Got Inspired So Enjoy Some Bloodweave!!!

Got inspired so enjoy some bloodweave!!! <333

“What are you reading?”

Astarion jumps a little at the suddenness of the question, he’d been reading, alone, for hours now and had assumed all of his companions to be asleep. It seems he had erred in his assumption, as Gale peers at him, squinting in the dark. Astarion sighs, burdened.

“What could you possibly need from me, wizard? Shouldn’t you be cuddled up, all snug in your bedroll?” Gale laughs a little, strained and careful, but continues his approach. Astarion rolls his eyes, snaps his book shut with a decisive whack, and sets it aside. 

“Couldn’t sleep. And I see you reading every night, it’s only natural that I’ve wondered what genre of tome could possibly enrapture you so, a man normally much too aloof for anything to grasp onto.”

His voice carries a kind of smug tilt to it, like he’s trying to tease but is too sincere of a man for it to come out as anything other than a collection of awkward observations. Astarion returns a more practiced smirk. 

“Mmm. I see.” The words rumble and slur together into something almost animalistic, Astarion’s not quite sure what overtakes him, in this moment, but there’s a kind of vulnerability to Gale. A soft belly upturned to the world, a rabbit twitching its nose but refusing to run. 

As a predator- a hunter, at times- Astarion is well practiced in spotting and pouncing on these vulnerabilities. He smiles toothily. 

“So you’ve been watching me?”

And Gale? Well, Gale laughs. Quiet, but boisterous and chortling. He shakes his head. 

“Did that really work on people?” He continues to laugh. Astarion draws his brows, puzzled. He hadn’t intentionally been trying to draw him in, but in hindsight that’s probably what it looked like. After years of honeypotting, his purr and growl are often one and the same. Astarion allows himself a small smile, but stows it as soon as Gale draws close enough to bathe in the candlelight.

Silence hangs for a moment.

“It’s a romance novel. Drivel, really, but I’m not one to be picky.”

Gale hums and inclines his head towards the book. “May I take a look?” Astarion nods and shuffles to the side, “Please, be my guest. Fair warning, though, it will rot your brains.” 

A laugh then, as Gale settles next to- but notably far enough to not touch- Astarion on the rug he’d pilfered from some poor sap’s home. It’s quiet, again, as the wizard flips his way through the pages of the book. It’s clear from the quick dart of his gaze that he’s not really reading it, just scanning the most interesting parts. Astarion waits quietly, a state quite unnatural to him but that feels right in the muted intimacy of the moment. He watches the way Gale’s eyes change as he reads, bright, always, but with intermittent flashes of surprise, and mirth. It’s not a bad look on him. Astarion refrains from mentioning that. 

“Well,” Gale sighs heartily and gently places the book back where it had been sitting, “that was quite possibly the worst thing I’ve ever read. I mean really, her ‘evil’ orc boyfriend who ‘changes’ for her and shuns his entire family for the sake of their union? And don’t get me started on the more intimate scenes, if I ever read the word “member” again I think I’ll-“

Astarion can’t help himself, he bursts into a tight, brief set of giggles before hunching over himself. By refusing to look up, he misses the pure glee and adoration in Gale’s expression. Astarion shakes his head.

“Gods, you’re right. It’s horrid, isn’t it?”

Gale nods, somber, “Detestable. Truly, you have found no other books to occupy yourself with? I would argue this,” he points at the book with an accusing finger, “does more harm than good. You’d be better off simply not reading.” 

Astarion shakes his head; something about the low candlelight, the relative isolation of his tent and the illusion of privacy it offers- it makes him want to be open, honest. To show his soft belly to someone who’s just trusted him with theirs. 

“I- well- I would normally throw this wretched thing in the river.” He waves a dismissive hand in the book’s general direction. “It’s just, well, before I never had much time to read frivolous things like this. What with all of the screaming and agonizing and seducing I needed to do.” Astarion laughs a small, humorless giggle at himself, “It’s nice just to be able to sit in the warmth of the sun- when it’s actually daylight of course- and read. Even if it is mindless drivel like this.”

Gale hums, more to himself than anything, but eventually his eyes catch on Astarion’s, something warm and mischievous glinting within. “Do you trust me?”

Now it’s Astarion’s turn to laugh. “About as far as I can throw you, wizard. Which is to say I would pass out before I did.” He gestures to the thin wiry ropes of muscle that wrap around his bicep. Gale gives him another soft laugh.

