#wyll angst

[20skai]

Let Me Bear Your Burden

Wyll x Tav OC (Nemeia)

Wyll and Nemeia have a heart to heart about his true feelings being the Blade. She comforts him the best she can.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, feelings ✨some suggestive themes

Word Count: 1152

Nemeia wakes to thrashing about. Looking over she sees her bed mate, Wyll, with a grimace on his handsome face. Lowly muttering in his restless slumber. Not knowing what to do she begins to whisper soothing words and caresses to his cheek.

“Mizora. Father, help me. I need you! No!”

Wyll wakes with a start, sitting up from the bedroll. His heart threatens to burst out of his chest. Sweat is sticking to his forehead, torso, and limbs. Another nightmare. Godsdammit, he hoped he didn’t wake Nemeia. But to his shame he looks over to see her looking at him with concern. He turns away in self loathing, she’s always strong for everyone else why can’t he be strong for her?

“Wyll, do you need anything?” She threads her fingers through his and gives it a squeeze.

“No, I’m alright. Just a bad dream.”

A few moments of silence pass through them and Wyll hears her sit up beside him and places her other hand on his cheek to guide him back to face her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He looks to the ground, feeling nothing but shame. He made the deal and has to live with the choice he made. But why does he feel so disquiet about it now? Wyll wants to talk but Nemeia is always lending her ear to everyone and helping with their problems. What kind of partner would he be if he dumped his troubles on her too?

Nemeia can feel the anxiety rolling off Wyll in waves. She thinks of what she can do to help unburden him. An idea makes its way into her mind, she takes his hand in her and places it under her sleep shirt. There, Wyll feels a long scar on her abdomen. Looking at her in shock he sees a small, awkward half smile on her face.

“This was given to me by a Sharran. I’ll spare you the gruesome details but suffice it to say I was traveling and they ambushed me. It still haunts me to this day and I still have nightmares about it. I say all of this to tell you that you can always talk to me about anything. I care for you so deeply and I want to help if I can.”

Listening to her story has Wyll in a flurry of emotions. Anger, hurt, but most of all relief. Relief that she’s still here, still alive and with him. He pushes her to lay down on the bedroll and lifts her sleep shirt just high enough to see her wound. Gazing at the scar he sees the slightly jagged edges and can’t help himself to kiss the wound.

A gasp leaves Nemeia at the feeling of Wyll’s lips on her skin. His lips are soft and warm and only make her squirm in a strange mix of need and bashfulness. Continuing to kiss her abdomen Wyll looks up to his love’s face and sees the cute blush that formed on her cheeks, eyes closed and her bottom lip between her teeth. He shows mercy and stops to move his face up to hers, caressing her cheek he then places a gentle kiss to her lips.

Rolling off of her, Wyll lays back down on their shared bedroll and brings her body with him and holds Nemeia in his arms. She has her head on his chest and listens to the slightly elevated heartbeat right under her. A few minutes of silence goes by as the couple just hold one another.

“I feel that I’m a fraud.” Wyll begins. “When I made the deal with Mizora it was to save the Gate, my home. But now? I feel like I’m fooling the people of the Coast. They see me as a hero. A person to slay their monsters and protect them and their families. But I’m no better than the vermin who prey on them. How heroic can I be, being bound to a devil?”

Nemeia lays there contemplating what Wyll has just confessed to her. She feels sadness that Wyll believes himself to be a fraud and a feeling of anger almost takes hold because his words are a consequence of the years of abuse from his patron. But she stamps that down. No, he doesn’t need her thinking she’s angry at him in this vulnerable moment.

“You’re not a fraud, Wyll. You protect the people of the Coast because they needed a hero. You continue to be the Blade because you’ve grown to care and love them. I will not begrudge you for making the pact because in that moment it was the best option you had to save the people of Baldur’s Gate. And even still, after all these years, you still stick to your principles and morals, even though it would have been easier to abandon them.”

Nemeia lifts herself up off Wyll’s chest and looks him in his eyes with as much tenderness as she can muster. “I know my words won’t change how you feel overnight. But I want you to know I adore you and I’m with you until the end. And whenever you start to feel like this, don't hesitate to talk to me, I’m here to help you share your burden.”

Feelings of gratefulness and appreciation blossom throughout Wyll’s heart. This woman, his woman, is too good to him but he will spend every day of his life being the man she deserves. Pulling Nemeia back to his chest he strokes her back with one hand and holds her hand in the other. Contentment and affection swirl around the two as they bask in the silence of the room.

“I adore you too, Nemeia. Thank you for being strong and believing in me. And being just wonderfully you.”

Chuckling, the tiefling woman places a kiss to his chest and looks up with a cheeky smile. “Of course I’m me. Who else would I be?”

A short laugh escapes Wyll’s throat and he starts to tickle Nemeia’s side. She gives a squeal and begins to laugh; she begs for him to stop while trying to squirm out of his grip. A happy grin has made its way onto the warlock’s face basking in the happiness she brings into his life.

Ceasing his tickle-fueled assault, Wyll admires Nemeia coming back down from her laughter. Once her laughs die down to small chuckles he brings his hand to her cheek and delights in the way she nuzzles into his palm. He kisses her slowly and tenderly hoping it conveys how lucky he feels to have her. Seeing the same emotions reflected back to him in her eyes, Wyll brings Nemeia back to lay on his chest. The couple again settles down for the night to sleep and no nightmares plague either of them. Just happy dreams of a bright future ahead with each other.

#bg3 #wyll ravengard #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 wyll #wyll #Wyll x Nemeia #Wyll x Tav #Wyll x OC #Wyll angst #Wyll fluff #Nemeia Vadu

[kringle-c]

"It's only-"

#longpost #bg3 #wyllstarion #wyll ravengard #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #lyric comic #standing on my lil soapboc and crying #guys guys i worked rly hard on this be nice to me plz #i know its angsty but its good right #right #rolls around in my angst pile #lyricstuck #finally its only taken like #5 years

[dilfpassing]

beach episode when

#my art #wyllstarion #bloodpact #bloodblade #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #wyll ravengard #astarion ancunin #astarion #wyll #i had to draw something happy and loving after that 60 fucking panel angst comic i drew LMFAO

[ririarts]

What have you become, my love?

Were you ever anything else?

One day, will I hunt you too?

I'm playing Astarion origin with Wyll romance, but I ascended Astarion. Wyll was very disappointed.

#expect me to milk this drama and angst to the end of my days #wyllstarion #bloodpact #my art #my artwork #art #artists on tumblr #comic #short comic #bg3 wyll #bg3 astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #sketch #digital art

[deer-with-a-stick]

Me, going through the romance options: Lae'zel is hot, I'll try it out. Ooh, Karlach has a great personality I love her. Shadowheart's got some issues but she's grown on me. Wyll is interesting because I feel like I don't see characters like him that often. Astarion's got plenty of angst, I like it. I'm curious as to how Halsin's bear form would work...ugh how do I choose.

Gale, eating my boots and infodumping about his cat: Do you have a good place where I can die so that I won't murder innocents I'd appreciate it

Me: I want that one

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate three #bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale #lae'zel #karlach #shadowheart #wyll #astarion #halsin #im sorry to minthara stans but im literally never going to goblin route #i've romanced lae'zel shadowheart and astarion so far #being aroace is not going to stop me from romancing my companions #like you mean i get more angst in their character arcs?? #yes please

[viablemess]

It's rare that I critique bg3 but I do feel like the sussur blooms not having a massive impact on Gale's orb was a missed opportunity. Gimme the orb freaking out bc suddenly there is no weave for it to feed off of, gimme Gale in more pain than normal because of the pure Karsite weave sitting in his chest with only his life as fuel. Gimme a ticking timer until the orb explodes unless Gale gets far enough away from the blooms.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale origin #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate gale #baulders gate tav #bg3 gale #bg3 karlach #bg3 astarion #shadowheart #lae'zel #wyll ravengard #bg3 thoughts #angst #larian studios #thank you larian #larian pls #im plotting while waiting for patch 6

[clairxandra]

Hey fanfic writers of BG3,

What if Orin took Tav instead of Halsin /gale /laezel /soup child

Please

Think of the angst

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #angst #fanfic #it’s 1am and I have worms in my brain #wyll ravengard #lae'zel #shadowheart #halsin #karlach #baldur's gate iii

[sorcerous-caress]

Hello!! I love your writing 😍 Would it be okay if you wrote Karlach, Lae'zel and whomever you wish with a tiefling!Tav that loses both a horn and an eye during a battle and can't quite find balance in their fighting afterwards bc of it?

Reacting to Tav losing a horn/eye

[Hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, nb!reader, Tiefling!reader]

[Karlach, Laezel, Wyll, Halsin]

Karlach

She swears she can still hear it, your agonised scream, the splatter of blood, the crunch of bone being torn apart.

