After he kills Cazador and spends some quality time ✨️ with you on his grave he thinks he's all healed now and can be intimate with you with no disgust or loathing
Oh how wrong he was
The grave intimacy was amazing, he was present, focusing only on you, the best night he has ever had
The next time he tries to have a "night of passion" with you is right after you defeat the netherbrain, as a reward and also a celebration
But the unwanted happened: he dissociated
He didn't even realize he wasn't there until you tapped him on the shoulder
It felt like a dagger to his back, but from himself. What went wrong? Cazador was dead. Tadpoles were gone. You were there with him despite everything. Why can't he just have sex with you like a normal person?!
Because healing takes time baby boy 🥺
He ran away that night. Because of anger, shame, desperation, he didn't know. Maybe all of it?
He only showed up two days later, apologizing and offering to continue, claiming to do better this time and not dissappoint you
You just hugged him and told him he didn't need to, that you'll be happy if the two of you just talk under the stars like you used to back in camp
He wants to agree and spend time with you but he blurts out no. He's angry at himself more than you. He just wants to give you everything you deserve, including a proper relationship with everything that belongs to it
You reassure him you understand but he needs time to properly heal
"Time? What should I wait for? Cazador's dead, I'm under no one's control, the wretched worms are gone and the two of us are together. I should be okay!"
It takes some time for him to calm down and admit what he has subconsciously known: he isn't ready yet. No matter how much he wants to be
You see his struggle. He wants it all at once now that he's free
Seeing him in this state makes you want to help him but there's seemingly nothing you can do. Except...
With a smile and no other word you take him by the hand and lead him to your shared bedroom
You start pulling your clothes off of you and you can feel him smirk behind you, until you finally reveal your plan to him
"We'll strip and cuddle. Nothing more. You need to explore other ways of being intimate, not just sex."
He's a bit puzzled to say the least. He has never heard of laying with someone naked as the day they were born and just...lay. By all logic and what he's known for most of his life it makes no sense. How can someone get pleasure out of just laying? He imagines it would be similair to locking him in a bloodbank but forbidding him from touching anything
Regardless, he starts stripping. If this is some manipulative tactic of yours it's pretty weak but he wants to see where this will go
No tactic, no ill intention, the two of you strip and get under the covers
He lays down after you and for a second has no idea what to do. Should he embrace you first? Should he wait for you?
Carefully, as if aproaching a stray cat, you move closer to him and slowly lay your head on his cool chest
The lack of clothes makes this a completely new experience for both of you, the contrast between your warm living body and his cold undead one is much more evident now
After a while you get a bit bolder and fully cuddle up to him, arm wrapping around his torso, your legs locking around one of his
When he felt your sex press against his thigh he expected to get aroused. Logically he should, right?
But he didn't. And neither did you. You just sighed and relaxed more
Astarion propped up his head with one of his hands, the other one brushed along your spine up and down
"This feels... nice."
You smile against his pectoral, silently celebrating your small victory
As you begin to drift off, lulled by his rhythmic breathing, he makes his own step forward and turns fully towards you, one hand on your lower back pushing your torsos together, the other pulls your thigh up and hooks it around his hip
If he was hard and you moved just a bit downwards he would slip right inside you, so close and yet
He nuzzles his face into your neck and plants a little kiss on your pulse point, over the marks he's made on you while feeding on your blood
"This is really nice," he purrs like a cat
When you wake up the next morning you remain in the same position as when you fell asleep, the only difference is Astarion's hands: firmly planted on your ass
After your first little intimate session he feels a lot more relaxed, behaves a bit more carefree, a bit happier over all
You try to carefully suggest couple of more cuddlings but he needs little convincing
Once the door to the bedroom is closed all clothes are off
Almost. Every. Night.
