#bg3 x reader
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Got a short and sweet one for ya! BG3 character(s) of your choice reacting to someone going, "Aw, you two look so cute together! You should date!" and Tav—the object of his/her as of yet unspoken affections—just smiles a little bashfully and says, "Yeah, that would be nice."
Sorry it took me a a minute to get to your ask! I had originally wanted to make them longer by including the dates they would go on, but I just scrapped that idea. Maybe if people are interested I could do that part but it would be after I do some more request. Anyways I hope You enjoy the fluff!
(Astarion, Gale, Halsin , Rolan, Wyll, Zevlor)
Astarion
It's always the same game between you two; since the beginning of your journey together, you two are always teasing and pushing each other closer and closer to the edge. It's frustrating that this game continues still. You two have grown closer, having shared in victories and losses, shared in laughs and tears, but despite all this, you and Astarion remained cautious… Instead of sharing your desire and confessing this connection is real, you opt to continue in your flirtatious game of teasing and keeping yourself at arm's length. Perhaps it's childish, but you both are too accustomed to the game to quit now, not when the risk could be so painful…
Sipping on your wine, your eyes lock to Astarions, his crimson eyes watching you with a handsome smirk on his pale lips.
"Are you staring, Astarion, coming to some realizations of the heart?" The smirk widens to a grin that flashes his dangerous fangs. Astarion can't help himself from loving the way you tease…
"Only imagining how your blood must taste after so much wine."-clever as always in a response.
"Sounds like you're trying to bite, giving yourself away so easily now?" you muse as you stroll casually to sit at his side, your eyes never leaving each other.
Carefully, Astarion brushes away your hair from your neck, revealing the bruised mark left by his bite only a night ago. He can't help but lick his lips at the sight, "You're the one who gives themselves away when you ask me to feed from you." You feel your blood rush to your cheeks… He's not entirely wrong.
Brushing your hair back over your neck, trying to hide the evidence and cover the blooming rush of blood to your face, you two are caught off guard by what sounds like a slurring Shadowheart chiming into your conversation, "Aw, you two look so cute together flirting like that. You two should date already." She says with a devious smirk.
You roll your eyes. "Yeah, that would be nice," you say sarcastically; that would be the day…
Astarion studies you for a moment, watching as you roll your eyes and fold your arms to guard yourself further, but he swears he catches a glimpse of something…an opening… Before you know it, you watch him downing the remainder of his wine and taking the game up a notch, "Why not go on a date? Scared after one night alone with me, you will be smitten, darling?"
You give him a challenging look, "Maybe I will. Maybe you will be the one falling for me…" Astarion leans closer to you, "Sounds like a fun challenge… let's go out tomorrow night…"
Shadowheart can be heard gasping and giggling from the growing tension, never one to be out. Down you down your drink next and lean in close enough for only Astarion to hear you, "Fine, but the first one to fall loses… winner gets to bite the other…" Astarions hands tighten to a fist, and excitement fills his eyes with a new spark; you have yourself a deal.
Gale
Gale's breath continues to sound shaky, and his hands become more clammy by the second… He's trying so hard to repress the thrumming in his chest, but it's proving to be quite difficult at the moment. With your body pressed so close to him…he thinks at any moment he could burst into a spectacle of himself…or blow up. It has been a while since he's absorbed something, but teaching you this spell is taking precedence now.
You have expressed wanting to learn magic from him. You had been intrigued that he attended the prestigious Blackstaff Academy, and despite being a fighter and not relying on magic, you had begged for some lessons from a proper wizard. Gale didn't know if it was the fact that he has always liked to teach or that it was you who was pleading oh so sweetly, but he never answered yes to a request so quickly.
Now here you two are, the weave wrapped around you as he carefully guides your body to the proper stances, his hands on your hips that then slide to your hands praying to any god that is listening you don't not his clammy nervousness.
He need not worry, though; the only thing you seem to be able to focus on is the feeling of magic flowing from his fingertips that spark along your skin as he moves your hands. His enchanting voice whispers incantations in your ear, making the tips burn with blush. Gale's lips are so close to your face that all you would have to do is turn your head and give him a look…or even maybe ask him… for a kiss-
"Aw, you two look so cute together! You shouldn't waste time, Mr. Dekarios; you two should date!" The voice is the unmistakable Tarra, who has recently joined the camp and harps on Gale to shave his beard or settle down practically daily.
Gale lets out a long groan, causing you to chuckle. The break in concentration causes the magic weave you two worked so hard to conger to break away. Gale, fully embarrassed, starts to argue with her through hissing whispers. All you can do is giggle at the adorable sight of a man arguing with his tressum as he towers over her small form.
"Mr. Dekarios, you're not getting any younger, you know. If she seems to like you even with that thing on your face, might as well go for it." Gale's face is bright red as he tries shushing her. "Tarra, could you lower your voice? I do not need you…helping!"
Who is he kidding? He could use her nudging him along; it at least helps you finally get what you have been thinking about for a while now. In a surge of confidence, you walk over to the arguing pair, letting your voice break through their bickering: "You know, Tarra, you're right. A date would be nice… If Gale was willing…"
The argument abruptly pauses, and you watch as Gale's face turns three shades redder. He stares at you blankly, eyes wide in disbelief. It isn't until Tarra swipes his leg that he breaks from his daze. "Don't just stare! Ask Tav out; it might be your only chance before they change their mind from your awkward gawking!"
Gale swallows his dry throat, "Meet you at the library tomorrow?" You smile and nod. "It's a date!"
Gale stands there watching your figure as you walk away…." The library…really?" "Oh shut it, Tarra, I panicked!"
Halsin
Another accident, and you find yourself being patched up by no other than the camp's gentle druid. Halsins hazel eyes look like golden pools of honey in the firelight, and you're unsure what is heating your body more, the crackling fire or his hands as they wrap your wounded limps. Though he's a huge man and you're not exactly the definition of delicate, Halsin still treats you with softness and light touches; when you first met, you thought he would be loud and crass…but that wasn't Halsin… so full of surprises for you to discover.
"These accidents keep happening more and more frequently… you're sure you're not just trying to find ways to spend time with me?" you feel your heart stir, and your lips curl into a grin, always so full of surprises… The most recent discovery is his unapologetic flirting…
"Truly, I am just accident-prone. You healing me is just a perk to my affliction." Halsins eyes flash with something, and his face curls into a smile as he finishes your wrappings. "A perk, huh?" Halsins softly brushes his knuckles against your plush thighs, "I could think of better perks to indulge in if you are willing…"
Your stomach ties itself in an excited knot; damn, he needs not to tease you; you're surely to pass out to all your blood rushing to your-…as you go to say something else, two giggling voices break your concentration.
Shadowheart and Astarion have their eyes on you two with broad smiles. "Aw, you two look so cute together…" Astarion coos, then Shadowheart chimes in a second, "You should date..or something to that effect…" You give them a death glare, silently screaming at them not to ruin this moment as Halsin chuckles.
Hearing Halsins laugh causes your heart to swell, and you can't help but utter your response, "Yeah, that would be nice." That makes his laughing come to a halt, feeling your face burning in embarrassment you keep your gaze to the ground.
"Well then…" his large hand lifts your chin, your eyes meeting his, his smile addictive, and then his voice… "Just name the date, and I will be yours."
Lost in the moment your brain evaporates from rational thought to pure desire, "How about right now…"
"Cheeky!" Astarion calls but is promptly silenced by Shadowheart
Halsin leans in his honeyed breath, teasing your ear, "Meet me by the river in ten minutes…"
Rolan
He doesn't mean to stare… Rolan can't help it; you're just so magnificent… Not only are you stunning to look at, but you're also so incredibly kind. Nobody had asked you to start working at sundries you just offered after everything. Rolan couldn't believe that the gate's mighty hero wanted to have a slower-paced life by working at his newly required shop.
Though he should, it only made sense that you would offer to help him with the shop. You had been completely smitten with him from the first moment you saw him at the grove. Your affections only grew the more your paths intertwined, so you wanted to work close by and help him. It was nearly impossible for you to be away from him. He had become one of your closest confidants and your friend.
You hoped your affections would have been evident at this point, but Rolan still hadn't asked you out or attempted to allude to courting you; you're starting to lose hope that he ever would. Maybe fate distended you two to stay just close friends…Maybe he is meant to be in your life, just…not in the way your heart hoped… it's better to have him as a friend than not at all, right?
You try to push down the heart-aching thought and continue to gather tomes for customers' orders. And just like fate seems to have it, the one time you need to finish the order request happens to be on that pesky wobbly shelf at the bottom of a stack right on the top shelf because, of course, it is…
Lea'zel, despite Cal's best efforts to teach her otherwise, is still learning how to stack the books properly… Rolan had given up the task of correcting her when she just clicked her teeth, stating, "As long as they are away, it should not matter, Wizard…" You would have to be a fool to try and argue with her, though Rolan did attempt…
Putting down your stack, you struggle on tip-toes to get the tome down. Despite Rolan's warnings, you stand on the bottom shelf for just the slightest high boost, then it starts to tip…and it's too late to avoid crashing down. Squeezing your eyes shut to brace for the pain of being toppled by books, you find that you don't feel books hitting you. You feel a warmth on your back and a familiar hand on your shoulder.
Looking up, you see Rolan pushing the wobbly furniture back in place as he keeps you pinned between him and the shelf. Turning around, you smile at him as your dashing savior this time around. Rolan gives you a smile in return, but before he can playfully chastise you for ignoring his warnings, a sharp wolf whistle breaks your focus.
"Aw, you two look so cute together like that. You should date!" Rolan's face gets redder, and you feel your voice squeak out of you in surprise. Before he can continue taunting, Lea'zel pinches his ear and drags him off, muttering, "Let them come to their senses finally." Of course, they both noticed before you two did.
In a whisper, you find some courage. "Yeah, a date would be nice…" Your face is as bright red as his. Still pinned, he leans down closer, his hand moving down your arm. "Go out with me on a date…" You bite your lip in excitement. With an eager nod, you say yes. Finally, he asked.
Wyll
You could have asked anyone to spare with you, but Wyll was by far your favorite, and not only because he was absolutely handsome, but also because he was an incredible fighter. Wyll always kept you on your toes and even had some good one-liners and witty remarks. Plus, your mind often wanders back to that time he swatted your rear with the blunt side of his sword to taunt you; a shiver still races down your spine at the thought of some more Wyll spankings…
You two had been clashing swords and swapping excited grins during this match. Finally, with a swift movement, you're able to bat away his weapon and swiftly sweep his legs, making him crash to the ground. You're quick to get on top of him and wrestle with him till, finally, you're getting both his wrists over his head. Your excitement is shown through your smile, matched by Wyll, as your body presses closer to his to keep him pinned and at your mercy.
"What is this? Four to two? You're off your game, Blade of Frontiers." You taunt with a devious smirk. "How do you know you're not right where I want you?" Wyll squirms, making you tighten your grip. You lean down to his face to tease back, but a sharp whistle from Karlach stops you two. "Aw, You two look so cute together~ You should go on a date…or something…" She gives a wink before walking away.
Wyll feels himself blush but smiles as he sees the red rush on your cheeks. You see his grin, and you can't help but smile back down at him. "Yeah, that would be nice." Your sultry words make Wyll's heart feel like it could burst. Leaning down to his lips, Wyll takes the opportunity to free his hands and pull you closer, then flips you to your back, pinning you down now.
"Go out with me…call me old fashioned, but I think I should take you for a date before I ravish you…" With words like that, how could you not agree?
Zevlor
Old habits die hard…and Zevlor's habit is taking long walks around the city, something similar to perimeter checks he used to do back in the day. It's hard to go from having daily routines to nothing strenuous, so he made his walks part of his day, even though walking in a city you see every day dulls after a while.