“That’s fair, I suppose. Will you do me a favor then, and come with me for a moment? Leave the book.” As he speaks, Gale rises from the rug, knees giving twin creaks as he straightens. He winces at himself and smiles something small and self-deprecating. 

Astarion, equal parts dubious and curious stands with him. “Well now I have to know. Lead on, wizard.”

“It’s Gale, you know.” Gale comments, as they begin walking back towards the circling of tents a bit closer to the campfire. Astarion huffs. “I know.”

He lets the silence settle, and sit for a bit. 

Gale chuckles and shakes his head, “Yeah I suppose I should have guessed that’s what you’d say.” 

It’s not long before they come upon Gale’s own tent and the wizard opens the flap, disappearing inside. Astarion waits near the entrance for a couple of minutes before Gale’s head- hair adorably unkempt and still squinting into the darkness- pops out to usher him in. “Thought you didn’t need an invitation to enter anymore? Or is the tadpole’s magic so limited?” 

Astarion rolls his eyes and smacks lightheartedly at his head as he ducks inside. “You’re such a little shit!” Said shit only grins and returns to… whatever the hell he’d been doing. 

The inside of his tent is almost impossibly spacious but Astarion guesses that has something to do with being a wizard. There are scrolls and ink pots just kind of lying around but the chaos is rather cozy. The largest thing in the tent, however, is the absolute leviathan of a bookcase off to the right, which Gale is now rummaging through, muttering to himself.

“Romance… Romance… Wait, does he even- ASTARION- oh you’re right here, perfect, do you even like romances? What’s your preferred genre?” There’s an urgency to his words and movements but it’s not frantic. Rather quite the opposite actually, he looks more at home here and now than Astarion thinks he’s ever seen him. 

“Oh- uh- well, darling, I’m not quite sure. It’s been a while. I do think I’ve always enjoyed romance when it’s- well- good.” Gale nods decisively and returns to his task, a man on a mission. Astarion tries not to notice how sweet he is, how sweet the whole situation is, really. He’s just appreciative of the arts, can’t go around letting people besmirch its name with nonsense like this stupid book or anything. 

“Aha! Here-“ Gale lifts a rather thick tome from the shelf, it’s got quite an ornate cover- a mix of dark blue with gold embossing- and he shakes it like he’s just found a particularly useful scroll, “it’s an enemies to lovers epic surrounding two clerics- one of shar and the other of selune- and their struggles with their respective faiths and the adventure they embark upon.” His smile is almost blinding in its intensity and Astarion finds he has to look away. Has to squash this warmth fluttering in his gut.

“Did you just read that from the summary?” He’d tried for a snarky sneer, but all that came out was genuine curiosity. How many times would one have to read something to be able to recite its summary from memory like that? Although, Gale’s always been quite bright. 

“Not at all. I’ve read this enough times I could probably recite the first chapter from memory!” Gale’s still smiling but there’s something strained and uncomfortable to it that makes Astarion unreasonably unhappy. He thinks for a moment.

“Would you? Darling, my eyes were just starting to hurt from the prattling prose of that hack of an author, they could use a bit of rest… Would you mind terribly getting me started?” His face had just seemed so puppy-like, so eager to share his interest in this piece of fiction that even the thought of implying that that was bad or annoying or at all anything but hopelessly charming was… well… unthinkable. As a reward for his kindness, Gale absolutely beams at him. 

“I would be honored, my friend! But first-“ With a snap of his fingers all of the candles snuff out, leaving the two of them in complete and utter darkness.

“Uh, Gale, dear, as much as I do enjoy good mood lighting I don’t think you’ll be able to actually read in-“ Before Astarion can finish speaking, a bright, almost blinding orb of light materializes in the palm of Gale’s hand. He gestures to his right and the orb moves itself into the corner of the tent. 

Blinking, Astarion notices the comfortable warmth seeping into his skin from the rays of light the orb is emitting. He grins over at Gale, who had already been looking at him, furrow of trepidation between his brows. 

“You mentioned you liked to read in sunlight, and, well, it’s not like either of us is going to sleep tonight, right?” His smile is more sheepish, this time.

Part of Astarion wants to cry, part of him wants to kiss Gale on his pretty mouth, part of him wants to destroy this tent and all of the books in it.

He decides to sit. Gale joins him after a moment. He reclines himself on the pillows that line the other man’s bedroll and then rolls himself into his lap. Gale simply huffs, mutters something about “Tara” and situates the book in his hand in such a way that allows for his other hand to card through Astarion’s hair. 

