#dark!karlach x tav

[moonselune]

Hi!!!! I was wondering if we can have some dark BG3 but with Karlach.. if you can because ohhhhh I love your stuff for her literally every time I read it I fall in love THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING BTW

Ah thank you so much !

oooo okay y'all I'm writing this as a one shot, she's not being added to the list (for now), I will most likely add her when I'm adding the cambions which will be when requests are finished. This is gonna be set when she takes control of the nether brain.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!Karlach x reader | Blood-drenched Sunset

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The infernal glow of Avernus spread before you like a sick parody of a sunset, blood-red skies choked with smoke and ash. The smell of brimstone clung to everything, a constant reminder of where you were and what you had become a part of. Karlach stood at the edge of a jagged cliff overlooking the battlefield below, her fiery mane whipping in the hot wind. Imps and cambions swarmed around her like moths drawn to a flame, eager to do her bidding.

You watched her, your heart aching. This wasn’t the Karlach you had fallen in love with—the one who had fought so fiercely for others, who had carried a blazing heart of courage and compassion. But you understood how she had come to this. Her pain, her rage, her betrayal by the people of Baldur’s Gate—it all made sense. And that was what hurt the most. You understood her too well.

When she turned to you, her eyes were wild with fury and determination, but there was something else buried deep within them. Something you could barely see but refused to give up on.

“They’ll all pay,” she growled, her voice like a low rumble of thunder. “Every last one of Zariel’s lapdogs. Just like those cowards in Baldur’s Gate who let Gortash rise to power. They’ll all burn.”

You stepped forward, hands trembling but held open in a gesture of peace. You were covered in ash, grime and splatters of blood that belonged to those you called friend.

“Karlach,” you began softly, but your voice broke under the weight of what you were about to say. “You were one of Zariel’s servants once. Remember? There are people down there—innocents, just like you were.”

Her expression twisted, her lips curling into a bitter smile.

“Don’t,” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut as she pointed her index finger at you. “Don’t you dare compare me to them. I escaped. I broke free. They don’t deserve your pity, and they sure as hell don’t deserve mine.”

You reached out a trembling hand toward her, desperation thick in your voice. “Please, Karlach. This isn’t who you are. You’re better than this—better than all of this. Be fair, give them a chance. Don’t let this place consume what’s left of your humanity.”

For a moment, you thought you saw her flinch, the barest flicker of hesitation crossing her face. But then her expression hardened, and she let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” she said, stepping closer to you, her towering form casting a shadow over your trembling figure. “You’re trying to control me. Hold me back. You’re lucky I love you, babe! So damn lucky!”

She snapped her fingers, and before you could react, two cambions stepped out of the shadows, their claws digging into your arms as they grabbed hold of you. You struggled and cried out, but their grip was ironclad.

Karlach grinned, the flames dancing around her face making her look almost demonic. She sauntered up to you, cupping your cheek with a hand that burned hot against your skin.

“Don’t worry,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock affection. “I want you to see everything. Front row seat, just for you.�� She turned to the cambions, giving them a wink. “Make sure they don’t miss a thing.”

The cambions dragged you toward the edge of the cliff, forcing you to kneel as Karlach strode back toward the battlefield below. Her war cry echoed across the hellish plains, and her army of imps and demons surged forward with savage glee.

Tears streamed down your face as you watched the carnage unfold, helpless to do anything but plead silently with the woman you loved—the woman you knew was still in there somewhere. You whispered her name, over and over again, a prayer against the storm.

Somewhere in the chaos, you thought you saw her pause. Just for a moment. A flicker of something human—a memory, perhaps, or a feeling she couldn’t quite extinguish. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep your hope alive.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

y'all how dare you force me to do that to my baby girl.. jk jk i can't lie making her evil was very fun. I hope you guys enjoyed these dark karlach scraps, i think there is another dark karlach request in the queue so y'all will be fed again at some point - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[taygra5shaon]

the end of the

SHADOW OF DURGE

so, this is a bonus scene of SHADOW OF DURGE that I had in my head for a while.

this is the end of the shadow of Durge, and his final goodbye to one of the most important person he had in his past.

it took me a bit to do it, but I'm quite happy how it look like^^

tell me what you think!

[oh-yeah-i-exist]

Attending Grand Duke Wyll Ravengard's Inauguration Gala (Part 1 here)

[thechaoticdruid]

AsTaRiOn Is A sUbBy BoTtOm

Hmmm......I don't believe you.

This man is always trying to pin me down.

[gayestcowboy]

they deserve to be happy forever

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

When Gods Listen

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x female!Durge/reader

Summary: Astarion is hit by a memory spell mid-combat. You fear what will happen to him, but Astarion only knows he woke with the answer to his prayers looking down at him.

Word Count: 6,162 words

Warnings: post Astarion's first romance scene, descriptions of battle, Astarion's past, typical Durge thoughts, temporary memory loss, temporary amnesia, Gale being helpful, vampire feeding, a cliche 'oh. oh.' moment, kissing, unspoken confession

Note: Reader is based on my drow half-ef Durge, Nixu, but remains from the second-person perspective with only brief & vague mention of her appearance. My first time writing Durge (resisting), so let me know what you think!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

How long had you been fighting? Ten minutes? An hour? Gods, you didn't know. You couldn't focus on anything other than the weapon in your hand, the number of arrows in your quiver, and the spells you had prepared. Letting your focus stray to your companions had already cost you, proven by the blood running down your arm and the claws that had torn your pants to shreds.

Need new armor, you thought as you slammed a dagger into a goblin's throat. The creature gurgled and clawed at your hands, leaving behind red scratches, until you yanked out the blade. The goblin fell to the blood-soaked ground with a wet thud.

Shadowheart screamed behind you. You heard the snarl of a wolf and turned to find one lunging for her, the cleric frozen in fear. You reached for your bow; Gale was faster, sending a Fire Bolt at the wolf. It snarled and turned on Gale.

You strung an arrow to your bow. You had four left, including this one. Your shot would have to be incredibly precise if you didn't want to get any closer to the wolf; you didn't have enough arrows for do-overs.

Taking aim, you drew back your string, taking a deep breath. Easy does it, you told yourself.

The wolf's body tensed. It sat back on its haunches, ready to lunge for Gale. He was in the middle of preparing a spell; it wouldn't be ready by the time the wolf's jaws were around his throat.

An arrow flew directly into the wolf's jugular. You blinked. Had you loosed your arrow? No. It remained in your fingers, notched to your bowstring.

Your eyes sought out the arrow's source and landed on a pair of red eyes creeping out of the shadows. Astarion slipped out of hiding, his face stony. He held his own bow. He stared down the wolf until it collapsed with a pitiful whine.

Both Gale and Shadowheart turned to other enemies, knives flashing and spells meeting their targets.

There was a horrid howl from somewhere on the battlefield. You whirled toward the sound and found an irate human hurrying down the rocky hill. You guessed the howl had been the wolf's name, then, and this was its owner.

"Astarion!" you shouted. "Behind you!" You pointed in the direction of the approaching human—a wizard, by the looks of her.

Astarion turned and dropped into a crouch. She began summoning a spell; you recognized it as a memory spell. Temporary, but all-encompassing. Before Astarion could hide, the spell hit him square in the chest.

Dread coiled in your stomach. Astarion stumbled backwards, a hand coming to touch his chest. Then his body went rigid. You weren't close enough to see it, but you knew his eyes had glazed over.

Astarion glanced around, clearly confused as to how he had ended up in a battle.

"Shit," you muttered.

He'd be easy to kill in this state, you thought. All too easy to stab in the brain and watch the blood run into his eyes. Ugly desire curled through your stomach, a desperate need to gut him from the inside out settling in your chest.

You blinked and the urge was gone. You glanced around you, expecting your butler, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Gods, why can't the urges be something simple, like wanting him whimpering beneath me again?

You started toward Astarion. Goblins swarmed you. You cast a poison spray across them and cut them down as quickly as you could. You looked up to find the wizard whispering in Astarion's ear. He turned toward Gale and Shadowheart, expressed pulled into confusion.

A goblin clawed at you, trying to climb your legs. You shook it off and slammed your knee into its face. You looked up again and found Astarion with an arrow pointed at Shadowheart's back. You shouted a warning.

"What the hells is he doing?!" she shouted.

Gale frowned at Astarion. "Amnesia," he said. "She messed with his memory."

All eyes widened in horror as the woman gave Astarion an order: "Kill." He loosed his arrow and Shadowheart just narrowly dodged it. Astarion readied another.

"He's under her command," Gale said.

You jumped to a higher vantage point. "Can we stop the spell?"

"Not the memory spell, that will take time to fade," he reasoned, "but if we kill her, she can't command him to kill us."

"Great," you said. "Now I have a plan."

