#astation x tav

[cosmic-nebula356]

Bask in the moonlight🌙

[egginround]

A Nice, Simple Plan

Astarion has a plan to woo Tav. A nice, simple plan that backfires. [or perhaps, he never needed one anyway]

Astarion x Stoic!Tav (she/her) - 3.5k - No CW - Fluff + Astarion learns the power of apology lol - Part of the Elfsong Tavern's 2024 Valentine Exchange for the lovely @leftoverdinosaurbones :)

A wisp of hair curled around her ear. A flex in her fingers as she massaged her knuckles. A near imperceptible twitch in her wrist.

From his tent, Astarion was watching Tav as she sat by the campfire. A book laid open on his crossed legs, the pages smooth as he flicked through them absent-mindedly. The rise and fall of her shoulders, the strings fraying from the bottom of her shirt. Tav was listening in on a story by the famed Blade of Frontiers – one that their tiefling companion couldn’t seem to get enough of. Though the leader of their merry band, she remained quiet, opting to let the warlock do most of the talking.

Barely into his whirlwind of an adventure and peace continued to escape Astarion. Unpleasant wriggling at the back of his skull often kept him distracted at night – but not as much as the fear that dragged down his spine when he thought of Cazador. Astarion quelled his quickened breath. Now was not the time – it was imperative to lure Tav into keeping him by her side. As the unlikely prism-bearer, Tav’s fate was bound to his whether he liked it or not. The fire flickered as she stretched out the day’s toil from her body.

The vampire’s scarlet eyes darted between the members of camp. The wizard was rummaging through his own tent, no doubt finding some cure to his woefully expensive condition, as the Githyanki warrior sharpened her steel nearby. The incessant scraping nearly did Astarion’s head in. Turning back to his target, he caught scrapes of the daring heroism recounted over the fire. Tav’s relaxed demeanour and silence may have made her seem disinterested, but there was a quiet sparkle in her eyes. She must have been engrossed. Maybe self-important tall tales were the key to gaining her trust, he mused.

It was critical that he would be the one to capture her, Astarion reminded himself, and he was willing to do all it took to do so. It would be easy – a mark like any another. He saw the way that Tav lingered around him, the stares she thought he doesn’t notice. Astarion knew it all. He would have her in the palm of his hand and in his bed before long. A strange tightness coiled in him, but he gave it no mind. It didn’t matter – he shook the thoughts away before they had the chance to form. What mattered right now was his revenge and his long-deserved freedom. He refocused his gaze.

The stretch of her shirt across the back of her nape. The glow of the fire on the side of her face, the curve of her cheek, the small quirk in her smile whenever her eyes drifted over to him.

Upon his lap, his book remained unturned.

It had been a draining day. The sun beat down on their backs as they explored the areas west of the Emerald Grove. If there was a single more complaint from Lae’zel about a crèche, Astarion might seriously burst into flames – tadpole included.

To make matters worse, the dusty road they followed was littered with fresh and foul corpses up ahead – and not even of the human variety! The stench of hyena blood hung heavy in the air as the sun seemed intent on intensifying it. Astarion lamented his luck.

“Chk, another distraction in the search for a crèche,” Lae’zel spat out. If she hadn’t mentioned the same thing several times before, Astarion might have been more inclined to listen.

Instead, he lagged back behind the Githyanki, falling into the same pace as their sorcerer leader. If Tav noticed anything, she certainly didn’t say it. Then again, it seemed rare of her to say more than needed. In that respect, she and Lae’zel were strikingly alike.

“It’s a rather sunny day, darling,” he drawled, turning to her. “One spent far better on a sandy beach than on a dry mountain road, no?”

A non-committal hum.

“Ah, well,” Astarion endeavoured, jaw ever so slightly clenched. “Maybe our dear Tav prefers something a bit darker.”

He dragged down his voice to a low whisper for only Tav to hear. “A night under a canopy of stars perhaps? The luxury of a stolen evening away, sharing secrets in the shadows - maybe even a sin or two…”

That seemed to have grabbed her attention. Astarion looked at her through his eyelashes – oh so close to chipping at this near impossible facade when -

“Hold up, soldiers!”

Karlach shouted out, rushing to drag Tav to the forefront of their group. “Something gave these lot a right beating. Something not entirely, hm, natural. Let’s smash it!”

The tiefling’s words begged yet another incoming fight, and Astarion felt the internal sigh building up in him finally give way. A sick cracking of bones rung through the air, and a hells-damned gnoll decided to pop out to ruin his day even more. At least he was able to take out his frustrations in battle.

Crouching to the side, Astarion readied his daggers as he blended into the shadows. Both Lae’zel and Karlach sprung to the front, as they were oft to do, whilst Tav summoned the sorcery that swelled through her blood. The air snapped and crackled, and wisps of her hair warped in the winds that swirled around her. It was strangely captivating. Astarion inched forward to find the perfect opportunity to strike when suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

He smelled the fresh gnoll behind him before he could see it.

Astarion whipped his head around. Its rancid breath hit him like a ton of bricks, knocking out whatever thought he had in his mind. He barely had a second to raise his blades in self-defence when a bolt of lightning shot straight out – hitting the gnoll squarely in the back of its head. The splatter of blood on his cheek was all Astarion could register as the dead body thumped onto the ground, its singed flesh sizzling. He panted as he tried to regain his surroundings. A ringing in his ears. A shaky breath. A small quirk in that damned smile of hers.

Astarion tore through the rest of the pack.

It was pretty much a unanimous decision to camp for the night after their encounter. Though lovers of all things violent and bloody, even these adventurers had to take a break. This particular night found most of them taking time in their own tents. Astarion was no exception.

Nearly a few weeks now, and the snail’s pace of progress with Tav had him nearly tearing his hair out in frustration. It was never often that he had to wait more than a few days to lure someone back for Cazador. And even if it was, he was more likely to find a different victim instead. He took a breath and tried to stop his pacing across the front of his tent. Anymore, and Shadowheart might pick up on his worry – or even worse, share it with Gale.

A frown pulled his eyebrows together. It wasn’t that she didn’t find him attractive … right? Surely not.

An odd feeling burrowed into his mind, uncomfortable and slimy. No, Astarion knew his arsenal of weapons extended past his dexterity with blades and lock picks to his looks, his charm, his way with words. He just had to be patient, that’s all.

He dug around for his sewing kit. It couldn’t hurt to patch up every now and then.

“Looking for something?”

He mentally cursed. Of all the times for Tav to catch him, it just had to be now. Astarion was getting rather fed up with being caught off guard. Regardless, he cleared his throat, ready to entice their favourite sorcerer once more.

“Not now that you’re here, darling.”

She snorted loudly at this. Astarion paused for a moment, taken aback before noticing the wine sloshing around in the goblet she held. Ah, the explanation for her more relaxed demeanour.

Tav took a seat on one of the cushions outside his tent, nursing her glass a little more. The hair she usually had swept up had lost its hold throughout the day. Astarion poured himself a glass from the many stolen bottles of wine they horded before sitting nearby. He settled himself into a more comfortable position, as Tav watched a stray comet streak across the sky. Thoughts in his mind raced as he tried to come up with what to say, but the day’s exhaustion seemed intent to keeping them in disarray.

“Fields,” Tav finally said, out of the blue.

“Um, usually a ‘hello’ or ‘how are you?’ starts a conversation, my dear,” he huffed back. He’s all for a bit of mystery, but Tav often took rather too much liberty. Said cryptic turned to him, eyes peeking over her cup.

“I prefer a grassy field than a beach on a sunny day. Too much sand in the wrong places, harder to remove than blades of grass.” She fiddled with the frays on her blouse.

“Ah,” momentarily stunned, Astarion processed her sudden chattiness before replying. “A sage choice. The quiet of a forest is hard to resist.”

“Mm.”

They fell back into a weird silence.

“What -” Tav cleared her throat. “What do you like?”

She pointedly looked away, her glass now permanently attached to her lip, hiding her face from his discerning eyes. Astarion felt almost tempted to laugh, but the weariness of the day – not to mention the frustrations of their whole predicament – had him feeling strangely raw.

“I like the city,” he opted to reply. “Cesspool of a place, Baldur’s Gate, but it’s one I’ve known my whole life. The way the sun sparkles on the water by the port – it’s a sight that I, um, missed.”

“Hm, I can understand that.”

Tav rocked the dark red wine back and forth in her cup. Above them, stars twinkled through the clouds. A beat passed before Tav stood up abruptly, nearly knocking Astarion back in her haste, as she began to leave. Before she went, she stiffly called out to him.

“We’ll get there. I promise.”

And with that, Tav strode off. His eyes lingered on the covers of her tent flapping shut before he settled into his own. There was a new lightness to his shoulders that soothed itself into his weary bones.

A weird tenseness hung between the two of them after that, one that had him feeling stripped raw. Astarion discovered a strange prickling of his skin whenever he was around her, but a gnawing at his bones when he was not. Distancing himself from her (a tactical retreat, of course), Astarion tried to ponder on these feelings from afar. In battle, he made sure to snipe any long-ranged archers that could interrupt Tav’s spellcasting. During travel, any pickpocket that got close to her was met with a warning glint of a danger and a sudden disappearance of coin. For every step he took away, Tav took one closer. It was now common for her to seek him out at night for a chat about their pasts, or to simply watch the sky above. Whatever felt constantly lodged in his throat seemed to give way during these moments, only to return the morning next. The plan Astarion had felt completely derailed.

It must have been Tav’s weird behaviour throwing him off his balance, he finally concluded. Whenever they spoke, there was always that rocky feeling in him, as if the wind had picked up all his breath in a gust and left him in its wake when she went. Whatever it was, it was time to push it out his mind. He needed to focus on securing Tav’s favour - no matter how foreign the idea now tasted on his tongue.

Astarion abhorred the goblin camp. Inane bickering, mud everywhere, and the stench of worg dung, unwashed goblins and Hells know what else heavy in the air – distaste was rolling off Astarion in waves. The only saving grace this infernal place had was that he had the chance to destroy it all during their rescue mission of the archdruid Halsin.

Halsin. Tall, bulky elf with a deep voice and apparently enough peace and love to fill the whole bloody universe. Said druid now stood by Tav, thanking her profusely for his rescue, whilst Astarion was still wiping goblin guts off his knives. Whilst he did take glee in slashing and carving his way out of the goblin settlement, the exhaustion and lack of blood to feed on was starting to take its toll. If that wasn’t bad enough, the rescue mission ended up useless as they were still no closer to controlling the tadpoles in their minds.

“Really darlings,” his voice dripping with irritation as everyone gathered themselves after the gruelling fight, “next time, let’s not go galivanting through the entirety of Faerûn, saving whichever poor fool so much as bats their eyelashes at us.”

The irony was not lost on Tav.