It was like entering a whole new universe for him, he wanted to explore everything this new arrangement could offer him
The two of you tried every position you could think of, it kinda reminded you of sex minus the sweaty mess afterwards
On the bed, spooning, chest to chest, sitting down, him between your legs, you between his, on the love seat, random windowsill, standing behind you with his amrs wrapped around you while cooking
When you had very busy days but still wanted the skin to skin he would go shirtless, tear your own shirt off of you and hug you as long as he could
An absolute power trip for him would be if you were the only naked one, sitting in his lap while he himself sat somewhere, either a couch or some random chair
Makes his imagination run wild. What if he had ascended back then? He would think of how he would make you slowly strip infront of him while he sat on a throne of sorts in Cazador's, now his, palace. How your naked body would dance against the finest silk of his robes as he took you over and over again
As much as this little idea aroused him he was glad it stayed only in the realms of "what if". He couldn't imagine how ascession would corrupt him and rob him of what he currently has
He loved taking you in missionary, but he might love having you sit on his lap a bit more
Your soft breasts preassing into him, head resting on his shoulder, giving him the perfect angle to grab your ass and squeeze it like a stress toy
Not to mention your weight grounding him in case his mind decided to wander against his will
However the more often you spend time like this, either sleeping cuddled up together or just hanging out, the less he felt his consciousness slipping away. Maybe all he really needed was to adjust his body and mind to intimacy, convice them he's safe with you, that he doesn't need to escape anymore
On one such cuddle session, when he had you comfortably on his lap and his back against the head of the bed, he desperately wanted to suggest trying to make love again
But something inside him, maybe an intuition or fear, told him he might not be ready yet, he might fuck it up again, dissapoint you, and return back to ground zero
Instead he suggested kissing. Small innocent pecks
You agreed with such enthusiasm, it made his heart almost skip a beat
The two of you agreed to go with the flow and let whatever would happen play out, see how far the two of you could go
It really started out innocently
At first you peppered his whole face with small kisses, not leaving one centimeter of skin untouched
He loved being admired, but he wanted to give some of his loving too
At first with pecks
Then proper kiss
An open mouthed kiss soon followed
A tongue slipped out and inside the other one's mouth soon after
You didn't even realize it and you were making out for almost an hour now
It wasn't rushed like when hot passion hurries you, it was slow, intimate, comfortable. Like two people who had all the time in the world and decided to slow down and enjoy eachother
This first make out session didn't lead to anything more, none of you minded. Astarion was happy, so were you. But most importantly he hasn't dissociated in almost a month now
You still cuddled every day, pyjamas and other sleepwear became foreign concepts in your household, maybe one day one of your make out sessions will probably lead to more, who knows
But you do know that if it ever will lead to proper love making, it would be on Astarions's terms. Once he knows and feels he's ready
Until then you'll happily enjoy his naked form just pressed against yours every single night
I think a lot about the fact that Astarion biting you would eventually leave a mark and what HE might think about that.
With a Lesser Restoration spell it would take repeatedly injuring the area for it to start leaving obvious scars, which would take a decent amount of time. Unless you're offering it up nightly(which is fine), but I see it being more common HC, mine included, that not only is it better for him (autonomy wise) to feed off baddies more regularly but also you since, you know, that's bound to tally up against your health if he's feeding on you daily, spells or no.
So how would Astarion feel the first time he catches a look at your neck and sees faint traces of his mark?
Those scars becoming more obvious over time.
The other companions noticing.
Your varied possible reactions changing but not lessening the wide range of thoughts and emotions he could have on the matter.
You could flaunt it, playing up the "hot" Vampire stigma in his mind and making those marks remind him of that everytime..
You could hide it.. making him feel sort of ashamed but also resentful. Why help him if you're ashamed to do so? Maybe you are simply helping to keep someone you need healthy in a fight fit.
Or maybe it just doesn't bother you.
It's part of the help you give. You aren't proud, not embarrassed. It's just not worth worrying about considering all the other scars you're probably accumulating.
Does he feel a sense of claim when he sees it? Possessive in a way he isn't accustomed to feeling towards... anything.
A sense of fondness at the reminder that you were his first tatse of happiness? The first to help him simply because he needed it and you could.
The first aching pulls of affection when he leans into you, the scars catching his eye as he dips his head, lining his fangs up to the mark. HIS mark.
The ways you could handle the scars appearing and he could then respond are endless.
But then..
What would happen if say, Shadowheart happens to want to practice the Heal spell she's just learned? So she takes healing up your bite and bloodless as an opportunity.
But Heal is more powerful then lesser restoration and is known to remove scars, so that mark is erased entirely.
You go about your morning, but the first thing he notices the moment he's joined you is that there isn't a trace of the scars.
Image l Astarion x reader l Word Count: 1.6K l SFW l Synopsis: Astarion has joined the party, it was the smart move, the logical one, but it is starting to dawn on him there might have been another reason...
Astarion didn't know what was happening until it was too late.
The first time he met you he couldn't believe how eager you were to help him. So trusting. So navie.
Which made the hunt all that more... exciting. He couldn't wait to feel it. The sudden jolt of the chest as you realise his betrayal, the rapid gasp for breath as your body begins to panic, and the thundering beat of your heart as fear takes over.
And you, the fool, had offered yourself to him on a sliver plate.