The wizard shrieked with laughter. She turned around, her hands spread, a sneer on her face. "You'll never kill me," she snarled. "I'm far more powerful than—"

She fell with a thud, your arrow buried in her heart. You jumped to the ground and looked down at her where she lay, gurgling and glaring at you. You cocked your head. "You should know better than to expose yourself to attack, wizard. Now I will make your head a statement piece."

Without thinking, you drew your knife. Yet you froze when you heard Gale give a shout. You looked up and found an arrow—one of Astarion's—in his shoulder. The wizard could make no more orders, but her last command was still standing. He was still attacking the others.

"No time for that now," you said to the corpse. You left it where it lay and ran toward Astarion. As you got closer, you realized he looked incredibly confused about having shot Gale.

Gravel crunched under your feet, sliding out from underneath you. You slipped to a halt in front of him. "Astarion? You okay?"

He flinched as your hand came to rest on his shoulder. He shrugged off your touch. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"I'm..." The words died on your lips. What were the two of you? Gods knew there wasn't really a label for whatever it was the two of you had. Would he even believe it if you tried to explain it, while the memory spell lasted? "I'm your friend. We met on the road. We stuck together with Gale and Shadowheart here and the others back at camp to get rid of the tadpoles."

Astarion looked at you, studying you with a gaze as guarded as it had been when you'd first met him. "I don't..."

"You've been hit by a memory spell, a very powerful one," you told him, resisting the urge to grab his hand. "It's given you temporary amnesia."

"Why are we fighting?" he rasped. "I... I don't know who to... She told me to fight you." He glanced back at the body. He seemed to be panicking a little now. "But then you killed her and now I... I don't want to kill you anymore."

"You don't have to," you promised. "You don't have kill us, Astarion, we're your friends."

"No, not them," he said. "Just you."

He raised his bow, an arrow already prepared and aimed for Gale's heart. You grabbed the bow, wrenching it from his hands and throwing it to the ground. He growled, deep and animalistic. His eyes flashed a brighter red and his lip pulled back from his fangs. They dripped with saliva.

Such a pretty monster, you thought. It will be a shame to rip out his heart.

But you didn't follow your urge. Instead, you slammed the pommel of your dagger into the side of his head. His eyes rolled back into his head and he crumpled to the ground.

Gale shouted at you, utterly horrified. "What was that for?"

"He was going to kill you," you said. "I don't think there's anything we could have said that would stop him." You glared across the battlefield. "Let's deal with the rest of this and get him back to camp."

Shadowheart yanked the arrow out of Gale's shoulder and healed him quickly. You watched his skin knit back together with a strange fascination that tingled beneath your own skin, like you'd felt it before...

The rest of the goblins and wolves felt like they took no time at all. You were aware, of course, that your sense of time was disrupted by your worry; every so often, you cast a look toward Astarion's crumpled body, passed out but corpse-like for his lack of breathing. A discomforting desire shuddered through you at the sight.

He is my friend, you told the need in your gut that told you to kill him twice over. He trusts me. I will not hurt him.

Yet you weren't so sure you could trust yourself to keep that promise.

When enemies finally stopped swarming, you went back to the wizard's corpse. You dug through her pockets for anything useful. You found several amulets imbued with powerful magic and plenty of scrolls. You took her weapons without much thought; you could inspect them later, but you had more important matters to begin with.

"Is he alright?" Gale asked as you knelt beside Astarion.

"He should be," you said. "I didn't hit him that hard."

"Something tells me he won't be too pleased about that when he wakes up," Shadowheart said.

"If he remembers it, that is," Gale said. The wizard sounded the most worried you'd ever heard him. "That was a powerful memory adjustment spell."

You frowned. "It is temporary, isn't it?"

"I certainly hope so. For his sake and for ours," Gale replied. "Here. Let's get him back to camp. It's too dangerous to continue on with him like this."

Gale cast a levitation spell and Astarion's body rose. His face was obscenely peaceful and it dawned on you just how tortured he usually looked when he tranced. You cocked your head, wondering just how deep that memory spell was going.

A hand fell on your arm. "Is everything alright?" Shadowheart asked.

"I'm fine," you said. "Just thinking." You cleared your throat, tearing your eyes away from Astarion's slack face. "Come on. We've got a lot of ground to cover, and not a lot of daylight left."

~❊~

Astarion felt like he was...swimming? Maybe. Everything was fuzzy. His mind felt bizarrely empty and way too full at the same time. He saw nothing through his heavy, closed eyelids. Try as he might, he couldn't get them to open.

A sense of urgency was sitting in his chest. He had something to do, didn't he? He'd been...

The feeling of whatever it was, of holding something light and curved, of pulling his arm back and letting go, disappeared back into the murk.

Frustration bloomed in Astarion's mind. What was going on? Was this a trick of Cazador's?

Oh, there! That was...something. A person? Yes, an unpleasant person. Someone he was rather upset to have remembered, even if it meant at least there was something in this useless head of his.

A vile taste filled Astarion's mouth, like rat's blood and salty bodily fluids. Somehow, Astarion knew it was because of the person he despised so completely. Yet how?

Sudden hunger curled through Astarion's stomach. He groaned, clutching at his stomach. I have to hunt, he thought, but he still couldn't get his eyes open. Trying only pushed him further into the thick, liquid blackness that surrounded him.

Help, Astarion tried to say. His mouth remained closed. Someone help, someone get me out of here. Gods, please, get me out!

The silence of his mind answered him.

Astarion whimpered, curling into a ball. I'm so hungry, Master, he whined, but only one rough word came out, nearly lost in his throat. Once again, he was dragged back into darkness.

~❊~

"Astarion's not doing so hot."

Karlach's voice roused you from the thoughts swimming in your head. You sat back on your haunches, somewhat surprised to see the weapons you'd been sorting through from today's battles still in front of you in a heap. Had you gotten so lost in your thoughts you'd stopped working?

Never mind that, tend to the pretty corpse, you told yourself. You stood up, ignoring the saliva gathering on your tongue. "How so?"

"He's tossing and turning, groaning in his sleep," she said, chewing on her nails, glancing in the direction of the trancing elf.

"I'll check on him," you said.

You walked across camp toward Astarion's tent. When you'd gotten back to camp, Shadowheart had thought it wisest to keep him in view of everyone, just in case something went wrong, so Astarion currently lay on your own bedroll in front of his tent.

You could see Astarion's sleep had become fitful. He had tossed and turned so much that he'd thrown off the blanket he took everywhere that you'd put over him. His hair was beyond messy. His eyebrows were pinched together and he was panting unnecessarily.

A soft groan slipped past his lips as he rolled to one side, desperately hugging his arms to his stomach. You cocked your head. Was his hunger causing him to stir?

"At least we know I didn't kill him knocking him out," you said.

Karlach opened her mouth but was interrupted by Astarion's whimper. The two of you both looked at him again, concerned. "Master," he rasped.

Your body stiffened. You had a sudden need to keep Karlach away, sure these babblings were not something Astarion would want anyone to hear.

Why are you not also leaving him be? you asked yourself. You decided against answering that question.

"I'll keep an eye on him," you promised her.

Karlach gave you a curious look, then nodded. She turned away and headed back across camp.

You sat down beside Astarion. You peered down at him, his face fixed into an expression of pain.

Poor creature, you thought.

Astarion gave another whine of hunger, curling into the fetal position. Your own face pinched into an expression of sympathy. You took your dagger from its sheath and pricked your finger on it. With your free hand, you held open Astarion's mouth, then hovered your bleeding finger over it.

Achingly slowly, the blood dripped into Astarion's mouth.

~❊~

Food.

A sharp, iron tang filled his senses. He could smell it, so close he was sure if he could just convince his body to move through the sluggish black around him that he would be able to taste it—

Blood hit his tongue, the taste of a single droplet bringing saliva that coated his jaws. Another drop followed. One after the other, droplets of blood collected on his tongue. Somehow, he found it within himself to swallow.

Astarion knew this blood. The taste was oddly familiar, though it wasn't part of his regular diet. No, this was not the blood of bugs and rats—this was the blood of a thinking creature. One he'd feasted from before.

Master will torture me for this, he thought. Master will write more poetry on my skin.

But Astarion no longer found it in him to care. As more blood dripped into his mouth, he swallowed it down with enthusiasm.

Strength returned to his limbs. The hunger that plagued him constantly began to subside, easing into something bearable. Old aches and pains disappeared.

There you go, Astarion, a female voice said. She sounded close—and worried. Just drink. It will help.

Astarion obeyed on instinct. He knew this voice. It was uncannily familiar, the kind of voice he'd listen to for hours just to keep hearing it. Yet...where had he heard it? Was this a victim, coming back to haunt his memories? It certainly wasn't one of his sisters...

With a full belly, restlessness took over. Astarion quickly grew bored of the dark surrounding him. He shifted, the movement slowly bringing him back into his body. He huffed impatiently.

Are you coming back to me? the voice asked, accompanied by a soft touch on his cheek. A brief moment of silence followed, then— You're scaring the others, Little Star.

