#shadowheart fic

[gaysindistress]

Things Shadowheart says

Things bg3 characters say masterlist

Shadowheart raising her brow when she sees your approach her tent, lightly teasing, “and to what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight?”

Shadowheart, dragging her thumb over your bottom lip, confessing "you know, I've been catching myself smiling more lately. I think that's your fault."

Shadowheart humming songs as she brushes your hair at night. 

Shadowheart, burying her face in your neck, groaning “must we be up so early? Can we not take one day to rest and relax?”

Shadowheart crying when she sees a statute of Shar and talks about her parents. 

Shadowheart whispering “I love you” before kissing your nose and continuing to get ready for the day. Shadowheart pulling you back against her chest, nuzzling at your neck, purring in your ear “my love, it’s been too long since I’ve worshiped your body.”

Shadowheart gripping your hips as you’re on top and moving them in time with hers, moaning “good girl, keep going. Let go with me.”

Shadowheart tilting your chin up with her middle finger, making eye contact with you, ordering “eyes on me, love. Focus on the sound of my voice and don’t close your eyes.”

Shadowheart handing you a chalice of wine with a gentle smile, saying "I was hoping you'd come to chat, my love. Join me for wine and warm company?”

[eliteseven]

BG3 Drabble: Everybody Wants Tav

Pairing: (named)F!Tav & Shadowheart

Words: 5.5k

Synopsis: Shadowheart and Tav share intense romantic feelings for one another, but are too timid and conflicted to act on them. Being the nosy group they are, the Tadfools hatch a rather idiotic genius plan: to flirt shamelessly with Tav in front of Shadowheart, hoping to spark Shadowheart’s jealousy, and galvanize her into action.  

Inspired by this ask :)

The fledgling relationship growing between Shadowheart and Tav is one of the worst-held secrets in camp. 

It’s universally acknowledged, by this point, that both women are more or less enamored with each other. 

Serena rarely misses an opportunity to include Shadowheart in the smaller groups she takes with her when they venture away from camp. They’re constantly side-by-side, whether in battle, or merely occupying the same log around the fire, come supper. 

They’d moved in relative secrecy before, that much is true. Shadowheart had insisted upon it, and though Serena was wounded by the notion that Shadowheart might be ashamed of their relationship, she’d respectfully obliged. 

The Gauntlet of Shar changed everything. 

Just…not outwardly. 

The night that Shar severed her connection to Shadowheart, the former cleric was inconsolable. Her dreams, her path in life, erased in the span of a single evening. A single trip to the Shadowfell had rendered her lost, without a goddess, feeling more alone than she ever had before. 

And of course, she slept in Serena’s tent that night…though she wept until the stars faded into dawn, her tears soaking through Tav’s shirt and into her chest. 

Though the rest of camp had remained respectfully silent, they saw with their own eyes the way Serena was Shadowheart’s first line of defense, her refuge when all else had been taken from her. They’d noticed the way Serena would come by her tent, multiple times a day, for the next two tendays, bringing her meals, sitting outside her tent when Shadowheart would attempt to isolate herself. 

There can be no questioning the deep affection they carry for one another; Shadowheart is different, around Serena. Lighter, happier,…Whole. 

But it is uniquely Shadowheart to deny herself happiness, so terrified of loss now, that she cannot bring herself to admit the full extent of her feelings to Serena. 

What is achingly obvious to nearly everyone else seems to elude the two central to the topic. 

Serena and Shadowheart dance around each other, even now- though Shadowheart hasn’t the courage to rekindle their moonlit trysts, she pines after Serena. She seems to gain more of herself- not her Sharran self, but her true self, every day. 

And though it might only be a matter of time before one of them comes to their senses and takes action, the group fears that time is simply a luxury they do not possess. Not only that, but the frustration between the two is evident. 

Serena nearly eviscerated a group of Bhaal cultists by Bloomridge Park, so tense as she was, with loads of pent up physical desire that manifested in a deadly swing of her blade. 

And not a day later, Shadowheart single-handedly laid waste to a vicious group of Sahuagin by the docks.

…Before anyone else could even catch up to her long, agitated strides. 

What started as a simple chase, a romantic back-and-forth, has been moving at a glacial pace, and the effects are evident. 

And that is why the group has called an impromptu meeting around the campfire, on this particular evening. 

Serena has chosen Shadowheart (to the surprise of no one), and Jaheira, to case the Counting House for infiltration. 

It provides the perfect opportunity to discuss the camp’s resident issue between their leader and healer. 

The forum is open for discussion- though it is not quite as tactical as any one of them had hoped... 

“...Well it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Karlach snorts. “Shads needs to ride her and be done with it.” 

“Agreed.” Astarion nods. “I mean, really, what is there to lose?” 

Lae’zel glances up across the fire through a slitted gaze. “What would she be riding?” She inquires, fairly solemnly, though confusion is evident in her tone. 

“...I’m not certain it’s any of our business.” Wyll admits, not unkindly. “They need to realize their feelings for themselves. And Shadowheart just went through quite the change.” 

“I agree.” Gale tuts. “Though…I suppose we could help them along, in several ways.” he stirs at the cauldron over the fire, and while the Leek and Potato soup is far from done, the scent is welcoming nonetheless. 

“They are fools. Their refusal to lay together will cost us all our lives.” Lae’zel counters sharply. 

…Okay, so maybe they had noticed Serena ogling Shadowheart, managing to fall off a dock in the Grey Harbor as a result of her lapse in focus. 

Who wouldn’t? 

“It’s not just matters of a…carnal nature.” Wyll sighs. “Can’t you see they’re in love? We can’t hurry that along any more than a flower can be forced to bloom before its season.” Wyll sips at his wine, shaking his head. 