Astarion dragged himself through the rest of the deserted camp, looking for valuables to plunder before they left. A necklace, a ring or two. Out the corner of his eye, Shadowheart was busy casting healing spells on a particularly nasty gash left on Wyll. Tav herself stood by the warlock as her hand pressed tight to a long wound winding down her arm. Astarion kept an eye out for healing potions as he dug through the rest of the chests.

He was in the middle of examining a silver pendant when he spied Halsin approach Tav. The druid’s hands glowed a soft warm light as he ran them over Tav’s wounded arm, standing surely too close than necessary. A slam rang through the courtyard when Astarion shut a chest a touch too hard.

“Can we get going?” he complained. Frustration was oozing out of him. His usually precise control over his words seemed to have evaporated over the course of battle. A sneer seemed permanently etched onto his face.

The only indicator of a response from Tav was a quick huff. If any words swelled on her tongue, she bit them down before Astarion could hear them. A bitterness was now seeping into him.

“Not longer now,” Wyll sighed out, relief colouring his voice at Shadowheart’s healing.

“Please, we’d be here all day if you all could help it,” Astarion bit back. “Probably saving a squirrel from a tree or some other inane charity.”

Tav gave him a warning glare, stoking the fires that had been simmering in him for far too long.

“The balance of nature requires constant vigilance,” Halsin replied smoothly, still way too near to Tav for any efficient healing he thought. “I hope that you all could come see what we do at the grove.”

Astarion huffed, “Like I’d ever want to see nonsense in such a waste of space.”

“Astarion!”

The look on Tav’s face was thunderous. The air crackled around her, a tell-tale sign of the heat rising in her veins. She stormed over to him, clutching her newly healed arm. Whatever remorse panged in Astarion was smothered by the resentment that broiled in him.

“There’s no way we could’ve let the goblins continue,” she argued. “Stopping them was important.”

“For what? To protect some irrelevant grassy hill so these - these idiots can frolic in the forests and roll in mud till the end of their days?!” Astarion snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, my fate is lying in the balance. All of ours are! And yet you want to play saviour for what? A round of applause?”

His chest heaved, fangs bared in the dim light of the dungeon, sneering. “How droll.”

Pain flashed across Tav’s face. Poison seemed to pour out of every pore in Astarion’s skin as he waited for her reply. Indignation flashed across her eyes, like lightning across a dark grey sky.

“You don’t like it? Fine!” the final tether in Tav snapped as gusts of wind blew around her. “All of us have been trying so, ­so hard. I’ve been at the end of my rope for weeks – doing who knows what just for a semblance of peace in this gigantic mess we’ve landed in. You don’t like that – then fine!”

Tav pointed her finger straight into his chest.

“But don’t you ever – ever – dare accuse me of doing this for damn applause.”

Shoving him aside, she stalked off into the forest. The rest of the companions were stunned, having never seen such an outburst from their stoic friend. Exasperated, Astarion ran back into the Selunite temple, itching to find anyone, anything left to fight.

It was nightfall before Astarion finally left. Nothing was in the temple but dust and abandoned chests, to his chagrin. Irritated, tired, hungry. All these emotions brewed in his stomach – but there was one that stood out the most. Loneliness. He, of all people, felt … alone? The thought made him want to puke. He survived years in Cazador’s torment with no-one but himself. So why did he long for company now?

His previous anger was dying down to an ember. It was slowly being replaced with an absolutely terrible desire to return to camp and see his companions again. To see Gale learning with Lae’zel. To see Shadowheart gossiping with Wyll and Karlach. Try as he might, he was too exhausted to even smother his desire to see Tav. To maybe even apologise.

He groaned.

Kicking the dust up in the path, he made his way back.

As he predicted, the reception upon his return was less than warm.

The campfire crackled, and Gale to his credit was more than happy to see him return. Shadowheart seemed less than impressed at his outburst, but other than that, everyone seemed weirdly alright. There was no yelling at him, no threat to kick him straight out of camp. It seemed a near normal night, or as close to normal as they could get. Wanting to avoid any awkward conversations, Astarion made a beeline to his own tent, determined to spend the rest of the night in silence as he worked through the thoughts that hounded him recently.

He was surprised to see Tav waiting there for him.

She was startled at his return, and there was a small spark of satisfaction in him at catching her off-guard.

“You’re back,” she remarked.

“Yes. I am.” Astarion didn’t have much to reply either.

It seemed the outburst had taken as much a toll on Tav as it did on him. She seemed even more taciturn than usual, as if anything she had to say had been dragged out of her already. Tiredness was creeping onto her face. Astarion spied the unsightly scar running down her arm, and the words spilled out of him before he could stop it.

“I’m,” the words feel silly as they tumbled out, “sorry. I’m sorry.”

“O-oh.” Tav was speechless. Astarion stood up a bit straighter, desperate to shake the awkwardness off. The feeling of vulnerability was if a grip on him had finally been released – pain that gave way to a rush of something unknown.

“Under Cazador, I never really … needed to work with anyone else,” his hands spun randomly as he tried to explain himself. “I had to survive first. I had to be my own priority. I was terrified that anyone I ever got close to would bolt the second they knew who I really was - or worse, be made an example of.”

Tav took in his words, quiet as she always was, but now? It was for him. This space, this time to talk – it was all for him. The mere thought sent a giddy laugh bubbling through his heaving chest. Whether it was from nerves or happiness or just sheer relief – he neither knew nor cared. It sent an equally silly laugh through Tav.

“I could never be with anyone else, much less enjoy my time with them, you know. Things like sharing a glass of wine or waking up in the morning knowing I was safe with someone – it’s – I – I never knew how much it could mean to me. I didn’t realise how much … you could mean to me.”

Tav let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “Astarion …”

She took his hand in hers – blissfully unaware to the pickup in his undead pulse – before smiling at him. “I’m just very glad you’re safe. And back with us. You said some awful things.”

“I know,” he laced their fingers tighter together, squeezing, “I’m sorry.”

It was a testament to their bond that she understood the words he hadn't the strength left to say, seeing past the bluster and fake charm. The fear he felt daily, the mask he wore, the scars of his past.

“I know it’s hard,” she whispered. “It’s hard for all of us, but we’ll get there. I promise.”

Astarion pulled her into the first genuine hug he’d had in years. He felt her hands wrap around him and nearly melted into the floor.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, feeling her heart thud against his. “Thank you.”

thanks for reading! :)

[eclecticshadowwitch]

Chapters: 11/29 Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Astarion/Tav (Baldur's Gate) Characters: Original Female Character(s), Original Characters, Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Cazador Szarr Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Before Astarion is a vampire, Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Past Sexual Assault, slowish burn, Teasing, Dominant Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Magistrate Astarion, Master/Slave, Master/Pet, Master/Servant, Dubious Consent, Astarion is an asshole in the beginning, Angst with a Happy Ending, I'm bad at dungeons and dragons lore, Don't Judge Me, pleasure slaves are common and normal, i just wanna fuck the pansexual vampire twink, it's not too much to ask Summary:

The warmth burned from the inside out, her chest heaving from the exertion of moving in time with the body underneath her. Every muscle spasmed and ached, exhaustion clawing at her chest and threatening to climb up to her brain soon enough. She didn’t know how much more of this her body could take. Cool hands ran down the length of her skin, wandering in places only she dared touch recently. The coolness of the touch barely abated the fire in her skin, and she desperately wished that it would, if only to give her some aspect of respite. Sharp teeth carved little lines against her throat and cheeks, sanguine tears leaking from every little wound in her skin, reaching down to their creator. Soft, supple lips caressed her skin, asking and aching to pull more pleasure from her skin and soul. Oh, her soul; it craved to give in. It ached to release to the body underneath her. It was a wonder it hadn’t already. It was a miracle she could even remember her own name.

[jesvisfarovche]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Astarion/Tav (Baldur's Gate), Astarion/Charname (Baldur's Gate) Characters: Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Tav (Baldur's Gate) Additional Tags: Named Tav (Baldur's Gate), Vampire Bites, Implied kink, mildly erotic biting, Mutual Attraction, Elven Tav, Nonbinary Character Summary:

Having survived one nighttime encounter with their pale traveling companion, a bard seeks his company again.

Everyone knows a bite is never just a bite.

[transparentkittenheart]

Sex in a bed:

Boring, predictable, you might need to sleep in the wet spot.

Sex on your undead lovers grave:

Goth, silly, is some sort of symbolism about claiming your own life back, the leg thing.

[thrawns-babygirl]

Okay so like, I understand Vampire spawn probably can't have children right? But I can't stop thinking about the idea of Astarion and Tav having a kid and once the baby is born it doesn't have the same colour eyes as him or Tav and he's confused for a moment until he realises those are his eyes.

The eye colour he can't remember, he can finally see it.

And I'm totally normal about that idea 🫠🙃

[littlemourningstarr]

For the kiss ask game:

Sekh and Astarion in relief!

The baaaaabesss ❤️❤️

TW for mentions of past non-con and trauma.

Astarion could hear it, the voice of nightmares, clawing in his skull. Everything was dark, he could feel his body, his bones, his skin- but why wouldn't his eyes open? Why couldn’t he see?

The voice continued, strings of words that tore into Astarion's skull, wormed into his very mind. Making him feel small, pathetic, worthless.

Nothing but a sad little whore. And oh, what a whore he was.

Cazador's voice made Astarion grind his teeth, before he felt a fire in his back- hot, burning knives digging into his icy skin. Parting and carving the contract and branding him as Cazador’s own, more than the bite ever had. Cazador’s toy to toss about as he pleased, to break and break and break, and then throw away.

The black receded as the pain intensified, Astarion crying out in agony as he had the night Cazador had first carved into him. Beneath his hands he could feel the expensive fur rug Cazador kept in one of his chambers. He felt it beneath his bare knees, as blood riveted down his sides, dripping onto the furs that were worth more than his own life.

In his right mind, Astarion would know this was wrong. This wasn't where Cazador carved the pact into him. He wouldn't have risked sullying any of his finery for Astarion. But somehow the dichotomy of Cazador’s whispered words- whore whore whore- and the soft, angelic like fur, made this a hell that wanted to burst from Astarion's gut.

The knife pulled from Astarion's back, and he was roughly shoved down, landing with his face pressed into the fur. Clawed hands gripped his naked hips and forced him onto his back. The fur that was soft a moment ago felt like tiny endless thorns pushing into his ruined skin, needles that bit at exposed nerves.

Finally the blackness fell away, and from it Astarion could see Cazador’s face- those glowing eyes, fangs too long if his mind could grasp at proper memory-

"My boy. My whorish little boy."

Hands on his thighs, smearing blood onto pearly skin, pushing them open and open and open until Astarion thought bone would crack-

His eyes snapped open the moment he felt the barely-there heat of Cazador’s own naked skin. He gasped for an unneeded breath, staring up at the ceiling of the dark bedroom. There was a faint, pulsing purple glow coming from the far corner- the latest plant Sekh had brought up from his workshop.