Astarion really does cry, now, but the tears are silent and Gale graciously pretends not to see them. 

“The moon cannot shine on it’s own. Each night the sun caresses its cheek, granting its light and we are able to watch this act of love from a distance…” 

They fall asleep, or rather, Gale does. In the midst of a sentence his daylight spell blinks out of existence and he kind of slumps in on himself, hands going lax. Astarion is only able to catch him and the book because of his almost impossible dexterity. 

Astarion huffs a ghost of a giggle at him, but carefully bookmarks the page, sets the book aside, and tucks the wizard in. He sleeps like a rock, it seems, because even with all of the jostling he remains steadfastly unconscious. 

After a moment of gazing and contemplating at Gale’s relaxed face, Astarion uses one of the many available inkwells and quills and scribbles out a short note.

Had a great time tonight, darling. Let’s do it again sometime, I’m aching to know if Shenra and Kaye actually kill each other.

<3

He doesn’t kiss Gale’s forehead as he leaves but the thought crosses his mind, and he regrets not doing it when he reaches his own tent.

Damned wizard. Damned Gale. 

More scribbles, this time karlachstarion? Astarlach? Whatever the hell they’re called?

It’s done. Finally, after what must have been years of excruciating waiting, Karlach’s heart is fixed. Or, rather, stabilized might be a better word for it.

After talking with Dammon in the druid grove and giving him their only piece of infernal iron- witnessing the sheer joy on Karlach’s face as she realized she was one step closer to touching someone again- Astarion knew he’d do practically anything to find another.

He’d scoured every crypt they’d crawled through, every traveler’s chest abandoned on the side of the road, hells, even some oblivious people’s pockets. Karlach had been searching too, of course, but nothing could compare to the sheer single-minded focus with which Astarion dedicated himself to the task.

Karlach had been kind to him, was the first to stand up for him when his true nature was revealed. She’s never looked at him strangely or doubted his intentions, even when she maybe should have.

The two of them have fallen into a sort of flirtatious tryst- a kind of relationship that Astarion is well acquainted with- but without any of the touching usually involved (a concept less familiar to him). He’s not quite sure how it all came to be as it is now; all he remembers is feeling safe and comfortable enough with her to drop his polite facade.

It was a clear summer’s night and Wyll had been exceptionally, annoyingly heroic that day. Astarion hadn’t eaten for a couple of days and- now spoiled, and fat with all of his current freedoms- found himself quite cross with no sufficient reason why. Still, the bastard he is, he’d called Wyll an ‘intolerable boy scout with raisins for brains’ at the fire that night.

God knows how he came up with that one, but Karlach had laughed something warm and hearty. Grin wide, eyes squinted in mirth. She shined in the firelight. She’d gone to clap Astarion on the shoulder in camaraderie but paused just before making contact, expression falling for a moment. Inexplicably, he’d needed her to be smiling again, so he’d cracked another wise one at Wyll’s expense- who took it with a smile and all the infuriating grace you’d expect- and turned easily to shuffle closer. Not touching, but close enough, he’d hoped, that his presence was clear, despite his cold, dead body.

He’d hated himself for it. For the soft weakness unfurling inside of him, growing larger with each passing day that he spent with these do-gooders. The abundance of food, the absence of his master and the sheer, intoxicating autonomy he’d found here was making him docile.

Still, when- after that night- Karlach had latched onto him, sidling up and walking beside him as they trekked through the trees (she’d shortened her usual lumbering steps), sitting beside him at the campfire, trading quips and jokes almost as if they were sparring. He’d let her. And he’d liked it.

It was freeing, in a way, to be able to just be with someone. When they physically couldn’t ask him for more. Maybe it makes him a bad person for finding comfort in the thing that’s tormented her for years, taken away her own autonomy. But he’s never claimed to be good.

He enjoyed the long nights they spent together, laying half a foot away from each other and staring up at the stars. Talking until the sun rose, or until Karlach fell (adorably) asleep. She snores. Loudly. And Astarion vehemently dislikes the fact that he finds it so damned endearing.

Still, centuries of having the idea that nothing is freely given pounded into his head have left a mark. And Astarion knows that the only currency that he has that’s worth anything in this kind of situation is his body, especially when Karlach hasn’t been able to touch anyone in years. He feels like he owes her this, after all of the kindnesses she’s afforded him, and who knows? He might even enjoy it. He could see himself enjoying it, if he did it right.