“Love.” Astarion rolls his eyes. “It’s not as if we’ve parasites in our minds, or anything. By all means, why don’t we get them a room at the Elfsong and lock them in it?” 

“...We’re trying to encourage romance, Astarion, not starvation.” Wyll points out. 

“...Trust me, they’ll be eating.” Astarion grins. 

Lae’zel thinks for a moment, likely trying to understand the expression, and then smirks. 

Gale’s ladle falls into the cauldron and he hisses at the hot backsplash of soup. “Might we change the subject?” He laughs nervously, clutching the back of his neck. 

“Again.” Wyll clears his throat. “As I���ve said before, this is a matter of the heart. Delicate, like a flower-” 

“-Right, yeah, that’s all good.” Karlach snorts. “But did you see Shads the other day at Elfsong? When that maid accidentally got a good look at Tav in the bath?” Karlach shakes her head, grinning. “Gods, she was running as hot as I am.” 

“Oh yes.” Gale sucks in a quick breath at the memory. “I believe she threatened to give the poor lady a…what was it? Ah, yes, a good thrashing. …A bit terrifying, that.” 

Lae’zel snorts. “Her anger is better spent on the ghaik invader in our minds.” 

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Karlach points to her in agreement. “Why don’t we just…give them a friendly push?” 

Astarion scoffs. “Short of laying with our hapless leader in front of Shadowheart, how do you hope to accomplish that? The girl’s had every opportunity. Have we considered that Shadowheart might not desire Tav in this way?” 

“...That’s…not a bad idea.” Karlach muses aloud. 

“...You can’t be serious.” Wyll scoffs. 

Astarion quirks a brow. “...Well, don’t look at me. I’m not volunteering.” 

“I will lay with her.” Lae’zel sniffs. “If she is truly strong, she will emerge from this with a renewed sense of dignity…Or she will break.” 

Karlach looks a bit dumbstruck, to be fair. “...Ah, that’s…not really what I meant, ‘Lae. But…good to know…” 

A puff of smoke nearly puts out the fire, and before them manifests a figure of sinewy muscle wrapped suffocatingly around bone. 

“Withers!” Gale greets cheerily. “May we offer you a piping hot bowl of soup?” 

Withers turns his head slowly, surveying them all, before resting a hollow gaze upon Gale. 

“Thou shalt not.” 

“...Right, well, it isn’t ready yet, but you have some time to-” Gale’s fumbling is bypassed by a flourish of Withers’ hands. 

“Thou dost seek to bridge the chasm ’twixt thy healer and thy leader, dost thou not?” Withers asks gravely. 

“...We…Thy…do…” Karlach tries, shrugging helplessly as she nods. 

“Such matters do steer thee astray from the battles that yet lie before thee.” Withers tells them, sagely, as if they aren’t all simply gossiping together like a group of hens. 

“Really?” Astarion snorts. “We storm Cazador’s palace and you said and did absolutely nothing, but Shadowheart can’t seem to mount Tav properly and this warrants divine…or whatever you are…intervention?” 

“Yes.” Withers blinks coldly at Astarion, and the discussion between them ends there. “I shall craft a feast, that it might draw them unto one another.” 

He waves his hand, and the stew Gale has labored over for hours vanishes. 

“Hey!” Gale exclaims, turning to Withers with a look of utter shock. “I’ll have you know that was three hours in the mak- oh.” 

A veritable feast has been conjured behind them, a massive spread of the finest food and drink along a sprawling wooden table, previously where Tav had pored over warmaps, strategizing. 

Karlach gapes. “I didn’t…did you know he could do that?” 

Wyll grins. “This is truly a gift, Withers, thank you.” 

Lae’zel’s eyes narrow at Withers. “And yet, we’ve spent many evenings hunting when we could have been honing our skills.” 

“...A rare occasion, indeed, this evening.” Withers offers, turning to smoke once more as he disappears from view. 

Astarion gawks at the table behind them, with enough food upon it to feed the entirety of the lower city. “And not a single vial of blood.” He mutters, downing the rest of the wine in his chalice. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

The walk back to camp is tiresome, though every day since the loss of her faith has been exhausting, for Shadowheart. 

Conflict lies deep in her soul- regarding herself, her heart, and everything she ever knew- that she can remember, anyway. 

The moonlit walk with Jaheira and Serena is most calming, however, and Shadowheart feels an inkling of normalcy- whatever that’s supposed to feel like- setting in. 

Serena does not push. 

The night they returned from the Shadowfell, Shadowheart had shut down completely. She allowed herself to be carried into Serena’s tent, wrapped up in her arms, where she’d cried herself to sleep. 

Leaving her tent the next morning was one of the most difficult things Shadowheart has ever had to do in her life. 

Every fiber of her being had longed- still longs- to tell Serena the truth: that Shadowheart is desperately in love with her. Worse yet- that Serena is all she has. 

She had intended to tell her almost-lover right there and then, but the words died in her throat and crumbled back into ash in her chest. 

Shadowheart knows it’s foolish- how she’s withdrawn almost entirely, as of late- at least in a romantic sense. Everyone around her assumes it’s the loss of Shar- that it’s rendered her catatonic, emotionally. 

It’s not the loss of Shar that makes her hesitate, but the prospect of not being good enough for Serena. 

Doubt is something Shadowheart has warred with her entire life. Doubt in herself, at times- her faith, doubt in her goddess, her own history, always simmering beneath a placid looking surface. 

In truth, Shadowheart questions her value, now. Her very right to existence. Who is she, without her lady to guide her? What could she possibly be worth to Serena, now? 

She sees it in her eyes: the same adoration she feels for Serena, the feeling she tries so desperately to mask. It’s there, plain as day. 

Shadowheart doesn’t know what she did to fool Serena into ever thinking she was worthy of her affections, but now? Nameless, faithless, and without a true purpose? 