Astarion tensed. That name. No one called him that. His siblings knew better and his victims never got close enough, so...

A hand slipped into his hair. Panic took over. Astarion's scalp tingled. He anticipated pain to follow.

Something within him snapped—

~❊~

Astarion's eyes opened the same time the thread within him grew too taut. He lurched upward, a snarl on his lips. He bared his teeth, prepared to rip out the throat of whomever had touched him—

"Easy!" It was the same voice. The hand left his hair and pushed him back to the ground. A figure appeared over him. "It's just me!"

The voice stopped him. Astarion let himself be pushed back down—surprisingly gently, with only one hand on his shoulder. He focused on the figure above him and slowly your features come into focus.

You're...beautiful. Your hair has been pulled out of the way, leaving the concern and worry on your face clear to his eyes. Your eyes were wide, but you didn't seem to be afraid of him. In fact, the look on your face suggested you know his dangers all too well.

You were the answer to every prayer he'd always been too scared to voice.

Slowly, Astarion relaxed. You looked instantly relieved.

"It's me," you said again, calmer now. "Do you remember me yet?"

You lifted your hand to his cheek. Astarion could smell the blood on it—the same blood he'd just tasted. He turned toward it and saw the small slice in your finger.

"You fed me?" he asked.

You nodded. "Of course I did, Astarion."

Astarion flinched. "How do you know my name?"

Disappointment flickered in your eyes. "I'll take that as a no," you sighed. Only then did Astarion realize you'd asked him a question. "We travel together, Star. With our friends. So that we can get the tadpoles out of our heads?" You spoke slowly, trying to give him time to catch up.

But Astarion didn't recognize anything—except for the smell of your blood, which seemed so innate to him, beyond the taste of it on his tongue.

"I— I'm sorry, I don't know," he whispered.

"Nothing sounds familiar?" you asked. When he shook his head again, your disappointment showed on your face for a moment. You hid it quickly with your next breath, but Astarion saw it. "That's alright. It'll come back to you."

Fear suddenly wrapped its claws around his heart. "Will it?"

"Yes," you said firmly. "It will. I promise, Star." You took his hand in yours and squeezed gently. "And I'll be with you until you do remember."

A thousand questions swirled in his mind. Who were you? What had he done to deserve your kindness? How could you be so certain that he would recover?

Deep in his heart, he wondered if he even wanted to recover. The bits and pieces floating around inside his head... They were not pleasant. And yet, all he could think to ask was, "Why?"

You smiled softly at him, almost regretfully. You were silent for a long time, avoiding his gaze. Your hair just barely covered your eyes; Astarion could not make out your expression. At last, you raised your head toward him. "If you were in your right mind, you'd know." The muscle in your jaw feathered. In a hushed voice, you added, "Honestly, that scares me more than this."

Astarion's eyes narrowed. He felt like he was missing something, something obvious. You were hiding something, but he couldn't fathom what or why...

You turned away from his intense, questioning gaze. "Rest. I'll be here when you wake up." You pulled a knife from its sheath on your boot and a rag from your pocket. You began polishing it.

Astarion watched you for some time, entranced by the methodic way you cleaned your weapons, pausing to inspect the shine of the blade. It did not take long for the drowsy blackness to seep into the edges of his consciousness, taking over with every blink. Soon, there was nothing left but...

~❊~

You weren't entirely certain when Astarion had dozed off, just that you had suddenly felt the loss of his gaze. You glanced at him, his body still on your bedroll.

A few moments passed while you watched him. Once you were certain he was deep in his trance, you left his side to collect a handful of herbs and a water flask.

You measured out the herbs and tied them off in a mesh pouch. You steeped them in the cold water and watched the color change achingly slowly. Only when it had reached a greenish-yellow color did you gently reopen the bloody spot on your finger, hissing as the skin split again, and let your blood drip into the mixture.

You stared down at it, watching the blood sink to the bottom of the bowl. The herbs, meant to help improve memory, ought to do something for his memory loss... Or so you hoped.

With Astarion still trancing, you left the herbs to steep. You returned to your own tent briefly to retrieve a book to read while you waited for him to wake.

The evening passed surprisingly slowly. You got through several chapters before you were interrupted by a gentle tap on your shoulder. You looked up to find Gale offering you a plate of food.

"Thank you, Gale," you said, accepting it after you'd put your book down. "How's the arm?"

"You're welcome. All healed up, thanks to Shadowheart," he said. He glanced at your mixture. "Is that for Astarion?"

You nodded. "It's a bunch of herbs to help improve memory. I was thinking it might speed up the 'temporary' part of the wizard's spell."

He thought for a moment. "I have a few spells that might help," he said. "Pass me the bowl."

You did so and watched curiously as Gale muttered a few quiet incantations over the mixture. When he passed the bowl back to you, the water faintly glowed lavender.

"That should help," he said.

"What did you do?" you asked, frowning. You hadn't recognized any of his mutterings.

Gale bit back a smile. "Those spells should increase the herbs' potency. It will strengthen the potion, and our elf's ability to retain his memory."

For a moment, you just stared at him. Then you said, "You have to teach me those spells."

Gale smiled. "Anytime," he promised. He nodded to the plate he'd given you. "Eat. You need your strength, too."

You nodded and ate quickly. Astarion shifted in his trance, mumbling quietly. You glanced at him and heaved a sigh when you realized he was, once again, clutching his stomach.

"You are a pain to feed when you can't bite me," you said to him before once again opening your finger and letting your blood drip into his mouth. Yet you weren't nearly as annoyed as you sounded; you honestly didn't mind caring for the elf. Gods knew he deserved it.

You returned to your book until night fell. The others came to check on you and Astarion before they retired. Wyll put out the campfire and you looked at the vampire still knocked out on your bedroll.

"Guess we're sharing again," you murmured to him and wriggled into your bedroll. You got cozy, comforted by his presence, despite everything. You rolled to put your back to him, but whispered over your shoulder, "Good night, Astarion."

~❊~

Astarion woke up very suddenly, a scream in his throat. He covered his mouth with a hand before it could come out. He lay that way for several moments, trying to calm the sense of panic in him from yet another nightmare of his master, before he realized he was not in his tent. Or any tent.

His head rolled to the right, toward the heat next to him and the scent of you. You had curled up beside him, your back to him, some distance between the two of you. For some reason, his heart sank. Why hadn't you cuddled up close to him?

Bits and pieces of memory hit him with a pounding headache: something slamming into his chest, loosing an arrow from his bow into Gale's shoulder, waking up and lunging for you, watching you sharpen your knives...

Gods, what had happened over the past few days. When had they left that battlefield?

Astarion glanced at your sleeping form again. A deep ache sat in his chest; he wanted... Gods, did he really? He wanted to hold you. He wanted you in his arms.

For her heat, he told himself as he rolled onto his side and closer to you, draping his arm over your middle. He ignored the fact that his explanation did not cover the little kiss he pressed to the nape of your neck.

You stirred in your sleep. "Little Star?" you murmured, pushing back against his chest.

"Don't wake up," he murmured. "I'm here."

He watched a sweet, sleepy smile cross your face. "It worked," you mumbled. You hand came up to slide into his and squeeze gently.

Astarion frowned. "What worked?"

You rolled to face him, even though your eyes remained closed. "I'll tell you in the morning," you said. You yawned and nuzzled your face in his chest, apparently happy to hide in the fabric of his shirt and his scent. You hummed. "My pretty little death."

There you were with your strange little sayings. Astarion raised his eyebrow, assuming you'd caught a whiff of his (albeit faint) odor of death. "Do I need more perfume?"

"No," you said, quite adamantly. "Smells good."

Astarion bit back a giddy, boyish smile. "If you say so." He put his hand into your hair, fingers scratching your scalp gently. You hummed contentedly and, within seconds, fell back asleep against him.

He wrapped his other arm around you as well, pressing you close to him. A twinge of hunger passed through him, but he ignored it; while you had told him plenty of times he could feed while you slept, he'd rather wait until the morning than risk waking you again.

Too alert to fall back to sleep, Astarion looked down at you. He brushed a few strands of your hair from your face, reveling in the softness of your hair and skin. He brushed his thumb across your cheekbone, content to admire you until his eyes got tired of you. Truthfully, he wasn't sure that day would ever come.

"Oh, you," he murmured. He kissed the top of your head and you lifted your head toward him while you slept, turning your face toward him. Like a sunflower seeking the sun, he thought, a very old distant memory surfacing—his tiny hand in a bigger one, belonging to someone telling him to look at the big yellow flowers in front of him...

He was your sun. And you were...his.

Something in his chest stirred. It wasn't quite a heartbeat, but it was very close: a fluttering in his heart, truly awakening for the first time. A shuddering breath escaped Astarion's lips.

Oh.

Through the fuzz of the past few hours, Astarion dimly remembered you smiling at him, soft and sad and unsure, sorrow in your voice as you said, If you were in your right mind, you'd know. Honestly, that scares me more than this.

