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#wyll on the other hand is just so kind
fellowfights · 8 months
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Started playing Baulder's Gate and was looking forward for Tumblr to understand my fasination with Wyll, or at least be discussing his character in any capacity, but I was sadly mistaken.
But of course Tumblr is in love with the vampire. Of course they do. Checks out.
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barbieaiden · 7 months
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my evil dark urge character quickly turned into absolute chaos. well-dressed drow makes every bad decision for her own amusement
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Soft Astarion Jealousy
Now with part 2!
I love Ascended Astarion because he's horrible but the sweetness of the other end of the spectrum is impossible to deny. He's just so in love and grateful I can't 🥺🥺
So here's some jealousy that isn't psychotic. Well it is but not as bad:
Astarion never expected to be the jealous type. He always thought...well. In all honesty he never thought about the reality of having a relationship. He didn't even think it was possible for him, let alone the idea that he would actually want it. Even with you, even after he admitted a fraction of his own feelings to himself, he never thought that he would be so... possessive. Though admittedly, he had very good cause for it.
Because you were frustrating. So, so frustrating. For some idiotic reason, you simply didn't understand how alluring to others you really were. You were a pretty little thing, yes but that wasn't the problem. It was so much more than that. And he knew that the others wanted you. Every last one of them. Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach, Gale, Halsin. All of them like moths to a flame. And that wasn't even counting all of the strangers you had met on your journey, the extras that thought they had a shot with your greatness. They all wanted you in ways that made Astarion seethe. And the desire from others wasn't even the kind that he was used to, the kind he understood like the back of his hand. Because you didn't need to seduce to cultivate desire. All you needed to stoke the flames was merely your presence. Experiencing you was all that was required for people to know they wanted more.
Astarion knew that the others weren't just looking for a bedmate, they wanted you for the same reasons he had grown to. Your empathy, your desire to understand those around you. Your fearlessness, your infuriating habit of always trying to do the right thing. They wanted you for your laugh, the way your eyes would crinkle in the corners when your smile was too wide. Your silly jokes, your endless hopefulness for a future. It felt as though everyone around saw you for the gem that you were and it was... concerning. Extremely concerning.
Astarion hated thinking about things like this. He loathed admitting the truth to himself even more. But he was...terrified of losing you to someone else. Especially since it could so easily be done. He was so very lucky that you weren't the brightest, or at least not when it came to matters of the heart. You could do so much better than him, a fact that was incredibly obvious to everyone around you. Everyone but you, a luck that Astarion did not take lightly. But how much time did he have before it ran out? Would it ever?
Perhaps it was delusional, but he was starting to think when all of this was over, assuming neither of you perished anyway, that...it could just be the two of you. Living together, exploring the world, even if it had to be under the cloak of night. Maybe... maybe the two of you could even find a cure for his unsavory condition. The thought itself was incredibly stupid, but then again, it was just as idiotic to believe that there was a cure to the Mind Flayer parasite. But here they were, closer then ever. And if that was such an impossibility turned into reality, perhaps a vampiric cure wasn't so impossible. Or maybe even finding an alternative method for immortality for you, without the downsides of his own. Anything that could just keep you both together, for as long as possible. It was an unrealistic dream, that would never come into fruition. If anything it was dangerous, so very dangerous to even entertain the thought of forever. Especially when your connection was so tenuous.
Astarion would never be stupid enough to thank Cazador for anything but...he'd be lying if he said he wasn't appreciative for his own lack of subtly when it came to seducing you. Even if it originally was for distasteful reasons, it still got him ahead of the pack. If he had been less calculating, less astute, there was a sincere chance that you would be warming someone else's bed at night. Callousness would never be without it's uses, even if it led to uncomfortable situations like his current infatuation.
What would he do when you inevitably wanted to leave? How could he survive after having something so...good. Someone so caring, someone who for some very horrifying reason liked being around him. And the sex... it was fabulous. He was a massive fan of your intimacy, when he was capable of participating in it. He adored it, he adored you, your beauty, the sweet noises he could coax from your mouth, the europhia of being inside of you. Then there was the fact that you could be intimate without any traces of it devolving into lovemaking. He had never been gifted with the ability to say no before, so often and so freely without a single fear of punishment. If anything, it felt like he was rewarded when he was honest with you, when he would share his sudden fits of discomfort in his own body, the memories that plagued him and doomed him to staying stubbornly soft. You would never get angry, never even disappointed. You would just listen and smile, always adorable when you would ask, "But I can stay for a cuddle, can't I?"
An extremely silly question, considering the two of you hadn't spent a night apart from each other since you'd made it to the Shadowlands. Yet it never failed to make him melt.
It was getting worse, these feelings. He just wanted you around, by his side, constantly. Constant enough for him to get the ridiculous urge to hiss at anyone else who dared to come near you. He felt an intense need to protect the closeness the both of you had cultivated, the kind that he had never been allowed before. He had no interest in sharing you with your own friends when it came down to it, let alone another lover.
Which is precisely why his original, mild distaste for Halsin turned into a full-blown hatred the night he had the gall to proposition you.
It had felt like a shard of ice going through his chest when you bounded over to him, laughing about one of his greatest fears coming much too close to reality, "You won't believe the conversation Halsin and I just had-"
"Ah, I was wondering when you were going to ask me about that," Astarion laughed, purposefully interrupting you. He had no desire to hear the specifics of that conversation. He didn't even want to be having this conversation, where you were inevitably going to ask if it was okay to explore someone else.
The answer was no. Never would he be okay with it, allowing someone else to be close to what should have been his. But he needed to think strategically here. To say no could be disasterous. If it became a game of choice between him and Halsin... he's almost certain he would lose. Halsin was everything he wasn't; caring, giving, sharing in your worldviews in a way that Astarion never could. He couldn't risk it, he wouldn't. Having you at all was better than nothing.
"But I'd never even consider something like that-"
"It's fine," Astarion interrupts again, the fakest smile he can muster plastered on his face. The pain was worth the risk mitigation, he was sure of that. But... he still had to ask, "But is this because we haven't...y'know, in awhile?"
A sick part of him prays that you'll say yes. Because if that's the reason, he could do something about it. He could force himself if need be to always tend to your needs. Especially if it meant keeping you to himself. It was such a small sacrifice in comparison to the rest of his life. He would do it in a heartbeat if you demanded, anything to just make you stay.
But that was not the answer he received. Instead you frowned, looking him up and down, "What? No, I-Astarion no. Please don't think that. What we have together is so special to me. The physical part of it is lovely, perfect even. But...it's not what we are."
It's almost comforting to hear you say that. But then why did that make the situation feel so much worse? If it wasn't sex you were after then that certainly meant you wanted more with Halsin as well, did it not? But it was too late to rescind it now.
Astarion nodded, a confused mixture of hurt and gratefulness swirling through him, "I just needed to know. But if you're satisfied with me and just want to explore, go right ahead. I'll be here when you're done."
You nodded slowly, brow furrowed when you asked, "So...we aren't exclusive then?"
"No, of course not," Astarion confirmed, ignoring everything inside of him that was screaming for him to take it all back, "We can be as open as you'd like."
"I see..." You said, trailing off with a frown. You coughed into your hand, looking up at him sharply. Sharp enough for him to be sincerely confused, "Does this mean that you'll be speaking to me before you explore your other options?"
"I-yes? If you want?" Astarion answered, a new type of unease settling in his chest. You didn't seem very happy with this conversation, despite his best attempts to give you what you wanted. Where had he gone wrong? Was he already working to throw you into the arm's of another man, without even trying?
You were still frowning at him, your look cold in a way that made him feel particularly ill, "Please do. I'd like to know everything. I'm going to speak to Halsin, get this all sorted. We can talk later."
And then you were spinning on your heel and marching away, like Astarion was the offensive party here. It made no sense. He had done it all right, hadn't he? Agreed to it immediately, didn't make you feel guilty, had tried to be what you wanted. How had he failed?
He didn't wait around to see you go to Halsin. Instead he went straight back to his tent, closing the flap as he laid down. Great. Fantastic. Now he would have to be aware, perhaps even hear you being with another, while simultaneously reliving that horrid conversation in his head for the entire night. The hurt and worry was making his mind wander to uncomfortable places. Perhaps...Halsin could be dealt with in another way if things became too serious between the two of you.
Would poisoning the man be too extreme?
But before Astarion had the time to start thinking of a more detailed plan he was interrupted. Suddnely, moonlight was filling his tent, with your silleoute shining in the darkness.
He blinked up at you, confused, "What are you doing here?"
You frowned at him, looking hesitant in the entry way, "Should I not be? I thought-I can go if you'd like."
"No!" Astarion blurted out, loud and desperate enough to make him cringe. He cleared his throat, trying again, his voice still a touch too pitiful for his liking, "No, no, come here darling. Of course you're always welcome. I just assumed you would be busy."
To his relief you listened, crawling into the bedroll next to him. Astarion didn't waste any time in wrapping his arms around you, relieved to humiliating degrees that you had chosen to come back after the deed. Though...you didn't quite smell as he had thought you would. There were no traces of the floral, woodsy smell of the druid on your skin. Just the sweet, pleasant scent that he had grown so fond of.
You sighed as he tucked you against him, the warmth of you enough to make him relax for the first time that night. You laid together in a pleasant quiet, one that Astarion was actually scared to disturb. Despite the fact that he desperately wanted to know what happened between the two of you.
But you broke the silence for him, muttering into his chest after the two of you were settled, "I'm...sorry for being snappish earlier. I shouldn't have been. You didn't do anything wrong, and I know I don't own you. I shouldn't have assumed."
Astarion frowned, pulling back to get a proper look at your face. You looked hurt, sad even. Like you were the one who had gotten their heart broken. He could feel a curl of distaste settling in his stomach, annoyed that this felt as though the situation was being placed back to him. He had played his part, perfectly. What more could you ask for? What was there to assume?
"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Astarion carefully said, his eyes fixed on every micro expression on your face, "What did I do that could have been construed as incorrect?"
"Nothing!" You rushed to say, shame coloring your cheeks, "I was being stupid. You never promised me anything. I just...assumed. Wrongly that we were something we aren't."
That didn't-he-what? Astarion frowned at her, his confusion evident on his face, "What did you think we were?"
You looked uncomfortable, avoiding his gaze when you answered, "I thought that we were...together. Alone. Just us. But if that's not what you want I understand. It's fine-"
"What in the hells are you talking about?" Astarion blurted out, his anger and pain bubbling to the surface, "I haven't done a thing. And we were just us before you decided to galivant off with a bear of a man!"
He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. So much for playing things safely. No, he couldn't even have the self-control to stay quiet. He always had to ruin everything.
But surprisingly, you didn't look angry. If anything you seemed just as confused as he felt, "What? I didn't-we didn't do anything! When did I say I wanted to do anything with Halsin? You were the one saying you didn't care!"
You weren't making any damn sense, "Well why else would you ask me about it?"
"I didn't!" You huffed, glaring at him, "All I was going to say was that he asked me. And I wanted your help on how to best turn him down! And then you jumped at the chance to push me onto someone else-"
"I did nothing of the sort!" Astarion seethed back, "If it was up to me you would never look at another man again! Or woman for that matter!"
It was an odd feeling, to be arguing while holding each other so closely. But Astarion had no intention of letting you go anytime soon, even if he could feel you squirming against his ironclad grip when you fumed at him, "Then why would you say it was okay?!"
"Because I don't want you to leave me!" He shouted back, loud enough to snap him out of his own anger. All of his fury was instantly replaced with fear. Gods, why had he felt the need to say that? To lay his biggest insecurity out on the line. Why not just hand you a stake while he was at it, since he was so eager to give you the tools to destroy him.
But you were still seething, hissing back at him, "Why praytell, would I leave the man I've been in love with for months? Hm? Please, explain it to me!"
Astarion couldn't. He was too busy being shell-shocked at the confession, feeling too many emotions at once. Joy, relief, somehow even more fear than before. You so freely said the words that he had done his damndest to bury, to ignore. But now they were out there, filling him with a horrifying joy.
He wanted to say it back. He did. But he couldn't get the wrecthed words out. Instead he was just staring at you like an imbeicle, his mouth hanging opening at the confession.
But his silence didn't make you falter. Instead you looked determined, near fierce as you grasped his face into your warm hands, "I love you Astarion. You don't have to say it back. That's not what this is about. But I want you. And only you. If you want the same of me then you must tell me. Now."
Astarion let his hands flutter over your wrists, humiliating tears prickling at his eyes. But at least his vocal chords allowed him to answer you this time, "I do. So much more than you know. I want us. Just us. No one else."
The words were flowing out of him, too fast and sincere for him to make the appropriate edits in his head. He was saying too much, feeling too much, giving too much. But the way your eyes brightened at his words, the way you grinned at him before pulling him in for a sweet kiss made it suddenly feel like he wasn't giving anything up at all.
As much as he loathed to admit it, Astarion was exceedingly grateful for Halsin's existence after that night. He would never have had the gall to demand you to himself without a trigger, without the anger you both shared at being misunderstood. Because now, you were his. His alone, the proclamation coming from your own lips. And he was free to stop hiding how much he had wanted it. How willing he was to do anything to keep it. He let himself off his own leash after that, leaning completely into the mutual ownership you had of each other. No more would he silently sit back and seethe as a stranger flirted with you. No, now he'd be upfront and center, with a possessive hand around your waist as he glared them down, more than prepared with a confidence-shattering quip on his tongue.
He started to let all of his urges seep through, taking full advantage of your willingness. If Wyll looked at you for too long at the fire, with a touch of something that Astarion didn't like in his eyes, he'd effortlessly pull you into his lap onlookers be damned as breathed you in. If Gale suddenly had a suspect offer to teach you some new magic in a secluded location, Astarion would invite himself, impervious to any glares sent his way. And when he felt as though all of them were being a bit too flirtaious, he was more than happy to put them in their places at night. Spending hours upon hours making you scream his name in bed from pleasure, loud enough for everyone to hear and know exactly who you belonged to.
He couldn't care less if it added to his own unpopularity amongst their merry-band of rejects. Their opinions didn't matter. Not when you were eating all of the sudden attention up.
You let him do it all because you understood him, in ways that no one else had bothered to before. You knew who he was, what he wanted, the extent to how much he craved your attention. And you let it all happened, reveled in it even. The intense shows of affection. Because you loved him. And he loved you. And one of these days he'd allow himself to admit the obvious.
But for now, he had what he wanted. What he needed. And in the first time in his life, even with disgusting tadpoles squirming his his brain, Astarion was actually...happy.
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Mating Season
Halsin x Female Reader | sexual frustration | sexual tension | growly bear halsin | totally adoring halsin | horny bear mating instincts | semi-shifted sex | fluff | smut | nsfw
How Halsin’s romance might have played out if we could have had his kisses, adoration, and been totally railed senseless by Oak Daddy from the end of Act I. An ode to Halsin’s hairy chest, big arms, and the vein that I know stands out so thickly on his *muffled horny noises*
After a long and tiring day of fighting off goblins as you search for the Githyanki Crèche, you groan in relief as you sink into the cool waters of the river. Everyone else is back at camp and you’re able to enjoy the currents swirling around your naked body. 
You float in the water, thinking about how much your party has grown in the past few weeks. First Shadowheart, Gale, and Astarion, then Lae’zel, Wyll, and Karlach, and finally Halsin, the wildshape druid you rescued from the goblins. He’s a focused member of the group, a valuable healer, and an unstoppable force in battle. You occasionally feel things turning against you in a fight, and then Halsin is there, supporting the group and laying down swathes of flame, lightning and ice. His bear shape never fails to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies. 
Around the fire at night, he talks openly about his quest to free the Shadow-Cursed lands, his admiration for the party, and his praise for your leadership. His gentle words about you have your body prickling with awareness of his. 
That warm smile of his. His large and clever hands. His deep, gentle voice. Everything about this man makes you tingle all the way down to your toes. Whenever you think his gaze is lingering on your mouth, he murmurs goodnight to you and leaves your side. You watch him go, wishing that instead he would reach out and touch you.
An angry, snarling sound fills the air and you sit up in the water. Not far from you, an enormous bear, grunting and breathing hard, walks heavily down the riverbank. It’s huge, and its muscular body blocking out the setting sun, and from the noises it's making and its attitude, it’s a hair's-breadth from lashing out at anything that moves. 
You freeze, not daring even to breathe, hoping with everything you have that the animal will turn around and head back the other way. Instead, it launches itself into the water with an almighty splash. 
As it disappears beneath the surface, you notice a faint scar over the bear’s right eye, as if it’s been clawed. You recognize that scar. 
Wait, is this--
Golden light flashes. The water seethes. A man stands up where there was a bear just moments ago, water cascading from his body. Halsin, and he must have stripped before he changed into wildshape for now he’s completely naked, standing hip-deep in the water. 
He’s partly turned away from you but you can tell his manner is no less worked up than it was in bear form. He swipes his hands angrily through his dripping hair and breathes hard, the muscles of his shoulders and arms clenched in frustration. 
Halsin is one of the gentlest-natured men you’ve ever met, most of the time. Like nature, he too can be wild, his eyes flashing and his voice breaking like thunder over you when he’s frustrated or disappointed, such as when he was remonstrating Kagha for the Rite of Thorns. How magnificent he was that day. 
But what is he restless for now? He stands in the water, looking around at the forest, gripped with frustration, and when he turns a little more your way you can see that the root of his cock is thickened in a tell-tale manner. 
Ah. 
That kind of frustration. 
You quietly make your way to the edge of the river where a willow tree is trailing in the water, moving as carefully and as quietly as you can. This feels like a private moment you’re intruding on. Even though you don’t mean to spy, it feels like you are. The fronds of the willow provide a little cover for you, and hopefully Halsin will cool off and leave the way he came. 
The dice do not roll your way this evening as he approaches you, seeking deeper water. A moment later, your gazes lock, and his eyes widen in surprise.
‘What are you doing there?’
‘I wasn’t spying on you,’ you tell him quickly. ‘I thought you needed some peace, so I was waiting here quietly.’
His eyes run over you, your back pressed against the river bank and cowering amid the willow leaves. 
Halsin heaves a regretful sigh. ‘I frightened you, didn’t I? I am sorry. It’s all right, I am myself again.’ 
He smiles and holds out his hand. It’s a tight smile, like he’s forcing it for you, but you’re no longer worried a bear is about to disembowel you.  
You place your cool fingers into his large, hot ones and let him draw you slowly out of your hiding place. The water is deep enough here that your nakedness is covered, and so is his.
You relax as you gaze up at him, enjoying the sensation of Halsin holding your hand. Quietly enjoying the sight of his bare chest and handsome face. You hope he might walk you into the shallows so you can be naked together, but he remains in deep water, sunk in thought.
‘The river is yours. I’ll leave you to enjoy it,’ you murmur, and glance to where you left your clothes. 
