camp Discord Server Exchange treat for a few Dammon/Rolan lovers!

Rolan had begun taking his midafternoon meal breaks at the Elfsong Tavern, away from the bustle of Sorcerous Sundries. The first reason being it was quieter in the tavern during that time of the day, the majority of the inn’s guests sleeping off their nightly overindulgences while the rest made day trips into the city. The second reason was it made it more difficult for Cal to seek him out with questions about the mundane things, those things that could’ve waited the hour he took to eat and catch up on some reading. This was easier, simpler, and he could sit and ponder his own thoughts before trudging back to some disaster or another at the store.

When someone slipped into the unoccupied chair at his table, however, he was beginning to think that the Gods themselves were plotting against him.

“You look bored.”

Lakrissa watched him with a grin, pushing a glass of wine towards him. He eyed the drink suspiciously before glancing up at her, taking in the perfectly groomed ponytail that tumbled over her right shoulder, her chin propped in her hand, elbow on the table in an undisciplined manner.

“I didn’t order that.” Rolan said instead, ignoring her probing gaze to bury his nose in the book again. She didn’t take the hint, only nudged the glass closer to him. It was a bribe, he realized. For what, he had no idea. “What do you want, Lakrissa?”

She raised her eyebrows before a laugh escaped her lips. “Want? There’s nothing I want from you, mage-boy.”

“Then why-”

“Think of it as a thank you.” She reached into the little pouch on her side, pulling out a scroll, setting it on the table between them. 

Rolan stared at it, immediately recognizing the fancy calligraphy and stamp on the document. Swallowing nervously, he lifted the glass and drank deeply, refusing to be baited into the conversation. She had no proof it was him. The silence between them was tense, but when he finally returned the half finished wine to the table, he cleared his throat, glancing away from her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not stupid. You’re one of the only people who knew about the bard school. I figured it would be denied. Anti-tiefling sentiment is still high after all of this time, especially so soon after Elturel.” Lakrissa returned the scroll to her bag and replaced it with a hastily scribbled letter. Rolan knew Wyll Ravengard’s handwriting mainly from their recent correspondence. There was no mistaking it. “Wyll said you made a convincing argument about opening a school in a letter. His father approved it because of you.”

“I-”

“You don’t have to say anything, Rolan.” Lakrissa told him, securing the letter with the scroll once more. “You owed us nothing, but you helped anyway. So thank you.”

Rolan blushed, fingers trailing over the page of the tome in front of him. He liked Lakrissa, she was one of the only people who saw the reality of their situation from the start. Elturel, goblins, the shadow-cursed lands… and she continued on despite it all. Perhaps because of it all. Rolan had only made everyone’s lives more difficult with his ranting. But they’d still traveled with him and now he had the means to help everyone. He intended to use it.

But one thing he wasn’t expecting was sincere gratitude. 

Rubbing the back of his neck, his claws got caught in the strands of the hair loosened from his bun. “Uh, don’t mention it. Please, don’t tell anyone.”

At the pleading in his voice, Lakrissa grinned like a cat who caught the canary. Uh oh. “Oh, I won’t tell anybody. For a price.”

A groan slipped out and he buried his face in his hands. “Hells, what is it now?”

Lakrissa laughed, pouring another glass of Arabellan Dry. Then he watched through his fingers as she stood, tucking the chair back beneath the table. She glanced down at him thoughtfully, as if trying to best articulate what she wished to say. Or maybe she was trying to torture him more, he wouldn’t put that past her.

After a moment more, she sighed, waving towards the exit in the direction of Sorcerous Sundries. “Lia and Cal are worried about you.”

That was unexpected.

“Whatever for?” His hands dropped to the table and he had to resist the urge to grab the wine glass as a barrier against the uncomfortable thoughts that spun at the back of his mind. Worried? About him? All he ever did was worry about them, and now, they had everything they could’ve dreamed for. What was there to worry about?

“When was the last time you went out?”

Scrunching his nose in confusion, Rolan waved to their surroundings sarcastically. “What do you call this?”

“Hiding.” 

He scoffed in offense, but didn’t deny it. Because it was true in a way. He was hiding, mostly from Cal’s questions about the Sundries. “I was busy doing work before you so rudely interrupted me.”

“Oh, so rude of me to bring you wine.”

He rolled his eyes, noting her sarcasm but refusing to argue about something so stupid. She was being unusually nice today, but he figured she was as bored as he was, sitting here in the quiet tavern. If she wished to speak to him about something to alleviate that boredom, he’d gladly discuss wine, the latest novel, hells even the Gazette’s more recent gossip, but his personal life was not one of those things.

“How about this then?” She lifted the glass of wine and took a deep drink of it herself. Must’ve been a really slow day. “When was the last time you went out with Dammon?”

His blush deepened at the mention of the man who was… well, not quite his boyfriend, but something close enough. Digging his claws into the wood of the table, he caught the satisfied expression on Lakrissa’s face. She’d gotten under his skin and she knew it. “That’s none of your business.”

She let out a snort, refilling the wine one final time before setting it directly in front of him.

“Don’t you fret, mage-boy. Since you refuse to admit to doing something nice and taking the ‘thank you’ that comes with it, I’m going to find a way to thank you that you can’t refuse.”

“Why does that sound like a threat?”

“Think of it as a promise.” Ruffling his hair like he was one of the tiefling children, Lakrissa laughed when he reached up to knock her hands away in irritation. “And try to be less grumpy, Rolan. As much as it pains me to admit, you’re actually cute when you smile.”