Shadowheart fears the one hand extended to her in kindness will recoil the minute she reaches for it. 

And so she leaves Serena hanging in a most cruel manner; though they have not touched- beyond the brushing of hands, or a bump in passing, Shadowheart keeps her suspended in mystery. She does not seek Serena out for nightly trysts, or stolen kisses beneath the silvery light of the moon. She does not attempt to poke her head into Serena’s tent every once in a while, under the guise of complaining about whatever Lae’zel said, or discussing “strategy” for their next battle. 

She has all but ceased their romantic contact, without ever once sharing an intimate word with Serena on the subject. 

And it’s not as if Serena doesn’t have her fair share of suitors…

Shadowheart’s blood boils as she recalls the way the young maid in Elfsong had gotten to drink in the sight of Serena, one bare leg perched above the bathtub as she cleaned herself, before hastily apologizing and backing out of the occupied room. 

It should have been Shadowheart, and she should’ve been joining Serena in that bath. 

Serena had been a modest and fair sport about the entire ordeal, but Shadowheart wonders if, perhaps, she liked it? 

They’ve been traveling for some time now, and Shadowheart feels her own most base desires, seeping into her thoughts increasingly. It has been some time since she’s been held, since she properly joined with another. The ache between her thighs is consistent, and she knows her thirst could only be quenched by one other soul. 

But Shadowheart has lost her confidence, and though Serena did make something akin to a mewling noise when she first saw Shadowheart’s change in hairstyle and color, Shadowheart wonders if perhaps she’s lost her appeal. 

Instead, she often retreats to her tent early, or to the nearby stream. She confesses her love of Serena to Scratch and the Owlbear instead, because she knows her secrets are nowhere safer in camp than with them. 

She glances back at Serena now, talking with Jaheira as they pause right at the border of their camp, marked by a single barrel Karlach had haphazardly thrown to the side. 

Serena glances back at her, and again, they share a longing glance, before Shadowheart severs the eye contact and turns away to her tent. 

Her heart can’t take much more of this. 

“Shadowheart!” Wyll waves her over to the fire in the distance, and Shadowheart’s stomach grumbles in response to seeing a veritable mountain of food, laid on a table, banquet-style. Her eyes widen in surprise.

Perhaps Raphael made a visit to camp in attempts to doom them all, again. 

Shadowheart finds she wouldn’t particularly mind, this time around. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

A party.

They’re having a damned party. 

Gale fiddles with a lute.

Shadowheart didn’t even know Gale could play the lute. Gods know he wouldn’t be able to shut up about he’d played, likely for Mystra, at a time, if he could. 

That in itself is suspicious. 

Let alone the massive banquet that has seemingly appeared from thin air. 

“Gale’s magic!” Wyll had explained, rather hastily. Withers let out something akin to a cough on the other side of camp, immediately after. 

Why Gale would wait until this point in their journey to switch from laboring over a cauldron for hours to simply manifesting a feast upon a table, Shadowheart cannot guess. 

But it goes deeper than that. 

Wine flows, and there isn’t an empty chalice in the group- despite the fact that they have nothing to celebrate, as of late. 

With Orin on the prowl, and Gortash moving methodically, they have their work cut out for them, and it’s hardly the time to dance around the fire, as Karlach seems to be doing. 

“C’mon, Shads!” Karlach prods, as Shadowheart sits at the table, likely brought out of her hidey-hole for a meal she intended to eat in isolation. “Dance with me!” 

Shadowheart has the grace to wear a sad smile as she extends her polite rejection to Karlach. It almost breaks her heart to do so. 

Karlach is happy, fun, a bright flame that she would only smother with her stormy mood, as of late. 

“You sure?” Karlach asks, a touch softer, but Shadowheart chews slowly on a piece of bread, her eyes locked instead on Serena. 

Across the fire, Serena has removed her armor and changed into her camp clothing. 

Her new camp clothing, gifted to her by none other than Figaro “facemaker” Pennygood. 

Her new, backless camp clothing. 

Karlach stifles a snort. “...Well, we’ll be here if you change your mind.” She offers, but Shadowheart is long gone. 

Shadowheart watches as Wyll- that damned, honorable, charismatic, beautiful man- sidles a touch closer to Serena, on the log they occupy. 

Shadowheart quirks a brow. 

Serena does, too- she offers her plate to Wyll in an innocent gesture, likely curious as to why he’d choose to sit with her alone. 

Wyll chuckles and declines. 

Shadowheart struggles to hear them over the crackling of the fire and Gale’s song on the lute, but she strains to listen, anyway. 

It becomes evident when Wyll stands, bowing in a formal sort of way, before clearing his throat, “Would the lady give me the honor of a dance?” He asks. 

Serena glances behind her, almost comically. “...Me?” She blinks, wearing a look of utter surprise. 

Shadowheart inwardly rolls her eyes. 

Serena cares little for reminders of her past life in nobility. In fact, her hatred of the patriar traditions runs so deeply, that often times, she will-

Serena is smiling. 

Shadowheart cannot tell if she wears a blush, or if the fire has simply heated her cheeks. 

…Perhaps the fire has fried her brain, too, along with the tadpole in it- because she accepts Wyll’s hand with a rather confused, but amused smile nonetheless. 

“I think…You and I might have been here, before.” Wyll teases- though Shadowheart isn’t certain what he means by that. 

Serena and Wyll ran in the same circles, in their youth- both from powerful patriar families, attending the same gatherings, abiding the same traditions. It’s well and truly possible that he and Serena have danced, courted each other, even- in their youth. 

Shadowheart doesn’t realize the way her face is scrunched up in utter disdain at the mere thought, until Lae’zel smirks at her from across the table. 