Halsin’s fingers are still tightly twined through yours beneath the water. He seems to be in a world of his own as he gazes at your mouth, your throat, the droplets of water sliding through your wet hair and down your shoulders. A world that includes you. A world where you’re touching one another. 
‘Halsin?’ you ask tentatively. Hopefully. If he wants to move closer and kiss you, that’s more than okay with you. After a long and dusty day, there’s nothing you’d like more than exploring his body in the cool water. That hairy chest of his. His hard muscles. You long to run your tongue over him. Flex your fingers on his biceps. Trace the red tattoo on his cheek.
Halsin comes back into himself with a deep inhale, and he lets go of your hand. ‘Then I’ll see you back at camp.’ He moves away from you through the currents. 
As you push the water from your body and dress in your clothes, you search for Halsin in the river, but he’s disappeared around a bend. 
***
Later around the campfire, you’re hyper aware of Halsin as you talk with Gale about his home in Baldur’s Gate. Halsin is silent, the campfire flickering over his handsome face. You try not to pay him any more attention than you do the others, but your interest in him has spilled over into blazing attraction.
Your gazes lock and Halsin’s brows are drawn tightly together. 
Is he glaring at you? 
A moment later he gets to his feet and, unnoticed by the others, slips away into the darkness. Something’s eating at that man and you wish you knew what.
A short time later, you take a bottle down to the river to refill it with water before turning and heading for your bed. As you round the corner of the ruin where you’ve made your camp, you run straight into Halsin. 
His eyes widen and they flare with heat and surprise, and then he quickly looks away and moves past you.
‘Have I done something to make you angry with me?’ you call after him. 
Halsin stops dead. He stares straight ahead for a moment, and then slowly turns to you, shaking his head. ‘Far from it. I am worked up and frustrated, but not with anger.’
Maybe his frustrations are because of you, and that’s a thought you don’t know what to do with when he keeps avoiding you. 
Not knowing what else to say, you tell him, ‘We will free the Shadow-Cursed lands soon. I know we will.’
He breathes out heavily, his expression troubled. ‘I’m not thinking of the Shadow-Curse right now, even though I should be. It is more important than anything I...’ He trails off, but his gaze lingers on your mouth. ‘...want.’
Halsin steps closer, and you feel the heat blazing off his chest. His warmth and bulk are so welcoming and you crave to reach out and touch him. The backs of his fingers caress your hair. The lightest of touches. Then he takes a handful of your hair and dips his head, bringing the strands to his nose. 
‘You smell wonderful.’ He heaves a deep sigh, and whispers, ‘Can I hold you for a moment?’
That sounds lovely to you, and you nod. 
Halsin wraps an arm around your waist, scoops you against him, and buries his face in your neck. ‘By Silvanus, your scent is sweet,’ he groans. ‘I caught it when we first met, in that foul goblin nest. How it pleased me. Getting to know you these past few weeks has been even sweeter.’
Your hands are plastered against his chest and so is your body. He’s saying everything you hoped to hear. More than you hoped to hear. He has such a beautiful way with words. You turn your head so he can kiss you, but he still refrains. 
Taking a ragged breath, he releases you and steps back. ‘I’m sorry. It’s always difficult this time of year.’
You miss his warmth so much that you shiver. ‘What time of year?’
He gazes at you for a long time. ‘You may laugh, but I’ll tell you. It’s bear mating season.’
You don’t laugh, but your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
‘I know--I’m no bear,’ Halsin says with a laugh of his own, ‘but I spend so much time in wildshape that bear instincts tug on my heart and...other parts of me. I return to my own form and unfortunately the needs do not dissipate. In fact, they worsen, because it is not a bear I want. When she comes close to me smelling like spring and honey and warm sunshine I can’t help but crave her.’ A smile glimmers on his lips.
Enough being vague. You want to hear him say it. You step closer and put a hand against his chest. ‘A general someone, or anyone in particular?’
He groans softly and captures your face in his hands. He drinks you in and swipes his thumb across your lips. The gesture is soft, and full of the promise of his kiss.
‘You are someone I admire and I think I could grow to care deeply about,’ he murmurs. ‘I care about you so much already. Any little scratch you receive I want to push Shadowheart out of the way and tend to you myself.’
Your heart soars.
‘But this isn’t how or when I wanted to begin anything with you. I have to walk away.’
Disappointment plummets through you. 
He’s still holding your face and his expression is conflicted. It seems he wants to put an end to this for now but can’t bring himself to do it. 
‘I can walk away, if that helps?’
His eyes fill with gratitude and longing. ‘Please. That would be a mercy. Know that when the time comes, I will come to you with more than lust in my heart.’
You nod, trailing your fingers down his chest as you step back, but you fail to see what’s wrong with him desiring you. ‘Whatever you need. Of course.’
‘I hope I haven’t offended you.’
You smile gently at him. ‘Your desire is so far from offensive. Please know that I don’t demand more of your attention than you’re willing to give. The Shadow Cursed lands are your priority and I’m...’ How to put this delicately? I’m here for you and you can rail me senseless in between your duties whenever you want to let off steam. That’s what you want to say, but you’re too shy to say it. ‘...Here. Your friend. Always.’
Halsin seems to catch your meaning anyway as his jaw flexes and he nods slowly. 
You promised him you would walk away, and you do, and though you give him ample time to allow him to pull you back, the next sound you hear is a clash and a growl, and a flare of golden light. When you glance over your shoulder, a bear is thundering into the woods on all fours. 
***
A few days later, you’re returning to camp feeling like you’ve been put through a meat grinder, and your companions haven’t fared much better. Gale is unusually silent and covered in blood. Shadowheart is exhausted and dragging her feet. You’re trying not to limp because she and Halsin have already cast so much healing magic. Something’s wrong with your leg, but you’ll see to it yourself when you’re alone. 
The others bid you tired farewells as they head for their tents, but someone catches your arm and holds you back.
‘Oak Father, you’re bleeding. Why didn’t you say anything?’ 
Halsin is staring at your legs, and you stare with him. Blood is pooling around your foot. Oh, that’s not good. 
‘I can tend to it myself after I’ve had some rest--’
Your words are cut off as the massive druid picks you up in his arms and carries you into a crumbling barn. Automatically, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean against the solid bulk of his chest. Halsin lays you down on a pallet and helps you remove your armour, revealing a ragged gash on the top of your thigh. Your clothes have to be cut away until your legs are bare.
Halsin looks exhausted and has dark circles under his eyes. It seems he’s been taking little rest as he roams the forests nightly as a bear. When he reaches for you to lay healing hands on your wound, you place a hand on his wrist.
‘You don’t have to do this right now. I’ll bandage myself up and someone can heal me after they’ve rested.’
Halsin raises challenging eyebrows at you. ‘You believe I don’t have the strength to heal you myself? That I’ll walk away from the most important person in my life and leave her bleeding?’
You moisten your lips, trying not to show how much his words have affected you. The most important person in his life? Suddenly you don’t feel injured at all, and he hasn’t even healed you yet.
‘I have more than enough magic left for this. Now, lay back and let me do my work, and then you can get back to yours.’
You settle back on the pallet and gaze at the cobwebby rafters. Halsin’s hands hover over your thigh, and a warm, delicious feeling spreads through your leg, and then up between your thighs. Your head falls back in relief and pleasure. 
Even Halsin makes a surprised noise. ‘That felt...’ He rubs your now-healed high, massaging the last of the tension and pain from your muscles. ‘That felt different. How’s your thigh now?’ 
You can’t help but moan and arch your back a little at his touch. ‘Good.’ Your voice comes out in a breathy whisper.
‘Just good?’ He strokes his palm over where there was a cut just moments ago. 
‘Halsin, please, you make me feel heavenly,’ you whimper. The words pass your lips without thinking. You reach up to take hold of his shoulders so you can pull him down to kiss you, but pull back before you can touch him. 
This isn’t what he wants. Your hands clench on the pallet, feeling your core ache with need. As soon as he leaves, you can get yourself off thinking about him. 
‘Would you like me to go?’ he asks softly. 
‘I never want you to go.’
His hand rests lightly on your leg. 
You open your eyes and gaze up at him, and he’s sitting so close to you. ‘But if you stay, you’re going to see me touching myself.’ Then you smile at him, remembering your last conversation. ‘I would love for you to see that. As a friend.’
You want him to see you. You want him to participate.
He smiles and leans down to you, and runs the blade of his nose up your cheek. ‘I can’t think of anything more wonderful after a long, hard day, my dear friend.’
Halsin lays down beside you and props his head against his fist. With gentle fingers, he helps you to drag your underwear down your legs and cast them aside. As your teeth sink into your lower lip, you gently touch yourself, your eyes on his handsome face. Halsin strokes your thighs, your stomach, finds the fastenings on your clothes and loosens them. As he pulls back your bodice, revealing your breasts, he lowers his head to take one of your nipples in his mouth. 
You cry out and flex up into him. Heat is gathering within you. You suck on your lower lip and release it. ‘Please--your fingers--I need--’ you manage between pants. You can barely get the words out, but he understands. Halsin drags two fingers through your sex, making them slippery, and then sinks them inside you. 
Another loud cry from you. Gods, he feels perfect.
Halsin groans and kisses your throat, murmuring, ‘You’re so tight around me. Have you been as frustrated as I am?’ He pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, slowly at first, and then faster.
Yes you have, the godsdamned stubborn bear of man. He should have pulled you into his arms that day in the river and let you suck all the frustration from his body out through his cock. 
‘So frustrated,’ you whimper. ‘Please, that feels so good. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.’ 
He brushes his lips over yours. ‘I won’t stop. You’re always so beautiful, but like this, all of nature pales in comparison.’
You reach down and lay your hand over his wrist, adoring the tension and flex of his muscles in his arm as he moves inside you. Your fingers keep moving on your clit as you moan and cry out his name, and when you come you dig your nails into his flesh, and press your feet into the ground so he can fuck you even harder with his fingers.
When you fall back exhausted, Halsin sits up and spreads your thighs open, trailing his fingers over your sex and drinking in the sight of you as you catch your breath. ‘Your body is wondrous.’ He leans over and kisses you, his tongue caressing yours. ‘Will you rest well tonight?’ 
You nod, feeling drunk from his kiss and your climax. 
He smiles. ‘Then I’ll rest well too, knowing that you’re sleeping soundly. Thank you for sharing this beautiful moment with me.’
As he sits up, you notice that he’s hard inside his tight pants. Excessively hard. Huge in fact. He shouldn’t be leaving, he should be pulling off his clothes and pounding the living daylights out of you until he also gets the release he needs. 
But he’s gone before you can call him back to you. That’s not why he just blew your mind, was it? He healed you, and now he wants you to get some rest. Druid’s orders, apparently. 
You smile and roll over, and fall into a doze. 
***
The next morning, before anyone has arisen, Halsin finds you coming back from the river. You smile at him, thinking he looks so handsome in the morning light, and you expect him to keep moving past you. Instead, he stops and smiles at you, as if basking in the sight of you is all he wants right now. 
‘May I have a kiss?’ you ask hopefully. Perhaps he’s decided not to want anything for himself right now, but he still wants to make you happy. 
Without needing to be asked twice, Halsin grasps you around the waist with his large hands and walks you back against the wall, kissing you enthusiastically. ‘I can still smell you on my fingers this morning. I could smell you all night. You are a delight.’
Your lips part for his so he can kiss you even deeper. With your arms around his neck, you revel in the sensation of his mouth on yours. 
‘I find you irresistible.’ Another kiss. ‘But we have much to do today.’ Another kiss. 
‘We do,’ you say, smiling as he kisses you again. 
He gazes down at you for a moment, a slight frown between his brows. ‘If you need more, know that I won’t be offended if you take another lover. Nature intends for us to roam and be free.’
You have considered that, if not someone at camp, then a handsome stranger at a tavern, but you’d only be thinking about Halsin the whole time. ‘And if I don’t want to?’
‘You must do as pleases you,’ he replies, and kisses you again.
You guess that he didn’t tell you this for idle reasons, but to let you know about his own preferences. You reach up and stroke your fingers through his russet hair. ‘I have always wanted my own person, but to roam with them. Share everything with them. I would miss you too much if I was to roam without you.’
He smiles down at you. ‘Us, with others? I would like that, in time. You’re more than enough for me, but I wouldn’t wish for you to be denied anything. Seeing you with another lover, and participating as well...it sounds wonderful.’ Then he steps away from you. ‘But we are getting ahead of ourselves. My thoughts turn to other things for now. But they will turn back to you.’
With a final warm squeeze of your hand, he leaves you, but your heart is lighter than it’s been in a long time. 
***
Two nights later, you’re awoken by snarling and roaring in the distance, and you sit bolt upright. It sounds like two large animals are fighting in the woods. 
Only Astarion is awake. ‘What a ridiculous racket,’ he mutters with a scowl, before licking his thumb and turning the page of the book he’s reading. 
You look over at Halsin’s pallet, knowing it’s going to be empty before you lay eyes on it, but your stomach drops just the same when you see that it is. You scramble to your feet and set off at a run into the darkness. 
You follow the roaring and snarling and it doesn’t take long to find two bears fighting with teeth bared and swipes of their claws. You recognise Halsin from the scars over his eye.
What can you do to help him? A spell? A cantrip?  
Before you can decide, Halsin swipes the other bear so hard across the snout that it reels back, and then turns and runs away into the woods. 
Halsin paces up and down for a moment, and then golden light ripples, nearly blinding you, and when you open your eyes again, he’s striding toward you. His chest is heaving and blood is pouring from scratches and bites across his shoulders and throat. Nothing life threatening, but he’d be in pain if he wasn’t so angry.
‘That bear was looking for a mate, and I wasn’t having it prowling around her when I haven’t even tasted her myself.’
Halsin when he’s feeling himself wouldn’t say something so uncharacteristically possessive. It must be the mating season instincts overriding his natural feelings. ‘That bear wouldn’t have been interested in me.’ Also, you could have tasted me by now if you’d wanted to.
He doesn’t seem to have heard you as he glares into the darkness. Suddenly, he rounds on you. ‘It’s dangerous out here. You shouldn’t have come. Go back to bed.’
You fold your arms and stay where you are. The big alpha bear can throw his weight around, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to jump to obey his commands. ‘Shouldn’t have come? Would you have ignored me if I was being attacked in the woods?’
Halsin takes a deep breath and some of the anger melts from his face. He pushes his hands through his hair and shakes his head. ‘Of course not, I would never abandon you like that. Thank you for coming out here to help me. I promise I’m not ungrateful. I’m all out of sorts because...’ He gestures vaguely at himself and the woods around you both. 
You smile at him. ‘I know. It’s mating season.’
You help him pick dirt and gravel out of his cuts before he casts healing magic on himself, but you’re not ready to leave him and go to bed. The river is close by and you take his hand and lead him to the water. 
‘Let’s wash the blood and dirt off you.’
At the riverbank, hesitantly you reach for his clothes. He says nothing but he’s watching you with such intensity, and so you find the fastenings and help him out of them. With gentle fingers, he does the same for you. The night air is warm and still. Crickets are chirping and the river makes gentle rushing noises. The two of you are standing so close that you’re breathing each other’s breaths. His massive chest lifts and falls. Your nipples tighten with awareness of him. You don’t want to stare but you can’t help but look at this beautiful man as you undress him. 
Halsin helps you out of your underwear, and his cock bumps against your thigh. He’s so hard that he’s standing to attention, his foreskin drawn back, a drop of pre-cum at the tip. Your mouth waters, and you want to run your tongue along the thick vein that stands out on his shaft.
‘Sorry. Ignore me,’ he mutters. 
You don’t want to ignore the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen, but you keep your hands to yourself and look up at him. ‘I want to feel flattered. Should I feel flattered?’
‘You know I think you’re wonderful,’ he breathes, caressing your face. 
Oh, by all the gods, then fuck me, please. 
‘Would you want me even if it wasn’t mating season?’
‘Of course I would, though I’d probably be better at keeping that to myself. You wouldn’t awaken to hear me fighting other bears in the woods, or see me staring at you with longing across the campfire. I’d still feel the same way, but I wouldn’t be so obvious about it. Probably.’
‘Do you mind that mating season makes you feel and act this way?’
He smiles and shakes his head. ‘It is who I am, and another connection I have to nature.’
‘Halsin. For a wildshape druid who believes in going with what’s natural, you’re very stubborn about resisting what your body is telling you it wants.’
A smile curves his lips. ‘You may be right. I’ve told myself that focusing on the Shadow Curse is the right and only thing to do, but...’
Halsin ducks his head and slants his mouth over yours. The kiss is so fierce and sudden, and pleasure takes a swan dive through your body. He wraps his arms around you and gathers you to him.
‘This isn’t how I imagined things between us,’ he murmurs. ‘I intended to come to you after the curse is lifted and declare my feelings for you, and tell you that my unburdened heart is yours.’ 
‘Please still do that,’ you breathe, planting soft kisses again and again on his mouth. ‘I would love that. But don’t walk away from me now.’ 
‘You want me, even though my mind is often on things other than you?’
What a romantic Halsin is, wanting to give you his whole heart at once, or nothing at all. ‘Of course I do,’ you tell him, your fingers stroking his bare back. You don’t need that declaration yet. You just need him. 
Halsin lifts you in his arms and carries you into the water, gazing into your eyes. The water flows around your bodies as he kisses you and places you on your feet.
He nods at something over your shoulder. ‘I have to taste you. Turn around and put your hands on that rock.’
You do as he asks, standing thighs-deep in the water and bent over with your hands braced against the river bank. Halsin kneels down in the water and cups your ass. 
‘So beautiful...’ You feel his tongue run up your sex, and you moan and close your eyes. He’s slow and languorous about it. Not trying to make you come, just tasting you thoroughly and enjoying the sensation of you against his tongue. 
Halsin stands up and when you glance over your shoulder you see him gazing at your sex as he strokes you with his fingers and fists his cock slowly up and down. 
‘Can I have you, sweet one?’ he asks huskily. 
‘Please, gods, yes .’ You’ll go crazy if he holds back a moment longer.
You feel him step closer, and the blunt head of his cock slides against your slippery entrance. He feels alarmingly thick and you take a deep breath and try to relax. 
With a muttered oath, he sinks into you. As much of him as he can, anyway. Gods, he’s a lot . You walk your feet apart, trying to accommodate more of him. 
‘Too much?’ he asks, hesitating. 
You shake your head desperately. ‘Not too much. More, please.’
He fucks you slowly, working himself deeper by delicious increments, while your cries fill the night air along with his ragged breathing. His blunt nails scratch your flesh. He roughly squeezes handfuls of your ass. 
You reach down between your legs and touch yourself, and you grow wetter and wetter, allowing him to fuck you in long, smooth strokes. Every single one makes your insides light up. Your orgasm is barrelling down on you surprisingly fast. 
‘Please, fuck me hard, I’m going to come,’ you beg him. 