As if the world slowed down for a moment, an eerie quietness surrounding the battlefield for the uncomfortable stretched out seconds. Your companions turning to look at you, clutching your eye with your back hunched.

Dread filled her stomach, one of your horns laid on the bloody floor next to your feet.

She doesn't remember the rest. Only when she stood atop the burnt rubble of what used to be the battlefield, did the all-consuming rage fade away from her mind.

Karlach is immediately at your side after, apologising for not being there sooner.

She's by your side as you heal, making sure to bring you anything you might need. As your struggles to adjust to combat again in the aftermath become more and more evadint, she is one of the first people to suggest fully leaving combat to her.

Yes, you are capable. Yes, she has seen how strong you are. But sometimes life just doesn't go the way we plan it. You can relay on her instead.

You don't have to go back to the cruel world. You can let her take care of it. Karlach really can't afford losing you. She'd claw her way up the heavens and steal you away if your fate took a turn to the worse.

Laezel

She completely disagrees with Karlach. This is nothing but a minor setback if anything. Laezel completely has faith in you to relearn how to find your balance, and she'll teach you if she has to.

As long as you can still stand on your feet and carry a sword, then you can fight in her eyes. She will give her sincere apologies for letting you down in battle and not doing something before enemeis got the chance to best you, but besides it, you'll get no pity from her.

Why is everyone acting as if you died? You're clearly still the same strong and capable person she knows. If anything, each scar is evidence of how your enemies' failure to put you down, you should show your broken horn with pride.

She has enough self awareness not to impose her views on you, no matter how much she thinks her companions are being dramatic and oversensitive, is she noticed you being fully uncomfortable with her approach she will take her leave from your bedside.

But you got fed up with people infantlising you, then she will be the first to 6pull you back into an intense daily training routine until you regain your footing.

Wyll

While Karlach and Laezel were too busy arguing about your own fate, Wyll was there for you throughout every stage of healing. He knows what it's it like losing an eye. He can relate to the horror and dissociation that happens whenever you look at the mirror to see a piece of yourself missing.

He still hasn't gotten used to his own horns himself, and losing one of yours must have been painful to bear. He will stay by your side until you feel better, no pressure to discuss the future or your fighting abilities or anything.

Wyll will make sure you don't feel alone, that the dark thoughts don't consume you too much. Share you worries with him, let him help carry your burdens, please. It kills him seeing someone so dear to him suffer when he can't do anything or help.

Halsin

His heart breaks, seeing you coming back to camp limbing and bloodied that day. He prays to Silvanus to ease your pain as he takes shift with Shadowheart to nurse you back to health with healing spells.

Nature can be so unforgiving sometimes, to some animals, losing an eye or horn can be a death sentence.

But he has seen even the most withered of plants suddenly flourish and regain their strength, he has personally stayed up countless nights to care for the weak kittens that their mother refused to even acknowledge.

He has seen them grow, nurtured them into a strong healthy state.

Don't surrendered to the darkness, when the abyss starts whispering about how this is your end and how your potential was wasted you yell at the abyss, bite, claw and fight your way out of this rut.

True strength lies in the heart, give yourself time to rest, and don't rush your healing. Eventually, you'll be back on your own two feet with a new view on the world before you can realise it.

#♡Karlach #♡Halsin #♡wyll #♡Laezel #♡fluff #♡angst #♡hurt comfort #♡tiefling tav #karlach x reader #halsin x reader #wyll x reader #laezel x reader #bg3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader #fluff #hurt/comfort #tiefling Tav

[letters-from-dekarios]

aftermath

summary: you, your boyfriend, and your companions just saved the entire world from being turned into giant squid people. now, you have to go back to normal. how do you even do that?

or: you have anxiety over the future and gale comforts you.

word count: 2.3k

tags: sad angst/fluff, gale x gn!reader, tara is also there for a minute <3

As night fell over the city, a calm hush washed over you. This should have been a normal night, circled around the campfire with three of your close companions. You should be mentally preparing for the day to come, what trials you will encounter, and what people you’ll help. But tonight.. tonight was different. With the threat of a mindflayer infection gone, settling into a cozy bed with your boyfriend, Gale, almost felt.. wrong?

Wrong? Why would it be wrong? You’d been dreaming of having this moment together for ages now, and now you’re finally living it! The moonlight danced over your face as you turned to get comfortable, pushing the anxiety away from you with force. But as soon as you tried to close your eyes again, it came washing right back over you.

You turned onto your back once more, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. You finally had a good, steady home after all those months fighting for it, and yet— you wanted nothing more than the comfort of having a purpose that was more than simply existing in this life.

Part of you wondered if that would ever wear off- perhaps you’d go scaring Gale half to death by seeking out a new adventure and new threats to conquer. The other part of you just wanted to get some damn sleep. And, well, also wondered when you’d settle back into “normal” life again. Could you even grasp that concept long enough to imagine it? After all, you weren’t exactly the ‘normal’ type.

Mindflayer specimens aside, you had changed as a person over the last few months. You were no longer the same as when you were abducted, no longer a simple baldurian trying to get by. You were a hero, known across all of Baldur’s gate— and further— for your acts. Normal didn’t really… exist for you, anymore.

Almost sensing your unease, Tara found her way into the bedroom. You hated to say it, but you found yourself seeing Gale’s comparison more and more every day. It’s a compliment! You almost had to remind yourself of that.

“Mister Dekarios won’t be pleased if he sees you awake,” Tara called from her ledge by the window. You turned to face her, a small smile greeting her presence.

“Mister Dekarios won’t be pleased if he sees those pigeon feathers in your fur, either.” You bantered with the Tressym. Tara had taken a liking to you, and you were rather glad for that.

With a small noise akin to a ‘tisk’, and a nudge to Gale, Tara was off back into the night. If only it were that easy.

It would take Gale a moment to wake, you knew that, so you stood and headed towards the window. Looking out over the city, mostly silent save for the occasional drunkard or merchant, your mind began to wander. Would you be here, now, with the one man you loved most, if it hadn’t been for those mindflayers? Would you ever have even crossed paths? You couldn’t answer that, and you didn’t want to, either.

A breeze slipped through the window, pushing your hair away from your face. You wrapped your arms around yourself, bracing for whatever would come next. What would come next?

Gale finally began to stir, a groan leaving him as he awoke in the dead of night. You pitied the wizard now and then, it was like he could never get enough sleep. Though… was it the age or the tadpoles that did it? You had no idea.

“Love..?” He called out, reaching to his side for you only to find you not there.

“Over here.” You replied, turning your head towards him so he could see you.

He made his way out of the bed, stretching out before stepping towards you. His hand found its way to your lower back, comforting the unspoken worries he could see on your face.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked a familiar question you were always unsure about answering. You might’ve responded ‘a flesh-eating tadpole’ before, but now that joke was obsolete.

“Come on, now, you’ve got something on that pretty little mind of yours— and it isn’t a tadpole this time.” Or, perhaps, Gale would make the joke for you.

“How do you do it?” You asked, turning your face back out to the city.

“Do what?”

“Go back to normal? I mean.. just a few weeks ago we didn’t know if we’d live or die and now.. now we’re supposed to cuddle together without the looming threats over our heads? How do you do it?” Desperation for an answer that would satisfy you lingered in your eyes as you looked up at him. How could he even begin to answer that?

“Darling…” Gale sighed, reaching up to cup your face with one hand. The other, still on your back, ran in a gentle, soothing circle.

“As much as it pains me to say it, there really is no… ‘normal.’ For god’s sake, we had devils chasing our tails and giant squid people trying to take over the world! Normal isn’t achievable for anyone nowadays.” He laughed softly, and though you knew in some part of you that he was right, it wasn’t the answer you wanted.

You pulled your face from his hand, looking back out through the window with your brows furrowed. You could hardly be mad at him for his sensible response, but you wanted more out of his answer.

Yes, logically, there was and never had been a ‘normal’. But it was the concept of normalcy that eased your mind at night. Knowing your daily routine would flow like usual, the baker would always have a fresh loaf for you in exchange for the three potions you prepped the night before (which you’d made in advance with the items you gathered that day on your way to check on your shop. Because of course, you had a shop!), that the librarian would have your books already set aside for you, and the blacksmith would have finished your newly commissioned dagger. Normal wasn’t even the right word for it anymore, it was the routine that kept you going.

“I understand that, Gale.” You replied, unusually cold to be speaking with him. Okay, maybe you were a little mad at him for his response. You knew he meant well, but, still.

“Ouch.” He frowned slightly, lowering his hands from you as he leaned against the frame of the window, his eyes trailing to watch the lights dancing in each home. “What troubles your heart, my love? Be honest with me, not angry.”

