#then halsin sat for some reason

[normal-thoughts-official]

sometimes i straight up hope they don't fix this game's bugs

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #im crying like. so many different bugs had to happen at once for this to be possible #first voss had to not go to the taproom so i had to carry him #then instead of carrying he just started squirming on top of halsin #THEN I couldn't throw him or let him down #then halsin sat for some reason #and now he won't get back up and is just slidin' across the brothel #i am in fucking TEARS #not described #overflowing trashcan

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Soul Meets Body

After the final battle with the Netherbrain, you and Halsin have found solace in what was once the Shadowlands. Domesticity and nature interweave with your every day life now that you are parents, but for the past few months, something has been missing. Halsin shows you how much he's missed your body.

Pairings: Halsin (dad!) x fem reader (plus sized after giving birth)

Warnings: SMUT, p in v sex, oral (female receiving), breeding kink, body image issues, swearing, angst, hurt/comfort. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 5.2k

Requested: yes

A/N: As a plus sized fan fic writer, I hardly see plus sized stuff, especially for Halsin so I decided to write something! This fic deals HEAVILY with body image issues of a plus sized reader after giving birth, so please read with caution if that is a trigger for you! ALSO: based on notes and patch updates from Larian, the Shadowlands were renamed the Reclaimed Lands, and in original notes for Halsin, his last name was Silverborough! So that's why those details are included. Also also dad Halsin is my fave ok bye.

The sun hung high in the sky midday, casting beautiful shadows through the leaves of the trees. The nearby laughter of children cascaded throughout the village, leaving a permanent smile on your face wherever you went. Your baby Lora, wrapped snug in a sling on your chest, cooed as you weeded the perimeter of the village, tossing the uprooted plants in a basket for Halsin to use later on.

Little feet scampered past you, calling your name in greeting as you knelt in the soft earth. Every time a little voice graced your ears, you perked up - what a life you were now leading, filled with such hope and joy. You felt lucky from the moment you woke up, to the moment you went to bed, for three reasons: the beautiful children that graced the Reclaimed Lands, which was once the Shadowlands, your beautiful daughter Lora, and of course, Halsin.

Your life had taken on new meaning once the final battle against the Netherbrain was won. Throughout your journey, you thought that the one thing you wanted more than anything was to return to your old life - to go home to the familiarity of Baldur's Gate. But when you had met Halsin - and subsequently fell in love with him - everything had changed, and you found yourself back in the Reclaimed Lands with the Alderman himself, becoming the unofficial parents of more children you had ever expected to have.

Of course, some adults came to the Reclaimed Lands to start anew as well - people pushed out by the curse returning home, or some wanting a fresh start. The little village you now claimed as your own was growing by the week, and nothing filled your heart more than knowing the love you and Halsin had put into cultivating the safe space.

A mere two months after you had gone home to the Reclaimed Lands, you discovered you were with child, baring the tiny bulge of Halsin's baby. It was no surprise to either of you - the elf who wanted to do things "as nature intended" acted on those natural instincts as often as they found him, and the idea of starting a family together was something both you and him couldn't get out of your head.

Once you had become pregnant, Halsin was unsurprisingly the perfect partner. Caring and attentive, you never needed nor wanted for anything. As if he could read your mind, before you could even ask, Halsin would appear with whatever you seemed to crave. Whether it be the particular berries near the river you seemed to want at night, a massage under his giant hands, or even a shoulder to cry on whenever your ankles swelled or back ached, Halsin was there to provide for you.

Your lovemaking never ceased while pregnant, either - in fact, your sex life with Halsin seemed to do nothing but increase. Often times, you caught Halsin staring at you while you absentmindedly cleaned up after dinner, or played with the children during the afternoon - his eyes falling to your growing belly. At night, while you sat on top of him, legs wrapped around his hips as he thrusted into you, he sucked and nibbled on your swollen breasts, his hands gently caressing your belly and large behind.

"How beautiful you are," He would breathe into your ear, your bodies slick with sweat, "Creating this beautiful life inside of you. You are ethereal...I am in awe. I am not worthy of your beauty." He'd cup your cheek and suck on your bottom lip as you quietly cried his name, tears overflowing from your eyes from both pleasure and love.

When Halsin was feeling more territorial, taking you from behind, but still being more gentle than usual, he would lay his chest flat on your back so he could be as deep as his cock would allow. "Knowing that everyone can look at you and see that I did this," He would grunt, his thrusts strong and pleading, "Knowing I filled you with my seed. That I love you so often and so well that the future is growing inside of you. I need it. I crave it," His would say through gritted teeth, "Everyone knows you're mine. And I am yours. Forever."

Once Loradove was born, your sexual appetite had basically ceased. Nights that were once full of screaming and thrusting and panting were now full of changing diapers, aiding cries, and soft lullabies. Halsin, of course, was the most doting father - taking Lora without asking so you could rest, playing with her so you could do some chores, or even doing the chores himself. He was the perfect father - you knew his urges to have you were increasing tenfold as every month passed that you didn't make love. But you also knew he would never complain...thinking only of his sexual urges made him feel selfish, you knew, and he would never want to act selfishly towards you.

It had been five months since Halsin last touched you in that way. Truth be told, it wasn't just that you were too busy with the village and children and your own daughter to have sex. You also couldn't bare to look in the mirror at your newfound "mother" body. A body that, once, when fighting goblins and monsters alongside Halsin and saving Faerun, was taut with muscles and curves. Now, your belly was soft and expanded, the defined muscles you once had nowhere to be found. Stretch marks decorated you stomach and thighs, and you needed a completely new wardrobe. You dreamed of being the type of mother you had known throughout your years - weeks after giving birth somehow going back to what they once were - small and desirable.

You only felt ugly. Looking at Halsin's body, rock solid and sexy, there was absolutely no way - in your mind - he could have found your softness alluring, especially when he had met the smaller, more attractive version of you. The idea of being fully naked in front of him used to send shivers down your spin and make your heart race, but now, it was enough to make you cry.

A child's playful laugh snapped you out of your day dream, your hand limply holding on to a bundle of mugwort that you had pulled a few minutes prior. Shaking your head, you placed it in the basket near your feet, watching Halsin appear into the village around the bend. A few children had run over to him, immediately hanging on his large limbs like he was a tree branch. He smiled and lifted them in the air, sending them flying before he caught them, gently kissing their temples and placing them on the ground.

As his usual way, he scanned the village, his eyes softening when they found you. You stopped weeding and stood, your smile matching his. A few moments later he was by your side, the children trailing behind him. He bent his head to give you a soft kiss - one that still gave you butterflies.

"My heart," He spoke gently, his hand immediately finding your waist. You winced inwardly as he gripped the soft rolls of your side. He slowly pushed back the cloth wrapping that hid Lora's face, and when her eyes met his, she instantly cooed. The smile Halsin reserved for her appeared on his face, and he gently pulled her from the cloth, holding her close. "My little one. How beautiful you are! Were you helping your mother today?" He eyed you, his eyes glittering. You chuckled.

"Quite so. If she wasn't swaddled, I'm sure she'd be reaching for the belladonna to try and have an afternoon snack," You sighed, smiling and wiping your brow, "She's lucky she's so cute."

"Cute?" Halsin asked, his eyebrows raising, "She's magnificent. Breathtaking. She is perfect...cute is nowhere near the word to describe Loradove Silverbough." Suddenly, Lora screeched, causing Halsin to furrow his brows immediately.

Laughing, you gently placed your hand on his bicep, "I think she also is tired."

He chuckled, pressing a small kiss on her cheek, "I will put her down for her nap. Go, do whatever your heart desires, my love. I will see to it that you have the afternoon for yourself. Daddy's got it from here." He winked, causing you to blush.

How the word "daddy" had changed in your lexicon in 9 months.

A few minutes later, you found yourself at the nearby creek on the outskirts of the village, your sweater off and laid beside you in the afternoon heat. Your feet dangled in the cool water, the laughter of the children still around you as you dozed in and out of a nap in the sunlight. Moments like this one were not rare - with Halsin, it truly was a partnership, splitting responsibilities 50/50.

When you opened your eyes again, the sun was setting, a sure sign of heading home. It was almost dinner time, you knew, which meant that you had spent at least a few hours dozing off by the creek. Your feet, wrinkled from being submerged for so long, felt chilly as you took them out of the water. Holding your shoes in your hands, you made the short walk home, passing by the children being herded inside by the adults.

As you opened the front door to your cottage, a whiff of food hit your nostrils, sending your stomach growling - some sort of roast was being prepared, with the sounds of banging pots and giggling coming from the kitchen.

"My heart!" Halsin cried, "Is that you?"

"Yes, I'm home, Halsin." You shouted back, dropping your shoes by the door.

"Lora! Mama's home!" You heard Halsin proclaim, to which Lora responded with a delightful squeal. You smiled, wiping the immediate happy tears from your eyes.

Lucky, lucky, lucky.

As you rounded your way to the kitchen, you found Halsin plating up dinner, Lora in her little feeding chair, bits of mushed food all over her face. She immediately reached for you when she saw you, so you scooped her up, grabbing a towel from a nearby table and wiping her face gently.

"My precious angel, you eat like such a little whirlwind." You murmured, kissing her eyelashes. She cooed and grabbed at your hair as felt Halsin's hand on your shoulder. Turning towards him, he smiled and leaned down to kiss your cheek, then slowly moved to your earlobe.

"My love," He breathed, his voice low. A shiver went down your spine as you leaned into his body. Your eyelids fluttered shut, the familiar feeling of comfort warming your body. He sighed contently and ushered you towards the chair nearest you, "Sit, my heart. Dinner is ready."

You sat, opening your eyes again and smiling. He placed the plate in front of you, and was about to take Lora from your hands but you shook your head, holding her closer.

"I missed her."

Halsin chuckled and sat across from you, "Of course. If she gets too rowdy while you try to eat, I'll put her back in her chair." He made a face at Lora, who made the same one back - their version of a secret handshake.

Idly chatting about your days, you ate dinner slowly, savoring the moments with the two of them. Soon Lora was starting to fuss, alerting the two of you to her nearing bedtime.

You bathed and dressed her, putting her down in her crib while Halsin washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. Walking into your bedroom, he was discarding his clothes for the night, slipping into the bed the two of you shared. As you walked in, he smiled.

“Did she go down easy?” He asked. You nodded.

“For the most part. Some tears when she realized that it was bedtime, but she was so exhausted that she went down almost as soon as her back hit the bed.” You took a sleep dress from your closet, putting it over your day clothes. Underneath the dress, you slipped the straps of your shirt off, and then your pants; the way you had gotten changed every night since Lora was young. Halsin said nothing of the intricate dressing, but you knew he watched you every night, probably wondering why his love wouldn’t stand naked in front of him. You turned and he smiled softly, patting the bed next to him.

As you laid next to him he tucked the blankets to your collarbone, kissing your forehead. “Early night? I have quite the day ahead of me tomorrow.” You yawned and nodded, nuzzling into him.

“Yes. I, myself am also exhausted.”

Halsin blew out the lamp and wrapped one of his strong arms around you, falling asleep almost instantly. You closed your eyes as well, but sleep came harder for you - the nap you took earlier in the day apparently robbing you of sleep this evening.

After an hour of tossing and turning, Halsin’s voice spoke in the dark room. “My love…are you alright? Your stirring woke me.”

You huffed as you moved on your side, throwing your arms at your side in the blankets, “I’m sorry, Halsin. I’m having a hard time falling asleep.”

Halsin was silent for a moment, but you felt him move closer to you, as he had drifted a bit during sleep, an arm wrapping around your waist. He started to pepper kisses on your neck, his breath hot in your ear. Eventually, his hand lightly palmed at your breast, your nipple gently pinched in between his fingers.

“Well…if you can’t sleep…maybe we can make use to the extra time given to us.” He whispered in your ear, rolling your nipple in his hand. Your heart fluttered, but you felt your stomach drop. Gently pushing him away, you turned to him.

“Halsin…” You started, unsure of what to say. This wasn’t the first time Halsin had tried to have sex with you since Lora was born, but every time he had tried previously, your excuses of being tired seemed more plausible. Now that it was five months, you weren’t quite sure what to say.

The hand that palmed your breast found its way to your cheek. “Please, my heart. Talk to me. I don’t want to pry, especially after you have given me the gift of our beautiful daughter…but why won’t you let me make love to you?”

In the darkness, you felt like you could cry. How could you explain to this man - this sweet, caring man - how you felt so uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping together? How you were afraid to show him what your body had become…how you were afraid that, if he saw you, he wouldn’t think of you the same?

It wasn't as if you didn't want to have sex with him - your heart stirred often when you saw him. There were so many nights where you just wanted to reach out to him - to bury his head in between your legs, or take his member in your mouth. Often you were so pent up with sexual frustration that when Halsin left the cottage, and Lora was down for a nap, you had to pleasure yourself in order to find some sort of release.

As his thumb stroked your cheek with such care, you knew it wasn’t fair to him to leave him in the dark like that. To leave him wondering if he had done something wrong, no matter how embarrassing your reasonings seemed.

You swallowed your nerves, placing your hand on his. “My body…” You started, your voice low. You could already feel the tremble in your voice as you held back tears, uncomfortable with your admission of these feelings, “My body is not the same as it was when we first met. When we…first fell in love.”

“Of course it isn’t,” He spoke plainly, “You have given birth, given Lora the gift of life. It is as nature has intended it - change is inevitable, and your body is meant to change when you grow full as one does when pregnant, my love.”

“No, that’s - that’s not what I meant,” You sighed, trying again. “What I mean is…my body is not…as nice as it was when we met. As…beautiful. As…sexy. I’m afraid you’ll look at it and be…disappointed. Dissatisfied.” Though you couldn’t really see him, you cast your eyes down to your sleep shirt, unable to look in the direction of his eyes.

A large span of silence passed. Slowly, he lowered the hand cradling your cheek. Heat rose in your body, flushing your cheeks.

"How...could you say something like that?" Halsin eventually asked, "Your body is beautiful, no matter what it looks like. You think a little softness will deter my yearning for you?"

"It's not just 'softness', Halsin," You said, the tears spilling from your cheeks, "It's...rolls. It's stretchmarks. Dimples and expanded skin where there was none before."

Suddenly, the oil lamp on the bedside table was lit. Halsin stared down on you, his brows furrowed in sadness. He took your face in his hands, kissing away the tears that had spilled.

"Oh, my love," He sighed in between kisses, "If only you could peek inside my heart...inside my brain. So you knew that my words match how I really feel, that I am not exaggerating," Pulling away, he smiled softly and looked into your eyes, "Your body. Is beautiful. It is a beautiful work of nature - of art. Your size does not dictate how badly I want to be inside of you. Your soul does. I love your body in every way it comes...would you stop stirring for me if I had added rolls and marks? If I had dimples on my thighs, or added skin on my belly?"

You smiled at his tenderness, which you always somehow knew he would respond with. "Of course not."

"So please know that when I mean my body stirs for you, I mean it. I would never want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable, but know that I have fantasized about ravaging you ever since the cleric gave us permission to make love after Loradove's birth. If you'll have me...please let me show how much I yearn for you."

You bit your lip, looking at him. He was completely nude - as he slept every night - and was on top of you. The very sight of him was causing an ache in your core, and you pressed your thighs together. Slowly, you leaned your head forward, pressing your lips to his.

At first, it was gentle, but as you felt his body press into yours, you very quickly found yourself get carried away, your tongue pressing into his mouth. Very gladly he opened his mouth, his tongue dancing with yours. He immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, and as you felt his erection press into you, you moaned. Nervously, you reached down to the hem of your sleep dress, but desperate to feel Halsin's skin on yours (and to get it over with), you grabbed the dress and pulled it over your head, discarding it on the floor.

There.

It was over with.

The one thing you had been so anxious over - finally being naked with Halsin again - had finally happened. You had discarded your clothes in front of him, being fully naked with him for the first time since you had given birth. Holding your breath - wracked with nerves - you watched his eyes take your body in. He didn't speak for several moments as his eyes moved from your head, all the way to your feet multiple times. He moved one of his hands from behind your back, to slowly tracing lines down your body, sending shivers up your spine. Dipping his head to your body, he started to slowly kiss you, gently planting kisses on your stomach, on your thighs, paying extra attention to the stretchmarks that covered your lower half.

Finally, he looked into your eyes, and you realized they were glassy with tears. He shook his head slowly and he enveloped your lips in a kiss that was so passionate, it knocked the wind out of you. When he pulled away, he cupped your cheeks once more.

"For you to think that you are anything other than beautiful is a thought I never want you to have again," He spoke, his voice low, "I covet every mark, every dimple, every soft roll on your body. Regardless if you gave life or not...your body is a beautiful work of nature, and if I need to make love to you every night in order for you to see it, I will gladly sacrifice." He smiled lightly, kissing you again. Shivers ran up your spine as he lowered his fingers to tease your clit, his fingers weaving in between your folds. Once he felt how wet you were, he moaned into the kiss, "Silvanus help me, you're going to make me finish before I even start."

His touch sent shockwaves through your system - five months of your pent up sexual desires for Halsin were starting to unravel, causing you to careen to your orgasm faster than you ever have in your life. As Halsin rubbed circles on your aching clit, you whimpered, your arms finding their way around his neck. He held you close as he brought you to him, leaning you forward so you were mere inches from his face.

"My gorgeous, gorgeous, girl," He whispered, kissing your temple. The combination of his increasingly deep movements on your clit, and the tender whispered nothings in your ear was leaving you overstimulated.

"Halsin...I'm already close." You whined, gently biting down on his shoulder. He chuckled and growled at the bite, taking his fingers off of your clit and inserting two of them inside your cunt.

"Already? My heart...I'm afraid I will be sending you over the edge many times tonight if that's how long you are going to last." As he pumped into your pussy, you threw your head back, pressing your back into the bed. Quickly, he slid down your body, gently kissing you along the way. He never stopped pumping his fingers, but as soon as his head reached your core, he pressed your legs open with his nose to suck on your clit, taking it in his mouth in its entirety. He moaned loudly, his tongue lapping over your entire pussy, the wet sounds emanating from the two you absolutely sinful.

Arching your back, your vision started to fuzz as you squeezed your eyes shut. As you looked down at Halsin, he seemed absolutely enthralled by you, his face reminiscent of the eating a delicious meal. His fingers curled upwards as he continued to switch between sucking on your clit, to lapping at your folds with his large, flat tongue.

"Gods, I'm going to come!" You whined, gripping his hair as he sucked. He didn't deviate from his movements, completely focused on making you feel his ecstasy. As you bucked your hips into his face, your orgasm crashed around you, Halsin inserting one more finger to pump into you to send you over the edge.

You screamed his name, so loudly you felt like you were going to blackout. Halsin continued on for several moments before he pulled away slowly, taking in the sight of you writhing underneath him. His chest was heaving as he gripped your thighs, his eyes dancing as he took you in. When you finally calmed down enough, you opened your eyes, looking into his.

Immediately, you burst into tears.

"I was so scared to do that." You confessed, your tears spilling over. You laughed, embarrassed, as Halsin leaned forward to kiss you.

"Never," He said, his tongue sliding on your lower lip, "Never be scared with me. Never again."

Resting your hands on his solid chest, you felt your desire focus, watching Halsin stroke his cock above you. You moaned at the sight of him - large, and beautiful, and fucking perfect.

You would never go this long without him again.

"Halsin, if I don't have you inside of me soon, I think I'm going to go crazy." You said, reaching down to help him with his strokes. His mouth fell open and he lolled his head back, murmuring your name. He took your hand from his erect penis to his mouth, kissing it gently before he lined himself up with you.

"Anything you desire, my heart." He said, before taking your hands and pinning them above your head. He held your wrists with one hand as he slowly slid inside of you, never breaking eye contact. The further he slid in, the more you two moaned, brows furrowed. Once he bottomed out, he growled. "Hells - I do not think I'll be lasting too long, either."

You laughed and he chuckled, winking at you before he began to thrust. Slow and deliberate, he grunted with his movements, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

You couldn't help but moan - there was no trying to stay quiet anymore. The past few months of not having Halsin had made you so pent up, that any touch from him seemed to cause your core to stir.

Picking up his pace, the headboard creaked. Halsin palmed at one of your tits, dipping his head to suck on your nipple. You arched your back so he could take you deeper in his mouth, and soon, he started to suck on the skin around your nipple. Heat rushed to your head as waves of pleasure continued to spread throughout your body.

As the two of you fucked, you were sloppy, messy. Noise and juices and movements shared between the two of you with no regard, with no holding back. Both of you were desperate for each other's touch, your whole body felt like it was on fire.

Eventually, as Halsin thrusted into you, he spread your legs with his other hand, abandoning your wrists above your head. After he spread your legs, he pressed one of his large fingers to your clit, circling it slowly.

"You, are so beautiful," He spoke, every word accentuated with a thrust, "The most beautiful creature nature has ever created. The most beautiful creature I have ever seen."

"Gods, Halsin - you make me feel so good. You fuck me so good." Your whimpers were bordering on incoherent as he fucked you, but it didn't matter. You were safe - you were fucking the love of your life, and Hells did it feel good.

"That's it," He spoke, moving your legs so you were on your side. He stopped thrusting for a moment to adjust you, closing your legs on his cock so he could thrust deeper, "That's it, my beautiful goddess," He be began to thrust again, and palmed at your tits, "I love this body. You are so beautiful. I love you."

"I love you too," You moaned, your back arching, gripping the sheets underneath you, "Daddy, I love you."

Halsin's eyes were set ablaze at your words. Your use of Daddy before Lora was around during sex, but you had a feeling that it took on a whole new meaning while you fucked him. He smiled, wiping the sweat from his brow. You could tell by his thrusts that he was nearing his edge, which was soon for Halsin.

It seemed the five months had the same affect on him, too.

"Daddy's fucking you good?" He groaned, grabbing a fistful of your ass. He squeezed hard before winding his hand back, giving you a tight slap on one of your cheeks, "You like it when Daddy fucks you like this?"

"Yes!" You screamed, grabbing hold of his forearm, "Gods, you make me feel so good!"

His grip on your ass tightened as he started to switch between his thrusts - slow and measured, and rough, pounding into you so hard his cock coming in contact with your cunt made a loud SMACK noise with every movement. Your walls clenched around him as he roughly gripped your hips, his hair becoming wet with sweat. Every time you clenched around his cock he growled, a noise that reminded you of an animal - feral, full of wanting.

"You're going to make me come," He said, his chest heaving. The sound of his cock and balls slapping against your wet core filled the room at an increased pace, and he didn't stop. "I'm going to fill you, my heart."

"Fill me," You commanded, looking into his eyes. Halsin groaned and leaned forward, his forehead touching yours. With three more thrusts, he growled and released, filling you with his orgasm. A silent scream came from his lips, followed by him murmuring your name over and over again. He bucked his hips a few more times to drain himself in you before he slowly slid out, immediately cradling you in his arms.

Both of you were panting, sweating, but you didn't care. You were holding on to each other for dear life, thankful for how the night turned out.

Halsin kissed every inch of you from your chest up, cupping your face with the utmost care. Pulling away, he looked at you.

"You put the stars in the sky, my heart," He spoke, gently kissing you. "The moon...the sun...they pale in comparison to your beauty," Gently running his hands over your body, he titled his head, "How do you feel?"

Still catching your breath, you smiled at him, "Incredible. Beautiful." You answered, honestly.

Halsin's face lit up and he pressed a kiss to you again. His tongue found its way into your mouth, and soon, his body was pressing against yours again, his pent up desire found his movements.

"If you give me just a bit of time, I would love to make you feel beautiful again." He spoke, sending shivers up your spine. Brushing a piece of hair out of your face, you were about to reply.

Suddenly, Lora cried from her room. Both of you stopped in your tracks, and when you realized she wasn't going to stop, you bot started to laugh. You went to get up from bed, but Halsin gently pushed you down, springing up himself.

"Rest, my love. I have her," He started to walk out of the room, but turned back quickly, "When I come back into this room, you better not have put your clothes back on."

You giggled and titled your head, feeling seductive for the first time in Gods knows how long, "Mr. Halsin, if you don't watch yourself, you're going to have put yet another baby in me."

Halsin's eyes darkened, and you knew you hit his desires on the head. His cock twitched and he coughed, trying to control himself. "Who says that's not the plan?" He asked, before slipping into Lora's room.

You laid back down on the bed, your breathing returning to normal. From the other room, you heard Halsin speaking softly to your daughter, singing her a lullaby to get her to go back to sleep. Pulling the covers over your body, you relished in the feeling of the blankets on your naked skin. Sighing happily, you moved your legs around in the bed, the sensation spreading warmth throughout your body.

How lucky you were.

---

If you liked this one, don't forget to leave a comment - it’s so so appreciated ❤️ Thank you all for reading!

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #halsin x reader #bg3 halsin #halsin #halsin headcanons #halsin au #halsin smut #halsin x you #halsin x tav #halsin fluff #dad halsin #halsin fan fic #halsin fan fiction #halsin fanfic

[dancingbirdie]

Would you plz do a fic with Astarion when tav and the party looted a bunch of alcohol and take it back and drink it and celebrate at camp but tav gets a little drunk and astarion starts realising his feelings for them? 😳

I’d love astarion to take care of me after a few drinks 😂

Bless you anon, for gifting me this fic idea. It practically wrote itself and saved me from being bored all day at work. I hope you enjoy it!

A Night of Drinks and Realizations

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3,120

Warnings/Tags: Astarion x GN!Tav, minor act 1 spoilers, drinking, drunkenness, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, FLUFF! Non-sexual HEARTWARMING FLUFF!

Song Credit: The Galway Girl by Steve Earle (I do not own rights to the music, lyrics modified slightly to fit the fic)

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Chultan Fireswill tasted exactly as its name suggested - like the last charcoaled bits remaining in a dying campfire. But, Tav had to admit, it got the job done. It was as strong as horse piss on a hot day. They were absolutely soused from just half a bottle. Although, to be fair, Tav hadn’t been a heavy drinker in their past life, before all this illithid tadpole business had come about. Now? Well, they supposed they had much more reason to imbibe. 