Lakrissa waved before swiping the rest of the wine bottle from the table, leaving with his wild thoughts and burning cheeks. With one final look at the full wine glass beside his book, he pushed his chair back and made a quick exit, intending to put as much distance between him and the Elfsong as possible.

~~~~

“Alfira was here earlier.”

The next day immediately started off on the wrong foot. From the moment he’d woken up, a mischievous specter followed him, creating chaos everywhere he went. First, the lava elemental broke free of its compulsion, wandering outside and nearly setting a house on fire. Then, his projection started malfunctioning, and he had to stand at the desk for hours before Cal came down to relieve him. He’d also had to toss a few troublemaking kids out of the store for trying to steal one of Tolna’s books as a prank.

Gods, he still had a headache from the tongue lashing he’d gotten after.

And now he had to deal with this? It appeared Lakrissa wasn’t simply teasing him, after all.

Rolan glanced up from his accounting books, furrowing his brow at Cal’s words. There were very few reasons as to why the bard would show up at his store and he figured they all had to do with her girlfriend’s threat. “And? Did she say why she was here?”

“Yes.” Cal sauntered over to his desk before dropping a sealed envelope on top of his paperwork. “She left this.”

Rolan stared at the flowery pink paper envelope in concern. “And what is that?”

“Maybe you should open it and read it. It’s addressed to the ‘Master of the Tower’.” Cal sat beside the desk, putting his feet up on the edge. With a glare aimed in his brother’s direction, it only took a moment for Cal to get the hint and drop his feet back to the ground, a sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry.”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb. “I’m sure you already know what it says so please, enlighten me.”

Cal nodded, sitting up straighter and smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt. “They’re throwing a party. For the bard school’s opening. Alfira said it would be a huge favor to her if you came.”

Of course she did. It’d been weeks since he’d done much else besides sit at this desk and update the ledgers for the store: the vault inventory, the supply inventory, the accounting. Lorroakan hadn’t kept any sort of organization for the entirety of his time as Master of the Tower. Rolan didn’t even know if he turned a profit or steadily lost money.

“I have so much left to do-”

“Come on, Rolan. You helped them get the deed to the building. The least you can do is show up and celebrate with them.” Cal dropped his voice, his expression softening significantly. “You should go, have some fun.”

“Does everyone know about that?” Rolan sighed, feeling the fight leave him at Cal’s grin. He never did things for himself, but Cal and Lia… if it meant that much to them, he’d do it even if he hated every second. “Fine. But the moment somebody decides that I need to give a toast because I helped, I’m leaving.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that. No one is willing to stroke your ego. It’s big enough as it is.”

Rolan coughed to cover the laugh that threatened to expose him. “I think you need to spend time with someone who isn’t Lia.”

“You’re just mad because she’s right.”

Ignoring the barb, Rolan realized he hadn’t seen his sister all week. She hadn’t lived in the Tower for a few months now. The Flaming Fist barracks were comfortable enough and Lia refused to spend every quiet moment with her brothers (or so she said), but she at least visited on occasion. Strange.

“Where is Lia, anyway?”

“Oh, uh…” Cal rubbed the back of his neck and averted his eyes to the floor, pretending to study the intricate tiles. Rolan didn’t need to spell detect thoughts to know that his brother was running through a hundred different excuses for their sister, before choosing what was most believable. Whatever was next out of his mouth was going to be a lie. “She’s… working?”

“Are you asking me or is that your answer?” Rolan tapped his feather pen against the envelope, tempted to open it to see the words for himself. “Because last I remember, Lia works the overnight shift.”

“She’s picked up some extra work.” Cal rushed to explain, standing as if that would stop the interrogation. “Alfira mentioned Dammon would be there. If that changes things.”

“Oh?” He tried not to sound interested, but gods dammit, it’d been too long since they’d seen each other. Maybe a public appearance among drunken bards wouldn’t be as awful as he thought. If he managed to avoid the singing. “I might be able to squeeze in a quick word with everyone.”

He almost missed the smile on Cal’s face as he slipped out of the door. “Whatever you say, Rolan.” 

~~~~

The Elfsong Tavern was in chaos when he set foot inside. Drinks were poured freely, multiple bards were singing off key between hiccups, and others were guffawing and cheering along with the song. Or perhaps it was songs. None of the tunes were the same. Rolan spied Lakrissa near the bar, a glass of wine in each hand. She weaved through the crowd, a bright smile on her face as she watched the revelry. It was all a bit much for him, but he’d promised Lia that he’d make an effort to connect with the rest of the Elturel survivors.

He could do this.

“Rolan!” 

He turned as Alfira appeared at his side, and without warning, she threw her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly against her smaller form. Using her lute must’ve given her a set of strong biceps because for a brief moment, Rolan struggled for air. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you!”

She smelled suspiciously like a fruity wine and when she glanced up at him, Rolan immediately noticed her flushed cheeks. “Already drunk, hmm?”

Alfira giggled, nudging his arm as soon as she released her hold on him. “No, silly. I’m having fun. You do know what that is, correct?”

Lakrissa slid up next to them, holding out one of the glasses of wine towards him expectantly. When he only stared back, she raised an eyebrow before thrusting it into his hand. “Take it, dumbass.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“It’s your favorite.” Lakrissa said, handing the second glass to Alfira who took it happily. He slanted his eyes at her, immediately suspicious. “Drink up. Enjoy yourself. There are plenty of drinks to go around.”

