Bg3 Fanfiction - Blog Posts

☆ a dance for two

wyll ravengard x male reader [he / him]

sypnosis: a ball is being held in baldur's gate, and of course the blade of frontiers is invited. wyll brings along his newly-wed husband, [name], along with him which leads them to share a dance. (meant to be viewed as romantic)

the lowercase is intentional !

being the blade of frontiers, and duke ravengard's son, wyll was invited to many balls, parties and festivals. it was what he grew up with, it was what he was accustomed to.

however, what wyll wasn't accustomed to was actually having a dance, let alone a date, to any of these events. but, that all changed once wyll met [name].

after the nautiloid crash, the two men had hit it off. they got closer during their adventures, sharing stories of their pasts and hopes for the future. they shared a few dances together and a few kisses before it was finally made official. the two started to travel as lovers through the lands of

the two had been through it all, and it felt like they could get through more. so, of course, wyll proposed. it wasn't anything expensive or fancy - but it was special. it was special and unique for wyll and [name]. they didn't need anything other than eachother. they were enough for eachother.

time went by and the couple had gotten married. they defeated the absolute, helped fix eachother, settled down and had a nice ceremony. family, friends and loved ones were invited to the ceremony - and it felt like all of baldur's gate almost showed up.

of course, after the wedding, wyll was reinvited to many parties as the blade of frontiers. the buildings in baldur's gate were all repaired after the fight with the absolute, so more people started hosting parties and galas and balls to celebrate. wyll was practically invited to each one of them.

being newly wed, wyll decided to ask [name] to come along with him to these events. [name] accepted, a bright grin on his face as he did so. how could he ever say no to his husband?

and so, the two of them went off to each event they were invited to in baldur's gate.

one night, wyll and [name] were invited to quite the prestigious party. many lords, royals, and people of the sort came along. that meant that wyll was automatically invited.

the two arrived at the party. a large house, if you could even call it that anymore due to the sheer size of it, was infront of them. colours of gold, white, and other prestigious colours were draped on every surface. [name] hadn't ever seen such a sight before, but he was glad he could share it with his husband.

the two men entered the building where many were talking amongst themselves. it was all conversations about business, riches or whatever people talked about in situations like these. [name] was just mesmerised by everything in that moment that he wasn't paying attention.

wyll took [name]'s hand in his own, shooting the other male a smile as they advanced forward. they reached a table that was decorated with expensive food and drink. everything at this event was tailored to the people and the actual building - being expensive and luxurious as possible.

wyll picked out a few things from the table and he handed them to [name]. they were most of [name]'s favourite things. wyll just wanted to see [name] smile more.

[name] took the items from wyll eagerly, a bright smile on his face as he did so. it was the very smile that wyll wanted to see. [name] immediately started eating the food, and drinking the drinks. he savoured every last bit of them. after all, it was expensive and something to be enjoyed.

wyll smiled back as he saw the light of his life smile. it was perfect, just what he needed to keep himself smiling and feeling happy. he felt like he could engrave his husband's smile into his brain forever and never think of anything else again.

[name] peers over at wyll briefly, raising an eyebrow at the man. "you seem to be deep in thought. is something wrong, love?" [name] questioned, brows furrowing as he waited for a response from his husband.

wyll chuckled and he shook his head, still smiling a little at [name]. "nothing's wrong, my dear. i'm just thinking of your smile and how i love it and you so much." wyll replied with a hum.

[name] scoffed in return, rolling his eyes playfully. his face softened and he returned to smiling after wyll had complemented him.

"why thank you, love. i must say i love your smile and you so much too." [name] retorted back, putting his plate down onto the table. he takes a few steps forward to kiss wyll on the forehead. "i love you so, so much." [name] mutters against wyll's forehead.

wyll opens his mouth to reply, but there's a sudden change in the atmosphere.

the music being played by the orchestra has changed, the lighting of the hall has dimmed. everything seems slower and more intimate. the mood was perfect for a slow dance. dance - one of wyll's specialities.

wyll lets out a deep breath, before he looks at [name], flashing his husband a smile. his eyes were already giving away what he wanted to ask.

"will you take this dance, dear?" wyll asks, holding a hand out for [name] to take. immediately and without hesitation, [name] takes wyll's hand in his own.

the warlock then leads [name] to the clearing in the hall where many couples were already dancing. the two join the other couples and get ready to share their own slow dance.

wyll puts a hand on [name]'s side, the other holding [name]'s hand. [name] knows what to do after this, having danced with wyll many times at their camp. he places a hand on wyll's shoulder, whilst the other is clasped in wyll's own hand.

the couple sway in time to the music, wyll guiding [name] in case he still felt unsure about dancing. yet, this just came so naturally for both of them. it was as if they had spent their whole lives dancing together, having their bodies molded perfectly so they fit outstandingly whilst dancing. everything about the couple just seemed perfect. but perfect to them just meant being with the other.

"i love this.. these dances with you." wyll whispers into [name]'s ear as they kept dancing. it felt as if they were the only couple dancing. it felt as if they were the only people in the room. it felt as if the world revolved around them in that moment. it was absolutely perfect.

"and most importantly.." wyll continues, a smile playing at his lips. "i love you. i don't think i'd be here right now if it wasn't for you, so thank you." wyll whispers again, pressing a quick peck to [name]'s lips.

once the warlock pulls away, [name] smiles and he starts his response to his husband. "i'd like to thank you too, for always being by my side and making the world seem perfect whenever you're with me." [name] hums, leaning forward to give wyll another peck. "i love you too." [name] whispers as he pulls away.

the two keep dancing. they stare into eachother's eyes as they do so, unable to look away for even a second. they are so captivated and mesmirised by eachother, it would make any other couple jealous of the loge the two men shared. their love was unstoppable.

once the music started to come to an end, wyll leaned in once again and he kissed [name]. it wasn't a quick peck like before, it was a tender kiss this time. the kiss was full of love, speaking greater than words ever could. it held a weight that nothing else ever could, that no words ever could.

wyll pulled away, chuckling to himself lightly. "as much as we kiss day to day, your lips never fail to get me flustered." he admits, feeling all warm and lovesick inside. only [name] could make him feel such a way.

[name] grinned and he kissed wyll's cheek in response. he too felt warm and giddy inside after all of wyll's words and actions. he never wanted them to end. [name] was just so glad that he was married to wyll now. wyll was his, and [name] was wyll's. that was how it was always meant to be. that's how it's going to be like forever.

"i hope we get to share more dances, dear. you're the only partner i want, in life and for dancing." wyll mutters before he kisses [name]'s lips again, letting the fading music drone out in the moment. all he cared about was [name] in that moment and no one else.

☆ author's note: i LOVE wyll. he is my husband for real !! larian is not giving wyll the treatment he deserves 😒

☆ masterlist ▪︎ request

☆ i want you

astarion x male reader [he / him]

sypnosis: under cazador's rule, astarion never got what he wanted. but, that changed ever since he met [name]. (meant to be viewed as romantic)

the lowercase is intentional !

for the past 200 years of his life, astarion never had a say in what he wanted to do. he had to go out, look for people to lure back to cazador and sleep with those said people. it was never what he wanted. it was what cazador wanted.

astarion had to listen to orders from his 'master'. he had to always follow his 'master's wants and demands, or else something bad would happen.

but astarion didn't want to listen.

astarion wanted to chose to do what he wanted, not what cazador wanted. why did he have to do what someone else wanted him to do? why was that person not able to accomplish their wants on their own? astarion did understand.

by coincidence, astarion found himself on a mindflayer ship and soon crash landing near a beach.

the spawn was free from cazador, at least for now. he was able to walk into the sun too for the first time in 200 years. most importantly, astarion felt free. well, his idea of 'being free' was quite restricted. he now had a parasite that could turn him into a tentacled, brain eating monster at any point. astarion didn't like how that was his definition of being free from cazador.

of course, down the line of astarion's new found and temporary freedom, he met [name]. from that day forth, the two started travelling together.

there was something about [name] that astarion couldn't understand. he was nothing like the other people astarion knew. he was nothing like astarion's brothers, or sisters or even cazador. there was something different about him.

[name] listened. he listened to everything astarion, and other companions, said to him. he was so attentive and observant, which was quite unlike all the people astarion had met before. it was all about them and their feelings and their wants, not astarions.

it made astarion feel something. it made the vampire spawn feel something that he hadn't felt in his 200 years of 'living'. yet, astarion couldn't bring himself to understand what this feeling was. or, well, he didn't want to confront the feeling after being trapped for so long not being able to have what he wants.

night had fallen upon camp, and everyone was sitting around the fire. everyone was laughing, making jokes and telling eachother stories about their pasts before the parasites. that was everyone except astarion.

astarion was lurking in the shadows, just as he did before when he did the things cazador wanted him to do. astarion's mind was just rattling, plaguing him with different ideas about [name] and he just didn't want to confront himself about it. astarion tried his hardest to push away these thoughts and feelings, to lock them away forever, but nothing was working.

a sudden snap of a branch was heard, making astarion shoot his head towards the noise. it was [name], a smile plastered on his face and a glass of wine in his hands that he held out for astarion to take.

"you looked lonely, i thought you might want some company." [name] said as he walked closer to astarion, taking a seat on the floor besides the spawn.

astarion took the wine and he started to sip on it, not making any eye contant with [name] whatsoever. why did the man he was just thinking of and trying to hard to ignore the feelings he had for have to show up? and why did he have to be so nice, and caring, and considerate all the damn time?

the vampire spawn sighed to himself, although it was still loud enough for [name] to hear him do so. he took another sip of the wine and his eyes darted from his glass, to [name] and back again. he wanted to say something to the other man, but he didn't know what to say.

"i think.. i think i've finally figured out what i want." astarion mumbled into the glass, his eyes fixated on it, no longer moving to look at his companion.

[name] turned his head towards astarion and he raised an eyebrow. he was definitely curious as to what his friend 'wants'. he was surprised that astarion even decided to bring up such a thing in the first place. "oh?" is all [name] responded with, wanting astarion to keep the conversation going.

astarion cleared his throat before he spoke yet again. "i mean, i've always had to do what others wanted me to do, like cazador.. but i've finally figured out what i want." astarion continues speaking, secretly hoping that [name] isn't weirded out by what he's saying.

"well, what is it that you want?" [name] hummed in response, a smile forming on his lips as his face was still turned towards astarion. he'd be willing to help out the spawn with his desires, no matter what those desires may be.

astarion took a deep breath and he finally looked at [name]. for some reason he felt so flustered and mushy, he never felt like this when luring people to cazador. but then again, [name] always made him feel so different.

"i want you." astarion whispered, his crimson eyes glimmering in the moonlight as they stayed fixated on [name]. "not just for sex or passion, i want you fully. for love and simple pleasures between us two." astarion confessed, feeling relieved for finally admitting his feelings but at the same time feeling proud for saying what he wanted.

[name] sat there processing astarion's words for a few seconds. astarion was getting a little nervous admittedly at [name]'s lack of response. nobody who astarion manipulated or tricked before ever stayed this silent at some seduction. but this wasn't just simple seduction, this was the truth. astarion truly did want [name].

a smile was still on [name]'s lips after he had processed the words astarion had given him. there was no look of disgust or annoyance on the man's face, and quite frankly astarion was glad.

"i think i could make that work." [name] finally replied, taking astarion's empty hand into his own. he then stroked the pale elf's hand gently, still looking up at his face. "we could make this work." [name] finished his response with a kiss to astarion's hand, and astarion felt the happiest he had ever felt in years.

astarion had finally gotten what he had wanted. he now had [name], and [name] had him. astarion couldn't feel any better. he was so glad that he could get the things that he wanted, not the things that others wanted.

astarion finally felt the freest he had ever felt in 200 years.

☆ author's note: hope you guys enjoy (even if this is kind of short)! i finally triggered astarion's confession scene today :') keep requests coming! you guys can also request some valentine's day themed things too!

☆ masterlist ▪︎ request

okay, lemme go on a tiny rant here that might piss some people off..

I’m a tad bit annoyed at the way pronouns for Tav are used in the BG3 fandom, because the more I look through BG3 related posts that mention Tav, it’s just like IMMEDIATELY assumed that Tav is female and therefore most of the time, Tav is referred to with she/her pronouns and it’s just like HUH??

you guys do realize, that men and nonbinary folks play this game, right? and that the concept of Tav IN ITSELF basically means “player insert of no specific gender that lets the player choose which pronouns and name are used for them”

and you just assume, that everyone has a female Tav?? What??

it’s just really frustrating to me, that we have this character in the fandom that is BY ALL MEANS entirely unspecified in basically ALL DETAILS apart from the fact that they go through the story of BG3, in however shape or form they may do that

maybe only I personally am pissed off by this, since I’m a person that only uses they/them and he/him pronouns and gets pretty strong dysphoria from imagining myself as female, but I’ve noticed that I’m not the only non female person that gets annoyed at this

sure, if the author of, for instance a fanfic, clarifies, that Tav is specifically female in the scenario that they wrote, then I (and everyone else that feels this way) don’t have any right to complain about that, it was specified

but very often, the she/her pronouns and all kinds of feminine features are just randomly thrown at the reader, without the gender of Tav ever being discussed before and that just frustrates me

I’m not saying that I have anything against people writing fanfic or scenarios with a female Tav in mind, but it would just be nice if they could clarify that in the description of it, before I go and read it only to be disappointed by the fact that they were writing about a female/afab Tav the entire time

yeah sorry this became really long, but it’s just something I’ve noticed recently and it’s been annoying me quite a bit, so here you go

again, I don’t mean any disrespect towards any writer, I just personally think that it would be way easier to either 1. just use they/them pronouns for Tav or 2. specify the gender of Tav in the description of the fanfic beforehand

Things Wyll says

Wyll with a wide smile and a warm look in his eye, greeting “Ah, there you are. I was hoping you'd make your way over. How are you, my friend?”

