Gay BG3 One-Shots

Monster

Astarion × Durge male reader

(This is gonna be a rough one. Basically, Durge has only successfully resisted a handful of urges in this. He was pure enough to convince Astarion not to ascend only to have himself be consumed by Bhaal. Durge is also... slightly yandere? In a way, this is just meant to be Astarion getting a taste of what his ascended self is like.)
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(Y/n) reveled in this beautiful carnage, drenched in Orin's pathetic blood. Vengeance was his... and he was Bhaal's favorite; his chosen.

Perfection.

A (e/c) gaze turned to Astarion, the meek vampire whom his vile heart had fallen for so hopelessly.

He could see the truth now, unblinded under the candlelight of Bhaal's temple... they were not equals.

(Y/n) wanted him all the same.

"Come, we have an elder brain to take charge of."

His smile could only be described as charming when he held his hand out for the pale elf. Astarion looked uncertain; nervous... he hesitated.

(Y/n)'s smile waned.

"Is this not what you wanted? Power. It's mine, now."

The (race) tilted his head ever so slightly.

"It could be yours, too."

Oh, and the pure dread that filled his precious vampire's eyes. He could practically taste the realization, the fear.

"What happened to you..."

The words were whispered and airy; less of a question and more of wavering disbelief. Afterall, who else knew the (race) best but him?

Who had shown such kindness; had expressed his desire for a cure to the urges? Who had handed Astarion the reigns to his own life once again? Who was it that taught him to see beauty in a world that never seemed to cared for him?...

Not the man stood before him. He knew that for damn sure.

Astarion backed away, searching desperately for the man he knew; for the comfort of familiarity somewhere in those (e/c) eyes...

Alas, he found none.

"I'm offering you the world, my love. All of it. Just say the word and it's yours... but only if you stand beside me."

That honeyed tone; the twitch of his lips... lies. Manipulation.

Astarion knew the taste all too well.

It almost felt like he'd taken (Y/n)'s soul for himself, stealing all the things he had loved about the other... and leaving the (race) with everything Astarion had hated about himself.

He couldn't help but wonder if this was his fault.

The pale elf shook his head. Whatever the case may be, he wouldn't let himself become a slave again. Never again.

"No?..."

The silence throughout Bhaal's temple was deafening.

Then (Y/n) was laughing, his deranged (voice type) cackle reverberating off of the stone walls.

"Oh, pet... how sorry for you. Have you truly changed so much in such little time?"

The (race) placed a hand over his eyes as a few more peals of laughter rang out from his chest and into the temple.

"Ha, who am I kidding?"

He dragged his hand down, smearing Orin's blood over the (soft/rough) (skin/scales) of his nose and cheeks.

"I made you soft, didn't I?"

The more he talked, the less he sounded like (Y/n); like the first person to ever express the importance of Astarion's bodily autonomy.

Astarion couldn't help but mourn... he had asked the other; told him, hadn't he? "Don't become his..."

... Maybe he should've begged. Would that have been enough to save his one and only?

"Well, I suppose it's no matter. I wouldn't be allowed to share this power with you anyway. We should probably get going, though. Who knows what will happen if father gets impatient with me, hm?"

The vampire flinched when (Y/n) grabbed his wrist.

"Unhand me!"

Astarion dug his heels into the ground in a frantic attempt to break free. The (taller/shorter) didn't even flinch, effortlessly dragging the pale elf behind him.

Even when the other leaned all of his weight backwards, clawing at (Y/n)'s unrelenting grip, their pace didn't even faulter.

"Hey, hold on just a minute!"

(Y/n) paused, sending a subtle glare over his shoulder. His other companions... he hadn't spared them so much as a second thought.

"It seems to me like fangs over there doesn't want to accompany you."

Karlach's arms were crossed, her glare scorching as she stood up for (Y/n)'s partner.

The air was becoming too thick and tense... Astarion just wanted it to stop.

"And just what are you going to do about that, Karlach?"

No words were said as she took her axe into her hands.

"I see. And the rest of you?"

Wyll and Gale stood proudly at Karlach's side.

Lae'zel and Shadowheart glanced between the two, but it only took a moment for them to shake hands and join the barbarian.

"What a pity... I was thinking of saving you all until the very end. You each have been very helpful in returning me home, afterall."

With a sigh, (Y/n) pushed Astarion so he was sitting painfully on the hard stone floor.

"Don't move from this spot. You won't like what happens if you do."

The look in his eyes was not to be argued with.

Astarion felt helpless as he watched (Y/n) transform. He had seen (Y/n) in battle... they all had. Their chances of defeating the Bhaalspawn were lower than all nine hells combined.

He couldn't bear watching the bloodshed to come... so Astarion closed his eyes and covered his ears.

Karlach began to scream.

It's not my fault. It's not my fault.

No... it was their collective faults.

As his companions, his friends and allies, they should've been able to help him; to guide him better.

He lost the battle with Bhaal because they didn't give him the strength to properly fight back. They weren't there for him the way he needed them to be...

He was gone because they all failed him.

Astarion curled in on himself when warm, bloody hands placed themselves on his pretty pale cheeks. A pair of slick thumbs swept up to stroke under his eyes, mapping out the very structure of his face and leaving trails of blood in their wake.

"Come, love. Destiny awaits."

Astarion did not fight, but he didn't comply either. He simply went limp and (Y/n) gathered him into his bloodsoaked embrace.

Like it or not, (Y/n) loved him.

There would be no hope of escape so long as the (race) desired to keep him.