Tav sat around the campfire with most of the others, enjoying spoils from the goblin camp the party had handily defeated - mostly due to the help that Halsin and Lump the Enlightened’s group had provided. They had yet to make it back to the Emerald Grove as Halsin had requested. Utterly spent from the fighting and fleeing, Tav and the rest of the party had opted instead to rest for the night in the blighted village on the outskirts of the goblin camp. At least there were semi-usable beds in some of the abandoned buildings. 

Shortly after setting up camp, Gale had retired early, eager to continue reading some of the dusty tomes he’d been collecting throughout their journey. Astarion had slunk off in search of something to satiate his thirst, leaving the rest of the group in various states of relaxation around the fire. It was a quiet, peaceful evening. Everyone seemed to be deep in their own thoughts, ruminating.

That was until Tav hiccupped loudly, breaking the thoughtful silence that had overtaken the party. Karlach guffawed at the sound, smacking her hands on her thighs.

“Tav’s absolutely PISSED, look at them!” she managed between cackles. The other party members turned to observe them, curious. They had all been running about, fighting, nonstop for the past few days. No one in the party had ever been well and truly drunk in front of the others. There just hadn’t been the time, or the relative safety, to be inebriated.

Tav blinked blearily at Karlach across the bonfire, trying to focus. “‘M not,” they garbled. “‘M perffc-ly fine.”

“Chk. Your tolerance for this weak slop is an embarrassment,” Lae’zel spat from her seat next to Tav. “Give me that,” she said as she grabbed the bottle from their hand, upturning it and consuming the rest of the foul liquid in one go. 

Tav smiled amiably and patted her on the knee. “You’re *hiccup* lovely. I forgive you *hiccup* for takin’ my drink.”

Lae’zel stared at them, eyes widened to the size of saucers. Wyll, Shadowheart, and Karlach were nearly bursting at the seams to keep from laughing openly. 

“I do not require your forgiveness, ska’keth,” she snapped. 

Tav just giggle-hiccupped and smiled again. Looking to the rest of the party, they put a hand to their mouth and stage-whispered, “she’s a little grumpy, that one.”

At this, they all laughed uproariously. Lae’zel rolled her eyes, reaching for another bottle of alcohol piled near the rest of the camp supplies.

“YOU-GUYS,” Tav suddenly shouted in a slur, tottering over to snatch up a new bottle of Chultan Fireswill. “We should have a party. Like, right now, have a party.” 

“FUCK YES!” Karlach cheered, chucking an empty mead bottle onto the ground with a resounding crash. “I’m all in, baby,” she said, reaching for an unopened bottle of Ithbank.

“Here, here,” Shadowheart echoed, raising her own bottle. “We could do with a bit of levity and foolishness, I think. Does anyone play an instrument? Some music would be lovely.”

“It’s been a few years but I believe I can still pluck a few tunes on the lyre. Let me give it a go,” Wyll replied, rummaging through his pack supplies to retrieve the instrument. 

Moments later, he began plucking a jovial tune that had everyone besides Lae’zel tapping their feet and nodding to the music. After it finished, he continued with a dancing jig Tav was familiar with from the taverns in Waterdeep, although most of the footwork eluded them in their drunken state. 

“Where’s Gale and Astarion?” Tav shouted in a sing-song voice, twirling around in a laughable attempt at dancing. “Wake their asses up and tell them we’re having a party!” 

“No need for ass-waking, at least for me,” Gale called, joining the party from the direction of one of the abandoned houses. “No one can get an ounce of sleep with you lot frolicking around the fire.” 

“GALE!” Tav shrieked as they dance-skipped over to him, tripping slightly and smashing into his chest. “You made it!”

Chivalrous as ever, the wizard kindly grabbed Tav’s arms to keep them upright and restore some semblance of balance to their swaying form. “Quite literally impossible to miss it, Tav. Your voice carries extraordinarily well,” he replied, chuckling.

Tav gave him a rueful smile. “I drank, jus’ a lil’,” they explained. 

At this, his face broke into a wide grin. “I can certainly see that. Looks like I’ve got a lot of catching up to do if I'm to match the rest of you!” 

He guided Tav over to where Shadowheart was sitting, delicately perched on an old traveler’s trunk near the fire. “Perhaps stay here while I go peruse our stockpile.” 

Tav plopped down unceremoniously next to Shadowheart, who quirked a smile. “Enjoying ourselves are we?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” Tav sighed out. “Although it would be even better if Astarion joined us. Where IS he?” they asked, swiveling their head around the village square, hoping to spot his telltale white blonde locks. 

“I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually. Maybe he caught himself a big bear and is drinking it dry,” Shadowheart said teasingly.

Tav nodded seriously, “He deserves the biggest bear, ever,” they said, absolutely failing to notice the joke. 

Shadowheart scoffed. “Lovesick, little pup?” 

Tav giggled, abruptly hiccupped, and then giggled again at that. 

“He’s just beautiful,” they finally replied in a dreamy sort of voice. 

And then, “Inside and out,” they added, more softly.

Shadowheart threw her head back with a laugh. “Oh gods! You really are lovesick.”

Tav hummed happily. “I think I am, but - OH MY GODS!”

“What?” Shadowheart shouted, startled and peering about to assess the apparently impending danger. 

“I LOVE THIS SONG!” Tav shrieked, jumping to their feet and swaying about once more as Wyll began playing another lively tune. 

Confession utterly forgotten, they were lost to the strumming of the lyre, spinning like a top that might never stop. 

************************************************************************

Astarion had not planned to eavesdrop on the conversation between Tav and Shadowheart as he made his way back toward the camp. Truly, he hadn’t. But, at the mention of his name from Tav, he couldn’t help but wonder what the conversation was about. 

Stepping quietly around the corner of the decrepit tavern, he paused to listen. His heightened senses easily picked up on their voices as clear as if he would be standing next to them. 

Tav had… feelings for him? Astarion didn’t know what to do with this information. Why were they admitting this so openly? And to a person they barely knew? Was this a ploy? Was Tav banking on him hearing this supposed confession and trying to lull him into some false sense of security? The paranoid part of his mind was absolutely convinced of it.

But no, surely that couldn’t be it, another more reasonable part of his brain asserted. Lost in his thoughts, he observed Tav whirling about the campfire with their bottle of booze spilling out. They accidentally doused Lae’zel with a spurt of liquid, causing the Githyanki to swear loudly and move to the other side of the campfire. 

Astarion huffed a laugh. No, Tav was… many things… but devious was not one of them. He had observed them enough throughout their travels the last few days and had come to the conclusion that Tav was as harmless as a week-old pup to those they liked and trusted. They were genuine, transparent, and… open… to his utter confusion. And, okay yes, his considerable annoyance. 

But Astarion was truly hard-pressed to remain annoyed at Tav for long. They were just so gods-damned pure. As pure as the sun’s rays. Being annoyed with them was like being annoyed at the sun for existing. It couldn’t help what it was. Tav couldn’t help who they were. It would be a mistake, a waste of time, to despise them for their nature. 

He envied them for that. But above all else, if he were being totally honest with himself, he craved their attention just as much as he relished the actual sunbeams he’d been able to feel on his skin for the first time in over 200 years. 

But still, Astarion had no idea how to process this revelation, that the-pure-sun-incarnate-Tav had love for him. Love. Not merely lust, desire, or attraction. Now those he was familiar with.  Those had been a currency he’d transacted on Cazador’s behalf for so many years. But love? Love was an unknown concept to him. It had never been something he’d tried to cultivate in the minds of his victims. Astarion wasn’t even sure he understood what love actually was.  

A series of loud bangs startled him from his circling thoughts. He looked up and chuckled at the sight he beheld.

Tav had found several scrolls of minor illusion in Gale’s packs and had begun to set off fireworks. Bright green, pink, and yellow sparks were careening into the sky, exploding into images of flowers and pixies to the utter delight of Tav. The rest of the party were loitering about, laughing at Tav as they clapped their hands in joy. 

Seeing as this would perhaps be the best time to integrate himself into the party, Astarion strolled toward the campfire. Grabbing a bottle of some cheap swill they’d looted, he took a seat beside Shadowheart and nodded in a cheers sort of motion to the cleric. She raised her bottle in acknowledgement. 

“Come to watch the wonder that is Tav utterly debauched?” she quipped.

“I must say, I rather like them like this, all uninhibited and bawdy” he replied, his eyes following Tav as they danced and gyrated their way over to Wyll, who was plucking out another familiar tavern tune.  

“Wyll, do you know the song ‘The Amphail Girl’?” Tav asked too loudly, hiccupping.

“I do, but gods Tav, I don’t know that I’ve ever tried playing it,” Will admitted.

“Okay, okay,” Tav sighed in a mock-morose tone, stopping Wyll from playing by placing a hand on the lyre strings. “Then you must pass the lyre my friend and be ready to take some *hiccup* notes.”

Wyll, ever the good sport of the group, obliged Tav’s demand and relinquished the instrument. 

Astarion chuckled. “Oh, dear. They’re not about to actually put on a performance, are they?” he asked in a somewhat-rhetorical question toward Shadowheart.

She chuckled. “It appears so. Liquid courage really does wonders, it seems.”

They both watched as Tav began plucking at the strings of the lyre until they stitched together the right tune. After a few beats of strumming, they began to sing.

“I took a stroll down the old long walk

Of the day I-ay-I-ay

I met a little girl and we stopped to talk

Of a fine soft day I-ay

And I ask you friends, what's a fella to do?

Because her hair was black and her eyes were blue

And I knew right then I been takin' a whirl

Down the Salthill Prom with an Amphail girl”

The entire party watched, enraptured, as Tav sang the lyrics in a beautiful, high tenor voice. Their hands never missed a chord, performing as though they knew the song by heart. 

“Did you cast Guidance on them?” Astarion whispered to Shadowheart, as Tav strummed the bridge of the song. 

“No, I haven’t touched my magic since this afternoon,” she replied. “This is all Tav. Shocking, considering how inebriated they are.”

It seemed the rest of the party members were in equal disbelief that their drunken compatriot could perform so flawlessly. Tav continued the song, smiling as they sang, eyes closed and blissfully unaware of the stares they had garnered. 

“We were halfway there when the rain came down

On the day I-ay-I-ay

She asked me up to her flat downtown

On a fine soft day I-ay

And I ask you friends, what's a fella to do?

Because her hair was black and her eyes were blue

So I took her hand, and I gave her a twirl

Oh, and I lost my heart to an Amphail Girl”

And the longer Tav sang, the longer Astarion realized there were cracks now forming in his long-held aloof façade. There they were, singing with their heart and soul, radiating unobtrusive joy. Astarion was enamored by Tav’s utter lack of pretense. He couldn’t take his eyes off them, even if he had wanted to.

“When I woke up I was all alone

With a broken heart and a ticket home

And I ask you now, tell me what would you do?

If her hair was black and her eyes were blue

'Cause I've travelled around, I've been all over this world

Boys, I've never seen nothin' like an Amphail girl”

Tav concluded the song with a final series of strums. They opened their eyes slowly and looked around curiously at the party, as though they had forgotten where they had been before the song began. Astarion thought they had an almost ethereal look in their eyes. Everyone had grown quiet, the meaningful pause leading them toward more introspective thoughts.

Of course, that was before Tav doubled over and hurled the contents of their stomach on the ground. In a blink, that otherworldly moment was gone, and the party members groaned at the mess of ick now puddling in the center of their circle. 

Tav wobbled on their feet, very nearly careening to the ground. 

Strong arms caught them about the waist before they collapsed. 

“Now, now darling, the fun is truly over, it seems. Let’s get you to bed, shall we?” Astarion coaxed, leading Tav toward the tavern. 

“You alright taking care of them, then?” Karlach called after him and Tav. 

“Yes, yes, I can keep the pup from choking on their vomit,” Astarion promised.

“And make sure they drink plenty of water!” Shadowheart added.

“Astarion?” Tav mumbled, seeming to finally come to, blinking up at the pale elf’s face. 

“Yes, darling, I’ve got you,” he murmured, an arm wrapped solidly around Tav’s waist. 

“Oh good. Did you get a beat grig bear? Oops,” Tav chuckled, grinning. “I meant a great… big… bear. Shadowheart *hiccup* said you would.”

Astarion didn’t have a bloody clue as to what Tav was talking about, but he nodded along, charmed by their innocent look of excitement.

“We should drink to celebrate!” they said suddenly. 

Astarion well and truly laughed. “No, my dear, I think we’ve both done enough drinking for the night,” he responded. 

Tav sighed. “I suppose you could be right,” they grumbled.

The two fell into a companionable silence. Astarion carefully walked Tav up the steps of the tavern and guided them toward an old boarding room near the back. There was a bed there, mostly left untouched by grime and pests. In any case, it was a more favorable alternative to sleeping on the ground.

Gently, Astarion pushed Tav to sit down on the edge of the bed. Crouching to his knees, he began pulling their boots off their feet. Tav watched in a daze before lifting a hand to cup Astarion’s cheek. 

Concentrating on the laces of Tav’s boots, he hadn’t been expecting their touch. He jumped slightly in surprise. Casual touches were not something he was used to. 

At his response, Tav removed their hand from his skin but kept it floating there in the air, as if unsure what to do. 

“Sorry,” they murmured. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Astarion held their gaze, pondering them thoughtfully. After a moment, he took Tav’s hand and returned it to his cheek. 

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I’m beginning not to mind those touches from you.”

Tav gave him a sleepy smile. “Thank you, Astarion,” they whispered and began to slump over onto the bed. 

“No no, not yet you don’t,” Astarion said hastily, rising to his feet and walking over to fetch a carafe of water from his pack. 

“Here. Drink all of this,” he said, extending the bottle to Tav.

“I don’t want water,” they said, frowning. 

“Trust me, darling, you’ll thank me for it in the morning,” Astarion chuckled. 

Tav gave a sullen huff. “Fine, but only because you asked.”

They downed the carafe in a couple of drinks before collapsing back onto the bed. 

Satisfied that Tav wouldn’t perish from alcohol poisoning - at least not tonight - Astarion made to leave the room. A quiet voice gave him pause just as he was about to cross the threshold. 

“Could you stay with me, please?” Tav whispered, watching Astarion through half-closed eyes. 

Astarion balked inwardly. Staying in the same bed with Tav would mean something. To Tav. To him. Was he prepared for that? What would Tav expect from him then, in the days that followed? Was this a step toward some kind of commitment? Did he want that?

As the seconds ticked by, he watched Tav’s eyelids close completely. They may not have even been aware that they had uttered that request aloud. They certainly weren’t aware of the effect it had on Astarion. He could just as easily pretend not to have heard them and walk out the door, leaving things as they were between them now: a curious potential.

But watching Tav’s chest slowly rise and fall with peaceful breaths, Astarion felt that craving again. The desire to be in the warm sun. To be touched by the sun’s rays. 

Fears be damned, he thought. At least for tonight. He could have this moment, he reasoned. He could have this one night. 

And, climbing into bed next to Tav, a part of him thrilled at the way their body turned and curled into his. The complete and total trust they had in him, that he wouldn’t harm them. That he - Astarion - was a safe harbor in which they could rest. 

The realization was too much to take in. So foreign. His mind couldn’t make sense of it. 

But, as he lay there in the quiet, his hand gently brushing Tav’s locks back from their forehead, listening to their even breaths, Astarion knew one thing. Whatever this new feeling was that Tav was drawing out of him? He wanted more than just a few stolen moments of it.

#bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #baldur’s gate astarion #astarion #dancingbirdiewrites

[captain039]

PART 4 Big bear

Halsin x reader

Warnings: AOB, feelings, tav insert, Angst, abuse, truama, hurt/comfort,

I’m just gonna go cry ✌🏻

Previous part ->

When Halsin didn’t go to your tent you frowned lifting your head to see his face stern and in thought. You glanced to the group who frowned slightly watching you both retreat to his tent. Halsin sat you down on his bed roll gently.

“I’ll be back” he grunted and walked off. You blinked confused as the alpha walked to your tent, tore it down and packed it up before bringing it to his tent. He set it up again, gave you, your blanket and pillows you collected before finally being happy with what he did.

“Halsin?” You asked and he hummed looking to you like he was in some sort of daze.

“What’s wrong?” You asked and he blinked confused.

“Why would something be wrong?” He asked glancing to your tent like he just realised what he did.

“I’m sorry-“ he stuttered and you just shook your head too tired. You laid down your pillows and tugged your blanket over you as you laid down on his bed roll. You sighed the scent of him filling your nose.

“M’gonna sleep” you said already feeling yourself drifting off.

“Ok” Halsin muttered. Your breathing evened and he sensed you were asleep before cursing himself, what the hell did he just do? The others in the group definitely gave odd looks as he growled quietly and went to sit by the river. He wasn’t usually this emotional, he was the calm one of the group and now he was struggling to control his second nature. He’d always had it control, made sure he’d never scared or used it to those lower ranked than him, often people thought he was a beta due to his calmer nature, only to be surprised when they realise he was in fact an alpha.

“Are you alright?” Tav asked sitting by him.

“Yes, apologise I don’t-“ he sighed there was no use lying to them, they could see right through him.

“I’ve never seen you so riled up before, not even in battle” they chuckled lightly and he hummed smiling.

“Is it a special bond?” They asked hushed and he froze.

“I didn’t mean to pry, just the way you’ve been acting and acted-“ they pointed out and he glanced to them.

“Special bonds are not heard of anymore” he said.

“Doesn’t mean they’re not real” Tav shrugged.

“You’re very protective of everyone, but especially her” they smirked slightly and he felt heat in his cheeks.

“And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you craze out like the way you did at the healers” they added and he sighed, not his finest moment obviously.

“I admit I was over the top, I wasn’t thinking straight” he tried to defend his actions, but it was no use.

“It’s not a bad thing” Tav said and he looked to them.

“She’s been through a lot” he sighed looking back to the river.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with so much hatred for alphas that that hag” he scoffed lightly.

“She called me a lump of meat” he grumbled and Tav laughed quietly.

“Charming” they chuckled.

You awoke to soft laughter and jolted a bit before remembering where you were. You saw Tav and Halsin by the river bank, sitting next to each other talking. You felt your heart clench for some reason and glanced around his tent. This wasn’t your space. You stood on shaky legs, grabbing your pillow and blanket and slowly walking to where your tent originally was.

“You shouldn’t be walking around” Astarion said and you waved him off as you shuffled back to Halsin’s tent seeing the alpha there with confused eyes.

“What are you doing? You should be resting” he said and you shrugged.

“I’m fine” you muttered ignoring the way your leg muscles began to ache. You began to pull your tent down, each movement bringing more aching.

“You’re going to hurt yourself more, please” Halsin took the rod from you and you glared at him.

“I’m fine!” You snapped feeling sick to the stomach. You gagged a bit and quickly rushed off to a safe space to puke. You coughed and gagged before groaning, Halsin had held your hair back for you.

“I don’t need-“ you tried to push him away as your knees began to shake. You almost collapsed if it weren’t for him and cursed feeling your eyes fill with tears as you kept your head down.

“You’re not fine” he said softly and you watched a tear drop fall to the ground.

“I don’t need help” you said trying to stand on your own two feet.

“Why are you being like this, why can’t I help you?” He said, which made you flinch.

“Because you’re an alpha!” You yelled gaining everyone’s attention.

“You have no idea what it’s like” you sneered storming off the best you could.

You stayed in the barn instead, laid your bed roll on the hay bale and laid there. You had cried for some time, body shaking and stomach churning. If somebody approached you ignored them, maybe it was time to go your own way now.

Next part ->

Taglist:

@iwannabealocalcryptid

@thatcutewerewolf

@aeryntheofficial

@vinithechocolatevampire

#Halsin x reader #alpha Halsin #x reader #aob #angst #hurt/comfort

[commander-krios]

With Devotion And A Little Luck

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: f!Tav/Rolan Rating: Teen Summary: Rolan wasn't expecting a tiny bard with a penchant for wild magic to get under his skin in this way, but with a little luck, his devotion will be rewarded in kind. Words: 5002 Additional Tags: Tieflings, Romance, Love, Fluff, Pranks, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon, Bard Tav

Read on AO3

The gathering was separated from the bustle of Baldur’s Gate, sequestered away in Ramazith’s Tower as they were. The company wasn’t awful, he supposed, taking a drink of wine from his goblet. This party was much better than the one at the Grove, for many reasons, but the main of them because Rolan was now archmage of Baldur’s Gate, master of his own tower, and safely within the city walls with his siblings, a new life opening up before him.

And it was all because of the irritating bard playing at the center of the party, the soft melody of her lute at odds with the swirling dance she attempted. She’d taken to keeping her hair down lately, the burgundy streaks more noticeable as the waves of her raven hair tumbled over her shoulders. Juniper was beautiful, free of a tadpole, her only responsibility to herself and those she deemed worthy of her attention.

Rolan was grateful to be one of them.

With a satisfied sigh, he walked the perimeter of the room, eyes sweeping across the other guests: her former companions, most of the surviving tiefling refugees (the children as well), Cal and Lia, and some of their allies were gathered, drinking and laughing and enjoying the very fact that they were alive and their enemies were not.

“You’re smiling more than usual.” Lia said from where she lurked, a mug of ale in her hands and the usual mischief on her face. 

“Be careful, Rolan.” Cal added from where he sat on a chair near their sister, his expression parroting hers. “You might scare the children.”

“Very funny.” He snapped, but his voice held no anger. It couldn’t when he was grinning like a fool. “You cannot deny we’ve been lucky in our endeavors.”

“It isn’t luck. Not when Juniper is involved. Luck laughs at her every time she tries something.” Lia waved to where the bard was starting a new tune, joined by Alfira’s lute and Shadowheart’s singing voice. Wyll spun Astarion briefly before dipping him, a grin curling the Blade’s lips as he righted them to standing, applause breaking out amongst the group.

Rolan turned back to Lia, ready to jump to Juni’s defense if he needed to. “That’s not-”

Cal raised an eyebrow and he paused, waiting for his brother to speak. “She attracts accidents like fruit attracts flies, but then you know that.”

“Let’s be fair to Rolan. He probably likes it.”

He opened his mouth, a retort on the tip of his tongue when a touch of the weave passed over him. A soothing presence, to be sure, and he didn’t even have to turn to know who had joined their circle.

“Ah, it’s wonderful to see you three in such high spirits.” Gale said, the smile on his face brighter than the dancing lights that Halsin was casting over the gathering. “How is life in the Tower?”

“It’s wonderful.” Lia gushed before taking a quick glance at Rolan, grin only widening. “We never get a moment’s silence thanks to this one.”

Gale raised an eyebrow, curious, and Rolan already felt his cheeks heat. “She’s being facetious. Nothing as untoward as she’s implying happens. Besides-” He glared at his sister with a pointed look. “She doesn’t live at the Tower any longer. Not since joining the Flaming Fist.”

“And I’ve never been happier.”

Ignoring Lia’s jab, Rolan motioned for Gale to follow him, away from the prying ears of his siblings and the rest of the guests. The rumble of chatter drifted around them, a comforting lull to the evening. Stepping away from the crowds, Rolan faced Juniper’s closest friend, wondering how he might approach the subject without the awkwardness that he knew was going to follow.

Clenching his hands into fists at his side, he took a deep breath before hissing it out between his teeth. Anxiety clenched at his chest, a fear that he didn’t realize he had coiling in his gut. “Gale, I want to propose marriage.”

The older wizard cocked an eyebrow, a shocked laugh escaping his mouth. “Well, this is certainly unexpected, for sure. While I am flattered, Rolan, I must regretfully decline.”

Rolan opened his mouth to speak, before shutting it close quickly, confusion morphing into horror. “What? No, not you! Whatever made you think such a thing. I meant Juniper.”

Gale chuckled, giving him a knowing look as he swiped a bottle of some fancy liquor from the table next to them. “I didn’t know your face could get any rosier, archwizard.”

Rolan huffed, running a hand over his face, mortified. He’d walked right into that one. “I think you are spending too much time with Juniper.”

“On the contrary, I do enjoy our afternoon teas.” Gale sipped his drink, barely able to hide the grin he wore. When he was finished, he pointedly glanced around the room at the people as they moved around and conversed with others. A crowd that rivaled any of the parties they’d had since the war had ended. “So what was your plan? To do it now, here, around all of these people? Don’t you think you might do this in a… quieter environment?”

The very thought of making a public spectacle out of something so personal, so private, was almost enough to make him combust on the spot. “I… not at this very moment! I am looking for advice on how to proceed with a proposal. I… well, I’ve never done one.”

“And you believe I have?” Gale asked, the amusement on his face at least letting Rolan feel comfort knowing that he hadn’t offended him. “I think you might have the wrong idea about me.”

Rolan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, trying to regain control of the awful turn in their conversation. 

“Maybe you should consult Astarion, hmm? He might be better for planning elaborate things like this.” Gale’s eyes searched the people for the vampire. “I’m sure he’ll have some ideas. The bigger, the better.”

“No.” Rolan growled out, the idea that Astarion would help him instead of mocking him the entire time was beyond what he was willing to deal with. He cleared his throat awkwardly when Gale turned back, eyes widened in shock. With his voice under control, he repeated himself. “No. I would prefer it if Astarion was not involved.”

“Perhaps Shadowheart, then?”

That name brought up a different issue. Rolan winced, trying to hide it but knew Gale saw it when his gaze softened slightly. “I… doubt she’d want to help. It might be awkward for her.”

“How so?”

He didn’t know then? That was a surprise. Juniper wasn’t usually a secretive person. Rolan figured her fling with Shadowheart would’ve been obvious to those that spent time in camp with them, especially someone she was as close with as she was with Gale. When she’d told him about her feelings for Shadowheart, and Karlach, back when they were traveling together in the beginning… he’d had a mini breakdown over it.

“Shadowheart and Juniper… well, Juni mentioned the two of them were… close.”