He briefly considered asking her what her ploy was. She was definitely up to something, but decided an argument was a worse choice than simply drinking the wine. So, with a forced smile, he took a long sip, waiting for the inevitable hammer fall.

Rolan wanted to leave, these types of events always made him anxious about performing well enough to be considered ‘polite and stimulating company’, but this was their party and celebration. Even if he didn’t particularly enjoy being around all of these people, it wouldn’t be proper for him to rush off. The wine hit his tongue with its familiar woodsy flavor, the berry lingering as he swallowed it down. Lakrissa watched him intently, her mouth twitching into a smirk as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“If the crowd is a bit much, there are some fabulous views from the roof.” 

“Why would I-”

Slipping her arm around Alfira’s waist, she turned back to the party, glancing over her shoulder at him with a conspiratorial look. “You can thank me later.”

Once Alfira and Lakrissa blended into the crowd, the sudden desire to flee tickled his mind. It would be so easy to disappear, to return to the Tower and forget this entire night happened. He figured no one would even notice, too drunk and invested in the party to realize that a guest was missing.

But he hadn’t seen Dammon yet.

And despite everything he’d thought earlier, he really did want to see him tonight.

The best course of action would be to go to the rooftop where it would luckily be quieter and wait until Dammon either appeared or he didn’t. Then, he could slink off into the night with no one the wiser.

~~~~

The roof of the Elfsong was much quieter, though the rumble of the party could be heard beneath his feet. With a quick sweep of his gaze, he noted the cushions set up beneath a pergola and a small table with chairs off to the side. The air smelled strongly of flowers: roses, lavender, and fuchsia, a tantalizing combination that helped to ease the anxiety in his chest.

He breathed deeply of the cool night air, not cold enough to need additional layers, but enough to make him shiver slightly as a breeze loosened his hair from his bun. With a disgruntled sound, he attempted to gather the hair in his hands but the wind made it impossible. 

“Leave it. I like it down.”

His hands froze, the strands slipping from his fingers, and he turned, his darkvision making it easy to see what he’d missed during his first sweep of the area. A pair of piercing blue eyes ringed in gold, golden hair pulled into a bun over an undercut, and a set of familiar horns. 

His breath caught at the sight. “Dammon.” 

The tiefling blacksmith slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks, smiling up at him. He wasn’t wearing his usual garb, the things he wore in his day to day work. No, tonight he looked comfortable in a pair of dark slacks and a loose tunic, tucked into his waistband. Simple, but effective and Rolan couldn’t stop from staring.

“Fancy seeing you at one of these parties. I didn’t think you ever left that Tower anymore.”

Rolan flushed, grateful for the darkness and the wind blowing the hair in front of his face, if only to hide his embarrassment. “Yes, well, things have been busy. Swamped, really.”

Dammon’s gaze trailed over his robes, one of the dressier ones from Facemaker’s, bought at a price that he’d balked at before Lia forced him to hand the coin over. But with how the other tiefling’s eyes flitted across his chest at the gleaming gemstones and down the length of the sleeves at the elaborate embroidering, Rolan knew it was worth it. If only to be admired by him.

“Glad you could pull yourself away.”

There was no judgment, no anger or disappointment, just Dammon being… Dammon. Kind, understanding, accepting. He turned to walk to the edge of the balcony, his face hidden in the shadows. 

Rolan followed without even realizing it. They stood, side by side, so close that Rolan could feel the warmth of his skin on his own. It wouldn’t take much to reach out, take his hand, perhaps press a kiss to the inside of his wrist.

“Lia’s been helping out at the forge.” Dammon’s admission pulled him from his thoughts. The blacksmith glanced down at the street below, watching as the people milled about, laughing and drinking and singing. The party was in full swing, yet here they were standing above it all, watching the city shed inhibitions and find joy in the mundane. They were safe, they were happy, and they were free. “She’s been trying to lighten my load so we could… have this.”

“Some time to ourselves without the crushing weight of responsibility?”

Dammon chuckled, leaning an arm against the banister, eyes on a fixed point in the distance. For a man who worked with weapons most of the day, there was something so soft about him. It’d taken Rolan too long to figure out what it was. His eyes. When Dammon looked at a person, he saw many things but the first and foremost was that he saw their soul. Not the facade they put up, but who they were beneath. At one time, it scared Rolan to be seen so deeply but now… now he craved the horrifying ordeal of being known by another person.

Of being known by this man in particular.

Rolan sighed as Cal’s sudden onslaught of questions, all in regards to the running of Sorcerous Sundries, began to make more sense. “It seems Cal was trying to do the same.”

The sounds of a lute and a lyre floated out of the windows of the Elfsong and people on the streets began to spin in a dance of wild limbs and stumbling feet, too drunk to do much else besides rocking back and forth or falling. The rest of the city stretched out ahead, lights flickering against a velvety black backdrop, the stars above burning as brightly as the streetlamps.

He didn’t know what possessed him. Maybe it was the Arabellan Dry still tingling on his tongue. Perhaps it was the beautiful sounds of Alfira’s lute from below. Or it could’ve very well been the fact that his family, his friends, the people who cared about him, had done so much to give him this peace. 

Rolan’s hand slipped into Dammon’s, noting how easily their fingers slotted together. 

He’d always wanted somewhere to call home. For years, it had been Cal and Lia and the little family they’d built out of the ashes of their lives. But the upheaval by the descent into Avernus, the difficult road traveled to Baldur’s Gate, Lorroakan and everything with the Netherbrain… he didn’t think he’d find happiness again, only pain.