Shadowheart peels her eyes away from Wyll as he twirls Serena in time to Gale’s music, and she glares at Lae’zel. 

Though Lae’zel has stopped antagonizing her, and Shadowheart considers the Githyanki a friend, more than anything- that doesn’t mean there aren’t times in which they still enjoy the thrill of a back-and-forth. 

But tonight, Shadowheart hasn’t the energy. 

“What?” Shadowheart snaps, trying not to stare at Serena through the dancing flames. She laughs, and Wyll joins in. He dips her, with a careful hand along the small of her back-her bare back- and Shadowheart’s fingers curl under the table. 

“Curious. I have not seen you so angry while eating.” Lae’zel remarks. “I was told you would be satisfied once you and Tav ate.” 

Shadowheart blinks. 

This night just gets stranger and stranger. 

“I’m not very hungry…” She lies. “And...am I supposed to know what you’re referring to?” Shadowheart scoffs, feeling old Sharran sentiments surfacing for a moment, and forcing them down. There’s no need to act so biting- not when everyone is in such high spirits. 

Scratch nuzzles Shadowheart’s ankle under the table, and she smiles softly, scratching behind his ears. 

“Hello, you.” Shadowheart whispers, and Scratch tilts his head up on her lap. He pants, and he looks like he’s grinning at her, making her heart flutter with an innocent happiness. 

A twig is deposited in her lap, only half covered with slobber and drool. 

Shadowheart grimaces, but laughs softly, accepting her fate. “You want to play, boy?” She coos, rising from her seat. 

She glances at Serena one last time, laughing as Wyll bows to her, and she feigns a curtsy, the image of soft elegance and grace, despite the humor with which she’s approached the request. 

Shadowheart turns away, curious as to when Serena and Wyll have become so very close. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

The uproarious laughter from the campfire makes it hard to concentrate on her game of fetch with Scratch, despite how much Shadowheart tries to tune them out. 

It’s already hard enough forcing herself to be out of her tent, when she wants nothing more than to crawl into it and die, but a party? 

To be fair, Serena seems equally as perplexed by their companions’ sudden change in plans, but she seems to be adjusting decently, all things considered. 

She joins Karlach in a drinking game, and when she laughs out loud, Shadowheart cannot help but gaze over, longingly. 

And of course, she meets her favorite amber gaze, because there isn’t ever a time in which they don’t look after each other longingly, after a few moments. 

Shadowheart’s eyes nearly pop out of her head when Karlach reaches over and brushes a drop of ale off Serena’s lip with her thumb, rather intimately. 

Serena freezes in place, her own eyes wide and bearing shock as she blinks a few times, as if she’d just imagined the blatantly flirtatious move. 

She touches her own lips for a moment in surprise, and then laughs the entire ordeal off somewhat awkwardly. 

Karlach smiles all the while, “Cute, soldier.” She comments at Serena’s dumbstruck expression, before reaching to open another bottle. 

Shadowheart feels her lip curl in disdain. 

Cute?

…And, yes, Serena is cute- but since when has Karlach thought so? 

Shadowheart tries to busy herself with something as menial as fetch- it normally brings her endless joy, watching Scratch bound over with the ball, eyes twinkling in delight. 

But Serena is usually a few feet away, often prattling on about a book she’s enjoyed, or writing in her journal, and that’s what’s missing, as much as Shadowheart doesn’t wish to acknowledge the fact. 

Serena has become a pillar in her life; a fixture that cannot be replaced. 

Only, Shadowheart hasn’t told her as much. 

Serena sits back down on the log by the fire, and this time, it’s Gale who leans against the foot of the log she sits atop, glancing up at her by tilting his head backwards. 

Shadowheart pauses mid-throw, eliciting a very confused whine from Scratch, who nearly leaps in the air in anticipation. 

“Fancy seeing you here…” Gale announces in his best debonair tone. 

“...In camp?” Serena clarifies, wearing a look of utter confusion. “...Where…I live?”

Gale hesitates for a moment. “Ah…well, no, but…here. By the fire….with me.” He adds. 

Shadowheart doesn’t know if she should laugh or cry. In all honesty, she’s starting to question if the wine is poisoned, and she’s merely hallucinating all of this. 

“...It is supper time.” Serena offers in a most confused tone, almost as if she’s asking a question. 

“...Fair point.” Gale concedes awkwardly. “Although, I must ask, would you be opposed to spending a little time observing the heavens with me?” Gale gestures to the night sky, alight with stars as bright as Selûne’s tears. 

Shadowheart snaps the twig she’s holding in half. 

This has to be in jest. 

Scratch barks at her in retaliation, and Shadowheart startles, as nearly the entire camp glances back at them both. 

“...Sorry, boy.” Shadowheart sighs, shoulders slumping as she drops the ends of the twig. “I don’t think I’m much for games right now.” She admits. 

Scratch bounds away after a moment, towards the campfire, likely choosing alternative companionship, after that pathetic display. 

She sets off towards her tent, her mind a messy web of entangled thoughts and sentiments, weighing her entire being down. 

She nearly trips over Scratch when he deposits a familiar red ball at her shoes. 

Shadowheart cannot help it; she laughs softly. 

She glances backwards at the campfire, curious as to where he’s found his favorite toy, and her questions are answered when Serena smiles at her from across camp, gesturing to her pocket. 

Of course she’d carry Scratch’s favorite toy around; there’s a reason she’s consistently his favorite. 

Shadowheart feels butterflies in her stomach all over again. 

Serena is always there for her, even in the midst of being (very poorly) courted by Gale, it seems. 

Shadowheart decides to humor Scratch, and the love of her life, and stay out a little longer. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night almost feels normal, for a moment. 

Shadowheart has found her way back to the fire, and she occupies the same log as Serena, this time. 