Gale pondered his words momentarily before his eyes widened, realizing what Rolan was getting at. “Oh, I see what’s happened.” Gale poured a second glass of alcohol, handing it to Rolan without preamble. “You’re completely mistaken about the type of relationship they had.”

“But-”

“There was, at one point, a mutual attraction. They spent much of their time together in the beginning. Shadowheart, especially, felt a closeness to Juniper that she didn’t with the rest of our party.” Gale waited for him to take a sip of the drink, the alcohol burning his tongue before it set his throat on fire when he swallowed. Rolan hoped it helped him get through this conversation. “But- that all changed after the attack on the Grove.” Rolan met his gaze, finding it strange to see Gale watching him in interest. “Do you know why?”

“I’m certain you’ll tell me.”

“There was ample opportunity for her to choose a lover the night of the party. I remember it well. The way the attention was on her as she played her lute, chatted with the guests, drank more alcohol than her small form should’ve been able to handle. Shadowheart, Astarion, the Blade of Frontiers, our dear Karlach. I watched them all from where I sat by my tent, observing the festivities, watching them make fools of themselves because no matter how hard they tried, no matter how much flirting Halsin did or how much praise that Zevlor lavished on her, none of them had a chance.” Gale sighed, eyes far away as if he remembered that night as vividly as Rolan did. 

Things were making sense now, but he needed to hear it. He couldn’t find the words to respond, only stared at Gale as he returned his gaze to his face.

“Because she chose to spend the night in your presence.”

“I…” He didn’t deserve her affection at that time, not at all. Not with the way he’d treated her. “I was awful to her. Why did she-”

“You’ll never truly know unless you ask.”

He pondered Gale’s words a moment, weighing the truth of them. He was prepared to ask another question, probably one that would’ve embarrassed him no doubt, when something tugged on the sleeves of his robes.

“Master Rolan?” 

Glancing down, Rolan caught sight of Silfy… or was it Ide? Which one had the mass of curls piled atop their head? He honestly didn’t know all of their names, not like Juniper did, and he felt a flash of guilt. After everything they’d all been through, he really should’ve been making more of an effort to keep in touch with the other tieflings from Elturel. The children were especially vulnerable.

“Uh, yes? Did you need something?”

The child fidgeted, glancing at her feet and it took him a moment to recognize where he’d seen her. It was the same child he’d angrily (and drunkenly) yelled at during their stay at Last Light. More things for him to make up for, it seemed.

“Ide, right?”

She blinked at him owlishly, as if surprised he knew her name. Which, he supposed, was a shock since he too wasn’t sure if he knew it either. “Y-yes, sir.”

Rolan knelt so he could meet her gaze on her level, giving her the power when she’d had so little in her young life. He knew how awful it felt to not have control over what happened to you, to have to trust others for your safety. But she was safe, and despite how much of an ass he acted about it, he was proud to know that he helped her achieve that much. “Why don’t you tell me what you need and I’ll help you, alright?”

She eyed him warily, ochre eyes slanting suspiciously. “Why are you being so nice?”

Rolan flinched, but he supposed he deserved that. Stifling a sigh in his chest before it could escape, he glanced around the room, seeking the woman he knew would help him find the words that always failed him. Juniper stood across the room, leaving Alfira to continue the music while she, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, chatted with some of the other guests. She must’ve felt his gaze because she glanced in his direction, a smile on her lips.

His heart skipped a beat, maybe even two, at the grin that was only for him. A grin that he got to see every morning when the dawn broke across the sky, and every night when the stars were sparkling like a thousand dancing lights. Whatever it was that Juniper saw in him, even months into their relationship, he still completely didn’t understand, but he was never going to regret a single second they were together. 

Rolan returned his gaze to Ide, trying to tame his own smile, if only to keep from scaring the child. “Because someone reminded me that kindness was important. And we can’t choose our pasts, but we can decide our futures.”

Ide smiled at him, reaching out to tug on his sleeve again. “Juniper is smart.”

Rolan snorted in amusement, but the child spoke the truth. At least, when it came to matters that didn’t require magic. He would never trust her with that ever again. “I’ll ask again, what did you need?”

“Oh, I wanted to do something for you.” Ide kicked her feet with her hands clutched behind her back, and for a brief moment, he swore he noticed the same type of mischief that Lia got in her eyes before she teased him. “Juniper let me braid her hair for the party and…”

She trailed off, raising her eyebrows as if she expected him to finish her thoughts. With a sigh, he took another glance in Juni’s direction, noting that she did indeed have an elaborate braid in her hair. The little hat with bells attached was also a newer acquisition, probably from Facemaker’s though Rolan didn’t know when she’d gone to get it.

He turned his attention back to Ide, watching as she smiled at him with a grin that made warning bells go off in his head. She was up to something, but with no proof, he’d only make an ass of himself if he started making accusations.

“Let me guess. You want to braid my hair as well?”

The child shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes as she responded. “It was Miss Juniper’s idea.”

He knew that was bullshit. Or at the very least, not the entire truth. While he didn’t doubt that Juniper helped Ide in whatever schemes she and the other children had concocted, Rolan remembered when he too had been a child, not all that long ago. Causing trouble was a perk of being small and presumably innocent of the world. Though, as a tiefling child, it is certainly more difficult to get away with even the smallest infractions.

And that was the purpose of this, he supposed. These children were orphans and Juniper was extending them a kindness, a place to belong, even for a fraction of a moment in time. It was more than he and his siblings ever got.

Stifling a sigh, Rolan let Ide lead him to a chair out of the way of the crowd. He sat, suspicion growing as she pulled up a stool behind him, climbing up with little trouble. She balanced on her knees, wobbling briefly, and Rolan feared that she might topple over and smash her head against the ground. But she steadied herself, putting her hands on the back of his chair. 

When she met his gaze, she raised an eyebrow. “Ya need to face the other way for this to work, yeah?”

The sigh slipped out this time. He tried to get comfortable, but nothing was significantly less comfortable than having a child in control of anything.

Ide pulled the band from his hair, combing her fingers between the strands, admiring the length. Or, at least, that’s what he assumed she was doing. “Ya always so damned uptight?”

“What did you-” Rolan tried to turn, but Ide pulled on his hair roughly, stopping him with a sudden stab of pain along his scalp. “Damn it, that hurts!”

“Stop movin’ then.” She muttered, twisting a tight braid along his hairline. “Ya makin’ my work hard.”

Rolan rolled his eyes, but did as he was told, letting the menace that masqueraded as a child continue to braid what was left of his hair after she’d yanked half out. The things he did for Juniper, even when she wasn’t the one who’d asked in the first place. 

It wasn’t long before he and Ide drew a small crowd…of more children.

“I can braid better than that.” One of the girls said, crossing her arms and turning up her nose at them. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail with cute little braids framing her face. Braids that were pretty, he supposed. “You aren’t making them tight enough.”

A boy, Rolan was pretty sure it was the one that swindled people while his sister pickpocketed (Matthis? Matty?) stood next to the girl with braids, tapping a finger to his chin. “Arabella has a point.”

“There’s only one way to settle this.” The girl, Arabella, pulled up her own chair, climbing up on the other side of Rolan without even asking. What in the nine hells were these children up to?

Rolan shifted away from Arabella, only to get his hair tugged painfully by Ide again.

“Ouch!”

“Sit still!” She scolded him like he was the child here. Once he settled again, she must’ve turned her attention to the other girl. “You're on. Stakes?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Arabella wave another tiefling child over, Mirkon if the wild mass of curls was any indication, whispering something in his ear before he disappeared. “Tightest braids with flowers weaved in. Mattis will judge. Winner gets the last sweet roll in the kitchen.”

Last sweet roll? Wait- 

“When did you go into the kitchens-”

“No usin’ your fancy magic.” Ide snapped, untangling the braid she’d been working on before the interruption. 

Laughter on the opposite side of the room caught his attention. Lia and Cal were watching the situation with the joy of two younger siblings witnessing the oldest’s torture. He flushed in irritation.

When he opened his mouth to snap at them, or the children, he wasn’t picky, the words stopped in his throat. His mouth flapped like a fish’s, no sound, not a single word uttered from it. Glancing at the little girl to his left, he saw the flash of a smirk before she blinked at him, eyes wide in childlike innocence. 

Did she… use Silence on him?

That little-

“Handy magic.” Mattis said from where he stood, watching the entire interaction with a shit-eating grin. “Maybe we could make use of it for…” He trailed off at the glare Rolan aimed in his direction. “Ah, we’ll talk about it later. Where there are less ears.”

Rolan tried to speak, to tell the little menace what he wanted to do with his ears, but nothing came out. With a disgruntled noise that couldn’t be heard either, he crossed his arms over his chest like a child and waited for the girls to finish their work. It wasn’t long before Mirkon returned with a handful of flowers from one of the vases.

He suffered for about twenty minutes as his hair was pulled, flowers were woven into the plaits, the scent tickling his nose. His scalp was on fire when they finished, leaving him sitting there with a frown on his face and a head full of braids.

“There!” Arabella exclaimed happily, jumping off of the stool to the giggling of the rest of the children. “What do you think, Mattis?”

The young boy approached, a claw to his chin as he studied their handiwork. “Hmmm.”

Zurgan, he could only imagine how he looked with the frippery in his hair and the ridiculous amount of braids he felt pressed against his scalp. And he still couldn’t speak. Despite having once been a child himself, he couldn’t imagine doing half the things these ones did. Zevlor was too soft on them and Juniper only made it worse.

“I'm calling it for Ide.” Mattis said with a grin, as if he liked it when Arabella glared at him incredulously. “Sorry, Bells.”

“I’ll ask him instead.” Arabella huffed, muttering an incantation to lift the spell. The tingling in his throat dissipated and he was left with a roughness in his vocal cords that he was sure would annoy him for the rest of the evening. Then she handed him a small oval mirror, small enough to carry in someone’s bag on their travels. “What do you say? Which braids are better?”

He glanced down at his mirror image, seeing his prominent nose and smattering of dark freckles, the dark scleras and fiery irises, the points of his teeth showing beneath his top lip. His dark hair was plaited on both sides, but the right was significantly looser, the flowers drooping where they were tied in. He remembered the last time he said a harsh word to Ide and lost his nerve. How could he be a critic to a child whom he’d hurt in the past?

Rolan was prepared to risk the ire of the little wizard in the making when he noticed the other decoration they’d put on him. 

Mittens. On his horns, fingerless ones that bent at awkward angles from where they hung. When had they done that? 

“What did you-”

The children broke off in laughter, scattering throughout the Tower in a rush, each in a different direction so they wouldn’t be found together.

With a huff, he stood, taking the mirror with him before he stopped suddenly, realizing he’d been watched. Juniper crossed the distance between them, struggling not to smile, but failing immediately when he glanced down at her, his face scrunched in irritation. His scalp throbbed painfully, the braids too tight, the flowers irritating his nose and he had to stifle a sneeze.

“Having fun?” She asked sweetly, hands behind her back as if she was innocent of any wrongdoing. It only made him suspect her more.

“You set me up, didn’t you?” He asked, even if he already knew the truth. Her smirk was enough of an answer for him. “Those children were not gentle.”

“Poor Rolan.” Juniper reached up to run a hand over his new braids, inspecting them thoroughly. A delighted sound left her throat, something close to a laugh. “They did an excellent job.”

“I’m sure they did. Even if they were clearly plotting something else the entire time.” He pointed at the mittens hanging haphazardly from his horns and the sight made a giggle burst from her. “This is your fault.”

“You don’t trust me when I say I had nothing to do with it?”

Rolan slid his hands against her waist, locking his fingers together at the small of her back before pulling her closer. His mouth brushed across her cheek, a soft kiss before he responded. “I trust you to save my life, but I also trust you to keep that same life from being boring.”

“Oh, believe me. You’ll never be bored with me around.”

Rolan glanced down at her clothing, taking in the low cut neckline, the flare of the gown down to her feet, the slit on one side that showed off her calf whenever she turned just so. It suited her as much as the stupid hat on her head did. 

“You are stunning.”

Juniper’s mouth curled, and he was prepared for her teasing before she even spoke. “The bells really do it for you, huh?”

She finished her question with a jingle of said bells.

A choked laugh left him. Moving closer, Rolan brought her flush against his body. “The one attached to the bells is the reason behind my affection, if you must know.”

She laughed, breathless, her fingers brushing against the back of his neck before disappearing into his braided hair. “Be careful or we’ll be giving the guests a different type of show.”

“Let them see if they wish to look.” Rolan rested his forehead against hers, uncaring about the guests or her friends or even his siblings when she was watching him with that cheeky expression. “They should know how lucky I am.”

She flushed. He could see it against her collarbone and up her neck, across her cheeks. She was more than stunning. The glow of the magical lights made her nearly ethereal, a goddess of song and dance and happy things. “You’re charming when you want to be.”

“I’m always charming.” Rolan shifted away, enough to offer an arm, a smile on his face when she stared at him. “Care to take a walk?”

She gazed at him with suspicion, raising an eyebrow when he didn’t explain. “What more could I need than good music, excellent wine, and the people I love?”

She was teasing him. Of course she was. It wasn’t Juniper if she wasn’t poking fun at him. “Perhaps a moment alone with your favorite wizard?”

She studied him briefly, trying to discern the real reason from expression alone. He met her eyes with a lazy smirk, only for a laugh to escape her. Instead of taking his arm, she slipped her hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “What makes you think Gale isn’t my favorite?”

“I won’t dignify that with a response.” 

She laughed again, as melodic as her singing, and all feigned anger about his hair faded. No matter how irritated he became, whether at her or someone else, all she had to do was laugh and he forgave everything. “I’m sorry, but your hair-”

“You can say it looks ridiculous. I’ve seen it.”

She snorted before covering her mouth as if she couldn’t believe the sound came from her. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” 

“I’m not, but I swear there was a reason.” Juniper moved closer to wrap her arms around him, laying her cheek against his chest, the gesture simple yet powerful. She trusted him beyond anything he’d ever expected and he wrapped his arms around her, feeling her warmth pressed against him.

Brushing his lips against the spot between her horns, he sighed, a quiet happy sound. “You always have your reasons, don’t you?”

She giggled, the laughter rumbling into his own chest, and he couldn’t stop from grinning. He truly didn’t care what the reasons were. Only that he got to hold her at the end of the day. 

“Well, you know how Alfira was overwhelmed with students at the school and I offered to take Mirkon on for her?”

Juniper’s bard training with Mirkon was unorthodox, but the child was learning many things from her, enough that Rolan agreed to let them practice in the Tower on the days he was tending the shop. But what did that have anything to do with this? 

“Yes.”

“And do you remember how my father took Mattis on to learn how to run a business? So that one day, he might take over the instrument shop? And Silfy, with Zevlor’s Hellraiser training.” 

Pieces were clicking in his brain, but he still couldn’t figure out the path they were taking. “And was it Arabella who you wished me to take on as an apprentice?”

He felt a flash of irritation at the use of silence on him. Even if he was so inclined on taking an apprentice, he might refuse now from a childish pettiness.

“No, that was Ide. She mentioned wanting to read and…” She paused, biting her lip. “It doesn't matter.”

Her hands moved up his back, tracing a path across his clothing and around to his chest, brushing his shoulders briefly until she reached his neck. Then she played with the hair that freely hung around his shoulders. The easy touch of her fingers as they unraveled the braids almost made him shiver, the gentleness with which she worked nearly undoing him immediately.

“I was wondering if they could become a more… permanent addition to the Tower?” She hadn’t looked at him with those fiery blue eyes, but he could hear the gears turning in her head. “I figured they were already practically family, why not make it true?”

When she tilted her head up, Rolan glanced at her lips, unkissed since this morning and a dangerous feeling took hold in his chest. He wanted this for the rest of his life. The teasing, the longing, the love. The half made plans and late mornings and laughter. And a family, one he could have without fear of not being worthy. Cal and Lia and a roost of rambunctious children. He wanted all of it with this frustratingly beautiful woman in his arms.

Even if those children would probably drive him to an early grave.

Leaning forward, he captured her mouth in a kiss that shook him down to his very bones. Her lips were soft, insistent as she kissed him back, her hands still gentle as she pulled him closer. He couldn’t name every feeling swirling in him, but as soon as Juniper broke away and continued to undo the braids in his hair, he knew what he wanted.

For the first time in his entire life, he wasn’t second guessing himself.

“Marry me.”

She paused in her work, eyes wide and unblinking, fingers still against the braids still in his hair.

“We can work out the details later, the Tower, the children, the future.” Rolan promised her, forehead touching hers as he forced her to meet his gaze. She was still in shock, mouth hanging partially open. “But I want it all. With you. So I’m asking you to be my wife, Juniper.”

A laugh left her in a breathless gasp, mouth curling in a smile that he would work like hell to see every single day. “You do realize what you’re getting into, yes?”

Squeezing her sides, he pressed a kiss to her nose, a soft touch that pulled a quiet noise from her. “You’ll drive me mad every day with your incapable magical skills. Your penchant for chaos is second only to the kindness in your heart. I… do not deserve your devotion, but I’m asking for it. Please, marry me.”

Juniper laughed again, louder and slightly manic, but she finally met his gaze. And the only thing he saw reflected back at him was the same love he felt. “I promise I will drive you crazy for the rest of your life, Rolan. If you think you can handle that?”

A challenge that he’d gladly take. “Try your worst.”

Her mouth was on his again, arms squeezing him closer until he could barely breathe. And he couldn’t help, but to think that it was perfect.

#my writing #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 rolan #bg3 tav #tiefling #bard tav #tav x rolan #rolan x tav #tav: juniper #juniper x rolan

[purdledooturt]

drink break

Summary: Astarion didn't often run into Tav awake when he drank from her at night - not since the first time, anyway. But he can't say he doesn't enjoy it.

Note: I'm extremely grateful to the members of Cinnamontails's discord for their part in getting this out of WIP hell - it's so cool being surrounded by other creative people and there's something about it that pushes one to keep creating, so please come and join us! They also helped me come up with our fruit-based nickname for Astarion 🤠 [AO3 Link]

Tonight, Astarion was at peace.

He often took on first watch – he would take the time alone to hunt, get a break from the chatter of his companions, and he would read uninterrupted, winding down from a full day of travel or exploration or combat. It was the benefit of being an elf – he’d seen his companions running on less-than-ideal amounts of sleep, and their performance always suffered when they were poorly rested. Meanwhile he was free to hunt, crawl back into his tent, trance for four hours and be back to his usual perky self. He liked to lord the fact over Lae’zel, who begrudgingly agreed that being able to enter into a trance was a lot handier than needing to sleep – he cherished what wins he could have over her.

He had nowhere to be tonight – he had drained a bear the night before, spotting it sniffing around towards their camp chest which had just been restocked with supplies carefully catalogued by Gale. It wasn’t much of a challenge, and probably the closest he would have to a restaurant experience as a vampire, but the bear was extremely filling, and he didn’t want to be picky. He was feeling sated enough and didn’t really need to hunt, so he took the time to catch up on his reading while he sat watch, lounged on his carefully stacked pile of plush pillows at the entryway of his tent, enjoying the sounds of the forest and the mild breeze on his skin.

He greatly valued these moments. He occasionally wondered if this was how he would have spent his nights if he were still alive (minus the outdoor aspect of it). Often, he would look up at the sky and think about his old life at that wretched castle, and it would steel his resolve to never return. He prized his freedom, however temporary, and other than the occasional intrusions from his guardian, his mind was his own. His companions (tadpole included) made for far better company than his siblings. His companions listened to him and there was a friendly camaraderie that the surlier members of the group refused to acknowledge. They never told him to be silent, never tried to sabotage him, never told him he wasn’t good for anything but lies and seduction. They valued his input, and he, in turn, begrudgingly depended on them. It was the closest thing to friendship for him (although he couldn’t tell exactly what it was the stopped it from completely crossing over).

But what he appreciated the most was the ability to manage his own hunger. Gone were the days of mind-numbing starvation. Gone were the days where he fed on rats and bugs, getting what little sustenance he could from fetid and rotten blood. He was free to hunt as he pleased, though he stuck with animals as he’d been requested to, save for the times he got to bite into the necks of the less-friendly thinking creatures they encountered.

The most delicious of all, however, remained his first. Which reminded him —

Tav, their leader, had offered herself for a drink this morning, and he was waiting until she was well within her dreams before he wandered off to top himself up. While he didn’t explicitly need to feed, he always took her up on her offer as he couldn’t miss the opportunity to have some of her blood. Hers, for some reason, cleared up his mind the best.

He decided it was a good time to do so when Halsin woke up to take over – the two elves had an arrangement where they took turns to watch while the rest of their companions got their eight hours (or as close to it as they were afforded to). It worked out for everyone, and it meant Astarion would get his me-time guilt-free. He watched as the druid wandered towards the fire with blocks of wood and his beloved set of carving tools – he was in the process of creating little wooden trinkets for some of the party, after Shadowheart had requested he made her a little trinket of what animal he thought she would be if she were a druid. She got a little wooden goldfish the next day, which she carefully hung at the entryway of her tent, dangling like a sad, friendless mobile. She was so very pleased, smiling wider than usual as she cooed over the gift, and Astarion was surprised that the idea of being a forgetful fish didn’t offend the Sharran.

Neither of the elves said anything – they were both very good at keeping silent, not wanting to interrupt their companions while they slept. Astarion pulled himself up, leaving a folded note about camp chore allocation he’d been left one day as a bookmark. Wordlessly, he headed towards Tav’s tent as Halsin began carving away – tonight’s project seemed to be Karlach’s, and it looked to be a bear that looked more like Clive than an anatomically accurate one.

Astarion pushed past the flaps of the tent, careful not to let too much of the light from the campfire through. He didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but he was a bit soft on Tav, wanting to make sure she got her rest and was inconvenienced as little as possible by his feeding on her and accepting her generosity. Normally he would find her sleeping peacefully, exhausted from the day’s travels, and he would sup just a bit generally as a dessert before he left for his bedroll feeling lighter and happier.

He blinked at the sight in front of him as he let the tent flap fall behind him, and the sliver of light that came through from the campfire shrunk into a line and then nothing. His dark vision meant he could see her clearly even without the light.

She was hunched over, in such a poor posture he had to actively bite his tongue to not comment on it. Her hair was showing signs of chaos – she always was a bit of a wriggler in her sleep, and so her hair often tangled from the back (or so he noticed – he also noticed it tangled worse when it was freshly washed, as was the case tonight). With one eye open and the other closed, she lifted a finger at him in a gesture that he took to mean as ‘hold on’, while she chugged down the contents of her waterskin.

She looked charming. Adorable in a very unruly, wild gremlin kind of way.

She popped the cork lid back on the skin, smacking the top of it with practiced precision. Keeping one eye closed, she began to lay back down on to her bedroll, her hand gesturing towards him with palms up, inviting. Tensing her core, she brushed the hair from her neck and pushed her hair up on to the pillow, making things easy for him to access. She closed her eyes.

“Are you awake?” he whispered, as he began to kneel alongside her. Was she… sleepwalking?  Was she conscious? He’d never run into her awake for feedings since they started their arrangement. She adjusted her position as she laid down, laying her entwined fingers together over her stomach like a princess in a coffin, ready to rest. It was a comical sight with the unruly bedhead looking like a nest-crown.

The eye closest to him fluttered open briefly. She muttered, “yes,” like a childish princess impatiently waiting for her true love’s kiss. He wanted to snort at the sight.

“Shall I come back another time, darling?” he asked, still keeping his voice low. He watched as she pursed her lips and let out a forceful sigh through her nose. It had been a while since he’d fed from her while she was awake, and while the first time went better than he expected he didn’t want things to be awkward given how intimate the whole experience tends to be.

“It’s fine,” she replied, muttering under her breath. She cleared her throat quietly. Her voice was a bit scratchy despite the water, and Astarion wondered if she was perhaps getting sick. Humans were always so susceptible to illness. He wondered if the ground was too cold for her despite the bedroll. Maybe the bedroll was too thin?

Ah – he really was soft on her. The others must not be allowed to know, but he tried to scan through his inventory in his mind. He may be able to spare her another blanket to tuck under her bedroll, just to stop the cold from seeping into her back. But he’d have to do it in a way that made her think she “made him” give it up.

He enjoyed teasing her – it was so easy when she was so gullible.

He began to position himself over her neck, like he often did when she was in deep sleep and lightly snoring. “Well, at least you’re not snoring this time.”

Her eyes popped open and her mouth fell slack in shock, and she smacked his chest lightly, though she tensed when she noticed that he had his arms over her like a makeshift cage. Why did everything about vampirism hinge on sensuality? “I don’t snore,” she argued. She was on the verge of pouting, staring up at him as he hovered over her. Her eyes looked so large and so round in the dark. He could stare at them forever.

“You convince yourself that, darling,” he said with a smirk, as he lowered his mouth towards her neck. He could hear her heartbeat speed up, thudding loud in the silence of the tent. Gods, teasing her was just so fun. Excitement made her blood taste a little different. He made sure to let his breath hover over her skin. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

She tilted her head away to give him easier access to her neck, almost reflexively. He glanced at her from his periphery, noting the full pout and frown that marred her eyebrows. Petulantly, she snorted. “Absolutely not do I snore,” she whispered furiously, relacing her fingers together over her diaphragm. She closed her eyes again, but the small pout remained. It looked like it could be dispelled with a kiss, but he wasn’t about to test his luck.

He shushed her, enjoying the way she shivered from the base of her spine from the sensation. He knew a thing or two about appealing to someone without actually touching them. Breathily, he whispered, “Now, now – let’s be professional about this, darling.”

“Yes, let’s,” she said, quickly sparring against his flirting like she always did. Gods – he loved the sparring. It kept him on his toes, and not in the fight-or-flight manner he had grown accustomed to. “I always am. I think this is a you problem.”