It was all too easy for him to slip up behind you, slide his dagger from its sheath and press the cold blade to your throat.
But you were quick. As soon as the blade made contact you threw yourself back against him. Forced him to the ground where he held you between his legs, knife inches from piercing your artery. Somehow, during the struggle, you convinced him to stop fighting. To trust you.
Let's work together, you said. Was it the tone of voice, the presence of Shadowheart, or the need to survive that got him to drop the knife and join you? You'll never know.
But Astarion will know.
For him it was your heartbeat. It never changed. Never skipped a beat. Never faltered. It only ever pumped harder from exhertion.
He could feel no fear. And he wanted to taste it.
He told himself he was safer in numbers. That travelling with company would make for easier hunting and help him deal with this parasite.
And yet, he never fed on any of the party. Not once. Not when Gale drove him mad with his rambling, not when Shadowheart teased him for his old fashioned speech, not even when Lae'zel threatened his life - as she tended to do often.
Because you were always there. Always watching. Always keeping an eye. And never without your sword. He noticed it stuck to you like glue and was better cared for than your hair which hung sporadically in a messy ponytail. Astarions fingers would twitch at the sight of wispy hairs dangling over your neck or rouge strands that drapped across your flushed cheeks.
It drove him mad.
And even though 90% of the time you were kind. Astarion saw the mischievous side to you. You would steal, and threaten, and bribe for more money. He would glimps a glint in your eye when trouble arose, or a grin if things esclated too far.
Quite the devil, he thought with a smirk.
In the evenings at camp he would keep his distance. Never joining in on conversation or sitting with anyone by the fire.
Yet you would always make an appearance.
"Need something?" He'd ask because everyone wanted something in this world.
But you would shake your head, make small conversation then disappear. And off he would hunt for rabbits and boar, leaving the sleeping humans behind. Unaware of the predator in their midst.
He considered every sunrise about leaving, abandoning everyone and travelling alone. But then he would miss seeing your bedhair in the morning and the drool rolling down your chin and watching you struggle to take down your tent. It had become a favourtie past time of his while he soaked in the early rays.
During the day he would sneak ahead, scout out the surroundings and report back. One day he took a different route back and caught something he didn't quite expect.
It was you. Staring intently at the bush he had left through. There was a crease in your brow as you bit your nails and restlessly shifted from foot to foot. He heard an edge to your voice as you tried to converse with the others.
That day he stayed away longer than intended. Just to watch your expression, watch the tension building in your shoulders, and the agitated way in which you paced. Something about your reaction made him giddy. Just when it looked like you were about to take off after him he decided to emerge.
And he froze from the look on your face. You tried to hide it but he saw it all. Your eyes softened, your lips parted into a wide grin and you whispered so low only his vampire ears picked it up.
"There you are."
After that he became obsessed. He itched for that feeling in his chest again. The one that made his cheeks hurt and his steps lighter. Like the blood high he got after a fresh kill.
He started walking with you. Light chatter at first. Just to hear the sweet melody of your voice. It was mindless things. The weather, the animals, the trees. What you were eating for dinner?
Then he tried finding excuses to touch you. A stroke of the hand when reaching for things. A fallen knee by the campfire he now joined you at. A brush of arms when passing. Each little contact sparked a new sensation deep inside him. It was addictive.
Then one day he made you laugh. The sweet noise itself caught him off guard. Like songbirds. Its lyrical tone thawed some of the ice trapped inside him, it was like feeling sunlight on his skin for the first time. Waves of pleasure cascaded to every nerve in his body.
He wanted more.
And then he remembered the first time you met. That fearless heartbeat. The whole reason he joined in the first place. In pretending to be human he had forgotten why he was here...
He wanted your blood.
Now each moment with you was laced with desire. He found himself daydreaming at the nape of your neck. Lost in the hum of blood rushing through your veins.
But he resisted, because everyone stared at him strangely now. He caught Gale and Shadowheart sharing a look when he went to help you pack up your tent. They smiled to each other, a shared secret. He tried to make out their hushed whispers but couldn't focus past the little angry grunts you made battling the tent.
Lae'zel stopped threatening his life and would often pull new recruit Wyll away from you. The gith had found a new distraction - to Wyll's distain - which coincidently meant he got more time alone with you. And more time alone meant more opportunity to feed. And with each passing day his hunger grew until it was insatiable.
Tonight. He would strike tonight then disappear into the woods.
He waited until everyone was asleep, till the tents closed and the voices died down. It was warm tonight. You had taken your bedroll to sleep in the open. He crept towards you, crawling on his hands and feet.