Astarion flexed his fingers against the sheets, his dead heart hammering painfully against his ribs. There was sweat on his spine- but for a single, horrifying moment, he was so sure it was blood.

Paralyzed, Astarion felt as if he hadn't left the nightmare. Even with his eyes open his mind could continue the sordid fantasy, what Cazador would do to him, over and over again. How it hurt. How Astarion's body would betray him anyway. How Cazador would laugh and mock him for finding release under him.

He felt the bed shift next to him, and in his delirium he wondered if the monster was there, waiting, ready to crawl over Astarion, suck the remnants of his soul from his mouth. But the sleep-addled voice that spoke was anything but monstrous.

“Astarion?”

Astarion shifted his eyes, could just make out Sekh as he propped himself up, hair in disarray around his face, over his shoulders, studying him. Astarion wanted to turn to him, wanted to curl into his comforting warmth, but he was still so paralyzed.

Sekh sat up properly then, wakefulness rushing into his eyes, as he reached out, splayed a hand on Astarion’s bare chest. Fire sparked from his fingertips, into Astarion’s skin, made the parts of him the drow touched feel alive. Sekh slid closer, leaned over Astarion, his ginger hair acting as a veil, cutting them off from the room around them, the world outside their home.

“Sweetheart, you’re alright.” Astarion wanted to believe him- a sliver of his consciousness did, knew this was nothing but a night terror, nothing but jumbled memories and well crafted fiction-

But it had been so long, since he’d had one. For a single moment he had thought perhaps Cazador was behind him. Dead in the ground and forgotten.

Sekh’s hand slid up his bare chest, cupped his cheek affectionately, thumb stroking along his skin. “You’re safe starshine, I promise.”

Astarion exhaled then, felt his muscles letting go of their rigid terror, relaxing in an almost painful way. He tipped his head slightly, watched as Sekh smiled at him. His lover pulled back, sat next to Astarion, as the vampire managed to convince his body to move- swore his joints were creaking as he rolled to his side, facing Sekh.

“Do you want me to hold you?” Sekh was positioned so perfectly just an inch from Astarion’s touch- far enough that he could close the space in not even a breath, could gather Astarion up and cradle him to his chest.

Yet he wasn’t touching. Now that he’d brought Astarion back into his body, he was strategically within reach, but without contact.

There were moments when Astarion wanted to sob, that he could understand. That he wanted the touch so badly, the comfort, the feeling of being alive- but in these terror stricken moments, he had to choose it.

Astarion sat up slowly, giving a nod. Sekh offered up his hand, and only when Astarion took it did the drow pull him to his chest, wrap his arms around him and engulf him in the sort of safety the vampire never thought he would know. He melted against Sekh’s chest, listened to the steady thump of his living and beautiful heart against his ribs. It was the only sound in the room, to Astarion. Perhaps the only sound in the world.

Astarion felt Sekh kiss the top of his head, gently- just a brush of lips of bed tangled curls, nothing more. Relief washed through Astarion as he relaxed further, let his eyes fall shut again. This time the darkness that engulfed him was calming, welcoming.

He swore that the blackness of oblivion had a different glow, a different shade, with Sekh. That with him, and endless nothing was just fine.

[litsen-lithenna]

Some thoughts about UA healing journey post-game

TW: Speaking of abuse, trauma, ptsd, and the struggles of healing (take care 🧡) [Long rambling… I’m sorry, and it’s all about my headcanons and how I imagine Astarion and Tav/Durge’s relationship post-game. Of course, I’m perfectly fine with people disagreeing and discussing it, as long you’re not rude✨] I’ve had many thoughts about post-game spawn Astarion, precisely because I find his ending really inspirational, and as a survivor myself, I believe there’s a bittersweet edge to it. {a brief foreword} Healing takes a lot of time, it’s painful and difficult, and you can’t completely get rid of the past. You learn to accept your trauma as part of your life, but the idea is to not let it define you. You're a victim, but you’re not just a victim, it doesn’t define you although it’s a part of you. And you may eventually find a way to live with it, but it never truly goes away. In the epilogue, we (I, at least) understand Astarion will try and walk that healing path, with your Tav/(resist)Durge. And even if he stumbles and falls on the way, he's not alone anymore, there will be people around to help him get back on his feet. It's beautiful, even if it's sometimes difficult.

And there's one line from the epilogue that makes me quite sad, and increases that bittersweet feeling I have: when the narrator says that Astarion told you that those last those “6 months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery”; it does sound sweet, but I think it's a lie (sorry😫 ).

The narrator doesn’t use direct speech with a sentence like "It feels like those 6 months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery“ or "it is obvious that those last 6 months of happy memories…" - Instead, she uses indirect speech, she reports Astarion’s words: "Astarion told you that…", and well… Astarion is an unreliable narrator, he does have a tendency to lie and hide behind a smile, right? (Even if he opens up a little more after Cazador's death).

That’s why I tend to believe that he would prefer to avoid talking about his hardest struggles to the person he loves, and here are some hypothesis of why he'd do that:

He wants to reassure Tav/(resist)Durge so they don’t worry too much.

He doesn’t want to admit he still struggles with his past, not just out of pride, but also because he might lowkey think he “failed” at being completely happy, he might that he "failed" at being done with his past… (Which is, of course, untrue – healing is not a competition, it’s hard, it takes years, and it’s never a straight path,;sometimes you feel better, sometimes you have relapses, sometimes you don’t know what to do or how you feel.) I wouldn’t be surprised if, after years of abuse, he’d believe himself incapable of being good enough to heal… (that hurts a lot)

He doesn’t want to disappoint Tav/Durge – like, "Tav/Durge did so much for me andI can’t even stop struggling with my past, how ungrateful I am!" (ouch) 4- That’s his way to thank Tav/Durge, like “I am so grateful, so I’ll pretend to be completely healed because I know that’s what they want for me: to be happy." (Can you see where this is going?)

Wait a minute!

I’m not saying that post-game spawn Astation would be unhappy! On the contrary, I do believe that he’d be really happy, rediscovering what happiness means, what affection means, the pure joy of knowing how it feels to be himself, to be free (and in love, and loved!).

But I also think there would be relapses, moments of doubts, ptsd, dissociation, nightmares, intrusive thoughts and awful memories, and nights during which he would withdraw into himself completely, if only because he doesn’t know how to deal with all this.

All of this to say that I HC that the relationship wouldn’t be all sweet and soft for them- not all the time at least - even if Tav is the most healthy, considerate, sweetest person to be with - I usually play resist Durge so the traumas are piling up and they have to deal with their respective pasts, which makes it even more complicated.

I’m not saying the relationship would be toxic, but that they would both have a lot to do to make it work. And considering how Astarion tends to hide how he truly feels, Tav/Durge would definitely have to help him open up, to create safe spaces for him so he could feel like he can talk safely when things are getting difficult, instead of just brushing them off with a fake smile. Another point that I’ve been thinking of (A LOT), and which you can connect to point 3 and 4 above: he doesn’t want to disappoint. He spent two hundred years obeying, and each time he would disappoint Cazador, he was punished. So, I think he wouldn’t so easily get rid of what he was trained to do. Therefore, even if Astarion doesn’t see Tav/Durge as a potential 'master', I think he’d still have some tendencies to rely on them, to follow their lead. Because, even if he says multiple times that he wouldn’t let anyone control him ever again, and even if Tav/Durge refuses to tell him what to do, even if they refuse to control him, Astarion would unconsciously tend to let them take the lead. (which would obviolusly be even more difficult for Durge)

And I think Astarion would do his best to never disappoint, terrified to be abandoned, or worse, that the one he loves might see him just as he sometimes still thinks he is: not enough, just a pretty face.

It would require a lot of work and talking and patience from Tav/Durge to help him go through that, giving him agency about small things, mundane decisions, and little by little, make him understand that he doesn’t have to rely on anyone and that he can make the right choice for himself, and by himself. And they’d have to reassure him too, but I don’t think he would enjoy if this support was too obvious; I think he’d hate being paternalized by a partner who’d keep on openly encouraging him as if he was a child. But subtle tokens of support, quiet encouragements (a hand on his arm, a smile, their hand squeezing his hand, etc.) could probably help him feel better about himself without making him feel inadequate. In any case, I don’t think 6 months, even 6 months of the sweetest honeymoon, would make up for what Astarion went through. I can’t believe it, and I think the writers knew that too. And that use of the indirect speech by the narrator is enough for me to confirm it (alright, maybe my academic studies in literature are biasing me a little but aaah…! I can't help thinking about the "Astarion told you that…").

Sorry this was wayyyyy too long and heartbreaking and quite incoherent and there’s no real conclusion, but I needed all this out of my chest! Thank you for your attention 🩵 (and I apologise for the typos, it's late and I'm tired af)

[sorn-orlith]

[Slight NSFT | Astarion x m!Tav headcanons]

Perhaps Tav is religious. Perhaps he’s shy. Perhaps he grows faint at the sight of blood. However it came to be, when he finds Astarion’s fangs inches from his neck, Tav’s first instinct is to reach for the dagger he keeps tucked in his boot.

The initial reaction is what Astarion expected… but Tav’s immediate understanding comes as a surprise. Riding the high, he presses — just a taste?

A definitive no. Right, of course; Astarion will be off now.

But when they chat about it the next day in camp, Tav is once again open-minded. Not only does he encourage his companion to drink from their enemies, he defends him. He trusts him and asserts it in front of all their powerful, wary-eyed friends.

That’s certainly a shock.

And, because Astarion is who he is, he pushes his luck once more. He’s seen the way Tav’s eyes linger on his form, the way he always finds a seat next to Astarion despite his distance from the fire. He sharpens his smoothest lines and aims for the heart.

For protection. Obviously. What he doesn’t realize is that Tav has been protecting him this whole time, just like he has everyone else in their ragtag crew. Tav’s devotion has never been a question.

When they reach the cursed blood-dealing drow at Moonrise Towers, Tav only needs to flick his gaze over to the vampire. Astarion tells her on no uncertain terms that he’d rather drink the mystery liquid pooling at the bottom of the oubliette.

They’re intimate that night. Not sexually — Astarion lays himself raw, and Tav lets him explore the nooks and crannies in his brain, every one brimming with love for him. Though he doesn’t need to, Astarion breathes. He smells Tav’s blood, his sweat, his musk intermingled. He wants it all. That night, and every night thereafter, their tents are pitched no more than a few inches from each other.

They’re intimate again the night Cazador is killed. Astarion is raw once again, but he isn’t in need of protecting. No gifts, no exchanges. Just two souls in need of respite.

Their kisses are slow, deep; Astarion breathes in everything he did the night of Moonrise and more. It sparks longing — a different type of hunger. One the pair indulges together, not taking but giving and losing themselves in each others touch. They come undone, one after the each, on each others hands, bodies pressed so closely together it’s as though they share one beating heart.