He was grateful to be completely wrong.

“What are you-”

“Shh.” Rolan tilted his head to the side, nodding to the dancers below, a smile curling his lips. “Do you hear that?”

Dammon raised his eyebrows, amusement flitting across his features. “The music? It’s kind of difficult not to.”

“And what do people do when they hear music, Dammon?”

The blacksmith rolled his eyes, but his face softened more than Rolan thought was possible. He straightened, turning towards Rolan with expectation. “Why don’t you tell me? So I don’t get it wrong?”

Butterflies went to war in his stomach, but the challenge in Dammon’s eyes was intoxicating. He was going to make him say the words. Despite his intelligence, his knack for learning and doing things his own way, Rolan struggled with the right words. But action, that was easier. 

His free hand slid along Dammon’s waist, their entwined hands turned into proper position. When Dammon met his gaze again, his eyes burned like blue fire ringed in gold. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his heart pounded out like a war drum in his chest, but he managed to force a single question out before he lost his nerve. 

“Dance with me?”

Dammon’s eyes widened slightly before a grin spread across his face. His hand tangled in Rolan’s loose hair, strands sliding his fingers. Then he leaned in, lips brushing softly against Rolan’s, the contact a shock but a welcome one. His mouth was warm in the cool night, and he drank him in like a man who hadn’t touched a drop of water in days. His skin burned, his heart threatened to dance right out of his damned chest, and still, it wasn’t enough. 

Rolan shifted closer, wrapping both arms around Dammon’s waist, deepening the kiss with a swipe of tongues and teeth. Everywhere their bodies touched, Rolan felt like he was on fire, flames beneath his skin threatening to burn him to ash. And it would be a good way to go, he thought, as the kiss finally broke.

Because with the way Dammon was staring up at him, smiling like he was nothing more than a drunken fool, Rolan understood. What they had was important, as important as anything else in his life. And he was going to fight like hell for more nights like this.

“I thought we were supposed to be dancing.” Dammon whispered, breath ghosting against Rolan’s cheek as a laugh left his mouth. 

“Do you want to?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt. “Dance, I mean.”

Dammon ran his hand through his hair again, but his gaze never slanted away. Chills ran down Rolan’s spine at the intensity of his eyes that he almost didn’t hear the words. “It was your idea, but I like this too.” His lips brushed against Rolan’s briefly before he pulled back, nothing but tenderness on his face. 

And Rolan couldn’t help but agree. 

This was nice.

It was everything.

#my writing #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 rolan #bg3 dammon #bg3 lakrissa #bg3 alfira #rolan x dammon #dammon x rolan #gift exchange

[astarioffsimpmain]

A Darling Evening (Tali & Astarion)

[Screenshots by @snowfolly]

Astarion x Taliesin Straeth (Snowy's OC)

Warnings: None; fluff!

Synopsis: Astarion finds a way to turn a rainy evening into something romantic.

Author's Note: This is my gift to @snowfolly for the Astarion Brainrot Valentine's Day Gift Exchange! Their OC Tali was a lot of fun to write, and I'm happy to post this here for them! <3

She huffed, a frown creasing her features as the rain pattered against the windowpane. "I was going to test our new find today. But no birds are going to be out in this weather." 

"And what exactly is that little trinket supposed to do again, Tali darling?" Astarion asked, deep in concentration as he stitched a design into one of her hats. 

"This little trinket," she produced a whistle the size of a pen from her pocket and slipped it through several of her fingers, admiring it. "Is supposed to make birds fly backwards for as long as they hear the song." 

"And when the little feathered twits end up crashing against a tree-?"

"They don't! That's the beauty of it. It's as though they don't even know they're flying backwards. They can see just as well as if they're flying forwards. The birds will never know the difference. But we will. We get a free show." She chuckled, tooting a note from the flute with a wiggle of her head before letting her hand fall back to her side as she sent a sidelong glance at the rain outside; staring deprecatingly at it as though it would cease just to lift her mood. 

"Well, my love, I am afraid the birds must wait." Astarion replied absent-mindedly, his brow creasing as he doubled back on a stitch that was not cooperating. 

"Well, what in the hells am I supposed to do now? And before you suggest it, I am not reading another one of the books Gale sent over right now. I'm not sure I can stomach more jargon on dissecting the magical properties of the Orevine plant." You rolled your eyes and your lover chuckled from where he sat. She leaned against the windowsill and stared at him, softening as she observed the wrinkles on his forehead and the laugh lines on the outsides of his eyes - things he would perpetually deny having as an eternally young creature of the night, but things she loved nonetheless. His eyes scanned his work tirelessly, obsessed with getting everything just right. He was a perfectionist through and through with his creations, which was surprising, considering the amount of chaos he wrought in most other areas of his undead life. But he plopped his work down suddenly and met her fuschia gaze with his discerning crimson one. 

"Well, darling, if all you plan to do for the rest of the afternoon is stare at me, then I suppose I must find something for us to do, hm? However much I enjoy seeing you observe my beauty." She scoffed and rolled her eyes at the tease, but a smile threatened to cross her lips nonetheless. She quirked a brow at him, curious to see what he had in mind. In the perfect image of beauty and grace, he rose from the chair he was perched in and swept through the small kitchen of the cabin the two of them had been staying in for around a week now and down the stairs of the adjacent door. The owners were… probably, on vacation somewhere, and had left a stocked-enough cellar for Tali to live on until she and Astarion decided to move on, or the owners decided to return. She padded down the steps after him and found him rummaging around a worn iron storage container before pulling out a bottle of mead, a block of cheese, and a small box of strawberries. “It isn’t a strawberry tart, darling, but it’ll have to do.” he mused, turning the box this way and that to see how the fruit was faring. 