“Sorry..” You mumbled as you saw how you hurt him. You took a breath, ran a hand through your hair, and sighed out once more. “It’s just,” you stepped away from the window, gesturing as you tried to put your thoughts together, “before everything, the tadpoles and the mindflayers and the threat of constant death and before everything, I, you, we had lives, right? We both had family or friends we took care of, or a routine we’d settled into after years of careful planning, we had regulars or were regulars, we owned ourselves and our actions for who they were in their entirety, right?”

Gale nodded, allowing you to continue in your rambles. He had to admit he found it quite adorable the faces you made while deep in thought, though he wouldn’t say that aloud right now.

“Why is it so different now? It haunts me knowing I’m just.. supposed to find that all over again. Do that all over again. Everything has changed and yet nothing at all and I’m just supposed to figure it out? Like that? Why can’t things go back to the way they were, and why does it hurt so much knowing it will never be the same?” You asked, your voice cracking towards the end as piles of pain, guilt and fear washed over you.

“Oh, sweetheart..” Gale’s voice grounded you. His soft inflection of a pet name you adored brought you back to him, his arms open as you collapsed into him.

“I’m just so tired… and I can’t even find it in me to rest like this..” You added, allowing him to wrap his strong arms around you. You practically melted into him, despite still being so tense from your emotions.

“I didn’t know how troubled this was making you, my love.” He placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, holding you tight in his arms. “How long have you been feeling like this, darling?” He asked, pulling back slightly to look down at your face.

You sniffled softly, tears slowly forming in your eyes and falling down your cheeks. You had kept it in for so long that the feeling of not feeling normal had, well, become normal. Letting it out was like dropping three smoke powder barrels down after carrying them from the goblin camp to Ethel’s teahouse because who knew when you might need them.

“A while..”

Gale sighed at your response, pulling back to sit down on the ledge of the window. He pulled you towards him and stood you between his legs, looking up at you with eyes full of worry and love. He took your hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs along your knuckles. “Y/n…” he started, grabbing your attention.

“You’re never going to get that back or find it again if you don’t communicate with me how you’re feeling. I’ve read thousands of books by all the wisest men in the world and yet I still can’t read your mind,” He paused, pursing his lips, “Well, I can, technically speaking. I choose not to. But that’s beside the point here.” He shook his head slightly at his diversion to the subject at hand.

“The point is, my love, I can’t help you, or us, gain or retain any sense of a normal routine if aren’t talking to me about it. It’s not easy by any means, and I don’t blame you for having your reservations about trying to find that again. Neither one of us is the same as how we started before all of this, too. You know that, yes?”

You nodded your head, using that as your response instead of verbally replying. Tears continued to roll down your cheeks as he spoke and you began to realize the true size of this issue.

“Instead of trying to go backward in time, can we agree to move forward together? Tell me, my love, what do you want for us?” He asked, reaching a hand up to your face and wiping a few tears away.

“I don’t… I want..” You had to think about it for a moment— what did you want with him? You never thought you’d get this far, especially since he was supposed to, you know, explode into a giant magical ball of energy (or however he explained it, you never understood that whole thing). And now here you were with him, all threats in your life gone and with the possibility to start anew, not over.

“I want us… I want... I want you. I want to start a life together with you.” You finally replied, sniffling and leaning into his touch.

The moonlight danced across the tears on your face, causing them to glisten and sparkle. Despite the high emotions, Gale couldn’t help in thinking about how pretty you looked at that moment.

“Then let’s start a life together.” He replied instantaneously, nodding his head in agreement with you. He dropped his hand from your cheek to your chin, lowering your head to look at him. “Let’s start a life together and have a million little children and a million Tressyms and—“

You cut him off with your laughter, shaking your head as he went on. Your soft laughs died into giggles and you found yourself leaning down to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What? I’m being serious!” He gasped at your audacity to laugh at the idea of a million miniature Gale’s running around creating Tressyms. His gasp quickly shifted into his signature low chuckle, his arms slipping around your waist while he tugged you into his lap.

“A million children, Gale?” You asked, laughing still as you looked back at him, shaking your head.

“Oh, you’re right. A million and one. Just in case.” He joked, leaning in to rub his nose against yours.

“That’s better..” you giggled, leaning into him as your anxieties washed away. Every day you were more and more thankful that you had him by your side.

“Y/n…” He said softly, looking into your eyes.

“Mhm?” You hummed, running a hand through his hair. Your eyes were focused on his for a moment, then his lips, then his eyes again.

“Promise me you’ll be more open as we go through this together, my love.” His face was serious, and you were forced to focus on him entirely and not the overwhelming desire to kiss him right there.

“I promise.”

“Good.” His serious expression shifted to that trademark grin as he leaned into you, brushing his lips against yours before finally pressing them together. You, of course, returned the kiss with as much gentleness as he had put into it.

It wasn’t long until you were back in bed with him, a weight taken off your shoulders. You were still anxious, of course, but for a different reason this time. Not because you had to figure out how to parent a million children— but because you had a whole future ahead of you with someone who truly, unconditionally loved you and would always be there for you.

You finally drifted off to sleep, comfortably nestled in the arms of your lover. You found yourself dreaming of the life you’d have, no longer pressured by fitting into a mold that stopped fitting you long ago. It was time to create your own mold to grow into, and you knew Gale would be right by your side to help you do that.

#baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction #gale fanfic #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x tav #bg3 halsin #bg3 #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 wyll #bg3 karlach #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #astarion #lae'zel #shadowheart #wyll ravengard #writing #for you #for you page #fiction #light angst #fluff #gale x reader #x reader #gn reader

[eyebagshawty]

Hey, I really like your works! I wondered if you could make something about suicidal reader and astarion, gale, halsin and anyone you feel like.

But only if you're comfortable with it. Some general hurt/comfort would be ok. Best inspiration 💛

Blurbs for Male Companions Comforting a Suicidal Tav

Pairings: Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Wyll

Warnings/Tags: some canon typical violence, suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, angst, comfort, some are durge Tav, probably a dead dove do not eat situation

A/N: As someone who struggles with this type of thing daily, I really enjoyed expressing my interpretation of this; it was therapeutic in a way. These are blurbs, so it may not be as developed as I would like, but I hope you guys like it! Let me know if you want a part two with the ladies :)

Astarion

Marcus had kidnapped Isabelle. The sweet cleric had welcomed your party into the arms of Last Light Inn, and somehow you were too weak to save her. It was your fault.

Your. Fault.

Astarion had comforted you after, saying you couldn’t have known you would need every last bit of your magic to give your help. You couldn’t have known you would need to rest. It was just as much of a surprise to him, to Shadowheart, to Karlach. But the more you stare at Nettie’s wyvern toxin — more of a keepsake at this point than a tool for battle — the more you decide you should’ve known. Jaheira’s expression after Last Light had fallen, it’s burned into your memory. You had promised her your only intention was good, but there was still something in her eyes that showed blame.

As you watch your companions move around camp and settle next to the fire, your left hand subconsciously lifts your dagger from its holster; your right hand coming up to your mouth to open the seal of the wyvern toxin. Where could you even go from here? There was no moon lantern, but no reason to go back. You don’t even have anywhere to go back to if you think about it.

You really are a monster, the tadpole your own scarlet letter. The dagger is slathered with the wyvern toxin, and as you smile at your lover from across camp the dagger makes a shallow slice into your thigh just out of sight.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed guys, we’ve got a lot to plan tomorrow about where to go from here,” you mumble, your eyes slightly glazed from the poison entering your system. Your companions nod in agreement, each one heading to their tent to prepare for bed. Astarion, however, watches you. His brow furrows, and he’s about to offer for you to sleep in his tent again, but you’re already in front of him. “Hello love, I know it’s a bit early into, well, us. But I was wondering if I could sleep with you tonight.”

Astarion gently takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles. “Of course my sweet,” he whispers. But the closer you get to him, the weirder you smell. He can smell the familiar bouquet of your blood, just a trace of it, but there is a sour note in there. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” As he looks back up to your eyes you let out a sob you’d been holding since earlier that day. His eyes widen; he isn’t good at comfort but for you he can try. “Darling what’s wrong?” He prods, needing to help you in your state.

You feel you can’t verbalize it, so your tadpole nuzzles up to his, asking for entrance. He accepts, and the images of your actions, your thoughts, your feelings flood into his mind. After the connection breaks you crumple to the ground, the poison entering the later stages.

Astarion’s thoughts immediately clear as he stares down at you in horror. He gathers your body into his arms and runs to Shadowheart, your seemingly now small and delicate form writhing within them. Shadowheart stands as she sees him running. “What happened Astarion?” She sternly quips, her eyes softening at the sight of you.

“They… it was one of those winged horrors. It poisoned them. Please help them. Please.” Astarion looks down at your eyes as they twitch and gaze blankly towards the sky. Shadowheart eases an antidote and a greater health potion into your mouth. Once you have your faculties about you once more, you lean your face into Astarion’s chest and weep. “Shh my love, let’s get you to bed.”