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (14) - Trance

Chapter summary: Astarion wishes he coukd freeze this moment in time, but fate has a way of interfering.

Pairing: Astation x female!Tav

Warnings: Astarion's POV. Mentions of trauma.

Word count: 2.6k

Series Masterlist . Ao3

Vampirism had warped his bodily need to trance. 

The tadpole had meddled with it even further and he barely found the need for it all, but there was some semblance. Now, it was back to what it used to be.

He had no actual need for it, but he had come to realise it was the only way to be with you without facing the prison his mind had become. It allowed him to bypass how it held back his body.

In his trance-induced dreams, he was finally free.

Whatever freedom meant to him, he was sure you were involved somehow.

Even if only bound to a dream and nothing more. 

After all, you had made it perfectly clear that a friendship was all you could offer.

He had made peace with that.

For the most part.

He still had these moments of wanting to slip into his subconscious and lose himself in you.

The mattress underneath his body was comfortable enough and the raindrops outside that thumped against the window, presented themselves as more than enough to lull him into the beginnings of a trance.

He let go of his weight.

He blacked out everything around him in the hopes he'd find you.

Your chirpy laughter was what he heard first. Unknowingly, a faint smile tugged gently at his lips. He could easily get lost in the warmth of your voice.

He was getting deep enough that your voice now had a corporeal form, too.

Your kind face took over each corner of his mind until all of him was you.

Astarion could barely withstand trancing unless he could conjure you this way.

You were the calm in a restless sea that kept on drowning him.

In his mind, he could find himself being with you with nothing holding him back.

It was freeing and soothing.

It was an illusion, and in the back of his head, he almost felt it slip away as awareness threatened to overtake. 

He frowned.

Your voice faded and your pleasant face held a grave expression. It was as if you could tell something was wrong.

And you'd be right.

There was something wrong with his trance.

As frustration began to dissolve the image of you, he let out a low growl of annoyance as his eyes snapped open.

And he immediately understood why it felt off.

Ava was standing near the edge of his bed, holding a sweet smile that he had grown to appreciate over the past few weeks.

“You were reaching for her again, weren't you?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It's the only way I can these days.”

She lowered herself to sit, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. “You know that isn't true.”

“Ava, I don't wish to be lectured,” he said, more harshly than intended.

She nodded and said nothing else.

There was nothing more to be said. She had tried to make him see that he was the only one standing in between himself and you. 

He had heard it all before and he was sick of it.

It wasn't as easy as snapping his fingers, because a large part of him didn't want your friendship.

He could find friends. In fact, he didn't even know if he needed friends. 

Your friendship wasn't enough, but he had no right to demand more when he was struggling this hard with his mind.

Could he even offer more? Did he even deserve more?

“Do you wish me to leave?” Ava's voice snapped him from his thoughts. “I can, but maybe a piece of advice is in order.”

His frown eased and he nodded. 

“I would urge you to stop seeking her in your mind. She's out there. You two have been seeing each other to honour your arrangement.” She paused briefly, studying his reaction. “I can lay here with you and help with your intimacy, but I'm not the one you seek.”

Silence.

“The chance you seek is within you and I believe she can help in more ways than one.”

He scoffed. “I can't ask that of her. This is not something she has to concern herself with.”

Ava leaned against the headboard with a sigh. “Lovers help each other through the toughest of times.”

The word ignited a visceral reaction inside him at once.

“We're not lovers!”

Ava didn't even flinch at his snarl. “But you could be.”

Ava was terribly skilled at worming her way under his skin. He didn't regret having gotten closer to her even if merely as an exchange of sorts.

“Leave.”

The word spilled from his lips like poison and he knew he wasn't being fair, but he couldn't stand talking about you.

Not with her.

You would be utterly disappointed that he was giving out his blood like this.

He was beginning to dread any talks of you with her.

Mostly because Ava didn't know you and no string of words he might voice would ever do you justice.

You had saved him from himself. You had trusted him when no one else would. You had been his first and he had been yours. 

How could he possibly put into words how much you meant to him? 

“Astarion, jus-”

He had made up his mind. “Leave. I don't need love advice from anyone – least of all you.”

It was harsh. 

And it was enough to cause her eyes to widen in unmistakable displeasure. 

“That was uncalled for.”

She rose to her feet and walked out of the room without sparing another glance in his direction, the door closing loudly behind her.

In a way, he was thankful she didn't. He knew he'd find hurt in her face and he could do without the reminder of how snarky he could be.

For all intents and purposes, Ava had been the sole constant in his life and he might even consider her a… friend.

He had made some progress along the way.

Touching you as he fed didn't feel suffocating. He could even bear your touch as you held on to him for support.

He would need to feed soon.

Your blood was more filling than anything he could hunt out there, but the set schedule wasn't enough.

He pushed himself to sit, face buried in his hands.

You were already giving him more than he could ever repay. Again.

But he still found in himself the unshakable desire for more.

More. More. More.

This was the nature of his bond with you.

No in-betweens. No half measures.

With you, it was all or nothing.

And his vampiric nature always found ways to creep into his mind. 

Blood.

“Astarion?”

He was rooted to the garden bench, your eyes on him.

Shaking his head, he cleared his throat. “Yes?”

Uncertainty covered your face and he immediately realised you feared he had spaced out too far for her reach.

“Oh, I apologise, dear,” he said, putting on his best mask. “I suppose I wasn't expecting this revelation.”

But even such a practised facade was no longer enough to keep you convinced.

You knew him too well.

Slowly, you came to sit by his side again. “I'm sorry, Astarion.”

That immediately gnawed at his nerves. “Whatever for?”

“I know you were fond of Ava, and it's never easy to realise that someone we might have placed our trust in once can be capable of such things.”

Your logic wasn't flawed per se, but it didn't quite cover what he was now feeling.

“You think I'm upset because I care for her?”

“You don't?”

He tensed up. “My relationship with her felt necessary. It was built out of mutual need.”

At this, your features hardened. “Like ours when we first met?”

“It could never be like ours.”

He tried his best to hide the offence he had taken from your words, but, once again, you were able to read right through him.

“Didn't you see her as a friend?”

Quite frankly… “No.”

“Then why do you seem so shaken?”

Astarion should have known better than to give in to his impulsiveness, as it rarely did him any favours.

Yet…

“Why? Why do you think?” he said through gritted teeth. “I feel ashamed! More so because it was my recklessness that could have potentially been the cause of all of this.” 

You looked alarmed, but took your time to word out an answer. “Astarion, you couldn't have known. If this is actually true, then she played you.”

He scoffed, avoiding your piercing eyes. “Ironic, isn't it? I used to be so good at reading people and…” His voice faltered momentarily. “... and now I realise how much of a fool I am.”

Your hand met his cheek and you slowly turned his head until your eyes found his again. “You're not a fool for trusting people. You didn’t trust me at first, remember? It was all about survival.”

Astarion was sure that if his heart still pulsed, it would have shattered.

“I trusted you and you trusted me.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You are far too trusting.”

You smiled warmly and his defences immediately crumbled. “And you hardly trust anyone. Still, we met halfway, didn't we? Through pain and blood and gore and with all the odds against us, we found a way.”

Astarion realised for the nth time in that moment that he adored you.

He didn't think he had it in him to break the flow of this moment and say it out loud, but he did.

Trust was never on the table with him. He had built his undeath around using and abusing the trust others placed on him, only to bring them to their demise. Therefore, he never expected the same grace to be extended to him. He was unworthy, wasn't he?

Until you came along and shifted his world on its axis, showing him that there was still good out there reserved even for those deemed monsters.

Your hand dropped from his face, but your caring smile only deepened.

“I will not think any less of you if my suspicions are confirmed.”

It would be so easy to just accept your words, but he still hesitated. “Maybe you should. I roped you and others over something driven by selfishness.”

And now you were visibly angry.

“Astarion. Stop it – please. You told me about the spawn in the Underdark, too. A selfish person wouldn't even factor them in.”

He grimaced. “Be it as it may. It didn't start out like that. I thought of only myself when I made the deal with Ava. My blood for a possible cure to my hunger.”

“Does it matter how it started? Does it, really? You're not the person you used to be. You're not driven by the same survival instinct and selfishness.”

“Because of you.” he blurted out.

Did this version of himself even exist without you? If it hadn't been for you, he would have ascended. He would have sacrificed thousands of souls and reach

A part of him still lingered on the ‘what if’ of it all. Deep down, he knew that refusing to partake in the ritual had been the right choice for him. For everyone. 

But he still wondered… what if.

“What of the ritual, then? I was so blinded by greed and power that I would have caved in if not for you.”

Weak.

Pathetic.

Broken.

You seemed slightly taken aback before offering a reassuring smile. “You're so wrong, Astarion. I merely reminded you of who you already were. You saved yourself.”

He was stunned silent for a moment.

You were being genuine and it was clear you meant every single word.

“I've told you this before, but I'm proud of you,” you said, reaching for his hand and he nearly hissed from the sudden shift in temperature. You were always so warm… even on a cool night. “I hope you are, too.”

He wasn't. He truly wasn't, but he would lie for you.

His voice would give him away, so he merely nodded, earning a tender squeeze from you.

“Maybe we ought to go and meet Wyll now.”

He hesitated as you tugged his hand, not moving an inch.

In truth, he'd rather stay here with you and savour this moment. He was excruciatingly exhausted from the emotional turmoil the past days had brought on. 

“The sooner we go, the better,” you reminded him.

Astarion looked up at the night sky until his gaze found the horizon line, hues of soft pink and orange swirling in the distance.

Dawn was about to break.

The sun couldn't be kept from rising just as he couldn't keep himself from you.

“We'll figure this out, Astarion. Together.”

You gave his hand another squeeze and shifted in his seat, fully facing you.

For a moment, he considered kissing you. He thought it would be fitting. He could allow his body to convey what words would always fail to do so.

But his body was at the mercy of his mind.

So you spoke first, “May I hug you?”

It was a simple enough request, yet he appreciated you asking beforehand.

“Of course, darling.”

You leaned into him, engulfing his body within the warmth of yours. He lowered his chin to rest on your shoulder and you mimicked him, clearly doing your best to read his body language.

He was tense at first, mostly due to the unwavering fear that his mind might play a trick on him. 

But he found himself slowly but surely easing into you, welcoming your touch. He could hear your pulse quicken alongside your neck and his stomach lurched in response. His most basic instincts being put to the test.

A wave of revulsion washed down in a frail attempt at keeping his hunger for your blood at bay.

Eventually, he was able to have it subside into the back of his mind, like an ever-watchful fiend, waiting for him to give permission.

But he had sworn off feeding on you again. At least, for the time being. As painful as it was – and borderline unnatural for a vampire – he had to resist this. 

