#bg3 tav

[rokonrrc2]

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Cyrene, Wizard & Certified Camp Therapist

[vetochkarowan]

moderbat: a mistletoe

[pierrotsartdump]

Fanart for you king

I hand it over like a crown to @meanbossart

[skelvron-keiman]

" I want it to be perfect "

last commission Im so proud of how it turns out 😭💘

[catterrificposts]

Tav when they meet Us at the beginning of Baldur’s Gate 3

extremely evocative textbook diagram

[kekeandherrpgs]

Tav with her usual suspects

[lilliesinwaterdeep]

You know my weakness?

Fics that take place after in game events. I want to know what the author’s hc’s are for life after the netherbrain.

What happens to Tav and Karach in Avernus?

What kind of adventures do Tav and Astarion go on in the night/underdark?

Does Tav help Wyll rebuild Baldurs Gate? Or does the couple go to avernus with Karlach?

How does Tav adjust to life with Gale in Waterdeep?

What does Rolan and Tav’s lives look like in Ramazith’s tower?

I WANT TO READ IT ALLLLLLLLL

😭😭😭

[adharaphoenix]

my sfw entry for the BG3 Winter Gala in twitter/bluesky, aka ain't no party like an underdark party (there's mushrooms in the walls but we having fun)

[tragedysorbet]

It's been a long couple of months. I think it's time to remind everyone Mal's pretty

[msrhaxoz]

,,,,,, uh

[nesvann]

Moment before disaster,

Astarion sure had no idea he'd end up under the rubble...

[dez78]

Astarion's Confession

-----------------------------

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Pairings: Astarion x Fem! Elf Tav

Warnings: Vulnerability

Additional Tags: Astarion is vulnerable, Astarion angst to fluff, hurt to comfort, friends to lovers

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(Not my gif)

You stood in the dim light, your eyes softening as you listened to Astarion’s confession. The mask he so often wore had slipped, revealing the raw pain beneath. His voice, typically laced with sarcasm and wit, trembled as he spoke of the horrors he’d endured as a vampire spawn, of the helplessness he felt, and the countless years spent in torment.

Your heart ached for him, for the man who so rarely allowed himself to be vulnerable, and yet here he was, exposed, as fragile as anyone else. Without thinking, you took a step forward. Astarion’s gaze met yours, and for the first time, there was no trace of his usual arrogance, only the haunting weariness of a soul burdened by the past. Gently, you extended your arms, pulling him into a warm embrace. He tensed for a moment, as though unsure how to react, before he melted into you, his breath shallow against your shoulder.

The quiet between you was comforting, a shared moment of understanding without words. You could feel the tremors in his body, the weight of his sorrow. You held him tighter, offering him the solace he so desperately needed but had never asked for.

When you finally pulled away, Astarion’s hands lingered on your arms, reluctant to let go. His eyes, normally sharp and calculating, were soft, the silvery strands of his hair falling across his forehead.

"Don’t go," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not yet. Just... a little longer, please."

Your heart fluttered at the quiet plea. You could see the vulnerability in him—so raw, so real—and it pulled at something deep within you. With a tender smile, you wrapped your arms around him once more, letting him hold onto you as long as he needed.

For once, there were no masks. Just two souls, quietly offering comfort to one another in the stillness of the night. As you held him, you could feel the subtle tension in Astarion’s body begin to dissipate, his movements gradually becoming less restrained.

It was as though your embrace had stripped away every last layer of the armor he’d worn for centuries. And then, without warning, his breath hitched. A soft sob escaped his lips, barely audible, but it shattered the quiet. You froze, your heart skipping a beat. You had never seen him like this—not once. The sharp, perfect exterior he so carefully maintained was gone, and in its place, there was only the broken man he had kept hidden from the world.

Astarion’s body shook as the sobs came faster, uncontrollable, ragged. His hands gripped you tightly, as though you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the present, the only thing grounding him in a reality where he could finally let go.

Your breath caught in your throat. You had seen him laugh, flirt, and even fight with the ferocity of a predator, but this... this was something entirely different. You had never seen Astarion cry, not even close. His vulnerability in this moment took you completely by surprise, and your mind struggled to process it.

His forehead pressed against your shoulder, his tears soaking into your tunic, but you held him steady, not daring to move, not daring to break the fragile moment. You could feel the warmth of his tears against your skin, and the quietness of his sobs echoed through your chest like a silent drumbeat, painful yet real.