And Astarion did know. He did.

Oh.

"My darling," Astarion murmured, shifting to curl his body around yours. You responded in your sleep, clinging tightly to him. He kissed your cheek and then rested his head against yours, watching the sky and patiently waiting for the sun to rise.

For the first time in two hundred years, the gods had finally listened.

~❊~

Your body registered the warmth of the sun before you fully woke. It spread through you, spreading a lazy comfort through you. You slipped between peaceful sleep and fuzzy wakefulness for some time before lips roused you completely.

Tiny kisses covered your cheeks and nose. A hand cupped your cheek. "Wake up, my love," a soft voice said. Your heart warmed and your eyes flickered open. Astarion!

His crimson eyes crinkled with a smile when you looked at him. "There she is," he whispered, fonder than you had ever heard him.

"You're back," you murmured, overjoyed to be his love again but desperately tamping the feeling down. He would certainly see it now if you were not careful to hide your heart.

"What happened?" he asked. "I remember fighting goblins, but nothing else until I woke up to you avoiding me in your sleep." His tone was teasing, but there was something else there—some little bit of vulnerability. Your heart began to beat faster in your chest.

You propped your head up on your hand. "It's a long story, Star."

"Tell it to me while I feed," he suggested, already shifting to perform your morning ritual.

You rolled onto your opposite side and exposed your neck to him, sweeping your hair out of the way. "Alright," you said, barely suppressing a shudder as his lips brushed your skin, leaving a soft, yearning kiss.

What has gotten into him today? you wondered.

Astarion finally sunk his teeth into your neck. You let him take one, two, three swallows of your blood before you began talking. You spared no details, telling him what had happened since he'd been hit with a memory spell as steadily as you could with him sucking at your neck.

When he was finished, Astarion licked over the holes in your neck until they stopped bleeding.

"Thank you," he said, uncharacteristically quiet. "For the meal and for staying with me. I can't imagine it was easy work."

You looked up at him, entranced by the flush on his cheeks. You reached up to cup his face, admiring him for a moment before snapping out of your daze. "No, it...it was fine. It was..." You.

A smile twitched at the corners of his lips. Your heart sank into your stomach. He knows. Gods, he knows how I feel.

Astarion took your chin in his hand and lifted your head. He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. He looked at you with that sweet, fond look in his eyes for a moment. Then they fluttered shut as he leaned down, pressing his lips against yours.

Your surprise melted quickly into content as his thumb stroked your jaw instead. He tasted vaguely of iron; arousal fluttered through you, your urge only growing more powerful at the taste of your lifeblood on his tongue. Yet it slipped away as Astarion cuddled closer to you, sheltering within your arms, his lips never leaving yours. His soft, barely audible moans, were like an epic poem, his kiss a balm to the worry that had been building in your chest.

He feels it, too.

You broke away for a moment of air. "Astarion," you whispered and he let out a feral growl, chasing your lips eagerly. But for all his eagerness, it was not the kisses he gave you before he ravaged you. He was softer, slower. You felt the promise he was making you in that moment.

The kiss went on. The dynamic changed slowly; his fangs scraped across your lips—his tongue slipped into your mouth—your tongue into his—he suckled on your lower lip—you gently held his lip between your teeth—your fingers curled in his hair—his hand on your neck.

You let Astarion decide when he was done, happy to kiss him slowly. Your hand fell to his chest and rested above his unbeating heart. He hummed into your mouth.

When he did finally pull away, his cheeks were delightfully red, the tips of his ears pink. His eyes fluttered. A slow, content smile formed on his lips.

You kissed his forehead. He turned a deeper shade of red. "Thank you, my Star."

Astarion nuzzled into you. "Darling..." He dropped his mouth to your neck, once again kissing his feeding place. "I don't want to stop."

You smiled. "So don't."

Astarion was kissing you again in an instant, his hands cupping your face, cradling you close. You melted into him, giving control over to your pretty corpse.

You were interrupted by a throat clearing above you just as a shadow fell over the two you. Your lips parted from Astarion's as you both looked up, somewhat guiltily.

Lae'zel stood above you, already ready to move on. "Unstick your maws," she ordered with a snort. "We must go." She left as quickly as she had arrived, but watching after her made it clear the rest of camp had also been watching the two of you.

"Maws," Astarion mused.

"She's right," you said, sitting up. "We should get ready."

Astarion caught your hand and pressed a tender kiss to your fingers. "Alright, my love."

The two of you slipped out of the bedroll. You helped Astarion fix his hair, mussed by sleep and your hands, and then the two of you packed up your belongings quickly to catch up with the others. You hadn't realized just how much time had passed while you got lost with him.

"Good morning!" Gale said cheerily, striding over, a twinkle in his eye. "I see Astarion's regained his memory!"

You glanced up in time to see Astarion blush and give Gale the universal look that meant 'shut up' and realized Gale had known all along. When had the two of them gotten close enough for that? Or was Gale just very good at reading people?

"I have," Astarion said coolly, recovering. "Our lovely leader here has filled me in on what happened while I was...indisposed." He looked awkward for a moment, then continued, "I apologize for shooting you, wizard."

"Apology accepted," Gale said matter-of-factly. He lifted his arm to prove it had healed. "No harm done!"

You finished up with your packing. "Where are we off to today?" you asked Gale. "Have the others decided?"

He pulled a face. "Everyone's got their own ideas," he said tactfully. "I think it'd be best if you decided what we handled first."

You sighed. "You mean that Shadowheart and Lae'zel are trying to kill each other, and I have to stop them and take the heat from whoever I piss off more."

Gale winced. "Yes, something like that."

"Alright. I'll be right there."

Gale nodded and started back toward where the others were gathered. You watched him go with a sigh.

"Is that why Lae'zel interrupted us?" Astarion asked. "Because if she thinks that's a way to gain favor, she's most certainly wrong."

You giggled at him. "Did someone want to keep kissing?"

He tried to hold your gaze, but looked away as his ears turned pink again. "Maybe," he muttered.

You kissed his cheek. "Later," you promised. You offered him your hand. "Come on. Let's get this sorted."

"Alright, my love," he said—a new phrase of his, it seemed—and took your hand. For a moment, he just looked at you, like there was something he wanted to say. You paused.

"What is it?" you asked.

He shook his head, a tiny smile on his lips now. "Nothing." You raised your eyebrow. "We'll talk about it later."

You nodded. "Alright."

You walked toward your bickering companions. Lae'zel was muttering about the creche, Shadowheart adamantly refusing not to go, with Wyll and Karlach trying to placate them both. At least those two weren't still at each other's throats.

The minute Shadowheart saw you, she darted over. "We have to get to the Temple of Shar," she started. "We made so much progress before we reached the goblins—"

"Chk! Our top priority should be the creche—"

Shadowheart glared at the githyanki. "We are not going to the creche!"

"We are going to neither place just yet, and you are both staying here in camp until you learn to get along," you said sharply. You saw Astarion smirk out of the corner of your eye. "Gale, Karlach, you'll come with me and Astarion. We'll see how far we can get and make a decision from there."

Karlach pulled a face. "Are you two going to kiss all day?" she complained.

You rolled your eyes. "That depends on how much you annoy me. Now, come on. I'd like to get going. And for the love of all, can we please avoid memory spells?"

Gale bit back a smile. "Are you certain? It seems to me you've gotten something rather good out of it." He glanced down at your fingers, still twined with Astarion's.

You glanced at Astarion. "Yes," you agreed. "And he is enough for me." You kissed his cheek again. For only his ears, you whispered, "I mean that, you know."

He smiled at you. "I know."

"Good," you said. You kissed him quickly.

You waited for Gale and Karlach to get what they needed with your head resting on Astarion's shoulder. You knew as well as any that you were far from steady; you still had much to talk about. You looked up at Astarion and found a far-off look in his eyes, one that looked a little too much like sorrow for your liking.

Astarion's "nothing" was looking an awful lot like "something."

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel@cheeslyy@ofmyth-andmagicart@neetheslayer@whispering-depths@freesidexjunkie@lightsinmycity@the0ldmann@gobbodoggo@oooof-ifellforyou@beeblisss@fangboner@aquaarietes@fiercest-eigengrau-skies@niqhtfell@call-me-nyxx@lueji-m@ceres-xiv@tricksy-trinity@graynstairs@rosa-rubus@ynisthatyou@thegoodwitchs-blog@catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil @makepastanotwar13 @caramel-hufflepuff @beemiilk @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @starwatch77 @julianmarie @sadexistentialism @supernaturallover15 @writinghound @frankie-mercury @kindadolly @infernalrusalka

[saintlethanavir]

Hear me out

(psst if you like my work i have more bg3 fanart and sexc gay morally grey vampires on my pay tree on, levandjackcreate)

[egooppidum]

All party banters with romanced ascended!Astarion

[aristenfromwarsaw]

🎄 December event with prizes ! 🎄 🎁

Since it's December, the month of presents, I decided to create an event on my profile ! 🎁 Since I do screenshot requests all the time, I decided that the reward would be GIFs which I do not do upon request. I will randomly select 3 people (the event will be on 3 sites - Tumblr, X and BlueSky) who will win 3 GIFs (in two sizes) of their Tav x Lover or Rook x Lover, two screenshots of Tav x Lover or Rook x Lover and one shot of portrait of Tav/Rook as a prize.