He seemed to decide it was worthy of his lover after several seconds of looking it over and nodded curtly to himself, turning around and traipsing back up the steps with Tali on his heels. “Take these out in the rain and wash them off, won’t you, love?” Astarion smiled sweetly, a hint of flattery glimmering in his red-wine eyes. 

Tali merely laughed, taking the box of strawberries from him and stepping out onto the porch. There was a generous overhang, so she remained mostly dry as she held each strawberry out into the pouring rain and brushed off any possible dust or other unseen remnants with the pads of her fingers before gathering them back into the box and bringing it back in to where her lover was waiting, an apron acquired from gods know where, fastened around his slim waist and a knife in hand. “Oh, is my darling lover going to bake something for me?” Tali nudged playfully and Astarion scoffed. 

“Don’t get carried away, love.” he prodded her with his elbow as she came up beside him. “You know my specialty is to cut up, not put together.” he grinned over his shoulder at her, showing his fangs, before beginning the process of slicing their snacks. Tali chuckled and sidled up behind him, slipping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his back, humming as his laughter rumbled through her. She melted into him, allowing her eyes to fall closed as she recognized yet again how lucky they were to have found each other, especially after all they had suffered. Love was never supposed to be in the cards for her again, not after Margot. A small pang clenched her chest at the memory of her first love, but it was different now than it had been in the past. While she still held regrets, and knew she always would, there was a new sense of peace that had found her, and she knew her vampire was to thank for it. 

“If I am to make a new life after all of the pain I caused,” he would often say to her, “then you can as well.” He loved to use her words against her, but to bring her peace instead of suffering, and while it was all the more irritating that the advice was her own, she was thankful for the reminders. She smiled and nuzzled her nose in between his shoulder blades, taking in a slow breath of his bergamot, rosemary and brandy scent. There was an edge to the scent, one she knew to be his natural decayed skin, and she smiled. One of the first comments she had made once they made their relationship official was how much she liked that extra tang of his natural scent mixed with his cologne. She had nearly laughed her head off when he had looked at her with so much shock and affront that he resembled a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “You’re mad.” he had settled on as a response, grinning and shaking his head in disbelief. 

Tali giggled softly against Astarion’s back at the memory and he offered her a glance over his shoulder. “What are you giggling about like a madwoman back there, my darling? It is quite distracting.” His tone was chiding, but she knew there was a smile on his face and wriggled against him. 

“Just remembering when I told you I liked your natural scent.” 

“Oh gods, yes. I knew you were just mad enough for me when you proudly proclaimed being aroused by the scent of rot. It was all over for me at that very moment, pup.”

A cackle burst forth from her lips then and she let go of her lover to clutch her stomach. “I- hahaha! I think the f-fact that… ahahahah! That I liked you covered in gore hahaha! Would have been a sign! Ah hahaha!”

Astarion smiled down at the strawberries he resumed cutting in triumph, pleased with himself for lightening his dear Tali’s previously soured mood. He would never say the words out loud, but he couldn’t bear it when she was upset. She was his light, his sunbeam in his world otherwise plunged in darkness, and when she was down, a painfully tight coil squeezed around his undead heart. 

They chatted for awhile longer while Astarion finished with the snacks and uncorked the mead. "Well, my love, it seems as though they don't have very fine glasses for their liquor, which is a true shame, but I've found something that will do for now." He tutted as he pulled several well-worn glasses from the cupboard and wiped them out with a cloth. He had placed the cubes of cheese and slices of strawberry onto a plate and gestured for Tali to grab it and the glasses. Once her hands were full, he took the bottle of mead in hand and made for the front door. Dusk was fast approaching, but where a sunny day would have made it impossible for the vampire to be out at this hour, the rain had provided enough cloud cover that he was able to step out with ease. 

"Alright, those go here." He pointed to the short table that sat a few feet from the door and Tali relieved her hands of her haul. Astarion set the mead down between the two glasses, then turned to look at her expectantly. 

"Okay… what now?" Tali crossed her arms and chuckled at her lover's antics. 

"What do you mean, "what now?" Come now, love, you do remember how camping works, don't you? Pillows, blankets, anything to keep the ground from feeling like what it is. Off with you!" He shooed her towards the door with wild gesticulations and a laugh burst from her mouth. 

"Well why can't you get them, my big strong vampire?" She teased, referring to his boost in strength post-tadpole. 

"I had the idea, and I handled the food, darling, now it's your turn. You knew you were the manual labor in this relationship the moment you agreed to it, don't deny it." He tsked, folding his arms across his chest. 

"Alright, alright." Tali chuckled, getting to work. 

Soon, all the pillows and blankets in the house had been pooled onto the front porch where Tali and Astarion were now curled up. "The candles were a nice touch, my love." Tali murmured, glancing over to the single candelabras that held the family's bedside table candles, each one lit and waving gently in the cool night breeze. 