He lays you down gently to the various pillows in his tent, his every vein screaming to run. He isn’t ready for this kind of care and work a relationship requires. What am I thinking? It’s Tav, not some sorry bloke from a tavern. Get yourself together.

“I’m sorry. That was a pathetic idea for me to have, I know you might not want to explore this any further and I’ll still help you with-“

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling,” he mutters as he strokes your cheek with his fingers. “I’ve been right where you are before. Nowhere to go further but nothing to go back to, hmm?” You nod and he gives you a sad smile. “I find that I’m more happy than ever to be alive right now. Well, unalive but that’s no matter. I have you. We will find a way to get that damned moon lantern. I’ll bite everyone in this camp to take a break for a day. Whatever you need. I’m here and I… I love you.” He definitely didn’t think of saying the L word now of all times, but as a surprise to him it feels perfectly right.

“I love you too. Please just hold me.”

And so he does.

Gale

As you wake to the blinding light of the sun, restraints tug at your wrists. The memories of the last night come flooding back into you. The fear in Gale’s eyes as you bit at him that he had tried to hide, the way you kept failing to break through the urges to speak to him. He was so sweet to you. He didn’t deserve it. You love him.

“Glad to have you back with us my love,” Gale whispers into your ear as he frees your wrists and ankles from the restraints. He helps you to your feet and leads you to the fire. “Breakfast is ready. You told me your favorite is an omelet with bacon and some tea?”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to do this for me. I was being dreadful to you,” you mutter, looking down at the food.

“Of course I did. Our love knows no bounds, right? Now, eat. Baldur and his gate are waiting for us.” He kisses your head and you force a smile, shoving the food into your mouth as if you aren’t sick to your stomach with yourself.

-

The fight in the astral prism had put everyone off kilter. When you had found out the protector in your dreams, the person you needed to trust with your life, was a mindflayer, you only wanted rip each tentacle off its face and eat them as it watched. You did trust it. You were just so deplorable you thought its intestines would look beautiful around its neck to hang outside of your tent as decoration.

You can’t stand yourself anymore. Not just your actions, but your body. The urges make your body hurt, make your head pound and your stomach wretch. You never see a person in the mirror, you see a diseased sack of flesh squealing to be kept alive.

Gale holds you in his lap, leaving soft kisses on your neck as he reads one of his unusually large tomes. You feel disgusting. You will never deserve something nice like this. “I’m going to go see if I can spot the city from that building over there love,” you whisper as you kiss his cheeks and stand up, your stomach twisting as he gazes at you with loving eyes. He can’t love this, can he?

“Do you want me to tag along? I love a good tower as much as the next wizard,” he asks softly as he rubs your sides with his warm hands. You shake your head and force another smile. His brow lightly furrows but he shakes it off and presses a kiss to your lips in parting.

You find yourself sitting on the edge of the tower roof overlooking all of Baldur’s Gate. It has been a couple of hours, and you decide you don’t want to know any more about Orin or the makings of the absolute. Something in your mind tells you it will be the end of a lot of things if you find out. You shakily stand, letting out a ragged breath as pebbles skitter off the edge from under your feet. You close your eyes, exhale, and lean forward, when you fly through the mist into Gale’s tent. You let out a broken cry as warm and strong arms wrap around you, smelling of parchment and tea leaves.

“My love, I’ve felt the immanence of our situation for a while, and when Mystra abandoned me I thought I was as good as a newborn gnoll, destined for nothing but madness. But darling, what were you thinking?” He mutters into your hair.

“The urges won’t- nothing will stop. At my core I’m evil, something to be exhausted. I can’t-“

“Tav, I wouldn’t be as in love with you as I am if these things you said about yourself were true. I would give up my tressym to Astarion if it meant I could relieve any of your pain. Don’t tell her I said that though, Tara would never let me hear the end of it.” You let out a quiet chuckle, his dry humor always helping. “Now let’s sleep, no matter what this packed and unforgiving city does to us we will get through it together.”

“I love you, please, please don’t leave.”

“I would never dream of it.”

Halsin

Orin has captured Gale, and you feel helpless. Did you really not know your friend well enough to see that a shapeshifter was in his place? You have known him for months at this point. And yet, it was your fault for not checking in with him. For getting in that petty fight over the crown of Karsus that made you both ignore each other.

As you and your party trudge once again through the sewers, Astarion and Shadowheart both bombard you with questions about their personal needs within the city.

“Shadowheart, I understand we need to go to the House of Grief but Gale could quite literally be dead right now,” you assert softly, trying to show that she means just as much to you.

“Ugh, Gale. Of all times we have to be in a pickle it has to be over him and right now,” Astarion mutters to himself. You try to push down your frustration but the smirk on his face pushes you over the edge combined with his next words, “You’re the one that’s supposed to be making the rounds, darling. I can take Shadowheart to the house, and you and bear boy can find the bootmuncher.”

As shameful as it is for you, tears burst from your eyes as anger and anxiety take over. “So go. I don’t care anymore since you have never gone out of your way for us. I… fuck!” You slam your sword onto the ground and walk yourself back to cool off.

As Astarion builds up his retort, hurt and defensiveness flashing across his expression, Halsin steps in front of you protectively. “Calm down, Astarion. This does not need to be a fight. Let’s just break for the day. Come, my heart.” As he takes your hand comfortingly in his, you feel a gnawing dread seeping into your bones. This was all your fault, and you keep burning bridges with people you care for and you don’t know how to stop.

At the end of the day you find yourself in the middle of the woods, further from camp than Halsin liked, but it was your privacy; you asked for it and he would respect it. You stared down at your sword, your hands jaunting out to hold it at an awkward angle towards your chest. It had been like this for around an hour; you couldn’t even do this correctly, thinking about how everyone would grimace if they found you like this . Fuck it.

As the knife glides through your padded armor, a large hand places itself on your shoulder. It’s warm, and it smells like herbs and cinnamon. “My heart, please. This is not the way. We’ve come so far on this journey, together, and almost nothing has ever gone wrong. Silvanus guide me, please speak. I need to hear that you are okay,” Halsin chokes out, his voice thick with concern.

“It’s just… I would have known if Gale was acting weird. If I hadn’t pushed him away. I’m doing the same to Astarion, I’ll do it to all of them. When someone goes Illithid it will be on me. Hells we’re taking a break and he could be anywhere.”

“As much as we all love you little one, there is no leader. Nobody could have seen that coming. I had choice words with Astarion, and he would love to speak with you. Everything is handled, I just need you to understand that we can take the weight off of your shoulders occasionally. I love you with everything inside of me. Please know that you are loved.”

The sword clatters to the dirt, and Halsin brings you into his arms; a bear hug in every sense of the term. “I guess I will need Astarion to sew this back up,” you mutter, finger the frayed threads above your heart.

“That sounds like a great idea, little one. I’ll put on some tea for when you’re done.” He kisses your head and walks you back to camp, his arms never leaving your waist.

After a cathartic conversation with your resident vampire, a big brown cave bear awaits you in your tent with blankets and tea.

Wyll

On the dock overlooking the Chionthar, a blade glares up at you from your worn fingers. The Netherbrain is dead, your friends are free from the things that bind them, but you don’t know if it’s the same for you. Nobody forced you to create the Illithid plot with Enver Gortash, nobody forced you to kill Alfira. Her face will haunt you forever, what you did to her in a cold sweat during the middle of the night.

Sure, you had given up Bhaal’s inheritance, but it was still your skin that was covered in blood. It was still your face that bit and spit at the urge’s victims. It was with your eyes that you looked down at Alfira’s cold and eviscerated body. Wither’s had resurrected you in the temple, but you still felt shame creep into your veins. You weren’t a new person, you just forgot.

You saw Wyll hugging Karlach, her new Illithid form unusual but still distinctly her. You want to be with him, you need him like breathing, but the guilt and regret is gnawing at your flesh like a newborn gnoll. Maybe he would be better off taking his role as grand duke by himself, the whole city would whisper of the mad adventurer that had to fight for forgiveness to their complicit nature in the plot. As the blade begins to take its final drink from your wrist, Wyll looks up and shouts your name.

An eldritch blast knocks the blade into the sea, and warm hands wrap gently around your wrist, and a handkerchief is pressed to the small nick. He smells sulfuric but sweet like cinnamon apples as he presses a worry-filled kiss to your head. It comforts you but it shouldn’t; you don’t deserve this. “My love, what is wrong? The netherbrain has fallen, Karlach lives, what could trouble you this much?” He whispers into your ear, making sure the others know this interaction is private.