Halsin groans and takes your hips in a secure grip and slams into you, over and over, hard, brutal and heavenly thrusts. You push against the rock to hold you steady as a wild, untamable sensation crashes over you, and you cry out loud enough for the whole forest to hear you. 
Your head is hanging low and you’re panting as you feel Halsin draw out of you.
‘But you haven’t come,’ you protest, straightening up and turning around. It’s what you want, to see and feel this beautiful man let go. 
He takes your hand and helps you out of the river. ‘I’m not done with you yet.’
He lays back on the grass and pulls you astride him so your thighs are straddling him. ‘I want to see you like this as well.’
Hungry for more, you grasp his cock and sink down his length. Halsin groans and his head tips back, and he squeezes both your breasts in his large hands. His throat is so beautiful, and so is his chest. You draw patterns in his chest hair as you move up and down his length. 
Weeks of frustration and wanting him haven’t been fulfilled by one climax, and soon you feel another one gathering within you. He watches you with a smile as you desperately moan and pant his name. As your cries reach a crescendo, Halsin plants his feet securely against the ground and pushes sharply up into you, over and over, making you shatter around him even harder than before.
You collapse forward on his chest, weakened and helpless, his cock still lodged deep inside you. 
‘That was wonderful,’ you moan, your cheek plastered against his chest. ‘Give me a moment and we can change positions. I’m not stopping until you come.’
He rubs circles on your back. ‘I think I might shift into wildshape if we keep going. I can feel the need getting stronger and stronger.’ 
‘I don’t mind. Your bear form is pretty sexy.’
He laughs softly, a surprised sound. ‘Really? I’m pleased you think so.’
Even sexier is the way he looks while he’s changing, his body even bulkier and hair sprouting everywhere. ‘Can you change part ways?’
His hand stops moving on your back as he considers this. ‘I can. I think it might be easier for me to maintain that, rather than one or the other.’
Halsin rolls you both over until you’re on your back in the grass and pinned beneath him. With a heavy hand on your inner thigh, he pushes your knees up to your chest and thrusts deeper, and then again. 
‘By Silvanus, you feel wonderful,’ he pants.
A ripple goes through his body. His eyes turn fiercely golden. The hair thickens across his chest and spreads over his shoulders and down his arms. His top lip pulls back from his teeth, revealing thick incisors. His cock swells to what feels like twice its size inside you. You gaze at him in wonder. He looks incredible like this. 
As he continues to pump his cock into you, you press your hands against his muscular, hairy stomach, struggling to accommodate all of him. 
‘I’m hurting you,’ he realises, his voice more growl than words. ‘I can change back.’
‘No, don’t stop. Just slow down for a moment. It’s a good problem to have.’ You reach down to the place where you’re joined and wrap your fingers around his slippery thickness. Gods, that’s wonderful. So is his bulk looming over you and the rich, animal scent of his body. He thrusts carefully, watching you closely, his golden gaze roaming over you. 
‘So beautiful, sweet one,’ he rumbles. ‘Are you sure you like me like this?’
‘Yes, oh gods, yes.’
With every thrust, it’s getting easier for him to slide his whole length deep inside you, and pleasure stabs through you every time he bottoms out. 
You reach up and cup his furred cheek. ‘I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even sexier like this. How does it feel for you?’
He groans and seems to take courage from your words. ‘Like I’m finally free. No longer fighting what I crave.’ The speed of his thrusts pick up, and he devours you hungrily. ‘You’re so good to me.’  
His breathing becomes a throaty snarl. His claws dig lovingly into your thigh. His hips move in a relentless rhythm, long thrusts, and then shorter, urgent ones, and you can tell he’s nearing his peak. You hold onto his shoulders for dear life as his body stiffens and his climax breaks through him, and he throws his head back.
With a groan, he sinks down onto his elbow and buries his face in your throat. As you hold him tight, you feel him shift back to his human form, his skin smooth and damp with perspiration. 
Halsin lifts his head and kisses you. ‘I’ve never done anything like that before. Was it all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?’
You hasten to assure him that he didn’t and it was everything you wanted.
He smiles. ‘How wonderful you are.’
You stroke his sweaty hair back. Neither have I. You’re so beautiful always, and especially seeing you like that, through wildshape eyes.’
He rolls onto his side in the grass and wraps both his arms around you, keeping you tight against his chest. ‘I shouldn’t have been so stubborn. The world feels so much better now I have you in my arms.’
‘How long does mating season last?’ you ask. You hope it’s a long time, and he needs you often. 
He laughs, a deep sound reverberating through his chest. ‘It’s every moment I lay eyes on you, sweet one.’
‘I hope that I haven’t distracted you from your duties.’
He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. ‘I’m more motivated than ever.’
You lay like that together in the grass until Halsin feels your cooling body shiver. 
He helps you to your feet and draws you into his arms for one last, tender kiss. Cradling your face in his hands, he murmurs, ‘You are the person I admire most in the world. I feel honoured by every moment I spend by your side.’ He kisses you again. ‘Know that I can’t wait until I’m able to tell you that my whole heart is yours.’
Thank you so much for reading. Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think! Or tell me how the Halsin brainrot is affecting you while playing BG3. I have just about no braincells left by now. Only Daddy Bear remains. 
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limpfisted · 6 months
Text
something great about wyll is like. how patient he is with other ppl. he NEVER expects them to be as good and kind as he is, and yet he still is patient and understanding with them. he has SEVEN YEARS of experience on the road, he can pierce a goblin all the way thru, hes got a +4 to animal handling, a +4 to intimidation, and yet with all his experience, he NEVER intimidates you. never even goes “get out of the way. let me do it.”
answer gale’s quiz incorrectly? thats alright, champ, “i think you meant—“ “easy mistake, i think it’s—“
lick the spider? thats interesting. keep licking the spider? thats ok chief. hope you learned ur lesson sowing your wild oats. (wyll also approves of licking the spider LOL.)
put ur hand in a weird hole? he loves wandering hands! but think more carefully next time.
you can hear theo solomon smile into every word
he calls the tiefling kids heroes for learning to fight
astarion says hes going to eat people and wyll doesn’t threaten to stake him—(nor does he when astarion actually bites him, even tho he teases from his very first reaction to astarion that hes ‘all bite.’) he says, youll have to settle for vagrant chickens. i imagine wyll would even help him chase some down.
wyll is respectful of the githyanki and lae’zel for being fearsome warriors, despite the war crimes
if you kill alfira, he doesnt blame you, he doesnt call you a monster, he simply mourns her loss, and genuinely understqnds the violence in you, and offers to help you redirect it
there are so many times wyll could just kill the dark urge/astarion and be done with it, and hes fully capable of doing so
and yet he CHOOSES to be kind, he chooses to help, he chooses to be a friend and a supportive “role model” in his own way. and he doesn’t make choices for people. he makes comments, sometimes sly, sometimes judgemental
but despite his extreme sense of righteousness. wyll is an extremely tolerant person who is generous with his kindness. he is careful with his words despite 99% of his dialogue being him being a silly goose. he is encouraging and so so so sweet
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eyebagshawty · 5 months
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Hello! May I request Lae’zel, Karlach, and whoever else you want to write being washed by the reader. I find the idea of bathing and taking care of someone to be really sweet.
Headcanons + Blurbs for Being Taken Care of/Washed by Tav
A/N: Hello! Sorry for just getting around to requests and other things now, the end of the semester got pretty crazy (at least I passed everything !) and now I’m finally able to focus and get out of this rut. Thank you for your patience and I hope you like it!
Characters: Lae’zel, Karlach, Shadowheart, Wyll, Gale, Astarion, Halsin
Part 2
Lae’zel
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• When you first offer to wash up with Lae’zel she’s mostly confused and kind of annoyed - there’s already a tadpole in her head, and that’s enough lack of privacy.
• “Chk. At my crèche these things are normal. However, you istiks insist on attaching emotional meaning to such things… no.”
• However the more she thinks about it… you two have shared a bed more than once. She respects you more than the others; when she tells you to speak she also makes sure you know she will listen. She supposes that maybe connection wouldn’t be so bad with you of all people.
• She just walks up to your tent, grabs your hand, and says “Fine.”
You meet her at the waterfront and- is she nervous? Her gaze wavers between you and the night sky, feet firmly planted into the ground and arms across her armored chest. You get most of your armor off, but that last clasp just has to give you trouble. “Lae’zel, could you help me out with this?” It’s silent for a tension filled moment, and you’re about to ask again.
“Chk.” She walks over and with ease undoes the clasp. She’s back to feet firmly planted and arms crossed, only looking at the sky. You unfurl your hair from its practical braid and keep your eyes on her. “I wish I could show you the Tears.” Your eyes widen when you think about the first night she invited you to her bunk, how hard getting used to this unusual plane must be for her. You place your hand on her shoulder and she tenses, but relaxes after she’s brought back to the moment.
“I wish I could see them.” You whisper to her. You ‘help’ her out of her armor (she’s just letting you at this point, she could’ve been out of it in 30 seconds flat) and you both hiss as you enter the cold water. After a soft and asking touch, she allows you to undo her hair and wash it. You gather her hair gently into your hands and have her lean back to the water. As she does, you can see that she clearly hasn’t been this vulnerable in maybe ever. You give a soothing stroke to her scalp and she hums. As you lather the looted soap into her hair and scratch your nails lightly, you hear her sniffle.
“Lae’zel… are you alright?” You stop your ministrations but keep a hand cupped at the back of her neck.
“My-my queen is false. I will never ascend. Tsk’va, I’m an enemy to my kin. I don’t want to be on this plane anymore… I miss the astral. I must fight but I do not know how to keep going.” She quickly wipes her tears and looks at you. “Speak, source of my bruises. I will always listen.”
With her hair looking clean, you slowly move the bar between her shoulder blades and move it in soothing circles. You kiss her temple. “My love, this situation is quite a mess. Tadpoles in our heads, endless injuries, and I cannot imagine what this world must be like for someone who has never been in it. We will get through this. I’m here. I’m yours.” With that she shows an inkling of a smile as she stares into the water in thought. You continue to bathe her with soft kisses in between every swipe of soap along with words of reassurance. You are hers, the source of her bruises.
Karlach
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•Once Karlach is able to touch people again, she is ecstatic to wash up with you. She’s barely been able to keep her hands off of you since, so when you offer she squeals.
• “Of fucking course soldier! Who knows, we might even be able to turn that river into a hot spring.” Her eyebrows waggle and your face goes beet red.
• When you meet her she definitely cannonballs into the water and complains when it’s shallow
• “Aw hells, that’s gonna be a kink to work out in the morning.”
• You guys don’t bathe for a good 15 minutes, she’s just kissing you and rubbing your sides and it’s so SWEET
She breaks away from the kiss and wades further into the water. You grab the soap from the grass and follow after, settling your arms around her neck and wrapping your legs around her waist. Her fingers come up to pinch your nose and she flops backwards into the water, leaving both of you sopping wet when she comes back up. “Gods Karlach you’re gonna kill me,” you sputter as you cough out the bit of water that got in your mouth. She pats your back and lets out a full bellied laugh.
“That’s right soldier get it all out,” she grins. You shoot her a playful glare. When your collective giggles finally die down, you bring the bar of soap up to her hair and begin lathering and spreading it with your fingers. Her eyes close with a serene smile. You make sure to get the area around her horns, and she kisses your cheeks as you take care of them. “You know… after Gortash. After… Avernus. Nobody has taken care of me like this in so long. So fucking long.” She sighs as you bring the bar to her neck and chest, taking away the near pints of blood the party had spilled earlier.
“I’ll make sure it never is that way again. I love you, and no matter what happens you deserve to be free from all of this.” You meet her gaze as the bar moves to her shoulders, and you see fear.
“Tav… my heart.” She lets out a choked sob and a tear streams down her cheek that you immediately wipe away. “I finally have you after so godsdamn long, and I don’t want to lose what’s most important. Not again. I’m just so scared.” She breaks down into tears and her skin heats up warmly under your skin. You crush her into your chest and she buries her face into your neck, where you rub soothing circles into her scalp along with kisses.
“You won’t lose me. Whether it be in Baldurs Gate or Avernus, I’ll be here.” She lifts her head and you kiss her nose, where a little flame sparks and then snuffs out. She lets out a soft chuckle as her mood cools. “I promise to you we’re gonna kill that pathetic little fucker and anyone who helped him.” Her lips meet yours and you kiss back with eager passion. As you pull away you go back to soothingly rubbing the bar across the planes of her back.
“Wait- didn’t you grab this soap off a dead guy?! GROSS soldier!”
Shadowheart
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•She immediately says no
•Not because she doesn’t trust you, she just can’t swim and finds it a bit embarrassing for her powerful presence
•After you finally convince her it’ll only be where she can stand, she agrees.
• “A bottle of wine, my lover, and a nice grassy beach? It’ll do,” she gives a sarcastic but playful smile.
•You two get plastered on Chultan Fireswill before you hop in
After one last swig from the bottle Shadowheart takes your hand and leads you into the water. You stop at around three feet deep and get to your knees. Her braid whips around her shoulder as she serenely begins to scrub away blood with the soap bar. “I love this silver color so much. It illuminates you as some would say,” you utter softly, and she chuckles. She slowly takes her hair out of the braid’s confines and your jaw drops at how long and pretty it is as it flows down her back. You look pointedly to the bar of soap. “May I?”
She squints at you in playful suspicion then smiles. “You may.” You lather the soap into her hair and she lays her head back into your chest as you scratch lovingly at her scalp. She brings her hand up to your cheek behind her and whispers, “The moon looks beautiful tonight.” As soon as the words leave her lips the wound in her hand opens. She hisses and sits back up. As she looks back to you, her gaze looks broken. “After everything I’ve been through with the dark lady, I don’t think this will ever go away.”
You inch your hand closer to hers, placing your pinkies over each other. “It’s horrible… what she did to you.” She grins bitterly but moves to interlace your fingers, rubbing the back of your hand with her thumb.
“I just wish I could remember any of that horrible stuff. I want to be angry. But mostly I’m only numb. She was… she was everything to me. And although it is horrible yes, it’s all so new. Being away from her.”
She nods in confirmation as you move the bar of soap to her chest, the motions soothing her and making her eyes soften as she watches you. “I understand,” you whisper as you lean up to kiss the shell of her pointed ear. That’s all that needs to be said, Shadowheart thinks to herself. You’ve become more than her greatest companion in her eyes, she trusts you’ll be there through thick and thin. “We’ll just have to make new memories,” you smile, and as you finish rubbing the soap across her body you throw it back to the grass, pulling her into a loving kiss as she wraps her arms around your neck.
Wyll
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•When you offer to wash up with Wyll a MASSIVE blush runs across his cheeks
• “Are you sure? ImsurethehornsfreakyououtandtheresbumpsinotherstrangeplacesIdontwantyou-“ he basically starts talking at a mile a minute about how it might be awkward for you
• “Wyll honey, I can just meet you there while you’re already in if that’s more comfortable for you” and you give him a sweet smile and his face goes red AGAIN
By the time you get to the waterfront, you see Wyll propped against a rock, the water resting at waist level with his arms propping him up. You throw him a shy smile. He has a sly grin and nods your way, beckoning you towards him. You twirl your finger and mouth, “Turn around!” He lets out a silent chuckle and turns his head towards the mountains beyond the lake.
You slide out of your evening clothes and grab the soap bar laying on top of your towel. As you wade further into the water you let out a shriek — it wasn’t winter right? Wyll turns around and laughs at the sight; you’re rubbing your arms with chattering teeth. “It is quite frigid tonight, huh? I think I’ve got a cantrip in me for a special someone.”
You look around, bemused, as to how spells could possibly help you out here. Wyll shoots a fireball into the depths of the water, your skin instantly warming up. However, it doesn’t last long as the lake cools back down to freezing. You swim at the speed of light over to Wyll and wrap your arms around his neck. “Sorry, I just need something. By the nine hells you think a blizzard would be rolling through,” you laugh. When you’ve warmed up enough, you take the bar of soap and gingerly begin to wash and lather his hair and horns, kissing the scars across his face.
Wyll looks down at you, surprise slathered across his face as you finish up with his head and move to his broad shoulders, kissing everything infernal you can find. “Tav…you like this?” He brings up a hand to your cheek as you continue your ministrations. You cup water in your hands and gently rinse away the soap on his chest.
“Of course I do, Mizora could make you look fully cambion and I would still have the strongest of feelings for you. You’ll always be my dashing, strong, Blade of Frontiers,” you peck his neck with each last word, and he laughs, kissing your forehead with a soft cherishing smile.
Gale
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• When you offer to Gale, he gives you the most devious look you’ve ever seen
• He hasn’t been around others for so long till now, much less bathing with anyone, and he’s grown pretty strong feelings for you so he love love loves this idea
• “My dear Tav I would love to! You know how I enjoy your body after a battle, all the sweat covering your skin and the flush of your cheeks”
• He’s not your quietest companion so everybody does hear this and everybody does let out an exasperated groan
• Your face flushes even further than when you asked him and you squeak out an okay and run to your tent
When you meet up with Gale at the waterfront, his tunic is already off, showing his surprisingly wonderful muscles. He kisses you upon greeting, and helps you out of your evening clothes with a soft caress here and there on every part of your body. You grab your soap and lead him into the water, the water being just warm enough for your plans.
He gathers you into his lap, his cheeks a light red as he grins up at you. You lather the soap and scrub it into his hair, listening to his groans and praises as you work. You kiss his cheeks as you move to his chest, and he finally opens his eyes again, looking up at you with those big round puppy eyes.
“This is surprisingly wonderful. I remember doing things like this for her, running water through her hair and lathering the finest oils onto her skin, but she never once did anything for me.” You stop your work, looking up to his eyes with an expression of shock and sadness. His eyes bore just as strongly into yours, and his thumbs rub circles into your hips.
“Gale… you are worthy of being loved. What she did to you wasn’t right — it never was, even from the beginning if I’m getting my facts straight. She isolated and took from you. I never want you to feel like that with me.” You kiss his cheeks and his hairline, and his lips follow yours, chasing to press them together.
They finally do, and his kiss is filled with eager passion, pouring every thought he’s had about you into you. When you pull away he lets out a soft whine, bringing his hand to your neck. “I’m in love with you, darling. And I know and trust that you feel the same, any need of the tadpole be damned.” You smile and begin to continue rubbing the soap into his stomach, but he stops you. He brings his lips to yours once more, and he rolls you over onto your back in the water, letting you prove how loved he is.
Astarion
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• His eyes go soft and round when you ask him
• “Really?? Little old me??” Even after the graveyard and all your reassurances, he’s still moving towards actual coupley things
• “You’ve never wanted a luxurious meal and bath together my love?” You take his hand stroke his fingers with care
• If he could blush he would, but he just sputters with the goblet of wine he has
• He collects himself back into charming mode, “Well then, I thought you’d never ask. Come find me when you’re ready.” He kisses your cheeks and literally just walks off into the woods, leaving you standing at the entrance to your shared tent looking absolutely befuddled
When you find him at the hot spring the camp had discovered last night, he’s already in the water with his eyes closed angling his head towards the night sky. His ears twitch as he hears you begin to take off your evening clothes, and his eyes open to look at you with a rakish smile. “Why hello, my treasure. The water feels amazing.” You smile, grab your soap and head in. Immediately you groan with relief, the hot water soothing the aches from your nasty fight with some undead earlier.