Your hands, which had once been so sure, were trembling as you gently stroked his back, offering what little comfort you could. It was instinctual, but you didn’t know how to handle this—how to respond to this side of him, this raw and exposed Astarion who no longer seemed the distant, untouchable creature he often portrayed.

"You don’t have to be strong all the time," You whispered softly, your voice trembling as well, though you didn’t fully understand why. Perhaps it was the deep ache in his cries, or the way he had let you see the person he truly was beneath all the shields he had built over the years.

Astarion’s breath hitched again, and his grip tightened as he let out one final, shuddering sob, his voice breaking as he spoke.

"I... I’ve never... never let anyone in. I didn’t know... if I could. I didn’t know... if I was allowed to."

Your chest tightened at his words, and you pulled him in closer, if that was even possible. You didn’t say anything more. There were no words that could heal what he had been through. But this—holding him like this—was all you could give him now.

As the minutes passed, his sobs eventually softened, though the tears didn’t stop. When they finally pulled apart, his eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks streaked with tears. He was still the same Astarion, yet he was so different. You saw him now—not as the charming, confident rogue, but as a man who had been broken by the world and was learning, for the first time, that he didn’t have to carry that burden alone.

You touched his face gently, brushing away the tear stains with your fingers, a quiet tenderness in your touch that spoke more than words ever could. And in that moment, you realized how much you had underestimated him—how much of his strength came from enduring, not from hiding.

"You don’t have to do this alone anymore, Astarion," you said quietly, your voice steady, despite the emotions swirling within you. "I’m here."

And for once, Astarion didn’t push you away. Instead, he allowed himself to be vulnerable with you, allowing you to see the man who had always hidden in the shadows. And perhaps, for the first time in centuries, Astarion felt as though he could truly breathe again.

The silence that followed Astarion’s emotional outburst felt heavy, yet there was a strange sense of closeness between you now, an unspoken understanding that had never existed before. Astarion stood there, his shoulders still trembling, his eyes flickering with uncertainty as if unsure how to proceed. His usual deflection of vulnerability, the mask he wore so effortlessly, was shattered.

Finally, his voice broke the quiet, almost hesitant, a stark contrast to the confident tone he usually held.

"Y/N..." He paused, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it before.

"Would you... would you stay with me tonight? In my tent, I mean." His eyes met yours, full of a quiet, almost desperate need. "I... I don’t want to be alone right now."

You felt your heart skip a beat at the request. It was more than just an invitation—it was a plea, a crack in the fortress he’d so carefully built. For a moment, you simply stood there, unsure of what to say. You had never seen Astarion this raw, this unguarded. He was asking for comfort in a way you never thought he would, and in that moment, you realized how much he needed it.

You nodded and said, "Of course. I’ll stay."

The warmth in his eyes, though fleeting, was enough to reassure you that your presence was more of a comfort than you'd anticipated. You made your way to his tent, a quiet tension lingering between you, but one that was no longer entirely uncomfortable.

-------------------------------------------------

Once inside the tent, Astarion moved toward his bedroll, his movements slow and tentative, as though every step was weighed with uncertainty. You followed, your heart aching for him as you watched him struggle with his own feelings. You set your belongings aside, then sat down beside him, your voice gentle yet firm as you spoke.

"You don’t have to pretend anymore, Astarion," you said softly. "I’m here. You don’t have to carry everything on your own."

Astarion didn’t respond immediately, his gaze drifting to the floor. But after a long, drawn-out breath, he finally let himself sit, and his body seemed to deflate, as though every ounce of strength had left him in the wake of his confession. He moved onto his side, curling into himself like a frightened child, facing you.

You watched him for a moment, your heart swelling with empathy and tenderness. You lay beside him, reaching out to gently pull him closer, wrapping your arms around him in a silent offer of protection.

At first, Astarion stiffened, his body rigid, as though he was unsure of how to accept such intimacy. But then, after a long, trembling pause, he let out a quiet sigh and let himself relax into your embrace. He curled further into you, his head resting against your chest, his body trembling slightly as he sought comfort.

You held him without hesitation, letting your warmth and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat soothe him. Your fingers traced gentle circles along his back, as if trying to erase the centuries of pain he had carried with him. He was so different now, so fragile in your arms, that it almost felt like a dream.

Astarion’s breath was shallow at first, but as the minutes stretched on, it deepened. His body, which had been tense and guarded for so long, gradually relaxed. You could feel him letting go, his muscles loosening, his breath evening out, and the rhythm of his movements slowly matching your own.

But what surprised you most was how tightly he clung to you. His arms were wrapped around your arm, his fingers digging into your skin as if afraid you might disappear. His face pressed deeper into you, his body instinctively seeking more of the comfort you offered.