Though lately, those once quiet walks filled with reflection are a lot more enjoyable now that you have joined him. At first, Zevlor was unsure why you would want to take the sundown walks with him. But he enjoyed your company with him too much to ask at the risk of scaring you off. It's not like you would be interested in an older man like him anyway. It's Best not to get his hopes up.
Little does he know, you're completely enamored with him. He could read a dictionary or do something as dull as pulling weeds, and you would still find a way to include yourself just to be close to him. So when you learned about his daily walks, you were sure to invite yourself. Zevlor, ever the kind soul, was just happy for the company. Your two took your walks together to talk about your philosophy on life, your past, and, much to your delight, some ideal gossip. Zevlor taunted you for being nosy, but you defended yourself by saying that it's always good for a person to be aware of a city's dealings, even if they might seem small.
Zevlor treasured these small moments with you, listening to your endless chatting and hopeful ideas. Sometimes, you would even pass some jokes to get him to laugh. But today's walk was different. He was going to put his feelings forward. Was he going to confess? No… he's too shy for that. He was just going to see if he could hold your hand. That should be innocent enough, right?
While on the walk, you're watching the setting sun shine against his red skin, making the fires of his eyes look golden. You two have slowly started to drift closer and closer, hands softly brushing together, conversation flowing. Then, right as Zevlor is working up the nerve to reach for your hand, he hears someone call both your names.
Turning, you see a cozy-looking Alfria and Lakrissa, hand in hand. "Aw, you two look so cute together! You should date!" Alfria chimes before Lakrissa nudges her girlfriend not to tease. Zevlor feels his face turn marron before quickly clasping his hands behind his back. You think yourself equally blush before smiling and calling back to the two girls, "Yeah, that would be nice!"
The two girls give each other a look before they grin ear to ear at Zevlor's flushed expression. They quickly stroll away to let Zevlor make his next move. With a deep breath, Zevlor grounds himself before straightening his posture and turning to you. "Tav, would you do me the honor and accompany me on a date tomorrow evening…"
You try to bite back your excitement, but with his blushing face and your heart squeezing, you can't help yourself; you feel like you could explode, "Yes! ah…I mean…I think that sounds absolutely lovely Zev…" He hopes you don't notice how his tail starts to wag, and you hope he doesn't see when you shoot the two girls a thumbs up.
#bg3#baldur's gate fic#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate 3 fanfiction#bg3 fanfic#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 x reader#bg3 x you#bg3 x tav#bg3 rolan#bg3 gale#bg3 astarion#bg3 wyll#bg3 halsin#bg3 zevlor#zevlor x reader#rolan x reader#halsin x reader#wyll x reader#gale x reader#astarion x reader#astarion#gale dekarios#wyll ravengard#halsin#rolan#zevlor
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Perchance… could I request the bg3 companions with a Tav who has a bleeding heart? They’ll do what they need to do, kill who they need to, etc. but they still are easily tricked by just basic human kindness and often feel guilty for killing folk and whatnot. They’re ridiculously caring towards the party as well, often putting their needs above their own.
Karlach
Karlach gets it. She really does. But she’s been through (literal) Hell and has learned to be a bit more cautious
But she adores how much you love and trust people
I almost see her as someone who would go behind after you to set people straight if they conned you or anything like that
Something about it is so heartwarming ;) to Karlach, watching you take care of everyone - herself included. She wants you to look after her forever while she does the same for you
Shadowheart
almost disgusted by your altruism, in the beginning. She sees no point in it and points it out readily to you
Deep down though, even in the beginning, she likes it and almost envies you for it. She feels bad for speaking down to you especially after she’s had time by your side
Shadowheart enjoys being doted on and care for. She enjoys that you treat your friends like family and that you’re all carving out a little place for y’all
She’ll pout if you’re fussing over someone more than her, though she tries to deny it
Lae’zel
Similarly to Shadowheart, I think at first Lae’zel would find your actions unnecessary and dragging. She’s on a time crunch and knows where she needs to go, and helping all these people isn’t helping y’all
I’m not sure Lae’zel would ever truly warm up to being so willing to lend a helping hand. But I think she would appreciate and commend (and come to respect) you for being able to care so deeply for others (she’s not so certain she’s capable of that magnitude)
Forces you to take care of yourself and won’t hear shit about it; no she didn’t cook this meal just for you to ignore it bc Shadowheart needs to traumadump some more, eat you doofus
Gale
Gale finds it endearing, if a little worrisome. He’s happy to let you fawn over your camp mates but he’s draws the line at being so easily swayed by strangers
He tries to be diplomatic when he’s urging you away from suspicious individuals bc he really doesn’t want to hurt your feelings or make you feel like you need to change, he’s just trying to protect you to his best ability
Gale’s not particularly used to being doted on, but it’s almost…relieving, in a way. Refreshing?
He does work very hard to make sure you’re taken care of as well, cooking good meals and forcing coercing you to bed at a reasonable time
Wyll
heart eyes
Wyll himself sees (or wants to see) the world through rose colored glasses so he’s enamored that you do
He’s also probably one of the only ones to really understand your guilt over killing, even when necessary. He’s happy to talk you through your emotions over it and never hesitates to reassure you that you’re doing the right thing
flusters when your attention turns to him, but doubles it back in repayment to you
Astarion
Astarion seethes at first. He hates your tender-heartedness, hates how kind and soft you are, how loving you are with everyone, it’s just grinds against him
As he sorts through his trauma (and comes to appreciate your care, towards him and your friends at least) he stops whining about it…as much
He will absolutely shut someone down if they’re trying to use, manipulate, or fool you. Astarion only refrains from more…permanent silencing solutions because he knows you wouldn’t like it
He does, however, preen under your attention. True, no-strings-attached care? It takes him a long time to comfortable with it but he cherishes it
Halsin
While he certainly adores your tenderness, he tries to caution you over being too willing to blindly believe someone
Halsin is happy to comfort you through any remorse or guilt of course, but is quick to remind you that this is simply the way the world works
Watching you take care of your little band of misfits makes him melt. You care for them and then he cares for you when you come to him at the end of the day
Halsin would carry your burdens for you if he could, instead he’ll travel by your side and help you help others (while giving you looks that make you swoon let’s be real)
#astarion x reader#wyll x reader#halsin x reader#gale x reader#shadowheart x reader#karlach x reader#lae’zel x reader#baldurs gate 3 x reader#bg3 x reader
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HI !! can i ask for Karlach, shadowheart and halsin protecting an injured reader in battle
and anyone else you wanna do
giant tiefling woman please save me 🙏 pls and thank u
Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3
Character(s): Halsin, Karlach, Shadowheart
Note(s): You're so valid for that, anon. Here you go
Halsin
He sees you're injured and not doing well so he quickly shapechanges to his bear form and rushes to your side, not caring if enemies take that opportunity to attack him.
Halsin can't heal you as a bear (at least this type of bear), but he'll do his best to take any incoming attacks so you can down a potion or something.
When he does have the chance, he'll turn back to himself and give you as much healing as he can, giving you a quick once over to check your injuries. When you're out of battle then he'll hold you close and take care of you. For now, he's keeping you protected.
Karlach
If she didn't start the battle in a rage then she's definitely going into one when she notices your state. Karlach is tough and does not care about being hit as she makes her way to you.
Karlach might also just throw a potion at you if she can't get to your side immediately. It's a really good potion though so you don't get knocked out by how hard she accidentally threw it.
"Come on, soldier. I'm not letting you fall yet," she'd say as she stands in front of you, being your shield as her axe is quick to kill the enemies closest before she prepares for anyone else appearing.
Shadowheart
Considering she's the healer, she's trying her best to conserve her magic. But at seeing you getting injured badly, well she's quick to summon Spirit Guardians and beyblade her way over to you, sending you a healing word too.
Shadowheart will stay in front of you, if you're going to try and keep fighting then please just stay within her Spirit Guardians range.
If you can just stay close to her and not get hit or hurt then she can down one of those potions to give her extra spell slots that she'll quickly use to heal you as much as she can.
#bg3 x reader#baldurs gate 3 x reader#shadowheart x reader#halsin x reader#karlach x reader#karlach cliffgate x reader
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Okay perhaps this sounds odd but imagine Astarion starts to disassociate while intimate with Tav and so he uses their established safe word, only to be bewildered when Tav actually listens to him and stops and asks if he’s okay and tries to comfort him because nobody has cared that much before 😢
OH GODS WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME (i love it)
warning for suggestive content :)
For as long as Astarion's been genuinely intimate with you, for no other reasons but simply because of the affection the two of you hold for one another, he has always been in control.
It soothes him, in a way, to be on top. And as much as he enjoys watching you come undone beneath him, there's a more frustrating reason behind why he always feels the need to be the one to push you down onto whatever surface he deems decent enough at the time. From above you, he can see every little twitch in your body, every shift in your expression, and most of all, he can control what's happening, unlike his centuries spent as a seductive tool for Cazador's own needs.
He knows you're not like those fools. He knows you're different, and you're special to him. But the gnawing voice in the back of his head always forces him to pull you in, to hold you closer, to make love to you.
It's fucked up in so many ways.
"I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."
But when you look up at him with those imploring, loving eyes, the voice seems to go quiet. He swallows the dryness of his throat, unable to think of anything but how wonderful your touch feels on his skin, and he thinks he could drown in this forever. He's putty in your hands, whether he wants to admit it or not.
"Well? Don't be a tease just standing there, darling."
In what feels like minutes, he's a mess. He's making sounds he shouldn't be making, fingertips digging into your hips as if they're the anchors keeping him from finishing too early. He breathes heavily into the crook of your neck, groaning when you caress the sharp tip of his ear between your fingers.
The only thing keeping him from spilling is the impending embarrassment he'd feel for doing so this early on in the night.
Then, everything stops.
"You're so beautiful," you whisper.
They're only words. They're not ones he's heard little of---in fact, he's heard it too much in the past two hundred years. In an instant, memories of the nights he spent under strangers, forced to shove his mind into its darkest corners just to get through their own pleasures, flood his consciousness. The sickening taste in his mouth afterward, and the need to rub his skin till it goes raw were not uncommon. It was routine. A sick part of his life that he'd rather forget.
You don't mean it the same way they did. They only said things like that because that's all they could say. They didn't know him as anything but the husk of a body he resided in. He knows you are saying the words to him. Not to his body but to the very person he is.
But the word comes spilling out his mouth, and immediately, you freeze.
You actually stopped.
Of course, you would. You're you.
"Are you okay? Did I do something?" you reach to cup either of his cheeks, and he stares at you as if you're a star that's fallen from the sky. He blinks, slowly.
"I don't know, I just---" he searches for words. "--you haven't done anything wrong, darling."
You wait for him to finish patiently. Gods, he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve you.
"I only remembered something I'd rather not," he plasters a crooked grin on his face. "It's quite alright. We can continue now if I haven't ruined the mood."
You pull away from him, and he fears you'll leave.
Moments later, you return with a glass of water. Wordlessly, you hand it to him, and he only stares at it, confused beyond belief. Only once he notices the way you gesture to the glass does he drink it, and you finally climb back into bed, lying down beside him.
"Come here," you open your arm, motioning him to come closer.
"Darling, as much as I'm all for experimenting, that's a strange position to have sex in."
You smile, shaking your head. You don't explain any further, only continuing to hold out your arm.
Hesitant though curious, he slowly lies down beside you, his head just above your chest and slotted between the space below your chin. With gentle hands, you pull him closer and toss the blanket over both of your bodies.
It's warm. Strange, but warm.