He searches so feverishly for two reasons. One, he hates being indebted to people, it makes something cold and wriggling appear in his stomach. Two, Karlach deserves to be free, and he knows that the smile she’ll be sporting when her engine is fully fixed will have been worth all of the painstaking searching and more.

Naturally, he’d found the metal. They’d gone to Dammon, once they found him in the shadowlands, and now here they are. And her smile is so much more than worth it.

Karlach is beaming over at him and he smiles back warm, but a little distant. The implications of this are just now starting to sink in; Karlach will want to get started soon, he’ll need to prepare himself. This needs to be perfect.

A low thrum of anxiety buzzes at the pit of his stomach for the entirety of the walk back to camp. Karlach is walking astride him, making wide sweeping gestures as she babbles on about all of the things she’s excited to do now, no longer over-careful of where her hands go. Catch a squirrel and pet it, give Wyll the noogie of a lifetime, have Shadowheart teach her to braid, kiss Astarion.

He smiles something a little more practiced, almost seductive at this and purrs a few words he could not be held at knifepoint to remember. His body feels miles away but the thought of kissing Karlach is vaguely compelling.

Something old and wretched within him surges forward and overtakes his body. Jerking his lips upward into a smirk, lidding his eyes invitingly. When they make it to camp, the thing that he is now grasps at Karlach’s arm and asks if she’d like to ‘go clean up’ in a voice almost more rumble than words. She agrees, staring at his hand on her arm, and, after collecting some soap and a change of clothes, she follows him to the stream.

It’s cute that she brought soap, as if they’re actually going to ‘clean up’. The naivety of her actions almost bring Astarion back into his body, but he focuses on the pit in his stomach and retreats. This needs to be perfect. And it can’t be perfect if Astarion is all needy and bitchy about being touched like that.

His body moves through the motions of undressing himself, a kind of rehearsed efficiency/allure to his movements. Karlach whistles lowly at the display, but once he turns towards the water, she’s already waist deep and gesturing for him to join her, soap bar in hand.

“Get over here, soldier! You’re covered in dirt.”

… Really? It’s the only thought he can muster at the moment. So she really thought they were just going to clean themselves up? Or perhaps she wants him to work for it a little more, that’s alright. He can earn it.

“Oh I know, absolutely filthy, aren’t I? You’ll make it better, won’t you?” His voice lilts as he wades into the water, muscles tensed, jaw tilted to it’s best angle in an attempt to seem as touchable as possible. If only she’d actually do it.

Karlach snorts and splashes him with water. He stares at her through the barrage and sticks his tongue out to catch some of the droplets that slide down his cheek. Come on.

“Get over here, you.” She sighs, as if she’s talking to a particularly unruly dog and not a vision of sex (Astarion would know, he’d used these same tactics on thousands of others before and they’d all fallen for it).

As he approaches- all swaying hips and cocked eyebrows- she sets the soap in her hand on a protruding rock to her left and places a gentle hand on either side of his face. Cupping him almost like you would a handful of water. He closes his eyes and tries to make it seem as if he’s aching to be kissed. A part of him is. But the pressure never comes.

And just like that, his consciousness crashes back into his body. He can feel the warmth of her hands against his skin, the lap of cool water on his bare hip. Astarion’s eyes flutter open, clearer than they’ve been in hours, and brimming with fear.

“There you are.” Karlach says, voice dipping with a mix of adoration and pity that settles and twists in Astarion’s chest. “Hello.” He chokes. Tries a smile but it feels crooked and wrong on his face.

“We don’t have to do this if it’s too much, ‘star.” He wants to cry a little bit, and sure enough, a tear escapes down his chin.

“I’m sorry.”

She shushes him easily, a little forceful. “Don’t be. Please. I want to touch you, but never like this.” She thumbs across Astarion’s cheek, drying his tears. She’s warm, Astarion notices, but not as searingly hot as she’d been before (although, in the metaphorical sense her hotness has remained the same).

“I’m sorry.” He can’t help but repeat himself, he feels like a broken record. He feels like he’s ruined her night, her big, triumphant moment with his… bullshit, for lack of a better term. She goes to reassure him again but he continues.

“Would you be alright just…. Holding me? Tonight? I’m frustrated with myself, too, but I want to celebrate with you.” He chances a glance upwards at her face, afraid of what he might find. His fear is irrational, of course, because her grin is blinding.