He knew just by the gentle rise and fall of your chest how safe you felt. How easily you could sleep in the open. Surrounded by comrades. No fear of death. No fear of him.
Astarion closed the gap between you. Your head turned towards the dying fire. Your neck bare before him, veins pulsing just beneath your delicate skin.
He leaned in for a bite.
He smelt the sweat and dirt on your skin. The salted potatoes you had for dinner, the red wine spilt on your shirt.
You had the same expression on your face that day he went scouting. The softened eyelids, now closed. The gentle parting of your lips, now moist with saliva. But there was a strand of hair stuck to your cheek. His fingers itched to curl it back behind your ear. He moved closer, till the sound of your blood drowned out all his other senses.
And then you mumbled his name.
"Astarion"
How you broke him with just one word. A rush of feelings swept over him. Feelings he had been ignoring this whole time. Of butterflies in his stomach. Tingles over his skin. Warmth inside his chest. Sparks within his breifs.
Oh no, he panicked. He tried to move away but couldn't, his instinct taking over.
How did I let this happen?
He stilled over your throat, fangs exposed, unable to take a bite.
What have you done to me?
And then you woke up, and you saw him, and he froze with fear. Because this was it. He was revealed now. There was no turning back. And it hurt him to think there would be no more walks together, no more chats, no more easy banter. No more teasing you. No more jokes. He would never hear that laugh again, never see your concerned face or lose himself in your beautiful eyes.
Eyes that were now staring him down.
But... not with fear, with a question.
With an eyebrow raised and a hand on your weapon he realised you were daring him.
Daring him to take a bite.
Because you knew all along. In the way he snuck off in the middle of the night, the old way in which he spoke, the way he never ate with anyone and distanced himself from the group. You saw him trying to be normal. You saw him desperate for company. You saw him contemplate leaving and it broke you to think of him alone in the world.
Because he was Astarion, he was witty and bad tempered, he made you laugh and feel seen. He made your world that much brighter. And as dangerous as he was you chose to trust him. Because you had an addiction to things like him. And addiction to danger.
And he could see it. That fire in your eyes. That smirk of living life on the edge. Of having no fear.
And the 200 year old vampire who never thought it possible had accidently fallen in love...
Synopsis: Love brings its fair share of sweetness and desire. Headcanons for the companions, on the occasions that Tav charms them quite thoroughly.
Featuring: Headcanons for Tav/Reader x Halsin, Tav x Gale, Tav x Karlach and Tav x Astarion.
Contents: Romance, humour, suggestive language.
Dividers by: @saradika-graphics
(Here I am readers, with more companion romance headcanons. They just keep coming. I am cringey. I embrace it.)
Halsin
"There, more to your left. Yes, that. Careful now. The footing's slippery, this hour of morning."
Elated, you placed your prize in your small satchel. The medicinal moss Halsin had taught you to identify and harvest would work wonders in creating more potent healing draughts.
Yes, they were found in the rather treacherous upper branches of the trees in this particular forest, but the hazard was well worth the -
Your triumph morphed within seconds to a sickening lurch in the stomach region, your foot sliding precariously along the branch you were perched on. You let out a decidedly undignified yelp as you struggled to find purchase and failed.
Halsin was shouting something up at you from where he stood at the base of the tree. Fingers scrabbling for a crevice, you managed, somehow, to cast an almost bungled spell of feather fall before you tumbled down through the foliage.
The effects of the spell took hold, not quite as effective as you'd hoped, somewhat slowing your descent. You braced yourself for the inevitable hard stop, only to find your shoulders and knees caught by a pair of the sturdiest arms you'd ever had the delight of reclining in.
Halsin offered you a reprimanding look.
"Didnt you hear me? I said I'd catch you."
"Ah ... well. Panic had me for a moment there."
The breadth of his chest against your side was warm, heavenly, on the verge of overwhelming. He shifted slightly, his expression turning amused when you showed no signs of wanting to get down.
"Am I to carry you back to camp then? While your delicate nerves recover?"
Amusement now foremost, you pressed a spontaneous kiss to his cheek, inhaling the scent of sunlight on grass, the fresh earthiness of meadowsweet in his hair.
Pulling away, you saw how the light dappled his skin in motley splendor, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, the slightly rougher patches of skin from long exposure to sun and wind.
Tracing a finger over the line of his jaw, you wondered at how the weathering of time and the elements could carve, with such grace, the story of a life well-lived.