"You don't have to wear a mask with me," you whisper.
His eyes grow wide, and his chest stills. He doesn't have many tears left after 239 years, but there's an unfamiliar squeeze in his chest that tells him if he were still 39 and alive, he might have. Astarion wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into where he can hear the steady beating of your heart.
Later, when your eyes begin to droop, he mumbles.
"Tell me I'm beautiful again."
"You're beautiful," you say softly. "With or without your pretty face."
You might be imagining it, but you feel him smile against your skin.
#astarion ancunin#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#astarion#bg3 x reader#bg3#fluff
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bathing.
𐀔 pairings: cast (astarion, gale, wyll, lae’zel, shadowheart, karlach, halsin) x female!tiefling!tav (reader).
𐀔 content warnings: suggestive, everybody is a little freak, non-consensual voyeurism, implied scent kink (gale), mentions of scars, afab anatomy. tiefling anatomy.
𐀔 sypnosis: what is a warrior to do when all their companions are peeping toms?
𐀔 author’s note: they are freaks and its been very long since i’ve written. please forgive a lady if what she’s written is unappealing.
“Can you keep it – fucking quiet?!”
Astarion whisper-yells at the entire party of people hiding within bushes and treelines, all fighting tooth and nail like rabid animals for a peek (and taste) of their ragtag, frustratingly attractive leader’s curves.
They didn’t even mean to stumble into eachother, each to their own blindly traversing through the thickets of the woods towards the nearest river. Tav simply mentioned having to retire early to take a bath (much to Gale’s dismay), and they all hungrily jumped towards the opportunity like dogs to a meatless bone, the one of the hopefully many chances they’ll see you naked, vulnerable, and shivering – even if it’s only due to the lack of warmth in the river’s streams.
It’s wrong, debauched, even. Hells, even literal devils, Karlach and Wyll, wear faces ridden with shame. Of course, they (namely Astarion and Lae’zel) poked at the others stalking as if they weren’t shamelessly doing the same.
The tension in the air was thick, each a barrel on the verge of explosion ready to wipe out the recently discovered possibility of rivalries and competition – but they couldn’t blame eachother; there was just something about you that made you so very enticing. They all thought it was incredibly silly to think only one person would want you.
“Well,” Astarion clicked his tongue in displeasure, having his private time foiled. Still, he smiled sardonically. “we’re all degenerates, it seems. We’re all looking forward to having a... fun time.”
A deep rumble came, and it surprisingly did not come from the forest ground. It was simply Halsin, all too polite and calm smiles. Astarion groaned; he was sick of this big fucking oaf with hearts for eyes and a log of wood for brains. “We are not depraved for simply yearning to admire our friend in a state of tranquil—”
“Oh, please! Don’t act like a saint in front of me!” The vampire spawn huffed, hands on his hips. “We’re all here for the same reason, we all want to see Tav fucking naked, no point in lying now!”
Tints of red and pink all rushed to everyone’s faces, and even Shadowheart was reduced to fiddling with her fingers together. Though awkward coughs ensued in the air, not a single word of denial was uttered.
Karlach is first to speak up, ever brazen. “It’s true!” She says with her signature sharp smile. “I wanted to see her tits!”
(Lae’zel and Astarion nodded approvingly to Karlach’s honesty. Halsin and Gale quietly shared their sentiments on their preference to your ass. Shadowheart and Wyll could not disagree to both.)
Amidst their busy conversation and debate regarding your body’s fine qualities, the alarmingly close and approaching noises of branches snapping and leaves crunching had rendered them silent, panicked shivers and goosebumps on their skin. With shared glances and only a few split seconds to react, the party floundered and flailed for whatever they could use to stay hidden.
“Settle down, you circus; Tav’s coming!” Wyll is the first amongst the party to silently and comically dive into a bush with Karlach, clutching their tails to avoid it rustling about in excitement. Halsin had thrown Gale and Astarion atop a tree’s thick branches before joining them. Lae’zel, disappointingly, camoflauges just well with the greenery, watching Shadowheart flounder about and settle for lying on the ground with grass over her face.
“All you filthy ska'keth.” Lae’zel hisses, letting everyone know of your now visible presence, the halting of your footsteps along the other edge of the river. “Enjoy the show.”
Across the distance, their focus had been shifted to you and now solely you.
You quietly groan, trudging towards the river you’ve been searching to no end, you set down your basket of fine oils, herbs and waxes as your armored limbs ache and practically cry for a dip in the clear stream. With no haste, you take in the cool night air, this little moment of peace, away from prying eyes you’ve fought long and hard to obtain. Sweat trickles down your throat, your tail swaying in contentment in the calm atmosphere.
Quickly deciding you’ve had enough of the crisp air, you reach towards your body to unclasp and unfasten the many buckles on your durable armor – starting with the iron top, quickly taking it off to reveal your bare, battle-worn chest and hastily discarding the metal on your legs, throwing them aside in favor of letting the cold air bite at your naked, scarred body before you go into the water; allowing your body a little moment of respite from the suffocation and heat of tight, bloody armor – even letting your tail sway around freely instead of being constricted to being stiff. A content smile creeps its way onto your face.
You lightly step your way from the sand to the edge of the water, continuing to walk until you’re trembling from the cold, until you’re hips-down in the water. A grateful sigh is pulled from your lips as you start to wade about, your hands subtly working to wash the dried blood, gore and grime off of your body and hair – using the oils and wax soaps of sweet woodruff and wine from your basket, even scrubbing your horns. A little part of you finds this normalcy almost unfamiliar, uncomfortable; it’s been quite a while you’ve taken care of yourself. Your thoughts start to drift; prior to your abduction by the Nautiloid ship, were you ever taken care of, like this? By other hands, even?
(You hope so.)
Another sigh is dragged out of you, though wearier as guilt treads within you. Just a little moment of peace, of indulgence before you go back to the dreadful task of keeping your companions and yourself alive and fighting. Just a little more time. You think you deserve it.
A silence was washed over the forest, and the party as they all beheld you and your battle-worn body. It felt almost sacred, like doing this would have them damned to the Hells and below but it was simply too captivating. Your bodice was a web and a product of war, and they were caught mesmerized – with only the dense forest and one another to witness their quickly unravelling need for you. But even then, they felt some semblance to pity. What they wouldn’t give to the gods right now to be by your side and give you some tending to.
The ridges down your back, the swaying base of your tail, the alluring image of your hips and ass teasingly disappearing into the water below, the silhouette of your horns – that untroubled smile on your lips – they all drink it in with their eyes in a fashion similar to Astarion’s throat would with your blood.
They savor it for as long as they can, before stepping out of the trance as Gale himself not-so-quietly attempted to clamber down from the rough-bark tree he was settled in, dropping down to the dirt and crushing the leaves loudly and ungracefully. Shadowheart gaped with mortification at him from the ground, everyone wishing to every god above you would have mistaken the sound as a particularly large animal, perhaps an owlbear and not a wizard along with an entire party intruding on your privacy.
“Gale! What in the Nine Hells are you doing?!”
Astarion had settled for whisper-yelling once again, pointing at him accusingly from his position atop the tree’s branches besides Halsin. Gale waved his hand, silently telling him to shut the fuck up, before urgently pointing at your discarded armor and clothing, then proceeding to give him a big smile and two thumbs up.
Surely enough to the mortification of the party, he quickly cast Misty Step over himself to travel to your area and hastily swiped (stole) anything soft – including your unattended bandages and undergarments, taking a small moment to put it to his nose and re-casting the spell to return below the tree within a few seconds. He wallowed in his pride before with a swift motion, tucked the newly acquired materia into the pockets of his robe much to the discomfort (and mild envy) of all of them.
“A man has to do and take what he can.” Gale reasoned to nobody in particular, nodding solemnly as if he just shared a piece of wisdom. He suppressed a yelp as Lae’zel then threw a rock at him, followed by another as Astarion thwacked a small branch straight to his forehead from above.
“Just leave it.” Wyll snidely commented, fighting with his life to tear away his eyes from your moonlit form, breaking out of a trance. “We should leave, go back to camp. It’d be suspicious if everyone just disappeared.”
“Ugh, you are such a killjoy, Wyll.” Astarion rolled his eyes but complied, scaling down the tree quietly, much unlike Gale earlier, who was still fiddling around his pockets with your intimates. “A party pooper, even.”
As repulsive the idea to leave you was, it was reasonable. Begrudingly, everyone quietly sat up or climbed down and quietly attempted to find their way through the dense, dark forest, sharing little observations and hushed chitchat along the way. And soon enough, the party found themselves in familiar territory, now gathering around and settling down near the campfire like they previously had before you announced your leave, as if they didn’t just claw their way through eachother earlier to see a scrap of your vulnerability.
The fire cast a warm glow over the party as they immersed in chitchat, a few (namely Shadowheart and Astarion) pestering and even offering a bargain to Gale for the underclothes he had nicked earlier. The wizard was not deterred; fair and square, he wagged his finger as if to say nuh-uh to the seething two. It was only shortly after, that you came stumbling back into camp like a lost fawn, hair and body language calm and loose but the armor remaining stiff on your body.
Karlach coughed to let the others know you had arrived from your personal time. “Soldier! You’re back!” You greeted her with a nod, before raising a brow and sweeping your eyes amongst them. Gale swallowed, placing a protective hand over the pocket that held your garments.
“You would not believe what happened.” You sighed in utter distress before plopping yourself down besides Halsin and Astarion on the log to let the fire embrace you with warmth, piquing everyone’s interest and attention with intense ease. “A wandering owlbear ate my clothes.”
They all collectively either guffawed or choked on their spit, Lae’zel scoffing and Astarion groaning amongst them. Right. Of course, you would have thought it was a fucking owlbear. Thieving owlbears that take normal, musky clothes instead of shiny armor.
“Ah, owlbears.” Gale tutted and sighed with faux sympathy, nervously chuckling and shifting to hide the lump in his pockets. “They’d eat almost anything, really.”
Astarion shot him a bewildered look, as if to ask, don’t you? You swallowed two of my books last night!
“You can borrow my clothes, for the night.” Shadowheart butted in, suddenly slotting herself behind you and setting a reassuring palm on your shoulder. You smiled at her, gazing up at her gratefully. “Thank you, Sha—”
“Well, you can have my clothes!” Karlach and Lae’zel shot up in unison.
“Sharing your old filth, I can sew them new clothes!” Astarion argued, until everyone started refuting eachother and proposing that you take theirs and whatnot.
You sighed with exasperated fondness, immensely troubled but somewhat used to it as you watch your companions pointlessly banter, having little doubt that by the end of the night, you’d have a fair share of everyone’s wardrobe into yours.
Still, you hope to the very bottom of your heart that the “owlbear” that stole your clothes had a full tummy, at least.
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#bg3 x reader#baldurs gate 3 x reader#baldur's gate 3 x reader#astarion x reader#wyll x reader#shadowheart x reader#karlach x reader#lae'zel x reader#gale x reader#halsin x reader#tavrem#as they say#this was fun to write#this was very lame actually#sorry but its been so so so long since ive written a fic much less published it
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⋆ ☀︎ ⋆ Halsin, Gale, & Astarion NSFW Headcanons ⋆ ☀︎ ⋆
Pairings: Halsin x You, Gale x You, Astarion x You
Summary: Their favorite positions with you. 😌
Warnings: NSFW, 18+. GN reader/you/Tav. Sex, praise, kissing, romantic. Soft Astarion. Established relationship with reader/Tav.
A/N: I’m sick at home and had thots. I apologize for any mistakes, haha. Just some soft smut for these men. Thanks for reading!