Astarion moves closer to you, taking the most warmth he can get. You bring your arms around his neck and just stay there for a minute. He hugs you back, burying his face into the crook in your shoulder. You fingers lightly stroke against his raised scars in a loving motion, and after his breath hitches he melts into your touch, practically purring as you lavish him with affection. When you pull away his loss of heat is devastating. However, he calms down when you begin to wash his hair, scratching at his scalp and running the hot water over his curls.
“I don’t think I’ve ever let anyone touch my hair like this,” he mumbles. You kiss his cheek and move the bar to his chest and shoulders, working out any aches and pains he might have.
“Well, now you have me my love,” you whisper, kissing the tip of his ear.
“I just can’t believe that after everything you want to stay. The sky is beautiful tonight, but it is all I will ever know once this mindflayer business is said and done with.” His words are bitter, almost as if he is angry with himself.
“It is all we will know my love. And I’m actually quite the night owl. As much as I love our ragtag group, I’m quite introverted around most of society. Everything is fine,” you kiss his bite marks, the hollows of his cheeks, and finally his lips. He kisses you back fervently, pouring care he was never able to show for anyone else previously. You pull away and finish gently washing the rest of his body in silence. As you prop your neck to the side for him, he looks at you with an expression akin to great offense.
“Darling! I thought you knew me well enough to know the bath is never over after only soap.” He waves his hand over to the small crate of oils he’d brought to the spring. “Now, I’m feeling lavender tonight. How about you my love?”
You give him a beaming smile, wading out of the spring to retrieve it. “Sounds wonderful, my heart.”
Halsin
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• You don’t even really have to ask him, he’s just joined you most of the time to protect you
• He doesn’t like you venturing out in to the woods by yourself, because Silvanus help him a lot of people are after you guys
• “Of course my heart — Scratch is licking at his paw a bit so I need to inspect that, but I will join you in just a couple of minutes.”
• With an encouraging woof from Scratch, you caress his shoulder and go to collect your things
You’ve stuffed all the stuff needed for the bath into two large bags, your arms making you crouch downward with the weight. As Halsin walks to meet you he sees this, chuckles, and wild shapes into his bear form. He takes the bag handles into his mouth and nudges your leg with his snout. You pet his head and hop onto his back, him letting you ride on it as you both make your way to the water.
On arrival, you hop off and he drops the items into the grass. As his bear form is used most in combat, you grab out a bottle of soap you’d nicked off of that crazy dog handler in Rivington. You drizzle it all over his fur and gather some of the river water into a bucket. You begin scrubbing the soap into his fur, and he lets out cute little groans and growls. When you finish you dump the bucket of water onto him, and he lets out a noise of surprise. He turns back into regular Halsin, his hair soaked down against his head with playful exasperation.
“My heart, you did not need to release the full power of a waterfall onto me I assure you.” You laugh and beckon him into the water. He wades in and smothers you with kisses.
“Halsin please! I need to breathe!” You giggle, pushing at his chest. He finally settles down, pulling you into his lap.
“Thank you for helping me with the shadow curse. Thaniel he… he needed us. He needed you.” He settles into a somber smile, nuzzling his nose against your temple.
You trace your fingers across his chest, leaving kisses that follow. “I knew the lands needed our help, and I’m glad he’s free from the curse. All we have left is this elder brain, and we can go back to the grove and live in peace.”
He tilts your chin up with his hand, and looks tenderly into your eyes. “I would be blessed by Silvanus to spend my thousands of years with you.” He crashes his lips into yours, one of many you’ll share over the passage of time.
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blkgirl-writing · 5 months
Text
The massive list of SFW and NSFW Gale Dekarios headcanons
Gale of Waterdeep x Reader (Gn! for the most part)
A/N: the more I write Gale, the more in love with him I am. I started this before patch 5 and haven't been able to play it myself, so whoopsies if I just have to make another one of these. Lots of requests included in this one, to be expanded on later!
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Gale is the most caring partner in the whole group. Followed by karlach and Wyll
He would much rather do everything for you than anything for him
This means he often over extends himself for you and you have to convince him to let you help him
Quality time and words of affirmation are his main love languages. All he wants is time alone with you, and he will do so much to make that happen
Gale actually sets up his tent to be as comfortable as possible because you don't have your own tent, and he doesn't mind at all if you sleep in his
eventually you basically just sleep in his tent exclusively, platonically at the moment. Sleeping on other sides or with a blanket between you
It isn't until you wake up from a particularly bad nightmare that your accidental touches aren't followed by apologies. Not quite embracing but not flinching away
He held you that night, wrapping his arms around you, his hands were big, soft, and comforting. He didn't speak until you did, who knows how long that was. All he said was "You're safe. It's ok."
────⊱⁜⊰────
He truly believes he doesn’t deserve you and that weighs kind of heavy on him
That shows in his body movements, confidence, still hesitant to be close to you physically in an extremely subtle way
With more flirting, more talking, more late nights close together, but still apart, still a gap in your embrace
Gale is still in touch with his sexuality and sex, but sex is different than love making. And he knew, when he fully let you in, when he’s finally stable and his mind, body, and soul were ready, he’d make love to you
Your first time together was for the most part, pretty talked through. You set your boundaries and safe word pretty fast
He’d stop at some point, pull back and just admire you
Stop is used lightly because he’s definitely still inside you and just very slowly still pumping in and out of you
“You’re absolutely ravishing.”
And he’d give himself fully to you
Gods he’d be all over you after, so touchy, even if not sexual in nature, any tough felt electric
Gale holds your waist more than your hand, it feels more romantic, showing you off to the world as someone that chose him. It’s really sweet, the first time he does it, he hand trembled a bit, he thought he was smooth enough for you not to tell but you could definitely feel it
Don’t get me wrong, he is confident and cocky at times, everyone knows that. But with you somehow, he feels nervous that you deserve more than he could give
Part of your early relationship is making sure he knows he’s wanted and loved and more than anything you could have wished for
────⊱⁜⊰────
Cuddling is always fun because it usually end up with fucking
If you’re the big spoon? He becomes such an angel and snuggles into your touch
If he’s big spoon he’s immediately turned on by everything, you being so close into him, your ass pressed against him, so many beautiful places for him to touch
Always ends in side fucking, just pulling your underwear down just enough to grind his cock on your bare ass
It’s also just convenient and easy if you’re getting busy while the others are sleeping in camp
But many days your time has you weak and just ready for rest, but you're both more horny than tired
that's when mutual masturbation becomes a daily routine, which never really leaves, even when you aren't as tired and have more privacy
he likes you call you his cherished work of art, seeing you spread for him is like a painting
────⊱⁜⊰────
One night in baldurs gate, you stay up into the morning drinking and talking in a bar, they only kicked you out when they literally were an hour last close, keeping it open because you had bought so much
It was literally anything, just talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Past pets, stupid haircuts growing up, embarrassing failures
That was the night everyone else really realized how deeply in love you two were
Like sure there was romance but real true love, with sparks
They absolutely made fun of you when you finally stumbled to your camp and passed out all day crammed into the small one person beds
I like to believe Astarion drew a stick figure version of y’all’s sleeping position to make fun of you when you woke
────⊱⁜⊰────
Once you’ve moved in with him he gets more and more turned on by you every day
You could be doing nothing and he’d grab your thigh and give you such a dirty look of lust
Not even three months in and ya'll have fucked on every surface possible, knocked over many books, and accidentally broke a vase and a bit in the shower
For the most part, your cozy days consist of him reading, and you beside him, feet resting on his lap
If you're a bard, of course he's going to ask you to practice and play around him and while you relax together, his favorite sounds all come from your sweet melodies
if you drink you definitely share a bottle of wine throughout the day
When Gale get's tipsy he just gets lovey and nerdy
telling you about a favorite bit of history or a spell, interrupting himself to compliment you "Gods you're beautiful, have I told you that today, dear?" and "And that's how the stars fell in love with- that top is stunning my love, mind if I take it off?"
cooking is fun yet very stressful unless he has a drink in hand
it's his kitchen and he's not used to company in it, so he often bumps into you or doesn't know where to say something is, so he just ends up getting it for you
I have a feeling this man is super into coffee and the roasts
like he's an absolute snob over it. A whole glass cupboard is dedicated to bags of coffee from where ever he travels
"Just too dark of a roast, it muddies the hazelnut flavor" (yes I believe he's a whole bean light roast lover)
Maybe you get a normal, non-speaking cat for yourself and just to have a bigger family in your home
I'd imagine a very reckless black or ginger cat who tara takes a VERY long time to love
but it's your and Gales cat. It's a thing you own together and love dearly
There's also a self of cards, board games, etc, for your date nights in
Gale legitimately is just as happy if you win than if he, if not more happy for you
He often takes a while to take his turn because he's distracted by you
super sweet but makes games feel much longer
────⊱⁜⊰────
@shyminnie07 @makers-breath @claryvoyantfray @black-sapphic @fapqueen
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vixstarria · 7 months
Text
"Where my nice, simple plan fell apart"
This is my take on how Astarion’s romance might have progressed with a silly, chaotic energy bard Tav, who doesn’t really fall for his initial manipulation but rather humours it, throughout Act 1.  
There will be more – I want to flesh this out and write more ‘behind the scenes’ moments, and continue this into Acts 2 and 3 (I’m still only at the beginning of Act 2 as I write this!) 
Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav  
Comfort, fluff, budding love, cuddling, humour, no spoilers, non-explicit, light angst 
Approximately 2,000 words. 
~~~~~
“Let’s find our own little piece of nowhere. Somewhere we can lose ourselves and forget all this madness.” 
“Astarion, you insufferable trollop, what piece of cheap pulp did you fish that line from?!” you squeezed your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. “No, wait, let me guess... Madame Scarlett?” 
You watched his face turn from indignation to irritation, to finally settle in a resigned amusement, in a rapid succession.  
“My, a fellow connoisseur of the vulgar arts? The Madame’s been dead and out of print for over a century. But yes.” 
“A professional interest – a bard must be able to entertain all kinds of audiences, with all kinds of material” 
“And would you indulge me with your expertise tonight? But I do much prefer show to tell...”.  
This was the beginning. You did end up sleeping with him that night, despite his initial soppy attempt at seduction. And then it happened again another night. And then it kept happening... 
You tried to be discreet about it at first, but of course it wasn’t long before the other members of your party noticed your nightly disappearances, and there was no point trying to conceal it.  
You were vexed by their reactions – just about everyone found it necessary to at one point pull you aside and express their concerns about the vampire, asking you to be careful. This was, perhaps, justifiable – Astarion was admittedly quite stab-happy and had an inclination for bloodthirst (literally and figuratively). But he was on your side! And damned if you needed anyone’s approval for your choices in whom to bed! 
By that point you and Astarion had turned the cliched language of poorly written erotica novels into an inside joke. Casually addressing each other in increasingly mawkish and over-elaborate terms had turned into a game. Once the secret of your escapades was out, you weaponised this game, turning it to deliberately exasperate everyone around you with your antics. 
With your shared penchant for dramatic flair the two of you became utterly insufferable.  
You would shout corny names at each other across camp: 
“Oh precious, it’s your turn to set up the campfire! And no, I don’t care that you won’t be eating with us” you called out as the group stopped for the day to set up camp, but no answer followed. “My silver lynx..? Starry?? Snickerdoodle??” 
“Your snickerdoodle wandered off to slaughter another bear!” came an exasperated shout from Wyll. 
Strangers weren’t safe from your hijinks either:  
“My sun, my beating heart, flame of my loins, ache of my head. All my riches, at your feet”, he declaimed to you in front of a confused and embarrassed vendor, as he rummaged through and shook out his pockets and sleeves, spilling an assortment of semi-precious gems, silver cutlery and somehow even an entire silver tray, pilfered from an abandoned manor you came across earlier. 
Just to make the others uncomfortable, you would unceremoniously plop into Astarion’s lap at any given opportunity, including in your morning meetings to establish your itinerary for the day.  
One evening, as you all sat around the campfire to enjoy a shared meal, Astarion (who would ordinarily stay away during this time, or sit nearby with a book) sank down next to you, lifted your hand towards his mouth, and nonchalantly sank his fangs into your wrist and began to suck, slurping.  
“Oh, so I can’t enjoy a nice meal with everyone else, and have to be excluded? Bigots, the lot of you!” he chided, your blood dripping from his lips, to the sound of everyone’s shouts of shocked revulsion. Surprisingly, this was the closest you’d ever seen Lae’zel come to laughing.  
(You and Astarion had arranged this prior, of course. Ever the gentleman, he always asked before he bit.) 
Another night, as you were having a quiet chat with Shadowheart at her tent, while everyone else lounged at the fire, she asked: “So what is it like with him, really..? How is he?” 
Suddenly finding yourself abashed by this genuinely intimate question, you covered it up with pomp and bravado. Winking at Shadowheart, you stood up, threw your head back and began to orate, making sure your thundering voice would be heard by the fire, which you had been separated from by a distance and some bushes: 
“HIS MAGESTIC MANHOOD, WHEN UNSHEATHED, IS AN OBELISC OF MASCULINITY AND GLORY. IT IS A WONDER BIRDS DON’T CRASH INTO IT WHEN IT IS FULLY E- Ow! Who threw that?!” 
A projectile salami from your camp supplies came flying from behind the bushes, and slammed into the side of your face.  
All hell was breaking loose back at the campfire, as Wyll, Gale and a smug Astarion convulsed and shouted through poorly concealed laughter, blaming each other for the missile, as Karlach shook in hysterics and Lae’zel complimented the mystery thrower’s accuracy.  
Gale did look more sheepish than the rest once you started to develop a black eye from the impact, promptly healed by Shadowheart.  
What was it like with him? 
Despite the flowery epithets and exaggerated displays of affection you awarded each other in public, in private you had a mutual understanding that it was all frivolous, no strings play. You had a parasite that could turn you into a mind flayer at any given moment, twisting in your brain. Every day bore violent encounters. Since the nautiloid crash, you hadn’t gone a single day without something trying to murder you. You didn’t want to have to worry about anything other than survival, and you took life day by day. Distractions were welcome, but actual romantic attachment would be a burden, you told yourself. 
You thought of it as being friends with extended benefits.  
You let him feed (well, snack, really) on you, of course. It wasn’t sexual, not since the first night. He used your wrist, so as not to be overwhelmed by the blood flow. He ended the sessions by healing you himself, assisted by a magical trinket he’d picked up somewhere on your journey. You made sure not to let Gale get his hands on that one.  
In battles his arrows always picked off foes in your immediate vicinity, before they were directed to other targets. You’ve yelled at him for this, saying you were more than capable of holding your own, whilst you’d lost count of the revivify scrolls you’ve spent on Gale.  
“Yes, well, the way the man goes on about his ‘natural talents’ and ‘mastery of the weave’, you’d think he’d put that big wise brain of his to developing a strategy for not getting stabbed so often” - Astarion rolled his eyes. “I’m just encouraging him to improve, really. And besides”, his eyes narrowed, “only I’m allowed to spill your blood, darling”. You frowned at that last bit, as he flashed you a sweet and almost innocent smile, and stalked off.   
As for the other ‘benefits’ - the sex was intricate, if somewhat mechanic, almost too skillful on his behalf. Wanting more passion than efficiency, you eventually asked him to talk dirty to you. That made it nearly too intense for you to handle, and seemed to keep him more... personally engaged. During daytime you had to force yourself not to get caught up in flashbacks of his red eyes watching you writhe as he described what he was doing to you, what he was going to do to you, or how you looked while he worked your body. 
The night that you, wanting to reciprocate, asked him exactly how he wanted to be pleasured and what he liked was a fiasco. You didn’t understand why. First he said something about being able to please you being his greatest reward and satisfaction (which you immediately shut down). Then he grew flustered and irritated, becoming uncharacteristically at a loss for words. You tried to divert the conversation, but the mood was unsalvageably ruined.  
There was one takeaway from that debacle, however. After abandoning the idea of sex for the night, you laid next to each other, talking about nothing in particular: Baldur’s Gate, places you were both familiar with, comforts you were looking forward to having again. At one point he looked at his jacket, which you’d been lying on, and lamented that he couldn’t find any gold thread to fix the embroidery. You laughed and rolled over to give him a hug, and simply never let go. He wordlessly pulled you closer once it was clear you had no intention of leaving. That was the first time that you fell asleep and slept through the night in his arms. 
This became somewhat of a ritual, or another game with unspoken rules. Once you were done with each other, you’d pretend to quickly fall asleep with your face nested in the crook of his neck, or to otherwise be too exhausted to get up and make way to your own tent or bedroll. He pretended not to notice the regularity with which this was happening. You pretended not to notice the soft kisses he started leaving on your neck or forehead once he thought you were really asleep. It seemed... important, somehow, that you both pointedly refused to acknowledge any of it. You sensed that otherwise a certain line would be crossed. 
Last night, you were too exhausted to even think of anything but sleep by the time everyone started turning in for the night. Yet rest wasn’t even on the horizon for you – you remembered that you’d neglected to clean your weapons and carry out the well overdue maintenance on your equipment, which you did not allow anyone else to touch even when offered. You were planning to venture into the shadow-cursed lands the following day. You couldn’t afford to be sloppy. You begrudgingly set about your tasks. Astarion was as tired as everyone else, you figured it was needless to say you’d spend the night apart. And yet...  
“I guess I finally get my bedroll all to myself tonight, how delightful” you heard behind you. “No one to wrap themselves around me, no one nuzzling into my neck... Only free, undisturbed personal space” You heard a hint of dejection beneath the sarcasm, and something in your stomach flipped, giving you pause.  
“I’ll come back for a cuddle if you say please” you murmured over your shoulder. 
“Never!” he rasped in a perfect imitation of Lae’zel when you asked the same of her before freeing her from a tiefling cage, and disappeared into his tent. 
Over an hour later, as you collapsed into your own bedroll, you saw a pair of red eyes staring at you from across the camp, tent flap ajar. You held Astarion’s gaze.  
“Please”, he mouthed soundlessly, smiling as he lifted the edge of his blanket.  
Within moments, you slipped into his embrace, pressing your lips against his. But his kisses were gentle and feather light, lacking the usual persistent neediness.  
You pulled away from him, locking eyes as he softly ran his hand down your cheek, brushing your lower lip with his thumb. 
“Gods, you’re beautiful” he breathed. 
That night he fell asleep with his head against your chest, listening to the sound of your heartbeat.  
