A Pocket Full of Rainbows, A Star Up My Sleeve (1950s AU) / Chapter 1: The Drive In

Summary: It's 1957, and for the first time in his life, Astarion Ancunin is happy. He's a newlywed, his spouse, Gustav Adler, is the editor-in-chief of the city's second most prominent newspaper, and they play keeping up with the Atherwindes next door. They are picture-perfect domesticity. Or so it seems. Secrets Astarion has kept hidden from his spouse begin to surface around their first anniversary, and Gustav is left to wonder... who exactly did he marry?

Tags/Warnings: This one starts off with smut (light BDSM if you squint and tilt your head) in Chapter 1 so there's that. This longfic will have a lot of hurt/angst/comfort + mild gore + mentions of Astarion's past trauma. I will update with a warning if there is a significant concern in any chapter.

Notes: Special thanks to @leomonae for beta-reading and holding my hand while I write this entire thing that has taken hold of me body and soul. And special thanks to all the awesome supportive people on my discord server that have hyped me up enough to give me the courage to post this.

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Cigar smoke spirals out of the barely cracked mahogany door and into the newsroom as the editor-in-chief, Gustav Adler, finalizes the layout for this weekend’s edition of the Baldur’s Herald. He’s running late — he should have been halfway home, by now. His wife is going to be furious with him if they miss the beginning of the movie.

But this story has a chance of finally getting the Baldur’s Herald ahead of the Baldur’s Gate Gazette; he has to get it just right. There is still more investigation to be done, of course, but no one can deny several missing persons and multiple eyewitness reports of a mindflayer in the lower city. It’s certainly enough to sell papers and promote intrigue.

The paper had gotten a decent boost when he’d been promoted to editor-in-chief a few years ago. The promotion of an openly gay man – a half-drow, nonetheless – to the position had garnered quite a bit of attention. Good and bad, of course. But as the saying goes, all publicity is good publicity.

In the Herald’s case, that had been true. The groundbreaking move had put the previously small paper on the map and quickly catapulted it to second place in the rankings, where it had been ever since. Tav was convinced it would only take one powerful story to overtake the Gazette; he felt confident the culmination of this story would be the one to do it.

A rapid knock on the door pulls Gustav from his work as he takes another drag of his nearly finished cigar; his top investigator, Karlach, is leaning against the door jamb.

#astarion fanfic #1950s au #baldurs gate au #astarion au #astarion 1950s #wifestarion #house wife astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x male oc #astarion x male tav #astarion angst #astarion fanfiction #astarion modern au #astarion smut #bg3 smut #smut #male/male

littlejuicebox

Teaser for Chapter 9 of MWC posting tomorrow at noon. 🐍

SO EXCITED FOR YOU GUYS TO SEE IT.

littlejuicebox reblogged

wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

The Scent of Missing Buttons

Astarion centred || implied Astarion x gen!Tav || ao3 || Masterlist

Rating: M ; +18 Word Count: +2.9k Warnings: prostitution, sex work, sex trafficking, PTSD, suicidal thoughts, no graphic description of sex act

He thought about his old brass buttons as he let the couple have their way with him. His doublet had thirteen buttons, if he recalled correctly. Six he had found on the floor. There was no way of telling where the others were. They had probably rolled under the bed or were lost in the gaps between the splintered floorboards. He would dare another attempt at retrieving them when these brutes were finally done with him. Going back to the master without either of them was simply out of the question.

a/n: phew, that was hard to write. Don't forget to hug your vampire boyfriend today.

Neither the loud human nor the scrawny half-elf sitting on each side of Astarion cared about how witty or charming he was. All he had to do was sit still and smile while he endured the dirt-stained fingers messing up his carefully coiffed curls. The sweaty hand resting heavily upon his knee. The stench of days-old sweat radiating from their bodies.

Astarion gave the gawking half-elf a crooked smirk for no other reason than to loosen the building tension in his jaw.

His marks usually came to him, and that night had been no different.

littlejuicebox

Everything Emi writes is fantastic, but holy heck, this made me tear up more than once. I do not often do that when reading, but if anyone is going to tug at my heartstrings, it's this woman!

I loved every single thing about this, and I hope to see more of the angst from you, Emi! I'm going to be thinking about this for days.

#littlejuiceboxrecs #emi is amazing #astarion angst #read this if you want to cry

littlejuicebox

Midnight Chimes 4 / Ringleader

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader Warlock.