“I think I’d really love that, ‘star. Gods, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to just wrap you in my arms! And now I can!” Her giggle is abrupt, and infectious. The tension bleeds from Astarion’s shoulders and he finds himself overflowing with warmth and affection. Oh, who was he kidding, how could he ever hope to engineer perfect when the embodiment of the word is standing right in front of him.

They rinse off quickly- Karlach helps with his back and he with hers, there are no wandering hands, only reverent tenderness around old scars- and head back to Karlach’s tent. Astarion would have offered his own if only for the fact that he doesn’t think the two of them will fit, what with all of the stolen trinkets he’s crammed in there. What can he say, he’s gone a little wild now that he can actually own things.

It’s surprisingly easy to fall into bed with her, and only in the exceedingly literal sense. He gets in first, curls around himself, and her around him. She fits her knees behind Astarion’s own, and slings an arm around his middle. Her back faces the camp in a move that may or may not be intentional, but makes butterflies flit around Astarion’s gut all the same.

“This alright?” She asks, voice low. Astarion takes a moment to catalogue himself, similar to what he does after battle to find any injuries that may be hidden by adrenaline. He’s not sure why he does it, when he never has before in these kinds of situations, but he finds everything to be in working order. The thrum of anxiety in his gut is almost completely gone. He nods.

“More than, my dear. Thank you.”

“Always, ‘star. Always.”

Emergency Beacon 
- 
A lil thing put to First Love/Late Spring by Mitski for fun 
(Please do not tag as ship)

Here are some concepts of part of the bat family, there are some missing still but I’m working on them

Hey folks so im going to try nanowrimo for the first time this year and thus probably wont be posting a whole bunch on here but if u want to request bg3 (or other fandoms! Im in a lot of them and if i dont know it i just will leave it until i do or not do it altogether) oneshots/pairings/scenes in my askbox, i can use them for warmups or for a bit of a break if i ever get stuck on my novel writing :) thanks for all the love on my bg3 oneshots tho yall ROCK

Im back for a bit I'm getting writers block on my wrimo; have some really bad galehalstarion (?) bloodbearweave (?)

“Goodnight darling.” Astarion purrs, pressing a gentle kiss to Gale’s forehead as he pulls away for the night. Of course, he had been chivalrous enough to clean everything up, Gale included, but not chivalrous enough to stay the night, it seems.

For the past few nights he’s been making his rounds, first to Halsin, now, Gale. Gale suspects it has something to do with their most recent encounter with the drow woman with the vampire fetish where they had both refused to order him to do anything, and instead reinforced his personhood, which, evidently, he hadn’t been anticipating.

Leaving early also likely has something to do with the fact that no one else in camp has any idea that the three of them are in any way… involved. To be fair, they’ve each got quite a bit else going on, outside of petty camp matters. Wyll has his whole complicated thing with Mizora, Karlach’s got her engine to worry about, Shadowheart with her budding religious crisis and Lae’zel with her ongoing religious crisis, after what happened at the monastery.

Which, Gale had thought that would be all the more reason to not have to be as careful as they usually were- preoccupied minds are less perceptive and all- but evidently Astarion is not of the same mind.

He leaves with a roguish grin and cheeky fingers dragging across Gale’s ankle before the tent flap closes behind him. Gale has to take another moment to himself in order to prevent any further blood circulation to unwanted areas before he can fully process what has just happened.

Falling into bed with Astarion is nothing new, really. He, Astarion, and more recently, Halsin have been tangling in the sheets for a good while. Gale can say with certainty that he knows which spots to kiss around to make Astarion flush, to make Halsin groan in contentment, and that the other two know just as much about what makes him tick.

It’s just, usually, he gets a chance to reciprocate. To funnel the pleasure that has been given to him back into his partner(s), often in excess. He enjoys the feeling, having done something- or in this case, someone- so well and thoroughly that there is no room for discontent or unease. Astarion, especially, usually revels in it. Writhes and gasps, grinning still, as he takes what he is given. Halsin always enjoys a good show.

Today, though, the vampire had entered his tent with a mission. His movements were purposeful, his voice practiced and purring as he brought Gale to the edge and over time and time again. He was not to be contented until the wizard had spent himself thrice at least. And Gale is in no way ungrateful for this gift, in fact it’s the most well fucked he thinks he’s been in a good long while. It just hadn’t really seemed like it was Astarion, that he was fucking. Rather someone with his face, attempting to act out what he thought Gale’s greatest fantasies were, in order to elicit the best reaction. To be exactly what he thought Gale needed. When all Gale has ever really needed or wanted these past few weeks was to see his lover(s) happy and sated.