The way it should be. 

Their pinkies barely brush, resting on the log in the space between them, and that alone sets Shadowheart’s soul ablaze. 

The post-supper conversations are amusing, and they all take turns trading stories, laughing at each other’s most outlandish tales. 

It’s only when they begin to put out the main fire, and slowly retreat to their respective tents, that Shadowheart’s companions begin to act oddly, once more. 

Shadowheart swears, only Jaheira has exhibited normal behavior- and that is because she saw the feast, took a plate and a glass of wine to her tent, and retired early for the evening. 

Shadowheart doesn’t know how, but she’s beginning to understand that Jaheira can foresee their youthful tomfoolery before it happens, and promptly avoids it, every time. 

Although this behavior…it goes beyond simple tomfoolery. 

As Serena rises from the log, and stretches- she exposes a patch of midriff that has Shadowheart’s mouth dry. 

But it’s her craning, exposed neck, as she stretches, that seems to draw Astarion’s attention, from across the fire. 

“My..what a pretty thing.” Astarion coos, taking a step closer. 

Serena narrows her eyes defensively, pausing mid-stretch. She glances beside her, at Shadowheart, and then back at Astarion, as if she’s unsure who he’s referring to. 

“Just think…all this to drink, and yet, I haven’t had my fill.” Astarion purrs, as he approaches Serena, red eyes locked on her neck, flitting down to the plunging neckline of her suit. 

“...Then you’d better go hunting.” Shadowheart grits, stepping forward in front of Serena in a protective manner. 

It feels eerily like their dynamic on the first few nights at camp, only this time, Shadowheart gives voice to her concerns. She gives voice to the jealousy, brewing in her heart. 

“And what if I already am?” Astarion grins. 

“Ah…” Serena clears her throat, wearing a look of bewilderment. “...What is…I’m not certain that…is it me, or has everyone lost their minds this evening?” Serena blurts out, flustered and at the ends of her diplomatic rope. 

“Yes.” Shadowheart folds her arms, glaring at them all. “They have.” 

Their campmates exchange odd looks, but no one responds immediately. 

It is Lae’zel, who clears her throat, standing from her seat on the log beside Wyll. 

Shadowheart’s shoulders relax, as do Serena’s. 

With Lae’zel, there is no “beating around the bush”- she will deliver answers, in a clipped, no-nonsense tone, once and for all. …And then they can all just retire, and put this oddity of an evening behind them. 

Lae’zel stands face to face with Serena, and sighs. 

And then she kisses her. 

A full, open-mouthed, cheek cupping kiss- bold and passionate, with a warrior’s spirit, like everything Lae’zel does. 

Shadowheart’s gasp echoes louder than an explosion, or, so it seems. 

She is frozen, rooted to the spot, as Lae’zel kisses Serena for a moment, and pulls away with a little smack of her lips. 

Serena, poor, stupefied Serena, simply stands there in shock. For the entirety of the kiss. 

Her eyes are wide, her expression is stunned, and the first thing she does is blink. 

Slowly, owlishly, she turns her head to Shadowheart, asking the silent question they both seem to share, in that moment: What the fuck just occurred? 

Serena glances back at Lae’zel with an indecipherable look; she’s well and truly broken. Her eyebrows are still in her hairline from shock, and Serena swallows, audibly. 

“...I too desire you carnally.” Lae’zel sounds as if she’s reading a sign, without any intonation, any sign of emotion in her words, other than, perhaps, annoyance. “I would like…to eat you. Or…ride you. …As I would a dragon.”

Serena gapes. 

Shadowheart blinks several times, still trying to affirm if this is reality, or a hallucination. 

The silence that follows can only be described as awkward. 

“Hah!” Astarion guffaws, the sound of his delight ringing through camp. 

“Gods.” Karlach mutters, burying her head in her hands. 

“I…” Serena croaks out a single word, but pauses, brow furrowed as she tries to process the whirlwind of events she’s just endured. “...Well, that was…” She trails off, at an utter loss for words. 

Shadowheart doesn’t know what to think.

She has watched every camp member, save for Jaheira (Shadowheart’s new favorite), flirt with Serena. 

She just watched Lae’zel devour Serena with a kiss. 

…Any hesitation within her is well and truly gone. 

She takes Serena’s hand, and stalks off, towards Serena’s tent. 

Serena follows very eagerly, all too happy to follow Shadowheart, away from all her potential suitors. 

“Where are you two going together?!” Karlach calls after them curiously. 

“To sleep!” Shadowheart snaps, and she smiles, when she hears the camp erupt into cheers by the fire. 

“It’s about time!” Karlach shouts, cupping her mouth with her hands so the words carry. 

They do, and Shadowheart finds herself in agreement. 

It certainly is. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

Words feel unnecessary as Shadowheart ties the tent flaps of Serena’s tent closed, and practically tackles her to the bedroll. 

Serena gasps as Shadowheart kisses her passionately, so intent on making her forget the image of Lae’zel doing the same, despite it being a method of provocation, and nothing more. 

“I…” Serena gasps against her lips. “Heart…” She pleads, and though she grabs Shadowheart’s hips, keeping her anchored to her, there is a moment’s hesitation in her voice. 

Shadowheart pulls away, lips tingling. 

“I didn’t…that wasn’t…” Serena fumbles for words. 

“I know.” Shadowheart whispers amusedly, heart racing in her chest. 

Serena looks beautiful, even in the dim candlelight of her tent. 

“I…I’ve been trying to get your attention for…” Serena trails off. Tendays, at the very least. 

“I know.” Shadowheart affirms softly, stroking her cheek. “You have it.” She promises, tenderly, straddling Serena’s lap. “I should’ve said something sooner, I shouldn’t have been afraid…” She trails off, shaking her head. “But…” She worries her lip. “I want you, Tav, so badly that-” 

And they’re kissing again. 