"Carry me? Why, yes, that would be most welcome. Of course, you could change to a ... larger form if you wanted to make things easier."
You could feel the quiver of laughter, and the suppression of it as he pretended to consider your proposal.
"Hmm. I take it you refer to the boar? I'm not so sure that you'd find a comfortable seat on my back."
"I clearly wasn't referring to the boar."
"Ah."
He nodded sagely.
"The bear, eh?"
"Nothing else but the bear."
"You're rather ... enamoured of the bear, I take it?"
"I could be persuaded to admit it."
"Well, today won't be the day I persuade you with any other form. Rather ... "
Before you had a chance to protest, he'd tossed you gently over his shoulder, one large hand coming to rest your behind. He patted you firmly.
"Now this is fairly easy."
"Halsin, please - "
"You don't want to be carried? You were quite eager a minute ago."
"Well, yes, in a position that leaves my dignity intact."
He turned slightly, allowing you to see his mischievous smile.
"Ah. Dignity. Quite like clothes. We can do without them at times, don't you think?"
Gale
"Is there something on my face?"
You glanced up teasingly, taking in his slightly flustered expression. Gale lowered the tome he had been 'absorbed' in, clearing his throat. Gods, you loved when he was visibly collecting himself. He didn't quite meet your gaze.
"No, not at all. But sometimes ... reading the countenance of someone dear to you is ... slightly more fascinating than academic pursuits."
Leaning back in your seat, you folded your arms.
"Gale. I never thought the day would come when you - "
"Please don't."
Mouth twitching in silent mirth, you take mercy on him.
"Fine. But you know, if you do want to perform a more ... thorough reading of my countenance, you're most welcome."
He set down his book with an audible thump.
"Ah. Hmm. That's very - "
"Oh, Gods below."
Standing abruptly, you leaned across the table and hoisted him toward you by the collar. The surprised huff that escaped him blew warm across your face, before you tugged him against you, lips moving firmly over his.
It doesn't take him long to find his confidence. It never does, once things have been initiated. Soon, you're the one being pulled forward across the wooden surface, sliding slightly awkwardly into his embrace.
Breaking away long enough to register that you are now practically on top of him, you glance down at the book, teetering precariously on the edge.
"Gale, it's going to fall off the - "
The breath is abruptly knocked from your lungs as he draws you even closer, disregarding your warning entirely. The scrape of his beard against your lips, your chin, your neck, is intoxicating.
"Gale, wait - "
He hums, voice suddenly pitched lower, and you're reminded immediately of rainy days, closeted in his tower, your body arched beneath the lowering curve of his.
In spite of this highly distracting thought, the fate of the book nags at your mind. If anything, Gale was certainly rubbing off on you.
"The book - "
"I've got it."
"Where?"
Pressing lightly on his shoulders you glance around. The book had indeed fallen ... into the grasp of a ghostly hand, its outline barely visible, shimmering faintly.
The corner of Gale's mouth curved.
"Right there. Just so you know, I've written a dissertation on all the potential uses of the mage hand. Would you like me to demonstrate the parts that didn't make it to publication?"
Karlach
For a woman who embodied all that was vibrant and good-natured in the world, Karlach was certainly skilled at playing you like the proverbial fiddle when she put her mind to it.
Sometimes, you wondered whether she'd been taking tips from Astarion, but the manner by which she applied her charm was far too spontaneous to have originated from any advice he could have provided.
After it had been established that you were together, she'd made a habit of turning your cheeks a decidedly duskier shade whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Just yesterday, you'd gone out to collect firewood and she'd insisted on accompanying you. She'd selected suitable trees, lopping off branches with practiced strokes, muscles bunching and coiling as she swung the huge weapon with breathtakingly effortless ease. It didn't help that you'd been caught staring and she'd shot you a cheery wink.
This woman would be the death of you.
Today, it was the wagon.
Halsin had roped in some of his contacts in the locality to trade with you on occasion. These were trusted allies of his, and could be given the location of your camp without much worry.
The road getting here was rough going, though, and by the time the wagon of goods had trundled in, the wheels were decidedly worse for wear. As a gesture of goodwill, your companions had volunteered to replace them, Karlach eagerly taking the lead.
At first, you'd put it down to her ever-present desire to be of as much use to others as she could. When, however, she'd shrugged off her tunic, limbered up as if about to jump into battle and shot you a tell-tale glance before she lifted the cart right off the ground so that Wyll could slip the wheel off and replace it, you knew you were done for.