"Mmm I am known to be quite the connoisseur of romance, you know." He crooned from where his head lay in her lap. 

"Oh yeah?" Tali giggled, her fingers continuing a tender path through his soft curls. 

"Mhmm" Astarion hummed, his eyes closing as he pressed into his lover's gentle touch. 

"Well, I must say I agree, Mr. Ancunin. You have won me over, although at times quite begrudgingly." A smile quirked his lips, his only response to her ribbing. It wasn’t satisfactory enough for Tali though, who leaned down to press a long, amorous kiss to his beautiful plump lips; one he responded to immediately, threading his long fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head and neck. 

"I love you, Astarion." She muttered against his mouth and he chuckled softly, his breath hitting her lips. 

"I know, my darling… and you've won me over as well." He replied, pulling her lips to his once more. 

fin

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tali #taliesin straeth #other people's tavs #other's ocs #valentine's day gift exchange #snowfolly #baldur's gate 3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 tav #happy valentine's day

[space-blue]

Beach Day

Valentine piece for @blacknight-darksky of their Tav Dori and Astarion hitting the beach while he can be in the sun!

#elfsong tavern valentine exchange #bg3 #tav/astarion #astarion #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #tavstarion #fem tav #bg3 fanart #astarion fanart #astarion ancunin #astarion art #baldur's gate 3 #my art #gift art

[wildlymish]

The Past, Present and Beyond

A gift for @captastra featuring their Tav, Everlith, and Gale, sharing about the then, now and after while huddled up by the fireplace. Everlith is absolutely gorgeous, and I hope I did her justice in this piece. Hosted by @zevlor and @carlosoliveiraa No warnings apply.

 In the darkest hours of the night, in a quiet wizard’s tower, Everlith laid on the floor, a cushion under her head, and Tara curled up by her side. The wait for her lover to return took longer than expected, resulting in her unexpectedly falling asleep near the fireplace. 

The creak of an opening door and the sound of footsteps stirred Everlith awake. She blinked to get rid of the groggy feeling in her eyes.

“Mm-Gale?”

“My love!” A startled, familiar voice rang out. A shadow walked up to her, a hand placed on her shoulder and a sigh of relief came out. “Forgive me, I did not mean to awaken you from your slumber.”

“Don’t apologize,” Everlith said, followed by a yawn. “I was waiting for you to arrive.”

Tara also awoke and stood up, stretching. It had taken some time for Tara and Everlith to become close but when Gale is not around, she would spend a lot of time glued to the cleric’s side when Gale wasn’t around. Gale had even remarked in the past that she would refer to Everlith as “Mrs Dekarios”, but Everlith wondered if that was Gale’s way of helping the girls bond.    

The Tressym walked over to Gale for her mandatory scritches, but soon looked Gale up and down, meowing in a manner that sounded like a mother cat scolding her kitten.

“Tara,I can explain,” Gale began, before Tara meowed again. “Of course I’m not replacing you, I just-” Tara seemed to want none of Gale’s explanations, before she simply walked away. Sighing, Gale walked to Everlith, knelt down and kissed her on the cheek.

“Surely the bed would have been a more suitable place to fall asleep upon,” Gale noted, half jokingly and half out of concern. “For a moment I thought I’d have to ring up the local healer.”

Evie pushed herself into a sitting position, stretching, “Falling asleep on the floor was not exactly how it was meant to go.”

Now that Everlith was able to come to her senses, there was very little light, save for Gale’s lamp that he arrived with. In the fireplace, the remnants of the fire remained, orange and red in the embers.

“The fire’s gone out.” Everlith was about to get up, before a hand on her shoulder urged her to sit back down.

“Allow me.”

With that, Gale moved to the fireplace, and with a wave of his hand, fire began to crackle, before growing bigger until the room was lit by a soft orange glow. 

Gale never missed an opportunity to show off.

The wizard sat behind Evie, and pulled her close to him. He kissed her on the cheek once again, arms wrapped around her, before he buried his face into the crook of her neck, a content sigh escaping from his lips..

“Someone had a busy day,” Everlith concluded from how he was a little more needy than usual, which elicited a chuckle from the wizard.

“There was an incident at the Academy,” Gale began. “We had the rather unfortunate privilege of witnessing one of my students, Elaine, summon rabbits. Dozens of them. Right at the end of the day. After a long earful from her parents about how it is our fault that we are ‘limiting her potential’. I suppose that was how Elaine let out her frustrations about her limited potential.” Gale chuckled. “We spent the rest of the night trying to find all of them. Believe me, you have no idea how many crevices a rabbit can fit into.”

Evie giggled, pulling a piece of white hair that was on Gale’s robes. “Well, that explains the white fur on your robes. And why Tara seemed so angry.”

As if on cue, Tara gave another annoyed meow.

Gale scoffed. “She knows I would never replace her.” He reached to place another kiss on Everlith's cheek. “Now, tell me, how has your day been?”

“I've been looking at some of our wedding plans.”

Gale raised an eyebrow.

“I haven't changed anything, I was just going over them.”

“Anything that caught your eye?”

“Well, I’m assuming there is no compromise about the guest list.”

“You know how my mother is, she would not stand for a ceremony such as this to be small. Not in the Dekarios family.” 

Everlith chuckled, her mind going back to the Wintershield festivities not too long ago. The Dekarios family had proven to be just as eccentric as Gale had warned her about. And she had not even met the whole clan.

Evie’s thoughts soon traveled to her own list of guests. To say it was shorter than Gale’s was an understatement. Spending so much time traveling as a cleric of Selûne, she never managed to make many lasting bonds. It was only when she was abducted by the mindflayers did she manage to make such bonds, which included Gale.