Wyll, holding the shabby wood doors open for you, bowing his head and politely offering, "After you, my friend."

Wyll with his gaze on the ground, shyly chuckling “You flatter me too much. I am not the gentleman I once was.”

Wyll hitting your enemy with an eldritch blast, shouting “Stay calm, I’m coming for you!”

Wyll cradling you against him as the healing potion takes effect, whispering into your hair, “Breath easy. It’s not your time. It’s not your time.”

Wyll tracing his thumb across your cheek bone, grinning “May I kiss you again?”

Wyll grasping your hand when it reaches for his horns, choking back “please…I don’t want to hurt you.”

Wyll crying when you assure him that he could never hurt you and plant light kisses on his forehead. 

Wyll whimpering slightly when you grip his horns, tilt his head back, and dive into a passionate kiss.

Wyll admitting "I don't know what awaits us in Baldur's Gate but whatever it is, know that I will always have your back."

Wyll sipping his wine with a smirk and a heat in his gaze, lightly teasing, "you find me devilishly handsome?"

Wyll wrapping his arm around your waist, his hold firm and steady, introducing you to his father, “Father this is the love of my life, y/n.”

Wyll with tears brimming his eyes as he kneels down on one knee before you, asking “My love, will you marry me?”

The Embrace of Love and Death - A Short Rest: All Tied Up and Nowhere to Go

This short rest takes place between chapters 6 and 7 of The Embrace of Love and Death! Catch the full fanfic here

Lae’zel had been glaring at them from across camp all afternoon, Miss Fortune noticed. That wasn’t unusual by itself, but her facial expression was what caught their eye. In place of the usual disdain, she seemed to be trying to dissect them, as if they were a mystery she was trying to solve.

They suspected it had something to do with how easily they’d gotten out of her rope bindings yesterday, as she had scowled when they remarked on her shoddy ties. Reveling in their growing confidence as a leader and fighter, they decided to give her a hard time.

“You’re giving me a different grimace than usual, General,” they said with smug satisfaction as they ambled over to where she was whacking away at her training dummy. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you can’t stand the thought that I’m better than you at something.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said tersely without pausing in her maneuvers.

“It’s eating you up inside how quickly I got out of those ropes, isn’t it? You want to know how this pathetic little soft boy did it.”

“Chk. Perhaps,” she conceded.

“I could tell you, but it would be more effective to show you. Taking hostages hasn’t been our style so far but any of us should be able to if the need arises.”

“You speak sensibly.” Lae’zel lowered her fists and cocked her head, considering. “Show me.”

Miss Fortune knew that smiles didn’t get far with Lae’zel, so the half-elf simply turned on their heel and walked off, beckoning her to follow with a wave.

“Meet me around the fire pit. I’m going to see if the others would also like a demonstration.”

Shadowheart and Astarion both accepted the invitation, though Miss Fortune suspected their primary interest was to watch Lae’zel get humbled. Gale declined as if he found the whole idea of physically binding another human repulsive. Seeing as he could accomplish the same effect with magic they couldn’t quite blame him.

“All right, I’m going to demonstrate on you first, Lae’zel. So you can see for yourself I know what I’m doing. Hands behind your back,” Miss Fortune instructed once everyone had assembled.

Lae’zel crossed her arms in front of her chest, unmovable as a boulder.

“I guess you don’t want to learn after all. False alarm, friends, let’s disperse,” they said to the others, fatigue creeping into their voice.

“Chk. Fine,” Lae’zel relented.

“A wise choice, General.” Miss Fortune uncoiled the length of rope they’d grabbed from their tent, silently lamenting that they didn’t have silk cord. She would never be able to rip through that with brute strength. Instead, they had to make do with the limited bounty of what they’d scavenged so far on their adventure.

The half-elf made quick work of cinching the rope around her wrists in a tight figure eight pattern. “The trick - which you failed to do with me and Astarion - is to ensure the rope sits below the thumb joint,” they explained. Shadowheart and Astarion sidled over and leaned in to observe.

Miss Fortune continued wrapping the rope tightly before double-tying the knot higher up, well out of the reach of the Githyanki’s fingers. “You don’t want to leave any room for prying fingers to find purchase, or you’ll come back to an empty chair, room, what have you. Normally I’d bind the ankles too, but this will suffice for a beginner’s demonstration. Now, try to get out.”

She tried grasping at the rope first with her fingers, then attempted to wriggle her wrists loose. Her face contorted with rage and she began to swear when she realized she could find no purchase with her bindings. Miss Fortune took several steps back, crossing their arms over their chest and grinning like a fox who had just snared a rabbit. They took sadistic pleasure watching her struggle for once.

“Just imagine if I had tied your arms behind a tree or perhaps to a chair,” Miss Fortune mused cruelly. They chose to mimic Astarion’s languid pose and bored expression, pretending to inspect their nails as they spoke. “In that scenario I would have bound you at the waist and ankles as well, and you’d be a lost cause by that point. And if I really wanted to make sure you stayed put, I’d gag you too. Maybe even tie your ankles and hands together. Can never be too careful, can we?”

“Tsk’va, you’ve made your point,” Lae’zel spat, still wriggling wildly like a worm freshly dug up from the ground. “Untie me now!”

Miss Fortune drew closer, their expression darkening as they stared down their nose at her. “I don’t think I have yet. I’m tired of you calling me a ‘soft boy’ like it’s something I should be ashamed of. Keep it up and next time I tie you up, I’ll leave you like that. Do we have an understanding?”

Loathing danced in the Githyanki’s eyes as she glowered up at them. Her shoulder looked about ready to dislocate as she continued to struggle to make progress with the ropes, as if popping her arm out of its socket were preferable to conceding defeat. Knowing her, it probably was.

“Remember I don’t heal stupidity, Lae’zel,” Shadowheart called out.

Miss Fortune looked over their shoulder to shoot a grin Shadowheart’s way. Their eyes locked and she nodded, returning the grin with a wicked smile of her own. The half-elf rogue glimpsed over at Astarion as well, and their chest felt a touch lighter when they saw approval in his ruby gaze.

“We have an understanding,” Lae’zel rasped at last, tearing Miss Fortune’s attention away from the vampire.

“Wonderful!” Miss Fortune made quick work of untying her, making sure to step back quickly with the rope stretched between their hands to create a barrier in case her anger got the best of her. The warrior stretched her arms and rubbed her sore wrists but otherwise made no move to lunge for her antagonist.

With the demonstration-turned-warning complete, Miss Fortune spent a while longer showing everyone how to replicate what they did to Lae’zel on each other until everyone felt confident they could remember how to do it on their own.

“Class dismissed,” Miss Fortune announced. “I hope you all enjoyed rope play for beginners. Now I believe Astarion and I have a date in the woods with whatever animal is unlucky enough to encounter us. See you later, ladies,” Miss Fortune added with a wave as they casually sauntered off. Astarion followed close behind.

When they were out of earshot, the half-elf leaned in and murmured mischievously to the vampire “If you play your cards right, someday I might give you the more advanced lesson.”

Astarion guffawed in delight. “Is that a promise or a threat, little bird?”

“Both.”

The Embrace of Love and Death, Chapter 6: From Liability to Menace

Chapter Summary: Astarion and Miss Fortune are rudely awoken by sacks being thrown over their heads as they are spirited away for a final test of their combat skills. They must work together using a blend of stealth and brutality to free themselves before time runs out. Should they succeed, the companions will be able to resume their adventures. Fail, and Lae’zel threatens to gut them and take Miss Fortune’s role as leader.

Read the full chapter on AO3!

Excerpt:

The ropes binding Miss Fortune’s hands behind their back cut into their wrists as they squirmed to get free. They had no idea where they were. Several minutes ago they’d been awoken suddenly this morning to a sack being thrown over their head as Lae’zel pulled them roughly to their feet. Their reward for several days of hard training, she explained, was a final test. Pass, and she’d declare both them and Astarion as no longer being liabilities, and they could get back on the road looking for a cure. Fail, and she’d gut them both and lead Gale and Shadowheart onwards herself before their bodies even had a chance to grow cold.

“No, no, this is just a friendly assessment,” Gale had interjected. “The only negative consequences for failing will be extra training!”

Miss Fortune was led forward with a rough hand against the back of their head for some ways until the hand gripped harder, stopping them. Someone else pushed them down into a chair and bound their hands behind their back.

“Your armor and weapons are in the room with you,” Lae’zel began.

“Room…? Where have you taken-“

“LISTEN, istik! You will free yourself, arm yourself. Astarion is already in your same predicament somewhere else nearby. You must find one another and fight your way out before Gale’s illusion spell wears off. Understand?”

“I have so many questions, foremost being ‘What the fuck?’ But sure, I understand the general instructions,” Miss Fortune had groaned. Their companions must have grabbed them early because they were so exhausted they could barely process the situation. Their suspicions were confirmed when Lae’zel tugged the hood off of them and they saw that dawn was only just beginning to break. “This couldn’t have been a midday test?”

Lae’zel elected not to answer that last question, instead turning on her heel to leave and motioning for Gale to follow. They shimmered out of sight as they presumably left the range of whatever illusion spell Gale had woven.

This left Miss Fortune alone and bound, but knowing this was an illusion helped stave off any panic. They wondered if the companions had grabbed Astarion first and then come back for them or if they’d left poor Shadowheart to “capture” him on her own.

A smile tugged at their mouth as they imagined how absolutely livid the vampire must be right now. Interrupting his beauty trance? Messing up his hair with that awful sack? Risking a broken nail to wriggle free of the ropes? They could picture his scowl and the vitriol spewing from it so clearly in their mind. The image of threats of violence issuing forth from such a beautiful man was delicious, especially seeing as they would be directed at other people and not them. Focus, they scolded themselves. You can daydream later.

Miss Fortune never thought they’d be glad for their history as a courtesan in their new life, but as luck would have it they were well-versed in the art of rope play. A wicked smile spread across their face as they tested the bindings. Lae’zel would have to try harder than that to keep them tied up. After all, they’d had their entire body intricately trussed and bound more times than they could count - oftentimes while suspended from the ceiling - and they’d been taught to find their way out of any ties. They were free from Lae’zel’s shoddy knots in no time at all.

The half-elf made a mental note to teach her how to do a better job tying up prisoners after this. Or better yet, to make sure they always did it themselves.

Once they had dressed and armed themselves, the next step was to survey their surroundings. Gale’s sage advice from the last few days replayed in their head: deep breaths, take time to note your exits and your advantages, use all your senses. They were in a small stone room with slits for windows and one door. The only things inside were the chair, the chest their gear had been in, and themselves. Which was to say, not much to take in. Putting their ear against the door, they paused. At first, they heard nothing. But then came the sounds of footsteps drawing nearer - it sounded like two sets.

They waited and listened, breathing as quietly as possible, as the footsteps passed right by their door and then began to recede on the far side of it. Some kind of patrol then, it seemed. Once the sound had completely faded, they took a chance opening their door. Relief flooded their veins when they found it unlocked. That would save them time and reduce the chances of getting caught mid-lockpicking.

The door opened into a short hallway with two other doors to the left of theirs. Clinging to the wall they crept over to the middle door, once again cupping an ear against it to listen inside. No sounds of struggle inside, so they moved on. Miss Fortune felt thoroughly confused when they got to the last door because they could smell Astarion’s perfume - Rosemary, bergamot, and a touch of brandy, he’d recently revealed - before they even reached the door.

Lae’zel had mentioned that this was some sort of elaborate illusion Gale wove. Could the perfume smell be part of it, designed to trick them into opening the wrong door? No, they decided. They hadn’t ever noticed Astarion and Gale in close enough contact for the wizard to replicate the vampire’s scent this well. Putting an ear to the door revealed shuffling sounds, confirming their hunch that Astarion was behind door number three.

Hearing distant footsteps once more, they quickly ducked inside Astarion’s room and shut the door as quietly as possible. The sight that greeted them was one they hoped they could commit to memory. The vampire was on the last clasp of his padded armor, muttering what sounded like foul Elvish curses under his breath. His hair was a beautiful mess with curls going in every direction, but the best part was his facial expression. His eyebrows were downturned slashes over his fiery eyes, and his mouth was twisted into a livid grimace; the very paragon of anger. It took everything Miss Fortune had to stifle their laughter; this was even better than they had imagined.

Read from chapter 1: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298?view_full_work=true

*struggles while writing* i suck and writing is hard

*remembers some ppl use ai* i am a creative force. i am uncorrupted by theft and indolence. i am on a journey to excellence. it is my duty to keep taking joy in creating.

The Embrace of Love and Death, Chapter 5: Playing with Knives

Chapter summary: Lae’zel puts Astarion and Miss Fortune through the paces, training them relentlessly until they learn to work together better. Things get flirtatious between the rogues as they get to know each other better, and Shadowheart puts Miss Fortune on the spot to reveal their past.