He was robbed of that tonight. And Astarion had seemed pleased with himself when he looked down upon Gale and saw the pleasure he had wrought, but he had also seemed a thousand miles away. Gale doesn’t like to speculate on what might have caused that, but the thought is as horrible and inevitable as the man who caused it. Cazador.

Even just an inkling that lying with him had been, in any way, close to what Astarion had experienced with his old, cruel master, was enough to make Gale sick to his stomach. He wonders if Halsin had had a similar experience. He resolves to talk to him tomorrow, without Astarion present, just in case his theory is correct, and they need to stage an intervention.

***

Halsin is expecting him, when he ducks through the flap of the other man’s tent early the next morning. The sun has not even risen yet, but Halsin is fiddling with a knife and a small piece of wood, a pensive tilt to his eyebrows as he works. He sets his tools aside as soon as Gale makes himself known and pats the ground beside him.

“Good morning, my heart. Please, have a seat.” Gale complies, dropping a fond peck to his temple as he does so. Halsin, in turn, wraps an oak-thick arm around his waist and pulls him into his side. Gale cannot help the startled chuckle that this elicits, and smacks his arm, halfheartedly.

“Good morning, love. Stop trying to be mushy I have serious business with you this morning!” At this, Halsin pauses his tender ministrations, then shakes his head.

“First Astarion, and now you. My heart, can we not have a moment solely for the sake of joy and pleasure?”

Gale perks up at the sound of their other lover’s name. “Astarion was here?” He asks, then, realizing that this is a stupid question, amends, “I mean, he did that thing where he came in and set himself to servicing you with a- frankly, quite intense- single-minded focus? Without allowing you breath or movement enough to reciprocate?” Halsin’s head jerks in his direction and Gale knows he’s hit the nail right on the head.

“Yes…” Halsin admits, “Although it was significantly more difficult to restrain me, I would surmise.” Gale allows a short chuckle at this, nodding. Halsin smiles indulgently down at him.

“He’s quite strong, when he is fed. And I am quite weak, after being fed upon.” Halsin seems to find this rather amusing but Gale’s stomach churns a little at the thought of their lover using his nature against them like that, in order to deprive himself of their love, yes, but also Halsin of his autonomy. They definitely need to have a chat.

“We should talk to him about this, right? I disliked not being able to reciprocate.” Gale asks, tentative. Halsin has always been the more level-headed of the three of them, almost to a fault. He allows much that Gale himself wouldn’t stand for. Thankfully he nods his agreement. They decide it best to attempt to corner him the next time Tav leaves them in camp together. It’s their best shot at being anywhere close to alone anytime soon, and he won’t be able to use adventuring as an excuse to not address the problem.

In the relatively short amount of time they’ve all spent in a relationship, that’s one thing Gale’s noticed. Astarion is especially flighty when it comes to talking about his thoughts and/or feelings. They have strategies for that, thankfully. It just takes a tactful hand.

***

It’s not too long after his and Halsin’s conversation that they have the opportunity to act upon their plan.  This was to be expected, of course, given that they- save Halsin- are not incredibly physically strong, and are, in fact, quite easy to hit and maim, if cornered. That, and Halsin is a walking signal of betrayal, if Tav had taken him to Moonrise with them, their cover would be immediately blown. Of course, Gale had accounted for all of this when he’d put forth the plan.

Karlach, Wyll, Shadowheart and Tav leave together, towards Moonrise. Lae’zel takes one look at the three of them, makes a face as if she’s just smelt something rotten, and fucks off to sharpen the stash of weapons Tav has been slowly but surely building next to her tent. Everything works out perfectly; with the rest of the camp gone, and Lae’zel otherwise occupied, Halsin and Gale make a beeline toward Astarion’s tent.

The vampire is flipping leisurely through a thick tome just in front of it, settled luxuriously on top of a mess of ornate pillows as he bathes in the sunlight. As they approach, he glances up, and pastes a devilish grin over whatever expression he had been sporting previously. Gale frowns.

“Good morning, my heart! How fortuitous that we are all, as you say, ‘off the hook’ for today.” Halsin decides to greet him first, crouching down and scooping him into his arms as he speaks. Gale reaches a hand to card through his hair.