Halsin 🌱
Halsin doesn’t mind any position as long as you are thoroughly pleasured. But…
Halsin does love it when you ride him when he’s flat on his back.
Whether it’s in a bed, a grassy field, your bedroll, the soft banks of a river…Halsin will have you like this anywhere.
To see you in control of your pleasure and taking what you need…he goes feral.
Halsin also loves feeling up your body while you do so, squeezing and caressing and worshiping with his giant hands as he watches you bounce on his cock…he could have you like this for hours.
Not one single inch of your body is left untouched.
Feeling the softness of your ass or breasts (if you have them) under his palms, tracing his hands over your hips and thighs, murmuring praises as he does so.
You can still lean down and kiss him passionately, swallowing one another’s grunts and moans and loving sentiments.
Halsin knows he still has a little power, matching his thrusts with yours, pushing up into you, and increasing your pleasure.
Your reaction is always immediate as he fucks up into you like it was his task given to him by the Oak Father himself.
Witnessing your head thrown back in ecstasy, your lips parted and eyes heavy with lust as you gaze down at him with intense love…sometimes that’ll end him right then and there.
Gale 🔮
Missionary King. Hear me out.
It’s the intimacy of it all, being so close to you, faces millimeters apart, relishing the soft gasps of his name in time with his thrusts.
He can kiss you, entwine his hands with yours above your head, whisper sweetness in your ear, and sense your entire body under his.
Gale loves when your legs wrap around his waist, wordlessly encouraging him to take you faster and deeper, or how your hands grasp and tangle in his hair or dig into his back.
He can take in every expression of pleasure, how stunning you look, how much love is in your eyes even amid intense coupling.
You capture every expression of his, too. The way his hair hangs around his face, his powerful thrusts precise just like his touches, and his breathless “I love yous” between desperate kisses.
Gale prefers taking you in the comforts of your shared bed in his tower in Waterdeep, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have you laid out on his desk, or perhaps in the study in front of the fireplace if the moment is right.
In exceptionally passionate moments, he’ll hook your legs over his shoulders to drive into you and make you see stars, usually bringing you both to your end quickly with the intensity of your devotion.
In this position he can wholly worship you like the god(dess) you are to him.
Astarion 🌙
Astarion enjoys being with you in the confines of your bedroom with no distractions.
Just you and him, only focusing on exploring one another’s bodies and becoming comfortable with your newfound intimacy.
Astarion loves beckoning you to his lap while he sits against the headboard of the bed.
He prefers you riding his cock like this, at least until you orgasm first, and maybe he’ll switch up positions.
He likes it mostly because it gives him full access to your neck and chest, but there’s another reason.
Astarion might not admit it out loud (maybe later into your relationship) but he loves just…being able to hold you in such an intimate moment as well.
Astarion will wrap his arms around you and lavish your neck, kissing and nipping and inhaling your scent, leaving love bites as he goes.
Tasting you and feeling you like this makes it all real to him, knowing your connection was real, and that your connection was more than purely physical.
It was real love, and it made his heart want to burst out of his chest.
He can nibble at your chest or just bury his face into your soft skin and get fully lost in everything that is you.
Of course that doesn’t mean his hands won’t wander, cradling the back of your head and giving your ass a hearty squeeze when the moment calls for it.
You never miss the quiet gasp that leaves his lips when you lightly tug at the curls of his hair and kiss him deeply, or the gentle smile that graces his lips when you are both finished and spent, watching you fall asleep in his arms.
-ˏˋ⋆ Thanks for reading, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! ⋆ˊˎ-
*Banner made by me. Photos taken from BG3 wiki*
#Halsin x you#Astarion x you#Gale x you#Halsin x Tav#Gale x tav#Astarion x Tav#bg3 x reader#bg3 x Tav#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 smut#Astarion x reader#Gale x reader#Halsin x reader#Halsin bg3#Astarion bg3#Gale bg3#halsin silverbough#astarion ancunin#Gale of Waterdeep#Gale dekarios#owlwrites#x reader
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Astarion, once he's comfortable with you, is definitely the type of man to sleepily reach for you when he realizes that you've rolled out of his arms at night.
Like the moment, and I mean the moment, that he doesn't feel you wrapped up in his arms, he's up. Sure, he's groggy as all hell and he can't properly see anything around him -- but all he knows is that he's not holding you when he most definitely should be.
He'll push himself up onto his elbows, squinting to see that you've turned yourself away from him and rolled out of his arms. Your back is turned to him, but he knows that it wasn't intentional.
With a fanged yawn, Astarion reaches for you again. His arms loop around your waist and turn you around, tucking your head beneath his chin. Instinctively, your legs tangle with his own, your arms adjusting to wrap around his midsection.
He grins to himself, content again.
#colonelarr0w#astarion fanfic#astarion x reader#astarion fanfiction#astarion bg3#astarion#bg3 x reader#bg3 fanfiction#baldur's gate 3 x reader#baldur's gate 3 fanfiction#bg3#baldur's gate 3
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Size Difference
Imagine:
Being halsins mate and he loves to loom over you and taunt you with the size difference between you and him but he loves it, laughing when you struggle to take all of him and it slowly makes him insane.
"That's it my love your almost half way down, come on keep going, fuck your gonna look so good with your stomach bulging just with the size of me"
#bg3#bg3 imagines#bg3 imagine#bg3 x reader smut#bg3 x reader#bg3 x reader smut imagine#bg3 smut imagines#bg3 smut#baldur's gate 3 halsin#baldur's gate 3 x reader#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate 3 smut#baldur's gate 3 smut imagine#baldur's gate smut#baldur's gate 3 x reader smut#baldur's gate 3 x reader imagine#halsin x tav#halsin x reader#bg3 halsin#halsin#halsin x reader smut#halsin imagine#halsin x reader imagine#halsin smut
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Longing
Halsin x Fem!Reader
A/N: I have been burning with an intense CRAVING for Halsin and there is such little fic about him (although there are some good ones out there 👀) so I had to do my part and add to the pool 😏 hope y’all enjoy!
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, reader is insecure about her virginity, talks of inexperience, love confessions, Halsin is a sweetheart, references to NSFW content. Very very minor spoilers for act 2.
Part 2
The fur of the rabbit is soft between your fingers as you prepare it. Yet, despite having a knife in your other hand and your task being a delicate one, you can’t seem to focus.
Your eyes keep drifting back to the druid across camp chopping wood for the fire. The axe is a large one, heavy - heavier than you’d be able to lift. Yet the large elf manages to bring it up above his head and swing it back down with a grace you never understood how he possessed.
The muscles in his shoulders ripple with each movement, accompanying the rythmic thump of the axe through wood. His soft grunts as he pulls it from the stump he’s using before placing the next log onto the surface and starting the process all over again.
“The rabbit is already dead, darling.”
The familiar voice rips you from your staring as your head whips around to see none other than your vampiric companion standing over you, a smirk tugging at his lips. You huff at him before looking down to the rabbit by your knees and heat rushes to your cheeks. What should have been a simple skinning job to get the meat ready for dinner has turned into a mess. Cuts in the wrong places, the hide nowhere near usable anymore.
You look back up just in time to see Astarions red eyes go from you, to Halsin, then back again. His smile grows. He shifts his feet, one arm resting across his chest as he gestures with his other to Halsin.
“You know, you could paint a portrait. It would last longer.”
Your cheeks somehow get even hotter, as you turn back to the rabbit in front of you, doing a much better job than earlier.
“Leave me alone, Astarion,” you mumble, cursing internally when the elf lowers himself to the ground beside you, arms resting on his knees.
“And why would I do that, when teasing you gives me so much joy?”
You can’t stop the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Okay, well you got me all flustered. So now that’s out of the way, did you need something or did you really interrupt your reading to bother me?”
The vampire sighs, leaning back on his hands as he looks over to you. “What I need is for you to finally jump that druids bones.”
You nearly choke as the words leave his lips, looking around to see if anyone heard and feeling heat creep up your neck once more as you see Shadowheart failing to hide a chuckle.
You turn to face your friend, eyes narrowed. “Could you be a little more quiet? I don’t need the whole camp hearing you.”
Astarion laughs this time, loudly, and it draws more glances than you’d like. You roughly shove the man next to you before he can speak.
“Your next words better be a whisper or I’m going to stab you ” you threaten, poking the knife in his direction.
Astarion places a hand over his heart, faux hurt in his eyes. “You wound me, darling. I’m just trying to help you. Plus,” he gestures to the camp, “it’s not like your attraction is a secret, nor Halsin’s.”
You shake your head turning back to grab another rabbit, embarrassment welling up in your chest. “He doesn’t…” you trail off, getting defensive. “Nothing’s there, Astarion. So can we please just drop it?”
Of course, he doesn’t.
“Look,” he starts, “all I’m trying to say is that neither of you are benefiting from holding back so…indulge, for once. Gods know we all deserve it.”
You ignore him. Curling in on yourself at the mention of…indulging. There nothing wrong with it of course. Everyone at camp has blown off steam along this adventure. Just…not you.
And the vampire must be able to tell too, because at your silence he straightens up, brows pinching in the rare way that shows he’s concerned.
“Wait, have you never…?” he gestures vaguely in the air.
His words, despite their genuine curiosity, strike a chord in you. You stand abruptly, tossing your work to the ground and stabbing your knife in the dirt.
“No I haven’t. Not that it’s any of your business.” Your words are louder than you intended and draw the eyes and ears of your other companions.
Astarion softens, obviously not expecting this reaction. “I didn’t mean to upset you-“
You clench your fists at your sides, interrupting him. “You never mean to Astarion but -“ You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. “You’re such an ass sometimes.”
You turn on your heel and storm from camp before anyone can stop you, ignoring the concerned gaze of a certain druid.
———
The water is cool against your skin as you squat by the stream’s edge, rubbing at your hands as you try to get the blood off of them.
You feel foolish now, storming off like that. But Astarion pointing out your inexperience just struck you. It’s not something that’s ever bothered you before. Especially not in recent months since dealing with the tadpole. You all have more important things to worry about.
But the moment you rescued Halsin…it’s like something changed. You were instantly drawn to him. His kind smile and thoughtful words. His care for everyone and everything in nature.
And he flirted with you.
The memory is still fresh in your mind. The night of the tiefling party after you had stopped the ritual at the druid camp and saved Halsin. You were worried you were talking his ear off, but he was attentive the whole conversation. Answering your questions and asking some about you.
Then he said those honeyed words. Suggested celebrating by spending the night with someone special. Implied he would spend it with you if his mind wasn’t elsewhere.
You withdraw your hands from the water to drag them down your face as more memories surface.
More flirtatious banter and kind words. Thoughtful conversations and fighting side by side. The night sat by your bedside nursing you back to health after a particularly nasty fight. After Ketheric Thorm almost took you out.
Your side still aches with the memory. But the thought of his hands with their soothing healing glow, makes the ache subside.
You sigh, sitting back into the grass as your eyes lock onto the slowly gurgling stream, Astarion words playing over and over in your head.
Indulge, for once.
You want to. Gods do you want that.
You’ve spent many sleepless nights thinking about it. About his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, the sweet words he’d no doubt whisper against your ear.
You shudder at the thought before shoving it away. Because any time he hinted at that - showed any interest in you - you would be so elated before insecurity took over.
Halsin’s views on love and intimacy are no secret. You’d asked him once about current lovers and while he did confide no one currently held his affections back home he also expressed that there were others in the past.
Others. Plural.
And you’ve never been with anyone. Not physically or emotionally, you’ve never trusted anyone enough.
Not until now.
You sigh, frustration creeping back in as you press the heels of your palms into your eyes before quickly standing up. You need to apologize to Astarion and finally, maybe, talk to Halsin.