Word Count: 2,415

Summary/Setting: You and Astarion have met before, though you think it meant more to you than it did to him. You are an apothecary shop owner that has recently gained some mysterious Warlock powers; Astarion is, in your eyes, a rake that you wouldn’t trust as far as you can throw him. You two run into one another again after the nautiloid crash.

Preview:

It hadn’t really been you that found the three new party members, after all. It had been your patron. The blasted thing seemed to alternate between completely ignoring you and positively strong arming you into submission. And it seemed unfortunately hellbent on collecting every straggler along the way of this little adventure. Though you supposed the cleric, the githyanki, and the Blade would likely prove to be more useful additions than the pale elf sitting nearby. But how could you explain the connection to the celestial being to Gale or anyone else if you did not truly understand the connection yourself? How could you explain they were putting their trust in the wrong person for the job? Gods, you needed to get back to Baldur’s Gate and head to Sorcerous Sundries. Surely they would have some information about this unwilling bond. And speaking of unwilling bonds…

Warnings: eventual smut and gore 18+ / in game spoilers / angst, trauma, fluff

A/N: Finally feeling (almost) 100% back to my normal, healthy self! Thank you for the good vibes and well wishes! <3

littlejuicebox

Midwinter Carol 3 / The Carriage

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Elf Sorceress OC

Word Count: 2.9K

Story navigation: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Summary/Setting: Based on the prologue/premise from my OneShot "A Midwinter Carol."

Astarion and the OC broke up after his ascension. She left Baldur's Gate for fifteen years, only to return just recently. Following the events of "A Midwinter Carol," Ascended Astarion has been convinced to pursue a new beginning. Will he be able to change who he has become, with the help of his ex-lover? Or will he ultimately fall victim to his pride and desire for power?

Preview:

“Astarion… why did you reach out, after all this time?” She asks, dropping her gaze to her hands, which have been neatly folded in her lap. “What do you mean?” The Vampire Lord responds, feigning ignorance as he steals a moment to prepare himself for the conversation he knows they are about to have. He turns his head to stare out the window, hoping to give himself the illusion of further distance from Eirianwen. Her close proximity was unnerving. “You know what I mean, Astarion. I tried to contact you via the sending stones. For years. You never responded.” Her tone is tight as she tries to contain the indignation and hurt. Fifteen years apart, and the fact that he hadn’t communicated with her once, despite her efforts, still stung. It had been a gaping wound in her heart that had never fully healed. Eirianwen had asked to meet with the Ascendant at the Elfsong, a few weeks after their relationship ended. He had been under the impression it was to reconcile, and that she had changed her mind about his offer. Instead, she had given him the sending stone and expressed her desire to remain friends. The suggestion of being merely Eirianwen’s friend had nearly made Astarion retch on the spot.

Warnings: This will be 18+ / in game spoilers / OOC Ascended Astarion because it follows my epilogue / Eventual Smut and maybe Gore / Angst, trauma, fluff

A/N: IDK guys I'm on a role with the fics this weekend and obsessed with this concept so... here's another one! If you want to be added to the taglist for this series, please leave a comment clearly stating that so I can keep track!

littlejuicebox

Midnight Chimes 3 / Luck

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader Warlock.

Word Count: 1,910

Summary/Setting: You and Astarion have met before, though you think it meant more to you than it did to him. You are an apothecary shop owner that has recently gained some mysterious Warlock powers; Astarion is, in your eyes, a rake that you wouldn’t trust as far as you can throw him. You two run into one another again after the nautiloid crash.

Preview:

The vampire couldn’t remember anything about you, at first. It was as if the parasite had unlocked the recollection, delving into some subconscious vault of memories Astarion could not access himself. He hadn’t remembered you, prior to the parasite’s assistance, but had held onto pieces of information he'd learned from the conversation. The prickled texture of the grass underneath his palm distracts Astarion as he vaguely listens to his two human traveling companions discuss healing potions – you needed to find a cauldron and distillery set to start concocting things for the journey ahead. As his two campmates chat, Astarion has more flashes from the conversation he'd had with you in the Drunken Dragon. Everything about that night returns to him in a hazy film, almost like recalling bits of a dream.