She wished they could have been there.

“What’s on your mind?”

Evie had not registered that Gale was even talking to her. She took a moment to process what he asked.

“I was just thinking about our companions,” Everlith replied. “A part of me miss their company. I even wish they could be there.”

They each had their own problems. Lae’zel, Karlach and Wyll, Halsin, Astarion… it was even a risk to extend an invitation to her fellow Selûnite, Shadowheart, with the risk of Sharrans potentially attacking.

When Everlith first moved to Waterdeep with Gale, she had noted how quiet their new environment was without them. Without constant bickering between Shadowheart and Lae’zel, or Astarion’s sass. Without Wyll and Karlach’s enthusiasm for life. Halsin’s musings on nature. Jaheira and Minsc’s banter that would make her question whether these two were actually friends.

“How curious of you to point that out,” Gale mused. “Because I received a letter written from someone with a very distinct voice.”

Evie raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

Gale pulled out a paper from his pocket, handing it over to Everlith. She looked at Gale, still unsure, before she began to read it.

The letter had been written by Withers. An invitation, gathering her, Gale and their allies to the forest where all their mishaps began. For a celebration.

Evie slapped Gale playfully. “And when were you going to tell me.”

Gale laughed, feigning injury. “It had only just arrived now! I was planning on telling you in the morning, assuming that you had been asleep in our bed rather than the floor.”

Evie shook her head. “Alright, fair point.”

“We will have plenty of time to attend before the ceremony.”

Excitement bubbled in Everlith. To think she would be able to see her allies once more. Close compatriots. 

“Of course, it is entirely up to you whether you wish to attend or not.” Gale gave a small bow. “Your wish is my command.”

Everlith laughed, turning her head and cupping Gale’s face so that she could pull him into a kiss. Gale’s hug tightened a little bit as he moaned softly, causing Evie to smile. Once she pulled away, she nodded.

“Only if you’ll be there with me, darling.”

Gale’s brown eyes twinkled in the firelight. “I would not wish for it to be any other way.”

Tara had returned after a moment of what Gale would likely call sulking, as she hopped onto Everlith’s lap. She smiled, running her hands along the Tressym’s fur. She hissed, however, when Gale attempted to do the same.

Gale raised his hands defensively. “She’ll come around.”

Everlith laughed once more.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gift exchange #baldur's gate #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #everlith #bg3 tav #tav #bg3 oc #cleric of selunce #gale x tav #gale x oc #gale romance #baldur's gate 3 gift exchange

[stinadrawsthings]

My part of a 2023 Holidays gift exchange

#astarion #Tav #Gift Exchange #bg3 fanart

[notesappwitch]

i think i've been going through it, and i've been putting your name to it

For: @hitlikehammers // hitlikehammers on ao3

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 10,415

Warnings: No Archive Warnings//Period-Typical Homophobia

Tags: Post-Canon, AU Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, First Time, Getting Together, the horrors of capitalism, Steve is a librarian, robin works at a gay bar, see ao3 for explicit tags

Summary: 

“I want it to be known that I am making a very conscious effort to be super cool and positive about this,” Robin goes on a minute later. “It is very hard to not be totally emotional about this, but we don’t do well when we are both having meltdowns, and I think I had the last meltdown.” “Uh huh, over Stacy.” Steve inhales a laugh. “You really know how to pick ‘em.” “What’s that?” “Girls with curly hair, sharp faces, and a stick up their ass, who are also, usually, straight.” “Why are they at Leslie’s if they’re straight?” Robin moans as she whips around a corner. “And why are they so mean to me when I just wanna make ‘em feel nice?” “Some of us are gluttons for punishment.” “No, some of you are into S&M, and some of them are straight girls who never want to have a real orgasm.” “You just gotta get past the Nancy look-a-likes.” “Says the guy trying to fuck a ghost!”

This fic is a part of the @steddieholidayexchange

read on ao3

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #ok now back to ur regularly scheduled bg3 content-- #steddie holiday exchange #gift fic

[scorchedcandy]

Erm is there a TES and/or BG3 Secret Santa / gift exchange sort of thing and if not, would people be interested if I set up one 👁️

#art and fic and so on so anyone can contribute #maybe a fantasy gift exchange and u can select what ur interested in creating/receiving like tes bg3 dnd etc #I’ll make a real post for guidelines and the thing where I’d collect what ur interested in creating/receiving later if people show interest #id probably gather interested people until like late november and then distribute people on december 1 #rolling deadline december 25 - january 1 #bg3 #tes #dnd

[voigtvir]

and if i say this moment where tav gets shocked from the sigil gale is stuck in is cal and gales first romantic moment am i being too deranged

#its just like.ok #so cal has No magic. at all #i know that in dnd #only like. sorcerers have Inherit magic #wizards like gale. get their magic from Studying #but cal has tried #hes done the littlest baby steps one can #and nothing <3 #it is not something he will ever be able to wield #i dont have lore reasoning for this idk how this would work in dnd lore just #hear me out he cant wield magic thats it #he is among the many bg3 characters who feels abandoned by gods and the way magic has touched his entire family #(bard mother and sibling. druid father.) #does not Help that feeling #so the weave scene? fucking incredible #and while gale may claim the comfort of the weave #is from mystra #in cals mind. thats all gale baby #its Gale who gave him this gift. no god. #anyways this shock is the first twinge of magic exchanged between them so. so its #ok

[naggingatlas]

he missed two (they're making pilaf)