Read the full chapter on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298/chapters/166716742

Excerpt:

“It’s time for the two of you to start warming up,” the warrior commanded as soon as she noticed Miss Fortune was done eating. There was no room for bargaining or arguing in her tone. “You will go to the clearing, you will stretch every muscle, do push-ups, sit-ups, and squats to exhaustion twice, and lastly you will run until I decide to come stop you. Then, I will train you until I am satisfied that you’ve learned the lesson at hand.”

Miss Fortune could hear Astarion complaining under his breath the whole way to the clearing, and when they arrived he turned on them with a huff.

“Why don’t you just leave me at camp to watch the cook pot?” He demanded, waving his hands wildly. “Why put us through all this just to keep me on the road with you?”

“Is that what you want? To stay in camp?” They asked as they began to stretch their arms and shoulders.

“Wha—I didn’t say that,” the vampire countered, beginning his own stretches. “It’s just, wouldn’t that be easier?”

“And miss out on your witty banter and gorgeous face all day? Doesn’t sound easier to me,” Miss Fortune grinned.

“Oh, well in that case…” Astarion feigned sheepishness, brushing a curl behind his pointy ear. “Glad to see someone around here has good taste.”

“And you would know after last night, wouldn’t you? How good my taste is?” Miss Fortune dropped to the ground to begin stretching the lower half of their body. They chanced a quick glance up at the vampire and noticed an almost imperceptible shudder of ecstasy as he presumably recalled the taste of their blood. The half-elf had to look away quickly, hoping he didn’t catch sight of the hot blush razing across their cheeks.

“Aha! How delightful. Yes, you were scrumptious, my sweet. But to whom am I speaking today? Because it’s certainly not the same sad little bird who was ready to curl up and die last night.” Astarion followed suit, practically bending himself in half with seemingly no effort. Miss Fortune tried unsuccessfully not to let their eyes - or mind - drift too much at the sight. There was no denying that he had a great body, and the incredible flexibility had them feeling some type of way.

The Embrace of Love and Death, Chapter 4: Bite, Bite, Baby

Summary: It’s Bite Night! Miss Fortune awakens to find Astarion’s fangs a breath away from their neck and suddenly all the signs they dismissed before snap into place: their companion is a vampire. Astarion is caught off guard by Miss Fortune’s unexpected reaction.

Read the full chapter on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298/chapters/166132147

Excerpt:

“Were you about to-“ they cried out.

“Shhh! Keep your voice down. It’s not what it looks like,” he pleaded. There was a haunted look on his face as he shuffled back from where he crouched, his hands held up in a placating gesture. “I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just needed - well, blood.”

“So you came to cull the weakest of us first. I understand. I didn’t realize you were a vampire, but in hindsight the signs were all there.” They hugged their knees, resigned to their fate. After all, what hope did they have of fighting off a vampire at night in such a tight space?

“You find a vampire in your tent and your first reaction is numb resignation?!” He asked, incredulous.

“Did you want me to be mad?”

“Yes! No! I-I don’t know!” He paused for a few moments. “There is a lot to unpack here. You and I are going to have a long talk later about your lack of regard for your own life. I need you alive, you know. We all do,” he said with a huff. “Secondly, I didn’t come to you because you’re the weakest but because I thought you’d be the most understanding. The least likely to stake me on sight.

“And lastly: What do you mean you didn’t know?!” Astarion whisper-shouted, gesturing wildly. “After you made a big show about reading that book about ‘vampyrs’ where you knew I’d spot you? Or the hint you dropped about how I haven’t been eating? You shivered at my cold, undead touch earlier. I thought for sure I’d been found out and you were working your way up to blackmailing me o-or…driving me out.”

“Pure coincidence,” they shrugged. “Why didn’t you just tell me if you thought I’d understand?”

“It was still a big risk to take, you know, when a wrong guess would spell my demise.” He shook his head. “No, I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.”

Miss Fortune considered his words for several moments. Studied his face. The arch of his white eyebrows, raised in concern. The deep set eyes, wide with fear. The way his nostrils flared and his mouth hung slightly agape. The man was terrified, ready to flee at a moment’s notice and never return.

“…I do,” they said at last. “I trust you.”

Meet Miss Fortune

Race: High Half-Elf

Gender: Non-binary

Real name: ??? They’ll tell Astarion eventually

Birthday: Elesias 30

Class: Arcane trickster rogue

Background: Entertainer

Alignment: Chaotic neutral

Voice: 6

Scent: Sandalwood, vanilla, and jasmine

Favorite food: strawberries

(Accidental) aesthetic inspiration: When making Miss Fortune in Baldur’s Gate 3, the options limited me from perfectly matching the image in my head so I went for something as close as possible to my idea of a beautiful masculine-leaning person. It wasn’t until I showed my spouse and bff that they both pointed out I’d basically made half-elf Chris Motionless from Motionless in White. Oops? 😅

Backstory: Miss Fortune is one my favorite DnD characters I’ve ever played. They were a smart, sassy, and chaotic spy master who had a hand in every secret, scandal, and plot. They were the life of every party, their melodic laughter filling whatever room they were in. As a drag queen they trampled over gender norms and played a pivotal role in helping me realize that I am also non-binary - so Miss Fortune will always occupy a special place in my heart 💛🤍💜🖤. So of COURSE when I was making my first bg3 character I had to make them!

The Baldur’s Gate 3/fanfic version of Miss Fortune starts out significantly more traumatized. They grew up as a pretty bird in a bird cage with clipped wings until finally leaving their old life behind two moons (months) before getting abducted by mind flayers. “The Embrace of Love and Death” will reveal more specifics about their backstory as they get to know and trust Astarion. The parallels in Miss Fortune and Astarion’s backstories are completely coincidental! I knew nothing about Astarion going into the game, and when I created Miss Fortune I 💯 intended to romance everyone’s favorite muscle mama, Karlach. But Astarion landed a crit sneak attack on Miss Fortune’s (and my) heart and the rest was history.

Follow along with Miss Fortune’s story and healing journey with Astarion on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298?view_full_work=true

Chapter 3: Astarion and Miss Fortune Learn to Work Together

Summary: After a petty squabble between Astarion and Miss Fortune nearly gets the whole party killed in the Overgrown Ruins, Lae’zel begins training the rogues on how to work together. Astarion gives Miss Fortune a flirtatious anatomy lesson on the best places to stab someone, somehow managing to make murder sound sexy. Miss Fortune also attempts to develop a reading habit with a strange old book they found in the ruins called ‘The Curse of the Vampyr.’

You can also read it on AO3

The overgrown ruins near the nautiloid crash site had nearly become home to five fresh corpses seeing as Miss Fortune and their companions had barely survived the encounter with the bandits occupying it. The worst of their injuries belonged to Gale, who had been practically been snapped in two by a barbarian. It was another defeat in the half-elf’s recent losing streak, and Lae’zel’s words from the previous evening about them being weak and a liability eviscerated their confidence.

The mood was tense at supper; nobody seemed willing to break the sullen silence as they tore into the turkey Lae’zel had killed on their way back to camp. As usual, Miss Fortune noted that Astarion, seated next to them, was merely pushing the food around on his plate. At one point he seemed to take the tiniest of bites, yet didn’t seem to chew or swallow. He appeared more focused on the raw gash splitting Miss Fortune’s lip than on his supper, and they resolved to ask about it someday soon. Despite the throbbing pain in their mouth, the half-elf forced themselves to eat double helpings lest they provoke the Gith into giving another lecture.

As it turned out, the extra meat wasn’t enough to earn them a silent retreat. When they finished up and stood to go lick their emotional wounds and rest their sore, freshly healed body in the comfort of their tent, they heard Lae’zel clear her throat from where she sat.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she barked. “That goes for you too, Astarion,” she added as the pale elf attempted to sneak away unnoticed.

“And why is that, Gith?” Miss Fortune sighed, world-weary.

“We all nearly died in that disastrous skirmish today, and the blame rests on both your shoulders.” The warrior rose, stalking over to where the pair of them stood. “Neither of you think before you act. You both rush in, daggers flailing, without a single plan in your vacant skulls.”

“Ouch, you wound me, Lae’zel,” Astarion sneered. “I do have a plan: to murder everyone and everything that needs killing.”

She pointed a finger into his chest. “That’s the kind of plan that gets you killed. And us along with you.” She turned her attention to Miss Fortune. “And you. You’re a pretty face with a silver tongue dripping sweet words. People like you. You can talk your way into and out of situations with ease, which is why I haven’t gutted you and taken over as leader yet.”

“Uh, thanks?” Miss Fortune said, rubbing the back of their head in confusion.

“I’m not finished. Your fighting style lacks discipline, and a freshly hatched Gith has a better head for battle tactics than you. We don’t need two rogues skulking around everywhere. If you had half a brain, you would leave the pale one at camp to watch the cook pot.”

“Now you wait just a-“ Astarion began to object, but Miss Fortune cut in.

“That’s not an option!” they shouted, their stomach twisting itself into knots. They couldn’t begin to explain why, but Astarion had become an indispensable presence for them in these short few days. They didn’t always see eye to eye, but the half-elf enjoyed his witty banter as they slogged around, and for whatever reason he was a calming presence for them. The view from behind was nothing to complain about either.

Taking a deep breath, they continued in a quieter voice: “One surprise attack can cause grievous injury to a foe; two could be lethal. There’s strength in numbers, so why should we throw the advantage of two stealthy fighters away? We can slit people’s throats before they even notice we’re there. Surely you see how valuable that could be, ‘General.’”

Lae’zel must have noticed the steely resolve in Miss Fortune’s body language and realized they wouldn’t budge on the issue. And if she bristled at the ‘General’ jab she didn’t let on. “He stays, then. But you must learn to work together. You speak of two rogues felling opponents before they can raise alarm? That doesn’t happen by chance, istik. You must get to know each other on and off the battlefield. You must think and move as one.”

“If I may,” Shadowheart interjected. “Although I mended the worst of his broken spine, Gale should rest for a few days before I would consider him fit to fight again.”

“And although I cannot explain the phenomenon at this juncture, it would appear that our parasites remain in some sort of state of stasis,” Gale added from where he rested at an incline, his face pained and glistening with sweat. “By all of the extensive accounts I’ve read on the matter we should be mind flayers by now, and yet none of us have experienced a single symptom to indicate that such a fate is on the horizon. Of course haste is still of the utmost importance, but with nary a tentacle sprouted between the pack of us I’d say we could spare a few days.”

“So it would seem,” Lae’zel considered. “It is settled then. We remain at camp until Gale is recovered, and I will train you two relentlessly. It begins now. Unsheathe your daggers.”

Astarion and Miss Fortune exchanged glances, each daring the other to protest. Neither did. Instead, they did as instructed.

“First, you must watch what the other is capable of. Learn each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Miss Fortune, you will begin.” She gestured to the practice dummy they had found in an abandoned merchant’s cart along the road. “You will initiate combat repeatedly. Astarion, you will note hi-” she paused, correcting herself “their speed, their mannerisms, everything you can. And then, you will switch. I will merely watch tonight, but tomorrow I will instruct. Do you understand?”

“Sounds simple enough, but are you sure this is necessary?” Astarion asked coolly.

“If you like your guts inside your body, it is.”

“When you put it that way, let’s begin!” Astarion laughed nervously.

The pale elf stood watching with his hands on his hips as Miss Fortune ran through the exercise over and over. Tonight, they practiced a stealthy approach where they crouched down and drew closer to the practice dummy as quietly as possible before delivering a swift, sudden strike.

The sun was beginning to set, leaving pockets of darkness Miss Fortune could step or roll between to stay obscured. Fresh as they’d been to the thieves guild, they’d done several jobs for them working the streets. It was those experiences they tried to conjure memories of to guide their movements. But even so, those jobs were mostly to cut purse strings or extract information. Prior to being kidnapped they’d only killed one person before. And that first kill had been left with so many stab wounds the detectives hadn’t been able to identify the body. So while they’d excelled at stealth, their sneak attacks were guesswork at best. They had no idea where to stab a body to do the most damage in one go.

Over and over again Miss Fortune retreated, snuck their way over to the practice dummy, and jabbed. They tried to ignore the nerves that came with being assessed as they realized Astarion and Lae’zel’s eyes never left them. When sweat began to drench their shirt they simply removed it. Goose flesh dimpled their skin and a shiver went down their spine from the sudden cold. It wasn’t until about five rounds after the half-elf thought they couldn’t take it anymore that Lae’zel told them to stop.

“Enough. Astarion, report. What are their strengths and weaknesses?” Lae’zel demanded.

Astarion crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re nimble, darling, and you have a good eye for keeping to the shadows. But you have no idea where to aim your blade,” he said, sounding bored.

“That’s not what I’m used to hearing,” Miss Fortune smirked, flicking their gaze briefly downwards toward their crotch and back.

“Oh ha ha, what a time to develop a sense of humor.” Astarion rolled his eyes, then sauntered over to where the half-elf stood. “Allow me to show you.” He stood right behind them, his breath in their ear as he drew a sharp finger across their throat. “I’m sure you’re acquainted with every rogue’s favorite spot, the throat slit.”

Miss Fortune became aware of his scent for the first time - a combination of earth, citrus, and something else they couldn’t quite place. They found it utterly alluring. “You smell good,” was all they could think to say.