Warnings: eventual smut and gore 18+ / in game spoilers / angst, trauma, fluff / GUYS THIS CHAPTER HAS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF ABUSE AND S-CIDE IDEATION DO NOT READ IF IT'S TRIGGERING TO YOU OR YOU ARE NOT IN THE RIGHT HEADSPACE

Notes: This chapter was hard for me to write; I teared up and had to take a break for a few days because I am quite sensitive. If you are sensitive like me, please proceed with caution.

littlejuicebox

Midwinter Carol 2 / The Barrier

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Elf Sorceress OC

Word Count: 2.9K

Story navigation: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Summary/Setting: Based on the prologue/premise from my OneShot "A Midwinter Carol."

Astarion and the OC broke up after his ascension. She left Baldur's Gate for fifteen years, only to return just recently. Following the events of "A Midwinter Carol," Ascended Astarion has been convinced to pursue a new beginning. Will he be able to change who he has become, with the help of his ex-lover? Or will he ultimately fall victim to his pride and desire for power?

Preview:

There are a few minutes of silence as the two elves walk side by side, Umber following the sorceress like a shadow. Years ago, the pair had been strolling hand in hand through the city, laughing together despite the imminent threats at nearly every corner.

Astarion would pickpocket a noble, she would admonish him. At night they would find themselves in an alley outside a tavern, where he always used the money he pickpocketed to buy his lover and other campmates all the alcohol they could consume. He would always press her against the wall and cage her with his arms as they kissed.

His thigh would sneak its way between her legs, causing the blush on her already alcohol-flushed cheeks to rise as his hands wandered shamelessly, desperate to brush against the curves of a body he’d already memorized. Every inch of her had been seared into his mind, just like every part of him had been etched into hers.

Now two ghosts stood in the place of those lovesick elves. Their relationship had been consumed by the burning flames of his desire for her, nothing left behind but charred ash after he’d scorched through the limits of her patience.

Warnings: This will be 18+ even though this first portion is PG / in game spoilers / OOC Ascended Astarion because it follows my epilogue / Eventual Smut and maybe Gore / Angst, trauma, fluff

littlejuicebox

Midnight Chimes 2 / Three years

Background: I plan for this to be a series based off the premise/epilogue from my piece "Midnight Chimes." I’ve changed the character from GN to F because… well, I’m F and I have an easier time writing from that angle. Additionally, I gave Tav a different name... I wanted to give her an identity of her own, I suppose. As a disclaimer, she is a Great Old One Warlock, and I am learning about this class as I go, so it may not exactly follow lore.

Summary: You and Astarion have met before, though you think it meant more to you than it did to him. You are an apothecary shop owner that has recently gained some mysterious Warlock powers; Astarion is, in your eyes, a rake that you wouldn’t trust as far as you can throw him. You two run into one another again after the nautiloid crash.

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader Warlock.

Word Count: 1,292

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He’s got a blade to your neck.

A blade. To your neck.

The bastard doesn’t recognize you at all, does he?

“And you! Keep your distance. No need for this to get messy.” The pale elf warns your companion, Gale, an amiable wizard you’d pulled out of a strange portal not more than a half hour ago.

“Couldn’t agree more. But if you use that knife, I will incinerate you.” Gale responds, surprisingly calm for the situation at hand. Perhaps there’s more to the wizard than meets the eye; if you weren’t stuck with your jugular millimeters from a sharp dagger, you would’ve laughed.

Astarion is distracted by your companion, countering his warning with some asinine threat of his own.

Yes, you unfortunately know the elf's name. He’d frequented your parents’ tavern for years when you worked there as a server in your twenties, and then you two had a pleasant conversation in that same tavern – what was it, three? – three years back. He’d meandered in after being banned for years, while you were on Midwinter holiday visiting your family.

You’d thought it had been a meet-cute, but the rake never did write to your apothecary shop address, in the end. He’d had you fooled, for a moment, but your initial impressions had been correct. It was probably nothing to him. You ultimately figured Astarion had been a rake through and through, and you hadn’t been an easy lay, so he’d dismissed you and decimated your pride in the process.

Bastard.

You supposed the chance encounter had meant more to you than it had him, though you wouldn’t dare to admit you waited for a letter for far too long. Months of checking the post with a glimmer of hope in your lonely heart… how pitiful, honestly.

You feel your patron laugh in amusement… if the celestial being can laugh, or perhaps that’s just the way they translate it to you. They must think this run-in is entertaining… for all you know, they orchestrated it. Hadn’t they been the reason you felt pushed to leave your apothecary shop in the hands of your assistant and travel to Baldur’s Gate, intending to visit your parents on a whim?