“I can’t live with myself. I may have forgotten a good extent of my past, but I remember everything from that point on the nautiloid onward clear as a whistle. It’s too much to act like I’m this hero,” you whisper back, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Wyll lifts up your left hand, a ring glinting in the morning sun. He kisses the knuckle wearing it, and looks up into your eyes with a bittersweet smile. “I did not choose you to be the love of my life, my sun and stars, because I thought you were evil my love,” he kisses your cheeks and puts his forehead to yours. “That wasn’t the you I see before me, this wonderful creature who sees past my horns, past Astarion’s vampirism, past Gale’s orb godssakes,” he chuckles and you let out a quiet laugh.

“I just don’t want to be that again. Ever again,” you whisper as you glance at your joined hands. Wyll brings a hand to your cheek and kisses your lips with a tender touch.

“It will take time. Just like I have newfound bumps in weird places, I need to get used to those. It’s being human. Now come with me, future Ravengard, we have beers to slam with our friends.”

He helps you up, and pulls you into the tightest hug as if you could disappear. You walk into the brightening dawn to the Elfsong Tavern, making sure tease him about becoming the grand duke the entire way.

#fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #bg3 romance #gale dekarios #gale x reader #halsin x reader #halsin #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard #18+ content #please read tags #angst

[carooosa]

The Rose with Hidden Thorns

A/N This takes place before Enchanted Distractions

Summary: ADHD!Tav (reader) struggles with being a leader. They need to balance what they want and what the rest of the party wants. After taking some time alone for themselves, Tav is caught off guard by Astarion. They share some moments together, before Tav finds out who he really is...

Word count: 4k

Smut if you squint, slight angst at the end

One of the good things that came out of the tadpoles was your increased ability to focus. Remembering what happened last week, let alone yesterday, no longer caused mental strain. For the first time in decades, you were confident in yourself. You could finally think clearly. There was no reason to second guess yourself now that the cloud of uncertainty that followed you around seemed to dissipate. 

Botany had been one of your many short-lived passions as a kid, and now out in the forest, each turn brought about new plants and herbs to identify. The catalog that lay dormant in the back of your mind was thrust to the forefront; excitement that was long forgotten making itself known once more. 

Not only were you excited to grow your knowledge, but to actually put it to use. The nights you spent under the covers sneaking a few chapters or so of whichever botany book you could get your hands on were finally proving useful. Potions, grenades, elixirs, oils, and anything else that your party needed, you could make. Granted, it took some trial and error at first. The satisfaction of saving your group a few gold was well worth the wasted ingredients. 

You couldn’t help it when you ran off to grab a bushel of mugglewort or a handful of weavemoss. Lae’zel was the first to remark on the frequent side paths you would lead the party down.

“T’cthk. There is no time for gathering when we should be hunting down the ghaik that plagued us with these tadpoles,” she said. Lae’zel was always impatient, but when Wyll mumbled approval and Shadowheart wearily nodded in agreement, you faltered.

Noticing your self-doubt, Karlach spoke up. “Aw come on guys, don’t be so hard on Tav. It’s not like they’re doing this for no reason. They make those potions for us so we can save some coin.”

You heard a scoff behind you and turned to face a disapproving Astarion. “Extra gold is useless if you’re a mind flayer, darling.” He grabbed the plant in your hand and grimaced as he took a sniff of it. “You could at least find something with a more pleasant aroma.”

You ignored his remarks, choosing not to get into a petty argument; lately, Astarion seemed to always have a quip or smart remark ready for you. “They’re right, Karlach. We don’t have time to be taking detours,” you say, snatching the daggerroot from Astarion’s hands. “Besides, I can always come back later if I want to.”

Karlach wasn’t satisfied with that answer, and to make it known she stormed to the front of the group and started pushing everyone forward. “If you’re gonna get your panties in a twist over taking too long, you better be ready to get your steps in.”

Karlach had taken it upon herself to act as an older sibling to you. You hadn’t asked, and you were certainly capable of managing things yourself. The silent allegiance was formed after you had convinced Wyll that Karlach wasn’t a devil, and that she wasn’t harming anyone. Although her support was unnecessary, it was appreciated, as being tasked to make difficult decisions as the impromptu leader weighed heavy on you.

You knew you weren’t everyone’s first choice of a leader, anyway. Hells, you weren’t even your first choice as a leader. Wyll seemed like the smartest answer, but neither Astarion nor Karlach felt comfortable with a monster and devil hunter commanding them around. Gale was the next logical option, however with the secrecy of his… condition… and the fact that if he died again he would destroy Faerun, he had been pushed to the back of the party.

Shadowheart and Lae’zel had volunteered at the exact same time, and it was clear amongst everyone that neither of them would be calling the shots. You suggested Karlach, and Astarion had made some comment about how she would blow at the first difficult decision. You’d suggested him then, instead; clearly this is what that manipulative vampire wanted. He smirked when you had said his name, but his eyes searched your face. He was looking for something, and you weren’t sure what. Before you could comment, he had taken you by surprise by saying that you would be the best choice. 

“Darling, I do not need that stress. My face is flawless and I’d like to keep it that way. However, you,” he had always found ways to make digs at you, “look like the type who handles stress regularly. You were able to talk your way out of getting burnt to a crisp by a Zhentarim, while he was casting a fireball. You were able to walk into the goblin camp without causing any suspicion. You were able to somehow convince all of us to work together to get these damned tadpoles out of our heads.”

The rest of the group had agreed with his reasoning, and you were set in charge of the party. You tried to argue, but Astarion cut you off

“It’s already been decided. Besides, if you ever need help, I’m sure anyone here would be willing.” He took a step closer to you and lowered his voice to be just above a whisper, “I know I certainly would.” You weren’t sure if he had said that to flirt with you or threaten you, as the glint in his eyes could’ve gone either way.

What he had said about the others helping you had been a load of shit. In fact, everyone seemed to come to you for every little problem now. Gale needed an enchanted artifact to consume? It was up to you to find one. Wyll turned into a half-devil because he didn’t kill Karlach? You had to comfort both of them and promise to find a way to get him out of his pact. Lae’zel stood too close to Shadowheart? You were the one running in between them to stop the impending bloodbath. And yet there everyone was, annoyed that you took quick detours to find ingredients to help them spend less money on potions. 

Now here you were, 2 nights later, trying to remember where you saw the herbs on the path taken earlier that day. You were mumbling to yourself as you passed the same dead tree for the 3rd time when you heard a twig snap behind you. You reached into your bag and grabbed the first thing you could to threaten your stalker, turning around to prepare for a fight.

Astarion stood in front of you with both hands up in the air like a thug who had just been caught red-handed. “A mushroom?” He raised an eyebrow while using one of his hands to push the fungus away from his face. “Not the most menacing of weapons, is it now?”

You pushed him away from you as you sighed in relief “Hells, Astarion, you scared me! It’s not nice to sneak up on someone, you know? What are you even doing out here this late?”

He tutted at your reprimanding. “I could ask you the same thing. You’ve been walking in a circle for the past 20 minutes.”

You shoved the mushroom into your bag and turned away from Astarion, continuing to search the brush for plants. “I told everyone I would stop taking detours, didn’t I?”

“So you’re out collecting mushrooms?”

“Not just mushrooms,” you corrected, “other ingredients, too.”

As you dirtied your hands in the brush, a silence fell over the both of you. You grabbed the last morsel of a mushroom and turned around to be faced with Astarion tapping his foot impatiently, his arms folded across his chest. “I haven’t seen you make any potions lately.”

You stare at him incredulously. “I know. I’m purposely not flaunting around the potions that I spend half my night gathering ingredients for and the other half making.”

Astarion laughed and his mouth curled into a devilish grin. “Who would’ve thought that the ever-so-kind and selfless Tav would do something for only their gain.”

A warm blush spread over your cheeks. “You still never told me why you followed me out here. Everyone needs to sleep if we’re going to have any hope of getting these tadpoles out.”

“Darling, are you forgetting that I’m an elf? We don’t ne-“

“Oh that’s right!” You interrupted, “Elves don’t sleep, they meditate. I read that in a book. Is it true that elves can relive exact memories?” 

“That… depends.”

Oblivious to his uncomfortable demeanor, you ask more invasive questions. “Is it true that elves don’t grow facial hair? It looked like none of the wood elves in the grove had facial hair. I suppose it’s kinda ignorant of me to just assume all elves are the same. I mean, Halsin is super tall and elves are usually short.” You quickly blurt out an apology, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Besides I wouldn’t even call you short, you’re taller than me, although that’s not saying much,” your words start to tumble over each other as you ramble. You turn back around and bend over a rock to continue searching for ingredients, wincing as you remember you’ve already collected anything of use.

Astarion chuckles as he brings a hand to his forehead. “Yes, it is quite rude of you to assume all elves fit into the exact description you found in whatever children’s book you read.” He looks at you in amusement, “But sadly, no, I cannot grow facial hair.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad. You don’t have to worry about shaving.” With your mind focused on pretending to search, you don’t realize the words you’re saying until after they come out, “it must be nice not having to worry about pubic hair, either.” 