He sighed again, dreamy and content. His hand found its usual place against the other side of her neck to keep her still. “I do so love dessert,” he muttered – his lips brushed against her skin closely before he bit down and began to feed. She stiffened at the action – she always did, even when she was asleep, but she remained stiff. He rubbed slow circles against the skin of her jaw near her ear. He pulled away briefly, keeping his lips mostly against her, to whisper, “relax, pet.”

She melted under his touch upon instruction, and he resumed his meal. He hummed in appreciation.

He tried to take little – he was still full, after all, and he didn’t technically need to feed. He just wanted to accept the offer, selfish as he was, to help clear his mind. He gave the puncture site some kitten licks, cleaning up the remaining blood, leaving nothing wasted. “Let me wipe that up,” he said, as he pulled back and straightened back to sitting position, studying his companion who now seemed to be at the edge of sleep. Her head lolled back as if trying to follow the sound of his voice.

“M’kay,” she slurred, as she began to turn on her side. He knew she was a side sleeper – she liked to sleep with her knees tucked up towards her chest and one hand tucked under her head. She often complained about pins and needles the next day, but never did anything to change her sleeping position. He knew she drooled, too, when she was extremely tired – he usually wiped the drool off when he was cleaning her up post-feed. “Thanks.”

“Do you… want water, darling?” He asked, as he tipped out some of the healing potion they kept explicitly for clean up into a clean handkerchief. He approached her and gently held her chin as he took care in dabbing the handkerchief against her wound. He checked for drool – nada. Good.

“D’be nice,” she muttered, her words fading into silence as sleep began to take her back into its arms. “Thanks, melon.”

He frowned. “Excuse me, darling – melon?” Where did that nickname even come from?

She hummed in agreement. “You’re my melon,” she said simply as her voice gave way to a light snore. Her breathing evened out, betraying slumber.

He shook his head as he took her empty water skin, making his way out of the tent and towards the big cauldron they used for clean, potable water. Halsin watched him with mild interest as he carefully refilled the water skin, before cautiously punching the cork back in place. No words were exchanged as he strode back to Tav’s tent, sliding in to find her with her arm stuck up.

“Gimme,” she muttered, and he rolled his eyes to hand the water skin to her. She sat back upright, eyes lidded and hair still a mess. “Gods, I’m so thirsty tonight.”

“That’s because you drool.”

“I do not,” she disputed, lips wrapped around the mouth of her water skin, but he was amused to find her reach up to her cheek anyway. She grumbled, before taking a big drink – he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d emptied the damn thing again. She gulped down the liquid greedily, before she let out a light ‘ah’ as she put the lid back in place.

Astarion’s hand shot out, offering to take the item. With a confused look, she passed it to him, and he put it back on top of the crate she used as a makeshift table. He stood and prepared to leave. “Thanks, Astarion. You didn’t have to do that,” she said softly, with a dopey smile that made her eyes crease at the corners in the way he adored. It made her look so innocent.

Never one to let opportunities pass, he countered, “well, nice of you to remember my name now, my dear. You called me a melon a few minutes ago.” He didn’t address the rest of her statement. He didn’t know how to deal with gratitude – so he didn’t.

She laid back down, closing her eyes and trying to paint herself as a picture of peace. It didn’t seem like she noticed his avoidance. “I didn’t call you ‘a melon’,” she clarified, though it did nothing to demystify the topic to Astarion, “I called you ‘melon’.”

“Yes, okay, darling – but where in the hells did that comes from?”

She frowned and one eye cracked open. “I thought you knew Elvish. Isn’t that ‘friend’ in Elvish?”

Oh. She meant ‘mellon’, but she used the wrong tone, didn’t elongate the correct syllables, and got essentially nothing of it right. He pursed his lips together, unsure of whether to correct her. It would be funnier to… not. Plus, he found he wasn’t very pleased with being called ‘friend’, but he was somehow fine with being called ‘Melon’. It was… cute. And it was special because no one had ever used that pet name on him before. He could let it pass.

“Yes,” he lied, “well, you just butchered the pronunciation a tiny bit, darling, but I see what you’re going for now.”

The single open eye rolled. “That’s what I get for being friendly. Get out of here, you melon.”

He scoffed. “Well, goodnight, my sweet,” he whispered, as he turned to head out of the tent. He cast her one final glance. He could make out her beady little eyes peeking at him and the telltale crease in their corners betrayed a grin she tried to hide beneath her threadbare blanket. He could imagine the little wrinkle her nose would make when she made such a face – it was his second favourite feature of hers.

He felt the intense urge to bundle her up and take her away – she looked so vulnerable and innocent at rest, and the fact that she trusted him while she was in this state gave him conflicted feelings. A part of his mind told him she was an idiot and the perfect target – too trusting, too naïve, too stupid. Fell quickly for a pretty face and a kind word. His insidious mind whispered there must be an ulterior motive to it all – a fetish or some such she was wanting to fulfill. Surely no one was this kind? This giving? If she were in Baldur’s Gate she would have followed him to slaughter without question. And he would have led her there, and the world would have been less bright without her in it.

It made his phantom heart clench. Another voice in his mind asked – what does that make you? You fell quickly for a pretty smile and a generous heart.

Well. It seemed they were just two fools meandering around.

“Sleep well.”

She let out a sleepy chuckle, followed by an impressive yawn. “Goodnight, my melon.”

Astarion emerged from Tav’s tent to find Halsin still carving away, deep in focus. The larger elf looked up at him and his expression softened, before returned to his work with a slight smile. The vampire walked over to his tent, slid in, located the spare blanket he was going to bait Tav into taking in the morning, and laid down to prepare for his trance. He was surprised to find his cheeks hurting.

As he closed his eyes, he thought of melons and wood carvings, and the faint scent of the rosewater that always lingered in Tav’s tent.

Tonight, Astarion was at peace.

#astarion x tav #soft astarion #there's something about waking up at 3AM to chug a full water bottle that gets me feeling real gremlin #9 INT Tales #purdle-writes #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #baldur's gate 3 fanfic

[bmtillerbabe]

A Beneficial Arrangement

inspired by BG3, and my crazy love for the fanged vampire spawn - I wrote original fanfic content (smut and sex galore)

I posted the full story on AO3, but here is the first chapter :)

Enjoy!

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The campfire crackled and popped in the night air as a charred log shifted within the ashes, sending sparks dancing up away into the night sky.

  Your camp was quiet. Calm. And for the first time in a while – peaceful.

  The road you had traversed in the last few weeks had more than taken its toll on you and your party members, and you could not only feel the physical exhaustion throughout your soul, but your mind and heart as well. Alone with your thoughts was a dangerous thing…. Albeit a good one.

  Your eyes shimmered, reflecting the warm, golden glow of the flames. You watched in admiration as the tender trills of fire danced and swayed, bending in the slightest breeze before righting itself once more. You adjusted your legs and shifted your weight to avoid any pins and needles forming, wrapping your arms around your knees as you pulled them up to your chest.

  This was nice.

  Gentle snoring and glowing coming from Karlach’s tent. Scratch breathing softly, pattering his legs every now and again. Halsin off in some corner, meditating to the moon.

  And then, a pale, moonlit figure making its way towards where you now sat, approaching from the underbrush nearby.

  Astarion.

  Your head turned to meet his blood-red eyes, the soft tendrils of silver hair that curled around his face, and the tiny trail of blood that dripped from the corner of his mouth when he grinned. His gaze met yours as he reached up to wipe his mouth clean, licking the side of his hand so as not to let anything go to waste.

  You found yourself ashamed to admit that you had watched his actions much more intently than you should.

  “Well,” he drawled, “someone’s up late.” Sauntering over, he plopped himself down on the ground next to you. “Can’t sleep?”

  You smirked. “I could say the same thing to you.”

  “Ah, but my dear, I am a vampire, after all. I have a reason to be out at this hour.” He rested his forearm on his own knee, eyeing his fingers again for any trace of leftover blood. You took this moment to let your eyes trail down his figure. His shining white hair, his sharp jawline, pointed ears….  Gods, he looked perfect. Looked delicious.

  You couldn’t deny that over the last several weeks, as well as fighting your way through numerous battles, there was a battle going on within your mind every day that you couldn’t seem to win. Astarion was a beautiful, beautiful being, and every day you spent with him, you felt yourself slipping away more and more; your heart aching to be near him, to touch him, to feel him….

  You shook your head to yourself, trying to shy away from the thoughts that threatened to consume you. Astarion was a person. A party member. A friend.

  Yes. A friend.

  And you’re not supposed to think about friends that way.

  But gods. When he sat like this, literally glowing in the moonlight, eyes shining like liquid rubies under thick, dark lashes…. 

  “I’m just trying to relax some before tomorrow comes along,” You half-answered his question of why you were awake so late at night. You sighed, painfully tearing your eyes away from him and back to the fire. “It’s been a long week, and we have an even longer one ahead of us. Not only do we have to make our way to Moonrise, but we also must find a way to accrue some gold along the way. We need a way to stay alive without draining our only cleric.” You attempted a laugh.

  Your heart skipped a beat at the chuckle that rumbled from the back of the pale elf’s throat. “That might not be such a terrible idea.” He agreed.

   Apparently finding a small speck of blood, Astarion lifted his finger to his mouth to further clean himself off.

  Your stomach did a little flip at the sound of his gentle suckle, and your mouth watered. You swallowed involuntarily.

  To distract yourself again, you let your mind wander to another topic.

  Why he still chose to go out hunting late at night. Although you appreciated the fact that he seemed to care enough about the party’s outlook on his vampirism, it never seemed to bother you that much. Even when you had found him standing over you, fangs bared, those nights ago. Not only was there some kind of morbid curiosity about the whole thing…. You couldn’t deny the fact that somehow, inexplicably, it turned you on.

  Drinking blood had never been something you actively had sought out before, but ever since this beautiful creature had come into your life, you had to admit – it was on your mind so much more now. There was just something so…. Intimate about it. Having to give oneself over so fully, so entirely, trusting the other person so much as to play with your life. It was thrilling.

  And sexy.

  Not to mention, the feeling you had gotten when his cool, firm lips planted on your neck, his sharp fangs grazing your pulse before sinking in with a soft pop, and feeling him drink from you and your life’s force that first time….

  Maybe it was the night air, maybe it was your own thoughts, but you shivered.

  Astarion was suddenly concerned, and a part of you mentally berated yourself for drawing more attention towards yourself. That was the exact opposite of what you wanted.

  He cocked his head to the side and eyed you. “Oh. I do seem to forget how easily you humans tend to react to the weather.” He chuckled, a pure, angelic sound to your ears, “I can’t even remember the last time I was cold.”

  You were thankful that he hadn’t probed further into your mind via tadpole to reveal the true nature of your gooseflesh. Or how his gaze alone seemed to ignite a new fire deep within you, warming you from the inside out.

  And before you had a chance to think better of it, the question blurted out.

  “Why do you still go hunting?”

  Astarion’s laugh was the audible version of a glistering gemstone. Your eyes caught his fangs. “Well, in case you haven’t noticed my dear, there’s hardly any real food for me around here. Lest I remind you that I can’t survive alone on whatever vegetables and wines we find.”

  But you were shaking your head before he finished, raising a hand. “No, no, no. That’s not what I meant. I mean….” You gulped, almost unable to speak directly to him.

  Gods, could you smell him?

  “I mean…” Your breath quickened as the question you had wanted so desperately to ask him for many, many nights now bubbled up in your throat. Perhaps you had drank too much wine this night, perhaps your inhibitions had gotten the better of you. Or perhaps, you just wanted to see what would happen. Either way, before you could talk yourself out of it, you heard your own voice before it had even registered that you had begun to talk again,

  “I mean, why waste so much energy and time when all of us need you at your peak during the day… You’re a very important member of our party… and it just makes more sense, and… I want to help everyone in any way I can…” You seemed to be talking to yourself now, more than to him, trailing off every few words and stumbling over yourself in an endless barrage of words.... 

  Nevertheless, his eyes were locked onto yours. You tried to get a reading from him in any way you could but found your insight lacking. He could be thinking of the temple of Shar for all you knew, and you’d never know any better.

  He waited for you to finish, eyeing you curiously.

  As pathetic an excuse as it may sound, you couldn’t help yourself. You just had to say it.

  “You.... can feed on me, instead." Hearing it sounded worse than thinking it, so you quickly added, "If you like.”

  Astarion seemed genuinely surprised at your words. His eyes widened, but he otherwise made no move.

 Shit, You thought to yourself. Shit, shit, shit, way to go Tav, now you've done it... 

  Stomach in knots when he didn’t say anything, you quickly began to back up, trying to fix what you just said, the longer it had time to sink in.

  “Well, it just…  I mean…  You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just figured that it would be so much easier than to try and hunt, and maybe find something to eat, maybe not. It would just be easier to…. Y’know….” You shrugged, cheeks flushing ever so slightly and a shiver threatening to break across your skin again, for a completely different reason this time, “I can help.”

  Yes, that was why you said it. Definitely. You just wanted to help. After all, he was a fellow party member, and you would hate for any of your party to feel alienated or alone, or punished for something that really wasn’t their choice to begin with.

  Yep. That’s exactly what it was.

  Astarion was quiet for a moment, contemplating. His crimson eyes danced between the fire and you before finally resting on your face. You found his expression still as unreadable as before, but…. You thought that maybe, just maybe, you could detect a hint of… warmth?

  “You…. you would do that?” His voice betrayed him for just a mere moment before it was concealed under his mask again. It was a sincere question, and he sounded…. Eager, almost. Perhaps you had been right. “Even after I almost…” He grimaced at the memory of the first time you had allowed him to drink from you, when he had nearly killed you caught in the bloodlust.

  You gulped, realizing the implications your words meant. But with the fire in your belly roaring into a flame, you nodded, pushing any fear to the back of your mind to sit behind the desire that was ever growing.

  “Of course.” You offered, resisiting the urge to reach out and touch his hand. “It just makes sense. Besides, think of all the energy you’ll save this way. You’ll have more time to rest, less exertion. Not to mention, I – we,” you quickly corrected yourself, “– don’t have to worry about a stray thief or wild animal catching you off guard. It’s the smart thing to do.” You concluded with a grimace, realizing it had gone from something kind to something akin to a sales pitch at the nearest Blacksmith’s Shop.

  He seemed to ponder this, almost as if in disbelief. This was definitely not the conversation he expected to have with you this night and you could tell.

  You awaited his answer, both eager for him to say both yes and no equally.

  Astarion looked back into the campfire again. It was quiet again between you once more – the nightsounds of the world seeming to be on full blast in the background. But slowly, he began to nod.

  “I think that would be a beneficial arrangement,” he concurred. “This.... This is not something to take lightly, you know. Offering blood is... well, not for just anyone. And I would hate for our friendship to come to an end simply because of a misunderstanding. So, I propose a counter-offer." He shifted his legs towards you - your stomach dropping - and looked directly into your eyes. 

  That damn shiver....

  "Alright. I will agree to allow you to share your blood with me, on one condition. We try it for two weeks, and revisit the notion to see how you're faring afterward. I won't need to feed from you every night, mind you, but..." His eyes squinted, and he... smirked?  "You may find the side effects to be more than you bargained for." He paused, looking you over, and the silence between you felt an eternity. 

  "Do we have a deal?" 

  Almost lost in his unrelenting gaze, you chided yourself mentally with a nod, releasing the breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. 

  "Yes," You cleared your throat, realizing that you had not only stopped breathing, but stopped swallowing as well, and your throat was now scratchy. You tried again, "Yes. Deal." 

  "Excellent." Astarion's eyes shone with something akin to malice, but it was quickly hidden behind his mask once again. With a much warmer smile, he thrust his hand out towards you, and you shook on it, sealing the deal. 

  You gasped softly when he yanked your grip to bring your face closer to his, and whispered - "This is a gift, you know. Thank you. I will not forget it.”

  You spent the next few minutes talking over the details and times of day when he could feed on you, coming to the agreement that he would only feed on you at night, whilst everyone else was asleep; they were to tell no one else of the arrangement; and it was to be done in your tent, while you were awake, on the off chance he would accidentally drank too much again, and you would be able to push him off. Or, at the very least, call for help.

  The finer details could be worked out along the way.

  Astarion grinned at her as the conversation came to a close. “Well, darling, this has been a surprisingly delightful conversation. As I am unfortunately sated at this moment, do expect me tomorrow night,” He paused and tilted his head. It made your stomach swoon. It was the eyes. It had to be the eyes.... 

  “And keep in mind, darling; I shall be quite hungry.”

  You managed to keep yourself from shivering this time.

  The two of you sat next to the fire in comfortable silence for a time after that, watching the fire slowly burn itself out.

  And maybe you had fallen asleep. Maybe the warmth of the fire had finally gotten to you, or maybe you just felt …. Safe. Maybe one of the goblins had hit you just a little too hard in the head with their clubs, and knocked a few braincells loose. 

  Either way, you stirred on the cool ground, only to wake and find your head resting on your bedroll and a blanket wrapped around your slender frame.

  Blinking away the sleep that threatened to pull you back under its dark tendrils, you slowly rose until you were laying on your elbows and lazily adjusted your vision to your new surroundings.

  You were in your tent.

  How…?

  The candle next to your roll flickered, casting little monsters in their shadows, and you yawned. Try as you may, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling sweetly to yourself, closing your eyes against the butterflies in your stomach.

  Perhaps you weren’t so crazy after all for offering yourself to him. Perhaps this would indeed help everyone in the party after all…. Perhaps this would help you not be so crazily obsessed with those crimson eyes, and those sharp fangs, or the way he smiled when he thought no one could see…

  Perhaps….

 You dozed back off before you could fully finish your thought.

Read the rest on AO3 now! 🥰

#astarion smut #Astarion #Fluff #Smut #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #Astarion sex #Fanfic #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #fic

[quartz-crow]

Bleeding Heart - Pt. 2 (Astarion x reader)

Hope you guys enjoy

Read part one here 🌿✨

Chapter 2

Astarion stared out across the harbour. The sea was slightly dappled in the moonlight, but it didn’t shimmer that much for it was a still evening. He almost wished it had been stormy night - for he would have quite enjoyed watching the waves swell as the skies thundered above. At least then it would have matched his thoughts - as dramatic as that must have seemed. The high-elf rested his chin in his hand and exhaled a lengthy sigh. He hadn’t felt quite this way… well, as far as he could remember, not for at least two hundred years. He hadn’t felt worry’s hands clawing at his very being in quite this way for a long time. When Tav had fallen out of the sky earlier… well, she had refused to look at him for some odd reason. And that was even considering the fact that he had carried her back the way to camp - despite Karlach’s pleas to ‘have a turn to help’ as she so put it. No, instead her eyes had been shut or fixated on the ground below. What’s more, she wouldn’t speak… not at all. It was as if she were lifeless in his arms… and it reminded him of the victims he had brought back for Cazador. The very comparison made his stomach churn. He couldn’t even bear to contemplate the thought of ever hurting her - no, he’d rather throw himself onto an open fire. He felt sick.

“Is… Astarion alright?” Shadowheart asked softly from where she sat beside the campfire. She had been watching Astarion for a little while and she noticed that her rogue comrade hadn’t moved from the shore for a few hours now. Gale sighed and glanced up from his book. He had been enjoying refamiliarising himself with various rare cantrips and potions - that was before he had been interrupted, of course. Regardless, he too observed Astarion’s figure in the distance for a few moments.

Both the wizard and cleric watched on in horror as Astarion suddenly haunched over and started to vomit. After composing himself, Astarion glared towards the campfire, causing both Gale and Shadowheart to quickly look away. “I didn’t know vampires could be sick” Shadowheart muttered after a few minutes of silence. “Oh yes,” Gale replied softly, “Unlike what folk law may suggest, vampires aren’t too dissimilar to you and I… Although, I’ve never sunk my teeth into a woman in quite such a literal way”. Shadowheart’s nose curled up in disgust, “Gale. That isn’t funny”. Gale chuckled and closed his book, before carefully placing it on the ground beside him. “I’m kidding! Well, kind of, but let’s not forget that Astarion isn’t quite a vampire… he’s sort of a half-mortal, being a vampire spawn after all”. Shadowheart cautiously picked at the bread in her lap, “I know that, but still… he’s not being his usual narcissistic self”. Gale raised a wily brow, “…Is that such a bad thing?”. “No… I suppose not. I was just wondering if his odd behaviour had anything to do with Tav falling from the sky earlier”.

The wizard’s eyes slowly flickered across at Halsin’s tent on the other side of camp. The druid had been talking to Tav for a little while now - apparently he was testing out her reflexes and whatnot after the fight earlier. “I imagine he’s just worried about her”. Shadowheart furrowed her brow, “He’s not the only one who is you know.”. Gale smiled softly. He was almost taken aback by Shadowheart’s open affection for their friend. “Shadowheart” he spoke gently “You know that’s not what I meant… We all care about Tav, she means a great lot to us all. But you know how she and Astarion are together…”. Shadowheart sighed and tossed her bread onto the open fire. “I know”.

You blearily watched Halsin as he ground up a few herbs in a pestle and mortar. Candlelight flickered softly within Halsin’s tent and whilst it would have normally been comforting, you couldn’t help but see Astarion’s face in every shadow. You had spent the entire evening retelling your vision to Halsin and now your eyes throbbed in pain from all the crying you had done. “I’m sorry Halsin” you whimpered as you wrapped his blanket around your shoulders. The aroma of lavender calmed your senses as Halsin continued to grind the herbs in front of you. You watched as the mixture slowly turned from a gritty paste into a silvery liquid. Halsin reached for a small cup, which he had obviously carved out of pine at some point. He slowly poured the liquid into the cup. Once it was full, he raised his palm above the mixture and ran his index finger clockwise along the ring. “Somnus angélus”. Halsin had murmured so faintly that it was only just about audible to your ears. Orange droplets fell from his palm as he repeated the charm. These droplets slowly trickled into the cup, which shone brightly with magic. “Here” he leaned forward to pass you the cup, “It’s not much, but it should keep the dreams at bay for tonight”. You took the cup and cautiously watched as the orange droplets glimmered from within the liquid. “Thank you Halsin, but I don’t think I can drink this… What if Othim needs to talk to me?”.

Halsin stared at you. He took in each inch of your frame… your shoulders seemed to carry the weight of the world, and now your eyes were equally as heavy with worry. Despite previously telling him about your encounters with Othim over the past few months, Halsin had his doubts about how much this dream visitor of yours was to be trusted. “Friend, please drink… He’s already proven that you don’t have to be asleep for him to reach you”. You frowned and slowly nodded. Yes, that seemed to be the truth as you had learnt from today. You were so incredibly exhausted… not only from the day of physical excursion but also from how you had tortured yourself with… well, the image of Astartion killing all those peo - no, stop! You squeezed your eyes shut and quickly took a swig of the liquid. Thankfully, it tasted not unlike peppermint tea. With a sigh you placed the little wooden cup down, “Thank you Halsin… I.. thank you”. Halsin nodded and smiled softly. He readjusted himself to sit beside you and gently wrapped an arm around you. You felt your eyes grow wearier. You could feel the warmth of the potion as it slowly made its way down your throat… and as it went, it was as if all the pain was lifted from your physical body. “It’s okay” Halsin murmured as you leant your body against his. He rested his chin on top of your head as you dozed off to sleep. He vowed to himself that he would stay awake all night if you needed him to. The wood-elf had a tremendous amount of respect for you, not only as a leader but as a friend too… and through all the months of knowing you, he had never seen you in so much pain.

As such, he wanted to help you in any way he could.

#astarion fanfic #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion #halsin #halsin x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 x you #bg3 x reader #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #shadowheart #gale of waterdeep #fem reader #reader insert #halsin x tav

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Healing Words

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 4,295

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Read on AO3

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Summary: Tav continues to heal from her injuries as the group sets out to do more exploring. Halsin of course stays behind to look over her recovery. Part 4 of the slow burn fic. Tav and Halsin POVs.

Tags: Slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, love confessions, eventual smut, light angst, implied past rape/non-con, graphic description of injuries.

A/N: Here comes lots of Tav and Halsin dialogue, getting to know each other over some healing.

Tav’ahria’s surroundings swirled around her like fog on a cool spring morning. The familiar, ornate walls of her home came into focus. A huge, woven rug spread across the large floor in front of her dampening the sound of her footsteps.

“Come here, little flower.” Her father’s icy voice called out to her from a nearby room.

She walked into the plush sitting room to see her father lounging in his favorite chair, glass of wine in hand.

Really? It’s not even midday yet.

“You called me, Father?” She called out to him as she perched on the edge of a chair across from him.

“Yes, my child. Come closer.” He gestured to the chair directly to his right. Odd, he never wants us near him. As she sat down, he placed his wine glass on the table in front of them.

“I want to tell you that I am pleased with your work. House Mendelre is stronger than ever, thanks to your incredible efforts, Tav’ahria.” He smiled at her; the expression was unsettling.

‘Incredible efforts,’ it took everything in her not to laugh in his face. As if she had a choice to partake in the first place. She had a hard time determining just when her father started to become so power hungry. When her and Tev were children, he was quite happy. It was only in the last few years that they noticed the harshest change in his demeanor.

“Thank you, Father.” She said quietly, giving a small nod.

“I have a gift for you, my little flower.” He produced a small jewelry box from a pocket in his coat, holding it out to her. The ornate box was covered in gold engravings, tiny twisting vines with rounded leaves adorning them.

She carefully took the box from his hands, unsure of whether this was a trick.

“Open it, I had it made especially for you.” He was still smiling at her.

When she opened the box, the gasp escaped her lips before she could control it. Resting in a small bed of silky, red fabric was a stunning brooch in the shape of an orchid. Not just any orchid, the thorned, bleeding orchid that was the symbol of their house. Intricate gold strands made up the stem of the flower, tiny studs lined them to create the thorns. The petals were carved amethyst, the inside of the gems sparkled as if they captured one of the stars from the night sky inside. Three small rubies were delicately suspended from the petals, cut to look like drops of blood. She carefully removed the small treasure and held it in her palm.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

“It’s incredible…I…I love it.” And she did, it was a lovely piece of jewelry, easily the finest of anything she owned. “Thank you.” She looked back up at him, surprised.