You’d never done an impromptu trip to Baldur's Gate in the all the years you’d been gone. But then you bought that blasted ring with the strange cosmic stone at the antique shop, slipped it on your pinky, and suddenly your mind was not your own. Deep in the recesses of your psyche, something else lurked. Something ancient and unfathomable… you didn’t even know if the thing had a name. And every once in a while, it would compel you to perform an action with nearly obsessive thoughts and visions.

Nothing would stop the psychic barrage apart from acting in the being's interest, not even removing the ring because... well, you couldn't. It was stuck on your pinky. And you weren’t about to maim yourself by chopping off your own finger.

Then, almost unbelievably, you had been kidnapped, infected with a parasite and placed in the path of the insufferable rake, yet again. And now this arrogant elf has a blade pressed to your “darling” neck.

The beautiful bastard even has the gall to wear a knock off of the cologne sample that had been attached to your business card all those years ago. Bergamot, rosemary… and is that brandy?

You had to admit it was a close duplication, but not quite as good as yours. You laugh at the ludicrousness of it all, and the elf’s attention jerks back to you. You must be crazy to be laughing in the face of such a threat… but perhaps you are crazy, after all.

“Don’t recognize me, Astarion? Can’t say I’m surprised.”

littlejuicebox

Dancing on my own

Guys I don’t know what this is, it’s just some random angsty drabble that came out inspired by the song “Dancing on My Own” by Robyn (the version by Calum Scott is also nice).

I’m trying to get out of a writing slump so there might be a few more random bits of writing here and there. I’m not sure I even like this tbh lol.

Summary: You and Astarion decided to be just friends after his Moonrise Towers confession. He couldn’t make himself admit to you that he wanted more than that. He knew you deserved better than what he could offer. Now that his quest with Cazador is done, he’s totally lost. He wants you, but you have someone else now; he thinks it’s someone better than him. He’s heartbroken.

Tags/Warnings: PG13, lots of angst, depression, PTSD, low self esteem, depersonalization/derealization, sad Astarion, tbh it’s kinda just a sad bit of drabble

Astarion killed Cazador. You’d think he would’ve been happy… ecstatic, even. But instead he felt exceedingly numb and so, so tired.

It had been nearly a week since then. Astarion had spent most of that time in his room, trancing or simply just lying in the dark. He was exhausted; his limbs felt like lead.

Shadowheart was concerned he had fallen ill and kept checking on him. He would simply grunt to her in response or ignore her line of questioning until she sighed and left.

You came by a few times a day to offer him your wrist; he would drink with a misty-eyed, faraway expression… or sometimes not at all. His hand would linger for a moment on yours, and then he would roll himself the other direction, turning away from you.

It was hard to look at you, to be that close to you, to touch you, to taste you. Blood and sex had been so intertwined in the beginning, it always brought back the memories from before. It made him sick to his stomach.

But his hunger often won, in the end.

How ironic, that the only blood which satisfies his near-insatiable thirst is also the only blood that makes his stomach churn with guilt and disgust at himself.

A double edged sword. Stabbed through his heart.

#astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #bg3 fanfiction #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfic idea #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x you #astarion x gn!tav #astarion angst #light angst #angsty

littlejuicebox

I want to hold your hand.

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character/Ranger AKA AstarionxWren

Chapter number: Ten

Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / All fluff no smut in this one / Act 1 Spoilers / Angst / Anxiety / Feelings Realization / Violence / Gore / Past trauma / Alcohol / Swear words / Lae'zel being a butthole again (I promise I actually really love her character but, come on, the behavior in this chapter pretty in character for her.) Word count: 2.8K Masterlist: Click here. Song inspiration: "I Want to Hold Your Hand" - The Beatles (But really, more so the version in Across the Universe because the yearning is palpable in that version.) Notes: LMK if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this series in a message. :)

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Astarion took a long time gathering enough gumption to finally exit the Druid’s bedchambers. By the time he made his way toward the center of the grove, all the stars were gleaming in the sky, and more than one campfire had been lit. It appeared everyone already ate dinner, made evident by the empty tables full of used crockery and roasts picked nearly to the bone. He heard faint notes of music and an increasing amount of chatter as he made his way up the stone steps to the camp… it sounded like a party.

His other traveling companions were already there, and their tents had all been pitched. He spied Karlach kindly putting his tent up, and Astarion walked over to help her finish the job. Typically, he would've just left the tiefling to the grunt work and walked off to flirt with Wren or merely lounge about, but since Wren had stormed away from him earlier in the evening after their little tiff… he had nothing better to do.