“I know, darling, I missed my calling as a perfumer. Do try not to let my aroma distract you,” the pale elf chided as he moved his hand slightly to the left, nearing the side of their neck. Miss Fortune visibly tensed, waiting. He mimed a stab-and-jerk motion to the side of their Adam’s apple. “A jab like this and they’ll bleed out in moments, gurgling helplessly on their own blood.” He moved again, now hovering a hand over their eyes. “A quick stab through the eye will render a brain quite useless. You could achieve a similar effect jabbing through the back of their neck, though your blade is more likely to get stuck if you don’t know what you’re doing - and you clearly don’t, not yet.” Next his hand went to their ribs, and as his fingertips brushed against their exposed skin Miss Fortune shivered; was Astarion cold to the touch, or was their sweat-soaked body merely playing tricks on them?

“A quick jab between the ribs will puncture a lung and they’ll be unable to call for help,” Astarion continued. Even talking about murder, the man’s voice was so sensual and calming, somehow soft and gravelly at the same time. Miss Fortune realized it would take a great deal of willpower to not just agree to anything he asked for when he used that voice. The pale elf’s hands traced along their ribs down to their lower back before miming another double jab. “Those darling kidneys back here don’t like to be prodded either; while this won’t bring as swift a death as other places, rest assured your target will not be long for this world without those organs.”

The cold feeling dissipated as Astarion stopped touching them and continued the demonstration elsewhere on their body. “Nobody expects a thrust to the armpit, yet you can get a lovely bloodletting from that most unguarded place,” he said as he once again moved his hand to mime thrusting into the crook of their arm. “And of course, darling, there’s always a good stab upwards at the crotch. But we’re not on intimate enough terms yet for me to show you that one,” he teased, stepping away.

“If you’re done with your demonstration, it’s your turn Astarion,” Lae’zel interjected.

The pair of rogues switched places. Miss Fortune felt ill at ease standing with Lae’zel. They blocked her presence out of their mind, instead putting all their focus on watching Astarion run through the same maneuvers they’d just finished. The half-elf noted with approval how gracefully he moved as he flitted across the clearing. Almost like a cat, his feet hardly seemed to touch the ground at times. They were certain his stealthiness surpassed theirs. When it came time to strike, however, Miss Fortune noticed two things: he seemed to hesitate for a split moment deciding where to strike, and his strikes were surprisingly weak given his athletic physique. His build was slighter than theirs but his muscles were better defined, so the revelation was baffling. They relayed these thoughts to both Lae’zel and Astarion when it came time to report their findings.

“I’m merely holding back, darling, wouldn’t want to intimidate you if we’re going to be forced to work together,” Astarion sniffed, though his eyes darted to the side as he spoke.

“Enough,” Lae’zel cut in. “I agree with your assessments of each other. You’re dismissed for the night. Rest up, I won’t go easy on you tomorrow.” She left without waiting for a response, leaving the rogues alone in the clearing at the edge of camp.

“Well, this is an interesting development,” Miss Fortune tested the waters.

“Mm, yes, I suppose it is,” Astarion drawled, once again sounding bored.

“I’m gonna go wash up in the river; care to join me?”

“I’ll pass, little bird. I’ve got my own needs to see to.”

“Understandable,” Miss Fortune said with a smile, trying to mask their disappointment. “Perhaps I’ll catch you around the fire after?”

“Perhaps,” Astarion said with a noncommittal wave of his hand as he turned to leave.

The first thing Miss Fortune did when they got back from the river was stop by Gale’s tent to see how he was feeling. They felt a pang of guilt when they realized he’d already turned in for the night. It had been a jolt to their nervous system watching the barbarian bandit smash his back against their knee. They could still hear the sickening snap of his spine, feel the erratic racing of their heart as they feared for their new friend’s life. Lae’zel had been right. They had bickered with Astarion over their approach and wound up alerting the group to their presence, effectively handing over the advantage. Gale was in this sorry state because of them, and now they’d have to stew in their guilt a little longer before they could properly apologize.

Miss Fortune recognized that familiar dark, heavy fog rolling through their brain, and they thought of the other night when Astarion barged in on them furiously jerking off in order to earn enough peace for a night of sleep. Remembered his words of how so-called normal people handled insomnia and decided to try reading the book they’d nabbed from the ruins that day.

And so it was that Astarion returned to camp to find Miss Fortune stretched out on their stomach by the fire, brow furrowed as they stared down at a mildewy tome.

“Ah, I see you’re picking up a new hobby,” the pale elf interrupted smugly. “Borrowed a book from Gale, did you? This one has seen better days. I would have thought the wizard would take better care of his most prized possessions.”

Miss Fortune looked up from the ancient text. “I grabbed this from the ruins today - it looked cool, but…I’m having a hard time reading it. Seems like the writing is very old.”

“Hmm, mind if I have a look?” He asked as he glided down to sit beside them. Miss Fortune pushed themselves up and handed the book over. He snapped the book shut to observe the cover and looked as if someone had doused him with icy cold water. “The Curse of the Vampyr?! What in the hells possessed you to pick up a book like this?”

“I…what’s wrong with it?”

Within moments the calm, charming mask was back in place. “Oh, nothing really, this is just much too advanced for a novice reader like yourself. Tell you what: why don’t I take this off your hands, and you can borrow one of my storybooks? I’m sure I have something more suitable. I might even have one with pictures.”

“…Sure, sounds great,” Miss Fortune said suspiciously. They could tell something was off about this situation, they just couldn’t tell what. “Thank you.”

“Of course, of course, anything for my favorite traveling companion.” His face was too perfectly composed, only deepening the half-elf’s unease. They decided to change the subject. “On another note, Astarion, I’ve noticed that you haven’t really eaten much of anything the last few days.”

“Have you now?”

“I struggle with that, too. Growing up I sometimes was purposely not given food for days at a time so I could be thinner, and even now it can be difficult not to do it to myself.”

“…I see.” His face was unreadable, as if resolved to give nothing away.

“You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. Just know that I get it and I’m here if you want to talk. But keeping our strength up is more important right now than a thin waist. That’s what I keep trying to tell myself, anyway.”

“Heh, you’re sweet. Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be up for sharing in due time, little bird. But for now, let me fetch you a new book.”

He rose, taking The Curse of the Vampyr with him into his tent. He returned moments later, a fresher, smaller text in his hand. “Here,” he said, holding it out. “This one’s got dashing knights and the like, should be far easier to get through.”

“Hopefully it will help quiet my mind,” Miss Fortune sighed as they took the offered book.

“Well, I suppose you’ve always got your old fallback plan if it doesn’t, hmm?” His grin was nearly predatory.

“Hey, whatever works, right?” Miss Fortune shot back, refusing once again to give him leverage over them for that. “Thanks again for the book. I’d better get to quieting my mind one way or another. Sweet dreams,” they said as they got up, rolling their bedroll back up. They spared one last backward glance on their way to the tent to find Astarion watching them go. In the glow of the fire, they noticed a deep sadness in his eyes that matched the brokenness Miss Fortune felt inside. They felt an invisible tug to go back over to him but ignored it - it was too soon, they reminded themselves.

“Sweet dreams,” Astarion replied before he, too, got up to put out the fire and return to his tent.

Sweet dreams were not in the cards for Miss Fortune, however. That night they thrashed wildly in their bedroll, sweaty and afraid, as visions flitted through their mind. They dreamt they were stuck in a bird cage with nothing but a bed clad in the finest silk sheets. As the scene panned out they were one of hundreds of people trapped in a field of birdcages. A pair of giant hands methodically opened each cage, removed the person, and either choked the life out of them or outright snapped their necks. The walls of Miss Fortune’s mind reverberated with the sickening sounds of bones snapping and people gurgling, fighting for breath. As each one died the giant discarded them unceremoniously into a pile until they had to crane their neck to see to the top of the pile of corpses. Their dream self searched the whole cage for a secret exit, finding none. Next they tried to pick the lock of their cage but their fingers didn’t work right and they kept dropping their lockpick. The hands reached their cage and the half-elf tried to flee only to find the silk bedsheets had come to life, wrapping themselves around their wrists and ankles. They were bound tight as the hand reached in for them, the giant’s rumbling laugh shaking through their whole skeleton.

“Do you want a quick death or a slow one?” it boomed.

“Quick!” Miss Fortune shouted, eliciting more peals of booming thunderous laughter.

“You don’t deserve a quick death. Request denied.” And a hand closed around their windpipe.

Chapter 2: A Reluctant Leader

In the interest of keeping things family friendly on Tumblr, I’ve left out the mild 🌶️ part - you can read the whole chapter on AO3, though!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298/chapters/165181885#workskin

Summary: Gale and Lae’zel join the party, and Lae’zel has choice criticisms about Miss Fortune’s battle prowess. Miss Fortune continues to unravel at night, and Astarion catches them mid-pity party. The pair discuss the gift of freedom.

Two fresh faces sat around the campfire tonight, their unfamiliar features illuminated by its orange glow as the stars above yawned and stretched awake. Miss Fortune was exhausted from all the walking, from having to play the leader - now with more people to herd around. Gale of Waterdeep, a wizard, seemed pleasant enough, if a bit long-winded and over-confident. Miss Fortune found it amusing that he claimed prodigy status in nearly the same breath as he’d needed to be pulled out of a waypoint he’d trapped himself in with a wayward spell. But the rogue liked the kind twinkle in his eyes, his gentle demeanor; and they certainly couldn’t complain about the delicious stew he’d stirred up from their foraging today.

They’d also found the green woman again - Lae’zel was her name. A Githyanki warrior. Miss Fortune had never met a Githyanki before, and from the little glimpse of the culture they’d gotten so far, they were glad they’d been spared this long. They didn’t care for her brusque attitude or her threatening glare. Rescuing her from the rickety cage those tieflings had trapped her in also introduced additional tension into their group as Shadowheart and Lae’zel quickly displayed a festering enmity towards one another. Miss Fortune didn’t envy their future self if they had to eventually choose between the two.

It was just Miss Fortune and the new additions sitting around the fire for supper. Shadowheart had made it clear she did not wish to break bread with a Githyanki, and Astarion had made some excuse about being eager to get back to an exciting part of his book while he ate.

“Thanks for cooking, Gale,” Miss Fortune said to the wizard. “This was delicious.”

“My pleasure, Miss Fortune,” Gale replied. “Can’t say I’m much of a hunter, but I’m happy to do my part around the hearth.”

“Serve yourself another helping,” Lae’zel commanded, staring the half-elf down. Her disdain for them was clearly visible even from the other side of the fire.

“Excuse me?” Miss Fortune replied.

“You are underfed,” the warrior insisted. “Scrawny. Weak. If you don’t gather your strength, you won’t last a tenday.” She stood, stalking around the fire to where Miss Fortune sat. “Stand. Let me show you.”

The half-elf looked to Gale for help, but the wizard was avoiding eye contact and looking deeply uncomfortable. Perhaps hearing a shift in the tone of their banter, Astarion had come out of his tent, leaning casually against the pole of the canopy with his arms crossed over his chest. Miss Fortune realized they were on their own. Humoring Lae’zel, they stood sullenly, setting their bowl down by the log they’d been sitting on.

Lae’zel circled them like a hyena sniffing out carrion, her long, sharp fingers poking and prodding as she went. “I feel sharp rib bones where there should be muscle. A hollow stomach, weak arms. How do you expect to fight like this? Tsk’va, can you even bear the weight of a sword?”

“Three days ago I wasn’t expected to fight at all,” Miss Fortune said, staring her down.

“Circumstances have changed, istik. You’re pathetic. If we had been raised together at my crèche, you would have been such a liability that I would have killed you at the first opportunity, if the sa’varsh didn’t cull you first.”

Miss Fortune’s mind reeled at the abusive words being spat at them. The insults burrowed into their mind deeper than the tadpole; the half-elf could feel them taking root, spreading the rot of self-loathing further still. Just what I needed, they thought. More ways to be insecure. Lae’zel’s criticisms were a sharp contrast to everything they’d grown up hearing, when they were denied food for not being thin enough. This was a new chapter in a long saga of always being too much and not enough all at once. And yet, with both Astarion and Gale bearing witness to their humiliation, a small voice in the back of their mind urged them to resist.

“Do you hear me?” Lae’zel hissed. Her hand shot out to grab at Miss Fortune’s chin. Panic clawed at them in that instant as flashbacks played through their mind of so many different hands wrapping themselves around their neck; crushed windpipes, ugly purple bruises, coming to with a healer’s face looming over them, gasping for breath even as the air felt like fire in their lungs. Pure instinct kicked in as they evaded lightning fast and elbowed her in the stomach, stepping out of range before she could react.

“Touch me again without my permission and you’ll find out firsthand how deadly I can be,” they threatened. Miss Fortune donned a mask of steely resolve that they hoped would look more believable than it felt. “There are more ways to be lethal than brute strength, Gith, and you’d do well to remember that next time you wish to humiliate me in front of our companions.”

Lae’zel remained doubled over while she fought to regain her breath. Once she did, she smiled cruelly. “Good. So he does have a spine in there somewhere.” Did Miss Fortune detect a hint of respect in her tone? Probably not.

“‘They.’ My pronouns are they/them.”

“Chk. Your pronouns will be was/were if you don’t bulk up. My warning stands.”

“Lae’zel, down girl,” Astarion cut in at last, remaining well outside her reach. “I think you’ve made your point.”

Miss Fortune let out a huge sigh of relief as they watched the warrior stomp off to her tent and immediately begin sparring with the air. They picked their bowl back up and took a second helping, sitting back down next to Gale.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” they said to the wizard.

“I’m sorry I didn’t step in,” he replied, bashful. “Truth be told, that one intimidates me.”