You turn on your heel to do just that when you run straight into a solid mass. You gasp, stumbling backwards just as two strong hands reach out to steady you, gripping your wrists firmly.
Once steady, you look up to see none other than the man haunting your thoughts smiling down at you.
“You must have been very deep in thought for someone like me to sneak up on you, little one.”
You have to suppress a shiver at the nickname. A moniker he’d given you since you teased him about his size at the beginning of your friendship.
You shake your head, moving to step away and only stopping when his hands let go only to slip down and take your own gently.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I was just…thinking.”
Halsin stares at you for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face before he steps away, gesturing down the first path, one hand still in your own.
“Walk with me?” he asks. “I know being in nature helps me clear my head of even the darkest thoughts.”
You give a hesitant nod and follow him as he turns towards the path, not able to stop the smile when he doesn’t drop your hand.
———
The walk is mostly silent, a comfortable silence, but silent nonetheless. And you are grateful for it, not sure what you would say if Halsin were to ask what has you so upset.
But, silence can’t last forever it seems, because eventually the large Druid breaks through the sounds of nature surrounding you to speak.
“I overheard your conversation with Astarion,” he says, voice gentle. Probing, but not not forcing you to talk if you do not wish.
You stiffen, your pace slowing slightly, wanting to pull away from the man at your side. But his sure grip on your hand keeps you in place. The warmth of his skin on yours puts you slightly at ease.
“You…you heard that?” you ask, cringing internally. “You were across camp.”
The druid chuckles, gesturing to his ears with his free hand. “One of the curses of us elves. Impeccable hearing. Even when we don’t wish for it.”
You can feel your shoulders creeping up to your ears. Embarrassment settling in once more. “You were listening to us? To me?”
Halsin shrugs. “Not intentionally,” he admits, slowing his steps until you’re both stopped and he’s facing you. “But I find my attention turning towards you more often than not these days.”
His words tie your tongue and before you can gather enough sense to respond he continues.
“Nature works in mysterious ways, little one,” he tells you, eyes never leaving your face. “There is no one way to traverse it, and others journey do not define your own. Each one is unique, as it is intended.”
His words are beautifully woven, as always. And despite his cryptic deliverance, you know the meaning behind his words.
He’s comforting you. And once again, he speaks before you can detangle the jumble of thoughts in your head.
“And,” he reaches out, placing a curled finger beneath your chin to urge you to look up at him, “if it’s any encouragement, I seek you out as much as you do me. Possibly more so.”
Your eyes widen, heart stuttering in your chest at his words. He…does he feel the same way? Rationally you know he does. But that ever familiar self doubt, the tiny voice in your mind has always brushed away the flirting - the kind words and gentle touches as just part of his nature. None of it is reserved just for you.
Right?
Halsin smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners gently as he looks down at you. “Is that really such an outlandish thought? That I return your affections?” He pauses, “unless my heart has run ahead of itself and I have misread-“
You stop him then, reaching up to place a staying hand on his own beneath your chin.
“No! You haven’t…you haven’t misread,” you assure him, trying to still your racing heart.
His smile never falters, his other hand finally coming up to cradle the back of your head, teasing soft strands of hair between his fingers.
“That is good to hear,” he says, pulling you ever closer, his nose almost brushing yours, “it puts this old druid's mind at rest.”
Gods, you can’t breathe. The air in your lungs refusing to expel as he lean even closer, lips a hairbreadth away from your own. Your body sings with anticipation, your skin hot despite the cool air ushered in by the sun sinking below the horizon, the days last rays barely filtering through the trees.
“Can I kiss you, my heart?”
Halsins words are soft, barley a whisper and nearly drowned out by the sounds of nature around you and the roaring of blood in your ears.
You nod. “Please-“
The word barely passes your lips before he descends upon you, sealing his mouth with your own.
It’s both everything you expected and completely surprising at the same time. His hands are sure as he pulls you into him, one hand still cradling your head as the other slips down to your hip before wrapping around your waist. Yet his lips, the kiss itself is…soft. Gentle. Loving. The action speaks louder than any words either of you have said to one another. Louder than the words you never worked up the courage to speak.
Finally, your mind catches up with you, and your hands slide up his chest to clutch tentatively at his shoulders.
Halsins still hasn’t broken away from you, and when his tongue brushes against your lips you let him in. You tug him closer then, one of your hands sliding up to rest at the back of his neck eliminating any empty space between you as his tongue slides against your own.
He only pulls away when he must sense your need for air, but he doesn’t go far, lips pressing gently to the corner of your own, and then another to your jaw.
You’re breathless.
Chest heaving against him, as he pulls away just enough to look at you once more.
“As much as I’d love to continue…” his hand squeezes your hip gently, “we should make our way back to camp. I can imagine our absence as stirred gossip with our vampiric companion and..” he sighs, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”
You can’t surprise the shiver that runs down your spine, or the smile that tugs at your lips.
“I’m…I’m okay being overwhelmed if it’s like that,” you tell him breathlessly.
Halsin laughs, a deep down genuine laugh that makes your heart sing even as he steps away from you.
“Then I will overwhelm you in all the ways I know how.” He promises, eyes trailing over you heatedly.
Your stomach does a flip at his words, and the effect they have on you must show on your face because Halsin chuckles again, leaning in to press one last kiss to your cheek before tugging you back in the direction towards camp.
“Another night, my heart,” he says, thumb brushing over your knuckles from where your hand remains in his own.
You let out a shaky breath, and nod, smiling as you walk closer to him. “I’m holding you to that.”
“I hope you would, though I doubt I will forget such a promise,” he assures before letting silence blanket you both one more.
You can’t stop the thrill that runs through you at his words.
Yes, I’ll hold you to that promise indeed.
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Perhaps could I request the bg3 companions going through Tav's sketchbook and finding that it's riddled with drawings of each companion, but especially them. Maybe it's the early stages of a romance or smthn?
I’ve been slowly spinning this around in my head, yessss
Gale
At first, Gale thinks journal is a book you’ve left for him. He’s not really one to go through your personal belongings after all. But upon opening the journal and finding swaths of drawings of your party and him, he’s thrown a little off kilter
He returns it to you immediately (read as: he fights with himself for a good ten minutes to stop looking at the sketches of himself and return the book to you) but asks you about your hobby
Listens very intently to however much you’re willing to tell him. Gale would ask, “are those me? or do you know some other roguishly handsome wizard with a penchant for fancy robes?”
He’s trying Very Hard to downplay his feelings about the whole matter. He’s not used to being the admired one…but he’s certainly not complaining
Shadowheart
As she hopes everyone will respect her need for privacy, Shadowheart strives to do the same for others. Despite many opportunities to peak at your journal, she resists and eventually asks you about it directly, but with no pressure
shy!Tav, nervously showing off the sketches and trying to gloss over how many of these drawings are of Shadowheart - after a deep breath, Shadowheart ignores the blush rising on her skin and asks about some of the other drawings
Confident!Tav, flipping through the sketches and happily showing off the images of Shadowheart especially - Shadowheart flusters, sputters out a near incomprehensible jumble of words and rushes off
Either way, the moment lives Rent Free(tm) in her head and she hopes you’ll show her the journal again
Astarion
STUNNED. like, almost drops your sketch in surprise bc wait. Holy shit. Is that him??
recovers smoothly, plays down the way his adrenaline has spiked
It does not matter how good the portraits of him are, sketches or fully finished drawings, he is Memorizing those pages
If you draw him with any soft expression, he’ll point out that image to you and be like “I think you’ve messed up on that particular reaction, dear” (that’s how he looks at you, shh don’t tell him)
Wyll
He spots you watching him one day as he’s training, your eyes flipping between him and the journal in front of you. Eventually he gives in and wanders over, inquiring about what you’re up to
when you show him the spread, sketches of him doing swordplay (and a few close headshots) - Wyll is both very impressed and very flustered
He compliments your skills, though jokingly questions the subject of your drawings. Certainly someone else would make a more attractive drawing, he says, gesturing vaguely to his mismatched eyes and newly acquired horns
Is surprised by the fierce frown you give him, the disapproval in your voice at his suggestion. You’re drawing him for a reason. Thoroughly chastised and a little embarrassed, Wyll thanks you (he doesn’t elaborate beyond that but you get the idea)
Karlach
Karlach is too afraid to touch anything that seems even vaguely flammable, but she’s seen you scribbling into your journal on many an occasion. Eventually her curiosity gets the better of her and she asks you about it
If you’re hesitant to show her, she’ll back off…but kind of pout like a little kid. Not in an attempt to make you feel bad but just bc that’s who she is. If and when you decide to show her the sketches, she’s super hyped
Jaw on the floor. She’s not got the patience or skills for drawing, not really, but your talent blows her away. And then she sees the drawings of her and she’s like - mouth open, heart eyes
jokes about how you’ve drawn her, with a huge grin on her face the whole time “how long have you been staring at my thighs to get the drawing this accurate? should I get a new outfit for your next page?”
Lae’zel
She’s never really cared much for her appearance - don’t get me wrong, she thinks she looks great but she’s never really been the one to stare at her reflection or anything
But Lae’zel sees herself in your sketches, drawings of her in softer states, in relaxation, and shes…surprised
Part of her bristles - she’s a strong warrior on a mission, she doesn’t need you seeing her as soft. But a different part of her…eases. Relaxes. You see her as an individual worth affection.
Lae’zel wouldn’t comment much about the drawings, but she would ask to sit and watch you draw, if it wouldn’t bother you. Your skilled hands, the way your brow furrows as you draw. Yes. She likes that.
Halsin
At first, Halsin is simply impressed by your talents. Artistry has always been something he’s enjoyed, no matter the form, so he’s happy to get to see your work
When he comes across the pages devoted to him, he’s thrown off a little. He’s used to being admired, if we’re being honest. As long as he’s lived and as many people he’s been with, it happens. But he’s not used to…this. Being part of the art but without any expectation of him.
Traces a finger over the lines of his face - somehow you’ve captured a look that makes him seem so…heroic. Is that how you see him? Warmth feels his chest and he goes to seek you out
You don’t get much of an answer, when you ask why he’s scooped you and paying you extra attention, nuzzling his face into your hair
#baldurs gate x reader#gale x reader#astarion x reader#karlach x reader#wyll x reader#Lae’zel x reader#halsin x reader#shadowheart x reader#bg3 x reader#baldurs gate 3 x reader
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°•Astarion Being Touch Starved•°
The dastardly rogue would scarcely ever admit it- not in a thousand years.
But the sensation of your touch sends a thrill through his heart so loud, so potent, that sometimes he swears it still beats.
Beats only for you.
Sure by the light of day Astarion has a devil may care attitude and more sass than anyone really ought to.
And though you've both voiced your sincere affections to each other, he is never shy to continue with his playful flirtations towards you.
But that does not mean he views your relationship as a trifle. As something to play at.
You are the first person he's cared for in hundreds of years. The first he's opened himself up to. The first to show him that he can be free.
And with that long sought after freedom he wishes to spend it with you. For as long as you'll allow him the gift of your presence.
But though Astarion is unshackled now, the hauntings of Cazador never leave his mind. Not entirely.
On more times than he'd like to acknowledge, he has awoken from horrid nightmares of his past enslavement.
Cursing himself for even bothering to close his eyes in the first place considering he doesn't actually need to sleep.
But then there you are, right beside him.
Warm and vulnerable. Slumbering soundly and oh, gods, does he love your warmth.
The chilled Vampire would bathe in the heated feel of your skin if he could and often while you're tucked in the crook of his arm, dreaming away, he takes small liberties.
Letting just how starved he is of gentleness be shown.
Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, kissing the column of your throat, breathing in your scent.