It’s a mess of emotions, sweet kisses alternating between more passionate, heated ones, but it’s beautiful, all the same. 

“I couldn’t stand…” Shadowheart hisses as Serena’s lips kiss a trail against her jaw, ever reverent in how she regards her, how she handles her. “...Seeing you…with anyone else…” 

Serena nods, frantic, as Shadowheart rolls her hips against her, whining softly, making her brain implode, momentarily. 

“We…” Shadowheart gasps as Serena kisses her neck. “Need to…talk…” 

Serena pauses for a moment. 

“After? After.” Shadowheart nods frantically, pressing Serena down into the bedroll. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following morning is bright and uplifting. Golden rays of sun wash over the camp, birdsong fills the air, and Shadowheart and Serena emerge from Serena’s tent, hand in hand, wearing lovesick expressions. 

Withers greets them both, first, on their way to the campfire for a spot of breakfast. 

“Ah, thous hast acquired a new bosom companion. I trust all unfolded as fate intended?” Withers nods to himself, eyeing their joined hands. 

Shadowheart exchanges a dubious glance with Serena. 

“...Yes.” Serena clears her throat, offering a smile to Withers despite his curious terminology. “We are…bosom companions.” She mutters the last part, but smiles genuinely at Shadowheart when she begins to snicker at the term. 

“Then all is as it should be.” Withers nods, and disappears before them, leaving Serena standing there, glancing at Shadowheart curiously. 

“Bosom companions…” Shadowheart remarks playfully, bringing Serena’s knuckles to her lips. “I suppose it sounds…tamer than lovers.” 

“We’re more than that.” Serena promises, and then glances around conspiratorially. “...Even he knew about us?” Serena whispers. 

Shadowheart smirks. “I’m starting to realize where the feast, and Gale’s lute-playing abilities came from, last night…” 

Serena’s eyes widen in realization. “...Well, I’m flattered by the concern, I suppose. Breakfast?” She turns to Shadowheart curiously. 

Shadowheart smirks at her. “But we already ate…” she drawls innocently, batting her long eyelashes and causing Serena to pause. 

She draws Serena into a slow, languid kiss, standing on her tip-toes as she bunches Serena’s collar in her hands, pulling her flush against her. 

Resting her forehead against Shadowheart’s, Serena wears a stupid smile as they part. 

Shadowheart mirrors it, allowing herself to bask in genuine happiness for the first time in a very long time.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Look who it is.” Astarion drawls as Serena and Shadowheart approach the campfire, where Gale hunches over a cauldron again, rubbing his lower back. “I nearly starved last night, thanks to you.” He sniffs airily. 

“Because of us?” Serena clarifies, and frowns. “Astarion, if you truly need my blood-” She begins, and Shadowheart visibly bristles at the mere notion. 

“-not that.” Astarion rolls his eyes. “You see, not a single creature in these woods stuck around after that racket you made.” 

Shadowheart pauses midway through lifting a water skin to her lips. 

Serena pauses as Gale loads stew into her dish. 

A cursory glance around the fire tells them that Astarion is not fibbing, this time. 

Wyll is asleep atop his log, his hand dipped in a cold bowl of stew. 

Karlach, with dark circles under her eyes, fights sleep as she lifts a spoon to her mouth, but fails, and drops the bowl all over herself, finally succumbing to sleep. 

Lae’zel leans on her sword, planted into the ground before her seat, but her eyes close and her head droops periodically. 

Gale’s mage-hand keeps him supported every time he leans over, sleep-deprived as he is. 

Only Jaheira looks well-rested, whistling as she joins them at the fire. “Good morning to all.” She greets, and then takes stock of her companions, frowning. “...What happened here?”

Astarion shrugs. “A lot of eating and riding, by the sounds of it.” 

Jaheira sighs, taking her bowl and turning back on her heel, right for her tent. 

[dailyunstableeve]

Fluff and Angst

Shadowheart x reader (no specific gender)

My maladaptive daydream made me write this. No proofread.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .

You woke up with Shadowheart next to you, you couldn't tell how long she was looking at you sleeping. You didn't question anything and just pull her closer to you, snuggle up with her, embracing her warmth. This isn't the first time you wake up with Shadowheart looking at you, you remembered the first time, she told you, “you look so adorable when you sleep and I want to take in the peace we fight so hard to get and now we're here next to each other with nothing to worried about.”

Shadowheart gave you a kiss on the forehead and both of you drifted back to the dreams with you in her arms. 

When you wake up again, you're no longer in the embrace of Shadowheart. You were in confusion for a few minutes until you smelled the scent of freshly baked bread, the bittersweet of coffee’s scent coming from the kitchen. You quickly wash up yourself and skip your way towards the kitchen, excited like always to eat Shadowheart’s cooking. 

“Look who finally woken up,” you made your way next to Shadowheart, she gave you a quick morning kiss and passed you a plate of mixed fruits, you made your way to the back door and got welcomed by all of the animals both you and Shadowheart adopted. 

“Good morning to you all,” you chuckled as you watched all of them circling around you, you picked a space and placed the fruit plate on the floor. The pets couldn't wait anymore, they were already digging in. 

You returned to Shadowheart, hugging her from her back, planting soft kisses on her neck, wondering when the breakfast would be done. You turn into a koala bear, you cling onto Shadowheart everywhere she goes until both of you are seated down by the dining table. 

After breakfast, Shadowheart and you will have only different duties, she will be grooming the pets while you'll be cleaning up the house. 

You looked at the art portraits of you and Shadowheart painted for each other by the fireplace while you're cleaning. You remembered that day, both of you used the shade of the tree to block out the sun, holding hands, watching the pets running free on the field. You brought out the paints and two empty canvases, challenging her to paint, then let the pet pick who painted better. 