“Yes, love, we thought it only natural to pay you a visit. We’d also like to talk to you about something, if that’s alright. Could we step into your tent?” Gale is usually the one to beat around the bush, to weave his words in such a complex and convoluted way so as to confuse and disorient everyone not intimately aware of the way he usually speaks. Something about this situation unsettles him, though, puts him on edge. He feels a compulsion to get this conversation over with as soon as possible.

Halsin does not pull away from Astarion for another few seconds but he nods when they do finally separate. There’s something iron and unreadable in Astarion’s expression.

“Of course, darlings. Please.” He steps into his tent and gestures for them to follow after him. It’s just as immaculately well-kept and organized as Gale remembers it being. Now that he thinks about it, though, it’s been a while since they’ve all been in his tent. Usually they gather in Halsin’s tent, with all of the warm pelts and useful oils he has stocked. Astarion has added quite a few new books to his collection- likely from all of the abandoned houses and towers they keep rummaging through- his shelves are beginning to rival gale’s own. Gale cannot help but grin as he casts a look around.

Astarion’s sharp voice snaps him from his reverie. “So? Out with it, you’re breaking up with me. The throuple stuff was fun while it lasted but you’ve found that it’s just so much better when it’s just the two of you, right?”

His words drip like venom from his lips, biting and cold in ways he hasn’t been with the two of them for quite some time. Gale finds himself wrong-footed for a minute or so, of all the things he’d been expecting walking into Astarion’s tent, that hadn’t been one of them. Still, he can’t say it’s unfounded, he probably should have been more careful with the way he worded his invitation to talk. Thinking back on it, it had kind of sounded like a preface to a breakup. He cringes at himself and looks to Halsin for support.

The other man seems similarly taken aback, but recovers himself more quickly than Gale can. He steps forward, hand outstretched to grasp at Astarion’s shoulder, but he jerks- flinches, really, and oh doesn’t that sting- away. Halsin slowly retracts his hand, expression attempting to hide how crestfallen he truly is and failing, quite miserably. He’s always been a rather straightforward fellow.

“Astarion,” His voice is low, soft, “of course not. We love you. We wanted to talk about the other night with us.” He gestures between the two of them, “And then the night you shared with Gale, recently.” Gale nods, finally finding his voice.

“Love, no. No, he’s right, we love you so much. I- we- were just worried about how… Distant you seemed the last few times we were intimate.” Gale steps forward but keeps his distance, hoping that his eyes can convey the swirl of love and concern he feels.

Astarion bristles and holds the tension within himself for a moment before crumbling. He sighs, shakes his head and sits heavily on the nest of pillows he’s built on the floor. Halsin and Gale give him a moment, hovering, until he waves his hand for them to sit. At the signal, they rush to his side and- with another slight hesitation before laying any hands on him- nestle themselves into all of his favorite spots.

This seems to make him feel marginally better- his head is still in his hands, but his shoulders relax slightly- and that knowledge alone is enough of a comfort to relax Gale’s own shoulders.

There are another few minutes of tense, suspended silence before Astarion decides to speak again, voice quieter and less stable than ever before.

“I’m sorry… I just-“ He laughs, a little, broken thing, “hells you probably already know- but I just… You were so kind to me, about me, with the drow. I wanted to thank you properly. I wanted to show you that treating me that way would be fruitful, so that you would keep doing it.” He cringes at himself, “Now that I’m saying it out loud, it sounds so manipulative. I’m sorry. I just- I wanted to make it worth it.”

Another near minute of silence. Halsin glances over Astarion’s head over at Gale who has furrowed his brows.

“My heart… We would have done that either way. Anyone here would have. We don’t have to be sleeping with you to care about you.” Astarion shakes his head at this.

“But I liked it! I think. I didn’t need to go away from myself like I did. It felt good, and I was having fun, and, more importantly, you were having fun-“ Gale scoffs and cuts him off.

“Not more importantly, love. Never ‘more importantly’. Come now. And I don’t think it matters if it felt good, if you were so focused on making it good for us. Making sure we enjoyed it so much that you couldn’t let yourself be in the moment.” It seems impossible, but Gale presses himself closer to his lover, skating a comforting hand under his shirt and up his chest.

“Is this okay?” Astarion nods. “Words, please, love.”

He chokes out a wet, “Yes, darling.”

“Good boy. Thank you.” A long shudder works its way through Astarion at the words, but Gale knew that would happen. He’s too keyed up right now, too stressed and worried; Gale couldn’t stand it. Halsin smiles and thumbs at the juncture between his neck and jaw. Astarion hums, content, and blinks sluggishly as he leans into their hands.