“I thought you could wear it to our gala in a few days. It is sure to be a lovely topic of conversation.” He sat back in his chair.

“Of course, I know just the dress to compliment it perfectly.” She forced a smile onto her face, the smile she had been practicing every day for the last decade or so.

“That is most excellent to hear. This will potentially be the most vital one yet. One particularly important family will be attending. Tell me, what do you know of the Sylvyre family?”

For some reason, the mention of that name caused a white-hot burning sensation to pulse down her right thigh, she wanted to scream but couldn’t seem to make a sound. She closed her eyes, trying to will the pain away.

When she opened them, she was back in the grand hall of their estate, the stunning black gown she wore was trailing lightly behind her. With every step, the small jewels embedded in the sheer fabric danced in the light. The beautiful brooch given to her by her father was fastened securely on the left side of her chest. She opted to leave her hair down this evening, only pinning back a small section in the front to keep it out of her eyes. Every other step exposed her left leg through the high slit in the skirt of her dress. Looking around the room, everything was decorated lavishly, more so than usual. Tables covered with food and drink were spread all throughout the estate.

Gods forbid someone has to walk more than 10 paces to get something to eat.

While she was absentmindedly rearranging a small vase of flowers, her father walked up beside her and grabbed her by the arm. He pulled her close so only she could hear him talking.

“Remember, little flower, our priority is Noravi Sylvyre. Split your attention with others if you must, but he comes first. That means no distractions with Tev’aron. Your brother has his own responsibilities to manage. Do you understand?” His voice was low and threatening.

“Yes, father. I understand.” She held his gaze, trying to appear confident. He nodded as he released her arm and strode off towards his study.

Shaken by their encounter, she made her way to a small chair in front of one of the large windows near the entrance. From here, she could see most of the vast garden that comprised the front of their home.

“Father seems especially nervous tonight.” Tev’s voice made her jump.

“Apparently one particular family this evening is of great interest to him.” She replied once her heart rate had returned to normal. Tev lowered his voice as he spoke again, kneeling down next to her chair.

“Then he’s probably more distracted than normal too. This is our chance, Ria. We can leave them behind. You and I can go out into the world together.” He whispered, desperation apparent in his voice.

“Tev I…I can’t. Not tonight. I fear what father will do if we fail, especially if I ruin this gathering.” Her voice was shaking along with her hands. “He’s already said I can’t be distracted by you tonight.”

“Ria, you’re not a little girl. For fucks’ sake you’re just over a century old! I’ve begged and pleaded with you to consider this and now I need an answer. I can’t stay here anymore, Ria, I just can’t.” His voice had started rising, but he quickly brought it back down. “Not even for you, my sister.”

“He won’t let me go, Tev’aron. I’ve been too useful to him. If I leave with you, he will hunt me down and drag me back here.” Her words caused Tev’s face to fall.

“Right. Well, seeing as I’m not so useful, I will be leaving this life behind me. Tonight. I hope you’ll join me Tav’ahria, otherwise I’m afraid this is goodbye.” When he stood up, he leaned over to kiss the top of her head softly. He stormed off out of the room, his hands balled up into fists at his side.

“Tev? Tev…come back…” Her voice was quiet, trying not to draw attention to herself. She stood up to follow him, but another wave of searing pain ripped down her left leg. Looking down at her leg, it was a shredded, bloody sight. She cried out, squeezing her eyes shut at the involuntary tears coming to her eyes.

This time when she opened them, she was lying in the Selûnite temple. She bolted upright, startled by the sudden change in surroundings. Halsin was kneeling next to her, one hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Tav. You’re alright.” His low, soothing voice helped calm her down as she wiped at her very sweaty forehead.

“What…what’s wrong?” She was completely disoriented, her head was spinning, and she felt as if she was going to collapse back on to the ground again. Halsin caught her and helped prop her up against the wall behind her.

“Yesterday, you were injured very badly. Do you remember?”

She took a couple of deep breaths and concentrated. Hazy memories of their fights started to clear up in her mind.

“Yes…yes there were minotaurs. Or was it the bulette?” The fog in her brain continued to dissipate. “You were right about this place being dangerous.” She let her head rest against the wall behind her.

Halsin chuckled softly. After he made sure she was able to sit up on her own, he moved back down to sit by her legs. Seeing the state of her leg was a shock. Her shin had long, ragged tears down the length. She could still see the bone in a couple of spots even as Halsin was still working to heal her. If this is what it looked like now, she couldn’t imagine how bad it was when she was brought back yesterday.

“How long was I out?” She asked, sucking in a sharp breath as her skin slowly worked its way closed.

“It’s hard to tell down here, but you were at least out all last night and I would guess it’s about midday right now.” One of his hands rested on her knee while the other slowly hovered back and forth over the rest of her leg. She would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the feel of him touching her skin. It was like…wait a minute. Where are my clothes?

She suddenly realized she was not wearing pants under the blanket that was covering her lap, and the shirt she had on was not her own.

“Uh, Halsin?” She asked, starting to blush.

“Hm?” He was concentrating hard on the massive wound.

“Where are my clothes?” Instinctively, she tried to pull her legs up close to her causing her to bump her injured leg on Halsin’s hand. She let out a small yelp from the pain.

“Easy, it’s okay.” Smiling reassuringly, he helped guide her leg back down in front of her. “I’m sorry. We had to cut some of your armor off so we could get to your injuries. Wyll had a spare shirt that we put you in so we could still get to the puncture on your stomach easily. That one should at least be healed now.”

She placed her hand over the spot where she now remembered being gored by one of the minotaur horns. A phantom pain pierced her while remembering. After recalling the injuries received, she concentrated on trying to ignore the fact that she was half naked being rehabilitated by a man who she was increasingly attracted to. The blush on her face was spreading across her neck and chest as well. She tried to pull the flowy shirt up over her face a bit, but that just exposed her stomach more.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, my friend.” He assured her, his smile distracting as ever, pausing briefly to turn and face her.

“I am a healer, first and foremost. There is very little I have not seen. I’ve delivered the babies of close friends, Tav. Know that your comfort and recovery are far more important to me than any amount of perceived immodesty.”

She peeked further out from the collar of the shirt to look at him, noticing that one hand was still resting gently on her knee.

“Well, if I ever have a baby at least I know who to send for.” She grumbled. The sound of her voice was muffled by the fabric.

Halsin looked at her for a moment, and then let out a loud laugh, it was deep and happy, and it made her entire body feel warm. He turned back to continue his spell. Suddenly he stopped again, a puzzled look on his face.

“Huh.” He sighed.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, finally removing her face from the shirt.

“Yes, I just…” He trailed off. “I don’t remember the last time I actually laughed. Not a real laugh like that at least.”

Her heart broke for him a little. She thought back to the other evening with Karlach, how they laughed all night. Even before that, most of their traveling group had all joked around the campfire and teased each other on their long walks throughout the day – and they all barely knew one another. Halsin seemed well-liked at the grove, she wouldn’t have guessed that he didn’t have someone to laugh with there.

“Really?”

“My time as Archdruid left little time for jokes or kind-spirited teasing. There were no breaks, I was never off-duty. Nettie and Rath were the ones I was closest to, I mentored them just as I did Kagha. Yet I would argue I had more of a paternal relationship with them than a true friendship.”

“That…sounds lonely.” Tav said.

“It could be at times. I love the druids in the grove, they’re the only family I’ve known for some time. But I was still their leader, not necessarily their friend.” His voice was quiet and sad, breaking her heart further. “Although, there was a particularly entertaining raven that frequented the grove. I did share some laughs with her.” The thought seemed to cheer him up a bit.

“Well…you have a nice laugh. I hope I get to hear more of it.” She placed one of her hands on his shoulder. He leaned into her touch slightly and sighed, his eyes closed. When she went to take her hand back, his hand shot up to hold it in place. She had to bite down on her lips to keep from smiling like a fool.

They sat like that for a few minutes in silence. Eventually Halsin let go of her hand and resumed tending to her leg. She leaned back against the wall and watched him quietly work, the pain slowly fading away with each pass of his hands.

***

Halsin was able to finish Tav’s leg with a couple more passes of healing spells. He watched as she bent her leg and straightened it again, wiggling her toes as well.

“Good as new.” She smiled at him again. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He stood up with a grunt and walked over to sit next to her against the wall.

Lunari suddenly came bounding in, flopping onto Tav’s lap.

“Oh, there’s my girl!” She buried her face in the thick fur.

“She has seldom left your side since you were dragged back.” He reached over to scratch the wolf’s ears.

Lunari reached next to Tav and grabbed something.

“What’s that? Let me see.” She wrestled something out of her mouth.

“Hey, what’s Clive doing here?”

“Who?” Halsin was suddenly flustered, thinking he had missed a member of their traveling party. Tav held up the small stuffed bear that Karlach had left here the night before.

“Clive. According to Karlach, he wards off evil.” She said, pointing at the bear.

“She left him with you last night.” He couldn’t help but smile as Tav hugged the bear to her chest.

“So…where is everyone else?”

“They all decided to head back up to the surface and scout out some other areas. We were hoping that maybe we could find another nearby Underdark pass since this area seems so dangerous already.”

“Everyone?” She asked, skeptical.

“Yes, Karlach insisted that they all go together.” He was fighting a smirk as he said the words.

“Karlach…” Tav muttered under her breath, her face reddening again. The blush was almost enough to hide the smattering of freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks.

“Could I ask you a question, Tav?”

“Sure.” She set Clive back on the ground next to her.

“I noticed two small scars on your neck. Where did you get them?”

Her eyes suddenly went wide, and he heard her breath catch.

“Right…well…” She paused for a moment before sighing heavily. “No use sugar-coating it I suppose. They’re bite marks. From a vampire.”

“A vampire?” Halsin felt a small spike of panic. Then, the realization came to him. He was shocked with himself that he hadn’t pieced it together before this.

“…Astarion?” He asked.

“Yes, he is a vampire.” Tav grimaced a bit, waiting for his reaction.

“And he bit you?” Halsin had been trying to gather information about everyone in their party, but a vampire wasn’t something he had expected.

“Well…yes. I mean he asked. Kind of. He tried to sneak up on me at first, but I caught him. But after that he did ask nicely.” She stumbled over her words trying to explain.

“But…but he can walk in the sun.” He was racking his brain for any knowledge of vampires who could walk about freely.

“It’s the tadpole. At least Astarion seems to think so. Until a little over a week ago, he couldn’t be in sunlight at all.”

“Interesting…”

“Don’t worry, he won’t cause any problems. Gods know he gets his fill of blood now with all the fighting we do.” She assured him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, to be honest it’s just not something that’s at the front of my mind at the moment.”

“It’s quite alright. I think it is rather admirable that you accepted him regardless.” He couldn’t help but be impressed. Most people he knew would stake a vampire through the chest before they had a chance to explain themselves.

“Well, we all have our problems. Who am I to dole out judgment and punishment? Especially in our predicament. It’s like you said to me, I’d rather judge people by their actions than by things outside of their control. I know what it’s like to have to pretend to be something you’re not...” Her voice had become quieter. “I don’t wish that feeling on anyone. If that means adding a vampire to our team, so be it.”

Halsin nodded along silently. The wisdom in her words surprised him for some reason. Karlach was right though, he felt remarkably comfortable talking with her.

A shiver ran across his body, he had forgotten how cold it could be in the Underdark without the sun to help warm his skin. Perhaps he would have to find a bedroll to use during their time down here. Tav nudged him in the side, holding out part of the blanket. She unfolded it all the way so it could easily fit over both of their laps, earning a whining protest from Lunari at the movement.

“Is there anything else I should know? Outside of the tadpole problem that is.” He was genuinely curious about the strange troupe he had joined.

“Well…” Her voice had gone up an octave or two. “How much have you talked with Gale?”

Halsin settled against the wall behind him as Tav launched into a summary of the eccentric lives their companions led. She started with Gale, telling him how he was once Mystra’s chosen until he absorbed a dark sliver of the Weave. Now, he had to consume magical items to prevent it from exploding, potentially taking countless other lives alongside him. A truly bizarre affliction that was well beyond his healing abilities. Next, she explained Karlach’s unfortunate story, how her heart was replaced with an infernal engine after she was sold into Zariel’s servitude. A story that broke his own, especially seeing how incredibly happy and kind she was. They were on a quest of sorts to find materials to fix it.

Wyll’s tale lined up with Karlach’s, she told him how he was tasked with killing her after being deceived into thinking she was a devil. Upon meeting her, he realized he had been lied to and refused to finish the job. A truly commendable choice that unfortunately had a heavy price. Halsin was not incredibly familiar with warlock pacts, but he was surprised to find someone with a heart like Wyll’s tangled in one. Lae’zel seemed to still be a bit of a mystery to her. The intense githyanki was hellbent on finding a Creche to rid them of their tadpoles, but from what he gathered the others weren’t fully convinced. He knew little of Vlaakith, but from what he remembered she was an unforgiving ruler, not likely to hand out help and forgiveness lightly.

Finally, they landed on Shadowheart, who was apparently a devoted follower of Shar. The bitterness in Tav’s tone was impossible to miss as it reflected his own. Shar’s wrath is what brought the shadow curse into existence, after all. Shadowheart was apparently the one who had found the alien artefact they carried, the one that protected them from the voice of the Absolute and from subsequently evolving into mind flayers. Out of all the companions, this alliance puzzled him the most. They weren’t aware of her worship when they first joined up, and Tav wasn’t willing to dismiss her once they found out. She said regardless of their religious differences, they needed each other.

“That my friend…is quite a collection of tales. How is that the tadpole manages to not even be the most pressing matter here?” He couldn’t help but laugh a little at the words.

“Yes, we’re quite the group of unlikely heroes.” She laughed as well; the sound was as light as windchimes on a breezy summer day. The pull in his chest returned, and he pushed it down.

They sat together in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of Lunari’s breathing, eventually joined by Scratch as well. The friendly dog came over to lay on Halsin, tail wagging slightly as he rested in his lap.

“Oh! I almost forgot again. I have something for you.” Tav finally broke the silence. She gestured to her pack on the other side of him. He handed it over and watched as she dug through the large bag and produced a pipe. His pipe.

“That’s…that’s my pipe! I was looking all over for this before I left.” He took it gently in his hands, fingers running over the familiar grooves in the wood.

“Sorry about that. I had taken it from the grove hoping Lunari could use it to help track you.” She smiled sheepishly.

“No harm done. Thank you for returning it, it’s very special to me.” He clutched the pipe to his chest.

“How so?”

“An old friend made this for me, one who I lost a long time ago, before my time at Moonrise.” The memory brought tears to his eyes as he took in the familiar tobacco scent.

“Okay, it’s my turn to ask a question.” She said, setting her pack to the side.

“By all means.”

“It seems to me like you feel responsible for the shadow curse. Why is that?” Her eyes were studying him closely, looking for any trace of understanding.

“Well, there are precious few people left to share that responsibility. I was there when it was unleashed all those years ago. I helped fight off Ketheric Thorm and his Dark Justiciars. He may have been defeated, but not before he could unleash that terrible darkness across the land.” He was careful not to go too deep into his memories, lest he drown in their sorrow.

“If I can be honest with you Halsin, I am absolutely terrified of going back.” Tav’s voice was small, her hands still tangled in wolf fur.

“As long as we’re being completely honest…” He sighed deeply. “So am I.” She looked over at him, her eyes shining with tears.

“But…we have a responsibility to those we lost – don’t you think?” His own eyes were starting to sting as well. He placed his hand over hers, causing his heart rate to quicken.

“You didn’t just come to help us find the source of the tadpoles, did you?” She saw straight through him. He longed to tell her of his time seeking favor from Silvanus, to tell her of his plan that had taken over one hundred years to come to fruition.

“I…” Their conversation was cut short by the return of their other companions.

“Hey! Did I hear Tav?” Karlach came sprinting through the doorway, letting out a yell when she saw her awake. “Oh, I’d hug you if it wouldn’t scorch your skin off.”

The others came running in after her to check as well. Tav assured everyone that she was fine, sticking her previously injured leg out from under the blanket to show them.

“Well, when you’re ready we have some updates to our tragic adventure. But on the bright side, I found lots of wine in the Zhentarim hideout.” Shadowheart had popped her head in to share.

“Z…Zhentarim?!” Tav yelled after her. “The fuck are the Zhent doing out here? Ugh someone help me up, my legs are going numb.”

Halsin stood up and offered his hand, pulling her to her feet. Karlach and Astarion immediately started giggling and ran from the room.

“Right…I’m still not wearing pants.” Tav’s blush returned.

His own face began to redden as well, realizing how it must have looked to see them sharing a blanket – Tav only in her underwear and an oversized shirt. He quickly grabbed the blanket from the floor and handed it to her to wrap around her waist.

“I’ll uh…I’ll take my leave so you can get dressed.” He ran his hand over his hair as he walked through the doorway.

“Halsin…” She called after him. He turned around and snickered a bit at the sight of her clutching the blanket around her torso.

“I’m really glad you joined us.” Her cheeks were still a little flushed, her uncombed hair was a mess with silver strands flying everywhere, her pink eyes had light bags underneath them, a big smile stretched across her face. He couldn’t recall the last time he saw something so beautiful.

To think you want her to add more clothes…

“As am I.” He gave a small nod before running after the rest of their companions.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 fanfiction #halsin x tav #halsin fanfic #halsin silverbough #bg3 brainrot #bg3 fluff #the tadfools

[unreadpoppy]

down by the river - Chapter 10

Raphael x Warlock!Tav

Read on AO3

Chapter 9

A/N: hey guys it's been forever, I know. My college classes came back and so did my internship, I'm participating in two different plays and just recently did I go back on my medication, so it has been very hard to find some time to sit down and write. This chapter is shorter because of that but I'm glad to have finally updated the story.

It was the last night before they finally attacked Moonrise Towers. 

Everyone in camp was tense, especially after the previous night’s events. Shadowheart, in her path towards becoming a Dark Justiciar, ended up turning away from Shar, and freeing the aasimar Aylin, the source of General’s Ketheric immortality. 

Minthara and Lae’zel both were sharpening their weapons, the drow more tense then the other. Karlach, Gale, Astarion, and Halsin made conversation, leaving Tav and Wyll by themselves. 

The two warlocks sat in one Last Light’s balcony, looking out at the sky. Ever since the Nightsong flew free, it seemed as if the moon shone brighter. Tav had her feet up on the table, Lihala’s lute on her hands,  while Wyll looked down, troubled. 

“You alright?” She asked. 

Wyll looked up and shook his head. “I was just thinking how one’s life can change in an instant.” He looked at her. “Karlach was just a bodyguard when suddenly, she was sold to Zariel. Lae’zel, Minthara and now Shadowheart have all but practically abandoned their gods.” Wyll looked to the sky, closing his eyes. “With a wave of a hand, Mizora turned me into this.” 

Tav nodded, choosing to remain quiet. Her fingers stroked the chords of the lute, playing a familiar tune from her childhood. 

Wyll listened closely, lost in his thoughts. Then, he shook his head. “I never heard that one before.” 

Tav smiled. “It’s an old song from my time. It’s not played as much nowadays.” 

His head tilted, confused, and raised a brow in a silent question. He chuckled “It’s just… you don’t strike me as that old, Tav.” 

She smirked. “I’ve been around much longer than you could imagine, boy.” 

“How old are we talking, then?” 

“Older than Hasin.”

Wyll frowned. 

“It’s part of my contract with Raphael.” She explained, noticing his confusion. “As long as he is around, so will I be.”

“I see.” A moment of silence passed before he spoke again. “Doesn’t that worry you? To have your life tied around a devil?”

In the time they had spent together, it wasn’t the first time that Wyll had questioned Tav’s relationship with her patron. 

Tav sighed, putting her lute down and her feet off the table, sitting closer to him. “I understand your worry. We all saw the way Mizora treated you, and I’ll be the first person to help you bring her down. It’s only reasonable you'd be wary of any of the…infernal persuasion.” She smiled kindly at him. “I appreciate your concern, I really do. It shows how much you care about others but… I know what I did when I signed that contract. And I have not regretted that decision since.” 

She leaned back on her chair, taking the lute back. Tav noticed how Wyll’s shoulders slumped and how his brown was furrowed. She wondered what she could do to try and ease his worries. 

Tav looked down at the instrument in her lap and then at her hands. As her fingers once again began to play a familiar melody, a memory came to mind. 

“Let me tell you a story.” 

…

A year had passed since Tav had signed the contract and in that time, she had yet to play her lute again. 

The ink on the contract had not even dried when she felt her hand healing, bone, skin and muscle going back in their places. She felt a relief she had never felt before, and the urge to play once again. 

And yet, whenever she picked up the lute, she faltered. Her hand would begin to shake and then freeze right on top of the strings. It had been so long since Tav had last played, that old voice of self doubt, the one who followed any new artist, was plaguing her mind again. 

‘You can’t do it, it will be terrible, you should just give up and-’

“What are you doing?” A familiar voice brought her back to reality. She turned her head and saw Raphael standing very close to her. 

Tav had decided to go to one of the many balconies in the House of Hope, away from the suffering debtors so that she could play in peace. 

“I was…going to play.” The devil nodded and then took a seat across from her, gesturing towards the instrument. 

“Go on.” He said, making himself comfortable. “Entertain me. I want to see that my fixing of your hand was for a good reason.” 

Tav gulped and her hands began to sweat out of nervousness. She took a deep breath, trying to ease her mind, but the moment her fingers touched the strings again, Tav froze. 

She was transported back to her first performance on stage. Her heart beat loudly, she swore that the audience could hear it. There was an unsteadiness to her legs, as if any wind would take her away. She remembered looking at all those people, staring at her, waiting for her to fail. She had closed her eyes before playing the chords and-

“Tav.” Raphael said sternly. “I gave you an order. You’d be wise to oblige.” 

“I know. Just-” She took a deep breath. “Give me a moment.” 

He raised a brow, leaning back on his chair. “It shouldn’t be this difficult to play, dear. You are a bard, after all.” 

‘You are a bard. You are a bard. You are a bard.’ 

The phrase echoed in her head, almost like a mantra. Her first performance, how had it ended? 

Tav remembered it. Once her fingers began to play, it was as if the music just came out of her. Playing, singing, it was as easy as breathing for her. 

‘You can do this, Tav.’ She told herself as the first notes were played, her voice following after. 

Lace your heart with mine

Let your sleeping soul take flight

Take me through the night

Down, down, down by the river…

Opening her eyes, she looked at Raphael. He had leaned back on his chair, eyes closed and a serene expression on his face. When the song abruptly came to an end, he was quick to question. 

“Apologies. I haven’t finished writing this song. Didn’t get the chance.” She explained, looking down. 

He hummed. “It’s an interesting song. Full of potential for something great. I’d like to see it finished.” Tav nodded, a smile beginning to form on her face. “Now, play something else. Something completed this time.” He leaned again and closed his eyes, just as she began again. 

…

Back to the present, Tav looked at Wyll, reassuring him one last time. “Raphael is not perfect, not by any means. He is a devil, after all.” Wyll huffed at that and she reached forwards, putting a hand on his arm. “But he gave me back the gift of music. He gave me my life. You do not need to worry about me.” 

Tav stood up and left.

…

Ketheric Thorm was dead. 

And with his death, new life was breathed into the shadow cursed lands, the first in a century. Tav smiled as the sun shone on her face, a glowing tree sprouting on where once was nothing. The land would heal. 

The attack on Moonrise Towers had also brought new revelations. The truth about the Absolute had unfolded in front of them. The chosen of the dead three - Orin, Gortash and Ketheric - were in control of an elder brain, and had a planned attack towards Baldur’s Gate, which would have happened if the Apostle of Myrkul hadn’t been brought down. 

With one nether stones in hand, the party had two new targets to strike before they could be rid of the tadpoles for once and all. 

Tav’s mind wandered towards Raphael. Before her infection, her patron had sent her on a mission: Discover what Enver Gortash, the boy who had escaped Raphael’s claws, was up to. She hadn’t understood then what he meant but now, the picture was clearer and many questions had arised. 

Tav had a distinct feeling that very soon she would get her answers. 

#raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael the cambion #tav #warlock!tav #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #my writing

[lonelyskeletonflower]

Scar-crossed Lovers

my very first serious fanfiction, in English nonetheless lol. I wrote this last night after uni fueled by the power of hyperfixations (FOB's music) and the fact that I miss playing BG3 (I'm stuck + no time to play because of uni)

1,5k; spoilers for the end of the game. transmasc tav (they/them). based on FOB lyrics. hurt no comfort (okay a bit of comfort)

It was a rare, calm night, after a long, tiring day. The sky was clear, and the moon was big and comforting. The stars seem to shine brighter, lately, Astarion thought, as he lowered his gaze to look at the big wolf getting chased by Scratch around the camp. The big wolf, his druid boyfriend. He allowed a soft smile to form on his lips, knowing that the other companions were busy, except for Karlach, who was watching the wolf and the dog play with a delighted expression. Her presence next to him definitely wasn’t the reason why he felt so warm inside, despite his condition. No, that warmth in his chest and the exceptional brightness of the stars those nights were caused by his blooming feelings for Kieran, who had just sat next to him, panting, still in wolf form.

“Are you done playing for tonight, darling?” he asked, stretching his hand out to pet the wolf’s fluffy head. Kieran replied with a sweet canine smile, wagging their tail.

Sweet. Yes. Kieran was, indeed, quite sweet. And not just that; they were many things. Brave, for instance, always ready to face any danger on their path, and fierce in battle, and strong, and attractive, and compassionate, smart, sensitive, loyal, caring, good. Astarion hated how much of a good person they were, it was almost nauseating, at least when they first met. He knew people had taken advantage of their goodness their entire life, Kieran had told him about it with a pained smile on their pretty face, and yet the druid never really strayed from being good, from the desire to do good, to help people, even when they didn’t deserve it. That didn’t mean, though, that being used like that didn’t leave any emotional scars on their soft soul, and that was what made them strong. He hated and loved that at the same time. He loved Kieran, as reluctant as he was to admit it, even to himself. He’d never expected that, in the process of getting the druid to fall for him and win their protection, he would catch feelings for them, but there he was, in love with someone so infuriatingly good at heart.