The act itself was too tainted for now, and the wildlife around Baldur's Gate would have to suffice.

He wished he could freeze this moment in time and have everything else be background noise.

And when you finally pulled back from the embrace, he saw tears streaming down your face, causing him to stir in alert.

“What did I do?”

You shook your head, your face too close. “Nothing. You're just…”

It was time to lighten the mood and that was a skill he indulged like no other.

“Ridiculously handsome?”

You chuckled, your breath fanning his lips. “Incredibly so. But…”

He cradled your face in his hands, thumb brushing against the softness of your cheek, as he waited for you to continue.

You shivered under his touch.

Was it from the cold?

Or was it something else?

You were close. Too close. 

He could feel your every breath on his face and this ever-growing pull was now enveloping him.

Oh, how he wanted to kiss you.

Make you his and his alone.

“What is it, love?”

The word had left his lips before he could register how he was almost… panting.

Your hands came to grip his arms and he found himself leaning into you again.

“Astarion… I…”

He arched a brow, suddenly aware that something was amiss.

Something was terribly wrong.

Your eyes were glassy and your skin had grown cold, mouth agape and face void of any tangible expression.

Suddenly, you went limp in his arms but not before letting out a piercing pained shriek that tore through the night air and through him like the sharpest of knives. Your pulse was weak, but he could still feel your heart fighting through

Amongst the shock and panic, he spotted movement in the corner of his eye.

A hooded figure was standing still by the fence and he immediately knew who it was.

“Hello, Astarion.”

TBC

[sorceresssundries]

Shades of Green

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: Tav finds herself in possession of a most revealing letter. Tempted and confused, she retreats with her thoughts to the silent sanctuary of a library. One-shot.

Warnings: Vaginal Sex, Jealousy, Fucking Against a Bookcase...

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This is inspired by Atonement, and contains elements of the book/film but with a different plot and in a different universe.

Shout out to @heyitsjaki for the inspiration - this one's for you, babe!

The blanket of dusk had begun its descent, with the lingering warmth of the sun settling in for another stifling night. The open windows of the Elfsong tavern did nothing to cool the skin of the adventurers preparing themselves for the evening ahead; they just welcomed the sounds of a city slipping into a night’s reverie, as market stalls were swept away and parents chased giggling children off to bed. 

Tav had changed her outfit three times. Figaro had sent her out of his shop with a bundle of dresses, but she had struggled to pick the one most appropriate. The long-sleeved black ensemble, with its intricate lace, felt stifling against her sun-kissed skin, while the pale blue option left her feeling too juvenile for the occasion. Eventually, she settled on a backless silk number which echoed the emerald of her eyes. It skimmed and spilled over her body as though it were made of liquid.

She was trying lipstick and appraising herself in the mirror when she heard footsteps behind her; footsteps with no reflection.

“You look divine, darling.” Astation’s voice was as silken as her dress but with none of the comfort. She ignored him, knowing where this was leading.

“I assume there will be nothing to my… taste… being served at this dinner party?” He drawled. 

"If you're wondering whether Rolan will be serving goblets of blood at his inaugural hosting as master, I'd venture to say it's highly unlikely." It had been a mere couple of days since they had efficiently removed the former master of Ramazith's tower. Grateful for their assistance, Rolan had extended a formal dinner invitation to all involved—a chance, perhaps, to both express his gratitude and showcase his newfound position. Though the timing might not have been perfect, the prospect of an evening away from the Elfsong, wearing clothing absent of bloodstains, held collective appeal.

“Well, then we find ourselves in a bit of a tricky situation, my sweet.”

Tav turned round to face him, and caught his eyes roaming her body.  “There’s no need for predatory looks, Astarion.” She kept her voice clipped, businesslike. Theirs was an arrangement which she had always kept uncomplicated, despite his occasional attempt at complication. “You may take what you need, as long as you promise to be on your best behaviour this evening.”

“Aren’t I always?” He flashed his roguish smile and approached her with barely concealed hunger. She sighed and tilted her head back to allow him what he needed.

“You smell like warm vanilla” Her murmured as he inhaled against her skin, before pressing his lips against the thrumming pulse of her throat and sinking his teeth into her. The second her taste kissed his tongue, he moaned instinctively. She was the first bite of an apple after a day of starvation. The feeling of it was always over-personal, and despite Tav having no romantic attachment or desire towards him, there was a soft flush of intimacy which came from the feeling of him gripping her and basking in her taste. It almost felt like worship. Tav let out a gentle gasp as he gave one final, meaningful swallow and then stepped back, panting. She knew it took restraint to stop, and she appreciated the effort and, well, manners, of him prising himself away before he was asked. They were both breathless, her a little dizzy, and he handed her a handkerchief from his top pocket to press against the bleeding puncture wounds on her neck. 

“Thank you darling” He bowed his head “That will make the evening much more bearable.”

Upon leaving Tav’s room, he bumped into Gale standing outside the door holding a letter. From his tense posture and grim expression, Astarion guessed he had been there long enough to catch wind of the vampire’s early evening snack.

“Hear anything interesting?” Astarion lilted, relishing the hardness in Gale’s usually soft eyes. “You know, she certainly is delicious.” His voice was a silken purr which Gale wished to choke from his throat. The scarlet of Tav’s blood had left a smear at the corner of his mouth, sin-red and mocking. 

Their relationship had always been tense, and that tension had only tightened when Gale became aware of his and Tav’s bloody arrangement. He did not know the details of it, or how much of herself she gave to him during these trysts, but he knew that she deserved better than to be the bloodbag of a leech, or the plaything of a roguish manipulator. His fierce feelings on the matter occasionally spilled into his interactions with Tav, a fault he felt much guilt over. He hated feeling like this, possessive over something he did not even own. He loved her, and sometimes love felt like fury. He was determined to make things right.

Astarion’s cheeks were slightly flushed from the blood which now bloomed through him. Her blood. Gale had heard his moan, her gasp, their shared breathlessness; and had wanted to burst the door open and stake the vampire where he stood. He gripped tight to what little composure he had, and focused on not crumpling the letter in his grip. The veins in his forearms were raised in tension, and resembled cracked bolts of blue lightning against his tanned skin, shooting out from where his sleeves had been pushed up. His breathing was slow, considered; but flared.

“I heard enough.” Gale stowed the letter away in his back pocket, but not before Astarion’s eyes glimpsed it. Gale was not a man who dealt out threats like trump cards, he had always preferred a battle of wits over blades, or the cut of a sharp word over a knife, but he was not above displaying violence if necessary. He felt like it may become necessary. 

“If I ever hear that you’ve taken a drop more than she is willing to give, there will be no shadow dark enough to hide you from me.” Gale asserted, his tone measured. “Besides, our little journey will be over soon, and I’m sure you’ll be back to your previous self in no time.” He took a step closer, and wiped away Tav’s blood with his thumb. “What a shame it would be to make an enemy of one who can conjure up sunlight.” With that, Gale walked away, unaware that Astarion's swift fingers had liberated the letter from his pocket.

It lay temptingly in Astarion’s hands, and without a moment's hesitation, he indulged his curiosity, devouring its contents with the same gluttonous reverie as he had Tav’s blood. There was a beat as he re-read it twice, shocked at what the restrained Wizard had written. "How delicious," he mused, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. With a calculated nonchalance, he slipped the letter under Tav's door, and slinked away with a cocky grin.

Tav had forgotten how to breathe properly. The handwriting was unmistakable. The ink was his deep purple. It even smelled of him. 

Dear Tav,

 In my dreams I kiss your cunt, your sweet wet cunt.

In my thoughts I make love to you all day long. 

Gale.

She felt she had missed something, somewhere, in their short time together. A code she had not cracked, a riddle she had failed to solve. He was affectionate, flirtatious occasionally, charming always, but after spending so much time touch-starved and lacking company Tav had assumed his feelings were akin to those of a drowning man who had been thrown a rope from a passing ship. She had longed for him many times, she had even pushed the thought of a fierce kiss into his mind one magic-filled evening, and he had pulled away…

She had hoped that after Elminster eased the urgency of his condition, that maybe something would come of it. That he would find his way into her tent one night and let himself come undone after a year of being bound so tightly. But he had not. She had not pushed it, he was a man burdened and she did not want to add to it.

She could not think of this now. Not here. Not when they were about to spend an evening in the company of their friends. She re-read the note again and felt herself flush, if only he was aware of her own dreams, of the temptations that whispered and caressed whenever he tensed his muscles in arcane focus, when the sweat borne from summoned fire beaded his brow, or when his voice sank low to pull measured incantations from the depths of his muscled, hair-smattered chest. She shuddered, and fanned herself with no relief. She could not think of this now.

The hours at dinner ached onwards, with Gale sat just out of Tav’s direct eyeline. He was on the opposite side of the food-laden table, a few places along - and he was so aware of her that she may as well have been the only other person in the room. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, lips painted with a colour that made them look bitten. He wanted to deepen the colour with his teeth. He thought her dress made it look like art, she looked like poetry, like no artist would ever be tongue-tied or word-blocked again with her for a muse. Ironic, really, with how thick his tongue felt in his mouth just from looking at her. He thought her dress was the most silken, tempting, beautiful thing he had seen someone wear.

 It was perfect, and he wanted to ruin it. 

Tav had been avoiding his gaze all evening, afraid for him to look at her and see the truth. She was convinced it was waiting there, unabashed and obvious, and with one glance would be pulled from its poorly concealed hiding place. To look at him now would be stupid, reckless, dangerous. Her eyes flicked up, and he caught her. 

He was dark fire, He was looking at her the way a caged man would look at freedom, like she was the bright crack of light through prison walls or the sound of the ocean to a land-locked seafarer. She thought he may drag his searing eyes away, as he had done so many times before, but he did not.  He did not even attempt to simmer his gaze. He stared at her with an intent that kissed fire down her spine, she needed relief from it before she smouldered into ash. 

“Excuse me.” She breathed out an apology to guests who were paying her no attention, and with as much silence and grace as she could conjure she swept from the room, feeling the silk of her dress dance along the floor behind her. 

She poured herself through the first door she found. A library. Dimly lit and, thankfully, empty. What a relief, here there were only book bound spells and dusty stories to witness her unravelling. There must have been thousands of books here, and hers was the weakest spine in the room. 

The truth of it was, she was afraid. Something had now changed, and could not be changed back. The group of them still had challenges, battles and decisions ahead. Overdue justice would be delivered and fresh blood spilled, with a high chance that blood would be their own. Losing herself to her feelings for Gale, acting upon her fantasies, spiralling further into loving him would potentially be an act of selfishness and hard-headedness she couldn’t justify. She wasn’t sure if by keeping herself distanced, she had been protecting others or herself. If she let it, that distance would force itself closed, and she did not know what the outcome would be.