“Ha! You’re in good company then,” Astarion drawled as he sauntered back over to the fire, taking a seat on the other side of Miss Fortune. “You did well standing up to her, though if I were you I’d sleep lightly tonight.”

“Thanks, Astarion. So comforting. Anyway…Gale, what’s Waterdeep like? I’d never left Baldur’s Gate before my abduction.”

Gale was more than happy to regale them with extensive stories on the history and landmarks of Waterdeep as well as his personal fond memories while Miss Fortune finished eating. The half-elf made a point to nod along and voice noncommittal approval every now and again, but they noticed Astarion made no such effort. He instead chose to slouch back and inspect his nails, which he kept filed in neat points.

“Astarion, you’ve got cleanup duty tonight,” Miss Fortune stated once Gale’s story had petered out.

“And break a nail? I think not,” the pale elf retorted haughtily.

“Everyone does their part, your honor,” Miss Fortune warned as they slapped their knees and stood up. “There’s no servants out here. I’m going to go check on Shadowheart. Later, gentlemen.”

“Ugh, fine,” they heard Astarion complain as they walked away.

Miss Fortune found Shadowheart kneeling in prayer in front of her tent, head bowed and hands steepled. They wordlessly kneeled in front of her, waiting for a small while before she noticed another presence nearby.

“Hi,” she smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Just checking in,” Miss Fortune smiled back. “I noticed the tension between you and our new Githyanki companion.” They shuffled a little closer until their knees were almost touching, and Miss Fortune was pleased, if not a bit surprised, that the cleric didn’t shuffle away.

“I would be lying if I said I welcome her addition to the party,” she admitted. “I don’t trust her.” The cleric shifted her posture, moving from kneeling to a relaxed cross-legged pose. She fished the mysterious artifact out from a pocket and began toying idly with it. Miss Fortune made a silent note to get her to spill the truth about that as soon as possible.

“I know, and I’m with you. I don’t trust her either, but she seems so confident about the cure waiting in her crèche. We can’t afford to turn our nose up at any leads, Shadowheart.”

“I hate that you’re right,” she admitted. “I’ll do my best to be civil but that’s as much as I can promise. You’d do well to demand the same from her.”

Miss Fortune held up their hands in surrender. “I’ll see what I can do, but not tonight. She’s already detailed the many reasons I should die over dinner; I’d hate to add more to her list.”

Shadowheart gasped, then put a hand over her mouth to stifle laughter. “Did she?!”

“With Gale as my very unsupportive witness I can assure you, she did.”

Unable to keep it contained, Shadowheart’s sharp laugh cracked like a whip in the space between them. “I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I almost wish I’d seen it. Anyway, thanks for checking on me. I’d do well to get back to my nightly prayers. Goodnight, Miss Fortune.”

“Goodnight, Shadowheart,” they said as they rose.

The campfire was deserted by the time Miss Fortune ambled back over, and they couldn’t tell whether they felt relieved or disappointed. They realized the specific company may have tilted the emotion in one direction or the other; on one hand they were relieved Lae’zel was out of sight. But Astarion remained aloof and something of an enigma, one the half-elf was curious to uncover. Perhaps another night, they thought to themselves.

Alone, Miss Fortune threw a few more sticks on the fire before taking a seat in front of it. The cracks of dry wood igniting and the drone of insects chirping filled the night air. The sounds were still unfamiliar and overwhelming to them, but less so than the night before. They remained unnerved by just how small and insignificant it made them feel to sit under a blanket of stars, however. They were just a speck of dust floating through the world, really. A speck of dust that now had four people looking to them for answers they didn’t have.

With a heavy sigh, Miss Fortune realized they’d traded the panic of the previous night for a sinking, familiar numbness. They pulled their knees to their chest and stared unblinking into the dancing flames, letting their eyes go unfocused as they burned and watered. An ugly thought intruded: what if they just…laid down in the fire? The pain wouldn’t last long, and on the other side of it would be blissful nothingness. No more being too much and yet not enough. No more parasite, no more nightmares. But no, the fire wasn’t big enough anyway, and the smell would likely wake someone up in time to douse the flames and heal their mangled flesh. If only mending the mind were as simple as calling upon one’s god and shouting te curo.

Miss Fortune held vigil over the dying fire until the last embers turned to ash before they doused it with water out of an abundance of caution; Shadowheart had warned to never trust a dry fire pit to stay dormant. At last they retreated to their tent, collapsing on their bedroll with a groan. The heavy blanket of numbness continued to weigh on their chest, yet their mind would not relinquish the drone of insecurities in favor of sleep. They knew from countless other nights like this that no amount of pleading with themselves would bring the sweet relief of sleep.

There was only one thing that usually worked when their mind was in this state. With a heavy sigh, they slid down their breeches…

Read the rest here

The Embrace of Love and Death

Welcome to the first chapter of my fanfic, “The Embrace of Love and Death”! When rogues Astarion and Miss Fortune (OC) get abducted from Baldur’s Gate and infected with mind flayer tadpoles, they both become “conveniently lost” from their troubled homes. As they grapple with their past traumas they find companionship, healing, and eventually love and renewed purpose in each other. Will getting a mind flayer parasite inserted into their eyes wind up being the best thing that ever happened to them? This slow burn tale of romance, sex, and healing will reveal the answer to that in due time.

Prefer to read on AO3? Gotchu covered right here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298#main

Chapter 1: Fresh off the Nautiloid

The sun was beginning to set on a day so bad that calling it a nightmare would be about as euphemistic as calling a raging owlbear a hungry house cat. One moment Miss Fortune had been trailing their mark through an alley in the slums of Baldur’s Gate, and the next they were abducted into a nautiloid, strapped in a mind flayer pod with a tadpole burrowing into their brain. They’d met that green woman, rescued a cleric named Shadowheart from her mind flayer pod, fought screeching imps, and then crashed the whole damned ship into who-knows-where. They had no idea how they survived the ordeal, but the screaming pain in their head didn’t give them much hope that their luck would last.

They’d never even been outside of Baldur’s Gate before, and now they were lost in the wilderness with two strangers. They’d lost sight of the green woman after the crash, found Shadowheart outside, and met a handsome, effeminate high elf with blindingly pale skin who’d tried to slit their throat on sight. The elf’s name was Astarion, and while they’d talked him down from violence and convinced him their odds of survival were better together, the half-elf rogue resolved to keep an eye on him. Not that they could fully blame him for the attempted murder; had the roles been reversed, they probably would have done the same. But still, they much preferred their blood inside their body.

Miss Fortune couldn’t for the life of them understand why their new companions were already looking to them like some kind of leader. While they were used to people gravitating to them in more mundane settings due to their good looks and charismatic persona, those skills hardly felt useful out here. What the hells did they know about anything real? They’d have to fake it, they realized.

“Sun’s going down, and this spot looks as safe as any to set up camp,” they said with feigned confidence. The companions nodded, set down their packs. Still they looked at Miss Fortune, waiting for instructions. “Err…do either of you know how to start a fire?”

“Gods, this is hopeless!” cried Shadowheart. “Have you never camped before?! No matter, I’ve done it plenty. Watch and learn, gentlemen, because I won’t be doing this by myself every night. I’m not your camp mother.”

Shadowheart walked the others through the process of setting up camp, showed them how to catch fish from the river and impale them on sticks to cook over the fire she started. Miss Fortune stumbled over their actions, and Astarion was even more helpless - but they managed, and they had places to sleep and food to eat by the time the sun winked out of the sky.

“So, Miss Fortune is an interesting name,” Shadowheart said cautiously between bites of fish and the other rations in their packs. “Did you come up with that on your own?”

“I did,” they replied. “I don’t like to take myself too seriously.”

Astarion snorted. “Really? I never would have guessed.”

“Why ‘Miss Fortune’ if you’re…well, you know,” Shadowheart pressed, gesturing to their masculine body.

The half-elf was about 185 centimeters tall and lanky to the point of looking underfed, but their lean frame had the buds of muscles beginning to form from the last couple moons they’d spent running with the city’s thieves guild. Their tan skin was sprinkled with freckles over the slight bent of their nose and high, prominent cheekbones. They had raven-black hair with violet highlights that was shaved at the sides while the long top was pulled into a tight bun at the back of their head. A purple-inked tattoo of three swallows swooped out of their hairline, fluttering across their left temple, and despite the harrowing day they’d had, the berry-colored lip stain and angled purple eyeshadow they donned each morning remained fairly well intact.

Miss Fortune worked hard to cut a visage that danced the line between masculine and feminine, though they often found themselves shackled with the ill-fitting label of ‘man’ by strangers who could only see the world in terms of this or that. All of which was more than the rogue was willing to explain to someone they’d just met.

“It suits me,” they said instead. “To my foes, an encounter with me spells their misfortune. And to my friends, well…I can only hope they feel fortunate to know me. And besides, everyone knows luck is a lady.”

“I can go with that,” Shadowheart agreed. “If not for you, I would have had the misfortune of staying stuck in that mind flayer pod. Though I hope you and our pale friend here will be able to hold your own out here. You both strike me as pampered city boys, judging by your lack of survival skills and soft hands.”

“I’m a city person, yes, but I would hardly consider myself pampered,” Miss Fortune replied. “Not everyone works with their hands, you know.”

“Yes, some of us work with our minds,” Astarion chimed in. “I’m a magistrate back in the city. All terribly boring work I assure you, though I can handle myself with a dagger.”

Having finished their fish and rations, Miss Fortune looked over at Astarion as he spoke and noticed him slowly pushing his food around the plate without eating.

“Food not up to your standards, your honor?” Miss Fortune jabbed. “I’ll take whatever you don’t want.”

“Oh, by all means enjoy,” Astarion said, handing the plate over. “This is hardly the fare I’m used to.”

“So, how about you, Shadowheart?” Miss Fortune changed the subject while shoveling Astarion’s food into their mouth. “You mentioned you’re a cleric - you from The Gate?”

“I am, and I’ll be headed back not a moment after we find a cure. I’ve something very important waiting for me back home.” Shadowheart’s facial expression darkened; Miss Fortune sensed it was a touchy subject and wondered if it had anything to do with that strange artifact she carried. She’d been dodgy when they asked her about it after they reunited on land.

“Impatient to get back to a lover, perhaps?” they jested.

“I don’t see how that’s your business, but no, and we’ll leave it at that” she replied.

“All right, all right, we girls all have our secrets,” they said, crossing their legs and miming tucking an invisible strand of hair behind their ear. “Anyway, thanks for showing us how to set up camp. I’ve got cleanup.”

The trio each went their separate ways after dinner; Shadowheart and Astarion heading to their respective tents, Miss Fortune down to the river bank with the dirty dishes and a rag. As the half-elf knelt by the river scrubbing away, their senses were assaulted by all the unusual sounds and smells surrounding them. They were used to the din of pedestrians day and night, the hawking of vendors and clopping of horse hooves on cobblestones. There were always sounds and scents in the city, and even when they were unpleasant their presence was oddly comforting. Out here in the dark with all these new sensations, they found themselves feeling utterly alone and insignificant.

Another familiar and unwelcome sensation began to coalesce at the edges of their consciousness, as if their head were filling up with a swarm of angry bees. It happened often enough that the half-elf knew they didn’t have long before their mind assaulted them and robbed them of rational thought. They quickly finished their cleanup duties and rushed back to camp, placing everything in a neat stack by their packs. By this point, Miss Fortune’s lips and the tip of their nose had started to tingle, their chest felt tight, and the buzzing feeling in their head had intensified to a dull roar.

This can’t be happening right now, they thought to themselves. Please, please not now. For a devout person this would have been the time to begin praying, but Miss Fortune knew it was pointless; no god had ever deigned to answer before.

Perceived danger lurked in every corner, every shadow of the camp. Frantic and woozy, the half-elf began to search for a place that would be out of both Astarion and Shadowheart’s line of sight. They ducked behind a large rock that seemed to fit the bill and let their trembling legs give out beneath them. Crumpled into a ball, their breath grew shallow and ragged as a world of nightmares clawed into their thoughts.

Everything is terrible. I’m going to die out here, Miss Fortune’s thoughts screamed at them. I can’t do this, I can’t survive whatever those monsters did to me on the ship. We’ll never find a cure. I’m going to turn into a grotesque mind flayer, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. My life is over. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die! And I can’t do anything to stop it…I’m too weak…I’m going to die all alone. Utterly unloved. And nobody will miss me. Worst of all, I deserve this. I’ve never done anything worthwhile with this pathetic life of mine, not once in these miserable 28 years.

Tears rushed out and streamed down their face in an ugly, snotty mess as the panic fully gripped their mind. A gulping cry escaped their lips in defiance of their efforts to fall apart quietly, which only made them wish to hide somewhere further away from their new acquaintances.

“Is…something the matter?” they barely heard a cautious man’s voice call out. “Why, you’re positively shaking!”

Miss Fortune buried their face in their knees. “Please, don’t look at me,” they sobbed.

“I…should I leave?” Astarion asked.

“Go ahead. I’m…fine,” the half-elf lied.

“I’m not stupid, you are clearly not fine.”

“The Ma—my old boss always told me I’m just overly dramatic. I’m having a dramatic episode, as she used to call it.”

He’s going to hate you now too, the negative thoughts intruded. Not even a full day in and you’ve shown just how weak and pathetic you are.

Astarion stood there in dumbfounded silence as he watched Miss Fortune gulp for air, seemingly unsure whether to approach or wipe his hands of the whole situation and return to his tent.

“You should try this thing called breathing,” he called out eventually. “In, out…in, out…surely you know how it works.”