Admiring your beauty. Committing each freckle, scar and feature to memory.
Dining on the feel of your form close to his and relishing in the company of one who truly, faithfully loves him. Just as he is.
So reverential of your body. Savoring the perfume of your blood, the thump of your heartbeat. Your every breath a hymn to his ears.
Of course you know how starved Astarion is. You can read him like a book.
But his yearning for tenderness is an unspoken truth between you two.
So you attend to it in your own subtle way.
Holding hands with him while around camp. Sitting next to him beside the fire. Your thighs touching. Placing your hand between his shoulder blades while walking.
Your gaze never straying from his for too long. Your medicinal touch the one to mend his wounds after a rough fight.
He thinks of you as a goddess. Your warmth a healing balm and he thanks his lucky stars everyday he met you.
The feel of you beside him is enough to make him enjoy living again.
Astarion's love for you eternal and ever growing.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#baldur's gate 3 astarion#bg3 astarion x reader#astarion x reader#astarion imagines#astarion imagine#astarion headcanons#astarion headcanon#baldur's gate 3 x reader#baldur's gate 3 imagine#baldur's gate 3 headcanon#bg3 x reader#bg3 fic
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Astarion Headcanons
Fluff dating headcanons
This man deserves it. Astarion x Gn! Reader
(Bg3 Astarion spoilers?) + not proofread
As we know that Astarion is not used to this kind of treatment or care. For 200 years he used his body to lure people for his master. And was treated poorly on top of that. This is something he isn’t used to.
Small physical touch
A simple squeeze of the arm, putting a hand over his, Astarion craves for it.
They’re so simple, yet, holds so much meaning.
Such pure and innocent intentions behind them. Intimate, not sexually. Just so much emotion and such a strong connection from a simple touch.
He likes it.
Even a simple, quick or a lingering kiss is just so nice. Astarion has kissed, slept, and held many, but not like this. It’s quite exciting.
The feeling of his beloved’s finger softly running through his hair got a sigh of content out of Astarion. His eyes fluttered closed. The way the their fingers goes through his curls, barely scratching his scalp. It was peaceful.
This was peaceful.
“Star.” They whispered. Astarion opened his eyes. He sat up from laying on their lap, facing his partner. A shaky breath aired out as his eyes shut as they placed their hands on his cheeks, brushing along his jawline. No words were exchanged. None had to.
Their feelings, thoughts, and love for each other were so loud despite not one opened one’s mouth.
No words could describe how much they cared for another.
Astarion grew to return such acts with the intention and his feelings being present. It was difficult at first. It was…odd for him. It was either awkward in his mind, or the spiral to disgust and the feeling of tainted leaking through the cracks of his heart and mind, perhaps his soul at well.
But the reassurance from his lover always pulled him back.
Nicknames
The nickname given to him? Star. It was definitely a shock to him hearing that as his nickname. He can’t help but be a little flustered.
He loves it. Astarion would live for it. Astarion loved it even more once he figured out the reason why his lover calls him Star.
Of course, he calls his dear, love, treasure, other sweet pet names, but the one his love gave him doesn’t seem to be defeated.
The night was chilling as the stars twinkled, dancing in the moonlight. Astarion sat on a big rock with his lover. Their gaze focused on the balls of light in the dark sky. Astarion’s was locked onto them.
“Do tell, my dear. Why ‘Star’ as my nickname?” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Their eyes meets his, a small, gentle smile appearing on their face.
“Your name has star in it. A-s-t-a-r-i-o-n. Stars twinkle, they’re beautiful , like you.” Astarion let out a huff. Perhaps a small scoff.
“Well, I am beautiful.” A charming smile plastered over his face. His lover laughed, placing a hand over his as they leaned forward.
“You’re my star.” They whispered, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. Astarion paused, processing their words and the simple touches.
“You really are full of surprises.” Astarion whispered.
‘Their Star.’ He thought. It brought swirls of warmth inside his chest
Astarion’s love for the pet name Star becomes addictive. He gets slightly annoyed and disappointed when his partner doesn’t call him Star.
Hell, his treasure could even make him beg to be called Star if they wanted to.
It honestly irritates him how much he enjoys the silly little pet name. They really don’t hold much value or worth anything…or is that him and enslavement to Casador for centuries?
Nether the less, his love is here to show him what real is. What true love really is.
Perhaps the pet name is a spark of light for him.
His comfort (lover’s scent and warmth)
Nothing is more precious than holding someone with such passion. True passion.
Astarion struggled most on this. Surprising as it is, but the comfort involves holding someone. Being so close to their body with trust, letting your guard down,
But getting comfortable with having comfort is the most troublesome.
The fear of it being taken away becomes dread.
His nightmares are over, but they still plague his mind, making it hard to break through and open up. After a while, he did. He regrets not being able to break through before.
Whether it was a nightmare, or the utter crave of affection and his comfort, he always gets it. Astarion creeps into the tent, sliding an arm under his love’s, wrapped around their waist and pulling them close.
He presses his face into their neck, taking a slow and small sniff. Just smelling their scent, not just their blood, brought so much warmth and comfort. The warmth, the feeling of their body made all his stress move away. Astarion smiled to himself, pressing a lingering kiss on his lover’s shoulder, before whispering:
“Wherever you go, wherever you are..” Astarion paused, hesitant to continue as the fear and feeling of disgust creeps back in. Trying to pull him back to what he knows. Yet he fights it. The arm around their waist caused a small squeeze as he took a shaky breath before continuing.
“Is forever my home.” He whispered, forcing them out and choking over his words out.
“You are my true home.”
Maybe, just maybe, the fight for something new is worth it.
#fan fic writing#bg3#bg3 spoilers#bg3 astarion#astarion#baldur's gate 3#astarion x reader#astarion headcanons#bg3 x reader#fluff#astarion fluff
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It had been a complete accident. Truly.
Mindlessly running your hand through his hair, the tips of your fingertips unknowingly brush against the tip of his ear, and it makes him groan.
Thinking it had been out of pain, you tear your hands away from his head, eyes blinking wide. "What happened? Are you okay?"
And instead of a scowl, you find that his cheeks are multiple shades darker than usual--almost pink. He mumbles something under his breath, then shifts his entire body around so that his face is buried into your stomach, arms locked around your waist. He says something, this time so muffled you can barely hear the words they're supposed to form.
"I can't hear if you're talking into my stomach."
He says it louder this time. "...good."
"What?"
Then, finally, he whips his head just enough to meet your gaze. "It feels good."
Your brows lift, and you slowly slip your hands back into his hair. "This?"
"No--I mean, that too, but--" he's flushing brighter now, and your eyes practically sparkle at how flustered he sounds. It's a rare occurrence, but Astarion at a loss for words is something you hold dear to your heart. "--my ears."
"Your ears," you repeat, hands slowly inching to the sides of his head. You carefully trace the shape of his pointy ears, watching as he practically shudders, melting into your touch. Even your own cheeks seem to heat. "Like that?"
He wordlessly nods, opting to bury his face into your stomach again to avoid facing the power he's just given you. And you use it well, gently massaging his skin with your finger pads, drinking in the way his body reacts to your touch. "Oh my god."
Hours later, when your head lays on top of his arm and he has you close to his chest, you smile up at him cheekily.
He notices the way you're struggling to keep in your laughter. "What?"
"What does it feel like when I touch your ears?"
He nearly chokes on his own words, horrified by how upfront the question is. "It--I don't know, it just feels nice."
"Nice is an understatement."
He groans. "Please, darling, this is humiliating."
And despite the way you continue to poke fun at him and the way he feigns annoyance, whenever the two of you are alone, he always opts to put his head in your lap, and you choose to knead your fingers through his curls.
#astarion ancunin#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion x tav#astarion#astarion x reader#bg3 x reader#fluff#bg3 tav#bg3
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>Forever in love with the fact that Astarion canonically watches you sleep.
There's nothing but pure fondness in his eyes, his cheek resting on his cold palm as he takes his sweet time to examine your features. To admire the way your chest rises and falls with each breath you take, the way your face twitches every once in a while, likely from a dream you're having— and the way a small smile sets on your lips, perhaps even dreaming of him.
In a world where he knew nothing but torture and pure agony, you were nothing but his holy light. His saviour, his angel— the one reason he now believes in love, rather than pretending and seeing people as means to an end. Perhaps falling in love with a sacrificial lamb wasn't the smartest thing, yet he could swear his cold, dead heart felt the slightest hint of warmth whenever he was reminded of the chance you gave him.
“Hello, darling.” His tone is even and sweet the moment you stir awake, not bothering to hide the raw admiration taking over his red eyes. With the same love his gaze holds, you take your time to admire the man that Astarion is— the way his sharp fangs show whenever he speaks, the creases around his mouth and nose, the crow's feet, and the barely visible beauty marks all over his skin.
Your hand comes up to cup his cheek, spreading its warmth all over his usually cold skin, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone with a tenderness he's not used to. Despite a part of him almost begging him to pull away, he stays still, allowing you to caress his pale skin, soaking in the affection you're giving him— the life he dreamed of, something that seemed so unattainable in the past is now his reality.
His own hand comes up to cup your cheek as well, watching you lean into his touch with no hesitation or fear, a raw display of trust that'll warm his heart for every single century to come. He leans closer, his lips lightly grazing yours until you close your eyes, a silent promise of love ringing in the air the moment his lips finally make full contact with yours, kissing you with a gentleness so unlike someone his kind, reserved only for you.
#astarion ancunin#astarion bg3#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#baldurs gate 3#astarion romance#astarion x female reader#astarion x f!reader#astarion x you#bg3 x reader#bg3 x you#bg3 x fem!reader#bg3 astarion#astarion#baldurs gate astarion#bg3#baldurs gate#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate iii#baldur's gate#astarion x y/n#bg3 fluff#astarion fluff#astarion fic#astarion imagine
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Something to care for
Astarion x f!Reader
Summary: Astarion seeks comfort when he is terrified of losing you to his former master.
Word Count: 2,1k
hurt/comfort, angst and fluff
[ AO3 ]
Fleeting glances across the tavern, jovial laughter followed by a touch to his arm, and Astarion has exactly what he needs. Your trust builds fast over his charming words, so you agree to accompany him to the mansion without doubting his intentions.
Astarion dissociates, follows his usual routine as he has done for over hundreds of years by now, while you remain blissfully unaware that you are already caught in his trap.
The scene feels painfully familiar, and yet it doesn't at all.
Uneasiness spreads over him.
No, this doesn't seem right.
Why are you here?
The next moment you lie on his old master’s bed, your eyes closed and shallow breaths emitting your lungs. A dark silhouette is bending over you, its mouth glued to your neck.
Cazador.
Panic creeps down Astarion's spine.
No, this isn't right at all.
His thoughts start to race. He needs to free you from this monster's claws - now.
Cazador looks up as his lips form a hideous grin, blood running from his chin and spluttering on your motionless body.
“A very pleasant bouquet you have brought to me, boy. But you know of that already, do you not?”
Astarion freezes.
The malice in his voice shatters his ribs with the blow of an axe.
He wants to scream, to get you away from here, but his body doesn’t respond.
Suddenly the whole scene shifts and Astarion finds himself with his fangs buried deep inside your neck, warm liquid pouring in his mouth while your hand rests loosely on his nape.
An unbearable dread rises in him.
He desperately tries to tear himself away, to stop feeding on you, but an invisible force holds him down, leaving it impossible to let go.
He must be going mad.
“You sought out to drink from thinking creatures, did you not? Go on then, lavish yourself on her blood! Bleed her dry.”
Cazador’s command unleashes like a fist to his skull.