But.. his note… The weight of his lettered words were notched in the fragile space behind her eyes, like the forceful pressing of a typewriter on delicate paper. Even if the ink of the confession could somehow be washed away, the shape of it was indented into her. 

She would allow herself a few moments of stillness, in the silence of the library. How odd, she thought as she gazed around. She was in a room with vast, precious knowledge - and none of it really mattered. No piece of paper would ever matter as much as the one which had slipped like a secret under her door. 

A soft creak announced Gale's presence in the doorway. His posture was formal, his expression obscured by the dim, flickering candlelight. All evening he had been unfairly distracting in fitted suit trousers and a crisp white shirt. A smart black bow-tie had once adorned his collar, but the stifling heat of the lingering party had caused it to come undone, and it now hung loose and forgotten. Several buttons on his shirt had been unfastened, offering a glimpse of his chest hair and the bruise-coloured orb beneath. Against his olive skin, the white fabric seemed to deepen his complexion, accentuating his rugged features, and his sleeves were pushed up to reveal the firm muscles of his forearms. So much for her moment of stillness.

“Are you alright?” He moved towards her and she could not retreat from him even if she wanted to. She was against the bookcase at the far end of the room, there was no stepping back from him now. “You seemed… flushed at dinner.”

“Quite alright.” Her tone was more brusk than she intended it to be, more formal than she wanted. 

“I thought maybe Astarion took more from you than was necessary earlier.” His tone suddenly had a sharp bite to it. “My mistake, it appears you are both perfectly satisfied.” 

She did not like his implication. “Did you have a thorough listen? Before you delivered your sordid little letter?” 

There was a beat of silence, and the air shifted, the hard aura of him became soft and panicked. He didn’t say anything, though Tav had the feeling he was reaching for something to clutch at. She didn’t let him get to it. 

“Does it taint your dreams, knowing that he feeds from me? The dreams where you kiss my sweet, wet cunt?” The words were fired with archer's accuracy. She regretted it the moment it was said. “I’m sorry” She was flustered in her apology, “I shouldn’t have..”

“You should never have seen that letter”

“You slipped it under my door?”

“No. I did not.” 

Their breaths were heavy. Anger and tension and built-up frustration crackled through air made of gunpowder.

“So…You did not mean what you wrote?” Gale thought she almost sounded disappointed, and he clutched onto that thought with desperation and fanned it till it burned.

“That’s not what I said.” 

Out of self-consciousness, or awkwardness, or just to find something for her hands to do, Tav fiddled with her hair and moved it back off her shoulders. The innocuous motion allowed Gale full view of those two, small puncture marks. They were still slightly pink, the area around them bruised. He moved forwards, and her breath caught in expectation of being kissed. Instead he stood, jaw tight, brows stern and brushed the bite marks with his thumb, barely touching her. 

“It does not taint my dreams, but it does haunt my days.” His voice was a slip of envy. His thumb stayed at her throat, but his fingers moved to caress her jaw, tilting her head upwards so they were locked in another heated stare. Tav finally understood.

“I am not his. I never have been” she pushed herself up lightly on her toes, until her nose brushed against his and their breaths became each other’s. “I am yours.” 

The match was lit. He pressed himself fully against her and she bumped back against the books with a gasp caught in a blistering kiss. His hands ran along the cool silk and grasped at it in swathes, as all his pent-up need for her came crashing down in the silence of the library. It took all his resolve not to rip it to silken tatters. She gave one sweet, quiet moan against him and he lifted her up, pinning her against the bookcase before slipping a hand between them, to discover she was not wearing underwear. 

“Too hot” She breathed, her words dancing with laughter. 

“I’ll say.” Gale growls, and with a swift, single-handed undoing of his trousers he pushes his hard cock inside her. There is no time for grace, or teasing, or even manners. She is wet enough, and he needs to fuck her. 

They were not silent, their breaths were heavy and Gale swallowed Tav’s soft moans against his tongue, but there were no more words. There would be other times - Gale would make certain of it - where he would pour obscenities into her ear, where he would brand into her every sordid thought he had ever had, and relish teasing primal, guttural sounds from her sweet, parted lips. 

He had fantasised about her in worship and in sin. In silent libraries, in cold cramped tents, or in back rooms of rowdy taverns. He envisioned teasing her relentlessly until she succumbed to shuddering release with just a few deft strokes of his tongue, or seizing her from behind in the secluded alcove of a crowded bar, losing himself in the depths of her until he surrendered to blissful oblivion without even making eye contact. He wanted the burning, consuming intimacy of knowing her in every way a person can be known. In the softness of her body and the sharpness of her mind. In his thoughts he made love to her all day long, and in his reality he was determined to do the same. 

But for now, he could only growl as he fucked her hard against the bookcase of the library, with the muffled sound of chatter and laughter audible from the party next door. 

“Gale..” Her voice was staccato and lust-soaked and as loud as a gunshot amongst the dusty shelves. He put his hand over her mouth to keep her ecstasy contained, and struggled himself not to cry out in pained pleasure when she bit him. The way she was splayed like an open book before him, his hand pressed against her, controlling the flutter of pages, her spine flattening against the bookcase was maddening. In this position, with her pinned by the desperate, aching weight of him and using a foot perched on a rolling ladder and a hand gripped in his hair to anchor herself, he can feel each quiver and shake of lithe muscle. A bowstring pulled tight for too long, threatening to buckle and release. 

This was it, he thought, his reason for living. Not her exactly, not just her, but touch, hope, sweet torture, and succulent moments that would satisfy both the hungry and the starved. Gods, was he starved. Starved and craving to spend the rest of his life full of her. He couldn't thrust himself into her as hard and recklessly as he would have liked, not like this. Her position against the wall relied too much on the press of his hips and chest against her. Instead, he ground and rutted into her, ensuring his pressure hit her in every place she needed it. The silk of her dress caressed her skin, some of it draping between her legs and over where the two of them were connected. It was becoming soaked. Ruined. Just the way he wanted.

She began to ripple, still waters turning to coursing tides. The grip on his hair became tighter, and when she came the fluttering of her tight cunt was enough to force him over the edge with her. 

In the hazy, burnt-out aftermath of passion, hope glowed. Gale never relented in his affection; he wrapped an arm around her waist to gently guide her feet back to the floor. Cupping her flushed cheeks, he bestowed worshipping kisses upon the freckles of her face, trailing down her neck and shoulders with a soft, peaceful touch. The air between them was delicate, mingled with breathy satisfaction. He pressed kisses to her lips, another and another, as she giggled quietly, gently—a sound just as precious and intimate as the ones she had offered when she came against him.

“I love you.” He whispered, and she thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever heard. She said it back, and suddenly the thing that could not be changed was spoken. Bound. Sealed. 

“I was going to give you a letter this evening.” Gale continued with his forehead resting against hers “A different letter. There were two in my pocket, the one you received was just.. erm…”

“Catharsis?” She offered with a smirk.

“Something like that, yes.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a letter. A twin to the one from earlier in all except content. 

Dear Tav, 

Please forgive me for my jealous behaviour. The truth is, I feel rather foolish and light-headed in your presence. Tav, I don’t think I can blame the heat! Will you forgive me? 

Gale

She laughed loudly at the ridiculousness of it, of how polite and genteel his carefully crafted words were. At how he must have scrawled the other letter in pent-up desperation, only to put it aside and instead craft this… feathered, dainty thing. She wasn’t sure which letter she preferred, but she knew they were two sides of a precious coin. The two sides of him. 

“I think we can assume you are forgiven.” For a few more intimate moments, they make the most of the library’s silence.

“Do they think they’re being subtle?” Karlach’s brash voice is suddenly heard from the other room. Despite their illusion being shattered, the sound of her laughter mixed with Gale’s drowned out Tav’s fear. She would embrace change, and him along with it. 

[astarion-approves]

drabble req? :) would love to see some astarion working on comforting or patching up tav/reader — there’s a lot of hurt/comfort in the other direction out there but soft!astarion is so cute :’) love your work btw! <3

Astarion x GN! Reader drabble (695 words)

SFW, Astarion POV, third person POV, Fluff, shitty pep talks (which I am also not great at,) no patching up but it's kinda cute anyway. A touch of jealous Gale

----

“Astarion,” Gale began, the human always tiptoeing around him since the beginning. “Could you…” He shook his head, the man looking unsure with his next words. “Could you check in on Tav?”

Astarion sighed and closed his book, his eyes flicking to the fireplace where Tav sat alone and poked at the fire. “And just why would I do that?”

“Look,” Gale clenched his teeth together, looking over his shoulder to where Tav sat before looking to Astarion once more. “They obviously have feeling for you—“

“Hah! Well that's no surprise. After all, no one can deny my charms—“

“And you obviously have feelings for them.” Gale’s tone was firm, his eyes harsh as he glared back at the vampire, a tint of jealousy swimming beneath it.

Astarion tossed his book into his tent, his arms coming to cross over his chest as he glared right back at Gale. “And so what if I do?!” Now he swung his hands in front of himself, gesturing past Gale and to where Tav still sat. “What the hell do you expect me to do!? Go over there and tell them everything is going to be okay?! That all of the evil in the world will never get to them because I’ll protect them from it?! That these fucking tadpoles in our brains mean no harm and that we’ll all live happily ever after?!”

“Yes,” Gale replied. “That is exactly what I expect you to do.”

Astarion dropped his arms to his sides, pouting at Gale’s answer. He sighed. “Fine!”

Shoving past Gale he made his way to Tav, rubbing his now injured shoulder. He may have overreacted just a tiny bit, but the way Gale stumbled from his shoulder check was worth it.

“Hello, Tav,” Astarion sat down beside them without an invitation.

“Hey.” They gave Astarion a small smile but turned their attention back to the fire.

“I think it’s best if we’re just honest with one another here,” Astarion said with a shrug. “Being friends and all.”

Tav only hummed in reply.

For a moment Astarion let his facade drop. Usually Tav would be eager to chat with him, truly, about anything and everything. To see them pay more attention to the fire than his gorgeous self— something really was wrong.

“What’s wrong, Tav? Tadpole hosting a private party in your skull?”

Tav snorted, another smile gracing Astarion and giving his heart a little flutter knowing that he managed to earn a real smile from them. “Everything?” Tav answered. “Just… everything.”

“Well-“

“And you don’t have to tell me that we’ll live happily ever after.”

“Look at you! Eavesdropping on a private conversation? I’m so proud.”

They didn’t reply this time, just focusing on the flames as they danced in front of them, burning down the pile of wood and sparking as Tav added another log.

“No, things won’t end happily ever after,” Astarion broke the silence as he spoke, his voice soft. “I think that much was obvious the moment we were abducted by fucking mind flayers.”

“Some pep talk—“

“Give me a moment, I’m not accustomed to cheering a person up!”

Tav laughed, but gestured for Astation to continue. “Okay, sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Astarion bumped their arm into Tav’s. “Now, where was I—“

“Happily ever after, or lack thereof.”