While the tone was condescending, it struck a cord. Miss Fortune focused on their breath between sobs, inhaling slowly through their nose and exhaling through their mouth. It took several long moments, but the angry bees began to fade and the maelstrom of negative thoughts receded along with them. Their chest still felt tight, their eyes ached, and as the last of the panic ebbed they were left with the usual crushing exhaustion; the usual collateral damage when they lost a war with their mind. Their body posture slackened as they heaved a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” they mumbled into their knees. “I’m not usually this weak, I swear. It’s just been a hell of a day.”

“…you should get some rest,” Astarion replied, his voice deadpan and unreadable. “I’m not feeling tired just yet, so I’ll keep watch over you and the camp.”

Miss Fortune rose unsteadily to their feet, lurching to the side as their knees threatened to buckle. They recalled the flash of steel against their throat hours earlier; were they less drained from their mind’s attack they would have laughed at the irony of his offer.

“Thank you, I’ll feel better knowing you’re watching over us,” they lied instead. “Goodnight, Astarion.”

“Goodnight, Miss Fortune,” he replied coolly.

It was all the half-elf could do to keep from hurting themselves as they collapsed onto their bedroll. Despite their misgivings about Astarion, they were too tired to keep their eyes open. And if he slit their throat in the night, well, they probably deserved it anyway.

We've Made It, My Dear

Pairing: Gale x Drow!Dark Urge (Named)

WC: 1.9k words

Tags+Warnings: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Post-Canon, Happily Ever After, Hurt+Comfort, Nightmares, Mentions Of Gore, References To Death, Dark Urge Storyline Spoilers, Epilogue Spoilers

Author's Note: First time in a WHILEEEEE I've actually written something, and I'm pretty proud of it! Even while on the Dragon Age: The Veilguard hype train, I'm still enamored with BG3 and the Forgotten Realms haha. Didn't edit this brute, but I did look at it and nod approvingly before finally posting. Please let me know if I missed any tags or warnings. Enjoy!

It wasn’t the weight of the tressym on his chest nor the gentle breeze whispering through the open window that awoke Gale. It was the absence of a warm, familiar body by his side.

The milky moonlight spilling into the bedroom framed his belongings -their belongings- a cool silver hue, sharply contrasting the blots of darkness Gale’s eyes hadn’t yet attuned to. A deep sleeper, Gale wasn’t prone to waking in the night, but when he did, it always amused him to see how Nobody passed her time while waiting for him to stir. Some nights, she would read by his side, her pitch-black gaze flitting across every word with more ease than it would in daylight. Other times, she’d patter about the room as stealthily as a drow could manage, inspecting the manner of trinkets and artefacts he had collected over the years. Tonight, she was nowhere to be seen.

Gale carefully shifted Tara off his front and pushed back his blanket, affording himself a quiet congratulations for managing not to wake his fussy companion. Carefully setting his feet on the cold hardwood floor, he navigated the cluttered pathway from his bed to the door, each footfall as silent as the last. He reached for his housecoat, which typically hung from the doorknob, only to find it missing.

He frowned slightly as he turned the knob and made his quiet exit. Down the hallway and to the right, the glow of a gratuitous amount of candles emanated from downstairs. A somewhat concerning sight, knowing that Nobody was as at home in the darkness as she was in light.

The journey to the first floor was a mite more hurried than his escape from the bedroom had been. As he descended the last few steps of stairs, Gale examined the living room. Fully lit. Not a soul to be seen.

“Straj… Sorry, love. Get back to bed. I won’t be far behind you.”

Gale whipped his head towards the kitchen entrance. His startled heart calmed slightly when he saw that it was only Nobody, her grayish-white hair still mussed from sleep, as his must have been. She leaned against the doorway with a guilty smile and his own housecoat wrapped snugly around her frame, yet her eyes told a different story than what her casual demeanor sought to imply.

Nonetheless, Gale sighed in fond annoyance, crossing his arms. “Well, bully for my students, I suppose. They’ll ask me tomorrow, ‘Professor Dekarios, did you get even a wink of sleep last night? You look positively dreadful!’ And I’ll have no choice but to tell them the truth.”

“Oh?” Nobody purred, amused. “What would that truth be, sweetmeat?”

Wandering carelessly to the sofa before the hearth, Gale sat himself down, leaning back on its arm and lifting his legs onto the cushions, spreading them just enough for a lithe drow to slither between and rest her head on his waiting chest.

“That Mrs. Professor Dekarios cruelly abandoned her husband in the cold,” Gale answered simply, eliciting a snort from Nobody. “Don’t you try and tell me that Tara would gladly be my blanket on your behalf. We both know that she’s only a cuddling type at the most inconvenient of times.”

Just as expected, Nobody quickly caught onto her opportunity. She sauntered over with eagerness and slid into her rightful place, a territory she often playfully bickered with Tara over. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she basked in his warmth, the harried expression she worked to hide beginning to melt.

With one hand, Gale lavished her back with slow, languid strokes, the curves and dips of her body flowing familiarly beneath his touch. His other cradled her head with the tender care of a man who had seen her at her worst; who had seen her slick with the blood of innocents, watched as she writhed and thrashed against the bindings he himself tied to keep her from slaughtering him where he stood and cried wordlessly at her corpse after her last stand against her unholy father, the God of Murder. He held her as if after everything she did in the past, in another life, she still deserved comfort. Care. Love.

To Gale Dekarios, formerly known as Gale of Waterdeep among his peers, she truly did. The Dark Urge and Chosen of Bhaal, in his humble opinion, had died at the hands of Orin the Red years ago, back before their adventure had even brought them together. The woman he had met who lay in his arms was his wife, Nobody Dekarios, who had yet to come up with a proper name for herself, always promising him with a cheeky grin that she’d ‘get to it eventually.’

And he’d be damned to the Nine Hells before he let any matter trouble his incorrigibly mischievous, indescribably wonderful wife, no matter how inconsequential.

Or how early in the morning. Or late in the night. Gale hadn’t a single clue what time it was, and frankly, he was hesitant to find out.

“My love,” he said delicately.

“Mhm?”

“Is something bothering you?”

Nobody’s eyes flicked open, her steady breathing hitching. The slight furrow in her brows from earlier returned to her face. The smile on her lips became that much more strained and her eyes refused to meet his, as far as he could tell.

“I’d rather not keep you from your beauty sleep, sweetmeat,” she chuckled uncomfortably.

“Hm… I see. If it’s something we can’t solve with a fireball, you can tell me,” he chided her, gentle yet clear. Nobody rarely took her own issues seriously. Gale learned early on that she often needed a little time to come to terms with what she faced before talking her emotions out.

The corners of Nobody’s eyes crinkled as she exhaled a little laugh at his joke. “Gods, now that I’m awake, it seems rather stupid.”

“My love, the stupidity of your troubles matters not to me.” Gale gave her hair a gentle tug, prompting her to look at him. “I’m here. You’re here. If it’s something we can solve right here and now, we’ll do it together.”

Nobody went silent for a while. She absentmindedly rested her cheek back to his chest, her brow knitting together in a different manner, thinking on how to word her problems out. All the while, Gale held her close, still stroking her back and toying with her hair as patient as could be. Her breathing grew even and her eyes closed, and Gale had almost thought that she had fallen asleep when she finally spoke.

“I- ugh. I had a nightmare.”

Gale’s hand paused its leisurely stroll down the planes of her back. Nobody seldom fell into true slumber, instead opting to go into reverie. As a drow, however, the sleep of ordinary folk was not unknown to her. It seemed that one of her off nights wasn’t as restful as she needed.

“It was… uncanny,” she continued quietly, looking to him once again. “Remember the first party Withers threw for us? We were there. Everyone was the same as they were at the time, happy and smiling and drinking. Except you.”

Gale tilted his head with curiosity. “Is this where the dream goes south?”

“I was- you were- it was sad,” though she laughed through her words, she was distant, trying to talk without thinking about what she was saying. “We did it- we finished off the Absolute, the Chosen, everything. But the crown… you wanted the crown. You wanted to challenge Mystra, so you did. You failed.”

“Your mirror image told me everything in your place: how you got the Crown of Karsus, how you fought Mystra for her domain and how she obliterated you. You gave me a letter I couldn’t bring myself to read. I tried to kiss you, and… nothing. I guess I forgot that it wasn’t you- just a projection. It told me before it disappeared, ‘I can see why I loved you.’ And then it was gone. You were gone.”

Nobody’s voice cracked on the last of her words. Despite his best efforts, Gale recalled the day that Nobody died. His heart shattered on the floor of that wretched temple when Nobody fell to the ground. He felt as if he was drowning, overwhelmed by everything in that moment. The smell of blood permeating his senses. The blank stares of the surrounding cultists, witness to the fall of two leaders in one day. The thoughts in his head, asking over and over why? Why now? Why, when we’ve finally come this far? Why so soon after I’ve only just found her?

“No Waterdeep, no Mrs. Professor Dekarios, no homemade hundur sauce,” Nobody laughed humorlessly. “And look at me, on the verge of tears because of a bad dream. You’re a patient one, sweets.”

“I love you.”

The words came out of Gale’s mouth without a single thought, as they tended to. Loving her was as easy as breathing and to say it was as natural as any spell. Still, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

With a soothing smile on his lips, he pulled Nobody into a kiss, taking in every facet of her being. From the way her long hair tickled his cheeks to the natural scent of her, all petrichor and night-blooming flowers, and even the small noise of surprise she made at his affection, she was breathtaking. Resilient, but most importantly, she was here. Home, in his arms.

They’d made it. The worst of their days were over. Perhaps not forever, but they could breathe easy and live and love each other while they waited for life to take them on their next adventure, whether it be the next Dekarios family reunion or another cult to battle against for the fate of the world.

Gale Dekarios was nothing if not profusely verbose. Even if his kiss had told her all she needed to hear and feel, he refused to let a single doubt plague Nobody’s mind. When she pulled away, he cupped her cheek, reveling in the sweet smile she spared just for him.

“Whatever the Gale in your dreams said and did, give him a good clip ‘round the ear for me next time you see him,” he said firmly, making her giggle. “If he starts sulking on about ambition and godhood again, let him sulk. If he believes that the mere chance of godhood is worth more than the most wonderful woman in this plane and beyond, then I consider that excellent news- more of that aforementioned woman for me to enjoy, I’d say. If I give you even a fraction of a fraction of the happiness you give me every day, then I can confidently say that we don’t need to worry about either what happened before or what could’ve been. Safe to say, the less you think about that prat, the better.”

“You’re not getting jealous of Dream-Gale, are you, sweets?” Nobody teased.

“Jealous? Hah! Hardly,” Gale sniffed. “Disappointed? Definitely. Furious at him for making you distraught? Absolutely, if you’ll pardon my pun. But I refuse to be jealous of a man who’s already fallen after flying too close to the sun. Who needs the sun, when I’m already able to hold the world in my arms?”

Nobody buried her face in his chest, hiding her expression. His love was always too modest for her own good.

“You… ugh. I love you too, but stop that.”

Gale grinned, kissing the crown of her head.

He didn’t plan to.

~Fin <3~

ACE BG3 BABES RISE UP?????? 😭😭😭😭

Gale with an Ace!Tav (Part 1)

I've been thinking about Gale with an Ace!Tav

More specifically, a Tav that hasn’t told Gale that they’re Asexual yet. 

Not because he wouldn’t be accepting or assuring that he would love Tav all the same (because he would) but in the haze of endless battles and conflicts on their path towards a cure for their infection, there was just never a good time!

They could mention it after the night they spent channeling the Weave with Gale, but a simple thought of a romantic walk isn’t enough confirmation that he would even feel the same way. So why risk it?

It might have even come up naturally during the tiefling party, with tensions still high after the defeat of the goblin leaders, but when some gentle flirting leads to Gale telling them his condition poses too much of a risk for a physical relationship, the point becomes moot anyway. 

Tav isn’t really sure how to explain that even if they could engage in physical intimacy with Gale, that it isn’t necessarily something they want to do. So they say they’ll wait for him instead, promising that it would never change their romantic feelings for him.

Gale has no idea how much they mean it.

After Elminster stops the orb’s unpredictable power, time is running out for Tav to tell him. Gale becomes bolder in his flirtations, even going so far as to express his desires in front of their other companions after a particularly stressful battle in the shadow-cursed lands.

By the time Gale summons Tav one night for a ‘private conversation’ far away from camp, Tav realizes they should have said something sooner.

Beneath the shining aurora that Gale conjured just for them, it only deepens their feelings towards him. It also raises the potential for hurt, if they were to break his heart by telling him they don’t share the same kinds of feelings he clearly feels for them.

As Gale begins to offer them a night of passion under the stars, they brace themselves to finally tell him the truth, fearing his potential rejection, but what he has in mind is different than what they expected.

The way he talks about using the Weave to connect their souls rather than bodies, electing not to ‘confine ourselves to the pleasures of mortal flesh’, Tav is intrigued. They were never aware of a way to bond with a partner like this that didn’t require a physical form. It was the perfect compromise. A way to show Gale their love for him in a way that he preferred!

Maybe they wouldn’t need to tell him after all.

After learning about that quote on Astarion's shirt in EA, I couldn't stop thinking about it. So I had to try to put it into words somehow:

"Could I kiss you?" you ask, still feeling that bashful flutter in your stomach. But he hums, visibly pleased with the idea.

"How could I say no?"