🎀 Rules of participation:

Follow my profile, like and reblog this post and leave a comment with the name of your pair from the game. ❤️

I will pick the winners on December 21 (you can participate until December 20 06:00 a.m. (UTC +1 time).

For BG3 I accept modded characters and I will need screenshots from the character creator.

For DATV I will need a save file with the scenes you are interested in, I am working on an unmodded game.

I accept NSFW shots. 💋

If you are on my waiting list, or I made the screenshot request for you, you can also participate. I treat this as a completely separate request.

🎁

[murmishhy]

Imagine you’ve decided to be partners with Gortash. Whether you’re seeking information about your past (if you’re Durge) or trying to uncover his true intentions (if you’re Tav), you need crucial details. You can still betray him by raiding the Iron Throne and Steel Watch Foundry, but the issue is that you don’t know their locations. Fortunately, Gortash is hosting an inauguration party at Wyrm’s Rock Castle tonight. You can attend with your romantic partner or a companion, but there's another intriguing option: the Archduke Enver Gortash himself has invited you to join him for the evening. Your responses could be:

1. I'd be delighted.

2. Don’t take this the wrong way, Gortash, but I’d rather die.

3. Why? Who am I to you?

4. Sure, it'll be fun! I always love stepping on people's shoes at dances!

If you choose to go to the party with Gortash, he will ask you to dance. You must accept, leading to a skill check similar to Wyll's. If you fail, Gortash will save you from falling, causing your psyche to take -3 damage and you will be charmed by Gortash. In future battles with him, your attack rolls and saving throws will have disadvantage against him. However, if you succeed in dancing well, Gortash will be charmed by you, allowing you to persuade him to give you his stone later.

If you attend the dance with someone else, Gortash will be annoyed but will still ask you for a dance. The same consequences apply if you accept. Refusing his dance to dance with your partner instead unlocks a new romance scene, further annoying Gortash. This could lead to increased hostility when you later request his stone.

At the end of the night, regardless of whether you danced with him, you can ask for his stone. Based on your interactions during the event, Gortash might agree to give it to you, securing his position as Archduke. This way, you can save his life, you can either let him stay as the Archduke after the battle, or with Ravenguard's help overthrow him and send him to jail. Alternatively, he might refuse to give his stone and insist both of you have to face the brain together, so you have to meet up at the morphic pool where he will die regardless. In the worst-case scenario, he could become hostile and attempt to take your stone, leading to a battle then and there until one of you ends up dead.

I think a dance idea such as this would add a fascinating layer to Gortash's character. We can see him working his charm on us, we can have a potential romantic scene with him, or just witness how much of a manipulative little shit he is. It’s unfortunate that there isn’t more content for him, especially opportunities to save him. Considering he isn’t worse than Durge, he deserves a chance at redemption, in my honest opinion. I wish Larian would consider adding such a feature to give our greasy boi a shot at salvation, and a chance to be happy with his nearest and dearest Durge, or Tav.

[shadowkira]

Baldur's Gate Text Post: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

[karlach-esmeray]

Things seem to be crumbling a few months into their time in Avernus. There is little downtime to maintain a relationship, constant bloodshed, and minimal gains in fixing Karlach's engine.

Esmeray may not have the highest intelligence stats-- especially after her blood kin used her skull as a pin cushion-- but that doesn't mean she hasn't been spending any downtime since Karlach's 2nd engine upgrade pouring over infernal information. She will NEVER give up on the love of her life.

Luckily, we all know that by the reunion party, they have found blueprints for the repair. It's not going to be an easy battle to Zariel's forge, but together (Along with their companions) there is hope.

Taters

[knightingale-errant]

gandrel: yeah I'm looking for a vampire spawn - his names astarion

these fucking idiots:

[lynnlovesthestars]

Could I ask for a Astarion x Durge!Tav

I've done 2 Durge playthoughs and wish , which ever companion you romance has a reaction when Durge rejects to be bhasls chosen and gets killed but brought back to life by withers .

When the party returns to the camp after they discover she was a mastermind in all the trouble .

she doesn't talk to anyone . Especially Astarion ....She has now taken the farthest away bed from the others and waits for everyone to go to sleep and she would get up and leave kethrics netherstone next to Astarion and she would leave to face orin alone .

But by the time they find her they find her after she defeats orin she's Exhausted and bloody they would get there too late as they would enter the temple and get close to her Astarion and the others would hear her go " I reject "and see her get killed by bhaal. His love , his darling was now gone....he cradles her when withers appears to bring her back .

If this is a lot I'm sorry I got carried away . I haven't found anything but one snippet someone made about this scene . And I love you writing and wish to see your take on this .

Sorry im so late, but here i am. Lete but always coming back at a certain point t.t

BG3 x durge HC When you refuse bhaal

The shock of the new discovery downs on the group only when you return to the elfsong tavern. The room is filled with an unusual tension as everyone follows your movements unsure whether they should trust you or avoid you.

You are silent as you gather your belongings to move, your brain swirling with all the new knowledge as it threatens to overwhelm you.

You move to the bed in the very corner, opposite to where everyone rested, to give them space and to give yourself some as well as you had to reweight the path you followed and prepare for your next act.

It is past midnight when everyone is finally asleep and your plan is finally set in motion. You leave Ketheric’s netherstone on Astarion’s nightstand and leave.

Astarion notices accidentally, the clung of the stone on his nightstand somewhat wakes him from his trance, yet only when it was too late, he realizes what’s going on.

The whole group rushes through the city, quick to reach the sewers and delve deeper into the ravines as everyone is panicking. Whatever you were planning, they knew it was going to be disastrous, and they wouldn’t- no, couldn’t allow it. As much as they were shocked, they still cared about you. Yet the moment the doors of the temple of Bhaal flung open, they were late.

“I reject.” You beamed clearly, not an ounce of remorse in your voice before you quickly turn your head towards the commotion at the door, and you couldn’t help but smile as they all stood there, desperate as you breathed your last breath.

Wyll:

“DAMNED YOU, BHAAL” He yelled as he rushed to your side, his hands quickly reaching around your contorted figure, bringing you to his chest. He pressed his ear to your chest, still arched in his arms, trying to find a pulse, life, anything, yet he was met with silence.

“Shit” He murmurs as he curls on the floor, his arms bound to you as if in a curse. He had to do something. He had saved Baldur’s Gate, slayed dragons, minotaurs, and couldn’t save you, his sweet love.

How many people was he bound to lose? Was he ready to give up his dream of a life with you? No, no, no he wasn’t, so he did what his chest told him to do.

It was almost a cry in pain as he sobbed the syllables out loud, knowing she was already listening. She was always there, he knew it.

“Mizora, do what you do best” He spat as the tears still descended down his scarred cheeks.

“Now, now,  pet.” She tsked sadness in her voice. “I wouldn’t rush certain decisions” She warned, aware of what was going to happen, yet incapable of telling him it was already going to be okay.

Gale:

He is rushing down to the altar, trying to stop the inevitable as he tries to cast a spell, Tiny Hut, as if it could stop a God’s punishment. He should have known better.

“Why did you do it, you fool” He cried out as he sunk to his knees, hopelessly placing his head on your chest to feel your pulse, as if the broken bones were not enough an indication of how dead you were.

The second he couldn’t feel your heartbeat, and he could physically feel your body from growing cold, he couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, soaking your shirt as he clinged to you as if you were going to disappear at any moment, his sobs echoing in the temple.

“You can’t leave me, you understand?” He sobbed as he fisted your shirt and hopelessly tried to shake you awake. 

Astarion

Shit.

He’s running before you can even fall to the ground, oh he wished he had some magic to protect you from the impact with the floor, but he could barely make it in time to see you eyes turn lifeless.

“You can’t do this to me, you idiot, I love you, you understand. I can’t bear to see you like this“ He cries as he hoists you up in his lap, your head lolling on his shoulder.

“I love you” He whispers as his head drops to the side, the tears flooded his eyes as he rocked the two of you back and forth. “Tav, please” He murmured as if just begging would help.

Shadowheart

They say there’s nothing worse for a medic to see their loved ones hurt, their bodies fall to the ground helpless as they can do nothing but stare. They say that you lose all reason, and that’s what she felt like. She felt as she lost everything all over again. She felt just like when she was under Shar’s tyranny all over again.. lost.