“Right, our eventual demise.”

“Astarion—“

“Look, I’m not good at this, clearly. We’re all bound to die some day, but it’s how we spend our days before the end that matters. You can’t give into these feelings of darkness that haunt you, the urge to give up when things get tough. I’m here for you, everyone in this strange camp of weirdos is here for you— and if you’re hurting all you have to do is say something and we’ll do what we can. Shitty pep talks included.”

Tav nodded and tossed their stick into the fire, no longer playing with the flames that beckoned them. “I’m hurting.”

“I know, darling,” Astarion said and put his arm over their shoulder, pulling them closer. “I can’t change the world, all I can do is be here for you… and I hope it’s enough.”

[simpcityy]

My Little Spawn Pt.7 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, violence, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game, mentions of blood, animal death...Uhhh...I think that is all. MAJOR SPOILERS IF YOU AREN'T IN ACT 2 YET.

Author Notes: (PLEASE READ) I hope all of you are excited for this chapter, I know some of you have been waiting for an update. I will be updating more chapters less, I got a new job, so I've been trying to focus on that. Thank you for understanding my lack being online. So, these next chapters will just be mostly fillers to move faster on act 3 so we can get some father battle. So, this chapter and the next might feel empty or rushed because we are on part 7 and we haven't reach act 3 and Cazador hasn't made an appearance yet. I want this series to have at least a maximum of 12 chapters. As always, Thank you so much for the support! I should be updating the master list with all the links of each chapter soon. Remember to Reblog and like if you enjoy this series. I am happy to start a taglist for this series since this week I will be working on a story well two.

Every time they settle down for the night, Astarion would be pacing and complaining how they are wasting time, you could be in danger. “Astation, we need rest for any enemies up ahead” Gale began only to be yelled at by the pale elf. Everyone was on edge with Astarions foul mood keeping their distance from him, even Tav. Tav mostly kept to themselves as Astarion only glared the meanest eyes at them, spewing over and over it’s their fault. “We could've found them already but here you are all lazing around.” He crossed his arms sitting at his tent. “Alright fangs, we get it.” Karlach looks over, carrying over wood on her shoulder. “You are always welcome to go on your own and find them. We are all worried for the little soldier, but we need to be smart about this and not endanger them more” Astarion only looks away and sits alone in his tent missing his little spawn. 

You were running trying to avoid the shadow curse taking over you. You somehow escaped that cell, but it cost the life of a guard. All you could see is their life drained. You felt so bad but yet they tasted so sweet. You vowed yourself not a single word of this to Astarion. You were scared he was going to get mad. You ran over to a fire staying close to it whimpering. Hearing footsteps near you, you quickly crouch behind a large rock and peaked. Hoping whatever is coming near is friendly. “Halt! Who goes there!” A feminine voice calls out. “Come out or arrows would be fired” They threaten. You slowly walk out of your hiding spot. Gasps were heard, “It’s just a child” the woman walks over and smiles ��Are you okay? We won’t hurt you.” She kneels down holding a touch. “I escaped from a big castle…” You whisper, staying close to your rock. “Castle? Moonrise towers.” One of them whispers to their leader. “Come, we have a safe place called the Last Light Inn, you will be safe there. There are children of your age as well.  “She gently took your hand and kept you close. “Harpers lets go before the Shadow Curse gets us.” She commands and walks down a path. 

You felt lost inside this inn. You watched as those same Tieflings from the Grove were playing a quiet game. You slowly walked over “Hi…can I play?” You placed your arms behind your back. They only look at you before going back to their game. You turned around ready to walk back to the chair you were in, but a hand grabbed your arm and spun you back to the Tiefling children. “Hey now, is that how we treat a hero? If I remember correctly, they helped us out back at the Grove.” Mol grins looking back at the children “So I reckon you reconsider their offer.” Once they see Mol, they quickly move over offering you a spot. You smile “Thank you!” You quickly sat on the open spot playing with them. 

Hours passed and you met many people, you caught up with Alfira but you noticed she seemed sad. You also noticed there are a couple of Tieflings missing but didn’t question it. You met Jaheira and Isobel along with many more. You stayed by Mol’s side befriending her. You munched on a piece of bread given by Jaheria when you looked overhearing a commotion. “Stay inside, could be dangerous” Alfira told you two before walking outside. You didn’t mind as you kept eating but hearing a voice you’ve missed so much; you dropped your bread. 

“Astarion!” You yelled running outside tearing up. “Stay back little one!” Jaheira warns as you go outside and slip past her. Astarion looks overhearing his name and swore his dead heart had a heartbeat again when he saw you alive and unharmed. He picked you up quickly and held you close, placing your head into the neck of his shoulder “Oh thank god your alive little spawn” He didn’t care who saw him, he was feeling many emotions. He kissed the top of your head. Mol walks over “They are the ones who saved us, and that is their daddy.” Astarion looks up hearing Mol “I’m just a caretaker” He rolls his eyes. The group can see their spawn companion is back to his normal self. 

After the group minus you, take some herbal medicine that makes you say the truth, you stay near Astarions side. “What have you been up to little Spawn.” He brushes your hair as you sit between the space of his legs. “I was locked up in a castle when I woke up. There were these people and they called me beautiful artwork.” You look up at him. He frowns “So they know about your situation. “He sighs “They aren’t wrong, your kind is an artwork to those who have bad intentions. Usually…you would…” He tries to find the right words “Not be breathing, not even a second you were born. Which explains why there isn’t a high population of little spawns like you, well Dhampirs. “He explains though he knew you weren’t paying attention as you were busy watching a weed flow by the wind. He chuckles to himself as you were easy to get distracted. You got up from your spot and walked over greeting everyone you missed, getting hugs from left to right. You even got a pat on the head from Lae’zel. Nighttime came and you pouted at Astarion “But I don’t want to!” You wiggle around in his arms. You didn’t want to stay in the camp again. “It’s for your own good, it’s too dangerous out there.” He sighs “Tav say something” He motions his eyes over to you. Tav only looks over before looking over to you, “(Y/N) it’s safer for you to stay at camp. You don’t want Astarion to be worried sick again.” They pat your head. You only pout before huffing “Fine” You finally relax in his arm. “And you are never going to leave my side anymore” Astarion placed you over his hip walking to his tent. 

Over the couple of days, you were learning many things about nature thanks to Halsin. You giggle as he shifts out of his bear form. “Again! Again!” You cheered. “Alright alright.” He chuckles trying his best to keep up with your energy. More days went by, and a new temporary companion joined the group, Arabella. It took some time for you to warm up and approach her after Astarion told you to not question anything about her parents. You stood near her and kept silent before she broke the silence “You can talk to me you know; I am nothing like those children from the Grove.” She looks at you. Sitting down next to her, you look at the ground before looking up to Gale who was at his tent giving you the thumbs up. You took a deep breath and looked at Arabella. “Would you like to be my friend?” The Tiefling smiles “Of course. I think I need a friend at this point in my life. “ 

Hours rolled by and Astarion sighs walking back to the camp after successfully being able to get inside moonrise towers and become part of the group for their plan. “You know I can’t wait for when we stab them in the back” He smirks before looking over to see you and Arabella playing catch with Scratch. Scratch gets the ball whenever you fail to catch it and rolls away from you. “Were they able to play with other children over at Cazador’s palace?” Tav walks over to Astarion. The pale elf lets out a small smile seeing how happy you look. “No…Cazador never lets them out of the palace, never thought of it since I thought they were a spawn. Sunlight is our number one enemy after all, but I think this…this is making them feel more connected to their…human side you can say…I haven’t heard them complain about blood hunger. Maybe this distracts them” He hums before walking over “(Y/N), time a bath and do not fight me on this�� He began before seeing you dart off. “Come back here!” He yells Tav only chuckles crossing their arms and lean back a bit watching you slip past Astarions legs and escape every time from his grasp. Everything was slowly going back to where it should, minus the tadpole and mind flayer situation.

[talesofthedm]

QUICK, START TAGGING YOUR ASTATION X TAV FICS ON AO3 WITH TAV 1

For people unaware this is the VA for the Tav 1 voice and he confirmed he reads Astarion x tav fics

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale x Tav Enemies To Lovers Part III

As promised, Part III of the enemies to lovers fic staring our favorite, lusty rizzard and Tav. Tav's POV

Content Warning: Fowl, lewd language

“Yes,” she breathed the word, feeling how her heart flipped and clenched in her chest. Channeling the weave with another wizard was often intimate, sensual even, a practice reserved for close friends or lovers. Had she not been studied in magic, it may have been more innocuous, less frightening - and yet, as she spoke her agreement it was if another entity entirely had possessed her. What was she doing? 

You see, Tav was acutely aware that when she and Gale connected their abilities she would need to have her mental faculties on the highest alert. She needed to ensure her mental defenses didn’t fold so Gale couldn’t explore the depths of her mind. Sparks surged through her followed by a sweeping of goosebumps when she imagined what his intentions might be. The ire in her belly cooled - Gale had been so generous with her over these past few weeks it nearly made Tav forget about their rivalry in youth.

She hadn’t been exposed to that side of him before, a side that was compassionate and nervous, a bit shy and yet bold enough to ask her to share in the deepest type of intimacy. Arguably, channelling the weave in tandem would be tantamount to tantric, soul defying sex. 

Tav saw Gale’s eyes widen and he smiled uncontrollably, it was almost endearing. “Then follow me,” his voice was low, husky, and Tav obliged. 

When they stepped out of his tent most of the party had died down - a few of their companions lingered around the fire, clearly drunk and celebratory. Karlach was threatening to heat up Astarion and Shadowheart seemed to egg them on. Gale and Tav slipped into the darkness, though not before she caught Astation’s eye. She noted the jealousy that flashed across his expression and it confused her, he had been so disinterested when they had sex.

They paused at the brook a few meters from their camp, far enough away to be secluded and close enough to hear their rancorous laughter. 

“Are you absolutely sure this is alright with you?” Gale’s skin seemed to glow in the soft moonlight, his lips dancing at the edges and his eyes gleamed with both curiosity and something Tav didn’t recognize. 

“Yes,” she said, this time a bit sharper. He seemed to note the irritation and stiffened, clearing his throat. 

“Very well. Shall we?” He gazed at her and then Gale began to move his arms through the air in deft, subtle strokes and she followed his lead. Their eyes remained glued to each other. As she mimicked the movements the sudden warmth of the Weave began to pulse through her finger tips, calmly at first and then like a tidal wave it crashed over her. It was the sensuality of a kind word, a soft touch, a lover’s embrace all at once. And then their soft voices mingle as they chanted: “Ah-thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao.” 