You smile, struggling to hold a wide grin that threatens to make you look like a fool in love. Which you helplessly are, no doubt.

You lean in, and your lips brush in a soft kiss - familiar, gentle. But when your hand settles on his shoulder, your fingers pause.

“What’s this?” you murmur, fingertips tracing an uneven spot in the fabric you haven’t noticed before.

"Oh, that." He barely glances over, already knowing what you mean. "It’s nothing... just something I made, a long time ago."

He takes a small step back, looking away, his eyes distant again. You wait, daring not to pull him back just yet. You let him decide. And he does, letting out a sigh and looking back with the same vulnerability that turns your heart inside out.

"It was something I made as a reminder, back when there wasn’t much to hold onto. When I was at... his place."

That piercing gaze is full of honesty and careful trust.

"It sounds important. What is it about?.."

You take a small step closer, tilting your head to get a better look, but you wait for permission. He hesitates for a moment but spreads the folds of the shirt, revealing a neat, eloquent line of words embroidered under the waves of ruffles, close to the heart.

"It says - lamentable is the autumn picker content with plums."

You reach out to touch the letters, and he remains still, watching you with the familiar intensity you didn't know you needed in your life. The silence is comfortable. You turn the words in your mind, catching the meaning.

You picture him bent over this shirt, needle in hand, stitching that one stubborn hope into the fabric he kept mending for too many times. Something no one could take. A reminder that even then, he was longing for more.

"I was a plum picker back then," he continues as his fingers softly tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear, taking their time, hovering over your skin, his eyes pensive. "Forced to live on bruised fruits and scraps. I had to remember there was more. There had to be more, even if I didn't know how it looked."

You turn your head, leaning into his touch, and look into his eyes.

“What about now?” you whisper.

He meets your gaze quietly, talking a moment to think, as if he’s still learning the answer himself.

“Now... I think I do.”

It is a quiet and thick summer night. One of those when the air smells like spices and leaves warmed by daylight.

Astarion steps back into the lightened circle of your campfire, lowering himself on the bedroll. He was hunting in the forest - successful but uneventful routine.

His hunger is sated for now, yet his brows still grow tight together as he looks around, taking in the silence. You aren’t here.

He picks up a book, turning the pages by the flickering light of the fire, his mind far away. Until he hears the steps and the corners of his mouth curl into a small smile.

He doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is, and he doesn’t flinch when your arms wrap around him from behind, gentle and warm. He just raises his hand to place over your arm as you rest your head against his shoulder and let out a dramatic sigh.

“You were gone for too long,” you mumble with a playful pout, softly nuzzling the curve of his neck with your nose. “I got bored waiting. So I went for a walk too. But really, you could’ve just bitten me instead. At least then we’d have spent that time together.”

Astarion chuckles, slightly leaning his head closer to yours. “Darling, your blood is far too invaluable to be treated as a mere convenience. It’s better reserved for more special occasions.”

You chuckle, brushing your lips along the pulse line on his neck. Your teeth grazing his skin in a teasing imitation of a bite.

“Then I’ll make us even,” you growl quietly, struggling to hold back a wide grin. “It’s my turn now.”

Astarion doesn’t hold back an amused laugh, short but light and unguarded. The sound you love so much. He turns around to look at you with a familiar smirk. “Oh? Is that so?”

He pulls you on his lap and you readily settle there, your eyes softening from mischief to warmth. You tilt your head, studying his face.

“Hold still…” you ask gently and Astarion arches his eyebrow but obliges, watching you raise your hand.

Your thumb carefully brushes his cheek, stroking a small drop of dried blood on his skin.

“Missed a spot,” you smile softly, wiping it away with the corner of your sleeve.

“…Thank you.” Astarion closes his eyes and leans into your touch for a moment, his lips brushing against the fabric wrapped around your arm.

You nod, satisfied, and lean back, reaching into the pouch still hanging on your belt, and luring out something small and delicate - a white flower with pointed, like a star, petals.

“A present! I found this while I was walking,” you say with a bashful smile. “It looked just like a star. Reminded me of you.”

He hums, both touched and amused. “Because my imperishable beauty outshines even the stars above?”

“Because you always shine, even in the dark,” you reply simply and tuck the flower behind his ear.

Astarion blinks, caught off guard for a moment, before a real, tender smile blooms on his lips.

He leans in and softly places a kiss on your forehead, then draws you close to his chest.

“So do you, my sweet.”

Halsin Silverbough Caregiver 🌿

Halsin is my absolute comfort character so yk what, let's do this.

- He already takes care of kids, so he’s got lots of experience!

- He is incredibly protective of Tav, esp if they are in a relationship, and will not rule out physical means to keep you safe

- Uses names like ‘little cub’, ‘pup’, and ‘kiddo’

- If you have a favorite animal, you know he’s making you little figures of that animal, and finding out where he can take you that has them

- Will absolutely keep you fed and warm, always picking berries with you, peeling you fruit and making you little drinks

- Cuddles and naps in wildshape, he’s literally a giant teddy bear

- Will take you on little walks outside of camp given its safe, can be in either the woods or the city!

- Loves to hold your hand, lift you up/hold you, and cuddle you, but also fully respectful of personal space ^^

- Checks in with Jaheria to make sure that he’s not doing too much

- Adores it when you bring him little things you find around camp, whether it be bugs, berries, flowers, and he will support your little adventures

- Will help talk with you, and will tell you the names of whatever plants you wanna know about

- Also is a CG for Astarion, as well as Karlach!

Astarion X Reader

✨Reader is Horn✨

masterlist

funnily enough, there is no sex in this fic. Just a short drabble of communication.

The campfire crackled under the dim twilight, casting long shadows across scattered bedrolls and worn boots. The air was still thick with the scent of the last skirmish blood, sweat, and a hint of singed hair. Everyone was winding down. You sat cross legged near the fire, arms resting on your knees, deep in thought. Astarion lounged nearby, wine cup in hand, eyes glittering in the firelight. He watched you closely, as he often did, as though trying to read your every thought like a well worn book.

Then, with all the casual weight of commenting on the weather, you announced. “I think I’m going to have sex.”

Silence. Even Lae’zel paused mid sharpen, casting you a side glance. Astarion straightened slightly, eyebrows lifting in both amusement and interest.

“Are we now?” he drawled, setting down his cup. “Well, I’m flattered. Not surprised, of course but flattered.”

You blinked. “What?”

Astarion leaned forward, lips curling. “Darling, there’s no need for coyness. If you need someone to… satisfy your sudden urges, I’d be happy to oblige. Gods know I’ve been waiting for you to finally admit it.”

You stared at him for a beat, then snorted. “Oh. No. I wasn’t talking about you.”

The silence that followed was somehow louder than the last one. Astarion’s smile twitched, just a little. “I beg your pardon?”

You shrugged, nonchalant. “I was thinking… probably Gale.”

Astarion looked like you’d just slapped him with a wet sock.

“Gale?” he repeated, aghast. “You’re choosing the walking arcane lecture over me? That man has more monologues than passion, and his idea of foreplay is a history lesson.”

“He’s sweet,” you said simply, pulling your cloak tighter around your shoulders. “I don’t know. I just feel like I need to get it out of my system. Nothing deep. Just… need to do something irrational for once.”

“Gale,” Astarion muttered again, then let out a sound between a scoff and a laugh. “This is some sort of fever dream. Or perhaps a punishment from the gods.”

You smiled. “Astarion, not everything is about you.”

He grinned back, sharp and wounded. “It should be.”

You stood up, stretching. “Anyway. I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I’ll sleep on it.”

“Oh, by all means, take your time. I’ll just be here, knowing I was passed over for a man who talks more to his floating book than to actual people.”

You gave him a pat on the head like an annoyed cat and turned toward Gale’s tent.

Behind you, Astarion called out, “If he starts reciting poetry during the act, run.”

The fire had long since crackled into glowing embers, its warmth now a quiet hum in the cool night. The camp had settled into silence, the sounds of rustling blankets and steady breathing drifting in from the other tents. Astarion sat alone, still where you’d left him, wine cup now untouched.

He stared into the dark woods, eyes unfocused. He wasn’t thinking about monsters or traps. No. Something far more unsettling had taken root in his mind.

You. You and your ridiculous declaration. You and your infuriating unpredictability. You and… Gale. He scoffed aloud, quiet and bitter. Gale, with his grand words and glowing hands. Gale, who probably asked for consent like it was a spell component.

It doesn’t make sense, Astarion thought, fingers curling slightly at his side. You’re allowed to bed whoever you wish. You owe me nothing. I never claimed to He paused. Frowned.

“Gods,” he whispered into the dark, realization dawning like a slow, creeping horror. “I’m jealous.”

The word felt foreign on his tongue. He almost laughed him, jealous? It was laughable. He’d never needed anyone before. Never cared if someone wandered off after a flirtation, or if they found pleasure in another’s arms. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? Pleasure without consequence. Desire without attachment. But tonight, watching you casually toss aside what he thought was a mutual spark no, knew was had stirred something ugly and unfamiliar in him.

“I don’t get jealous,” he said aloud to the night, trying the words again, firmer this time. “I don’t do jealousy. It’s beneath me.”

But the fire in his chest said otherwise. It wasn’t just bruised ego. That he could handle. He wanted you to choose him. Not out of convenience. Not out of need. But because you wanted him, just him. He leaned back against a log, running a hand through his hair with a low groan. “This is an absolute disaster.”

For the first time in centuries, Astarion wasn’t sure how to play the game. Worse, he wasn’t sure he wanted to play at all. He wanted to be with you. But how the hells did he even begin?

Morning crept into the camp slowly, light spilling over bedrolls and dewy grass. Birds chirped far too cheerfully for anyone’s liking especially Astarion’s. He sat on a rock near the fire pit, legs crossed elegantly, skin glowing like always, and of course he looked amazing. Until you walked out of your tent.

“Well, well,” he drawled without looking up. “If it isn’t the temptress of the Weave herself, back from a night of sonnets and magical satisfaction.”

You stopped mid stretch. “What?”

Astarion turned to you, faux innocence painted across his face. “Oh, don’t play coy. I’m just dying to know how our dear Gale fares in the bedroom. Did he conjure you a glowing review? Perhaps summoned a satisfaction score from the Weave?”

You blinked, then burst out laughing. “Calm down, loverboy. Nothing happened.”

His smirk faltered.

“…Nothing?” he repeated, cautious.

You dropped onto a log across from him, grin wide. “Nope. We talked for like ten minutes, then he got distracted explaining the theory behind dreamscapes and how the mind processes intimacy while unconscious.”

Astarion looked like he aged a century. “Of course he did.”

“I almost fell asleep standing up,” you added. “I think at some point he forgot I was there.”

Astarion made a strangled sound in his throat and tossed a twig into the fire. “Well. I’m sure that was incredibly titillating.”

You rested your chin in your hand, watching him with a glint in your eye. “What’s with the attitude? I said nothing happened. A girl’s allowed to have urges, you know.”

His eyes flicked to yours, fast and sharp. “…Urges?”

You shrugged, teasing. “Yeah. Just figured it was time to get it over with. Stress relief. You know health reasons.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes. “You were going to treat it like a medical appointment?”

“Exactly. Routine check up. The doctor was just… overbooked.”

The vampire groaned and threw his head back. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Mm, maybe I will, we will just have to wait and see unril you stop being jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

You raised an eyebrow.

“I was… annoyed. That’s different.”

“Mhm. You sure you weren’t picturing Gale putting on a robe and lighting candles while reading me his dissertation on foreplay?”

“I hate how accurate that sounds.”

You chuckled again, leaning back on your hands, eyes on him now with something softer. “You’re cute when you’re bitter.”

Astarion’s gaze flicked toward you again, but this time there was something quieter in it. Something careful. “And you’re a devious minx when you laugh like that.”

“Oh?” you smirked. “Scared I’ll seduce you with my wit?”

He looked away, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“No,” he murmured. “Scared I already am.”

––––You sat cross legged on a blanket just outside the camp, your sketchbook resting against your knees. Gale was beside you, hunched over his own page with careful strokes, charcoal smudged on the side of his hand. It was quiet. You could hear the rustle of paper, the soft exhale of Gale’s breath as he concentrated. Every so often, he would glance at your work, but he never commented unless you did first.

“Is that the Underdark cave?” you asked after a while, tilting your head toward his page.

He smiled, barely lifting his gaze. “It is. Not as foreboding on paper, is it?”

You hummed. “I would say it is still very foreboding.”

“I like it too,” he said, voice quiet.

You looked at him then how the light caught in his curls, how the frown of focus softened his features. There was something incredibly human about Gale in moments like this. Something grounding. Then he set the charcoal aside with a gentle sigh and glanced your way.

“I’ve been meaning to bring something up,” he said carefully. “Last night… when you mentioned what you wanted from me.”

You tensed slightly, setting your pencil down. “Right.”

“I was flattered,” Gale said with a small smile. “Truly. You’re… lovely, and clever, and far more patient than this strange journey has any right to demand. But I want you to know it’s not about you.”

You blinked. “What isn’t?”

“I don’t exactly know my stance on physical intimacy without affection. Not for myself, at least.” His gaze dropped to his hands, fingers lightly dusted with black. “It would feel hollow. Transactional. And I’ve already been part of one dangerous entanglement with shallow roots.”

You were quiet for a moment, then nodded. “I understand. You deserve real love.”

Gale looked up at you again, softer now. “We all do.”

You bit your lip, nodding again. “I respect that. I hope it didn’t seem like I was pressuring you.”