Before she could comprehend what she was doing she was on her knees, your head resting on her  thighs as she rubbed her hands together and channeled all her magic in the healing spell. Yet it was not enough. She tried and tried as tears stained her cheeks as, one at a time, they joined her in a circle, some trying to reassure Shadowheart and some already feeling defeated.

But she didn't want to lose faith, she couldn't. She couldn't just abandon her lover when your love had just had the chance to blossom anew. She couldn't give up.

“Where is that sack of bones?” She wailed as she picked up the beaten body. “Someone call withers please” She'd beg desperately until he appeared in front of her, and maybe there was still a chance.

Lae’zel

You can’t be dead, she swears as you break in front of her. She wonders how you do it, to smile one last time as you bid her goodbye before falling to the ground, as your bones split in half yet you hold back the screams. It can’t be.

It takes her one second too long to realize what's going on before she’s at your side. Her hands barely shaking as she picks you up and cradles you to her chest.

“Bhaal, can you hear me?” She asks in the hollow temple. “You have made a dangerous enemy” She swears as she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I will find you and I will slain you” She screams as she does her best to hold back the tears and stop her voice from shaking. “Tsk'in'va” She can almost hear the god’s laughter as she pulls you impossibly closer, whispering in your ear. “I will avenge you, my love”

Karlach

Anger bubbles up in her stomach, as she bolts down the stairs. "you can't abandon me too, Okay Soldier?” For once she fights the rage, she turns the heat into despair as she falls to her knees and envelopes you with her warmth. It was heartbreaking, for so long she was Stripped of love, of care, and once again the universe was against her. “ FUCK YOU BHAAL. If you think you can take them away from me, you are wrong.” She pulled you up in her arms rocking your lifeless body as shadowheart approached you two. “I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND TAKE AWAY ALL YOU CARE ABOUT, You sack of shit“ She screamed in front of the hollow altar that she desecrated with her spit.

Halsin:

Halsin can’t believe his eyes; his body moves as per inertia as he rushes next to you, his arms finding their home around your middle as their usual, and yet met with your lifeless body. He doesn’t care about what happens around him, as your companions take out their weapons ready to fight, he weeps, he prays Silvanus, he holds you as if everything depends on your sweet eyes meeting his again, but he knows.

He knows deep down that Silvanus can’t help him, that his tears can’t bring you back to him, and so he clutches desperately to your cooling body, uncaring if his robes soak in your blood, uncaring if he will break down in front of everyone.

He uses all his magic attempting to heal you, he begs Shadowheart and Jaheira, but neither can help.

The room fell silent when everyone but your companions were alive, the echo of the sobs mixed with the panting as Halsin managed to cast one last spell. The crown of roses sits around your temple delicately as he can’t help but sob louder. So many times he had wished he could stop in a flowerfield to make you a crown, the crown you deserved, yet the only time he was able to give you the flowery circlet, it was as you laid dead in his embrace.

Withers speaks and speaks as Halsin weaves his hands with yours, before placing a soft kiss to your forehead. His tears stained both his and your skin as he can’t help but ignore what the Skeleton is saying, whispering prayers, begging to have you back.

“My love, please, please please” He says under his breath, his eyes are completely drained of tears, his throat is sore, his body aches from sitting on his knees for so long, and yet he doesn’t let go. “Silvanus had just blessed me with you, I can’t lose you already” He cries as he holds you to his chest tighter. Then he feels. The slow beat in your chest, your body fighting to get back in its shape, your chest rising rhythmically as your eyes finally open.

“My love” He sobs as he tightens his grip around your frame. “Don’t do this to me ever again” He nuzzles his head against your shoulders, more tears streaming heavily down his cheeks as his prayers turn to thanks.

“I thought I had lost you forever. For so long I wanted to give you a token of my love and I-” He hiccups. “I failed you, my love”

[farthaz]

I was thinking about Shadowheart and the PC's cottage functioning as the central hub and meeting point post-game. Like the all would gather there, at the same time or not, and spend some relaxing days with the family:

Karlach: Once her engine is finally repaired, she visits her friends and stays with them for a long while, just relaxing and enjoying farm life. Until her hunger for exploration leads her to the roads again; but always finds her way back to the family

Wyll: Even if Karlach's engine is repaired already, The Blade of Avernus has many unfinished businesses in the Hells, so he returns to his duties after resting at the cottage, learning to make pastries with Shadowheart and telling them stories from his adventures. Arnell becomes a great fan of the Blade, and always lends him his ears

Lae'zel: Once her people are free and she can take a short vacation from her duties (or what she considers vacation anyway lol) she visits them, probably finding Karlach there too, and puts both Tav/Durge and Shadowheart in shape again. Too much meddling with animals and vegetables and too little maintaining their skills... For her standards lol.

Jaheira: The city eventually overwhelms her again and before tackling any new adventure, she visits the cub and their family. She bonds with Emmeline over plants and garden maintenance, becoming great friends.

Halsin: He can take only a small break from the Towers before the kids miss him too much. Every time he visits, he brings them gifts from nature: seeds, grown plants, exotic fruits, or homemade ham, which he teaches Shadowheart how to make.

Astarion: Rarely shows up, and always at night, pranking them or pretending to be a thief; until Shadowheart very seriously threatens him for scaring the cats. He brings the best vintages stolen from the Upper city and all the juicy gossip from the streets and the political sphere of Baldur's Gate.

Gale: Professor Gale doesn't have that much time available, but makes sure to visit his dear friends during holidays, taking Tara with him (and the best spices in the realms!). Tara isn't very sure about the whole ordeal with so many animals xD but she enjoys her time there, especially in the summer.

Isobel & Aylin: The moon lesbians throttle the realms, helping people and bringing hope to those who need it. Every now and then, they stop by the cottage for a few days. Dame Aylin always gets Tav/Durge and Shadowheart drunk, and it falls to Isobel to help them with hungover.

That would be all I can think about for now. I just want them to be happy and maintain their bond.

[dark-and-kawaii]

No Escape

Haarlep x f!Tav/Reader

Mephistopheles x Haarlep/f!Tav/Reader

⋆˙⟡♡ 18+ Dark Content

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary: Haarlep is once again captured and under the control of the archdevil Mephistopheles. The devil mocks Haarlep's previous attempt to flee to live freely, suggesting a more twisted form of punishment this time… One that even you could feel.

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: I’ve been working on this for the past couple days now. Enjoy xoxo

4k words & Based off my thoughts on Haarlep’s background

⋆˙⟡♡ NSFW | Dark Content | Heavy Angst | Noncon | Blood | Ao3

The dank alleyway was silent save for the skittering of rats and the distant echo of merriment from the nearby taverns. Haarlep moved like a shadow, their footsteps muted, their breath a quiet whisper against the chill of the night. They were seeking you, for they had grown bored waiting for you to return to them.

Before they could sense the ambush, their instincts screamed a warning. Shadows shifted, and figures emerged from the dark. Before Haarlep could react, strong hands grabbed them, and a sharp pain shot through their wrists. Looking down, Haarlep saw the glint of enchanted metal magical cuffs, designed to suppress their powers. They could feel their heart race; it was rare for an incubus of their caliber to be caught off guard by a mere human.

Haarlep swished their tail, a last attempt at defense, but it was like thrashing against the winds of a storm. The incubus’s assailants were prepared, unfazed by the creatures feeble efforts. Haarlep's eyes flashed with irritation, yet they knew better than to let fear take hold. Instead, they summoned the smooth, confident demeanor that was their trademark.

“If you wanted to get rough with me, a simple whisper in my ear would have sufficed-,” they began, their voice low and teasing, but the sentence was abruptly cut short. A calloused hand clamped over their lips, the stench of sulfur and filth assaulting their senses. Sulfur?

“Quiet, you revolting creature! Your kind don’t belong here, preying on our women and men, especially the hero of this city! We’ve seen ya hanging around her!” the ringleader hissed.

Haarlep's eyebrow arched. Preying on you? The very idea was laughable. It was true, they originally wanted to be your cruel master, but the tables had turned so delightfully. You were the one who had ensnared the incubus with your charms, your boldness captivating them in a way few mortals ever had. And though they’d never admit it aloud, they didn't mind this reversal of roles.

The thought was a spark of warmth against their growing concern. There was a dangerous edge to the situation,a tone of finality in their captor's voice that couldn't be ignored.

“Time to take you back where ya came from!”

The words struck a chord of genuine alarm. Haarlep's eyes widened as they realized the full extent of their intentions. The smell of sulfur, these humans being prepared, it wasn’t Grazzt who had summoned for them… Their original home, the Abyss. But rather Cania, the eighth hell, a frozen wasteland, a place of punishment and exile for their kind. It was the one place they dreaded above all after becoming “free”.

A snap shattered the stillness, and a portal yawned open, its glacial glow casting foreboding shadows. The gateway to their dread stood gaping, an icy maw ready to swallow Haarlep whole.