You painted the colourful flower field with Shadowheart standing in the middle, how the wind gently blowing by, lifting the silk of the dress along with it, Shadowheart had her hair down, white as snow, pure, looking like a princess who finally discovered freedom. 

As for Shadowheart, she painted the moment when you, her and all the other party members reunited again, the joy on your face, the hair that she braided for you that night, the perfect details. 

The competition was a close call when Shadowheart asked all the pets to pick who’s the winner. Shadowheart won the competition because of the squirrel she adopted a few months ago. The squirrel has been your little enemy since then, all because she kept on sticking onto Shadowheart whenever you wanted to hang out with her. Months passed, you and the squirrel made peace, all thanks to the speak to animal potion, both of you talk out the terms. 

Time flies fast when you’re focused, the chores have been done so you and Shadowheart decided to sit out at the bench, enjoying the afternoon breeze. You rested on Shadowheart’s shoulder as she rested on top of your head, enjoying the cold tea you have brewed while cleaning up the house. 

Since Shadowheart had made breakfast for the day, you take the turn to cook dinner. Shadowheart would sit on the counter, sipping her favourite wine, drinking the sight of you cooking. Whenever you pass her just to grab something, you will take a chance to steal a few kisses from her. Meantime, she will tell you about all the adorable things the pets did during the day, and you can hear the pets responding to Shadowheart’s comments from their shed just by the kitchen window, you will just laugh along because Shadowheart will try to argue back with the pets while she basically on the losing side but that doesn’t stop them to have a cute interaction. 

After dinner, both of you will take a walk by the beach, taking off the shoes, allowing the sea to brush through both of your feet, the coldness that brings refreshment. Holding hands, walking next to each other, Shadowheart would look at you with those lovely eyes, listening to every word you say, perhaps some old story you haven’t told her yet, she listens to it all. 

You and Shadowheart ended your day filled with activities, it’s time to hit the bed. The squirrel will be sleeping in above both yours and Shadowheart’s head, you feel the warmth from Shadowheart’s hand, running gently on your arm, causing a little tickling sensation. You would try to ask her to stop, despite you enjoying it, having Shadowheart’s touch on you, makes you feel alive, belonged. 

You snuggled up to Shadowheart, you could hear her calm heartbeat, like a lullaby. Shadowheart gave you a kiss on the forehead and fell asleep together. 

Morning arrived, you opened your eyes, finding yourself alone on your bed. You got out from your bed, washing up yourself then sit in front of your study table, turning on your computer, staring at your screen as a voice played, 

“Good, I was just starting to miss the sound of your voice.”

[nocturnalcharm]

Famous (Shadowheart x Fem!Tav)

𐙚 prompt: shadowheart and tav travel together after the nautiloid crash. after finally finding some other companions, shadowheart finds out tav is a famous bard. 𐙚 cw: fast paced relationship lol, nautiloid trauma, events changed a bit (wyll knows karlach isn’t evil), brief fights 𐙚 a/n: ty for the req <3 hope i did it justice! i’m so awk w ending fics so ahhhdhdhfhdh ok bye

18+ blog!! you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any of the above makes you uncomfortable, do not proceed.

You felt the warm sun and sand on your body, but this wasn't a tropical vacation. This was a nightmare. As you came to, you remember all of the details, the nautiloid, the tadpole… the crash. You opened your eyes slowly, and rose to your feet.

Patting yourself down, you didn’t see or feel any injuries. You inspected your hands, making sure nothing was broken or bruised. It felt silly, almost. You could’ve been severely injured, or dead even, but you wanted to make sure your hands were fine, to make sure you could still play your lute.

You had somehow landed safely on the beach. Looking around, you see another girl. A beautiful girl. You don’t recognize her from the ship, but could only assume that’s why she was laying in the sand, unmoving.

You ran over towards her and shook her slightly to wake her. “Please, wake up.”

After a few moments, she jolted awake, just as confused as you.

“How- How are we alive?” She says, hesitantly, as if she’s nervous that her voice won’t make it out of her throat.

“Not sure. Not sure I care, though.” You laugh, lightly.

She huffs with a smile, before turning to you, “Are you okay? Are you injured?”

“No. Perfectly fine. Are you? Do you feel any pain?” You worry.

“I’m.. fine. I think. As fine as I can be, with this wretched thing in my head.” She pushes herself off the ground, “Alright, let’s go.” She's dusting the sand off her clothes.

“You want to stay together? Um—”

“Shadowheart. And of course. It’s a smart idea, after everything that’s happened, don’t you think…”

“Tav.”

She smirks. “We could both use the company while we try to find a way to get these things out of our heads.”

You hid your blush, hoping she would assume it was just a stress-induced rash. “Yeah. Good idea.”

Both of you scrounge around to find supplies, unsure if there were any settlements nearby. By the time you had gathered enough food and found some weapons, it was dark. You still had yet to run into anyone else, only the dead bodies strewn about.

“Do you want to sleep now or keep trekking on?” You asked. It was obvious that she was the leader in this situation, but you didn’t mind. She had more of a rational head on her shoulders.

You two hadn’t really ventured far from the crash, just followed the coastline a bit. Possibly because you were expecting people to come investigate the ship, rescue you.

“Let’s lay down. We’ll find a camp tomorrow, hopefully. But we should rest.”

You agree, laying out the two bedrolls you found earlier. The gentle waves crashing on the sand made you feel a little more at peace.

“So, tell me your story.” Shadowheart inquires, with a smile.

“What do you want to know?” You secretly hoped she didn’t know who you were. You were a pretty famous bard, and lots of times it meant people were insincere towards you, or fantasized about you, leaving you with empty relationships.