“Dont worry your pretty little head about it. I know. You’re too considerate for that.” He paused. “Which makes it even more baffling how you endure him.”

You blinked. “Who?”

Gale looked toward the center of camp, where Astarion was perched on a fallen log, basking in the sun and pretending not to eavesdrop. “That creature,” Gale said, voice dry. “A walking vanity project, Honestly, it’s like camping with a predatory peacock.”

You snorted.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Gale continued, warming to the roast. “I’m sure he’s quite talented in the dark. centuries of seduction will hone one’s… muscle memory but I imagine it’s about as emotionally fulfilling as being serenaded by a harpsichord made of teeth.”

“Gale.”

“No, really. He pouted for twenty minutes this morning because his hair got flattened during trance. He looked like a drowned cat who couldn’t manipulate the mage hand spell to fix it.”

Astarion glanced over then, voice saccharine: “You’re talking about me again. I must be ravishing to live rent free in the brain of a man who hasn’t even kissed anyone this decade.”

Gale raised a brow. “I’d sooner kiss a gelatinous cube. At least it wouldn’t try to kill me afterward.”

You covered your mouth, barely muffling your laugh. Astarion scoffed but didn’t move. what? he was listening. he couldnt help it.

Gale’s voice softened slightly then, a lilt of sincerity slipping beneath the sarcasm. “But jokes aside… be careful.”

You blinked. “With Astarion?”

He nodded. “He’s clever. Charming. entirely capable of making himself whatever you want him to be until he’s not.”

Your gaze dropped back to your sketchbook, heart thudding.Then, as if to break the weight of it, he chuckled faintly. “Besides, if we’re talking about primal urges, I believe our resident vampire spawn has more than enough… enthusiasm to spare.”

You laughed, leaning your head back. “You think Astarion’s dying to jump my bones?”

“Oh, I know he is. He practically disintegrated when you told him nothing happened between us.”

“He did look like he’d swallowed a lemon.”

“He looked like he’d been given the feast of the century. Honestly before you said anything, I haven’t seen a man so heartbroken since… well, me.” You nudged him with your shoulder, smiling. “But,” Gale continued, quieter now, “just remember there might be someone else who wants that closeness with affection. Someone who might be afraid you’ll offer it to someone else first.”

You turned your head slowly, eyes meeting his. He didn’t say Astarion’s name again. He didn’t need to.for the first time in a while, your heart beat a little faster not from fear, but from the weight of someone else’s longing you hadn’t quite dared to name.

The sun had risen high enough to dry the grass and heat the stones, but the camp was still unusually quiet. Most of the others had wandered off some hunting, some meditating. You were by the water, splashing your fingers across the surface, letting your boots dangle in the current. Astarion’s shadow fell over you before his voice did.

“You know,” he began, casually enough, “I’ve been thinking.”

You looked up. He was standing just off to the side, arms crossed, expression unreadable but his eyes were trained only on you.

“is that new or did you want to share with the class,” you said

He huffed a laugh but didn’t banter back. He just stepped closer, his voice quiet. “Why didn’t you ask me?”

You blinked, confused for a moment. “What?”

He met your eyes now. “When you decided you needed… something. That night. Why didn’t you come to me?”

You turned your gaze back to the water, thoughtful. “Because I couldn’t.”

He tilted his head, studying you. “Couldn’t? Why?”

You were quiet for a long moment. Then, with a breath, you said, “Because I just wanted meaningless sex. Nothing more.” Astarion flinched not outwardly, but in the smallest corner of his expression, in the way his mouth parted like he’d just been stung. “And that’s not something I could ever have with you.”

You turned to face him now, fully. “Out of everyone in this camp… you’re my best friend. Like, yes, I care about the others. Gale’s a good man. I trust him, I do. But the bond I have with him it’s not like what I have with you.”

Astarion stood there, silent.

“With you,” you continued, voice softer now, “I can’t turn it off. I can’t just pretend it’s only physical. You’re not a passing urge. You’re the person I go to when I can’t sleep. You’re the one I want near me when things go wrong. You’re the one I trust when I don’t trust myself.” He blinked slowly, like the words didn’t quite register at first.

“And if we crossed that line,” you added gently, “I don’t think I could ever call it meaningless. Not with you. Not even if I tried.”

The air felt still around you, like the world was holding its breath. When Astarion finally spoke, his voice was rough around the edges. “I think you just ruined every one of my excuses for why I’m not already in love with you.”

You gave him a smile, wide eyed surprise. He sat down next to you without asking, his shoulder brushing yours. “I’m not saying I am,” he added quickly. “But if I were… that would’ve made it a lot worse.”

You laughed softly, leaning your head on his arm. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“…No, I’m not.”

ू(ʚ̴̶̷́ .̠ ʚ̴̶̷̥̀ ू) Like Real People Do

Astarion Ancunín X Reader

Synopsis- how do you both really understand each other. Why can’t you love like real people do

“I know very little about this man, but as a devoted lover of Hozier, this song made me think of him….. Oh, did you see me complaining the other day about all Astarion fics being the same? Shut up and read the story. I know you all will still read it, you desperate whores.”

ू(ʚ̴̶̷́ .̠ ʚ̴̶̷̥̀ ू) The night was cool, the stars burning quietly above as the two of you sat a little away from the camp. The others were asleep, but you knew Astarion wouldn’t be resting at least not yet. He never truly let himself rest, even when his body was still.

The firelight flickered across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his red eyes seemed almost golden in the dim glow. But there was something dark lingering in them tonight, something unspoken that had been clawing at him for days.

“I had a thought, dear,” he murmured, his voice soft but carrying an edge of something wary, almost sharp. “However scary.”

You turned to him, sensing the shift in his mood. “Tell me.”

His fingers twitched where they rested on his knee, as if he were debating whether to reach for you or not. He didn’t. Instead, he exhaled, gaze fixed on the fire.

“About that night,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “The bugs and the dirt. Why were you digging?” His eyes flicked to yours, searching, unsure. “What did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth?”

You swallowed, understanding what he meant what he was truly asking.

You had found him, once. Broken, lost, a ghost of a man forced into survival. You both after the ship were so lost. You had reached for him without hesitation, pulled him from the dark, and given him something he still didn’t fully understand. But what had you sacrificed to do so?

You sighed, your fingers curling in the fabric of your sleeve. “Maybe… maybe I buried the part of me that thought I could walk this world alone.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s a poetic way of saying you were already broken.”

You frowned at that. “I never said I was broken.”

“No?” His head tilted slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Then why? Why care for me, of all people?” He let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “I’m not some tragic hero in a story. I am selfish. I am cruel when it suits me. And I was. am. a man made into a monster. You should have left me in that grave.”

His voice cracked on the last word. He hadn’t meant for it to, but it did.

You reached for him then, slowly, giving him time to pull away if he wanted to. He didn’t. Your fingers found his, cool and trembling, and you held them tight.

“I care for you,” you said, voice steady, “because I see you.”

His breath hitched.

“You are not just what he made you,” you continued. “Not to me.”

Astarion turned his face away, as if your words were something sharp he couldn’t bear to touch. His throat bobbed, his fingers tightening around yours.

“You make me feel real,” he whispered, as if confessing a sin. “And I hate it.”

You exhaled a quiet laugh, squeezing his hand. “That’s alright.”

He turned back to you then, something vulnerable and raw in his eyes. “You’re alright with loving a man who doesn’t know how to love himself?”

You smiled, shifting closer until your foreheads nearly touched. “I think that’s why I love you, Astarion. Because I want to show you how.”

His breath shuddered against your skin. For the first time in centuries, he let himself believe.

Astarion was quiet for a long time. The fire crackled between you, but his fingers remained tangled with yours, his grip just tight enough to keep him tethered to the moment. You could feel it the weight of everything he wasn’t saying, the ghosts of centuries clinging to him like a second skin.

He had told you pieces of his past, but never all of it. And you had never asked. You watched the way his jaw tensed, how his shoulders curled inward as if bracing for something inevitable.

“I will not ask you where you came from,” you murmured.

His head turned slightly, red eyes flickering toward yours in quiet surprise.

“I will not ask you,” you repeated, voice gentle but firm. “Neither should you.”

He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Something in him loosened, something old and afraid.

“You don’t want to know?” His voice was almost cautious, as if the question itself was foreign to him.

You shook your head. “I want to know you. Not the things you were forced to do. Not the chains that bound you. Just you.”

Astarion swallowed hard. He had spent so long believing he was only what had been done to him, that there was nothing else nothing worth salvaging. But here you were, sitting beside him, holding his hand as if he were someone worth touching.

As if he were someone worth loving.

Slowly, his free hand lifted, brushing over your knuckles. A hesitant, unfamiliar gesture. His eyes studied the way your fingers curled into his, as if trying to understand why you weren’t pulling away.

“I don’t know who that is,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know who I am without, without him.”

You squeezed his hand, grounding him. “Then let’s not look back. Let’s just be here. Now.”

Astarion let out a soft, shaky laugh, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, there was something lighter in them something fragile but real.

“Here. Now.” He tested the words, as if rolling them over in his mind. Slowly, carefully, he let his head rest against your shoulder.

For the first time, Astarion let himself exist without expectation, without past or future. Just here. Just now. with you.

The fire had burned low, glowing embers casting long shadows across the ground. Astarion still leaned against your shoulder, unmoving, his fingers still curled around yours. He felt real like this warm, tangible, not just some fleeting ghost of a man lost to time.

And yet, something lingered in his eyes when he finally looked at you. Something raw.

“I knew that look, dear,” he murmured, voice hushed in the stillness of the night. His red eyes searched yours, sharp and knowing. “Eyes always seeking.”

You parted your lips to respond, but his fingers cold, careful lifted to trace along your jaw, silencing you.

“There was someone once, wasn’t there?” His voice was softer now, almost gentle. “Someone you buried long ago.”

Your breath hitched.

He tilted his head, his eyes flickering over your face, studying every shift in your expression. “So I will not ask you why you were creeping,” he murmured. “In some sad way, I already know.”

Your throat tightened. Because he was right.

Maybe you had found him in the dirt, broken and lost, because some part of you had been buried there too. Maybe you had seen your own ruin in the ghost of a man clawing his way out of the earth.

But none of that mattered now.

Not when Astarion was here. Not when his hand slid from your jaw to your cheek, his touch trembling but sure. Not when his breath mingled with yours, and his eyes softened in a way you had never seen before.

“Honey,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “Just put your sweet lips on my lips.”

His lips barely brushed yours hesitant, uncertain. A question more than a kiss.

And you answered.

You pressed forward, slow and deliberate, your fingers tangling in his curls as you pulled him closer. Astarion inhaled sharply against your mouth, his other hand gripping your waist as if anchoring himself to the moment. He kissed you like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to, like he was still waiting for the moment you would realize he wasn’t worth this kind of tenderness.

But you didn’t pull away. Instead, you kissed him like you had all the time in the world. Like he was someone worth keeping.

quiet and still, save for the soft crackle of dying embers and the distant rustle of leaves in the wind. The world felt small in this moment just you, Astarion, and the fragile space between you.

His fingers lingered against your cheek, cool as marble, trembling ever so slightly, as if he still wasn’t certain you were real. As if he wasn’t certain he was real.

You watched the way his expression shifted, the war within him written across every furrow of his brow, every flicker of doubt in his crimson eyes. There was a time when he might have masked it all behind a teasing smirk or a well-placed quip, a time when he would have used charm as a shield. But here, now, he let himself be bare before you. No pretenses. No games. Just the truth of him, laid out in the fragile press of his lips to yours.

And gods, how fragile he was beneath it all. How much he had been taught to believe he was unworthy of this, of you.

His forehead stayed pressed against yours, his breath shallow. He didn’t speak for a long time, only let his fingers trace idle patterns over the back of your hand. Then, so softly it was almost lost to the night, he whispered, “I’ve never had this before.”

You swallowed, your grip on him tightening. “Had what?”

His gaze flickered up to meet yours, something raw gleaming beneath the firelight. “something that meant something.”

You felt your heart twist at that, at the quiet pain woven into his words. The idea that a touch so simple, so human, could feel foreign to him. That intimacy had always been a transaction, never a gift.

Astarion let out a breath, shaking his head. “I spent centuries pretending I had control. That I was the one taking, the one winning. But I wasn’t, was I? I was just…” He trailed off, his fingers curling into his palms. “I was nothing. I felt like nothing.”

You cupped his face then, guiding his gaze back to yours, refusing to let him slip into the past. “You are not nothing, Astarion.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “And yet, I still don’t know how to be something.”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” you murmured.

His lips parted, as if to argue, but whatever words he meant to say withered before they could form. Instead, he just… looked at you. Like he was seeing something new, something terrifyingly unfamiliar. A possibility he had never let himself hope for.

He exhaled a small, shaking laugh, leaning into your touch. “Gods, listen to me. You kiss me once and suddenly I’m a blubbering mess.”

You smiled, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone. “I don’t mind.”

He huffed, but there was no real annoyance behind it. Only something softer. Something aching.

Astarion shifted, his body relaxing against yours, his head once again resting on your shoulder. This time, though, it was different. He wasn’t just leaning on you. He was allowing himself to be held.

The fire dwindled further, shadows stretching long and deep. But you stayed like that, with your fingers tangled in his, with the slow, steady rise and fall of his breath against your skin.

For the first time in centuries, Astarion let himself be vulnerable without fear.

For the first time in centuries, he let himself stay.

:0