The air in the grand chamber was icy, a stark contrast to the spark that usually dances in Haarlep's eyes, now dulled by the grim realization of their predicament. Forced to their knees on the marble flooring, the relentless cold crept into their very marrow, a chilling reminder of the unforgiving nature of Hell's hierarchy.

Before them stood Mephistopheles, the archdevil of Cania, whose mere presence seemed to leech the warmth from the air, "Well, well, what do we have here?" Mephistopheles purred, his voice the embodiment of malevolence, "My lost little debaucher.”

Haarlep's silence was not by choice; the fabric gag in their mouth stifled any retort they might have conjured. Their glare met the eyes of Mephistopheles', as the devil's hand cupped their chin, forcing them to maintain eye contact.

"My lap has been quite cold without you here," Mephistopheles murmured, his thumb tracing the line of Haarlep's jaw with a feigned tenderness that belied the cruelty beneath. "Tell me, after my son's demise you came back here, did you not? Why only tease me and the others in my court if you were just going to run away and never come back for a visit?"

The cruel indentations of Mephistopheles' talons etching into Haarlep’s flesh forced a muffled grunt from Haarlep, the sole utterance they could manage against the gag. The searing mark was a relentless testament to the infernal dominion the archdevil held over them, a dominion Haarlep had once slipped from and now found themselves ensnared within again, tighter, more inescapable.

"Ah, but I should hardly chide you for your pitiful attempt to flee," Mephistopheles sneered with a sadistic curl of his lip, "It was my own amusement that saw you freed from my grasp, straight into the embrace of that lovely woman."

As Mephistopheles' hold constricted, a warning clear in the increasing pressure, Haarlep understood that the path to freedom would be far more treacherous this time. Their prior escape had been a mere twist of fate, a rare moment of chance they had exploited with your aid. Now, beneath Mephistopheles' relentless scrutiny, amidst the icy desolation of Cania, and with you absent in Faerun, the scales of fortune were grimly tipped against them...

"Perhaps I ought to exact a cruel reprisal for your transgression," Mephistopheles pondered, his claws delving deeper into Haarlep's flesh. "Yet, why waste such a delicious opportunity for my own entertainment?"

The acute slash of rending skin was all too familiar for Haarlep, a scorching emblem of their profound powerlessness. Mephistopheles' voice was thick with malevolent satisfaction as he coaxed forth the blood, a scarlet symbol of Haarlep's forced submission.

"Did you really think I'd allow you to go play house with the little hero?" Mephistopheles taunted, his grin wide, "Though who could blame you, you're such a simple creature. She's such a pretty thing, and her lifestyle is quite easy now, the perfect prey for you."

Haarlep ached to retaliate, but as they gathered their thoughts the air thickened with magic, and a metal collar snapped viciously around their neck. A short chain attached to it materialized shortly after, a representation of Mephistopheles' dominance. The sudden yank brought Haarlep's face crashing against the devil's foot, the impact a brutal punctuation to his enchained existence.

"I wonder how her flesh feels, how her body trembles when experiencing the most wonderful of orgasms," Mephistopheles speculated with a vile sneer, pressing his foot against Haarlep's lacerated cheek, grinding their head into the cold marble, "You have tasted her form, yes? Of course you have, all you do is take whenever you find discover a shiny new toy.”

Haarlep’s mind raced, seeking a sliver of opportunity, but the cuffs held firm, cutting into their skin even as their muscles strained against them. The bulging veins in their arms were a testament to their futile attempts, a visual chorus to the anger boiling within. Mephistopheles had always been a master of manipulation, playing with his subjects like a puppeteer with marionettes.

Incubi were creatures of persuasion and deception, and Haarlep had been among the best. It would take all of their cunning, all of their guile, but they were not devoid of options.

The command though that slithered from Mephistopheles' lips resonated like a death knell through the grand, sinister hall, a decree that stripped away the last remnants of Haarlep's autonomy. "Transform into her, my pet. Why should a mere incubus and my son be the only ones to savor such delights?" The devil's smile was a ghastly exhibition of his vile victory.

As Mephistopheles' claws sank into Haarlep's hair they were yanked from the ground. Haarlep's face was a canvas of conflict; rage and spite warred with a sadness so profound it bordered on mourning. The incubus longed for the past, a time when they were more than just a pawn in the infernal realm.

With a casual display of his infernal might, Mephistopheles transported himself and Haarlep back to the expansive, ebony throne that symbolized his ruling. There, he sat with an air of regal entitlement, his smirk a silent yet eloquent expression of mastery.

"We'll leave that makeshift gag around your mouth for now, her whimpers are all I need," Mephistopheles declared, a sadistic pleasure evident in his tone. His hand gently brushed Haarlep's cheek in a mock caress, a vile parody of tenderness. "Reveal the one who felled my wretched offspring, her form revealed in its entirety. I am eager to witness what will draw forth her screams.”

Was this the crux of it all, the reason Haarlep had fled with the assassin of the archdevil's son? How Haarlep had plotted Raphael’s downfall, seizing the chance when fate led you to cross paths...

As the cuffs that once bound Haarlep were removed, it was clear that their confinement was far from over. The true shackles were not of iron, but of the consequences that disobedience would entail.

Haarlep clung to the notion of causing the archdevil even a fraction of the agony the incubus had inflicted upon others, but they knew well that such a powerful being's soul was beyond their reach, beyond consumption.

Mephistopheles' patience frayed, and with a violent jerk of the chain, he forced Haarlep's gaze back to his own. "I don't have all day, incubus. If you don't do this I will force it upon you and then go claim your little play toy for myself."

In that moment of despair, Haarlep's resolve faltered as they grappled with the enormity of their situation. With an unusual heavy heart, they conceded to the will of the archdevil, understanding the grim cost of defiance.

A dance of black embers encircled Haarlep, a prelude to the dark magic that would transform them. The air crackled magic, the scent of brimstone a bitter fragrance heralding the change. And then, in a sudden conflagration, Haarlep's form shifted, the masculine lines of their body melting away to reveal the delicate, familiar contours of your own.

There you were, in all your likeness, a spectral mirage crafted from the incubus's flesh. It was a sight that would have filled any lover's heart with dread, even a chaotic demon such as themself. For in that moment, Haarlep was both present and absent, their own essence cloaked beneath the visage of the one they sought to keep to themself.

Mephistopheles leaned back on his throne, observing the transformation with a gleam in his eyes, a delight that only a creature of his malevolence could savor. Haarlep, now wearing your flesh, was a sight of haunting beauty.

"You do wear it well," Mephistopheles cooed, his voice dripping with a sickly sweetness. His fingers traced the air, as though he could manipulate the very soul of the illusion that Haarlep had become. "Now let us see if the performance is as convincing as the appearance."

Haarlep, despite being coerced into this vile charade, held onto a sliver of control. They would play the part.

Mephistopheles, gestured with an air of impatience, "Proceed," he commanded, "let us indulge in the fantasy that you are her. I want to savor the illusion before I partake in her."

Haarlep moved, each motion deliberate yet hollow, an echo of your grace, a puppet's dance with Mephistopheles holding the strings. They mimicked your mannerisms, wiggling your hips and tracing your stomach with your fingers.

The archdevil's laughter filled the chamber, a sound devoid of joy, empty and cold. "Yes, this will do," he mused, his gaze never leaving the figure before him.

Haarlep's performance continued.

“Come now, you can do better than this now.” The arch devils grin never ceasing, "I know this form quite intimately, dear Haarlep. I've watched her in the throes of ecstasy, seen the way she writhes and begs for release," Mephistopheles taunted, his lips broadening as he saw the pain written on the incubus's features. "And you… you've had the privilege of making her body sing with pleasure."

Their mind raced with thoughts of what would transpire when Mephistopheles’ has his way, the memories of times long past seared in Haarlep’s mind… How Mephistopheles would pass them around between the devils, a new plaything for them to use and abuse. Every thrust came a new beating, a new spiked whip… Even Demons have their breaking point...

Then the memories from just the other night come flooding into Haarlep’s mind, a night of ecstasy and tenderness, your soft wonton moans lingering in their ears still, the warmth of your skin, the sweet taste of your lips... The sound of your gentle breathing, the scent of your hair, and the comfort of your embrace... it all felt so far away now… The feeling of freedom…

In the beginning, your relationship with Haarlep was a mere play of games and lust, but as time spun its narrative, an unexpected bond had taken root. You bestowed upon them the gift of freedom, a gem of inestimable value for a creature shackled by the chains of servitude. Love, an enigma to beings such as Haarlep, had become the cornerstone of your existence together. Those nights enshrouded in their warm wings were not just moments of passion but sanctuary, a sacred space where you were not a master, prey, or a source of sustenance, but a cherished lover.

Yet those cherished moments would soon become tainted, marred by the touch of an imposter. Your body, the sanctuary you had entrusted to him, would now be defiled, sullied by the archdevil's depravity… And you would feel it all…

"Now then," Mephistopheles purred, rising from his throne. "Show me how she trembles."