Astarion knows that he is enjoying this, and it makes him sick.
He concentrates back on you, frantically looking for a way to get you out of this.
“It's alright, Astarion…” you whisper. “I know this isn’t… you.” You seem on the verge of fainting, the hand that rested in his hair slipping, your pulse weakening.
The fondness in your words almost breaks him.
He wishes to plead, to offer himself - to give Cazador everything he demands, if only he would allow you to leave unharmed, but he can’t speak.
Instead, he feels Cazador’s violent grip push him down, ramming his teeth deeper in your neck.
Astarion’s eyes wet and his body trembles while he’s obliged to swallow more of your blood. The thick liquid spills over his lips onto your neck, drips to your hair and paints the collar of your blouse.
Astarion knows that he’s hurting you, killing you, yet he has no control over his own doing. He can't stop, even if his whole body longs for nothing more than to release you.
His senses start to dull, colourful dots exploding before his eyes, while he’s unable to form a single coherent thought anymore, entirely helpless to this monstrosity he inflicts on you.
“What’s the matter, boy?” his former master taunts with a malignant chuckle and positions himself so that Astarion has to look at him. “Isn’t this what you craved? To be free of me, to do as you please?"
His laugh evolves to a gruesome crescendo, echoing through the dreary halls that Astarion once called his home - mocking him, a punishment for his disobedience.
Astarion summons his remaining strength to banish Cazador from his mind and fixates back on you.
He must save you, now, otherwise you will -
*
Astarion's lungs are on fire. His fangs ache, and his chest is bursting.
He grasps his throat and chokes as he remembers the taste of your blood in his mouth.
Gods, what has he done to you?
He takes a moment to perceive his surroundings.
This is not Cazador’s mansion, he realises, but your shared tent in the camp you made near Rivington.
The essence of his nightmare returns with agony: his fangs piercing your neck, Cazador’s order to bleed you dry, while you were completely defenceless against his torment. The image is almost too much to bear.
With haste, he begins to fumble the woollen fabric of his bedroll in search of your warm body. He has to ensure that you are alive - that he didn’t hurt you.
Then his hand finds your wrist and he stops in his motion. He pushes the fright that shrouds him aside and feels for your pulse, careful not to wake you. There it is - a constant throb at his fingertips.
Despite the evidence that the violent scene was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, he can’t bring himself to fully accept that there wasn’t an actual threat - that you are safe. Yet he has no desire to worry you with his musings, so he starts to slowly pull his hand away, before he notices that it’s already too late. You sit up beside him, rubbing sleep from your tired eyes.
You look so adorable that his chest grows tight.
“Astarion? Are you alright?” Your brow furrows when your gaze meets his, concern lingers in your voice.
Astarion opens his mouth, only to press it shut again as he feels hot tears forming in his eyes. He swallows hard. He wants to reassure you that it’s nothing, to tell you that you should go back to sleep, but the ferocity he committed in his nightmare robs him of any speech.
You give him an understanding expression and lift your blanket. “Do you want to come over here?”
He nods and shifts towards you.
You wrap your arms around him and pull him into a tight embrace. Astarion sinks his head onto your chest and listens carefully to your heartbeat - to make sure you are truly unscathed. That he didn't kill you, didn't bleed you dry - that he has not become like Cazador.
The pulsing sound flows in a soothing rhythm.
He closes his eyes and inhales your familiar scent. The weight that is crushing his lungs slowly begins to dissolve.
You are so warm, he thinks, so comforting, always so affectionate.
“It’s alright,” you breathe and rest your lips at his temple. “He can’t hurt you now.”
There is no need to ask how you know what haunts him, you simply do, and Astarion buries his face deeper in your chest, grasps the fabric of your tunic and lets out a deep sigh. A few silent tears he has tried to hold back spill from his eyes, dampening your clothes.
Your hands draw circles on the small of his back, up to his shoulder blades, until they move to his hair and tenderly stroke along his ears.
He concentrates on your touch. You are here, with him, unharmed - he didn’t hurt you.
A calmness enfolds and for the first time since he woke he allows himself to relax.
Astarion suddenly wonders if he ever had something like a home, a real home, somewhere he felt safe - not Cazador’s mansion, the place from his nightmare, where he endured nothing but torture and cruelty.
Something he could choose for himself - willingly. Not something he was forced to, but something he wanted.
For centuries he was used to the pain he suffered under Cazador’s rule, but you've proven how different his life can be. Through the time he spends with you, he's learned that he is valued as a person. You make him feel seen - show him compassion and patience, despite him missing the words at times.
You give him honest, loving affection, without any vile intent or in expectation of getting something in return.
You are the only one who is like that. Who genuinely cares for him, who loves him. No one was ever kind to him, only you. No one has a heart like that.
Maybe a home isn’t a place, he thinks, but a person.
He feels your fingers twisting gently around his curls, while he listens to the sound of your beating heart, and wishes to never let go of you.
But there is still Cazador and the Rite of Profane Ascension to overcome, and his mansion is barely a tenday away from now.
Astarion wants to shove the thought aside, but knows he can’t. Not when there is so much at stake - when you give him so much to care for.
He envisions the ancient ritual Cazador has planned.
If he was to complete the rite himself, would he become even more powerful than his old master? Would this newfound power offer you protection - keep both of you safe?
But what if you came to harm once you entered his residence? Hells, what if it would be his fault?
The fear of losing you clings its relentless hooks back to his core.
Astarion sinks deeper into your arms and sighs.
No. He cannot lose you - not to the Absolute, not to Cazador or any other madness you have to encounter along your way.
His shoulders tense, leading you to squeeze them fondly.
“He won’t win, Astarion,'' you vow with the determination that Astarion knows too well by now. “We will beat him.”
At first he wants to scold you, point out how naive you were to think it would be an easy task to confront his past tormentor, but instead he pauses to consider.
He remembers the foes you've come across on your journey. There have been gruesome, vigorous creatures among them, and yet you were able to vanquish them in the end.
Have you gathered enough strength to destroy a powerful enemy like Cazador, though?
For a second, Cazador’s liveless body appears in front of Astarion’s inner eye.
Maybe, there was a real chance…
After all, to ensure that both of you will be safe - truly safe - Cazador must be ended, one way or another.
“Is that so?” Astarion clears his throat and frowns. “Well, when you sound so resolute I find myself actually imagining us succeeding.”
Your features soften as you lean forward and put a kiss to his brow.
“I know we will,” you reply confidently. “Besides, for some reason I was declared the leader of our little group, so I'd suggest you better put some trust in my word.”
“I’m afraid being the leader of this group full of weirdos is hardly something to be proud of, love,” Astarion murmurs against your neck.
“That’s rich, coming from the weirdest of the bunch,” you tease as you tousle through his curls. “You’re a rogue who’s terrified of clowns - shall I go on?”
Astarion snorts at your remark. “I'm not terrified of them!” he protests with a pout. “It's just.. They make me uneasy, alright? And they're not original - or funny. Honestly, I’d rather witness a goblin mating ritual than any of those wretched clown shows again.”
He removes your hand from his hair to intertwine your fingers with his. Then he recalls the image of the clown you visited at the circus the other day and his face turns into a grimace.
“Keep telling yourself that, but I know for a fact that you were absolutely petrified the moment you saw Dribbles.”
“That wasn’t even a regular clown - that beast was also a shapeshifter!” Astarion exclaims in feigned bewilderment.
You raise an eyebrow and wait for a moment, leaving Astarion curious, until you pin him down to tickle him all over.
“Stop it, you cheeky thing!” Astarion presses between his laughs while he tries to shelter his most sensitive parts from your ruthless fingers.
When he eventually manages to roll on top of you and grab your wrists, you look at him lovingly and catch your breath. He feels the remaining knots in his chest come loose.
Then your face turns serious again. “I promise you, we will beat him.”
“Stubborn as ever,” Astarion states and clicks his tongue, before his lips curl up to a genuine smile. “But perhaps I’ll remind you of that promise when the time comes.”
“By all means, I hope you do,” you assure and return his smile, your thumb softly brushing his cheek.
You have a rare talent to relieve the tension, he notices. To make him feel light - to make him laugh even, a real, honest laugh, despite the horrors that linger on his mind of late.
Astarion kisses the tip of your nose and lifts from your chest, resting his body against your back and draws you in a close embrace. Then he buries his face in your hair and presses a kiss to your neck, relishing your pleasant warmth.
A sudden fire rises inside him.
The thought of facing Cazador remains scary, terrifying even, but somehow with you, he senses there is a viable chance to defeat him at last.
You give him something to care for, and he will do everything in his might to protect you - both of you, his home.
He won’t lose you, and he won’t lose this.
Masterlist
#astarion#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion x tav#astarion oneshot#astarion x female tav#astarion imagine#bg3 astarion#astarion ancunin#astarion romance#astarion x mc#bg3 x reader#baldurs gate x reader#astarion fanfic#reader insert#astarion x female reader#baldur's gate 3#astarion fic#astarion x f!tav#astarion x f!reader
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Hi! I suffer from Baldur's Gate brainrot. I just stumbled upon your blog and love your writing! Could you do some Astarion, Gale and Karlach headcanons for taking care of Tav after they're badly injured in battle?
Reckless Attack ❣
Grieve, weep, and agonize over a corpse - but know that death is never final in Faerun. The burden of injuries will instead always be present: pain is eternal, no matter how numb.
❥ Astarion/Tav, Gale/Tav, Karlach/Tav.
❥ TW: Descriptive mentions of injuries and gore.
❥ Act 2 spoilers.
❥ They/them pronouns for Tav.
❥ Tav is the nickname for the reader/oc insert. Their real name is up to you!
An Absolutist cult has gathered deep in the bowels of the forests of Rivington. Nothing out of the ordinary... Other than the sheer numbers they possess, creating a dense population of Absolute extremists gathered in stone ruins.
Adventuring parties that dare to end their machinations perished slowly and painfully. Their corpses - what is left of them - are displayed pierced from the gnarled branches of the trees, where they bleed out on the forest ground.
Tav, Astarion, Gale, and Karlach had a plan: throw a barrel full of smoke bombs into the middle of the ruins, firebolt, and profit. Except things didn’t go according to plan (they never do). That barrel was supposed to be at their rendezvous point, but the cultists found it before they did and thought it a gift from their Goddess.
Trapped in hiding, Tav decided to do what they do best: attack.
A potent necromancy curse was successfully cast on Tav, negating any healing spells thrown their way.
Well.
Fuck.
ASTARION
"As always, you refuse to listen to me. And now look at you: a mess. What did I say about running afool to the vanguard?" Astarion does not wait for their response. “Don't do it. It is smarter to be in the shadows in this instance. And what did you do? Ran alone into a quarry of cultists with no sense of self-preservation!”
Anger, pure anger, is present in his voice, sharpening his typical melodic lilt into daggers. If he cared about the present company - Shadowheart, Halsin, and Gale crowded into a tent, surrounding Tav upon their cot - it is nonexistent in his wine-red eyes. They could get lost in those bloody depths for hours. But not now. Not when seething rage roils off of his body like a cloud of darkness.
They look away.
"Nothing to say for yourself, darling?” he mocks. Astarion’s visage twists into a sneer, sharply turning his face away from them. He finds an unused rag, wets it, wrings it of excess water, and then moves past Shadowheart. “Allow me,” he murmurs to her, gentler.
Shadowheart’s inquisitive green eyes understand the depth of the situation immediately. She sighs, clearly annoyed he has taken over her job, but is dissuaded by Astarion’s next string of words: “I’ll clean them up. Magic and healing and all that wonderful nonsense are not necessarily my area of expertise. A firebolt here and there, surely, but I wouldn’t know where to begin with a curse that... Negates healing magic.”