Feet braced, the tendons of neck and arms standing out, Karlach lifted her lambent eyes to yours and shot you that easy, charming grin, the one that had all too often haunted your more ... impure thoughts.
Oh, she was in for it. Two could play at that game.
Approaching the cart, you casually made your rounds, before sauntering over to her. Karlach's grin had grown noticeably wider with your proximity.
Stopping right beside her, you kept your gaze on the wheel change while your fingers danced lightly up the inside of her elbow. The wagon lurched a little and Wyll cleared his throat in warning.
Appearing the very vision of innocence, you smiled up at her, your touch inching further in, curling around her bicep. Heat flared to life beneath your delicate exploration.
"You really are something, Karlach. No wonder lifting me is such a breeze for you."
The comment was fully loaded with intent. The last time Karlach had lifted you had been against the door of a room in an inn, and the circumstances had been ... less than chaste.
Glancing up, you saw that she was no longer smiling. She was now giving you that look, the soft, kindling, fire-bright sweetness that told you all too well that you'd better seek out some private nook, and soon.
Wyll cleared his throat.
"Karlach? The wagons tilting again."
"Eh? Oh, sorry."
Her head snapped forward and you took the opportunity to raise yourself slightly higher on your toes, pressing your lips, swift and intimate, to the corner of hers.
"See you later, soldier."
And by the Gods, did you feel her gaze scorch along your back as you strode away.
Astarion
You still had no idea why you'd agreed to this. You knew how it played out, every time, and yet, here you were, being positively demolished at game night with Astarion.
Since committing himself to you fully after Cazador's defeat, the proverbial floodgates of Astarion's long-suppressed nature had been dashed open.
He hid notes containing badly composed romantic poetry all over the camp for you to find, flung himself dramatically into your lap after a hard days grind, conspired with Scratch to hide your boots, sang loud, bawdy love songs with your name inserted when he helped with the washing up and forced you to wear matching colours when you went out into the city together.
He was lovely, your rogue who'd worn a thousand faces, but now he had regained so much more of himself. And as much as you appreciated every inch of him, he was a handful.
Especially on occasions like tonight.
You scrubbed a hand through your hair in frustration, shooting him an accusatory glance over the game board where your pieces told the sad, sad story of repeated defeat.
He examined his fingernails.
You growled.
"I told you that you weren't allowed to cheat."
"Cheating? Me?"
His artfully startled expression quickly morphed to one of mischievous glee.
"All right. Maybe I am. A little."
"Astarion."
"My dove, consider it training, of a kind."
"Training?"
"I'm exceptionally skilled at sleight of hand. If you can learn to keep up with me, then it'll take a fantastic rogue to pull one over you."
He spread his hands and leaned back in his chair, infuriatingly handsome (and smug) as ever.
"Besides, you're so pretty when you're ... frustrated. Reminds me of how you mewl when I - "
"I have never mewled. Or made any sound close to that."
"I beg to differ."
Your eyes dropped to the board, considering your next move, when something occurred to you.
Astarion had always been the one to fluster and flatter with his honeyed words in the past, none of which had been truly sincere.
Now though ...
If the kindling of his heart had showed you anything, it was that even he could be susceptible to the charms of someone he truly cared for.
You decided to put it to the test.
Drumming your fingers on the table top, you nodded slowly.
"I agree with you on one thing, at least. You are very skilled at sleight of hand."
He opened his mouth to reply, confidence in the set of his smirk, but you interrupted him.
"Similarly, I am skilled at certain things. Maybe even more so than you."
Oh, now you did have his attention. He paused and arched an eyebrow.
"Well, I won't argue with that. But ... what skills are you speaking of, exactly?"
You briefly lifted your eyes from the game board, fixing him with a penetrating stare.
"I'm a ranger by profession, a hunter through and through. Once I set my sights on a target, there's no getting away."
He was leaning forward now, intrigued.
"Hmm. I've seen that, yes."
"And even though I knew you were not all you appeared to be when we first met, I did set my sights on you."
Nonchalantly, you threw the thought out before returning to the game, offering no further elaboration. Astarion shifted in his seat slightly. You held in your smile.
Eventually, he cleared his throat.
"What do you mean by ... set your sights on me?"
You glanced up, earnestly taking him in.
"I knew you were special, I suppose. My instinct told me so. I learned your scent, as well as you knew mine. I learned your gait so that I always knew where you were, even in the dark. I noticed how you styled your hair, because it told me the kind of mood you were in that day. I studied your drinking patterns, so that I could offer you my blood before you grew truly hungry."
Astarion's eyes were widening slowly. You pretended not to notice as you continued.