He wasn’t the only one, of course, who felt something for the redhead. Kieran was so lovable and loving, they’d been with Karlach, and Wyll, and even Lae’zel couldn’t resist them, and he saw the way Shadowheart looked at them; Halsin, too, had let them know that they could drop by his tent anytime, and not just to talk about the Oak Father and other druid things. Nevertheless, Kieran longed for him. Astarion. The kind-hearted hero wanted to give their love to him, who was no hero and definitely not much of a good person. The fact that he refused to share them with anybody else, someone good like them, was certainly proof of his selfishness.

He petted the wolf some more, then wished Karlach good night and got up to go to his tent, followed by the wolf. They snuggled up together in Astarion’s bedroll.

“Could you stay like this, tonight?” asked Astarion. Kieran answered by wagging their tail.

It was much easier to be alone with his thoughts at night without seeing that sweet face in the dark. Even in the dark their goodness made them glow, a light as painful as the sun before the tadpole. But could he really live without light again?

“Dream sweet of me” he whispered, gently scratching the wolf between the ears. Kieran licked his cheek. Soon enough, they were softly snoring.

Astarion sighed. At first, he had thought they only desired his body, they were infatuated with that handsome face (he didn’t need to see his reflection to know that, because nothing could change his beauty… right?), just like his victims; but Kieran had shown him that they genuinely loved him for him, handsome face and nice body and perfect hair and scars and selfishness and dark past and being a vampire and- they loved everything about him, good and bad. They believed in his goodness, although he doubted there was any left in him, after everything Cazador had put him through.

He kept going back to that first night with the druid, after the party, how they went straight to his tent instead of spending the night with Karlach, or Lae’zel, or Halsin, and how they kept coming back, how they kept choosing him over everybody else. Kieran was pretty messed up, too, to love someone like him, even after knowing Astarion’s plan to seduce them so they would protect him. How did they manage to remain a sunbeam, since they were so messed up? That was a mystery. But it was only fair that two messed up people had ended up together. Maybe they deserved each other.

Maybe, he thought, cautiously, I could get used to this. To their love.

He pressed a kiss against his boyfriend’s head and buried his hands in their fur. Having Kieran sleep in his tent, whether in an animal form or in human form, made him feel safe. An unfamiliar feeling, but not an unpleasant one.

Yeah, I could really get used to this.

It was over. Cazador was dead. He had ascended. He was free. Free! He didn’t have to hide any longer. He didn’t have to live in fear anymore. He had power and everything he wanted – everything but one thing. The only thing that motivated him to find Cazador again and kill him: Kieran.

After Astarion had completed the ritual, he thought everything would be perfect: control, power, love, and no more fear. But Kieran had left him, saying that they thought they were more than a pet to Astarion. And they were so much more than a pet to him, they were the reason he finally felt alive after two hundred years. Weren’t they supposed to be aeterna amantes? And yet he couldn’t stop them from leaving.

He could live in the light again, forever, yet he preferred the darkness. There was no point in being in the light without his light. His sunbeam.

And suddenly, there they were. Kieran was there, right in front of him, in their human form. Astarion wanted to run to them, hug them, kiss every single one of their freckles, greet them with “hello, my sweet”. Instead, he waited for them to say something.

“Astarion” they said. Their eyes were filled with sadness. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah” he agreed. I miss you, he wanted to say. “What brings you here?”

Kieran opened their mouth to say something, then changed their mind and closed it again, only to clear their throat and finally speak.

“I wanted to talk.”

“Talk” Astarion smirked. “What about? Regretting your decision?”

The druid tortured their bottom lip with their teeth for a moment.

“I don’t regret it, seeing how you are now. Who you are” they replied, locking eyes with their former lover.

“I’ve always been like this. This is who I’ve always been. And you knew it.”

Kieran shook their head, red hair gently falling on their face.

“You’re not the person I knew. You’re not the man I fell in love with anymore” they said, calmly wiping away a solitary tear that rolled down their cheek. Astarion felt incredibly angry and incredibly sad at the same time.

“I don’t think he ever existed” he retorted, flatly. “You just wanted to see something that wasn’t there.”

The hero of Baldur’s Gate looked extremely dejected.

“I guess you’re right. I never learn my lesson, uh? I’m sorry.”

Astarion looked away, uncomfortable.

“I still think that hiding somewhere behind this image you’ve created for yourself there’s the Astarion I love” Kieran added, slowly. “I love you. I cannot be with you, but I do love you. And I’m yours ‘til the earth starts to crumble.”

The vampire laughed bitterly, choking on tears that he refused to cry.

“We’re scar-crossed lovers, forever” he said. “These scars we bear will always keep us apart, no matter how used to them we get.”

Kieran took one step closer. Astarion did too. Their lips met one last time. Their faces were wet.

“I thought you believed in having control over your life” whispered the druid, but they didn’t mean it. They knew their relationship was doomed.

“I thought you believed anything can be healed or fixed” whispered back Astarion, and he found himself meaning it.

“What happened to ‘scar-crossed lovers, forever’?”

“What happened to aeterna amantes?” Astarion smiled weakly, gently wiping away Kieran’s tears. “I’m struggling to exist with you… and without you, darling.”

It was the redhead’s time to laugh with desperation and a tiny bit of hope.

“Is this our fate? A relationship that will never work, but a love that will always bring us back to one another?” they asked, looking for Astarion’s eyes. In the darkness of the place, they glowed with love… and a tiny bit of hope.

“Oh, my sweet.”

They embraced each other, feeling finally safe and at home again, as the dawn of a new day brought a few soft rays of sun onto them.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion x tav #the pale elf #shadowheart #lae'zel #karlach #wyll ravengard #bg3 #bg3 tav #fanfiction #my writing #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #halsin #halsin bg3 #tavstarion #scratch bg3 #fall out boy #fob lyrics

[xalygatorx]

Unbound | Chapter 11, "Old Scars"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: Astarion tries to make sense of his feelings following his tryst with Áine. When Áine wakes, she sees an alarming scar pattern on Astarion’s back, bringing up questions about his past. The group recovers from the party over breakfast and receives their next steps from Halsin, which unearth something buried for Áine. A monster hunter passes by the camp and alerts them to a rogue vampire spawn in the area.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Suggestive content & dialogue; trauma; angst; description of a panic attack; lightly proofread; struggled through the last half of this one a little bit; author note at the end

Word Count: 8.3k

Listening to: Dead Man - David Kushner, I’ve also had White Winter Hymnal on a literal loop for like three days bc vibes (and also I have a cute little recurring vision of Áine dancing to the melody at the tiefling party with Alfira)

Astarion found no rest that night, his mind far too full and his stomach far too twisted. What he did do was ensure that Áine was too exhausted by the end of their tryst to stay awake, lest she be coherent and, ever observant, start asking the right questions. He was unsettled by the idea of entering a reverie of any depth while knowing someone else was this close by. It was a vulnerable state for him to enter and he’d had enough of vulnerability despite seeming unable to avoid it when it came to being with her.

Instead, he’d eased her spent, supple body down to the grass and waited with something akin to apprehension until she’d fallen asleep. Astarion had run his hands over his face, exhaled against his hands, and risen to retrieve his clothes. Everything save his shirt went back on and he could admit that he felt a little less anxious now that he was no longer naked below the waist. He was a mix of residual feelings that had nothing whatsoever to do with that night in isolation and new inclinations that had everything to do with that night. 

He sat back down in the grass near where Áine was curled on her side, maintaining his distance yet still close enough to feel her gentle heat radiating from her skin. Even he couldn’t believe his excuses anymore. Astarion bridged his fingers, resting his chin against them while his elbows found purchase on his crisscrossed legs. He closed his eyes, venturing into a territory that frightened him by delving into his memory to search for answers to a question he needn’t even ask. 

Astarion thought back through the last couple of hours, but particularly to the first “round,” so to speak, and he forced himself to start admitting some things internally if only to make sense of what their situation had become. The first thing he needed to admit was that his physical reactions to her were based on how he felt about her. He could hem them in with effort, but when their night of passion first escalated, he hadn’t been ready in the slightest for how hard it would hit him to finally be with her. 

Taking her blood while they were fucking had also been utterly intoxicating and something he, of course, had never experienced before her. His troubled thoughts tried to latch onto that to serve as sufficient reasoning for everything he was contending with, but he swatted that compulsion away. He didn’t have to explain himself to anyone, but for his own peace of mind, he had to get to the bottom of this. 

Astarion rolled his shoulders, his jaw setting at the tension he felt in them. He supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him that he’d react this way to realizing he was growing attached to someone. The last time he’d been too sentimental to bring a target back to Cazador, he’d spent a year entombed, starving, and alone, as punishment. He’d raked his nails raw against the underside of the casket, desperate to carve his way out, until it became clear that he’d stay there as long as his sire desired. Then it was all a waiting game. Waiting to give up. Waiting to be released from the crypt and put back into service, free-roaming but never free. Waiting to die. Knowing all the while that he’d never have such an easy escape from this life as to die before his master wished it.      

Somber crimson eyes opened slowly, prematurely cast downward toward the sleeping beauty in front of him. She was, of course, not that sweet boy from all those years ago. Astarion had always wondered what had happened to him in the end. If because of his sacrifice, that man went on to live a full, wonderful life or if in the end one of his siblings had done what he’d not had it in him to do. Despite how hardened he’d become to everyone but himself in this wretched world since then, he still hoped the former. Then perhaps the pieces chipped from his sanity during that horrible, horrible year would amount to something.

That at least accounted for why he felt so afraid. He wasn’t afraid of her. In fact, she might have been the only person in this world he didn’t fear in any capacity. Astarion’s mind wandered back to when he’d taken her hands off his waistband and moved them to his shoulders, how she’d kept them there without question despite not knowing in full what he’d been through. And he’d trusted her to, also without question. That may have been the most unnerving part of all.

Astarion went rigid when Áine stirred, but she simply stretched a little and rolled over to her other side, curling back up but facing him this time. It suddenly crossed his mind that she might be cold, but as far as his icy body could tell, it was a balmy summer night. He supposed he had found her in this position when he’d trespassed on her tent the night she’d first let him drink from her, so perhaps this was just how she slept. He’d yet to truly get used to sleeping on the ground, but she seemed comfortable enough.

In her sleep, Áine set a hand on the grass beside her as if searching for him. He recanted the thought, considering that perhaps that was wishful thinking on his part. Astarion contemplated her hand—he knew its touch well after their coupling. How her fingers felt in his hair—a touch he’d nearly ducked from until he realized what she was doing wasn’t to inflict pain and, Hells, instead it had felt delicious—and how just one of his hands could hold both of her slender wrists (and pin them above her head). He knew where on her fingers playing her lute was giving her callouses and how the pad of her thumb felt when it brushed against his hand, against his jawline while the pinpoints of her fingertips dotted his cheek like the smallest constellation.

Should he let her find him? He was tempted. However something akin to panic lashed through him again and he looked away from her outstretched hand, his eyes instead finding the slowly lightening sky. Astarion rose when the sun finally poured down into their clearing, drawn like a moth to a flame. Under normal vampiric circumstances, that would’ve been an accurate analogy, but at least for the time being, he had a free pass to feel the sunshine on his skin again. He stepped into its rays, not without some habitual trepidation still, but sighed contently when it warmed him, his eyes fluttering closed. 

There was so much warmth, so much color, in this world he’d never noticed before being deprived of it for so long. He craved power, he craved vengeance, but he craved these small things, too. These simple, quiet moments when it was as if only he existed. And now, he supposed, that extended to Áine too.

Behind him, awakened by the same morning light, Áine drew a deep breath and opened her eyes. She was initially disoriented to find grass around and under her instead of the nest of pillows that she’d accumulated in her tent. And then, after remembering why she was out there in the first place and noting the empty clutch of green grass her hand rested on, Áine found herself confused about where her lover had gone. She only had a few seconds to wonder if he’d just left her out there when she raised her head and followed a familiar elongated shadow toward its equally familiar source.

Áine couldn’t help but smile. Sometimes she couldn’t look at him and not see a cat curling up in the afternoon sunshine. That was the sort of life he deserved. That was the sort of life they all deserved after everything they’d been through. 

“You’re staring again, darling.”

Discovered, Áine startled but felt unabashed. He was standing there practically glistening, what was she supposed to do but respectfully gawk? She ignored his statement and asked instead, “Not staying for a cuddle, I take it?”

Astarion didn’t turn to look at her but remained with his face and palms skyward as if he could absorb the sun’s fire. “In truth, I thought you’d be exhausted after last night,” he said.

Áine blushed, a sleepy smile touching her lips as their post-party activities resurfaced in her mind. Also swift to cross her mind were the moments she could’ve sworn, even in the darkness, that she’d seen sadness cross his features. At times, even something akin to distress. Every instance had been gone in a flash but stuck firmly in her memory all the same. 

Pursing her lips, she felt as if she simply had to ask, even if she was wrong. “You…seemed a little distant at times. Like you weren’t fully there,” she said hesitantly, a tilt to her head as she studied his profile. “Are you alright?”    

Astarion was glad he was facing away from her—he felt the mask over his true emotions fissure at the question. “Of course. Who wouldn’t be after a night like that?” he purred, turning his head just enough to offer her a debonair and yet still fiendish smile. “I will admit I was holding back a little… I didn’t want to lose control.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. “Delicious as you were, I didn’t want to go too far.”

She wasn’t sure she believed him, but she had no reason not to, she supposed. Absently, Áine touched her neck, her fingertips finding the small indents his fangs had left behind. “Mm, well I guess I should thank you for leaving me some blood then.”

Astarion chuckled darkly. “I discovered several new delicious spots on your body last night, my sweet,” he said, “but I do admit your neck is still one of my favorites. Second only to your—”

“Okay, okay,” Áine interrupted quickly, her hands finding her flaming face but doing nothing to hide the way her blushing darkened the tips of her ears.

Astarion crumbled a little internally, finding her shyness as endearing as ever, especially now knowing how devilish she could be between the proverbial sheets. He smirked and asked, “Shall we get on? I want to go before anyone else thanks me for saving their tails.”

“Gods forbid a show of gratitude,” Áine commented with feigned scandal. “What would that do to your reputation?”

“Exactly, my dear! So glad you understand.”

Áine smiled to herself and shook her head as she got to her feet, brushing herself off. The change in perspective also shifted the way her eyes caught the light and they adjusted accordingly just as she returned her eyes to Astarion’s back…

…By the gods, what had happened to him?

Her lips parted in shock and her eyes narrowed as she tried to discern what the markings she could now see were. She’d thought for just a second that perhaps they were a sort of tattoo or even a brand, but they were very much scars. Purposeful, deeply rooted scars.

“Once again, she stares,” Astarion commented and Áine flushed with chagrin this time, immediately turning her eyes to the grass. She knew better than anyone with her own old injuries that sometimes the worst ghost pains were people asking questions about them that they shouldn’t. There was a beat of pause before Astarion seemed to realize her dilemma. He sighed and said, “You can ask, you know. I’m not exactly hiding them at the moment.”

Áine swallowed thickly and chanced a glance up at him as she gathered her clothes from the ground. “You needn’t tell me anything you don’t want to, but… What exactly are they?” she asked, donning her smallclothes and then pulling her trousers on after. 

Astarion sighed, deciding that speaking on this now couldn’t hurt. There was never a “correct” time to surface this sort of thing. “It’s a poem,” he told her honestly. “A gift from Cazador. He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas.” He paused heavily, listening to the rustle of Áine’s clothes as she got dressed to help him ground his thoughts and evade the memories that threatened to sweep him back into those moldering kennels. “He…composed and carved that one over the course of a night… He made a lot of revisions as he went.”

The pain in his voice alone broke her heart in two. She wondered if his expression was as honest in this moment, if that was why he hadn’t turned around to look at her. “I’m sorry.”

Astarion’s brow pinched and he did turn to look at her then, finding her at arm’s length and as tempting as ever, standing there with her shirt on but still untied and her hair a glimmering tousled mess atop her lovely skull. His hands flexed against his sides as he resisted snatching her back up. It was a maddening feeling, to want her so much and be fearful of wanting her at all. “What for? You really must stop apologizing for things you had no hand in,” he said.

“I understand,” she said, beginning to try and work the tangles from her hair while they stood there conversing. When Áine’s eyes met his again, they shone with sunlight and her sincerity. “And I understand that it fixes nothing. But I… I hate what you’ve endured.” Áine pursed her lips. “And I wish I could do something better than tell you that I’m sorry for it.”

And you don’t know the half of it, Astarion thought, his brows knitting as he tried to decide how her sympathy made him feel. It was a complicated mess of irritation and appreciation that felt more knotted than her tresses. “Yes, well,” he said uncomfortably. “You’re right. It fixes nothing.” Áine internalized her embarrassment and the hurt that lanced through her, instead just nodding acknowledgment. This wasn’t about her, after all. Far be it from her to get upset that her words didn’t magically repair everything. “Anything else?”

Áine shrugged and gave up on her tangles, instead pulling her hair over one shoulder to make a manageable side ponytail to deal with the mess later. “Why is the poem in Infernal?”  

That, Astarion hadn’t been ready for. “Infernal? I… Who knows? The bastard was insane,” he said, quickly dismissing the question. “Anyway, enough pillow talk. Let’s go before the tieflings drag us into another mess.”

Áine watched him fetch his shirt before returning her attention to containing her pearly locks, feeling as though she’d thoroughly killed the morning mood. It wasn’t something she wasn’t used to doing, usually unintentionally, but as with everything so far her feelings around things to do with him proved more intense. That included the disappointment in herself at likely guaranteeing he wouldn’t be pursuing something like this with her again. 

Oh well, she sighed inwardly, but the casual nature of her thought didn’t mirror how she actually felt. Familiar and dismal, she wondered again why she was the way that she was. It really did seem to cause her nothing but grief when it came to these sorts of things. She supposed she just hoped he’d had a nice time up until their chat, that he’d gotten the bit of “fun” he’d been pining for out of it.

Áine finished knotting the leather tie around her hair and moved to the ties of her shirt next, only to find that Astarion had, at some point, moved to stand in front of her. Her hands paused against the strings and she looked up at him with a question in her eyes. He gave her a long, unreadable look, and she half-expected him to tell her they were better off keeping this as a one-night thing or scold her again for unhelpfully offering apologies or something to that effect. There was something beneath the surface of his expression that she just couldn’t quite see. 

Instead of any of those things, Astarion held eye contact with her as he replaced her hands at her shirt ties, lacing her back up. Áine stared back, feeling her face grow a little warm again. Would she ever get used to things like this from him? She had to imagine so, but every little touch from him felt like a gift. Especially given how touch-averse he seemed to be at times, each gesture felt intentional. 

With deft fingers, he finished tying her laces, polishing off his work with a small bow. Áine smirked and started to thank him, but he hooked a finger beneath the knot he’d made and tugged her into a kiss that smothered her words of gratitude before they left her mouth. Her hands reflexively rose from her sides to hold him, even just to rest against his arms, but he gracefully dodged her touch, looking smug when their eyes met again. At least she figured this meant he wasn’t too upset with what he saw as her excess sentimentality.

Offhand as he led the way back to camp, he innocently mused, “I wonder if anyone managed to get a wink of sleep last night despite your mewling…”

“You’re pushing your luck for this sort of thing ever happening a second time,” Áine informed him as she walked alongside him through the woods, toying with her hands to stifle her urge to try holding one of his or putting her arm around his waist despite his teasing. 

She was discovering that she was quite tactile in the way of affection once she had an emotional stake in a person and it was difficult to contend with that discovery while not being able to dote on her person of interest. Respecting him and his space was easy. Resisting the inclination to show him he was cared for with little touches here and there was proving trickier.    

“Am I?” Astarion wondered with clear doubt. “Pity. It’s swiftly becoming my favorite way to pass the dark hours. And you needn’t tell me so for me to know it’s just as appealing to you.” He’d leaned in toward her ear to whisper those last words and his cool breath against her sensitive skin sent a shiver through her that proved his point.

Áine glowered at him as he leaned away, looking mighty pleased with himself. “You know, that feels a little unfair,” she finally decided to point out, ever the one to be bold enough to bring up a hard topic. Even in an area she was very unfamiliar with it seemed.

Astarion glanced down at her. “Hm? What does?”

“That you’re able to enter my personal space on a whim, but I’m not—to my knowledge—allowed to do anything categorically similar,” she explained. “To be clear, I’m fine with you doing what you’ve been doing. And I’m also fine with whatever you’re comfortable or uncomfortable with for yourself. But some ground rules would be nice, I think.”

“You want ‘ground rules’?” Astarion repeated, bewildered as he tried to follow what she was saying. Was she asking his permission for something? To touch him? New things left, right, and center, he mused.

“Well…yes,” she said, becoming self-conscious but holding her ground. “I have inclinations but I’m too anxious to do anything because I’m worried about upsetting you.”

He looked at her consideringly, his lips becoming a thin line. “And what are your ‘inclinations’, my dear?” he asked in a measured tone. 

A not-distant-enough memory began nagging at the back of his mind. Of being grabbed and squeezed and fondled in all the ways and at all the times he didn’t want to be. Which, in fairness, he’d never wanted to be. It was a process, a means to an end. But the thought of her touch wasn’t an unpleasant prospect nor a necessary evil. He was no less apprehensive though—what if she surprised him in a bad way? What if she regarded him as some sort of plaything? 

Well, he could run what-ifs all day, but his mind had one consistent answer to all of those questions—he didn’t think she would.  

Áine met his thoughtful gaze with one of her own before she offered him one of her hands, palm facing up. He looked at it and then at her, not sure what she wanted him to do. When she recognized his hesitation as confusion, she instead reached out and gently took his hand, locking their fingers together after minimal fumbling. 

Astarion stared at their hands and waited for her to do something more—pin his arm back and use his defenseless position to grope him or use her grip to cause him enough pain to put him on his knees and there begin to make her threats and demands, all things that had happened to him before just without this much exposition. 

When she didn’t do anything else, he gave her a funny look that she took to mean he wasn’t a hand-holder by nature. Áine gave him an embarrassed smile and started to unthread her hand from his. “Silly things, I suppose, it’s fine if you—”

Áine quieted as Astarion followed the hand she’d attempted to extract, recapturing it and keeping it firmly in his. He craved her warm touch, her closeness as much as ever and she was simply allowing him some of that now with no strings attached. It was something he was aware of—he’d of course seen plenty of lovers in the city holding hands or linking arms and the like—but that had never been something meant for him. 

With as much hesitation as she’d yet seen him speak, Astarion studied their hands, unable to meet her eyes, and said, “...If you’re the one touching me, I don’t… I don’t think I’ll mind as much.”

A faint crease formed between her brows at hearing the vulnerable nature of this confession. Was he a master seducer who had never been shown affection? Or was something worse the cause of his anxiety? 

Slowly, Áine nodded and smoothed the pad of her thumb against his, something he’d remembered her doing the night before that he’d enjoyed in the moment. And she was just giving this to him again for free? He waited for the catch, but nothing came. Instead, she just said, “If it’s ever wrong or too much, you can tell me. In fact, I insist you do. And I’ll do the same. Fair enough?”

Astarion wasn’t entirely sure he believed that she wouldn’t be upset at all if he spurned her affections, but he was at least able to look at her this time as he nodded. “Alright,” he said.

Áine offered him a smile. “Thank you,” she said, and they kept walking like that, hand-in-hand. 

It was a strange sensation to Astarion—to Áine too but for vastly different reasons—and he kept occasionally tensing for the situation to flip. And it just didn’t. He just got to hold a little piece of her while they walked the rest of the way to camp, the little rhythm of her pulse occasionally tip-tapping against his silent wrist. They would occasionally readjust their fingers or he’d find Áine gently toying with his hand while her skin warmed his, but that was as far as the gesture went. And it felt…nice. Like they were part of something that was just them while still being allowed their own identities, their own freedoms. He could—with a surprising measure of confidence that she wouldn’t lash out at him or even bat an eye—let go right now if he wanted to.

And, by every single god he no longer believed in, he didn’t want to.

While everyone had still been passed out from the party the night before when Astarion and Áine finally made it back to the campsite and snuck back into their tents for a little extra rest before it was time to move out. It wasn’t near enough rest though before Áine was awakened by the sound of the refugees packing back up to make their way to Baldur’s Gate and she started to hear her own travel companions beginning to rouse and sort breakfast. 

The promise of food was what convinced her to leave her tent and join the others near the extinguished campfire, which she set to relighting while Gale sorted through their foodstuffs for anything worthy of a hangover. He greeted her when she sat down and took up the flint rock, and Áine didn’t notice the way his eyes fell to her neck and then darted away. 

“Did you enjoy the rest of your night?” he asked pleasantly enough, any poison in his words slow-acting in their sting.

“I did,” Áine said, managing not to blush and feeling invincible for it. “Did you?”

“Ended up tucked in for the night by the wine, but I’m no stranger to that, I suppose,” he chuckled. “We spent many a night back in Waterdeep with a dusty tome and a good vintage.”

“You and Mystra?” she asked in surprise. She wouldn’t have pegged a goddess for the “spending a night in” sort.

“Oh, no,” Gale chuckled. “Me and Tara. My assistant and my best friend. She’s a tressym.”

Áine’s eyes lit up. She’d never seen a tressym before in person but she’d seen illustrations of their likeness before. Astarion stepped out of his tent then and spotted the look on her face, nearly turning around and going back inside when he saw it was being gifted to Gale. “Is she back in Waterdeep then?” Áine asked, oblivious to her vampire’s plight.

“Yes, and better for it, I’d reckon,” Gale said emphatically as he started cooking some eggs and sausage. “I could never ask her to make this journey. She’s safer there.”