You freeze as your mind catches up to your mouth.

Astarion takes a step towards you, positioning himself right behind you, settling his hands gently on your back as he leans down to your ear.

“Was that also in a book of yours?” His breath tickles the tip of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Noticing the way your body reacts, he drops his head down. His lips hover over your neck for a moment before he presses himself into you, causing you to let out a gasp. You feel his hardness push into your back as one of his hands begins to slowly caress your arm.

His behavior surprises you, and you try to think back to any signs of possible attraction. Some looks that linger for a second too long, a hand on the small of your back as he passes by, and the fact that lately he seems to always be next to you, but you don’t want to jump to conclusions. These gestures could very well mean nothing to him and you would be none the wiser.

Thinking back on what you know of him, you realize you don’t know much at all. He mentioned that he was a magistrate in Baldur’s Gate before the mind flayer abduction, but that was about it when it came to his past. Astarion would always change the subject whenever anyone asked him anything personal. Just like he had changed the subject earlier when you asked him a question.

While you were lost in your mind, he began to grind into you, the hand that was previously caressing your arm now gently groping your breast. He placed soft kisses on your neck, moving from the tip of your ear to the nook where your collarbone was. Your body pushed back against his absentmindedly, matching the slow rhythm of movement he had set.

It took him completely off guard when you spoke up. “You never answered my question: what are you doing out here?”

He quickly pushed off of you, “Gods, Tav! You’re still thinking about that?” You scrambled off of the rock and caught a glimpse of him adjusting his clothes. A sticky silence filled the air as you stood and studied Astarion. His face was turned away from yours, similar to how a child would act if they were trying to show defiance. The silence continued as it became clear neither of you would fold. You refused to let him get away with not answering you again.

To ensure there wouldn’t be any other distractions, you stared into the side of his face, repeating in your mind over and over, “What was he doing out here this late?” You weren’t sure how long you both stayed there; seconds, minutes, hours; but at one point Astarion quickly glanced and made eye contact with you before averting his eyes again. You watched as his features softened for a moment. That softness was swiftly hidden by a sly smirk as Astarion relented and turned towards you.

“If you really must know the truth, I was curious as to what you were up to.” Although he spoke with a concerned tone, his eyes were slightly glazed over.

“So you decided to sneak up on me and scare me?” This time you were the one who acted like a child, crossing your arms and letting out a huff.

Astarion let out that mischievous chuckle of his and took a step toward you. “That really wasn’t my intention, whether you believe it or not. I was simply worried about you.”

His words took you by surprise, a small gasp leaving your mouth. You tried to find the words to a smart reply, but instead stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

As if your reaction was what he wanted, the glint returned to his eyes. He closed the gap between the two of you, his movements precise and calculated. Astarion gently grasped your arms and unfolded them, his hands cupping both of yours. 

“Is that really so hard to believe, darling? That I could be worried about you?”

You felt your tadpole squirm from behind your eye, causing you to look up at Astarion. He silently pleaded, and you relented, opening up your mind to whatever it was he was going to show you. You closed your eyes, the darkness fading into the previous morning. 

You saw yourself from Astarion’s point of view. There was blood sprayed all over your armor from a skirmish with some gnolls. Although you had tried to hide the gaping wound on the left of your back, it was clear now that Astarion had noticed it.

After checking on the rest of your party, you watched as your body stumbled in to what you thought was a secluded corner. Your past self quickly pulled up your armor to apply a salve on the wound. In this vision, you could feel what Astarion felt as he watched you. Concern, yes, but there was something else there. Something feral that had awakened once you pulled up your armor. That feeling was pushed down, and just as he had done earlier in the day, Astarion stayed in place, watching you treat your wound from a distance.

Another vision pushed into your mind, this one unique and new; not a retelling of the past, but instead currently happening to you. You were out in the forest, taking off your clothes. As you lifted your blouse above your head, cold hands wrapped around your waist. You let out a shudder as needy lips worked their way up your back. The kissing stopped at your neck, and you turned your head to the side to get a view of who was with you. Before you could see the white curls and pointy ears of the man behind you, his scent overwhelmed you. You let out a choked gasp.

Astarion made eye contact with you, his eyes radiating that same feral feeling you must have felt in the previous vision. Without leaving you a chance to catch your breath, his lips crashed into yours. He turned your body to face his as his grip tightened on your waist. A low growl started in the back of his throat as he ravished your lips. Instinctively, your hands raised up to his head and grasped at his hair, trying to ground yourself as your pulse quickened.

The familiar feeling of a wiggle behind your eye snapped your mind back to whatever “reality” you were currently in. You felt Astarion trying to dig deeper into your mind, into your wants and desires, and without a second thought, you quickly yanked his head back, throwing you out of the vision. 

As you steadied yourself, Astarion made his way behind you, similar to the vision he had forced into your head.

“Darling, let’s go back to camp, hm?” he said in a low, sultry voice.

You were tempted to agree, if for nothing else to at least get some much-needed rest. But if you went back now, there wouldn’t be enough ingredients to make a potion of greater healing, and after your fight with the gnolls earlier today, you were desperately needing one. “I won’t rest until I find that balsam I saw earlier.”

Astarion gave you a tight squeeze before pushing you away, “Gods, you really are persistent, aren’t you? I guess I have no choice but to aid in your search.” 

You scoff, “You and I both know that you won’t be getting your hands dirty.”

The two of you spend the next two hours searching. Astarion is the one who finds the balsam, and you’re the one who digs it up. You make your way back to camp, talking about trivial, inconsequential things; anything you can think of to keep your mind off the visions Astarion showed you earlier. 

Has he always looked at me with such cravings? Maybe I’m oblivious to any signals he’s given me, you ponder. The utter need you felt from Astarion as you stood in his shoes was almost unbearable. It was hard to breathe. You glance up at him beside you and see that stoic face he always reverts to. His hair looks like it’s glowing in the moonlight, his eyes sparkling like the stars in the sky. 

You catch the faint flicker of the camp’s fire in his eyes’ reflection and you pick up your pace, not noticing the brief second that Astarion’s eyes caught yours. Your body aches from the exhaustion of the past few days, and you quickly drop your bag and kick off your shoes, not caring about the mess you’re making. I’ll deal with it in the morning, you think to yourself, as you pass out next to the fire.

You wake up with a jolt and push yourself up from your bedroll. In front of you is Astarion, his eyes swirling with fear. His mouth is opened into a snarl, and the moonlight catches on his teeth.

His fangs.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear!” Astarion pleads with you to listen. He says that he’s a vampire spawn. As he continues to frantically explain himself, your body grows numb. Your mind wanders away as you question everything that happened mere hours before.

You sit all the way up from your bedroll, causing Astarion to stumble to his feet. While he’s regaining his balance, you mindlessly ask, “What were you actually doing out late, Astarion?” You don’t look him in the eyes when you question him.

He sighs. A moment passes before he answers, “I was out hunting. I heard a rustling and followed it. To be honest, I thought it was a mouse making that noise. It just so happened that what I heard was you, scrounging around the forest floor.” He lets out a nervous chuckle before continuing, “I was merely curious as to what you were doing. I had no intent to harm you. I promise.”

You don’t believe a word he says, but you’re too tired to question the authenticity of his story. If he wasn’t just ‘curious’ as to what you were doing and instead hunting yo—

You quickly push the thought down and remind yourself that you’re supposed to be a leader to this group, to Astarion. Leaders are strong and benevolent. You’ve always struggled when it came to strength, and lately, more and more blows have been hitting you. Difficult decisions are always on your shoulders, and no matter what you choose, someone is always let down.

You weren’t sure how to command a group of adventurers, but you knew you had to be selfless. And a selfless leader makes any sacrifices necessary for their companions.

“Ok.”

Astarion looks at you with an arched brow. “Okay? You’re not going to shove a stake through my heart?” 

Refusing to meet his eyes, you bluntly say, “I’m not going to judge you for taking care of your needs. Everyone in this group needs sustenance to be strong enough to fight.” Your exhaustion is starting to catch up with you, and perhaps if you had more sleep you would have thought your next actions through. Against your better judgment, you tilt your head to the side and offer your neck. “Go ahead, but make it quick.”

Astarion takes a step back, surprised that you would be willing to give him your blood. You’ve also surprised yourself, but your mind is elsewhere as he positions himself on his knees in front of you. You shiver as he gently brushes away the hair from your neck. Without warning, a sharp pain shoots through your neck. You feel your blood drain as Astarion sinks his teeth in deeper, consuming your very life’s essence.

You begin to feel dizzy from the blood loss.  Unable to stay present in this moment, you think of all the times any of your companions have helped you, and you realize they all have the same thing in common: they’re using you as protection. Lae’zel and Shadowheart are using you as protection against each other; Karlach is using you as a safety against Wyll. Gale is ensured magical items to consume, and Wyll can rest easy with your assurances of his freedom from Mizora.