“I’m sorry.” He says again, more slurred, and sluggish this time.

Halsin hushes him, moving one of his hands to his lips to dip a gentle finger in and tug at one of his fangs. Astarion’s eyes flutter.

“And we’re sorry, my heart. We should have seen the signs of this much earlier than we did. Next time, let’s just talk to each other, hm?” Both Gale and Astarion hum affirmatives at this.

Gale has climbed more fully into Astarion’s lap, setting himself to work unbuttoning his shirt as Halsin continues to thumb at his sensitive fangs. The vampire pants and drools onto his collarbone, and Gale coos at him.

“Oh, sweetheart. Halsin, let up, would you? Look at him, already half-ruined just from that.” Halsin complies, but not before a final short tug on the fang and a kiss pressed to the area right underneath Astarion’s ear. “Gorgeous.”

He whispers, as he pulls away, eliciting another heavy shudder. Gale, finally having successfully removed Astarion’s shirt, hums to himself.

“Look at you. So beautiful, and to think, you tried to deprive us of this breathtaking sight.” The words are punctuated by a short press of the wizard’s fingernail into the soft flesh of his nipple. Astarion whines high in his throat. Halsin noses at his neck.

“I-ggh- I’m sorry.” He hiccups. Gale hushes him, hand trailing through the soft white hair on his navel. “Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. We can see you now. Isn’t that right?” Gale, himself, isn’t quite sure who he’s talking to, but both of his lovers nod fervently at the question.

“That’s right, baby. Can I get your pants? Or do you want them on this time?” This is something that happens sometimes, where Astarion will want to partake in sexual activities, without having to bare himself to them completely. Gale actually often prefers these times, because it means he gets to be creative with how he attempts to get him off. Also, being able to focus on the gorgeous look on his face as he comes… Nothing compares. Halsin, of course, prefers it all-natural, but is extremely accommodating when Astarion finds himself at a mental block. As long as his lovers are happy, he’s happy.

It seems today is one of those days, as Astarion slowly and hesitantly shakes his head, then opens his mouth around what Gale is almost certain is another apology.

“Hey.” He kisses him before he can get the chance, “That’s alright, that’s perfect. You’re perfect. You want my hand?” Astarion nods, closing his eyes and throwing his head back onto Halsin’s shoulder.

Halsin rumbles against his back and brings his own hands to his hips, guiding him in his grind against the firm pressure Gale is applying from above. Trapped from both sides, completely out of control and loving it, Astarion lets out a long and wrung out moan. Halsin grins against his neck.

“That’s it, little star. Let it wash over you. Feel our love.”

It’s coming in waves, little shocks of pleasure washing over and over themselves into a slowly building tide as he remembers that it’s Gale’s hand against him, and Halsin who is guiding his hips.

“I-hng- I love you. Ngh!” Astarion gasps, he needs them to know that he feels the same. Needs them to know he’s not just taking from them. Gale is smiling down at him, palm slowly circling the bulge in his trousers.

“We know, my love. Now, I remember how gorgeous you are when you come. Do you think you can show us, again?” It’s a question without a real answer, they all know that he can, and will. So help him, if Gale asked for the very sun in this moment, he would find a way to bottle it for him.

Astarion nods, frantic and eager to please, “I can, I can. Gale- Halsin-“ He pauses, brows knit together in concentration, evidently stuck at the crest of his orgasm. It takes Halsin mouthing against his ear and whispering, “Now, gorgeous boy.” To fully push him over.

He shakes through it, jerking in his lovers’ hold and shaking his head as wave after wave of pure ecstasy rolls through him. Gale does not stop moving his hand until he begins to shy away from overstimulation.

“Good boy.” He says, and pulls Astarion into a cuddle pile when he attempts to return the favor. “Not today, love. This was about you.”

Halsin rumbles his agreement, always slightly nonverbal after a good round in the sack, and wraps himself safely around the two of them. He presses a kiss to each of their heads before falling almost immediately asleep. He really is a bear that one; Gale can’t really blame him, though. It is getting rather cold and dark outside.

Gale makes a few gestures with his hand, imbuing magic into a few words so that Astarion’s pants dry and clean themselves. Astarion hums what sounds like a thank you against his neck and cuddles closer. Gale smiles to himself, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

That was quite a bit easier than he’d thought it’d be.

Huh.