Áine nodded, feeling a wet nose bonk her arm and turning to see Scratch presenting her with his ball and a wagging tail. She wrestled the toy away from him and threw it across the camp, turning her attention back to Gale when the pup gave chase. “Then I’m glad she’s safe. You sound like you care a great deal for her,” she said.

“Very much,” Gale agreed. “She was the only one who stood by me after my condition began and worsened. Once we sorted out that magical artifacts seemed to help ease its intensity somewhat and I’d worked through the majority of powerful objects I’d collected in my tower over the years, she immediately went in search of whatever she could find.” His eyes softened in reflection. “I owe her a great deal and she’d scold me for saying so. You actually remind me of her, you know.”

Áine smirked, throwing Scratch’s ball again when he brought it back to her, wiping a bit of drool onto her pants. “Well, I’m flattered. She sounds brilliant.”

“You should come visit us in Waterdeep once this is all over,” he suggested. “Plenty of room. She’d likely adore the chance to play hostess as well.”

“Sounds delightful,” Astarion commented as he sat down next to Áine. “We’ll be there.”

“Great!” Gale said, thrilled at the prospect of company, it seemed. It wasn’t the reaction Astarion had expected to get and he almost felt bad for interrupting now. Almost. 

He looked over at Áine, knowing already what he’d find—eyes alight with amusement and a silent accusation of being jealous. Astarion found precisely that and sniffed dismissively in her direction while she stifled a laugh.  

“How are you faring this morning, Astarion?” Gale asked suddenly, plating some breakfast and handing it to Áine. “I thought I spotted you partaking in the wine at some point, unless that was blood I mistook for a red blend.”

“Technically both are red blends,” Astarion commented. “It was wine though—blood would’ve been preferable.”

“Can you taste wine properly then?” Gale asked as he sat down and started to eat as well. Their friends were slowly following the smell of cooked sausage out to the fire, each looking worse for wear than the last. “We’ve discussed food, so I figured wine may be a similar issue.”

Astarion sighed dismally. “Wine is a lost cause, too, I’m afraid. I’ve just yet to find it in myself to admit it for good. And I just have to try because what if this blend is different than that one or whathaveyou…,” he said.

“It’s too bad the tadpole couldn’t have lent you that back as well,” Áine mused. She cast a glance around the group now gathered around the fire and taking the breakfast Gale had made like medicine, but far more delicious. “Where’s Wyll? And Halsin?”

“Wyll ended up drinking with the best of them late last night,” Shadowheart said, looking a bit disheveled but smug at the prospect of someone ending up worse for wear than she had. “Even without the extra vintage,” she added quietly to Áine, who elbowed her arm. “I haven’t seen Halsin though.”

“He was packing up last I saw,” Karlach supplied through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. 

“Well, shit,” Áine muttered as she set her plate down and stood up. He owed her some answers before he managed to get away again. Thankfully she didn’t have too far to go—he was just walking across the camp and she was able to head him off not too far from the rest of the party. “Halsin! Were you just going to leave?”

“Only temporarily,” Halsin said. “I must square a few things away at the Grove before I join you on your journey.”

“Can you at least tell us where we need to go next?” Shadowheart asked from where she was seated nearby and Áine silently thanked her for being another voice asking for the information he’d promised them. She was starting to feel like she was badgering him, but she certainly wasn’t above doing so if it meant helping herself and her friends.

Halsin looked a little sheepish as he said, “Of course… But the journey will not be an easy one regardless of the path we take—there are routes leading through the mountain pass near here or alternatively via the Underdark. There were whispers of an entryway down into its depths under the Selunite temple where the goblins were taking up residence.”

“Was that why you went with Aradin and his crew?” Áine asked. “To try and find the Underdark route?”

“Precisely,” Halsin said. “Of the two routes, the Underdark will likely be the less treacherous to take, but it is ultimately up to you to choose your path.”

“The teeth…tiefling Zorru spoke of my people in proximity to the mountain pass,” Lae’zel interjected, giving Áine a meaningful look. “It is imperative that we seek their crèche. That we seek purification.”

“Where are these paths meant to converge exactly?” Áine asked, absently fiddling with the little bow at her shirt laces Astarion had left. “Maybe that can help us decide where we go from here. Or at least in what order maybe.” She’d added the last bit to appease Lae’zel, not wanting her to feel as though she wasn’t being heard.

And then Halsin said two words that Áine had hoped never to hear again.

“Moonrise Towers,” the druid answered. 

He’d singlehandedly turned her blood to ice and hadn’t the slightest clue. She wasn’t going to let him see it. Her face remained stoic, her arms still crossed over her chest while her fingertips toyed with one loop of the bow at her collar. The string was becoming akin to a worry stone, a touchpoint for grounding. 

Inside she was screaming. And not one person noticed the change apart from the vampire who could hear the way her heart skipped a beat and then began to thunder against her ribs.

Astarion heard the disturbance in her chest from where he still sat near the fire and he tried to read her expression from what little of her profile he could see, but she was as good as he was when it came to internalizing her feelings, it seemed. So much so that he started to second-guess himself, wondering if maybe she’d been startled by something he hadn’t seen or something to that effect. Astarion listened to her breathing, even and normal until he heard the faintest shudder on an inhale that he placed instantly. It was the same as when an intrusive thought or a familiar sight triggered memories for him and sent him spiraling, but he had to hold his composure.

Meanwhile, the blood roaring in Áine’s ears nearly prevented her from hearing what Halsin was saying, but she caught the gist of it all. The cultists were gathering at Moonrise and if anywhere held the secrets of their parasites’ origin, it would be there. “Then when can we expect you back from the Grove?” Áine asked. “Should we wait, would you rather catch up with us…?”

Astarion listened to her voice, not a tremble in her tone. It was like when he’d seen her pause her pitch-perfect singing the other night and turn around with tears still streaking down her face. It was no wonder she seemed so finely tuned to call him out on his masking—she did it, too.

“It will only take a half-day to do what I must do there,” Halsin reassured her. “Tying up loose ends and all that. I can return this very night.”

Áine nodded. “Great, we’ll wait for you here then,” she declared. “Thank you.”

“I can only hope that this gets you the answers you need, my friend,” Halsin said and, despite Áine’s momentary suspicions of his reasons for withholding information, she could see the genuine affection and concern in his eyes. That was more than enough for her in these far too-interesting times.

“Only one way to find out,” she said, waving as he headed out of the camp to consult with the druids back at the grove. The tieflings had gone before they’d even had breakfast prepared, so it was just their usual crew left in the camp now. 

Áine’s heart still hammered in her chest and she felt her hands begin to shake where she’d stuffed them under her arms. A high-pitched yelp from near her feet startled her, but she looked down and found only Scratch standing there, his ball placed before her on the dirt. She managed a weak smile and snatched up his ball, winging it across the clearing before she realized she needed to make herself scarce lest she have a panic attack out of seemingly nowhere in front of the very people who expected her to lead them.

It was an opportune time for her that a very hungover Wyll chose that moment to stumble out of his tent into the glaring sunlight and a loud “wahey!” of jeering applause from their friends. Áine was able to slip away, back into her tent, and she nearly collapsed inside the moment she did. 

Her knees hit one of the throw pillows when she went down, her face buried in her hands while her nails bit into her tender temples. Áine bit down the violent urge to scream, clamping her palms against her mouth when she started to lose that battle and managing to contain it to a low whine instead. Godsforsaken fucking Moonrise, she repeated in her mind, screwing her eyes shut and feeling them burn as hot as her chest. Would she never escape that horrible place and the sickly shadows surrounding it? The onset of ceremorphosis felt like a better option.

Áine drew in breath after shuddering breath, each more deeply and slowly than the last as she tried to calm herself down before someone came looking for her. Speak of the devil, she heard footsteps approaching and then someone cleared their throat just outside. 

Just go away, she prayed desperately, biting her trembling lower lip.

“Áine?” Astarion inquired, sounding the faintest bit hesitant. Gods, why did it have to be him? And why did her name have to sound so good from his lips? It just made her want to curl up in his lap until she felt better and she couldn’t think of anything worse to put him through than for her to ask for his emotional support.

She swallowed hard and asked in response, “Yes?”

He paused at length. “May I come in?” he asked at last. 

Please. 

Áine could tell he sensed something was wrong, which unnerved her, so she tried to reply in a way that felt like normal banter. “I thought you didn’t need permission to enter homes anymore,” she said.

Astarion wasn’t buying it, it seemed. “I don’t, darling. Still, may I?”

The bard sat stone-still for a long moment until she finally said, “...I think I need a few minutes to myself. Can we talk after?” He couldn’t see her like this. She didn’t want anyone to, but especially not him. 

There was a beat of silence from the other side of the canvas before she heard him say, “Of course,” punctuated by his receding footsteps. When those steps faded into the background sounds she heard from the others still near the fire, Áine’s shoulders slackened and she smoothed her ponytail with nervous hands. 

Moonrise Towers. Could she return and not lose everything she’d scrapped and pieced together of herself since the dawn she left? Did he still live? Did they all still live? 

Would she live through it a second time?

For reasons he still fruitlessly tried to deny, it had hurt him when she’d turned him away. He even understood quite well, he thought, what she was experiencing. Would he have been in her place, he would have turned her away too, and likely with less grace. And it still ate at him that he hadn’t been permitted to check on her.

For what? He knew she was safe, uninjured, and simply taking a rest in her tent. The mood of the camp was calm and unbothered. He, by all accounts, should have taken the free time just to settle in at his tent and parse through one of the books he’d snatched up from the temple ruins between rounds with the goblin cultists. Yet there he was, wearing a rut in the dirt near his tent while he waited to see or hear any signs of Áine stepping back outside.

Astarion wasn’t entirely sure how long she’d been sequestered in her tent, but it had been longer than a few minutes. He’d seen Shadowheart wander over to her tent door as well only to be turned away as he had. When the cleric had looked his way, first suspiciously and then imploringly, Astarion had simply shrugged in reply. He hated not knowing.

It had to have something to do with Moonrise Towers. He’d heard her pulse quicken and her breath hitch not seconds after he’d uttered the name. But Astarion had never heard of the place before and had no context for what it could mean to her. Or did he?

That vision of Áine in gleaming armor crossed through his mind’s eye again, a vision hand-delivered by her tadpole to his the night he’d first bitten her. Had she served there, before he’d met her, before the tadpole? Her hair had been cropped short in the vision, so it couldn’t have been that recent. A few years ago, however, was a possibility. 

What he could only approximate to be a half-hour or so later, Áine emerged from her tent, looking tired but no worse for wear. Astarion watched her cast a wary glance around the camp, seeming relieved at what she found before her eyes found him. She smiled when they locked gazes and the kind expression touched her eyes, which brought him more relief than he felt was due. Something was clearly still bothering her, but she at least seemed in better spirits.

Taking the smile as an invitation, Astarion approached her and parted his lips to speak when an acrid smell passed through his nose. He scowled in disgust, not realizing the scent hadn’t reached Áine’s less sensitive senses yet until she asked, a bit amused, “A fine greeting—do I offend?”

“No more than usual, my dear,” he ribbed her, earning her signature glare. “You can’t smell that?”

Áine inhaled deeply, this time catching the same odor he had. Her features contorted but she inhaled again, trying to understand what she was smelling. “What in the gods—”

“Well met, stranger,” said a strange voice. Áine and Astarion both turned to see an approaching man holding what appeared to be some sort of thurible with thin tendrils of smoke winding from its grating. It appeared to be the source of the horrific, sickly-sweet scent. “Ah, forgive the aroma. Powdered iron-vine—old hunter’s trick. Most monsters will think twice before making a meal of me while this holds up.”

“Most anything may avoid that,” Áine remarked, coughing against the back of her hand. “Sorry, who are you?”

“A Gur, it would seem,” Astarion interjected, an edge to his voice. “Funny to imagine one of your ilk as a monster hunter… I thought you were all vagrant cutthroats.”

Áine gave Astarion a look. “Must we?” she chastised him.

“No, no, your friend is right,” the man said tiredly. “We also steal chickens, curse your crops, seduce your daughters… The list goes on. Would that I had half the power settled folk think my people possess. Alas, I am a simple wanderer. And monster hunter, of course. My name is Gandrel.”

“Well met,” Áine said. “What exactly are you hunting out this way?”

“I seek a vampire spawn, so nothing that may charge us in this daylight hour,” Gandrel said. Áine’s stomach twisted, wondering what the odds were just before the monster hunter answered her question outright. “His name is Astarion, but I fear he’s gone to ground… There is a hag nested in these lands that I am hoping can help me flush him out. If I can afford her blood price, that is.”

Áine could feel Astarion tense beside her. As she’d just spent the past combined hour metering her expressions and concealing her true feelings, she was nicely warmed up for this by her estimation. “Bold to go toe-to-toe with a hag,” Áine commented warily. “What are you meant to do if you find this ‘Astarion’? Kill him?”

“Desperate times and all that,” Gandrel admitted before answering her question. “Not this time though. My orders are to capture him.”

“And bring him where exactly?” Astarion asked.

“Baldur’s Gate,” Gandrel said. “My people wait for me there. I don’t suppose you’ve seen any trace of such a creature in your travels ‘round these parts?”

“I couldn’t say,” Áine said. With a faint smugness that likely came off to Gandrel as overconfidence only, she asked, “Should we be worried? With him only being a spawn after all?”

Astarion took the bait immediately. “I don’t know… I’m sure a vampire spawn could still rip out your throat if he felt like it,” he mused, his words as pointed as the fangs he was being careful to keep obscured. Áine bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smirking at him.

“Your friend is right, unfortunately,” Gandrel said, oblivious to their wordless exchange. “They are only weak when compared to their masters. During the day, we have the advantage, but at night, when they hunt… Well, you will not find a more deadly quarry.” He frowned toward Áine. “If you’ve not already made it practice, it would be wise to post guards at night until you leave the area. The threat is very real.”

“Indeed, it is,” Astarion said gravely. “We should do something about this…threat.”

Áine scoffed at him before smiling pleasantly at Gandrel. “We will be careful. Thank you for the warning,” she said.

“That’s it?!” Astarion demanded of her, causing Gandrel to look his way in confusion. Godsdammit, Áine swore silently. “We’re just done here then?”

“Of course,” Áine said. To Astarion to cover his tempestuous outburst, she added, “No need to fret, we’ll be careful. I can take the first watch tonight if that will make you feel better.”

“That’s the spirit,” Gandrel said with a nod of approval. “Go in peace, my friends. I hope our paths cross again.”

“They’d better bloody not,” Astarion muttered so only Áine could hear.

“You, too,” Áine said, watching the monster hunter as he retreated. When Astarion’s hackles went up and he turned on her, she raised a hand, still watching Gandrel’s retreat. After he was out of sight, she looked at Astarion and groaned. “Alright, go.”

“If this comes back to bite us, it’s on your head,” he gritted.

“He’s no threat to us unless he figures out who you are,” Áine said. “Which is unlikely since he’s seen you in the daytime now.” She looked at him speculatively. “Any idea who sent him?”

“Cazador,” Astarion spat. “It has to be him. Only he would know to send a Gur after me.”

“Why would that be poignant?” Áine asked.

Astarion blew out an angry sigh. “Because it was the Gur who left me to bleed out in the streets the night that bastard offered me an escape from death…,” he muttered.

“So he did it to taunt you, you think?” she asked.

“I do,” he murmured. Astarion growled low in his throat as he glanced back the way Gandrel had left. “I cannot believe you would let him walk!”

Áine frowned. “Like I said, he hasn’t a clue who you are. And besides that, would it not help Cazador to pinpoint where you are should one of his lackeys suddenly perish in the area? Surely this one can’t be the only one out looking.” Astarion grimaced down at her. “Look, if he comes back, you can kill him, alright?”

“Oh, thank you for your consideration,” he sneered, dripping in sarcasm.

Áine was baffled by his kicking and screaming. “You do know you don’t need my permission to do a damn thing, don’t you?” she asked, her tone incredulous. “Go kill him if you want to.”

Astarion gave her a long angry and considerate look before he snarled out a sigh and shook his head, stalking off to his tent. Áine watched him go and exhaled the breath she’d been holding, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Who was that?” Shadowheart asked as she sidled up to stand beside Áine, her hands resting on her hips. She cast her gaze back toward Astarion disappearing into his tent. “And why is he in a mood?”

“Some monster hunter that’s looking for our vampire,” Áine sighed, rubbing her temples which still throbbed a little from where her nails had dug in. “He’s mad because I didn’t outright stab him in the eye, I suppose. But we had the conversation in broad daylight, so I assumed we wouldn’t have to cover our tracks. Yet, anyway.” Shadowheart gave a noncommittal hmph. Áine looked at her. “Do you think I should’ve?”

“I don’t know,” she said simply. “Your logic tracks though. Who sent him?”

Áine wasn’t sure how much of what he’d told her about Cazador was meant to be between them, so she said, “His old master. To capture though, not kill.”

“Odd,” Shadowheart murmured. “I wonder why. I’ve never heard of a vampire going to so much trouble over a spawn.”

“Worries me more than a kill order would have,” Áine said, running her hand over the back of her neck and realizing how lucky it was that she’d had her ponytail on the side of her neck he’d bitten the night before, effectively covering the marks. Properly anxious now, she decided she’d stay up for guard duty that night.

“I think it’s good that you didn’t kill him yet, for what it’s worth,” Shadowheart said. “We won’t be in the area for much longer anyway if all goes to plan. Let them wander in circles. And if they come back—”

“Let them bleed,” Áine finished for her. 

“I’d meant to ask how your night went, you know,” Shadowheart pointed out. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity. “So?”

Áine sighed and glanced toward Astarion’s tent. “Moot at this point, it seems,” she murmured. Her gaze returned to Shadowheart. “But it was nice.” 

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me?”

The sadness in his eyes as he’d said those words resurfaced in her memory. There was much more she didn’t yet know, she was sure. Whether or not he decided to talk about it at some point remained in his hands.

“He’ll come around,” the cleric reassured her, mistaking the sadness in Áine’s face for fretting about the state of her new dynamic with Astarion. “I expect details when you’re more in the mood to share.”

Áine smirked and shook her head as Shadowheart retreated, looking down as Scratch trotted up to her. “Hi, buddy,” she sighed, kneeling to pet him when she saw he was holding something in his mouth. “What do you have there?”

Scratch’s tail swished as he carefully placed his prize on the ground, whimpering toward her hands as if asking her to take it. Áine’s brow creased when she saw what it was. “Did you swipe my mint pouch?” she chuckled, picking up the familiar knit bag. “Why did you—” 

She looked into Scratch’s large brown eyes, finding something akin to worry there, and her words trailed off. Áine looked back down at the bag, pursing her lips. She always did grab a little sprig when she needed to clear her head. So much so that apparently even their canine companion had noticed. 

She smiled faintly and looked at Scratch again, giving him a loving pat on the head. “Thanks, boy.”

Next chapter: Chapter 12, "Bergamot & Rosemary"

A/N: Two things. Number one, I'm very excited to write this next chapter as scenes from it were what finally gave me the inspo kick to write this whole thing. 🥰 Hopefully I do them justice in the end.

Secondly, Act 1's canon will round out at about Chapter 18 and I'll be taking a break to do some outlining for Act 2 after that point. So I'm not gone-gone! Just might take a bit before another chapter crops up. Thank you so much for reading! x

#angst with a happy ending #astarion x oc #astarion x female oc #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav #astarion acunin #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #astarion romance #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 astarion #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #baldur's gate #baldurs gate iii #bg3 tav #tavstarion #unbound fic #soft astarion

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

The sight of spring

Karlach and Wyll announce their wedding and pregnancy. The rest of their merry little bunch starts wondering about marrying. Conversations (and sex) occur.

(Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, smut, body worship, consensual blood drinking, fellatio, frottage, foreplay (lots of it), gentle sex, ear kink (kinda), fluff, the feels, character study)

Notes:

To avoid confusion: In one of my other fanfics Halsin and Tav had named the owlbear cup Naïlo, which means 'night breeze' in the Elven language.

I used official D&D/Forgotten Realms maps to pinpoint the locations of Gale's tower house. The maps can be found here, here, and here.

The house number is based on the release date of Baldur's Gate 3 (3rd of August).

Karlach's & Wyll's faith is based on this fic.

Three other fics (Tav's gift, Tav's sex parade - Chapter 12: Mate me, mark me, make me yours, Magic Touch) are mentioned.

I have the 'elves have sensitive ears and it's a kinky thing' headcanon/brainrot since the game came out. Obviously, I had to do something about it :D

The Selûnite ritual's based on old Walpurgis Night/May Day (the night of 30 April and the day of 1 May) traditions.

It wasn't the eager knocking at the front door that woke her up but Scratch's barking, Naïlo's hooting, and Tara's persistent shouting.

"Miss Ta-hav! It's the mail boy!"

"I'm coming!" grumbled the bard and emerged from the bedroom, half-asleep and in her nightgown.

She'd returned in the early morning hours from her performance at a wedding, and had only slept for three hours so far.

Grumpily, she opened the door and was face to face with a too cheery mail boy in his teens.

"Good morning, saer!" he exclaimed loudly, smiling brightly. "I have a letter for Coin Alley 38, Mister Ancunin, Mister Dekarios, Miss Hallowleaf, and Miss Sionnach."

"That's us," grumbled the bard.

"Here. Have a lovely day, saer!" the boy shouted, handed her the letter, and ran off.

Tav closed the door and made her way to the kitchen, followed by the animals. Yawning, she started brewing some lavender tea and stole one of Gale's freshly-baked raisin milk bread rolls. He wouldn't notice, hopefully. The bard sat down, bread between her teeth, and opened the letter. Impatiently, Tara hopped up onto the chair next to Tav, trying to get a good look at the expensive paper.

"Who's it from?" she asked curiously.

"Karlach and Wyll," Tav answered surprised, then, she started to read out loud.

"Hey soldiers friends,

We have some exciting news to share. The renovations and expansion of our new home are finished and we've started decorating (Wyll wants it to be 'tasteful', whatever that means).

We'd be fucking happy incredibly excited (Wyll chose these words. Calling it 'more dignified') if you'd come over next Saturday at noon for lunch.

Wyll insists on not telling you the other news yet, but I'm way too happy to wait any longer: I'm pregnant! Soon, there will be a little Karlach or a little Wyll running 'round in the lodge mansion lodge (we must call it a 'mansion' now for some reason). All the fancy women warned me about the nausea and tiredness, but I'm fit as a fiddle! Maybe, that's a tiefling thing, I don't know.

Also: our wedding will be held during the summer solstice!

(I probably won't fit in the dress we already bought, but who cares.)

Anyway, we're looking forward to see you all next Saturday. Please bring Scratch, Naïlo, and Tara along, I miss them!

Soldier out Sincerely With all our love,

Karlach Cliffgate & Wyll Ravengard

(Sunshine insisted on putting the family names there as if you folks don't remember who we are. Silly.)"

Tav chuckled at the obvious banter the soon-to-be-wedded couple had during the writing process.

"How lovely to invite us all," Tara remarked, visibly pleased. "Miss Cliffgate’s rather smart."

"She is," snickered the bard and scratched the tressym's chin.

"They'll marry during the solstice? How lovely," Gale said, stirring the sauce pot.

"Well, darling, I'm already married," Astarion joked, wiggling his elegant fingers.

The Ring of the Sun-Walker, which granted him the ability to withstand the sunlight, glinted on his middle finger.

"Oh, my dearest husband," Tav giggled and kissed his knuckles.

Gale cleared his throat and stirred the pot more vigorously. The bard and the vampire spawn looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

"My, my," the latter warbled, moved over, and wrapped an arm around Gale's waist. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say our wizard's jealous."

"I'm not," the addressed answered too quickly. "I'm perfectly happy with our arrangement. Don't project."

"I'd never, darling," Astarion purred and licked Gale's earlobe, playing with the jewellery dangling from it. The wizard shuddered and goosebumps spread over his arms.

"I just thought you might want to be married to Tav too. – And maybe even to me."

The wooden spoon slipped from Gale's hand and plopped into the basil sauce. His eyes were wide in shock when he looked at the vampire spawn, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Asta-"

The wizard was silenced with a kiss and his legs almost gave out when he felt Astarion's sharp fangs dragging over his lips.

"I mean it," the vampire spawn whispered. "One word, darling, and we'll marry you."

"Oh."

Gale was grateful for Astarion's and Tav's strength when his legs truly gave out. His two lovers held him up between them. The vampire spawn devoured the wizard's mouth while the bard kissed his neck. Even though distracted, Gale made a hand gesture to move the pots from the fire. It would have been a shame if their dinner would have burned.

"Oh, hello. What a lovely sight. What's the occasion?" Shadowheart asked amused as she waltzed into the kitchen.

"Karlach and Wyll will marry during the solstice and Gale's jealous because I'm already married to Tav." Astarion outstretched his hand as an explanation. "Thus, we offered to marry him too."

The cleric raised an eyebrow.

"We? In terms of 'the both of you'?"

"Exactly."

"Aww, how cute," Shadowheart giggled. Then, she sniffed. "Mmh, basil sauce. Good, I'm starving. Move, lovebirds."

She wiggled her way in next to Tav and slightly pushed her away to reach the stove. In a practiced movement, she sieved the noodles and plopped them into the sauce, stirring carefully to not create a mush. Completely unbothered by Astarion's, Gale's, and Tav's passionate make out session, the cleric tried the sauce, nodded, and added a bit more salt and pepper.

"Come on, dinner's ready. I'm starving."

The others finally moved apart and Shadowheart handed them their filled plates. They sat down at the table and ate while discussing the topic of their friends' wedding.

Shadowheart was enjoying her bubble bath when Tav entered the room.

"Can I talk to you, love?" the bard asked, looking troubled.

"Of course. What's on your mind?" the cleric replied curiously.

Her lover moved closer, rolled up her sleeves, and took the washcloth. Happily, Shadowheart turned around to let her wash her back. Tav was always so gentle and mindful. For a while, the bard stayed silent, then she said: "About the thing in the kitchen... You know I love you all equally, right?"