Your breath caught in a silent sob as you were overwhelmed by a bittersweet realization of how much you really stood to lose if you failed in the journey still ahead of you. You didn’t think you’d ever felt happier or more miserable before in your life, as you hugged him tighter. 
~~~~~
Next in series
AO3
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Text
.⋆。Let Me Be Your Bear。⋆.
Halsin x plus size reader (Tav)
An accident involving a fiery touch and your beloved stuffed teddy leads you to something wonderful
Warnings: Tav!reader, fluff, mutual pining, daddy Halsin, cuddling, reader has no specified gender or pronouns
WC: 782
Minors DNI
Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library
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It had been an accident really. You knew Karlach was just curious about the small stuffed animal that was sitting on top of your open pack, she didn’t mean to turn it to ash as soon as she touched it and you didn’t resent her for it, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t break your heart just a little bit. 
Especially now as you lay by the dying fire, clutching a small bag Wyll had given you for the ashes tightly to your chest in some vain attempt to receive the same warmth the toy had given you before. You knew it was silly, it was just a small bear you found at the beginning of your journey but it was comforting on the darkest of nights when you were stuck with your thoughts or nursing some wound. 
Sighing, you rolled over onto your back and came face-to-face with the massive druid who was standing over you, looking at you curiously. You inhaled sharply in shock, clutching the bag even tighter. Halsin just tilted his head. “Why are you holding a pouch?” 
Heat crawled up your neck in embarrassment. “It’s dumb.” You mumbled, but his sensitive ears caught each word. Firelight flickered over his face yet the light in his eyes was even brighter.
“You can tell me you know. I have been told I am a good listener.” You sighed, patting the ground beside your bed roll. With no hesitation, Halsin took a seat beside you, his muscular thigh only a few inches from your soft one. 
Your fingers toyed with the small braided rope that tied the top of the pouch together, the ends already frayed from your nervous fiddling. “It was my bear, it was accidentally burned up which I understand, it wasn’t deliberate. But I can’t sleep without it.” 
Halsin hummed under his breath and you braced yourself from some teasing remark (perhaps you were spending too much time with Astarion) but it never came. Instead, the druid smiled softly at you. “Perhaps, you would allow me to help, with your permission of course.” He must’ve noticed your confused expression because he quickly spoke again. “I think you forget, I myself am a bear.”
Realisation dawned on you then, which was quickly followed by bashfulness. He was offering to let you cuddle him just so you could sleep. That of itself was an enticing offer, he was an incredibly handsome man, only a fool would deny that. But more than his outward appearance, he had a gentle and kind soul, one you had quickly fallen for.
“You don’t have to.” You replied but Halsin laid one massive palm on top of your knuckles, easily enveloping your much smaller hands.
“I want to.” No other words were needed. He pulled away from you just far enough for him to shift without hurting you as his eyes began to glow a beautiful gold. You blinked and suddenly there was a brown bear standing before you. He huffed and nudged your shoulder, pushing you to lay back down.
You didn’t even notice as the pouch slipped off your lap, too focused on the way that Halsin’s huge front legs now straddled your wide hips as he himself lay down between your legs. A soft groan was forced from your lips when he placed his head onto your soft stomach but it wasn’t uncomfortable, far from it actually. His weight on top of you eased the tension throughout your body and you quickly found yourself overwhelmed with exhaustion.
He gazed at you with emotions you couldn’t quite comprehend, watching with some satisfaction as you relaxed beneath him.
Your arms curled around his head as best you could, rubbing one of his ears between your fingers. He gave a satisfied groan, his black eyes shutting. “Thank you.” You whispered and he nuzzled further into you, almost purring as your closed your eyes.
“What in the bloody hells are you doing!” Astarion’s shrill voice cut through the tranquillity of the morning, startling you from your surprisingly deep slumber. Hot breath fanned across your face as the massive bear on top of you growled before settling back to sleep, his huge maw resting on your sternum.
“Sleeping.” You grumbled and your fingers tangled in his dark fur.
“Well yes I can obviously see that but why do you have a bear on top of you?” You cracked open one eyelid to glare at the elf who looked greatly put off by this whole thing.
“He’s my bear.” You answered simply as Halsin groaned in agreement, both of you wishing to go back to sleep and maybe get another blissful hour of just holding each other.
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sinizade · 1 month
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B'ella, the Pale Child (Dark Urges Redeemed)
Class: Warlock (Barbarian subclass)
Romance: Bae'Zel
Besties: Scratch / Owlbear / Wyll / Gale / Karlach
One extra egg among all those eggs wouldn't make a difference, nor would they complain about having two extra hands to fight for the "glory" of their queen. This way, the hatching of this egg surprised the elders of that Creche a little, a child as pale as the moon and with eyes as red as blood that possessed a fury worthy of a demon, certainly that child had something inside it, but the Githyanki wouldn't get rid of a healthy child just because of surpestitions based on one of the babies' appearance... But should they?
B'ella was obedient, precise, deadly, her teachers could see and feel the almost insane pleasure she felt every time she beat her opponents in training, every time she made them bleed and beg... Something so... Sadistic... Even for a Githyanki child, it was unusual to have such an appreciation for death and the ways of killing, but then again, they weren't going to get rid of such a dedicated and useful fighter like her just out of superstition.
Her adulthood was only accompanied by an insatiable hunger, B'ella could have had her uses in combat, an animal, a monster, but when her abilities began to affect other Githyanki they finally realized that having her there was no longer safe or suitable for Creche, so in a clear desperate act they tried to contain B'ella, they tried to tame the monster inside her... The Slayer, but that obviously didn't go as they expected and her sadistic, cruel and psychotic fury spread to everyone in that Creche. Every teacher, every warrior, doctor, student, child, egg, all murdered, torn apart in a bloody dance that spread throughout each hall and that was when she heard a voice, a small creature that praised her... A praise that she never found she was going to receive, told her that there was a place where she could be who she really was, where she could know what it was like to have a family that truly admired her for what she did...
That male human, that Enver Gortash, intelligent man. Tasting Gortash, subduing him to her whims was satisfying, but her devotion was only to her creator, to her god, to her father, Bhaal... But everything had been thrown into the trash with the betrayal of that insolent child, that damned and jealous changeling who took her rightful place.
Waking up on a ghaik ship with no memories left her disconcerted, but her focus now was to get out of there and return to her people and achieve purification. Having someone as adept in battle as Lae'Zel made it easier since the rest of her companions with the exception of Karlach left the pale gith with disgust in her mouth regarding combat.
It wasn't so bad being around that bunch of big noses, they entertained her, they seemed to care about her dark desires, not just for them, but also for her? This was new, not even she remembered the last time she received any kind of help (literally)
Lae'Zel... Zhak vo'n'fynh duj... B'ella could barely understand what she felt, she could barely know what she felt, she didn't know or remember that feeling, but with Lae'Zel everything was clear. .. She was her world, her sword, her flame, the source of her joy...
Finding out that she wasn't a child of Gith broke her, even if she managed to hide it well, it destroyed her completely inside, knowing that the years she spent in her Creche, that her "egg", that her life, was a fake life designed by her "father". That wasn't for her, even if it once had been, now it wasn't... B'ella would no longer be a Bhaalspawn, now she would be a child of Gith and follow Orpheus and her beloved Lae'zel into battle against Vlaakith's tyranny
Some extra information about B'ella
Her memory was "reset" to her times at Creche as soon as she lost her memories, before her dark impulses took over.
She has a strange habit of keeping a lock of her enemies' hair for no reason, she just likes to have a memory of good battles, but when the enemy wasn't good enough she just crushes its head (She has a lock of hair with her from the hair of Minthara/ Ketheric/ Raphael)
Even though she appears to be reserved and cold, B'ella is considered TOO romantic when she is with Lae'Zel and only Lae'Zel, only her source of joy can see B'ella that way
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mashiraostail · 3 months
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can you do HCs of mundane turn ons for the main companions ? PLEASE <3
These are fun
omg maybe my Wyll bias is showing his is way longer. He just eats like he eats everyyyy time.
Slight nsfw under the cut :3 maybe more than slight
Shadowheart: Watching your hands, especially if you've already slept together or started a relationship. She looovvess your hands, she loves to watch you fiddle with things, thumbing at the pages of a book, picking locks, or spinning a small blade between your hands. She could probably explain it in depth if she wanted to, but she was a lady of simple wants and desires and so she doesn't feel the need. She'll fantasize about your nimble, practiced hands all night if you've managed a particularly impressive slight of hand. She's already attracted to the rest of you, so imagining how skilled you are is the final nail in the coffin for her. She'd want to feel your hands in her hair, grazing down her back, tracing the divot of her spine. She wonders how quickly you could undress her, how quickly you could undo her with just your hands.
Astarion: He enjoys seeing you with Scratch and the owl bear, and Tara and all the other furry (or hairless feline) friends you make on your adventure. He isn't sure why. It makes him feel warm, and after decades of chasing burning hot desire a pleasant warmth is a thousand times more satisfying. Though he'll groan and complain at your acts of benevolence to other people, he can't help but feel a soft spot form for animals. He didn't think he'd enjoy seeing someone be so kind and warm. He does. There are moments where he's watching you befriend yet another stray, scratching behind it's ears or under it's chin where he almost longs to switch places. He'll be the first to admit he's lead such a terrible life, a truly loving and gentle touch has been far and few in between. Seeing you care for the four legged friends you've made makes him feel hopeful, he wonders if you would care for him like this. If you would extend such a gracious and gentle touch to him. He feels warm at the thought of it. Soft lips and a feather light touch tracing down his chest, over his stomach. Would you smile and coo praise at him the same way you did with the cub? Would you call him wonderful and brilliant too? Would you mean it?
Gale: Obviously we know he enjoys watching you in a fight, he's said so himself. So I'll do you one better, the inverse. Seeing you freshly cleaned, sparkling with the water of whatever river or lake you'd jumped into drives him just as mad, or maybe it's your wet hair. It doesn't come from the typical carnal sort of desire to make you dirty and sweaty again, no, that's not Gale's style. He just wants to see, all of it, every inch of your perfect, clean skin. He wants to feel your wet hair against his palms, or huddled into the crook of his neck while he touches you all over. The smell of your soap and the way your wet skin looks even more supple than when it's dry is so painfully inviting for him. Some may say that Gale just loves you, dirty, clean, dry, wet, and so on..maybe that is the case. Something about your still slightly damp, freshly cleaned skin is especially intoxicating. He really does just want to touch and kiss, not to sully or dirty just to love and enjoy. He doesn't even know that body worship is a kink that's just how he acts.
Lae'zel: Being an asshole Bickering. At first it actually pisses her off, your snide remarks, the way you brush her off or roll your eyes should make her angry at you, she should hit you, instead she just wants to pounce on you, she wants to wipe that smug look off your face...with her face...while you're both naked. It pisses her off, it makes her stumble over her words, forget herself. She can hardly look at you when she insults you. If you laugh at her, she'll be white knuckling through the end of your argument, then she'll go rub off in private. Unless you notice, and once you get to know her better it probably isn't too hard to see. Turn your rude bickering into coy teasing, egg her on and on until she simply can't help but give into herself ('what are you gonna do about it?' 'ok, make me.' 'I'd like to see you try' etc...) It'll be an angry sort of lay but not a bad one at all, and once you're bent at her will she'll ease up on you, once you've been together a while she may even apologize for being rough with you. No promises.
Wyll: He loooveees when you're sleepy. Propped up trying to read a book but you're eyelids are slipping closed every few seconds? Trying to wash up but having to scrub your face just to get through the routine? Sleepy giggles at Gale's decidedly unfunny joke? He can't help but just imagine you cuddling up to him, asking for sleepy kisses, trying to sneak cold hands into the hem of his shirt to rest on his warm belly. He can't help it, you're so intoxicatingly lovely when you're tired like this and though he feels terribly un-gentlemanly he can't deny the fire in his stomach when you yawn and say his name "Oh Wyll, " you snuffle with the yawn and look at him with tired eyes, "I might need to call it a night." He may have to bite back some strangled noise of arousal, especially if you're already trying to cuddle up with him. He can't help but let his mind wander to how you'd be so sleepy and coy with him had he the mind to take you some place private. It would be a bold faced lie if he said he didn't think about settling down with you, wrapping you up from behind, letting his hands roam freely, and in your tired state he doubts you'd be very hard to work up. You'd be too sleepy to resist all your desires, he thinks about the way you'd release all your inhibitions, he wonders where you would kiss him, you'd indulge him all your secrets biting and licking him in all the places you'd been secretly admiring. He wouldn't complain, he burned to know it all actually, in a sort of selfish way. What were you normally too shy to tell him? What drove you mad for him? He wouldn't mind your sleepy groping, he'd happily let you bite and moan and prod at him. You'd guide his hands to where you wanted them and lazily take what you desired and he would just be so happy to take care of you. You would have a sleepy sort of romp he'd set the pace, huddle you close, kiss you and praise you and it would all be lovely and drowsing and put you both to a great nights rest together.
Karlach: The back of your neck (especially if you have long hair that usually covers it). If she ever tells you and you laugh she'll tell you to fuck right off about it. She can't explain it, watching you pull your hair up, or guide it over your shoulder is entrancing enough but then there it is. The nape of your neck, the short hairs there, your skin looks soo smooth and perfect, she wants to kiss it, or maybe bite it, depending on how frustrated she's feeling. She'll think about pressing her thumbs into it and watch all the tension in your shoulders melt away. She's always favored coming up from behind, she's always pulling your hair over your shoulder, or offering to tie it up for you to 'get it out of your face!'. It's a self serving gesture at it's core. She'll think about kissing it, feeling it flush under her hands and lips. When you do finally get together she'll enjoy seeing the way the nape of your neck glistens with sweat while your together, she thinks it's a great place to have a hold of you for a multitude of reasons.
Halsin: He likes seeing you exert yourself, maybe it's some kind of primal instinct or something, or maybe he just likes to know how far he'll be able to push you later that night. Either way, he can't help it, he thinks it may get better as you grow closer but it only grows worse. Blood and grime caked to your skin don't deter him at all, and if we were drunk enough he'd admit the smell of your sweat, and the salty taste of it on your skin when he kissed or licked or bit you drove him mad. He struggles to be subtle when he watches you after a fight or during a long up hill hike. The rise and fall of your chest makes something in him tighten, the glisten of sweat on your skin, seeing your hair stick to your forehead, the flush of your cheeks and the way your lips part to take in deeper breaths....it all drives him a bit mad. He'll quell his desire to ambush you and drag you off to a secluded forest alcove with a myriad of debauched daydreams, all of them making his stomach stir. First he'll wonder if he could get you into a similarly winded state, if he could make sweat roll down your back, if you would melt for him like you melted at the unrelenting heat of the sun. How would his name sound as a desperate gasp for air? How hot would your cheeks feel under his fingertips when he takes you by the chin and squeezes your face in his hand? The way your lips open to take in deep and thankful breaths only makes him want to completely ravish your mouth. He thinks about what it would take for him to exhaust you so much the weight of own head would be too heavy and he'd have to keep you up with a fistful of your hair.
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jmliebert · 2 months
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Scent of Seduction᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
Summary: Halsin finds himself captivated by Tav, the feeling is mutual, of course. Their journey is full of danger and desire. Despite Halsin's internal struggle between primal instincts and duty, their mutual attraction intensifies. When Tav is in heat, their passion ignites... and well... let's just say things get steamy.
smut with (a little bit of) fluff?
Word count: 2,900
Tags: alpha/omega dynamics, heat, knotting, breeding, shameless smut
Warnings: explicit content (18+)
Author's note: today my demons won. sorry guys, but I was thinking about it for the longesttttt time 
also! you can read this on ao3 if you prefer it that way ♡
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᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
The first time Halsin saw you, he was in his bear form. Held captive in the dark cellar, surrounded by goblins; such lowly creatures. He was helpless and angry, but then he caught a scent of something, or rather someone's scent. Someone who surely didn’t belong there, and that person was you. His ears perked up, intrigued. His muzzle watered a little, your scent being so delicious. But he didn’t want to eat you, of course. His hunger was of a different kind, you see.
At the camp, Halsin could sense you. He felt it in his flesh when you weren’t near. His mind and body grew restless, but it wasn’t only that. When he saw you talking to Wyll or Gale, laughing with them and sharing stories, he felt those sudden pangs of something he hadn’t felt for the longest time; jealousy. He was far too old for that, or so he thought. His heart wasn’t one to stir easily, but with you...it was different. He clenched his jaw unconsciously at the thought of you being with other males. He couldn’t stand this, but he shook his head, ignoring the feeling for now, as he had different matters to attend to.
Yet, his eyes followed you with longing each time you were close.
During the Tiefling Party, it took all the strength he had to reject your rather obvious seductions. You were absolutely sweet, your cheeks flushed from wine, your eyes sparkly and playful. It was a delight to see you so happy and carefree, the hero of the night, the center of attention. You were shining, and despite having so many people to choose from, your eyes found his. Halsin's chest swelled with pride at the thought, but he had to remain composed. That's why he didn’t drink that night; a calculated move on his part, as he feared he might say something he shouldn't have. Halsin already knew he had a certain weakness towards you, and alcohol would only fuel that. In no time, he would confess his feelings for you, saying you were made for each other, that his body and soul yearned for you. He would say he wanted to protect you and love you for eternity, and when he told you that you laughed, thinking he was exaggerating, but he wasn't. It was the truth and his words towards you would be sincere. Then, if he really got carried away and his alpha brain would win over him, he would not let you go until he marked you and pushed his semen deep into your womb. Continuously.
And he knew you for only a few hours at least, and you had a world to save, and he had his duties, and you deserved more than that—you deserved to be courted, to be worshipped. Yet, when he told you to enjoy the night with someone else, deep inside he hoped you wouldn’t.
The thought of you with someone else boiled his veins with anger, but what choice did he have? As he thought about it now, he realised he would act differently that night. He would take your hands in his, kiss them gently and ask you to wait for him, but then, it was different. Maybe he was scared? Maybe he wanted to play it cool, not used to having such abrupt feelings towards someone?
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
Halsin wakes up in the middle of the night, sensing your absence. With a sense of urgency, he stands up and follows your scent. You're not in your usual spot. He finds you at the lake, bathed in moonlight, your naked form illuminated against the dark water. Your slender back, cascading hair, and the gentle curve of your hips beneath the water's surface captivate him. You look divine, a sight to behold. However, Halsin quickly averts his gaze, feeling it's inappropriate to observe you in such a vulnerable state. Returning to his tent, he finds his body betraying him, his arousal evident in the half-hardness of his dick.
Oh, how he longs to draw nearer to you, grasp your waist from behind and draw you closer to his body, making you feel his growing arousal pressing against you. Showing you how much he wants you, how much he needs you. He would groan to your ear, bite your neck and take you here and there, as nature intended. But you are not his to claim, he reminds himself sternly, over and over again, resisting the urge to succumb to his primal instincts.