There it was. Rapture. The gossamer threads of the Weave enveloped them in a warm cocoon. She felt Gale’s body, his mind, his spirit in ways she had not before - he was letting her in, if only partially. She tilted her head to the side, her lips parting despite the dryness in her mouth - the tension seemed to heighten and the gnawing in her stomach grew until she recognized the feeling - desire. Whether it was Gale or hers she couldn’t be clear. 

Tav gazed into Gale’s eyes and then her eyes dipped to his lips. She realized how full, how soft they looked. This momentary lapse made her defenses lower and she felt Gale within the reaches of her mind, feeling her desire in every fiber of his being. His eyes widened in surprise, his mind shooting with short fire gusts of embarrassment, fear and then elation. Gale stood a bit taller and stumbled over his words, “Sorry… I wasn’t expecting..” His eyes searched Tav’s and she felt the depths of his desire and yearning both shrouded by insecurity. This emotion was a surprise to Tav - Gale was many things and self conscious was not one she anticipated. “But it is a pleasant image to be sure. Most pleasant in fact, most welcome.” Gale nearly breathed out the words and took a step closer to her. 

Tav inhaled although the air didn’t quench her need, the Weave drawing them closer and then there it was - the memory that pulled Tav from the moment and her desire and curiosity was replaced with fury. You see, in that moment where Gale dropped his defenses she saw clearly that he knew her. He remembered. 

The Weave dissipated and shock etched his face, the color draining from it. “Please let me explain…” but Tav wasn’t interested in hearing any more of his explanations. 

“I knew it,” she hissed through gritted teeth beginning to storm back towards the camp. “You’ve known this whole time!” 

“Please, wait a moment!” He interjected, catching up to put a hand on her shoulder. Tav’s body responded with a rush when his hand met her skin and she ignored the thought, too angry. Gale spun her to face him and she glowered, seething as he spoke: “You knew, too. I saw it. You are perfectly capable of sharing the same information and yet, you didn’t. Might I suggest we both had our reasons?” 

The nerve. The fucking audacity. Gale hasn’t changed at all, unable to take accountability for a single godsdamned thing, Tav thought, her blood reaching a boiling point. She stepped towards Gale, pushing a finger against his chest. “You spoke first. What would you have me do? Honestly let’s paint the picture,” she felt her voice rising, her hands beginning to wave in rapid motions that followed her growing frustration, “I pulled you from the portal. You immediately introduce yourself as a,” she grits her teeth and snorts, “wizard of great acclaim and renown and then ask if  we were doctors, clerics, or able to fucking sew. So, in the time you had to say all of that, I wonder if you were in my position you would feel bold enough to say, ‘Actually, you self-important, arrogant bastard we do know one another, no introductions are necessary.’” 

Tav could see that she was goading him, his face reddening and his expression darkened. He stepped closer to her, his hand wrapping around the wrist that pointed against his chest. “I would, actually.” Gale said matter of factly. “I would have told you that I remembered you.” 

Tav scoffed, her face inches from his, “You had that opportunity and missed it.” 

Gale groaned and rolled his eyes before staring into hers, pulling Tav close to him, his voice lower. “I was terrified to tell you. Is that what you want to hear? And then when you said nothing, I assumed that meant you either a. didn’t remember me or b. you were actively choosing to ignore the fact you remembered me, something that, I would like to say for the record, I respected.” 

Tav’s entire body shook and she closed her eyes, seeing red and yet her heart stung when her nervous system cooled enough to recognize what he had said - that he was terrified to tell her. Partially, she noted, probably due to how she was reacting now.

“Assumptions have never helped anyone.” She tapped the place where the orb was on his chest and then let her fingers drag along the pattern on his neck, “You would have thought you learned that lesson.”

Tav stomach’s sunk as soon as the last word fell. She knew it was a low blow. Perhaps the worst thing she could have said to him in that moment. She felt it in his touch, once alive, lighting a fire against her skin now ice cold. She felt him stiffen and his hands dropped to his sides. She gazed into his eyes, seeking forgiveness and was met with an aloof, bottomless stare. One she could never forget. “Gale, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have… that was cruel…” 

“It was cruel.” He said before retreating into his tent. 

It was only then Tav noticed Astarion lingering at the edge of camp. How long had he been there? Had he heard everything? He was leaning against a tree and looking at his nails after he caught her eye. Tav stomped over to him although she was still wracked with guilt. Gale deserved it didn’t he? It dawned on her that perhaps he hadn’t done anything at all other than be himself. She sighed, pushing the thoughts away. 

“A little lovers quarrel?” Asation’s grin was wicked. “My offer still stands,” he cooed, "if you’d like to explore one another’s full portfolio of talents again.” His voice was silken and Tav understood how he was able to lure so many to Cazador. His white hair glowed under the dim stars and she felt her body respond, eager. He took a step towards her and pulled her lip down a bit with his thumb, grasping her neck with one of his hands. “I can think of no better way to relieve all of this frustration you have.”

She glanced into his red eyes and saw the same emptiness, the same disinterest. This time it was of no consequence to her. Tav surrendered to him, their lips meeting in a hungry, slow, almost aggressive kiss. Tav wanted to drown in him, out of space and time itself, if it meant she didn't have to think again.

[thegoblintoadie]

Devotion and Desire

Summary: Briar, a cleric of Malar Tav, doesn't do hand outs. So when she wakes up with Astation looming over her, poised to bite, she feels for his plight but can't just hand over her blood that easily. She really does want to help her new friend though, and this fun little game of cat and mouse proves to be just the way to do that. or- Tav's god forbids giving hand outs so she proposes that Astarion hunt her so she can feed him guilt free. Primal play ensues.

Astarion X Tav ( OFC)

My first foray into writing for BG3 and my first attempt at writing in years but this vampire has rotted my brain to the core.

Read the full here on A03 and see a03 for full tags.

The pounding of her heart may well be the thing that gives her away. A rhythmic beat, so thunderous that she could feel it in her throat. The excitement coursing through her was to be expected- the thrill of the hunt was a sensation that she was all too familiar with, and she would never tire of it. Even though life had seen fit to throw her into an abundance of hunts since the nautiloid, and, in spite of the near constant mortal peril that faced them all daily, it was very rare that she got to indulge quite like this. In fact, she wasn’t sure that she had ever fully indulged this particular desire, there had never been a chance to show such weakness without it coming around to have severe consequences but here she was, finally, well and truly surrendering to being prey.

Well, surrender might be a bit too strong of a term- this little game was her idea after all and the cards where all in her hand when it really mattered. She was the one that set this ball in motion by volunteering to be the hunted, to become the fawn that ducks and dashes from Astarion’s fierce pursuit, but she certainly did not intend to lie down and make it easy for the vampire. After all, the only meal worth indulging in is one that has been well and truly earned and that’s precisely why they were here.

Surprises were abundant in these strange times but rousing from her trance to a body over her, sharp fangs poised and ready to strike at her throat had certainly been a big one. Even in the privacy of her own mind, Briar knew how crazy it sounded that even then she had felt the beginnings of that intoxicating sensation she had so longed for, the forbidden indulgence of feeling like a rabbit before a starved fox.

She should have seen him for what he really was, in hindsight it was all so obvious, his deep red eyes, his flawless alabaster skin, the canines that were more than a little too sharp and prominent. He hadn’t exactly been doing an amazing job of hiding his condition and it was likely only the distraction of the unprecedented circumstances they all found themselves in that no one had noted it so far. He bore a deep-seated scar in the shape of two fang marks nestled along the column of his own slender neck that should have been a dead giveaway and on any normal day she would have discovered his true nature in a heartbeat.

Even caught off guard as she was, it wasn’t hard to read the look in his eyes, clearly, he had expected her to run him through. Perhaps stake him on sight. But the fierce gnawing hunger of a starved monster was a sensation that she was intimately acquainted with and as she gazed into his eyes and found them full of desperation and soul deep aching, she was startled to see something that was too close to a reflection for comfort.

Living so closely in tune with the wilds, Briar knew that life was full of countless calls from all directions. Desire and need were restless companions and if one were to succeed in life, you had to learn when to act and when to stay your hand. Mastering your desires was as important as embracing them- but when your nature calls to you, ravenously empty and screaming, you have no choice but to obey.

Gazing upon his chastened face, it had felt like the cruellest punishment to reprimand him. To watch the most genuine emotions she had ever seen grace his handsome face entirely spring from the fount of sorrow. Still, her lord forbade pity upon the weak. Survival of the fittest was her creed and snatching up a forbidden drink in the dead of night, whilst your prey lay sleeping, was hardly proof of your hunting prowess. If Astarion could only win his meal by subterfuge, Malar’s teachings would have her state that he did not deserve to eat at all.

She felt these urges every now and then, the desire to give in and take pity on those who were so clearly in need. A whole life spent trying to please Malar, to prove herself as devout as any other in her village, and a whole life spent pretending that a hollow, cavernous pit didn’t open up inside her gut and threaten to swallow her as she ignored the pleading glances of the hungry and needy.

The discomfort bought on by these urges to be weak were familiar by now, she had suppressed them before, and she would continue to do so. It did not matter how much her heart ached to see the raw and honest starvation within her companions’ eyes. To see the hunger that she knew all too well and refuse to help when it would be all too easy. She knew the laws she must abide by, and Malar must not be displeased, her powers depended upon it.

Malar must not be displeased and perhaps he need not be- she had always been an innovator. Those forbidden desires sprung to the forefront of her mind again as she remembered the ravenous way Astarion had been looking at her in the split second before he had realised that she had awakened, and she felt a spark of warmth in her centre. Perhaps there was a way that they could leave this situation under more desirable circumstances.

When she had suggested that Astarion hunt her if he truly expected to taste her blood, the vampire had been dumbfounded and furious. Clearly, he had taken her offer in jest, perhaps thinking that she was mocking his monstrous nature, but she had doubled down on stating her intent. Affirming that any hunter worth their salt should catch their meal, not shamefully steal it away whilst their prey lay sleeping.

She could tell by the look on his face that he still didn’t quite believe her, but his doubt was faltering, and he had regained enough composure to slip back into his familiar rakish mask.

Then he had become confident, cocky. Briar had put a lot of work into concealing the nature of her worship and the nature of her own inner beast, from the rest of her motley crew and although at times, as friendships blossomed and grew amongst them all, this had been a contributor to her sizable mountain of guilt, in this case it had given her an advantage.

Astarion believed that he had seen her full skillset in battle, she was a cleric after all, a little more savage than most of the other clerics he knew when it came to finishing off enemies, but that was no matter of concern. She would still be no match for a vampire with over 200 years of experience, right?

Briar smiled to herself in the darkness, she hoped this confidence would be his downfall. She still had plenty of tricks up her sleeve and her winning hand had been held closely to her chest. The distant snapping of a twig jolted her from her reminiscence. She was confident that the sound had not come from Astarion, the rogue would never be clumsy enough to make such a simple hunting mistake, but it reminded her to refocus on the task at hand. Eluding her hunter.