“Sure,” Shadowheart replies, eyes flicking to Tav. Worry is evident over her features. Worry hangs heavy around everyone. Emerging out of battles victorious and grievously injured is commonplace; nothing a mass healing word couldn't fix along with a good night’s rest. Open wounds would be closed scars, ailments would be cured, and broken bones would be unbroken. Rinse and repeat.
This time, it is different.
They, and they alone, were cursed with a necromancy spell that makes all healing magic useless to their wounds.
Their wounds are appalling: Broken ribs evident with the pain swelling in their chest and labored breathing, purple and black blotchy bruises from the hammer blows they took to the shoulder, an open laceration across their chest, their ankle snapped in two, burns on their left leg crawling up their thigh. Blood all over their face from their own and from the enemies they felled.
“Hey, it’s fine,” they wheeze out. "Nothing I can't handle. The cultists are down and dead and buried - everything else can come after."
Hesitantly, Gale opens his mouth to reply, but is abruptly cut off by Astarion snapping out: "No."
"No," they echo. Their brows furrow.
"What a saint you are," Astarion snarls. His lips are down-turned, fangs bared as he speaks, but his ministrations upon their face are soothing. Gently, he rubs off the blood with a cool washcloth, eyes focusing on the task at hand as he cannot bear to look at them.
"Throwing yourself into the heat of battle like that, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Tell me, my dear, do you enjoy watching rational fly past you when you make your impulsive decisions?"
They flush with humiliation and hurt. Broken and battered, they dig their elbow into the cot to prop themselves up and face Astarion head-on, but Halsin presses a hand into their shoulder and pushes them down.
Fuck. Their head spins in circles.
"You're one to talk. Impulsivity is your middle name; you said yourself that planning is not your forte." Even raising their voice hurts but they do it anyway. Their eyes, threatening to slip into oblivion, flood with frustrated tears. "What the fuck is your problem, Astarion?"
"Must I really spell it out for you, sweetheart? You go around, telling everyone exactly what they need to hear. You tell them they aren't alone. That you will help them, that you will ensure they see the future that they want." The words are venom: petty and spiteful and yearning to be understood. "You," Astarion hisses out, "are so blind."
Tempers rising to fever pitch, Halsin tenses from his spot at the foot of the cot. From the corner of Tav's eye, they see Gale murmur something to him, something like, Let this play out. Astarion would never hurt them.
"I am the only one who will take the first step!" Tav cries. The words explode out of their broken chest faster than they realize, flying like an arrow straight toward Astarion's unbeating heart. "I risk my life - every day - for all of YOU! For all the people that need me! For all that I am because-"
"Because what?" He taunts. "Because it is the right thing to do? Look at yourself, Tav! You are on death's door if not for everyone in this room!"
"Because no one else will do it! Not anyone in this damn camp cares enough to- to help the people we could-" They cough violently, but they slam their elbows into the cot to prop themselves up. No one stops them this time as they meet Astarion's burning eyes. "No one cares but ME-"
"WE care about you!" Louder. Vicious. Astarion's voice splits in the air in two in one fell swoop, striking them down like lightning into silence.
He's breathing heavily, panting, as if exhausted. The adrenaline pumping in his veins is begging him to swoop Tav up and run away with them. Away from all of this bullshit and into hiding within the shadows. Maybe the Underdark. Maybe the Shadowcursed Lands. They can descend into madness together.
At least there, they will be safe.
"I care about you," Astarion chokes out before he can stop himself. "More than anything. Do you know that? I hope you know that."
Their mouth forms the words to reply, Of course I do, but it doesn't leave their throat. Instead, it stays stuck there like a fluttering butterfly, forced into silence. It hurts to speak. It hurts to talk. It hurts to see him like this.
He calls out their name so quietly it could have been a trick of the wind.
"Astarion," they plead.
He shakes his head, stubborn and unconvinced. "You don't owe these people anything. You certainly do not owe them your life for their burdens. I," he breathes out, voice as shaky as a leaf in the wind. He screws his eyes shut and clenches his fist around the rag, where their blood stains his palm.
"I almost lost the sun of my life today."
When Astarion opens his eyes, they are steeled with resilience and fury as they gaze into theirs. It is hypnotic. It is lonely. They yearn to comfort him.
"It will not happen again."
GALE
"Easy," Gale murmurs, a strong arm laying them down in his tent. Soft blankets and pillows meet their back, and the cushy grass beneath makes for a cool and comforting sleep. Their breath stutters, but Gale gazes at them so fondly as he pushes their hair from their face that the pain eases.
He does not miss their labored breathing. "Shhh shh shh. I've got you. Just focus on me."
His thumb lingers on the swell of their cheek. His eyes flutter close. A gentle glow of purple surrounds him, and eventually, that gentleness extends to Tav. The agonizing, piercing sensation in their chest numbs into a cool, muted nothingness. They gasp - then exhale in relief, slower than their panicky, short breaths from before.
"That's it," he encourages. "Well done, my love. How are you feeling?"
"So-so," they reply. Their voice aches and croaks, but for some reason, it makes Gale smile.
Oh no. He knows that look.
They study his handsome, tired face, looking for any signs of alarm. Is he hungry? Does he need to feed on another artefact? Was there an envoy telling them they missed another Absolutist hideout? Did they miss something? Did they do something wrong?
No. Nope. "Enough of that." He takes their hand, kisses their knuckles, then sighs. "You're the last person who should be worrying about someone. Such a pest, hm? Always buzzing around me like I'm seconds away from disappearing in front of your eyes..."
"You are," they say. Their brows furrow, and they pant out, "The-- your burden to carry, the--"
"The orb, I know. I know." His heart twists. It aches. He failed Mystra before and that was painful. But this is another subject entirely; it couldn't come close. Watching sheer heartbreak in their expression because of him? Oh, Goddess forgive him, he has failed them.
Gale can scarcely celebrate his victory, too. He undid the damned curse that affected Tav's ability to receive magic. The necromancy spell was so potent that Tav rejected any healing spells thrown at them. Late into the hours of experimentation, he, Halsin, and Shadowheart considered allowing the effects to wither and die rather than exterminating it outright. It was Jaheira who told them it would be inefficient, because how long would they have to wait in camp while Tav rode out the effects of the curse? Ideally? Hours. But days? Weeks? Months?
He spent the long night following and feeling out the curse with the Weave. It was a complicated hex - a tangled knot of magic that had to be unwoven carefully, thread by thread. Every connotation, every intent was traced back to the heart of the curse, and he followed it with abandon.
"I'm sorry for all the trouble, then," they whisper.
"You should be," he jests. "Nearly made my heart collapse, seeing you like that."
The image is still burned into his mind. He can't stop thinking about it. His mortality has always been a dreadful afterthought pushed into the further recesses of his tadpole-addled brain, but was he so taken with Tav that he never realized how mortal they were, too?
No. No. Gale tightens his grip on their hand, giving them a comforting squeeze as they breathe in and out, in and out. It's not that he never realized how susceptible they are to death and danger. He just never wanted to confront it.
"You are changing the very premise of my life," he says softly. An exasperated chuckle leaves him as he shakes his head, adding, "as always. I don't know what I would have done if I actually lost you, back there." What wouldn't I do? "No scrolls of revivifies, no Withers to bring you back. I wouldn't be able to accept it."
He understands Ketheric Thorm all too well, now.
"Come here," they whisper. Gale lets their hands press into the back of his head. He thinks, absently, that he would let them do much of anything. In their care, he is no grand wizard with a plethora of achievements under his belt. No. He is as humble as the Weave itself, and their hands compose music and art for him to simply bear witness to.
They rest his head upon their chest, where his ear can listen to the comforting sound of their beating heart.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud thud.
"Good night, my love," Gale says, when their breathing evens and they have finally fallen into peaceful slumber. He does not sleep at all.
KARLACH
"Oh gods. Oh gods!" Karlach clasps Tav's left hand between hers, holding tightly and vowing to never let go. Their blood stains her hand and chest and clothes. It's everywhere. Sickly sweet and sticky, drawing all of her attention from the room to the sensation of it dripping down her skin.
They've lost so much blood. It's nauseating, like an unsettling reality has just settled in her stomach.
"Tav!" She exclaims, helpless and pathetic. "Why did you do that, you big idiot? You seriously could have gotten killed out there, why-- why aren't you..."
Responding? Where are their quips, their sass, their brightness she fell so fast and hard for? Tav lays there upon the cot, broken and battered. Karlach has seen the remains of her enemies after she has slaughtered them and has barely flinched. She can barely stomach the sight of them bloodied, bones twisted in the wrong way, bruises so purple they're as black as a chasm.
All they can do is breathe. Their eyes focus distantly above them to the roof of the tent, but nothing else.
Panic seizes her faster than she can control it. "Are they breathing?! Are they going to survive this?! Fuck," she growls, running a frustrated hand through her dark hair, matted with blood. "I should have made those sons of bitches suffer."
"Karlach," Shadowheart says, firm but gentle, her hands bloody too as she applied pressure down on Tav's wounds, "it was important that you returned them to camp as fast as you did. Sometimes, we do not have the luxuries to let our enemies die in pain."
Right. Right. Karlach watched an Absolutist barbarian slam his warhammer into Tav's back. Once to knock them down. Twice to keep them plastered on the ground. Once more to keep them unconscious. She saw red, then: the rage she slipped into boiled her veins so hot, the howl she let out sent her surroundings enemies into a frightened frenzy. She hacked her great axe into the barbarian over and over and over until he was nothing but a bloodied pulp of a man, more gore than flesh.
She scooped Tav up from the ground. Karlach never let anyone else touch them. She snarled and snapped at the others who tried to come too close and dead sprinted as fast as she could back to camp.
She heard their choked sobs of pain in her arms. They choked out her name, and Karlach couldn't offer them much of anything other than an, "We're going home, bubs, just hang on. 'Kay? You just focus on me."
"Can I stay here?" She begs Shadowheart. "I won't get in the way. Just let me hold their hand, please."
Shadowheart exchanges a conflicted glance at Halsin. He nods, and she sighs. "Fine," she says. "But - I need you to stand to the side for now. You can hold their hand after we're done figuring out how to undo this curse."
"A fine specimen of a curse, really," Gale adds, his hand curled under his chin. "I'm almost impressed."
"I would be too," huffs Shadowheart, "if our reckless leader wasn't caught up in this mess. Really, what were you thinking?"
"Right?" Karlach shoves off into the corner of the tent, doing her best to keep herself as small and as out-of-the-way as possible. Tears flood her eyes, and she chokes out, "Of all the things to do, why did it have to be that? I thought you said you trusted me! To have your back! I have your back, don't I? Don't I?"
"Of course you do," Halsin croons. He hooks his finger into a bottle of salve, and spreads it on Tav's burns. Tav visibly winces and tenses, whimpering in pain.
"Stop whatever you're doing right now!" Karlach wails. "You're hurting them! I'll kill you, Halsin, I swear it!"
Gale exchanges a look with Shadowheart. He ponders deeply for a moment as Karlach sobs devastatingly behind them. He opens his mouth, then shuts it promptly.
"Just say it," Shadowheart urges impatiently.
"We should play a game," he suggests. "The quiet game."
"No way," Karlach hiccups. "I'm dogshit at that game. Anyway, focus on Tav or I'll gut you, seriously."
❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 x reader#bg3 x you#baldur's gate 3 x reader#baldur's gate 3 x you#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion#astarion x tav#gale x reader#gale x you#gale x tav#karlach x reader#karlach x you#karlach x tav#shadowheart#halsin#halsin is always just there. like. yeah ok guys. whatever
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