But that was about to change when you left the Shadow-Cursed Lands. He was finally free from responsibilities, finally free to follow his heart's desires, and you quickly noticed this sudden transformation of his. As you traveled together, Halsin seemed drawn to your side, even unconsciously. He sought to protect you from any danger, always ready to lend a hand when needed. You noticed him finding excuses to be near you, to touch you, to engage in conversation. His gaze lingered on you, his presence felt even when he walked behind you. During campfires, he sat close, his body language open and inviting, his thigh brushing yours. Though he laughed and talked with others, his eyes always found their way back to you, his attention unwavering when you spoke. It made you feel shy, this whole-hearted attention Halsin gave you, but undeniably it made you feel appreciated.
Yet, you couldn't shake the memories of your early encounters. After he helped you battling those goblins, covered in blood and exuding raw power, you felt a shiver run down your spine. He appeared strong and imposing, igniting something within you. But when you approached him with openness and willingness at the Tiefling Party, he rejected you, leaving you feeling foolish. You had hoped for mutual feelings or at least some acknowledgment, but for most of your journey, he offered only polite smiles and lukewarm courtesy. Why the sudden change now?
Don’t get me wrong, you basked in the glory of his attention, relishing in those small smiles meant only for you. But amidst the warmth of his gestures, doubts crept into your mind. Weren't you worthy of his notice before? Yet, you quickly brushed aside those thoughts, focusing instead on the present. Halsin cared for you deeply now, ensuring you were fed, rested, and shielded from the sun's harsh rays. He showered you with little gifts; wildflowers plucked from the roadside, stones with intriguing shapes and colours, and delicately carved wooden ducks. There was no mistaking his intentions; Halsin was courting you, with patience and respect. Your heart raced at the thought, eagerly anticipating his next move. You pondered what the future held, though you never could have imagined what was to come.
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
You found yourself in heat as soon as you arrived at Baldur's Gate. It was as if your body had finally released the tension accumulated during your harrowing journey through the Shadow-Cursed Lands. After witnessing so much death, roughly cut body parts and darkness, your body sought solace within the safety of the Elfsong Tavern, nestled behind the town walls.
Despite the late hour, neither you nor Halsin slept. Instead, you reveled in each other's company, cuddling on the sofa with the soft glow of the fire casting gentle shadows around you. Halsin held you close, his strong arms enveloping your body, and then he cupped your head, drawing you nearer for what would be your first kiss. As his lips met yours, a haze descended over your mind, and you found yourself yearning for more. You were waiting for so long.
You eagerly shifted positions, settling onto his lap, deepening the kiss with a hunger you couldn't contain. Halsin chuckled softly, his fingers pressing against the sides of your body possessively. You gasped at the sensation, feeling a sudden warmth between your legs as your pants grew damp. Panic surged through you—no, it couldn't be.
"I'm sorry, Halsin, I can't right now," you managed to say as you swiftly freed yourself from Halsin's embrace and fled to your bedroom. You needed space, distance from him until you could gather your thoughts.
His kiss and the sudden rush of emotions triggered your heat, overwhelming you with fear and confusion. You buried your face in your pillow, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggled to make sense of what was happening.
Morning brought a gentle knock at your door, and you knew it was Halsin. He had been there all night, waiting patiently for you. "My love, let me in," his voice was soft, tinged with concern. When silence greeted his words, he spoke again, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his tone. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, never," you replied, your heart aching at the thought that he might blame himself. "I just don't feel well," you confessed through tears, your voice muffled by the pillow.
"Whenever it is, I'm confident I can help you, my darling," his words were sincere and full of worry. You were clearly in distress, and he felt he should be at your side, not here, behind these closed doors. "Just let me in," Halsin pleaded, his forehead touching the wooden surface in resignation.
You wished he was here too. When you saw his shadow at the door, your heart ached with longing. You were scared he would think poorly of you, scared of losing control to the heat. You hadn't known each other for long, and perhaps it was too soon for him to see this side of you. But at the same time, you were devastated at the thought of being without him. Unsure of what to do, you began to cry, and when Halsin heard your sobs, he couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm going in!" he declared, his voice resolute as he forced the doors open. As soon as he entered the room, he clasped a hand over his mouth. There you lay on the bed, naked, the room dimly lit by the morning sun filtering through closed curtains. The scent of you filled the air, potent and overwhelming. Halsin thought perhaps you had second thoughts when you kissed for the first time, maybe things had moved too quickly, but he certainly wasn't expecting this. 
His dick twitched. You were in heat, he realised. "Oh, Tav..." You looked so lost and uncomfortable, your body covered in sweat, your eyes watery. All he wanted to do now was to take you in his arms and never let go.
"Halsin, I feel so hot I can't breathe. Touch me, please," you said, your voice laced with need. Halsin was there in the split of a second, responding to your plea without hesitation.
He took you in his arms, placing you on his lap, and you moaned, the sound emanating from deep inside you. As your bodies touched, you couldn't understand why you had pushed him away before, when you kissed for the first time. He felt like he was made for you, and you for him. Thoughts swirled in your mind as he held you close, his hands roaming all over you, his head buried in your neck, sniffing and then licking with long strokes, revealing in your delicious scent.
You began to grind on his thighs, your pent-up arousal needing release. Desperation fuelled your movements. Halsin placed his rough, large hands on your hips, guiding and assisting your grinding motion. In seconds, you reached climax, moaning and gasping. But it wasn't enough. The heat subsided for just a brief moment. Afterwards, you were ready for more. You wanted Halsin deep inside your wet and willing pussy.
You took his hand in yours and guided him to your heated entrance. "I need you here, Halsin," you whispered urgently.
"And you will have me, my love," he assured, his voice thick with desire.
You didn’t need to tell him twice. Halsin quickly took off his clothes. And that’s how you saw his dick for the first time. It was huge, but somehow you suspected it will be. He seemed pleasantly heavy. He was already oozing pre-cum and fully erect. Ready for you.
You lay on your back as he returned to the bed, your legs parted, inviting him in. Slick all over your inner thighs and your entrance, guiding the way. He didn’t even need to finger you. You were perfectly ready. Ready as he was. 
Halsin kissed you passionately, causing your body to tremble with the intensity of the sensation. Every ounce of his desire and affection towards you was conveyed in that tender gesture.
"Halsin, please…" you moaned, your hips moving eagerly, your body yearning for more. His arousal at your entrance heightened your senses, driving you to the brink of madness. With a single swift motion, he guided himself inside you, and as he entered, you felt a rush of ecstasy that illuminated your senses like stars in the night sky. A scream of pleasure escaped your lips, echoing in the room, while he grunted softly in your ear, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought to maintain control. It was a challenge to remain composed when you felt so incredibly tight and warm around him. The urge to climax threatened to consume him, but he resisted, knowing that this moment was all about you. In this vulnerable state, you entrusted yourself to him, and he vowed to cherish you, to prioritise your pleasure above all else. You were his priority, and he would savour every moment with you. 
As Halsin began to move, his motions were deliberate and measured, each thrust a testament to his desire to please you. One hand caressed your full breast, while the other gripped your thigh, spreading you wider to accommodate him. The sight of you, so beautiful and lewd, whimpering each time he showed his dick deep inside you, elicited a primal desire within him. Every whimper that escaped your lips drove him further, his arousal building with each thrust. He couldn’t help but look at your exquisite, smooth pussy swallowing him over and over again.
"You are so good to me," Halsin murmured, his voice soft and filled with admiration, as he brushed a sticky strand of hair from your forehead before pressing a tender kiss to your skin.
As Halsin placed his thumb on your clitoris, his touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. With deft circular movements, he quickened his pace, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. In response, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, craving the feeling of his muscles against yours, yearning for the weight of his body upon you.
His hard, deliberate strokes combined with the stimulation of your clitoris pushed you over the edge once more, eliciting another powerful climax. "Yes, yes, yes," you repeated, the words tumbling from your lips as your back arched and your inner muscles clenched in pleasure.
"Good girl," Halsin praised, his voice filled with satisfaction and pride. So responsive to his touch.
At this point, Halsin felt himself teetering on the edge of control. Sensing his impending release, he quickened his pace even further, his movements growing more urgent as his knot began to form. With each thrust, his desire to breed you, to fill you with his seed, consumed his thoughts entirely. He wanted nothing more than to hear you scream in pleasure beneath him.
As his movements became more erratic, more sloppy, he whispered urgently against your neck, "I need you to come for me one more time," his voice strained with desire. The sound of his groans mingled with yours, creating a symphony of pleasure as his flesh moved against yours in a passionate rhythm. In that moment, you felt an overwhelming sense of utter pleasure being in his arms, being taken by him, feeling his knot pressing against your entrance.
As his knot fully formed, Halsin pushed it into you, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from both of you. With three final, powerful thrusts, he released himself inside you, his loud moans reverberating through the room. In response, you screamed in ecstasy, your body convulsing with pleasure as you reached your third climax.
You took his knot so well, and he felt an intense rush of satisfaction as he emptied himself deep inside you. His dick, engorged and throbbing, remained buried in your tight, eager pussy, his knot ensuring that his seed would stay where it belonged. In that moment of shared bliss, you both relished the sensation of being joined so intimately, lost in the throes of passion and desire.
With Halsin lying on top of you, his weight pressing down on your smaller frame, you felt a sense of pure bliss wash over you. His presence enveloped you, providing a comforting sense of security. As he remained inside you, filling you completely, you relished the sensation of being pleasantly stretched by his size.
You never wanted him to leave your pussy, not even for a moment. The thought of his knot disappearing, signalling the end of this intimate connection, made you want to cry. But for now, he was still with you, his body pulsing with each release of his seed. You felt his warmth spreading inside you, filling your belly, and you surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of being completely claimed by him.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
thank you so much for reading !
you can find more of my works about bg3 ♡here♡
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theonewiththefanfics · 5 months
Text
Seal It With a Kiss (one-shot)
Synopsys: After a looting session goes wrong, Astarion and Reader have to face the music and confront their feelings. Whatever they might be.
Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader
Genre: angst, fluff
Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, but nothing explicit
Word count: 3234
A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )
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The light was too bright. And the ground was too hard. And the pillow too tough and lumpy. And why did Y/N feel so hot when it was literally snowing? And, actually, when had it started snowing? From bright blue skies, might she add?
Slowly, haziness dissipated from her eyes, and the world around came into sharp, painful focus. The light was too bright because half of her surroundings were on literal fire. The ground was too hard because she was half on rubble that once was a palace roof, and the tough, lumpy pillow was a rock her head had smashed against, while the snow was ashes flowing down, covering everything, including her, in a grey layer of soot, the sky peeking in from the hole above.
Although her sight was clearing, a sharp ringing pierced her ears. Or was it shouting?
A shadow crossed the sky, and above her, she could see their resident vampiric elf’s mouth moving.
“ – were you thinking?!” Finally, her ears started to clear as well. “You absolute imbecile! Why would you do that?!”
Y/N just groaned in response, as her memories came back in quick flashes. Everyone was arguing about where they should look for another magical artefact, Astarion shooting down what Gale had proposed, Wyll trying to make a sensible plan while Lae’Zel interrupted Shadowheart at any given moment. A deep rumble from the depths of the abandoned palace they were in silenced them all, Karlach throwing them a worried expression. And then the whole building exploded.
On instinct, Y/N had pushed Astarion as far away as she could before the ceiling came crashing down on top of her. It was nothing short of a miracle, she had managed to survive. Bruised, battered, no doubt with broken bones, but alive nonetheless. Maybe she’d have to thank a goddess or two. That was if Astarion didn’t rip her to pieces beforehand with how furious he looked.
Slowly Y/N tried to lift herself onto her forearms, and for all his admonishments, Astarion was quick to crouch down and help her, putting his arms under her pits and letting her rest against his chest.
“Oh dear,” she mumbled, noticing a large bannister lying across her leg. “That’s not good.”
“Not good?!” Astarion practically shrieked, his hands tightening around her ribs. “How hard did you hit your fucking head? This is so beyond not good I can’t even think of a level!”
Y/N winced at his tone. “Can you stop shouting, please? Gods, my head is splitting.”
“Oh, is it now? It would be quite the fucking miracle if it wasn’t, seeing as a whole fucking palace just toppled on you!”
“Quit being so dramatic and help get that thing off me! Where’re the rest?”
“Frankly, I don’t fucking care right now!” Astarion gently laid Y/N back down and went to the large boulder.
His arms strained as he lifted the piece of the pillar, her eyes widening at the display of strength.
She sometimes forgot how strong Astarion actually was, how easily he could snap her neck with just a twist of his hands if he so wished while Y/N allowed him to drink from her. But he was always gentle instead, with how he held her nape, fingers soothingly pressing into her scalp and knuckles brushing against her collarbones once he was done in a sweet gesture of thanks.
As quickly as she could, Y/N scooted from under the rubble, Astarion dropping the boulder back unceremoniously, and he was back by her side in a second, an arm wrapping around her waist, so she could lean on him.
“We have to find the others,” Y/N hissed as she stood. Her whole body screamed in pain, but they had to get out of the now-ruined palace, lest another explosion happen.
“They can find their own way out,” Astarion grunted, as he led them towards the exit.
“Astarion!”
“No!” He snapped his head to look at Y/N, and his scarlet eyes held such a desperate gaze in them, that she pinched her lips shut. “I will knock you out if I have to. I am not letting you get hurt again.”
“Astarion, they’re our friends,” Y/N’s voice was gentle. “We have to help them if we can.”
For a moment, Astarion truly looked like he might just throw her over his shoulder and march out of the place. But then he sighed, hanging his head in defeat before looking at her with pain distorting his features. “Why do you always have to be so good?”
Something tugged at her heart. That expression on his face, as if it physically put him in agony to lead them around the ruined palace in search of their companions, as he flinched and tightened his hold on her whenever something crackled, ready to throw his own body atop hers, in case something happened. It wasn’t selfishness, not one bit. Something deeper lay beneath Astarion’s reluctance.
It took them a while to find their party, but luckily no one was injured, and Y/N was the worst one off.  Shadowheart was by her side in an instant, giving her a healing potion.
“Should keep you set until we get back to camp.” She patted her shoulder. “I’ll heal you fully once we’re out of immediate danger.”
“Thank you.” Y/N smiled at the cleric.
She was just about to ask Astarion whether he was alright, but the vampire had already detached himself and was glaring at the ground, arms crossed over his chest ten feet away from her.
Y/N couldn’t deny – it stung. He’d been so worried just a few moments ago, yet now he couldn’t even look at her?
Her feet worked on their own accord, moving in his direction, but the way he turned his back to her, told her all she needed to know – he didn’t want to talk.
Pain shot through her heart, and it was definitely not because of the explosion, but Y/N respected his privacy, so she didn’t approach him any further, even though they always, always, walked next to one another.
“We should head back,” she spoke up, eyes remaining on Astarion’s taut back. “Maybe get some rest as well. We still have tomorrow anyway to search this place.”
When Astarion left the palace without even waiting to see if anyone was following, Y/N could do nothing but sigh and depart as well.
The walk to where they’d set up their camp was uncharacteristically quiet, especially from the pale elf’s side. He’d usually fill their travels with mindless talk and sarcastic quips, but this time around, he hung towards the back of their group and was as mum as a grave. He didn’t even comment on whatever Gale was saying, which made Y/N all the more uneasy.
She couldn’t wrap her mind around why he’d become so distant all of a sudden. What’d happened at the palace was nothing unusual. They risked their lives on the daily, saving others and themselves, so why in the world was Astarion so pissed about this, she had no clue.
Karlach leaned to the side, watching as the vampire entered his tent, closing the laces immediately. “Fangs is quite in a bad mood. Anything we should know about, soldier?”
Y/N huffed. “Probably broke a nail or something. In any case – nothing important enough to be acting the way he is.”
“Maybe I should go and – “
She put a palm on Karlach’s shoulder, stopping her, and giving her friend a wry smile. “I’ll talk to him. Better he’s angry at me and only me, not someone else as well. Apparently, I’ve pissed him off as is.”
“You sure?” the tiefling asked.
“Yeah.” Y/N nodded. “I think we need to have a talk anyway.”
With a “good luck” from Karlach, she sighed and steeled herself against whatever the vampire would throw her way. She unlaced the ties and lifted the flap to the side. With crossed arms, she entered Astarion’s tent, only to be greeted by his back as he stubbornly kept looking at a book in his hands, not even acknowledging her.
“Are you seriously pouting right now?” Y/N asked after a minute of silence.
“I’m not pouting, I’m brooding. There’s a difference.”
“Well, does brooding involve giving the silent treatment, or can we talk?”
Astarion threw a withering gaze over his shoulder. “What is there you want to talk about? Unless it’s an apology, I don’t want to hear it.”
Y/N let out an exasperated huff. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I won’t apologise for saving your life.”
“By putting your own life in danger?!” Astarion spun around, throwing the tome he’d been holding onto his bedroll.
“Comes with the territory.” She shrugged. “You should know how it is.”
“Letting a whole building collapse on top of you is very different to knocking a blade out of the way!”
“Why are you so angry with me?” Y/N raised her voice, matching Astarion’s furious tone. “I saved your life!
“I didn’t ask for you to!”
She let out a disbelieving scoff. “Well, sucks to be you then! Because I was not just going to let you get crushed underneath all that rubble! Your life is just as important as everyone else’s!”
“Not to me! Not when it comes to you!”
Now that shut her up completely, her lips pinched in a thin line, eyes wide in shock. She and Astarion were friends, at least Y/N would've liked to think so. She most definitely had developed deeper feelings than that, but would only admit to it over her own dead body. The thought of Astarion’s rejection made her want to crumple into a small heap, but his reaction put thoughts in her head that maybe, just maybe, her feelings weren’t one-sided.
“What do you suppose I would do if you – if – if,” he stumbled on his words. “If I had to go on without you? If you were no longer with us… with me…”
“Astarion…”
“Do you understand how it felt to see you go down?” He sighed, hanging his head. “When I saw the roof caving in and then felt you push me away before you vanished beneath rubble and dust and ash… I’ve never been more terrified in all of my life, two hundred years of which were spent under the rule of an absolute sadist, where horrors awaited around every corner.”
His eyes bore nothing but pain and despair he’d felt in that moment. “I heard everyone else screaming - Shadowheart calling out, Wyll and Karlach making sure Gale and Lae’Zel were alright but nothing… not a single whisper from your voice. You tell me I’m pouting, but all I can see when I close my eyes is you… how you would look… dead. Your eyes closed forever, your blood spilling out of your body and I… I have to stand and watch as I am unable to save you.
“But I’m alright.” Y/N stepped up to him, taking one of his palms in hers, and squeezing it. “Astarion, I’m alive, and I’m fine.”
“But you almost weren’t!” he hissed, pulling her closer, bringing their clasped hands to rest against his chest. “And all I would have been left to do was wait for the dust to settle and dig out your broken body. You would have condemned me to eternity without you… I just almost lost the person I love... and that fear is something I never wish to experience again.”
Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat at such an honest confession. “I umm I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” Friendship was one thing, but love? That threw her completely off balance.
“Feel? Felt? What does it matter anymore? Clearly, it’s not like it’s reciprocated.” He scoffed, back the mask of bravado and not caring, but Y/N wasn’t having any of it.
“It matters to me.” Her brows furrowed. “It matters a great deal to me. Why do you think I did what I did, exactly? Because it’s fun? Because I enjoy blocks of buildings dropping down on me? Because it’s such an absolute delight to realise - if I don’t push you out of the way, you will be in direct line of fire, and I might lose you?”
Astarion’s mouth opened and closed. “I didn’t – I –“
“No!” Y/N pointed an accusatory finger at him. Now she was angry. “You don’t get to play the "I'm in love with you" card and be angry with me. Not if you dare tell me how I feel without asking first!”
“You...” He shook his head, a crease to his brow. “You never indicated you held anything more than… friendly affections towards me.”
Y/N rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Yes, because I let everyone in this party use me as their personal snack each night. I’d say that should’ve been your first clue.”
“I’d say you’re a full-course meal, my darling, but I understand the sentiment.” And though back was his usual air of sarcasm, a deep vulnerability could be seen shining in his crimson eyes as he weaved a gentle hand to wrap around the small of her waist, brushing underneath her sleep tunic to rest against her skin.
Cold met warm, and Y/N gasped as a shiver ran down her spine. His slender fingers dug into her back as he pulled Y/N closer, their breaths mingling, and if they only moved just a couple of centimetres, lips would touch.
“I just – I cannot stand and watch you throw your life away for someone like me. The thought of your brightness being extinguished because of it… I couldn’t bear it.”
Y/N tilted her head to the side. “Someone like who exactly? Someone who I’ve grown to look at as my dearest confidant? Someone who I know will always tell me the truth and be there if I cannot handle it? Or someone who so deftly has stolen my heart, he cannot even comprehend it’s been his the whole time? Besides, even if it wasn’t reciprocated...” She played with the string of his shirt, “you can’t tell me to be more careful, to not save you when you do the exact same thing.”
“How can I not?” Astarion’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, and for once, he seemed to want the moment to reflect what truly lay in his soul. “You make my heart beat on its own. If I had to give up walking in the sun for the rest of my life, I would. As long as it meant you were safe and happy. I’d even gladly go back to Cazador if you were on the line. Without a second to spare.”
“Don’t you dare fucking say that!"
“But it’s true.”
“Not if I can help it,” Y/N grumbled, tightening her hold on his shirt by his hips, pulling him closer like she had to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. “He’s not ever going to get near you. I’ll level the whole of Baldur’s Gate if I have to.”
“And I am being honest when I say, if I had to choose between you being unhurt or me being imprisoned, being used as I was, I would always put you first.”
Y/N was on the verge of tears. “You listen to me you pompous blood-sucking elf – you will do no such thing. Whatever comes, we both will get through it. And Cazador will have his head ripped from his shoulders, but not before I gouge his eyes out, and do every single vile thing he did to you back onto him. I will skin him alive and then throw him in a tomb with nothing but cockroaches. Let him drink his own blood and see how he likes it.” She shuddered, taking in a deep breath. “Your life is not worth less than mine. Don’t you ever dare think that way.”
A watery chuckle escaped Astarion, and his eyes brimmed with silvery tears. “Can I kiss you?” He didn’t dare lift his gaze, focusing on their intertwined fingers, resting against where his heart no doubt would have been rattling a crazy rhythm if it still beat.
“If you want to.” Y/N’s reply was as quiet as his question had been, but there was no teasing in her tone.
His eyes flashed for a second, but she didn’t get a full grasp on what it was she saw. Maybe surprise. Maybe gratitude? She couldn’t tell really, all she knew was that the emotion caused a pang to ring to her very core. She’d kill Cazador with her own bloody hands.
“I want it.” He nodded. “More than anything.”
“More than my blood? That first night you almost drained me dry,” Y/N’s words, though true, held no malice, only gentle teasing.
“And how do you know that first time I wasn’t trying to wake up the sleeping princess with a magical true love’s kiss? The feeding just ended up being a bonus.” He brushed her nose with his, and couldn’t help the way his own lips turned up as Y/N smiled.
“Well, this sleeping princess would’ve punched you in the nose, had you awoken her for such silly things. Besides, you did miss my lips.”
Astarion chuckled, relishing the way her body pressed against his. “But I am allowed to awaken you to drink from you?”
“Well...” She nudged his nose with hers now. “Seeing as you become absolutely unbearable when hungry, I think for my own peace and everyone else’s, that does count as a vital reason to rouse me."
Gentle hands cupped her cheeks. “Allow me to demonstrate then how vital a kiss can be to one’s survival.”
And then their lips met.
She’d never admit it out loud, for his ego would surely grow larger than it already was, but it did feel like a magical kiss of life. Her whole body sang as his fingers slid against the nape of her neck, pulling her closer, almost like Astarion was afraid she’d pull back, but she could never. Not when he slipped his tongue past her lips, and her knees almost crumbled.
Y/N had to tighten her hold on his waist to not completely lose it, and she could feel the smirk growing on the vampire’s face, as he realised just how incapacitated his kiss had made her. He nipped at the bottom of her lip and relished in the small whimper he got to devour.
After what felt like ages, they pulled back, panting, but not going too far as Astarion rested his forehead against hers.
Y/N smiled. “True love’s kiss you say?”
“It feels like it,” he mumbled, allowing himself to indulge in the tender touch of her fingers skimming up and down his back. “Though I don’t know much about… love… I’d like to experience it with you. All of it. The good and the bad that might come with it.”
“I’ll be here,” Y/N promised. “As long as you want me to, I’m not going anywhere.”
“And if I ask for forever?”
She let out an over-exaggerated, dramatic sigh. “Forever’s quite a long time, don’t you think?”
“Not long enough,” Astarion replied, a smile tugging up his lips. “It’d never be long enough with you.”
Y/N quirked a brow. “Is that a challenge?”
He chuckled at that. “I’d say it’s more of a promise, if anything.”
“Seal it with a kiss?”
“Deal, my love.”
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fangswbenefits · 3 months
Text
The Arrangement (13) - Tempest
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Chapter summary: A much needed conversation takes place... as well as a realisation that might change everything.
Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav
Warnings: Mentions of trauma.
Word count: 4.6k
Series masterlist . AO3
There was a crack on the ceiling.
A deep scowl settled on your face as you lay sprawled along the large bed, staring at the lightning-like fissure that had caught your attention.
How deep did it run? Had it been there all along? You wouldn't know. After all, you seldom spent time in this room.
His room.
Astarion had never shown interest in moving in with you and the others. He kept to himself and rushed to find accommodation at The Blushing Mermaid. You couldn't really fault him for wanting to keep to himself.
But you still kept this room vacant just in case he changed his mind.
He never did.
Little did you know that it would be a myriad of unfortunate events that had hurled him into this very room.
Until a few nights ago.
He left before you could convince him otherwise. 
Guilt had been boiling in the pit of your stomach ever since, but you had come to accept that some things were out of your control.
The house confinement had been lifted after much insistence on Wyll's part. It no longer seemed appropriate, yet he promised to keep Fists nearby just in case.
Still, Astarion was now free to do as he saw fit.
Wyll had met up with him and he was seemingly doing well.
Seemingly.
The events of that night kept on flashing in your mind, as you sought to find a rational explanation to what could have caused him to stare at you the way he had.
Revulsion.
Disgust.
Had you taken it too far? Maybe you should have suggested for him to feed on you. Maybe you shouldn't have been brought up that night.
Maybe, maybe, maybe…
You could go on forever, going over countless possibilities, but you were not inside his head.
Only he had the answers to your questions.
This was the logical side of you urging your mind to make peace with what is out of your control.
But your heart still clenched and ached and hurt.
Your feelings had been severed from all logic.
You still felt the need to go through that event, desperate to find solace.
That maybe this, too, would pass.
Maybe.
And just as always, a tear detached from the corner of your eye and streamed downwards, leaving a familiar wet trail in its wake.
Glancing around, you could still see so much of him everywhere.
His embroidery set, his books, his shirts, some of his vials of poison.
Even his scent lingered.
You hadn't even bothered drawing the curtains and letting the sun or moon in.
It was as if he was everywhere and nowhere all at once.
You heaved a deep sigh as you mustered the strength and will to shift your focus on what you could control.
The crack on the ceiling stared at you and you stared back at it, eventually deciding you should do something about it.
Pushing yourself off the bed, you placed both hands on your hips with newfound determination.
This you could fix.
Maybe.
The door was open, and you yelped in surprise as you saw movement in the corner of your eye.
Wyll was leaning against the doorframe with folded arms and the same kind and soft expression he always held around you.
“I didn't mean to scare you.”
You ran your hands along the silky fabric of the nightdress to adjust it before slipping into your robe, tying it snugly around your waist.
“Oh, I was simply distracted.” you blurted out, hurriedly wiping the wetness from your face.
An understanding smile curved his lips. “I knew I'd find you in his room.”
“It's not his room,” you immediately said. “Well – not really,” you added, fearing you had come across as too harsh.
He arched an eyebrow but said nothing.
Your gaze landed on the ceiling once more. “There's a crack on the ceiling.”
He slowly joined your side and followed your line of sight. “So there is.”
“I need to fix it.”
“You? Now? Do you think the ceiling is giving in?”
You stared at him, perplexed. “What?”
“Do you think it poses danger?” he asked, his eyes on you. “It is quite small.”
There was an argument to be made that the size of things seldom mattered.
Tiny cracks could make way to bigger ones.
Tiny cracks could still hurt.
They could still inflict damage.
You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you flinched. “Are you well?”
“Yes. Quite.”
An obvious lie you hadn't bothered to flesh out.
He didn't look convinced in the slightest, but didn't press things further.
You enjoyed that about Wyll. He knew exactly when silence was the best and more adequate answer. Sometimes, words just weren't enough.
Eventually, you cleared your throat. “I assume you're not here just visiting.”
“You caught me,” he said playfully, hands laced behind his back. “I come bearing news.”
From the way his face had faintly dropped, you could immediately tell your mood was about to shift in an unwanted direction.
“Ava?”
He nodded. “We still haven't been able to tie her to anything as of yet.”
You felt your stomach clench with dread. “It can't be… she has to be involved somehow.”
“I agree. I have the finest inquisitors trying to break through her facade – if she has one.”
There had to be something.
She had to be responsible.
“What about Rob Sorel? Surely he can be of help.”
A scowl twisted his face. “Nothing as of yet. He has a solid alibi that he insists on roping her into. Besides, he's an established patriar of the city, there is only so much pressure we can apply before tensions rise amongst the noblemen.”
A shaky sigh rushed past your lips. 
Wyll was stuck between a rock and hard place, no doubt. On one hand, he sought to act dutifully and according to his moral code. On the other hand, he was far from being impartial in the matter, and his friendship towards both you and Astarion could be seen as a compromising factor.
“How much time do we have until you have to set them free?”
“Maybe one more day,” he said. “Rob Sorel is the tricky part here. Ava has no power, but he does. He has connections that extend far beyond our reach, and if they take notice that he's imprisoned, it might trigger unforeseeable consequences.”
You began pacing around the room, urged by your nervousness and frustration.
“What of Waterdeep?”
Wyll followed your every move with his eyes. “Gale has yet to encounter anything suspicious that could be tied to her.”
You slumped into a nearby chair and pressed your face into the palms of your hands, letting out a growl. “I am not wrong about this,” you said almost pleadingly, lips quivering. “Wyll. I am not wrong. She – there is something wrong with her. Astarion…”
Your voice trailed off at the mention of his name in your mouth.
It hurt.
A painful jab in your chest rendered you silent, and you lowered your face, anticipating tears of frustration.
Wyll rushed to your side, placing a comforting hand atop your head, patting it gently.
“We will figure this out. You have my word.”
His word held weight. You knew of this. If there was anyone in Baldur's Gate whose word was worth gold, it was Wyll's.
But… “It is not fair. It is not fair that now he doesn't want to pursue this anymore… because of her.”
Wyll dropped to one knee, eye-levelling with you. “Astarion is stronger than we give him credit for, and he is free to choose his own path.”
“What if it's the wrong one?”
“You can't decide that for him,” Wyll reasoned, taking your hand in his. “All we can do now is give him time and respect that.”
Astarion needed time and you needed to find a way to make that realisation less agonising. 
You wanted nothing more than to be a comforting presence to him, but surely not at the expense of his well-being.
Breaking into a sob, you managed to stare into his eyes. “How is he doing?”
Wyll offered the warmest smile. “I believe he is doing well – within reason, that is. He was spotted hunting in the outskirts of the city before I got here.”
That should have put your mind at ease, but it only seemed to make matters worse.
“It's not enough… boars and deers and carrion cannot satiate him as thinking creatures do.”
His hand tightened around yours and his face was firm. “Are you referring to yourself?”
Your heart skipped a beat.
“I do not mean to pry on your relationship with him, but you're a dear friend of mine,” he began. “I am aware you want to help him get through his hunger, but you don't have to.”
Immediately, you pulled your hand from his grasp as if burned.
You didn’t need to be scolded on this.
“Don’t. Do not do this.”
Wyll fell silent, but there was a hint of sadness sprawled across his features.
Then it quickly dawned on you how unfair you were being towards him. 
“I apologise… you mean well, I know.”
Ever courteous, Wyll shook his head. “I overstepped a line. You care deeply for him and the bond you two share is foreign to me.”
This time, you took his hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Wyll also possessed a heart of gold that few could rival with. He never hesitated to take a step back if he believed to be in the wrong.
And he wasn't.
“No, you're right. You're merely looking out for a friend.”
“For both of you, actually,” he promptly corrected. “I care for both of you and I would detest for you to part ways unless as a last resort.”
You inhaled sharply. “We'll figure things out… hopefully.”
Were you trying to convince Wyll or yourself?
He rose to his full height, pulling you up with him. “If there is someone who can figure things out, it's you.”
How you wished that was so, but you accepted his words with a sincere smile.
“Do not fight me on this,” he said, playfully jabbing a finger into your shoulder. “You brought us all together
“It was only possible because of everyone's commitment,” you said truthfully. “Do not fight me on this.”
Wyll chuckled as you used his words against him, raising both hands. “Very well, very well.”
You looped your arm around his, allowing yourself to feel lighter and push the fear and concern aside even if just for a moment.
“It's quite late. You can stay over,” you offered kindly as the two of you headed downstairs.
He patted your hand. “Ah, I would gladly take up that offer, but duty calls.”
“At this hour?”
“The city never sleeps, my dear friend.”
It had to be an exhausting job more often than not, especially with all the unpredictability that came with it.
As you reached the kitchen, you were greeted by a couple of flickering candle lights spread across the room, providing just enough clarity for you to reach the front door.
Your arm slipped from his and you pulled him into a hug, which he reciprocated.
“Take care,” he said, patting your back lovingly. “We'll stay in touch.”
You nodded, fighting back the tears that had begun to prickle at your eyes.
When he finally pulled away, you realised that if Astarion had been there, he would have teased you to death about Wyll.
Alas…
With a final nod, he went out into the cool night, categorically greeted by two Fists that awaited him outside, ready to escort him back.
Just as you were about to close the door shut, Shadowheart's low voice was heard.
“Are you well? Was it a nightmare?”
You turned to face her. “Oh, no. Wyll dropped by to say that they might not be able to hold Ava as a prisoner for much longer.”
It was interesting that despite the abrupt departure from Astarion, you had been able to sleep undisturbed. Not a single nightmare or bizarre dream had plagued your subconscious ever since.
Granted, you had been using the lavender oil Shadowheart had gifted you, but its effectiveness was still debatable.
She grimaced, adjusting her own robes, as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Snivelling little cockroach,” she said with a hiss. “There must be a way to catch her in a lie.”
It was far too late and you were far too exhausted to pursue this matter once again.
You needed to step out and catch some fresh air.
“I'll be in the backyard.”
Shadowheart's quick steps drew near. “Do you want some company?”
“I'd rather be by myself, if that's alright.”
She nodded, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. “Of course.”
Slipping past the open door, you made your way around the house and towards the back garden that Gale took pride in keeping luscious and vibrant.
You hadn't told any of them what had happened between you and Astarion a few nights ago.
They knew something had happened, but didn't press you for details, which you were thankful for. They assumed he had parted from the group again because of the whole Ava ordeal and that he needed to process things.
But you knew it was related to you. You knew deep inside you that something within him had been triggered and it made your heart clench knowing you were probably the root cause of it.
The gentle night breeze rushed past your cheeks, as you hurried along, barefoot and with only a thin robe to keep any semblance of heat close to your body.
The grass crunched softly under your feet and you only came to a halt once you found yourself surrounded by countless flowerbeds of all shapes and sizes.
You took a deep breath, calmness filling your lungs as the soothing scent of grass and pollen wafted around you.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough for now.
The crickets were in full force tonight which only added to the magical ambiance.
For the first time in what seemed like too long, you smiled widely.
You wrapped the robe around you tightly as you sat on the wooden bench by the impressive row of night orchids.
Mindlessly, your hand reached down and you plucked a wilted flower bud that had certainly gone past its time.
It was still as radiant as ever in hues of dark blue and purple.
You twirled the stem in between your fingers as you glanced up to admire the glinting stars high up above, sprawled across the sky.
Bathed in moonlight and surrounded by calm and quiet, you pulled your legs up and pressed them against your chest, resting your chin on your knees.
You vaguely wished you could freeze this moment in time and take in all the beauty that surrounded all of you.
“It's quite a sight.”
You jolted in your seat at the sound of a velvety voice.
Astarion.
Your eyes found his crimson ones in the dark of night, and an overwhelming urge to bolt straight into his arms nearly took over.
But your mind held you back, rooting you in place as you watched him approach.
“The stars, I mean,” he added with a purr, glancing upwards at the starry night sky.
The playful jab didn't go amiss and you felt a faint smile tugging at your lips.
He had uttered that same remark many moons ago, teasing you for entering his field of vision.
And now here he was, entering yours and capturing your attention like he had the first time.
It was as if the very sight of him was a force of nature that slammed mercilessly against your chest, robbing you of air.
Your heart was thumping so hard you could hear each heavy beat in your ears.
You leaned back, taking in the full sight of him.
He looked… well.
He looked fed.
He looked like himself.
But there was this aura about the way he slowly moved that indicated something was amiss.
Silently, he sat next to you, far enough that your heart skipped a fleeting beat.
Should you say something? Ask something? Should you wait for him? 
Astarion eventually turned to stare at you. “It's quite cold tonight yet you're out here wearing nothing but your paper-thin nightdress and an equally useless robe.”
You opened your mouth, but you just couldn't speak.