"Oh yes. There were many things. Most of all, though ... "
And here you placed a hand gently under his chin, tilting his head to admire him better in the dim light of the camp lantern.
"I learned that you like your name on my tongue, in all its variations."
His voice was positively faint now.
"Variations?"
You offered him a radiant smile, one that drew on every ounce of affection you had for him.
"My sweet star. My unruly nightingale. My beautiful shadow. My bewitching blade dancer. I'll praise you in every form."
And there it was.
Maybe it was only possible due to the fact that he had fed on you a short while before, but the faintest of russet hues, delicate and fleeting, had appeared on the elegant bridge of his nose. You smiled, pressing your lips gently to the tip of it.
Ya. When I am sick, I am a wounded animal. I act like nothing is wrong until I am basically collapsing and then I am all alone.
Prompt: Illness
Paring: Halsin X Reader/Tav
Warnings: Nondescript sickness, No pronouns or description used for Reader/Tav
Masterlist
It started off with just a fuzziness in your head. Like cotton fluff that you couldn't shake. Nothing that would stop you. Nothing that you couldn't push through.
Your companions needed you.
Then it started with your body aching. Your muscles feeling as if they were being strained beyond their limits, protesting every step and movement. But it was fine. Nothing you haven't dealt with before.
You had to keep going.
But then came the fever. The fever that made your eyes water and made it hard to concentrate. You were thankful when you all made camp for the night then. Thankful for your bedroll and your tent that you set up just a tad farther than you usually did from the warm fire and your companions. You didn't even realize you were shivering when you finally laid down; your body heavy, your head pounding, your eyes unable to focus.
You would be fine in the morning.
Halsin knew something was wrong even if the others could not see it. He could see the way your shoulders slump forward and your feet dragged. The way your brow furrowed when you had to force yourself to focus on someone when they talked. The way you call but collapsed into your tent at the end of the night.
He worried for you.
He made his way to your tent, calling our your name softly into the night air before quietly pushing the flap of the tent away to reveal your sleeping form. You were sprawled on your bedroll, breath ragged and sweat beading down your face while you shivered despite the warm night air.
It made his heart ache.
Made his heart ache that you felt the need to handle this alone like a wounded animal separating itself from its herd instead of leaning on your companions and friends for help. But he would not dwell on that now. Now you needed to be tended to.
He knelt beside you, gently rolling you onto your back — which elicited a soft whine from you and damn near broke his beating heart.
"It is alright. I am here." He laid his large, warm hand on your forehead and frowned. You were burning up, the fever raging. His face softened at the weak sigh that escaped you at the feeling of his hand upon you. It must be such a little comfort to you.
He muttered soft elvish to you — comforting words that he could remember his mother whispering to him when he was racked with illness — as his hand started to glow. His druidic magic would not cure you, the illness would need to pass through you in good time, but it would take away the worse of it. It would ease your suffering and allow you a gentle and restful sleep.
And it worked.
He watched as the shivering subsided, your breathing evened out and became deeper, and the beading sweat slowly stopped. A small smile graced his face as he took a small wash cloth, wiping your face before he sat back. He would take a vigil over you while you slept tonight. He would not let you face this alone.
So much potential with praise kink Halsin. Like even long before you guys become a thing, maybe that's how his feelings really kick off. You just give him genuine compliments from time to time. Sometimes they have to do with his appearance, sure. But it's the ones where you remark on his traits or something he does well that cause his brain to 404
And goodness it gets even worse after y'all DO get together. You caress his face, coo at him, tell him what a good boy he is for you
Gods yes.
He heals a wound near-absentmindedly as he’s chatting about what silly thing Scratch did in camp while you were dealing with the crèche. It heals over faster and without a hint of scarring, unlike a similar wound Shadowheart took her time fixing. You compliment him on it, thinking nothing of the compliment itself but rather how different the healers are. He pauses before thanking you while brushing it off. It’s what he’s here for anyway.
You get poisoned in the Underdark and hurriedly brought back to camp. Before Shadowheart can even get to you to work her magic, Halsin is bringing over an antidote for exactly that from a batch which he just finished making that day. You notice all the drying herbs he’s had in his tent now include things from the Underdark and the variety of new mushrooms. You compliment his preparedness and ability to heal even without magic. No one’s complimented his natural healing knowledge over magic before and it leaves him a little speechless. Perhaps you’re a little woozy from the poison still…
But even in the Shadow Cursed Lands, your compliments keep coming. You admire his dedication to his childhood friend, the work he put into researching the curse, the faith and loyalty in Silvanus to poke a hole in the darkness, his ability to know what was wrong with Thaniel, and even how he spoke to Oliver. You swear the darkness is playing tricks on your eyes when it almost looks like the man has started blushing during conversations.