You thought he was different, but even Astarion was using you for his benefit. For his place in this group. For his meals. Tears start to pour down your face and your body trembles from the heartache you feel.

Astarion pulls away from you and you finally look him in the eye. His eyes are blown out, practically completely black. There almost looks to be genuine concern on his face. Almost.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you? Well, more than the obvious, of course I hurt you, I can go get a potion,” he rambles, your blood dripping from the side of his mouth.

Barely above a whisper, you stare him directly in the eye as you say, “I thought someone actually cared about me for me, not for what I could provide them.”

Taken aback, Astarion stares at you, his expression unreadable. He quietly gets up and starts to walk into the forest before stopping. “This was a gift, you know. I won’t forget this.”

As you watch him slither into the darkness, your exhaustion comes back. Your body, mind, and blood are all drained. Sleep quickly consumes you, your mind an endless void allowing you no respite from your sorrows. 

When you awake, the rest of your party is already packed up and ready to continue on the path forward. You quickly ready yourself, not noticing the neat bundles that the plants from the previous night were tied into, and prepare for the long trek ahead. 

Thank you to @socialinadequacybeingsuchamust for helping me with spell checking/grammar/pushing the story in the right direction! And thank you to the many beta readers on @oharahive's discord!

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #bg3 shadowheart #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 karlach #bg3 gale #bg3 wyll #fluff #smut if you squint #angst

[sunflowerwizard]

I think a lot of Devil!Wyll meta focuses on the doom and gloom of the transformation, but man. As someone who has hated their appearance on and off throughout their life I really want to see him on the slow, sometimes arduous journey of self-acceptance.

I want Wyll to slowly reclaim the body that once didn't feel like his. His greatest act of revenge isn't killing Mizora, it's living well despite what she did to him.

And maybe someday he's the father to a tiefling baby. Wyll watches their horns slowly grow in, the same shape as his. Suddenly it's harder to hate a feature he shares with someone he loves so much.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #wyll ravengard #twilitalks #sneaking in a bit of dad!Wyll propoganda #I think personal experience is probably going to color the way people feel about Devil!Wyll #And I'm not going to fault people for finding the angst compelling but man I am fighting tooth and claw to bring this man any happiness

[ririarts]

It isn't fair.

#idk what possessed me I was sad #my art #my artwork #art #artists on tumblr #digital art #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate wyll #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #wyll ravengard #wyllstarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 wyll #astarion #blood #angst #bloodpact

[riksie94]

Have some ANGST.

I see plenty of posts about Astarion being immortal and him seeing his lover pass because even if they’re long lived like an elf, they are still mortal. Same theoretically goes with Halsin should he have a human or tiefling lover. Even seen it done for Raphael.

What if it was the other way around? Say, for three certain tieflings? From my understanding, they age like normal humans. Should their partner be a drow, elf (or even half elf), etc., it’s highly likely their spouse is outliving them (unless the spouse is killed/unnatural death.)

Hell, this could even work with humans like Gale and Wyll.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tiefling #bg3 headcanons #angst #gale dekarios #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #bg3 gale #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan x tav #rolan #rolan x reader #tav x rolan #bg3 x reader #zevlor x tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor #zevlor bg3 #tav x zevlor #baldurs gate 3 dammon #bg3 dammon #dammon #dammon bg3 #dammon x reader #dammon x tav

[moonselune]

Wyll is always holding that goblet…

Karlach’s big day pt2!

Part one

#bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate fanart #baldurs gate iii #karlach #my art #baldurs gate karlach #baldurs gate astarion #astarion ancunin #shadowheart #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #Karlach eats books #that’s why she hasn’t read since secondary school #Gale dekarios angst #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #baldurs gate tav #bg3 tav

[scarredwithcruelintentions]

chapter 3: a desperate revelation

Find the masterlist here!

CW: Astarion talks about his abuse.

W/C: 2,795

A/N: My dog had heart surgery last week... please send all the good vibes for her recovery!

After the arduous fight with the Hag, Astarion wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bedroll. Shadowheart had mended the worst of their wounds with a healing prayer, and your quiet songs of rest had bolstered their energy for the trek back to camp. Once out of the bog, the fading rays of the sun’s light were visible once more.

He paused a moment to marvel at the way they painted the sky in various hues of pinks and oranges, a sight he had long since given up hope of ever seeing again. He tried to convince himself that any day spent in the sun was a day worth having, no matter how fleeting a retreat it might be. 

A plaintive sigh escaped him at the prospect of returning to the shadows after being blessed by the warmth of the light.

“Copper for your thoughts?” you intoned from behind him, startling him out of his quiet reverie.

“For nearly two centuries, I’ve known nothing but darkness and pain. To stand in the sun, after so much tragedy and despair, is nothing short of a miracle,” he whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder, it would shatter the beautiful illusion he’d come to know and he’d instead find himself a psychotic wreck, locked in a mausoleum somewhere at Cazador’s behest again.

He tracked your approach in his peripheral vision, mentally preparing himself to broach the topic of his past, of his Master’s cruelty. You stopped at his side and gazed out into the encroaching darkness with him, listening along as the song of birds gave way to the chirp of crickets. The stars began their winking, and the ambiance of rural night crept over them in a subdued melody.

“Without darkness, there would be no light,” you said quietly. 

He peered over at you, watching as the moon started its trek across the indigo sky just above your head. You glanced at him, and your eyes met his for a moment. He did not expect the sorrow that he found in their depths. He opened his mouth, but no sound left his lips, the icy fingers of fear choking him. He closed his eyes and steadied himself, preparing to spill his darkest secrets upon reopening them.

“Come, friend,” your hushed voice met his ears. “We are not far from camp. We may speak there.”

With that, the moment was broken. Astarion opened his eyes to see your retreating form, and silently thanked whatever gods still were for the extra time to gather his strength. ______________________________________________________________

Astarion sat alone in his tent, lost in his thoughts. He could hear the chatter and laughter of his companions just beyond its thin walls, but he didn’t even have the heart to observe from afar tonight. He waited in trepidation for you to come find him, drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the closed cover of the book in his lap. Even reading had proven to be an unhelpful distraction.

“Astarion?” 

He recognized the lilt of your soft voice and cleared his throat.

“In here, darling,” he called, unwilling to move, lest his legs were to carry him far from this conversation, far from camp in cowardice.

You parted the flaps of his tent with a small smile, a question in your eyes. He waved at the space in front of him, a silent go ahead to enter and sit. You nodded imperceptibly and sat down, crossing your legs and setting your lyre in your lap.

Astarion raised a brow at the instrument.

“Do you ever go anywhere without that?” he asked, curiosity coloring his voice.

“Never,” you grinned. “It’s the source of my connection to the Weave.”

He scoffed, “A lyre?”

“Well, not the lyre specifically,” you blushed, “but the music it creates. Any instrument will do, but this is my instrument of choice.”

“I see,” he said, though he really didn’t.

“Would you like me to give you an example?” you asked kindly.

“Please, be my guest.”

He watched as your delicate fingers plucked a soft melody on the instrument, caressing the tune from them with practiced ease and fondness. The mellifluous sound of your voice began its harmony, and a sense of peace like he had never known washed over him. He was enchanted by your performance, finding it a strangely intimate experience with no one else to accompany the two of you.

All too soon, the final chord resonated in the cavern of his chest with a quiet hum.

Astarion opened his eyes - not remembering having closed them - and gazed at you. The warm feeling from earlier had returned at the start of the song, and had slowly spread its way through his limbs with each progression until he felt light and fuzzy, an unusual and somewhat dizzying sensation. A slight flush had spread across your cheeks and into the bodice of your nightclothes as he regarded you with a soft expression.

“That was lovely,” he murmured, loath to break the tranquil quiet of the moment.

“A Song of Calm for my tense, toothsome friend,” you smiled, voice lowered to match his own.

“Ah! Well that explains the sudden silence in my mind.” 

He cracked a wry smile and delighted in your answering giggle. Stillness enveloped the tent once more, and your expression morphed into one of concerned sincerity.

Here we go.

“Are you ready to talk?”

“I don’t want to say a damned thing,” he bit out, rage and fear laced in his voice. You recoiled at his tone, and it took conscious effort for him to soften it. “But that won’t do anyone any good.”

You remained silent, waiting patiently for him to continue. He heaved a great, mournful sigh, and began.

“Cazador Szarr is a vampire lord in Baldur’s Gate. The patriarch of his coven and a monster obsessed with power. Not political power or military power - I mean power over people,” he said with carefully construed apathy, “The power to control them completely. He turned me nearly two hundred years ago. I became his spawn and he became my tormentor.”

His eyes had fallen to the space separating him from you, avoiding the questions he knew he was sure to find in yours.

“How were you turned?” you asked in a whisper. “Did he attack you?”