"Right," nodded Shadowheart, slightly confused about the direction of their conversation.

"I... hm... Astarion's just joking around. I'd never marry anyone without asking for your blessing first. You're as important to me as the guys, I hope you know that."

"Of course, I do!" Shadowheart turned around in the tub to look at Tav who seemed miserable.

"I don't want to prioritise anyone and I haven't been a very attentive partner to you the last couple of weeks. I'm sorry."

"Tav, lover mine." The cleric placed a hand on the bard's cheek. "Astarion wears your ring and you wear Halsin's bite mark. In a way, you're already married to them. If you go along and wed Gale in a more traditional way, that's fine with me. Personally, I don't need such a ceremony to see you as my spouse. – But... if you'd ask..." She bit her lip before continuing. "There's a Selûnite ritual, called 'The Intertwinement of Hearts' which's a celebration between lovers. It's... well, it's basically a wedding."

Tav smiled, stroking her knuckles.

"And you'd love to participate in said ritual? With me?"

Shadowheart nodded, blushing slightly.

"I'd love to do that with you, yes."

"Then, it's done," the bard told her. "I'll talk with the others and it'll be arranged. Yeah?"

"Yes."

Tav kissed her gently and they rested their foreheads together.

"Let's get married," Shadowheart said with a giggle, slightly teary-eyed.

"Mmh, let our hearts intertwine," the bard smiled.

"You're aware that 'The Intertwinement of Hearts' is a wedding ritual?" Gale asked her, looking incredulous.

Tav nodded.

"I am, yes. That's why I'm asking for your and Astarion's blessing."

"Well... you're already mine," said Astarion and winked at her.

"I, of course, won't hold you back, but you're aware that marriage comes with responsibilities, right?"

"Yes, and are you aware that neither Astarion nor I were joking when we told you we'd marry you?"

Gale almost choked on his tea.

"You... uhm... you would?"

"Yes," Astarion and Tav answered in unison, then grinned at each other.

The wizard turned crimson.

"It would be an honour. I mean it's not that we have to marry, no pressure, but uhm…"

"But you really want to marry us," Tav interrupted him.

Gale nodded hesitantly, still flushed.

"Oh, darling! You're such a romantic."

The vampire spawn wrapped his arms around the wizard and kissed him tenderly. Gale melted into his touch and traced Astarion's jawline before stroking his pointed ear. The elf moaned and shuddered at the intimate touch.

"Your ears are rather sensitive," Gale whispered. "I read up on Elven culture and history and found some interesting paragraphs about the different ways of showing affection and intimacy. And there was an especially... hmm... 'stimulating' chapter that piqued my interest. Some rather curious methods... and I'd like to try them."

"Yes," Astarion panted, licking deeper into his lover's mouth. Gods, he was as hard as an iron rod. Gale was able to bring out a specific part of Astarion's sexual arousal that not even Tav managed to reach.

"We leave you the bedroom and sleep in your study. Goodnight, loves," warbled Tav and vanished with a snickering Shadowheart in tow.

Gale wanted to protest, but Astarion's mouth was rather distracting.

"My room," the vampire spawn panted. "More privacy, more soundproof. Come on."

He grabbed onto Gale's robe and ushered him downstairs. After closing the door, he started to free the wizard from his clothes. Gale shivered and resisted the urge to cover himself up.

"Look at you, darling. So gorgeous," Astarion all but growled and dropped to his knees.

He mouthed and licked at Gale's erection before swallowing it down. The wizard gasped at the coolth of his lover's body and ran his hands through the silver-white curls.

"Actually, I wanted to try things out on you," he groaned. "You have to stop or I'll come."

"Then come," Astarion rasped and took him back into his mouth.

The wizard let out a high-pitched sound, threw his head back and climaxed, spilling down his lover's throat. The vampire spawn swallowed it all and moaned at the slightly sweet taste. Tentatively, he got up and asked: "What did you have in mind, darling?"

Gale looked at him, dazed and panting. His pulse roared and jumped under his skin. It made Astarion lick his lips hungrily. A rivulet of sweat ran down the wizard's neck and the vampire spawn leaned in to lick it off.

"What interesting things did you read in those books, Gale? Tell me."

"I - I prefer to show you," the addressed replied.

Still slightly drunk on his orgasm, the wizard led Astarion to the bed and the latter stripped and lay down gracefully. With one leg propped up, the vampire spawn ran a hand down the front of his entire body, smiling lasciviously.

"Right," Gale said, more to himself than anyone else. He kneeled onto the bed next to Astarion. "For the thing I'd like to try you can either keep lying down or sit in my lap. The choice is yours."

The addressed thought about it for a second.

"Your lap seems rather comfortable, darling."

Thus, Gale leaned against the headboard and Astarion straddled him, grinding down on him on purpose.

"Stop wiggling and we can begin," the wizard told him.

The vampire spawn stilled immediately. Whatever his lover had planned to give him, he wanted it. Badly. Carefully, Gale took Astarion's face between his hands, stroking his jawbone and neck.

"If the literature's correct, and I'm sure it is, elves know many ways to show love and affection to their lovers. One of them, involves your particularly sensitive ears." As a demonstration, Gale ran his middle finger up the shell of Astarion's ear and the latter shuddered, barely suppressing a moan. "Elf ears are much more delicate to the touch. An erogenous zone, they say. That's funny since some humans think the same way about their own ears, and thinking that elf ears are even more sensitive... I can only imagine how it must feel like for you to be touched there."

Gale took Astarion's ears between his fingers and gently rolled them between them. The vampire spawn mewled and closed his eyes, grinding his hips down.

"Look at you," the wizard muttered, mirroring Astarion's own words. He slid his nimble fingers up higher and slightly pinched the pointed ends. Astarion moaned, mouth falling open without his consent.

"Truly a peculiar evolution of your race. You asked about the especially saucy paragraphs... well... It says that elves can reach their high by merely having their ears touched. That's why, back in the ugly old days, humans punished elves by publicly getting them off via their ears and after reaching their peak, they cut the tips of the elves' ears off. A truly barbaric, gruesome act I might add."

"Get... to the point... Gale," Astarion panted.

"I want to test said theory, dear," the wizard replied and the vampire spawn's breath hitched. "Let's see, shall we?"

Gale continued to caress Astarion's ears with his fingers. Gently, almost a ghostly touch.

"I found instructions," the wizard revealed. "There are multiple ways to stimulate your ears: hands, mouth, tongue. Even feet and genitals. There was a story of an Elven prostitute, notoriously know for climaxing by simply having air blown onto his ears. - Can you do that too, Astarion? Are you able to come that way?"

"I... don't... know," the addressed moaned. "I never - ah! There was always - ngh - more involved than just - just my ears."

"I see. Would you like to try?"

"Yes! Gods, yes!"

The wizard hummed pleased. He caressed Astarion's ears one last time before pulling his hands away and his lover closer to him. Now, he leaned forward and licked the vampire spawn's earlobe. The latter groaned.

"It's the combination that excites you, isn't it?" whispered Gale. "The sensitivity combined with the heat of my body."

"Yes," Astarion moaned, tightening his grip in his lover's hair.

The wizard dragged his tongue upwards, along the shell, ending with a little flick at the top. Meanwhile, he continued to caress the other ear with his fingers. The vampire spawn trembled, panted, and moaned. It felt like torture. Bittersweet, addictive torture. Gale repeated the motion and then, he sucked the ear between his teeth, grazing it gently. Astarion whined, bucking his hips up. Gods, he was going to die. He sobbed.

"Gale... please..."

The addressed released his ear and the vampire spawn felt tears prick in his eyes. He sobbed again. And then, Gale stuck his hot, wet tongue into his ear canal. Astarion cried out and came so hard he blacked out for a second. When he regained consciousness, his lover still traced the inside of his auricle, dipping into the canal once in a while. Astarion moaned and finally swallowed again, realising he'd drooled all over himself and Gale.

"As expected, the literature's correct and precise," noted the latter. "Are you still with me, Astarion?"

"Yes," the addressed groaned.

"Can I try something else, or do you want to stop?"

"Go on. Please."

"It might be better if you'd lie down for this one. You seem rather wobbly."

"That's your doing, darling," Astarion told him.

Gale chuckled, helped his lover to get comfortable, and lay down next to him. He leaned over the vampire spawn, looking sincerely.

"I'll make it good for you," he promised.

"You already did," mumbled the addressed.

"That's a relief," the wizard told him and kissed his forehead. "I remember how much you enjoyed it when my breath ghosted over your ear while I touched you and the mage hand pleasured you. I want to do it again and see if it alone is enough to bestow you with a release."

Gale placed a hand on Astarion's chest as he scooted upwards to lick his ear again. The vampire spawn shivered and his spent member twitch in interest. Carefully, the wizard wetted the entire shell of the ear before gently blowing on it. The vampire spawn trembled and moaned. The feeling was almost too intense. Gale did it again, his other hand sliding upwards to touch his other ear. Astarion's eyes rolled back in his head when the wizard rubbed the tip of his left ear between his fingers and sucked the right one into his mouth. Gale's touch was so hot on Astarion's cold, undead skin, and the latter thought he'd explode. Moaning, he gripped the bedsheets to hold onto something at least.

"What interesting reactions," Gale murmured, deliberately breathing right against the vampire spawn's ear. "If I'd known earlier about this phenomenon, I'd have used it to show you affection without threatening you. It would have helped to make you more comfortable around us. Around me."

"I'm sorry," Astarion panted. "Under Cazador, my ears got neglected. People rarely touched them even when I seduced and bedded them. And touching them myself hasn't the same effect. It didn't even cross my mind to asked for it."

"I see... I'm sorry," Gale told him softly. "I'll touch them now as much as you want."

"Yes. Please!" the vampire spawn whine, desperate for it.

The wizard shushed him, caressing one ear and licking and blowing on the other. Astarion thought he was about to go mad and lose his mind. Gale stuck his tongue into his ear canal again before gently blowing on it. Astarion moaned, but it wasn't enough this time. The wizard, bless him, seemed to realised it too and kissed him while his fingers caressed, rubbed and slightly pinched his ears. Astarion's breath hitched, his ears rang, and he thrusted his hips upwards into the wizards thigh. He shook, exploded, his vision whitened, but he didn't ejaculate. The vampire spawn whimpered, utterly overstimulated and sensitive to any touch.

"How fascinating," Gale mumbled, tracing his lover's member. "It seems like you had a dry orgasm. It would be most interesting if we could –"

Astarion hissed and slapped the wizard's hand away.

"Don't touch me, I'm too sensitive. It - it hurts."

At that, Gale looked alarmed.

"It hurts? Where? Everywhere? Or only your –"

"Everywhere," the addressed groaned. "It feels like I'm on fire."

"Oh, that's not good. I haven't read enough about the effects of dry orgasms and overstimulation. Maybe I should ha-"

"Gale? Shut up, please," Astarion sighed and closed his eyes in exhaustion.

"Are you dizzy? Nauseous?"

"Gale..."

"Apologies, but I'm worried."

"I'm fine. Just give me a moment."

"As you wish."

Gale lay down next to his lover, cautious of not actually touching him. Astarion was grateful for it.

"I think I simply came so hard, my brain got fried," he muttered.

The wizard chuckled and carefully took his hand.

"Is that alright?"

The vampire spawn nodded and Gale just held his hand silently until his body functioned properly again. Then, Astarion pulled the wizard into a sloppy kiss.

"Thank you. It was amazing. I'm looking forward to the next time you find some interesting literature that needs testing to sate your curiosity."

"That's good to know because there's more," smiled Gale.

Astarion snickered and kissed him again.

"I can't wait for our wedding night and our honeymoon. You'll ruin me in so many delicious ways, I'm sure of it."

Gale blushed, flustered.

"Only if you're willing," he mumbled.

Astarion grinned widely, fangs glinting in the candlelight.

"Oh, darling, I'm very willing."

Astarion's presumptions turned out to be right. Gale made him come in some many ways and so many positions, he couldn't remember half of them. All the vampire spawn remembered was how Gale had payed extra attention to his ears, and how they'd made love, with their foreheads touching, their fingers interlaced, and the sinking sun as their witness.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #astarion #astarion ancunin #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #karlach #karlach cliffgate #shadowheart #tav #wyll #wyll ravengard #mind the trigger warning #smut #character study #astarion x gale #they're in love your honor #Gale’s a well-read nerd #tara's an icon

[web-spinning]

The following implies past abuse.

The vampire spawn tossed and turned in his sleep. His mind has been replaying the darkest moments from his past, leaving him to only whimper in his sleep. He couldn't escape.

He had to obey his master all over again.

Those antics did not go unnoticed by Halsin. He was used to waking up to cries; for a reason the children in the Grove always calmed down way faster with him than with their parents. But this was new. It wasn't a child, it was a grown man crying, begging in his sleep to not be hurt.

The druid blinked a few times, adjusting his eyes to the campfire's light. After a moment, he stood up, leaving his bedroll behind.

Halsin approached the much smaller man, kneeling next to him.

Astarion seemed to notice this shift in his surroundings, as some broken whispers left his mouth.

"Master, please...master."

The druid looked over the poor vampire, slowly bringing his hands to the man's chest. His palms glowed a light green energy as he casted a calming spell on the smaller man to help him get out of the nightmare.

Before even a second could pass, Astarion bolted his head up, catching his breaths. He sat up and analyzed his surroundings but didn't seem to notice the druid, who still had his hand on his chest.

"The one you're looking for is not here. You're safe." Halsin explained. The vampire noticed him then, along with the hand on his chest.

Halsin slowly let go, putting his hand on the ground. They both stared at each other for a few seconds.

"Why were you..."

"Heard your cries, you were having a bad dream. Wanted to help." Halsin explained.

"I don't need your pity." Astarion replied after a moment of thought. His mind was still scattered all over the place, but he had managed to built his walls back up. He had to act just the way he always did with his companions; short and cold. He didn't know any other way of defending himself.

"I'm not pitying you, Fangs. I'm worried. I know it haunts you. I know you feel like any given moment he can come back and..."

"You don't! You don't know anything!" Astarion lashed out. It caught the druid off guard, but he let the vampire continue. "You don't know what it's like! I feel watched everywhere I go. Every coven we enter I'm scared he's lurking there, in the shadows. Every new companion we meet I'm scared they're a hunter send by him...every step we make to get rid of those tadpoles I..."

Halsin didn't say anything, just let the man continue.

"...I'm scared I'll have to go back to him once it's all done. I won't be invincible to the sun anymore. And he will be able to control me."

The druid nodded, a sad smile on his face. He didn't comment on the confession.

They both stayed in silence for a moment.

"Can I touch you?" Halsin asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Can I touch you?" The man repeated. Astarion thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Tell me if you don't like anything I will do. I promise I will listen."

Halsin slowly put his strong arms around the smaller man, pulling him into a hug, then he laid both of them down onto the bedroll. He placed the blanket back over them both. The vampire spawn didn't speak, just hugged him back. He put his head on the man's big chest, and cuddled into it.

"Why are you doing this?" Astarion asked. His head was spinning still from the nightmares, and he couldn't help but feel nice in this position. He liked it. He wanted it.

But all of his guts told him it's a trap. That Halsin is planning something. He's gonna wait until sundown to kill him, or wait until he falls asleep and bring him to the monster hunter...His destructive thoughts were stopped when another wave of the calming spell hit him.

"Like I said, I'm worried. I grew fond of you during our troubles. I know you keep up this mask of the sure of himself, sassy prick, but deep down you're just hurt. I know you don't like showing weakness, but please, don't be scared. I won't tell anyone. I will keep everything that happened tonight a secret." Halsin explained, hugging the man tighter. Again, Astarion didn't protest, and nodded into the man's chest.

"Besides, this isn't the first time I wake up to you whimpering about your master. He took a toll on you, didn't he? That bastard...but you're safe now. I promise."

The coziness of the bigger man's chest and the small cracks of fire from the campfire made Astarion slowly begin to slip away.

"Halsin?"

"Yes, Fangs?"

"I think I'm in love with you".

#bg3 #random writing #original writing #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 halsin #halsin x astarion #bloodbear #bloodhoney #bg3 spoilers #requests open

[ladytesla]

Breaking His Record (Gale x Tav)

(Mindless self-indulgent fluff featuring Mr. and Mrs. Dekarios. Usually my tav Medora is a Halsin girlie, but I do love an alternate ending in Waterdeep. No content warnings, just a couple of nerds being nerds. Be gentle lol)

it was one of the rare days in Waterdeep when the snow fell hard. It collected on the panes of the windows, and the balcony outside was unusable at the moment, the furniture nothing more than rounded lumps under a good three inches of snow. Glancing outside at the steel-gray sky made Gale even more content sitting where he was on the couch. He had a fire roaring in the hearth, the piano in the corner idly playing soft music as it always did, a glass of red wine and a plate of snacks on the end table within reach, Tara draped around his shoulders like a purring scarf, a cushion behind his back in just the right spot, and his new wife asleep beside him with her head in his lap.

Gods, Medora was his wife now. She had been for three months, but it still amazed him every morning when he woke up beside her, or every time he felt the weight of his new wedding ring. His family adored her, his friends welcomed her, even Tara tolerated her as much as a grumpy old tressym could. She had lost her home and her family. He had lost hope. And somehow, in their darkest days, they'd found it all again in each other.

That's a good line, he suddenly realized. Got to remember that one in the next chapter I write. His manuscript, chronicling what Medora jokingly called 'The Tadpole Adventures' only had a few chapters written out. Someday he'd finish it. He let his eyes wander drowsily over the sheets of parchment, the rich dark wood of the desk, the ink, the quills...

His lips suddenly curled into a small smile. It had been a while since he'd tried to break his record... and now was a perfect time.

He brushed the back of a finger over Medora's cheek to test if she was awake. She didn't stir. Perfect.

"Levitatus," he whispered, pointing to the jar of pencils and quills on the corner of the desk. It floated slowly across the room toward him and he gently caught it, wincing when some of them clacked together. It might as well have been a thunderclap with how quiet the room was. Still, Medora didn't move, not even when he took one pencil from the jar and gently, ever so gently, lodged it in the thick, messy bun of her hair.

He'd started doing it as a joke when they sat together at faculty meetings at Blackstaff Academy. She often had her hair tied back now in a careless half-knot at the back of her head, and she sometimes kept a pencil in it in case she needed to take notes on the fly. Due to the curls and thickness of her hair, it rarely ever fell out.

So what was one more? Her hair was so thick that it took ages for her to notice that he was slowly adding pencils to it. After that, she rarely let him sit behind her... but then their friends caught on and also began to try their hands at the pencil game. It became a joke among them, and Medora would always pretend to be exasperated, but she still laughed. The day she didn't was the day Gale would put a stop to it all, but so far it was still a mindless and silly little game. He still held the record of four, much to the chagrin of his friend Quill from the transmutation department, who had a wager riding on their other friend Inara who taught psionics reaching five. As nice as those numbers were, they didn't compare to how many he could get when Medora was asleep. That record sat at nine. And now here she was, bundled in a thick blanket, lulled into an afternoon nap by wine and the fire and the music (and, he hoped, the comfort of his presence), so it was unlikely she would awaken.

As he reached for another pencil and found a crochet hook instead for some reason, he felt small paws kneading at his shoulder. Tara was awake, and watching the show. He shook his head slowly, tapping a finger to his lips. Not a word.

She dug her claws in slightly, as if to say I can speak whever I very well please, thank you very much Mr. Dekarios, but stayed silent. Gale paused as he considered where to place the next (oh, it was a knitting needle this time). He couldn't go too close to the scalp, and also he couldn't dislodge any of the other objects as the accidental movement might wake her up. He wondered, as he slowly slid the knitting needle home, if this was what surgeons felt like during operations.

Gale held his breath as the ninth pencil (he'd moved on to quills now, actually) lodged in what was starting to look like a bird's nest. Still, Medora slept on. The song the piano was playing ended and he screwed his eyes shut and didn't move a muscle until another began. No unnecessary sounds. He was so close to breaking his record. He reached for the jar again, and his face fell. The jar was empty! He held it up for Tara to see, craning his neck to meet her eyes and pleading silently for her help. She rolled her eyes as only she could, then got up and with a tressym's grace leaped off the couch and silently padded out of the room. Gale sat and waited, hoping she'd hurry. He didn't know how long Medora would doze.

Finally, Tara reappeared, and oh gods yes he'd buy her as many fine treats as she wanted. She'd found the soft case with the rest of Medora's knitting needles inside. He took it gleefully, carefully unrolled it and withdrew another needle.

And... ten. The record was broken! Gale turned to silently celebrate with Tara, but she'd left the room. Of course she had. Not satisfied with simply breaking his record, he grabbed an eleventh knitting needle. Then a twelfth. And reached for a thirteenth.

"Get them out, Gale."

"Ah!" He hadn't been expecting Medora to speak, and the knitting needle fell from his hand in surprise. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, a wry smile on her face.

"I broke my record," Gale grinned, tapping her nose with his finger before starting to remove the various objects from her hair.

"Did you now?" She asked airily. "Or did I wake up midway through and let you think you were winning?"

"No..." he breathed, looking down at her in dismay. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, I would," she grinned back. "Your record is invalid, my love."

"When did you wake up?" Gale asked as more pencils and quills clacked back into the jar.

"I'm not telling," she said simply. She sat up and stretched, then reached for the wine glass on the end table. Her own sat empty on the other end table, and his was still quite full.

"Oh no you don't!" Gale triumphantly held it out of her reach. "You're not telling because you don't know because you're lying through your teeth!" He grinned. "You slept through the whole thing and you know it! Admit it!" He leaned away, keeping the wine still out of her reach. "The record stands!"

"Wishful thinking!" She laughed, trying to climb over him to get the glass. He finally let her have it with an exaggerated sigh of annoyance, and she curled up closer to him with her prize and examined the contents of the jar.

"I was wondering where that knitting needle went," she mused, plucking it out of the jar and adding it back to her needle case.

"You need to stop leaving them all over the place," he chided as he settled an arm around her shoulders, twining a loose curl of her hair around his fingers. Once the wine was gone, she got up and went to the kitchen for the bottle to refill both off their glasses. They huddled together under the blanket, staring into the fire and listening to the music from the piano and the wind howling outside.

"The record still stands, though," Gale said after a while. Medora smiled and rested her head on his shoulder.

"We'll see," she murmured.  Gale turned and pressed his lips to the top of her head... mindful of the single quill he'd still left in her hair, just to see how long it would take her to notice.

#my writing #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #Medora

[tavyliasin]

A Thief in the Forge - Short Fic

Look, darlings, I can do short if I really want to...

Astarion's sticky fingers have landed him in hot water with the Forgemaster once again, and this time he's going to have to work off the debt. The trouble is, the friendly Tiefling doesn't quite think through the meaning of his words, and far be it from the elf to leave an innuendo unnoticed... The first half of the work is below, or you can read the full version HERE on AO3~ (it was still too long to fit entirely on Tumblr...I need to work out the post length limits)

Halsin sat back in a chair by the exit to the Forge of the Nine. He had accepted the task of keeping watch over a certain unruly vampire with sticky fingers. Astarion had been caught stealing from Dammon, again, and the party had agreed that the pale elf would be put to work to pay off his debt. Of course, nobody quite trusted that he would follow instruction and pay his penance, but he was at the very least a reasonable salesman. A pretty face can draw in a crowd, so it seems. The druid smiled to himself, taking a long sip from the cold drink on the table beside him. There were worse ways to spend a day. — Dammon pored over his long list of work orders. Some of them were simple household necessities, others on the slightly more dangerous side. He was glad for the business, but he was beginning to wonder if he should actually have an assistant to help with the more physical work. He watched the oddly pale man wave off another customer, getting a nod from Halsin that all the coin was present in the pouch before taking it and tucking it safely into his apron. “That’s enough sales for one day, Astarion. But you’re not off the hook yet. I need more help around here.” He watched the elf put a hand on his hip, a cocky stance that was becoming all too familiar. “Do you have any experience handling hot things?” “Well, darling, I handle Tav and Halsing all the time~” He smirked with a wink. Somewhere nearby a druid regretted the timing of his drink and hastened to dry his leathers with a cloth. Dammon simply frowned. “I meant MOLTEN METAL.” “Oh! Then no, I do not.” Dammon let out a long sigh, brushing a stray strand of hair back behind his horn. “Ok, do you think you can get down on your knees and blow?” “Buy me dinner first, Forgemaster!” Another splutter from the other side of the forge quickly followed Astarion’s reply. “THE BELLOWS, Astarion, for the fire-” “Well why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” The elf shrugged disarmingly. Dammon stood a little taller, glowering slightly with bright blue eyes that almost glowed with a slight hint of orange. “Because not everyone has such a filthy mind.” Astarion stepped back, hand on his chest, a look of genuine horror on his face. “They don’t?!” The Tiefling tried hard to ignore the poorly stifled laughter from the druid in the corner. “Look, you’re obviously very sharp witted, now how about you put some of that into sharpening these kitchen knives? That’s easy enough, isn’t it?” “Oh don’t worry I have plenty of experience grinding.” He grinned. Dammon rubbed his temples, wondering why he ever agreed to this. No, Dammon, think of the sales, the workload, he can be useful. It’s good penance too, he can’t be enjoying this that much. Right. That’s it. We’re teaching him a valuable lesson. “Let me teach you how to sharpen it properly, first.” The Forgemaster did his best to appear as a schoolmaster instead, taking a firmer tone with the…far…older… Doesn’t matter, he has to learn. “Oh you should know I’m an excellent learner, I was always teacher’s pet~” The hint of sharp teeth accompanied the wink. “Could you just for one moment stop with the flirting and the jokes, please?” His patience wore thinner than the edge of his finest blade. “Absolutely not.” The elf looked positively offended by the very suggestion. “Where would the fun be in that?” **Continued on AO3**

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #bg3 tav #ao3fic #astarion #dammon #halsin #short fanfic #innuendo #humour