You half hope it’s real, even in such poor lighting he looks so cute like that.
And then he confesses as the party nears the city. It is your turn to hear back everything you’ve done for him. “It was nothing.” “No, it was everything.” You have the wild, heated night together. And you wonder…
You praise his whittling and compliment his eyes, and you were right: he does look cute with that tinge of pink spreading across his cheeks and out to the pointed tips of his ears.
You ask him little favors for camp, for you, for strangers, and even sneak in some for himself. He can barely manage a response anymore when you tell him he did well. He almost seems to expect it now, seeking it out.
“Good boy,” purrs off your tongue one night as he kneels, no clothing to hide how much it affects him. By the end of the night, you make sure he believes it, too.
Sam Haft confirming that Alastor just genuinely sees strength as not needing anyone and not being needed by anyone is so interesting.
Becasue I already knew Alastor genuinely saw needing others as an inherent weakness; everything he said to Vox about that was genuinely his opinion, not just something to get under Vox's skin. And it's the main reason they would never have been compatible as partners, because Alastor doesn't do partners.
But the second part of also "not being needed by anyone" defintely puts an interesting spin on a lot of his relationships, particularly with Mimzy. Because the implication there is that he has never kept her around because he likes feeling needed; in fact, he's probably continued their relationship despite her constantly asking him for favors because he genuinely found her fun and entertaining to be around.
It's also a good window into why Niffty and Alastor get along so well; Niffty is very attached to Alastor, but she doesn't need him in any sense he would consider consequential. She's very capable of handling herself. The only time we've ever seen him help her directly was apparently fishing her out of a toilet and if he put up with all of Mimzy's bullshit, that's a VERY small price to pay for the bond they share.
I also think this is why Alastor and Vox initially worked so well—Alastor was under the impression that Vox was like-minded in his view of strength. And they genuinely enjoyed each other's company. But once Vox made it clear that he wanted something more than that, Alastor was caught off-guard and got very nasty about it like he always does when he feels out of control of the situation.
I have seen people do some really good analysis on Alastor having poor boundaries and difficulty saying no. It is part of what leads him to be so harsh when he does manage to reject someone. I think this ties into why he might see people needing him as a weakness. If a person depends on him, it creates a sense of responsibility that he risks being bound by. This turns them into a potential weakness both through exploitation by others (Alastor stopping the fight when Niffty is in danger) or direct exploitation (Mimzy using him to clean up her problems). However, once he gets attached, he can't help but let them depend on him. This makes people needing him actually a worse weakness than needing others. He can control to the best of his abilities, needing others, he can't control people needing him. He can only try to discourage it.
Halsin x Snuggly! Reader. A reader who doesn't mind cozying up to Halsin in public or in private. Holding his hand, loosely linking or hugging his arm, etc. A reader who just so long as they are at his side, hand-in-hand or in his arms, is happy. (Especially when its bedtime and theh get to sprawl out over him.)
INTERTWINED, SEWN TOGETHER
╰┈➤ halsin x gn! snuggly! reader
warnings: fluff, non-sexual intimacy, lots of bear hugging, hater astarion
A/N: title is from not a lot, just forever by adrienne lanker.
halsin is the definition of a bear hugger. big, squeezing hugs that nearly cut off the air flow of their recipients. he never thought he'd meet his match- until he met you.
a constant seeker of physical affection, your crush on halsin only grew when he insisted on holding your hand and be touching you constantly. in fact, you did the same thing to him first, only encouraging him further.
it’s hard to pinpoint who fell first. halsin definitely fell harder- teased near relentlessly by karlach and gale until he confessed. astarion had turned up his nose at you and halsin's first shared kiss, calling it "far too chaste." he got smacked upside the head by shadowheart afterwards, and decided to keep his comments to himself from then on.
now, your companions would be hard pressed to not find you and halsin intertwined after a long day travelling. knees tucked under his, his large arm wrapped around your waist and hugging you until your chest to chest, you own arm mirroring his touch.
you and halsin bathe together, bare bodies caressing skin with soapy lather and cleaning each other's hair. you like taking your time with him as you clean, making sure his body is fresh and free of grime before you leave the river.
your companions like to tease, calling you clingy or touch-starved, but it truly is just the way you show affection. halsin never minds, though, and encourages the touch all the same.
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