Astarion sighed again.

“Not him, no. A gang of thugs, the Gur,” he sneered, “attacked me, angry about a ruling that I’d handed down as a magistrate.”

“I see. Is that why you were on edge with the hunter today?”

“Indeed. They’d beaten me to death’s door when Cazador appeared. He chased them off and offered to save me. To give me eternal life. Given that my choices were ‘eternal life’ or ‘bleed to death on the street’, I took him up on the offer.” 

He repressed a violent shudder at the memory and ploughed ahead, “It was only afterward that I realized just how long ‘eternity’ could be.”

“I take it he was rather lacking as a master,” you intoned gravely.

“He had me go out into Baldur’s Gate and fetch him the most beautiful souls I could find by whatever means necessary. It was a fun little ritual of his - I’d bring them back and he’d ask me if I wanted to dine with him. And if I said yes, he’d serve me a dead, putrid rat.”

He could still taste it even now, the fetid blood of overripe rodent corpses. He wanted to gag and retch at the thought.

“Of course, if I said no, he’d have me flayed. Hard to say which was worse,” he shrugged matter-of-factly.

“Astarion, that’s terrible. I’m so bloody sorry,” you sniffled.

He looked up at the sound to see the glistening tracks of tears running down your face in the glow of the oil lamp, more yet unshed making your eyes glassy. He didn’t know what he expected your reaction to be, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“Thank you, but this isn’t about the sympathy,” he continued uncomfortably, “it’s about knowing what we might be up against. The Gur hunter won’t be the only one looking for me, what with his favorite plaything being misplaced.”

“Plaything?” you nearly choked.

“Yes, he always did say that my screams sounded sweetest,” he intoned bitterly.

He did not raise his eyes at the sound of your sharp gasp, fearful of what your face would betray.

“Vampire spawn are less than slaves - we’re puppets. All he need do is speak and our bodies obey. The things I’ve done, seen… felt. Well, there are some things better left unsaid,” he finished, voice hollow.

He looked up again to find tears streaming freely down your cheeks, eyes puffy and nose running with your sorrow, the whimpers and sniffles of your sobs echoing in the silence. He was unsure of how to console you, so he simply looked away, giving you time to gather yourself.

“Fuck, m’sorry,” you garbled, and he looked back to see you dashing tears from your eyes. “How insensitive of me. You don’t need my tears to make this wretched retelling any worse.”

“It’s quite alright, dear. It isn’t called a sob story for nothing, after all,” he chuckled, trying for levity to lift the stifling gloom of the atmosphere. His attempt wrested a watery giggle from you, so he considered it a success.

Once your sniffling had died down, a comfortable silence settled over the tent. He had gone back to staring at the empty space of his bedroll between you and him, and a new plan slowly began to unfurl in his mind. You seemed to like him well enough, but was well enough going to keep him safe in the dire straits ahead?

He was broken from his musing by the gentle strings of your lyre, a different melody this time but with a similar effect. The dulcet tones of your harmony flooded him with that strange, tingly warmth again, and he made up his mind in that moment. You were an unalienable ally with your charisma and quiet authority, and he needed to do whatever necessary to stay in your good graces.

Resolute in his decision, he listened intently to your music, laying back on his hands and closing his eyes to bask in the beauty of it. Your songs transitioned smoothly from one into the next, and he soon found himself drifting into his nightly meditation with unprecedented ease. He didn’t even register when the music had stopped, only noticing when your hushed voice temporarily disrupted the blissfully quiet calm of his mind.

“Goodnight, Astarion.” ______________________________________________________________

He rose early the next morning and was pleased to find you already awake. You were breaking your fast with some sludgy gruel the wizard was stirring while Wyll regaled you with animated tales of his heroics. He rolled his eyes at the warlock’s prideful display, but noticed you listening intently, gasping and asking questions at all the perfect intervals. The warlock regarded you with a smile far too fond for his liking, and he found himself calling out to you before he was even sure of what he was going to say.

“Darling, a moment, if you please?”

You gave Wyll a sheepish grin and excused yourself, setting the bowl of lumpy porridge on your stool and sauntering over to him. Astarion snickered to himself at the way the warlock’s face twisted.

“Good morning, Astarion,” you said brightly, smile more radiant than the morning sun.

“Good morning, my sweet. How did you sleep?” he asked, laying the charm on thick.

“Alright, I s’pose. You?”

“Vampires don’t sleep, dear, though I’ll say that last night was the closest I’ve come to it in two centuries,” he replied, trying for his most disarming smile.

“I’m glad to hear it,” you responded softly. “If you’d like to dine with me tonight, I’d be happy to lend my neck.”

Astarion could swear he felt his undead heart give a flutter of a beat before going dormant again.

“Why, there’s nothing I’d love more darling! But, are you sure you’re feeling up to it so soon after the first time?” he asked, his portrayal of concern surprisingly effortless.

He watched as you pulled a pendant out of your decolletage, holding it up so that it glinted in the light. He could feel the faint thrum of the Weave surrounding it.

“I went hunting through my things last night when I remembered I had this. It’s an amulet of restoration. Shadowheart confirmed for me that it will counteract the effects of blood loss,” you beamed.

“My, my. Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, as you noticeably retreated into yourself.

“I only wanted to help,” you mumbled, eyes downcast.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the conversation, Astarion shifted the subject back to the amulet.

“And wherever did you find such a pretty bauble?”

Your answering grimace and accompanying flush was an unexpected reaction.

Oh, this must be good.

“I nicked it from the druid grove,” you said sheepishly.

“Aren’t you full of surprises, my dear,” he responded with a hearty laugh.

“Shut it, Rogue,” you grumbled at him good-naturedly.

“Never! And in answer to your earlier question, I would be more than delighted to dine with you.” He bowed dramatically, earning him a few bright peals of laughter.

“Your tent, or mine?” he purred. He made a show of watching the way your flush deepened and crept its way down into the plunging neckline of your nightclothes.

“Erm, I’d assume you’d be most comfortable in your tent,” you responded, wringing your hands with eyes downcast once more.

Well, that won’t do.

He reached forward slowly so as not to spook you and tucked a finger under your chin, gently raising your face so he could catch your eyes.

“I can make myself comfortable anywhere for you, dear,” he breathed, watching closely as your lips parted in a silent gasp and pupils dilated infinitesimally wider.

Just as he was about to celebrate this small victory, your eyes cinched shut and a pained expression flitted across your face. He dropped his hand instantly, taken aback by the dramatic shift in your reaction.

“S’not you,” you gritted out, confusing him further. You opened your eyes and took a steadying breath.

“Just a bad memory,” you clarified, standing tall in a display of faux confidence.

It was a tactic he knew all too well, and he could see right through it to the rigid way you held yourself. He felt his face fall with a doleful kind of understanding.

She, too, has endured much torment.

“Ah yes, those I am quite familiar with. We all have skeletons in the closet. An unfortunate side effect of living…” he paused, “and unliving, I suppose.”

You chuckled, easing up again.

“I’m taking Lae’zel, Wyll and Gale with me today to look for the missing druid. We’ll let you know what we find,” you changed the subject, meeting his gaze.

He felt a pang of disappointment with the chill of fear quick on its heels and fought to keep his face neutral, but was ultimately unsuccessful. You caught a glimpse of something, however fleeting, in his eyes that turned your countenance steely.

“He won’t have you, Astarion. You don’t need to go back to him,” you said, suddenly vehement in your determination. It only increased his panic.

“You don’t know Cazador,” he relented in a whisper, “He could have spies anywhere. I could be gone long before you make it back. If he finds me, I will have no choice but to return.”

“He won’t find you. You’re safe with me,” you murmured back, reaching out to take his hands. It was an odd sensation, being held, made odder still by your initiation of the contact.

“Then take me with you,” he begged, just shy of desperate.

He could feel your thumbs sweeping over the backs of his hands, no doubt a placating gesture to ease the burn of your next words.

“Not today. You need to rest after yesterday’s events.”

“How rich, coming from you,” he snapped, withdrawing his hands from your grasp abruptly.

He caught the hurt that flashed across your delicate features before you managed to school your expression, straightening your spine and squaring your shoulders.

He sighed in defeat, “I suppose I will see you tonight, then.”

“Tonight,” you nodded and turned to leave.

You took a few steps away from him and paused, turning halfway back toward him.

“And I mean it, Astarion. You are safe with me. I will watch your back, so long as you watch mine.”

With nothing but your parting words for reassurance, Astarion returned to his tent, succumbing to the biting cold of dread’s barbed claws.

#bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion #shadowheart #wyll ravengard #astarion pov #unnamed tav #no use of y/n #reader insert #afab tav #bard tav #trauma #angst #astarion needs a hug #but so does tav #soft astarion #past abuse #past torture #emotional hurt/comfort #emotional manipulation #fluff #slow burn #au canon divergence