He slipped the thick cloak off his shoulders and draped it over yours with a click of his tongue.
“You were never one to properly look after yourself, but, darling… do not get sick on me,” he finished with what seemed to be a genuine teasing smile.
Words were stuck in your throat. The fear and dread that you might utter something wrong completely froze you in place.
He looked and talked like your Astarion.
But was he truly being himself?
His gaze dropped to the flower in your hand and he tugged it free from your grip, inspecting it closely.
“Ah, flowers… beautiful, but–”
“–they make for lousy poisons,” you completed, voice coming out raspy.
Another genuine smile ghosted his lips. “Yet it would look even more beautiful on you,” he said, his hand reaching out to tuck the stem behind your ear. “As most things do.”
“Astarion…” you said, swallowing hard.
“I meant every word.”
He was overcompensating and deflecting.
Your heart sank.
It wasn’t that he didn’t mean what he was saying, but you could tell this was an attempt at mending things between you without quite addressing the issue.
And he clearly realised you had seen right through him as he sighed. “Alright, alright… we do need to talk, don't we?”
You nodded silently.
A shiver ran through your body and it wasn't due to the cold breeze.
It was the gripping fear that whatever came next might break your spirit.
He fixed his stare somewhere in the distance before speaking again, “I apologise for leaving so hurriedly that night. I… supposed I got carried away and it felt rather overwhelming.”
Your mouth had dried up. “What did I do wrong?”
This time, he turned his head to fully face you, a sliver of confusion twisting his pleasant features. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was me – my head – that got in the way.”
You didn’t believe him.
“You were talking to me and suddenly it was as if I had said something horrifying,” you whispered, doing your best to keep your tone steady. “It was me… it was something I said.”
He paused for a moment. “It is not your fault that this happens. I need you to understand that. Please.”
A lump formed in your throat but you swallowed it right away, not wanting to be bound to silence.
This conversation was long overdue.
“Can I be honest?”
He quickly nodded. “I would expect nothing less from you.”
You collected yourself and your heart. “I don't know how to help you… I don't know what to do…” you said truthfully, lacing your fingers together and unable to face his piercing eyes. “I don't want to be too much… I don't want to trigger you. I do–”
Astarion cut you off immediately. “Look at me. Please.”
He waited for you to do so and only then did he proceed. “There was a time I cursed from having a wriggling worm inside my head. Little did I know that that was the least of my problems. And this is my problem. Not yours.”
You had to bite down on your lower lip to keep it from quivering.
He suddenly looked weary, running a hand along his face. “I am tired – exhausted to have my mind holding my body back. There are times when I can go through with it… and it's mostly thanks to you and your patience.”
There was a part of you that was relieved that he wasn't upset with you.
But a more vicious part of you rose a voice inside your head, telling you he was merely doing damage control.
That he just wanted you for your blood.
“What's that look on your face?” he asked, sounding hurt. “You do not believe me?”
You pushed the mocking voice away and blinked. “No – I just… Astarion… I don't know what to do. I don't. I want to be here for you, but I keep fearing we're pushing it.”
He pressed his lips into a fine line, brows knitted together.
Your legs dropped and you straightened yourself with a sigh, the sudden movement causing the orchid to drop from behind your ear and onto the ground.
“What can I do? How can I help?”
He looked almost offended for a brief moment, but his features eased before he spoke, “I don't want you to treat me like a glasshouse. I don't want pity or mercy. I want whatever you are willing to give me.”
Your heart was beating faster than ever. “And what do you need?”
Silence.
Astarion kept mixing want with need and it often landed him in less than ideal situations.
“To finally be free. I believed facing Cazador and destroying him would grant me freedom, but there is no worse cage than your own mind.”
Now, that was an answer that made your eyes widen. 
Ava had once uttered similar words.
In truth, you expected him to make it all about you, but his words lifted a weight off your shoulders.
But there was still doubt in your mind.
“I can and will be here for you,” you said firmly. “But I need you to promise me something.”
He nodded.
“Please let me know whenever I say or do something that hurts you. That night–”
He held one hand up,  effectively silencing you. “That night was different. It was the timing of it all that caused me to…”
His voice faltered.
You waited for him to find it again.
And he did. “I don't want our relationship to revolve around some silly arrangement to keep me in line. As much as I crave your blood more than anything else, I do not wish for this to feel like a transaction.”
“I've always made it clear that I more than willingly give it to you.”
“Yet my mind tells me I am using you.”
It was as if someone had thrusted a knife into your heart. “Astarion – what? You… you're not.”
The mocking voice inside your head laughed loudly, making your shudder.
“Then don't offer me your blood,” he said. “Feeding on you has become tainted. For now… I can't do it.”
He's a liar. He's used you before and he's playing mind games again.
“You can feed again whenever you're ready,” you said, finding a way to voice your thoughts in the midst of the negativity that had such a tight hold on you. “I know wildlife isn't enough.”
Astarion’s shoulders slumped. “Thank you.”
You nodded.
He didn't know how close you were to breaking into tears. Not from what he was saying, but from the vitriol that your own mind was spewing in regards to him.
He wasn't inside your head, but you were.
And it was awful.
Still, you fought through it. You had to. “I'm here for you.”
You felt his cool fingers brush against yours.
“You don't have to be.”
One by one, your fingers laced with his and you realised your hand was freezing from the cool night air.
But you could still feel his touch.
You could still feel him.
“We can stay as friends.”
Astarion let out a growl of sheer frustration. “Why must you insist on this? Does it truly matter if we are friends or lovers or whatever other social construct you think we should fall under?”
His grip tightened around you, in a silent plea. 
“We're… us. No one is like us,” he went on. “We don't need labels or to follow any relationship rules that some drunkard shoved into a book.”
His last remark earned a chuckle from you, but mostly because he was so right.
“We're us.” you repeated.
“Yes. Whatever that entails. As long as you're comfortable with me, we're us.” 
Slowly but surely, your heartbeat slowed down, falling into a steady rhythm.
“I want you to be comfortable with me, too,” you said. “Just promise to let me in. If you need time and space, I will respect that, just… don't vanish.”
Silly girl, he'll break your heart again, the voice mocked.
“I promise.”
The two of you leaned back against the wooden bench, still quite far apart, but not letting go of each other's hands.
You felt so light it was almost if the faintest of breezes could carry you away, floating across the field of flowers.
But even if it were so, you doubted he'd let go of your hand.
You'd remain anchored to him.
For better or for worse.
You'd either float or sink with him.
You liked the options, because now they existed. Before this conversation, all you had was the impending feeling that the tiniest of cracks would tear through your relationship, and that it would sink.
Now, you had hope.
After a while, you spoke again, “What now?”
His thumb caressed yourse absentmindedly. “What do you mean?”
“We're at a standstill. The Ava situation… finding a way for you to walk in the sun. We're rooted in place, it seems.”
Somehow, he managed a chuckle. “You and I made progress, did we not? Even at the expense of everything else. Isn't that worth something?”
You found him staring at you with those crimson eyes of his and that genuine smirk that always got to you.
“I suppose. You're right… yet I can't help but feel sorry that you seem to be the one with much more to lose.”
He squeezed your hand playfully, earning a gasp from you. “Darling, you don't get it, do you? I've spent hundreds of years unable to form a single bond with anyone that didn't feel tainted or doomed. Until you came along. You and that bleeding heart of yours. If there is a price to be paid for a single meaningful relationship, I'll pay it.”
Your heart clenched and the first tears began to stream down your face.
You adored him.
In that moment, you wished to melt into his embrace.
“Besides, nothing is over yet. We're quite terrific at turning the impossible into possible.”
You chuckled, eyes welling up with more tears. He shifted closer to you, letting go of your hand and brushing both thumbs across your cheeks to wipe them clean.
“There is one regret I have, though.”
A jab of fear poked at you. “What is it?”
He cradled your face in his hands. “You're so cold right now and I cannot warm you up.”
You felt as though you might melt into his touch.
“Is that your only regret?” you asked playfully.
He shook his head. “I suppose not. Striking a deal with Ava might top this.”
Your face dropped instantaneously.
“Oh, I've ruined the moment, haven't I?”
“Maybe,” you said softly as he pulled back. “But we'll get through this. Whether you decide to pursue the Wish spell or not, I am here for you. We are here for you.”
He looked peaceful.
You hadn't seen that expression in a while.
“I remember Ava once saying that pursuing the Wish spell was folly. That I either wished to be cured from vampirism altogether, or that I'd end up some weirdly washed out version of a vampire spawn.”
Oh.
And then your heart plummeted as realisation hit you.
How did you not see this before?
“Astarion?”
“Hmm? What?”
Once again, your heart raced in your chest. “Astarion… who would benefit from you not having your vampirism meddled with?”
He arched an eyebrow in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Dread took over you and flinched away from his grip, bolting to your feet. “By preventing you from getting access to the Wish spell, you remain a spawn… untouched… your blood…”
Astarion's eyes widened.
“Shit.”
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TBC
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twi-liight · 8 months
Note
Sooo. You just posted Petty Jealousy 20 mins ago and I just wanted to say that I loveeee itttt. Can we please have more? Like Astarion and the other companions subtly do somethings to the person they’re jealous of to turn them away from Tav.
Tav’s companions are just sooo cutee when they’re jealous. Wyll and perhaps, Halsin being the only sensible ones.
Thank you!
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Red With Envy ❣
The YA love heptagon of the century: Tavrem. ❥ Astarion/Tav, Gale/Tav, Lae'zel/Tav, Companions/Tav. It's Gale/Astarion if you squint. ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav. ❥ Tav is the nickname for the reader/oc insert. Their real name is up to you! ❥ PREVIOUS CHAPTER
Astarion would never beseech himself to touch a member of the working class, but things change. People change. And here he is draping an arm around Gale’s shoulders to boldly declare his presence upon the rickety, wooden table. 
“Oh.” Blink blink. Gale gawks with round eyes, then not-so-discreetly glances away from Astarion’s heavy gaze to the only present company at the table: salted bread with thick slices of white cheese, anchovies, and sop for the bread. This sorry excuse of a presentation must be breakfast, which begs the question- Is Gale’s blood so blue that he cannot skip a meal or is he trying to make a favorable impression? 
Astarion would much prefer the former. It means he does not need to scrub his hands raw from the filth of peasants after this interaction.
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“Uh, good morning, Astarion.” 
“Mm?” He flashes his fangs to grin. “A good morning indeed, my friend. How lovely the dawn breaks over the horizon, but with no one to share the scenery with! I pitied you, and out of the kindness of my heart, opted to join you.” 
Alright, enough touching. Astarion draws his arm back to poise a curled hand beneath his chin, glancing over Gale’s face in a vain attempt to study him. “Well-combed hair. Your posture,” he raises his hand to gesture at the wizard, “is much cleaner than yesterday. You’re practically glowing with morning dew, and…”
Here, he leans forward, just enough so that his nose lingers on the curve of Gale’s neck, just so his hot breath hits his skin as he murmurs, “You smell like Tav.” 
This greedy bastard slept in their tent last night because he caught some sickness from meandering about gaseous spores, and Tav cannot ignore the needy. Would that Gale be some beggar on the road and not an accomplished wizard with a higher emotional maturity than he.  
Astarion would be more comforted if he was a one night stand, a quick romp for the leader of their party to take the edge off. But anything beyond that is sabotage for his best-laid plans. 
Astarion’s smirk curls as deep, roiling darkness tug at his mind. He leans back slowly, never breaking eye contact. “They let you sleep in their tent. What a darling.” While they slept by the fire, ash and dirt swirling in their hair, Gale was embraced in Tav’s blankets and scarves. The lingering scent of something floral sticks on his skin, and Astarion recognizes it as the oleander Shadowheart presented Tav a fortnight ago. 
Gale smells something else: rusty and metallic, like the smell of a storm brewing. Has Astarion’s eyes deepened in color, like wine? His tongue feels heavy in his mouth all of a sudden. “Yes,” he agrees, thinking of Tav for some semblance of comfort. “I was sick, and they offered their tent for the night. More blankets, they said. Easier to be warm in - look, Astarion, do you have a problem with my friendship with Tav?” 
The laugh that pushes its way forcibly out of his sneering lips is sharp and mocking. Something burns in his chest, and it feels like seething anger. “My, that’s a strong word. I would say acquaintance is more befitting of your,” Astarion gestures to Gale once more, fighting back a scowl, “station. You’ve known Tav for barely a few months - they’re not quick to brand just anyone as a friend.” 
“Is that right?” Gale’s brown eyes spark with challenge. What a doll. Finally got his spine. “I ought to wonder how you befriended them, then. Anyone with half a mind knows your shenanigans are acts of desperation; you want them to like you so you can manipulate them. I know your type, Astarion.” 
“And you… You, what, you are not? You’re using Tav just as much as I am, darling. Otherwise, what are you here for? Companionship? Ha!” Astarion does not know why, but his entire being is alight. As if the sun’s rays are scorching him. He can barely contain his temper, barking out between sharp teeth, “Get a grip.” 
Gale is hardly fazed. “You’re delusional. Whatever threat you think I present to you?” He lifts his chin, eyes alight with power and rage. “Confront it. Dig your grave. Lie in it. While you’re busy lurking in the shadows, waiting for the opportune moment to dance them around your little games, guess where I will be?” 
Silent, seething anger. It burns. Astarion’s eyes are blown wide with rage as he gazes into Gale’s eyes, digging his nails into his palm as his fingers wrap around the hilt of his dagger. 
“There to catch them when they realize everything you’ve done is just an act.” Gale leans forward this time, a warning blazing in his brown eyes. “Think whatever you wish of me, Astarion, but never in your life think I would never fight for those I cherish.” 
Cherish. Astarion almost sinks his teeth in his throat to shut him up. “Good,” he purrs, fighting every urge not to massacre Gale where he sits with his dingy little breakfast. “I would be sorely disappointed if you succumbed too easily to me.” 
This would be so much easier if Astarion didn’t care about losing Gale, either. If he must concede, Astarion can admit to himself and the Devil alone that Gale is beyond useful in battle. Herald of the Weave, Mystra’s little boytoy? He would be endeared to watch Gale’s story end. Whether it be in smithereens or in the bosom of his former goddess, it will be fun to watch. 
Something in the back of his mind gnaws at his anxiety that Gale will be the one to turn Tav against him. This pretty little fool never wanted him in the party, wary of him, which is the smart thing to do. Tav was not. Tav was too easy to trust him. To easy to ply around his fingers until he had them even offer up their blood. 
He resents Gale for making space in their heart. It could have been his. 
“The dawn rises as I do: strong, and watching over two bread boys exchanging heated words like knives.” Lae’zel’s voice, sleek and smooth, startles them. Gale visibly jolts away from his proximity to Astarion’s face, brown eyes widening as Lae’zel approaches the table. She takes one gander at the spread, grabs a fistful of anchovies, and shoves it down her mouth without care. 
“You,” Gale stammers. “That was for–” 
“Silence. Githyanki must feed well to prepare for the new day. I will not hear your incoherent mumbling, wizard.” Lae’zel at least has the decency to chew with her mouth closed. She gulps the food, grips her fingers around Gale’s mug of watered down wine, and downs it with a tilt of her head. 
Astarion pouts. “We were having a moment, dearest Lae’zel. Now, I love to tease Gale as much as you, but it is my turn to press on Gale’s pretty little nerves until he explodes. He does not need to be,” he flares a hand out to Lae’zel, who is still downing the disgusting concoction with impressive concentration, “hounded.”
Gale looks confused. Astarion thinks that is not a state he often experiences. “Thank you?” 
And now he’s grateful? Astarion regrets his string of words in the last five seconds. They should go back to fighting.
Lae’zel slams the mug down on the table, perishing the rest of Astarion’s train of thought. She wipes the drink from her lips with her arm, thinks for a second, then nods, resilience plain in her expression. “I must warn you: distractions outside of our goal will be our end. I will not fail to cut either of you down if you produce disappointing results. However.”
There’s a ‘however’? Gale and Astarion exchange a glance, the animosity between them gone, replaced with more confusion. “I think you may be misunderstanding,” Gale begins. “Astarion and I-” 
“You two are lovers,” Lae’zel says with the confidence of a thousand burning suns. Astarion has never wished for that to be more true. He wants to be eviscerated where he sits right now because he cannot pick up his jaw from the ground. 
Gale looks like he just swallowed a rat. Like he is seconds away from throwing up. He needs a moment, experiencing vicious whiplash from wanting to kill Astarion to now, wanting to kill Lae’zel. “You— huh.”
“I support this companionship,” nods the githyanki sagely. 
“You are a bloody fool.” 
“No. I am efficient. Two of my enemies have been wiped off the playing field, which means there is less competition.” Hands on her hips, Lae’zel looks at the campgrounds proudly. “Make love to each other loudly.” She jerks her head over her shoulder, a sneer twisting her sharp features as she looks at them. “Try to drown out my name from Tav’s lips tonight, for I will be taking their hand and heart.” 
No fucking way. An oversight on his part. How could he have been so blind? Of course Tav is desired, not just by him or Gale, but by everyone else in the damn camp! This is much more troublesome than he realized. Fine, then. He should prioritize the rational thinkers like Wyll, Gale, Shadowheart and– oh, Karlach. Not darling Karlach. She would never turn Tav against him, would he? 
Fine. Halsin and Lae’zel can go first. 
“Momentary truce?” Gale offers. 
“You read my mind, handsome. Lae’zel, darling! Come back over here - we just want to talk.” 
❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3
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notquitecanon · 5 months
Text
Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader
Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it
Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other
TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)
this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)
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"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.
Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until- 
"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond?  an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."
"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.
"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.
"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket. 
"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already." 
"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold." 
Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us." 
An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack. 
"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."
Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could. 
The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!" 
Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you.  Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you. 
"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed.  Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared. 
You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing." 
"No promises." 
Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards  was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt. 
"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more." 
Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern. 
____
Ambushed in the night.  
A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept. 
And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow. 
Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest. 
And Astarion? Their target? 
He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger.  With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion. 
This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart. 
Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over.  Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.
You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying. 
Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion.  With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body. 
Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.
The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt. 
"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief. 
Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name. 
"SHADOWHEART!" 
None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared.  All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night. 
The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.
"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled. 
"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort.  You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you. 
___
Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart.  Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.  
And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first. 
The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.  
"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake. 
"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them." 
Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out." 
You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed. 
"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you. 
"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.  
Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste." 
"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier." 
Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something. 
For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out… He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.
Blood. He needed blood.
The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.
You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered? 
Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.
You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-" 
The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed. 
In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood. 
The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape. 
He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying. 
"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).
Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you." 
Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse? 
Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.
Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him. 
Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy. 
Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck. 
Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)
But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with. 
You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile? 
Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being? 
The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.  
“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand. 
"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."
Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it. 
Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"
Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl." 
If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.
This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?" 
Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you. 
Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.
The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation. 
Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.
___
Part Two Here!
Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.
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