…

The silence lingered, and then the first blow fell. A brutal backhand, a strike so hard it left the incubus reeling, staggering backwards and collapsing onto the floor, his face stinging from the impact- Your face stinging from the impact… Haarlep knows you felt that…

And you did, as you walked the market with Karlach you felt a sharp slap against your face, leaving you momentarily stunned as the pain flared up, forcing a pained whimper from your lips. Karlach had immediately stopped in her tracks, concern written across her face as she asked what happened, to which you gave a quick response, saying it was nothing. That Haarlep had probably irritated Astarion once again while in your form.

With Karlach pacified, you continued your walk, the ache in your cheek never fading. Yet you still couldn't shake the sensation that something was wrong, a cold dread settling in the pit of your stomach…

Your fears were confirmed when another wave of pain came crashing down, the feeling of a foot striking your gut as you doubled over, gasping for breath. Tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, a lump forming in your throat as the full extent of the situation became clear.

The archdevil snarled, "Don't make me repeat myself," the fury in his eyes a warning of worse punishments to come.

Haarlep's fingers curled against the floor as they steadied themself, struggling to their knees, your knees. The aches of the blows still lingered, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the heartache Haarlep was facing… Was this how Graz'zt felt when Tasha had left the Abyss finally all those years ago?

Haarlep couldn't stop the peculiar wetness that was beginning to stream down their face… Tears? The incubus’s eyes widened, tears? Reaching up they touched the foreign liquid they’ve yet to ever experience… Looking down at their wet finger another tear cascaded down from their- your eyes…

A mocking laughter cut through the silence, the archdevil sneering in response to Haarlep's tears, "My, how sweet. The vulgar incubus cares for her. Perhaps I will go fetch for her, keep her alive and have her watch the fun," he taunted, relishing in the incubus’s misery. "Or, perhaps not. I can’t help but to wonder how she'll fare after she feels me ravage you in her image. If she’ll ever be able to touch you again.”

Haarlep knew that was coming, the words he dreaded to hear... How long will he be trapped in this prison of his own creation?

“She’ll discard you like the object you are and you’ll have no choice but to come back here, the Abyss surely won’t take you back after being in my care for so long.” Mephistopheles chuckled, the incubus would never escape his grasp…

Mephistopheles stepped closer, his eyes dark with lust, the heat radiating from his skin a palpable energy. He reached out, his touch almost gentle, his claws running over the curves of your body, over the fabric of the shirt, and the skin underneath. There was a gentleness in his touch, a strange tenderness, as his fingers traveled lower, slipping between your thighs…

Karlach held onto you while your body shivered as foreign hands traveled over your body. The sensation of your legs being spread…

“It’s the fucking incubus! I told you not to bring that thing back! You can’t trust those-“

“I-it’s n-not… Ah!!-“

With a sudden ferocity, Mephistopheles seized the front of Haarlep’s shirt, yanking them forward and slamming their back against the ground, ripping the shirt in the process.

A gasp escaped your lips as Haarlep hit the floor, the shock of the impact momentarily stunning you. Your back ached from the impact, leaving you breathless as you felt someone straddled your waist, their weight pressing down against your hips. You could feel whos ever arousal it was roll their hips against yours…

Karlach looked you over, “Champ??”

Your breathing quickened, “n-no… something’s not right… H-Haarlep, he’s using my body, b-but-“ A piercing scream erupted from you suddenly as you simultaneously grabbed your neck. It felt like someone had taken a chunk out of your flesh… And that was exactly what had happened.

Mephistopheles looked down at Haarlep, the incubus’s blood dripping from his jaws. It had been so quick, so effortless, the ease with which he'd ripped into your flesh was chilling, “Mortals are so fragile, aren’t they? I’m surprised you haven’t broken her yet yourself. I remember how rough you can get, dear Haarlep.”

The sharp pain was all that filled Haarlep’s mind as they felt the blood pooling around your body, the wound on their neck throbbing with agony… "Such a lovely thing she is all bloodied, wouldn't you agree?" Mephistopheles didn’t wish to waste anymore time, he needed to feel you, and wished to know what made you so special. He leaned down, his hand grabbing a hold of Haarlep’s ankle and pulling their limp body towards him, their blood smearing across the obsidian floor.

Your head was spinning, and you couldn't focus on anything but the pain and the fear. It was surreal, a waking nightmare, the agony, the feeling of violation and helplessness. Another blood curdling scream filled the air, your knees buckling causing you to collapse to the dirt ground. You felt something large enter your body, ripping you open with a violent force. The stretch was so painful, and you could feel something warm begin to trickle down your thighs, but it wasn’t your arousal, it was blood… But it wasn’t actually coming from you… It was coming from Haarlep, from them using your body…

Your nails dug into the dirt beneath you as you cried out, your whole body trembling, a single word escaping your lips, a plea, a prayer, a name, Haarlep!

Karlach stayed by your side, her arms wrapping around you tightly as she held you close, “the fuck is happening!?” You could only respond with a pitiful whimper as you felt a cold sweat breaking out over your entire body, the pain becoming unbearable. The sounds of your cries echoing throughout the city.

The archdevil thrusted into Haarlep relentlessly, each thrust bringing with it a new wave of pain and a fresh round of blood. Mephistopheles growled as he continued to ravage the incubus, his hands gripping their hips, your hips, hard enough to bruise. Haarlep's body jerked with every motion, his blood painting the archdevil's cock crimson as he tore through your delicate flesh, his claws digging into the incubus' skin as he held Haarlep in place. It was as if the archival was trying to fuck through Haarlep, “I never had such an exquisite mortal before,” Mephistopheles laughed as he looked down at the incubus, his voice tinged with delight, “she really is to die for.”

Mephistopheles leaned down to grab hold of one of your nipples, and twisted it. And with each brutal thrust he’d pull on the delicate little bud, hard enough to force Haarlep off the ground slightly.

Your screams had ceased, the shock of what was happening finally overtaking you, the pain had become too much, and everything was becoming blurry. You felt sick, nauseous, and dizzy. Your heart was beating so fast, and your vision was growing dimmer, “…c-can’t… p-please…” your eyelids began to flutter shut as the searing pain in your chest and cunt began to consume you… “H-Haarlep…” Before death's cousin had you surrender to it, an image of your beloved incubus flashed before your eyes…

Haarlep felt the tip of the archdevil's cock slamming into your cervix, each impact tearing more of the flesh surrounding their entrance, the blood now completely covering their thighs.

The pleasure the archdevil felt was intoxicating, the ecstasy of feeling the lifeblood flowing out of the incubus through your delicate flesh wrapped around him like a vise. He was reveling in the power he wielded over both Haarlep and you, to reduce such a stubborn and defiant creature as this incubus to a quivering mess of blood and tears.

Haarlep's eyes never once shut, instead it watched and felt your body get thrown around, your body, soaked in ”your” blood... The feeling was something Haarlep couldn't quite describe... your insides, just completely and utterly ruined…

Your body was limp in Karlach's arms as she watched over your unconscious form. Rage plastered on her face as she gently carried you back to your home, "Please, Gods…”

The night continued like this for what felt like hours, you’d awaken only for pain to wrack your body. Your body quaking, your throat destroyed from the constant screaming. Your knuckles were white from how tight you were clinging to Karlach, but the barbarian didn’t seem to mind, she remained with you, holding you, comforting you. Until finally you felt a torrent of stranger's cum fill Haarlep, fill your abused cunt. You felt so full and warm despite nothing actually being there… Your eyes barely open while drool spills from your mouth…

Haarlep wreathed beneath Mephistopheles, at the feeling of the archdevil releasing into your body. The stretch was almost unbearable, the heat of his release a searing agony as it burned through Haarlep, seeping into their very core…

As you clung to Karlach and sobbed, your breathing was but a faint rasp, as you said with the last remaining of your energy, "Wh-where’s Haar-Haarlep…”

Karlach laid you down so she could fetch a potion for you to drink, when suddenly a figure materialized before her on the floorboards. It was Haarlep in your form… Unmoving with their eyes closed.

The tiefling woman reached for her great axe but before she could dismember the creature her eyes caught sight of their battered body, their tear-streaked face and the wounds on their neck along with… She looked away as she was met with the mess below Haarlep’s waist… “Hells…” She said softly.

Karlach could only look back at you, her heart heavy with the realization of the truth. She moved towards the fallen incubus and carefully picked them up, the bloodied mess staining her clothing as she made her way back towards you. She placed them down beside you, their eyes slowly opening as their hand rested upon your cheek.

She couldn't help but notice the way Haarlep’s thumb gently rubbed against your skin, and the way they used up their last strength to shift back to their true form so they could envelop you with their wings. Karlach's heart was filled with anguish as she saw Haarlep curl themselves around you, their embrace protective, shielding you from the cruelty of the world...

But it was too late, for you had already experienced the full wrath of that cruelty, and the incubus feared that you would never be the same after such a cruel night…