For a long time, you lay there, his face pressed to your chest, your arms wrapped around him like a shield. Astarion didn’t speak, but the soft sound of his breathing told you everything you needed to know—he was allowing himself to be held, to be loved, in a way he hadn’t let anyone do for centuries.

---------------------------

As the night wore on, you could feel his body gradually relax further, and eventually, his grip loosened slightly. Still, he remained curled into you, a quiet, vulnerable presence in your arms. He had let you in, and for the first time, you understood the full extent of the man beneath the smirk, beneath the walls he had so carefully constructed.

You held him through the night, offering him the one thing he had craved for so long: a safe place to rest, a moment where he didn’t have to be anything other than what he was—a man who had suffered and, for once, didn’t have to face it alone.

And as he finally drifted off to sleep, his body curled into yours like a fragile, broken thing, you stayed close, your heart quietly aching for him. You didn’t know what the future held for them, but in that moment, you knew one thing for sure—you wouldn’t leave him, not now, not ever.

--------------------------------------------

The first thing Astarion felt when he woke up was warmth—soft, steady, and comforting. It took him a moment to realize where he was, and even longer to comprehend the weight of the situation. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, his face pressed gently against your, his body still half-curled into yours. The sensation of your breath on his skin, the subtle rise and fall of your chest, reminded him of the deep connection you had shared through the night.

His heart stilled for a moment, uncertainty creeping into his thoughts. He had never allowed anyone to get this close, never let down his guard so completely. But now, as he lay there with you, his body unconsciously molded into yours, a strange sense of peace settled over him.

Then, he noticed something that made his breath catch.

As his gaze shifted, he saw your arm, resting across the bedroll, and his eyes widened. There were dark purple bruises scattered across your skin—faint but noticeable. His heart dropped in his chest as he realized the bruises had formed where he had gripped you so tightly in his sleep. His hand had held yours as though you were the only thing anchoring him to reality, and now, seeing the evidence of his desperation, guilt gnawed at him.

Astarion slowly shifted, carefully unwrapping himself from your arms, though the instinct to hold you close was strong. He winced at the sight of the bruises. His heart tightened as he gently touched the marks on your arm, his fingertips grazing over the tender skin with a soft, apologetic motion.

"Y/N..." His voice was low, soft, almost unrecognizable to his own ears. "I’m so sorry."

He watched you closely, but you didn’t stir, your breathing steady and calm. It seemed you hadn’t woken up yet. His gaze moved to your face, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe. You were meditating, your posture serene, and your face as peaceful as the stillness around them. There was a quiet strength in your expression, something he hadn’t expected to see after such an emotionally charged night.

Astarion’s chest ached. It wasn’t just the guilt over your bruises—it was the realization of how much you had given him, how much you had allowed him to lean on you when he was at his lowest. The fact that you hadn’t pulled away, hadn’t recoiled from his touch even when he held you so tightly, was nothing short of a miracle. His usual cynicism and self-preservation had never prepared him for something like this.

He swallowed hard, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he slowly drew it away, not wanting to cause you any further discomfort. But the guilt remained, festering deep within him. He leaned back slightly, watching her as you continued your meditation.

When you finally opened your eyes, the world around them seemed to shift—there was a quiet understanding between you two, one that was built from your shared vulnerability. He expected you to react, perhaps to say something about the bruises, to admonish him for being so careless in his sleep. But instead, you simply smiled softly, as if knowing exactly what he was feeling.

"You held me like I was the last thing that mattered," you said, your voice quiet but filled with warmth. "I understand, Astarion. It’s okay."

Your words washed over him, and his breath caught in his throat. He had expected you to be angry, to pull away, but instead, you offered him reassurance, as if his actions hadn’t hurt you at all. The fact that you weren’t upset, wasn’t repelled by his need for your presence, only deepened the confusion and gratitude swirling within him.

"I didn’t mean to hurt you," he muttered, his voice rough. "I... I couldn’t control myself. I’ve never been like this before, not with anyone."

"I know," You replied, your voice filled with an understanding that went deeper than any words could express. "I know you didn’t mean it."

Astarion couldn’t help the tightness in his chest as he looked at you. The tenderness of your response, your quiet forgiveness, made something in him shift—a crack in the wall he had spent so long building around his heart. He had always been so used to being alone, to never relying on anyone. But You... You made him feel like maybe it was possible to trust someone again, to let someone in without fear of them abandoning him or taking advantage of his weakness.