#gale dekarios #astarion ancunin #bloodweave #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #part 2 of the gift exchange!!!!! #really happy w how asnotrions face came out here. he went to the dungeon that makes you old

[ransprang]

Can I request headcanons for bg3 (basically the whole party) for the holiday seasons? (Fem aligned pronouns) Where reader was isekai'd from our world and she asks the party about holidays and is kind of bummed out theres nothing really similar to Christmas since its one of her favorite holidays. So When it gets cold out reader buys everyone a gift and wraps it with birch bark to surprise everyone? If you dont want to do the holiday thing maybe just reader who gets Isekai'd and has zero idea what to do and is really scared of everything because she has no idea whats going on?

hii thank you for the request, and have a happy holiday season!

BG3 x Christmas HCs

Astarion

looks at his Christmas gift “what in the hells is that?” “Is it poisonous or does it explode?” He just can’t fathom you’re just giving him a present. No ones ever been kind to him let alone share festive gifts. Eventually he will show up at your door naked “Is this a ‘Christmas’ enough present for you?”

He can’t stop laughing when you convince the rest of the camp to wear Christmas hats, “Clowns.” He calls them. You have to nudge him hard for him to stop ruining the festive spirit.

⁠”Is this Santa of yours a vampire? I mean..if he only comes out at night and punishes the naughty ones,” he gives you a smirk

Withers

"Ah the annual rite of gift-giving on the solstice. I do not value such material possessions but the sentiment is not lost on me." He will accept your gift but you will never see him use it.

Will show up at camp wearing a small Santa hat on his bald head. Will not answer any questions about it.

Sometimes you think if you hear him humming jingle bells but you can never make out the words because it's in some archaic dead language.

Laezel

touched your present with a stick “What is that? Are you trying to kill me?” She has a disgusted expression. Why would you spend your time getting her a gift instead of finding a solution for the parasite?

After a while of convincing, she’s ready to open it. She has a soft smile and doesn’t let it show that it actually made her warm even for a second.

After you sit her down and tell her the Christmas lore she rolls her eyes “Your kind disappoints me.” You tell her about the magic of Christmas as she smirks condescendingly “Whatever go do your thing, I’ll watch.”

Once she learns the carols and traditions there is no stopping her. She’s a woman who believes in long-standing institutes and traditions and she will uphold yours with pride too when she gets used to it.

Halsin

the way this man would hug you after receiving a gift ugh. you cannot tell me gift giving isn't one of his love languages, so he'd really really appreciate it

he keeps a very open mind while listening to you talking about Christmas and the traditions you practice. Being a druid he has his own rituals and beliefs which others judge so he is open

whittles you a wooden figurine of your favorite animal or of your pet from your world if you can describe it in detail

he would love the gift exchanging part of the tradition. he’d get everyone a gift, not as intricate as the one for you though. Maybe more so around herbs, flowers and potions

Shadowheart

"oh my, a present.. for me?" she'd be surprised that you even thought of getting her a gift

when she unwraps the gift she'd have a small smile on her face, "thank you y/n. this is very thoughtful of you. i'll remember this."

she’d be tad jealous that your beliefs are so fun. she’d lowkey wish Shar/Selune had celebrations that got people together

Gale

"A present? for me?", being locked up in his tower for so long he is quite taken aback.

"Why, where are my manners, thank you y/n. I do wish you told me about this tradition of yours. I'd have gotten you something. No matter, once we get the guests in our brains out, I'll make sure to get you something."

he'd use his magic to try and conjure up snow no matter where the party is camping

Minsc

Minsc gets very excited by whatever you get him since it's the thought that counts. "Look at what y/n got us Boo"

he sees how your eyes light up as you talk about Christmas so he gets equally excited for you

Minsc would dress up Boo in a red hat and green jacket (don’t ask how he got them)

nooooooot the best gift giver. he isn’t crafty, so he may end up making you arrows and a bow. but his smile is so big and bright that you’ll have to pretend to really like it

Wyll

He surprises you with a thoughtful gift before you can even give him one. His noble upbringing covered the strange Christmas customs of your land.

"To have you in my life is gift enough, my love. You didn't have to get me anything, your smile alone would have sufficed." Nonetheless, he accepts your gift with an elegant bow.

You both do a slow waltz to every single Christmas song you hear, no matter what the tempo or the lyrics are. You are simply too lost in each others' eyes to care.

Karlach

"Presents! For me? You're kidding!" She would run around camp like an excited toddler with her gifts. You would have to remind her to calm down so she wouldn't burn down the place.

"Thank you, soldier. I love it so much," she would grin at you. She would ask a lot of questions about Christmas and fall in love with the holiday. Gifts, food and wine, all of it would sound amazing to her after spending so many years in Avernus.

She would get really into the celebrations and her joy would be infectious. Watching her bust out her hip-hop moves during Silent Night would be the highlight of your evening.

Jaheira

"Oh, you got me a gift? How nice. See you can be kind to your elders." She would make fun of you in the moment but appreciate the gift nonetheless.

"It's not a knitted blanket for grandma, is it? I'm not ready to retire just yet."

Being a druid, she's not interested in the religious elements or traditions but joins in heartily for the eggnog and anything else booze-related.

your gifts,

admins sar, san & sav

#bg3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate #shadowheart #lae'zel #karlach #wyll #jaheira #minsc #halsin #withers #gale #gale x reader #halsin x reader #karlach x reader #laezel x reader #wyll x reader #shadowheart x reader #minsc x reader #bg3 withers