Without thinking, he reached out, gently cupping your cheek in his hand. You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into his touch, your eyes closing for a moment as if savoring the rare tenderness he offered.

"I’m sorry," he said again, this time with a quiet finality. "And thank you—for being here. For letting me hold you like that."

You opened your eyes, and there was something in them—something soft, but also resolute. You reached up, placing your hand over his, holding it there as if to say that you were here, that you would always be here.

"You never have to apologize for needing someone, Astarion," you whispered, you voice calm but powerful. "I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever."

Astarion’s heart fluttered in his chest, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he allowed himself to believe it.

You smiled softly as you sat up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. The morning sun filtering through the tent, casting a warm glow over the quiet scene. You turned to Astarion, your gaze filled with affection and without a word, you leaned toward him.

Astarion's breath caught in his throat, despite not needing to breathe as your lips neared. His body tensing in anticipation, every nerve in him drawn to you in that fleeting moment. The sensation of your closeness, the steady rhythm of your breath, had him spellbound.

As your lips brushed his skin, his mind barely registered the softness of your kiss, but the feeling was so tender, so full of promise, but then as quickly as it had begun, the kiss was over.

Astarion blinked, his eyes wide with surprise. He had felt the delicate brush of your lips against his cheek, yet he had expected a kiss on the lips. For a moment, he was stunned, disoriented by the rush of emotions he had felt and the sudden emptiness that followed.

The confusion was brief, but sharp- he hadn't realized how badly he had wanted your kiss to linger on his lips. How much he had craved it, deep down, despite his constant battle with the walls he had built around himself.

He sat up slightly, staring at you as you moved to rise from the bedroll. His hand twitched at his side, an impulse to reach for you, to pull you back.

"Y/N." He said softly, your name almost a whisper on his lips, but it held an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken.

"Why the cheek?" His voice was venerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be, and for the briefest moment, it seemed as though his usual composure faltered. His gaze lingered on your lips, unable to hide the disappointment that had unexpectedly blossomed in his chest.

It wasn't just the kiss- it was the sting of wanting something more, of feeling something for someone he wasn't sure he was ready for. You paused, your expression softening as you turned to face him.

"Astarion...it wasn't the right time." You murmured, your voice gentle, but firm.

"You need to know that I'm here for you, and I don't want to rush anything." You explained softly, cupping his face with a tenderness he wasn't yet used to.

Astarion's emotions were a tangled mess of confusion and yearning. He wanted more. He needed more. The distance between you- the space left unfilled by your kiss- was unbearable.

He had let his guard down for you, trusted you with something raw and vulnerable, and now he felt the gap between you widening, even if just by a hair. He couldn't let you slip away from him, not now, not after all they had shared.

You got up to leave again, standing up.

Before he could think any longer, the impulse took over. He shot forward, grabbing your wrist with a desperate urgency, he stood with you, still holding your wrist. He pulled you towards him.

"Don't go." He breathed, his voice tight with need, with longing. Your eyes widened with surprise, but before you could say anything, Astarion's lips were on yours, hungry, desperate, and full of something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a very long time.

He kissed you as if he were starved for it, the restraint he had kept up for so long finally breaking free in a rush of heat and emotion. His hand slid to the back your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, urging you to meet him with equal fervor.

The kiss was frantic at first- his lips pressing hard against yours as if to prove something to himself, to prove that he wasn't as broken as he felt. His hands trembling with intensity of his desire.

When he finally pulled back, his breath came in uneven gasps, and his eyes were filled with a mixture of longing and something else-something vulnerable.

"Do you understand now?" Astarion whispered, his voice low and hoarse. His hands roamed over your arms, as if needing to ground himself in the sensation of your touch.

"I can't stand the thought of you leaving me like this. Not when I-" He stopped himself, suddenly aware of the words that nearly slipped out. His chest tightened, a mix of fear and something more tender swirling within him. He swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure.

Your gaze softened again as you cupped his face, your fingers gentle against his skin.

"Astarion, I'm not going anywhere." You reassured him,

"But you have to understand, this isn't about rushing. It's about trusting each other, letting it unfold as it should."

He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath, and for the first time, he let his guard fall completely.

"I don't know how to do that." He admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But I want to learn. With you."

You leaned in again, this time pressing a soft kiss to his lips- a kiss filled with promise, filled with patience.

When you pulled back, you smiled softly, as though you knew exactly what he needed. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Astarion believed that maybe, just maybe, he could let himself have it.

[vetochkarowan]

modernbat: an oxymoron

[robogart]

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