“What do you do? Who is ‘Tav’?” She smirked again. You could tell she really didn’t know you, and that made your heart flutter with the possibility of a genuine connection, not disguised by the glamor of fame.

“Hm. Well, I’m from Baldur’s Gate. I live with my Godfather.” She didn’t need to know your Godfather was Duke Ravengard. “I’m a bard… Not sure what else there is to know.” You laughed, awkwardly. “Tell me about you.”

She goes into brief detail about her life, just about as much detail as you did. You can’t help but smile while she talks. She was so breathtaking, so interesting.

You didn’t even realize how close you two were, and now you couldn’t stop thinking about it. It made your breath stop in your throat. Despite your status in Baldur’s Gate, you had never had a relationship with someone before. You were so cautious around anyone you liked, worried the link between you was artificial.

Before you could say anything else, she was leaning in. She grabbed the back of your head, pulling you in softly. Your lips touch hesitantly, only for a moment, before she pulled away.

“I’m sorry!” She stands up from her spot and starts to walk away, pacing around. “I don’t know why I did that!”

“Shadowheart!” You shout, to get her attention, and stop her from rambling further. “It’s fine. I.. liked it.” You started drawing in the sand, embarrassed of your admittance.

“You did?”

“Did you?” You ask, ignoring her question.

“Yes. I just didn’t know if it was too soon. We’ve just met.” She sits back down next to you.

“Yeah, and in the next five minutes we could turn into mind flayers. I don’t know if I care about the appropriate length of time to wait before kissing someone.” You joke, earning a laugh from her.

“I suppose you're right.”

“We should probably sleep, though. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.” You worried for a moment about your future, before pushing it out of your mind completely.

You lay on your bedroll, watching Shadowheart. She pushes her bedroll right up to yours. You roll over to face her, and you two end up staring at each other, studying the details of the others face.

“You’re so pretty.” She whispers.

***

You wake up, but don’t open your eyes. You’re listening to the sound of the water, and the wind breeze through the tall, rustling mergrass. Once you do open your eyes, you see Shadowheart, already awake. She was sitting up, looking at you, with a soft smile upon her lips.

“Good morning.”

Her simple words cause you to blush. “G’Morning.” You mumbled, sitting up, “What’s the plan for today?”

“Find a camp, find other survivors, find a healer.” She helps you up, then wraps up your bedroll for you.

You just nod, still tired. You pack up the few things you found the day before, but as you start to head out, you hear something behind you, coming from the area of the crash. You look over at Shadowheart, panic in your eyes, not wanting another fight.

“Behind me.” She commands.

You do as she says, grabbing the long sword you had found on someone’s body yesterday. As you do, a few goblins come around the corner, ready to attack.

Shadowheart hurls a fire bolt at the old barrel next to them, instantly wiping out three. With only one left, you ran over, and in an instant, raised your sword high and slammed it back down, piercing the goblin through his chest

“Are you okay?” Shadowheart ran over to you.

“Fine. Let’s just get going before there’s more.”

She nods, taking a deep breath and continuing her walk. You lock your arm with hers, keeping close by her side.

“So, you said you're a bard?” She asks, attempting to lighten the mood, “Do you play the lute?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Are you good?” She inquires, seriously.

“I’d like to think so.” You laugh. If only she knew…

“Maybe, you can play for me sometime.” She flirts.

“I’d like that.” You blush.

You both venture farther than you did the previous day. Eventually, you see a path to follow. Assuming it took you somewhere good, you decide to follow it. You and Shadowheart took turns, telling stories from before the nautiloid, about your lives; indulging each other. It was so obvious both of you were smitten from the moment you laid eyes on each other.

Continuing down the path, over a river, and through some shrubbery, you eventually see a man. He was tall, with braided hair…

“Wyll!” You shout, absentmindedly dropping Shadowheart’s hand and running to him.

“Tav?”

You hug him tightly, “M’fine! Oh my Gods! I can’t believe it!” You pull away to look over at Shadowheart, clearly confused.

“Shadowheart, this is Wyll. Our families have known each other for years! We can trust him.”

Her protective demeanor fizzles away as she sees he’s not a threat… To your lives or the possible budding romance.

She nods as a greeting, and he waves.

“I found Shadowheart after the crash. We stayed together last night. Wait, you do know about the crash, right?” You ask him.

“I did. Are you okay? Were you on the ship?” He asks you both.

He didn’t seem to know about the tadpoles. And since you weren’t sprouting tentacles from your chin, you decided to just leave it for now. “Yes. But soon, we’ll need a healer.”

“Alright. I’m actually heading out now, but there’s a camp right over there, past the wall. The guards should let you in—”

“Where are you going?”

“I have to find someone— a friend. You’re welcome to join.”

You turn to Shadowheart. She hesitates before saying, “We’ll come.”

You knew Wyll wouldn’t say anything about your musical activities. He knew you liked to just be ‘normal’ sometimes, so he wouldn’t bother to bring it up.

“So, who are we searching for?” Shadowheart asks.

“Tiefling named Karlach. She’s tall, got one horn.”

“And why are we searching for her?” She retorts.

“That’s a long story.” He voices, clearly not wanting to go into details.

You grabbed Shadowheart’s hand again, following Wyll.

***

“Fork in the road.” Wyll announces, “You two go North. I’ll take the long way ‘round and meet you up there.”

“Ay Ay, Captain.” You salute him, jokingly, and follow the dirt path up North.

You trudge up the hill, looking around for a one-horned tiefling. Shadowheart was the one leading the way, so you just followed. She held your hand steadily as you crossed over a river, ensuring you didn’t fall, but she stopped right in her tracks.

“Tav, look.” She nodded over to a secluded little spot, with a red tiefling in the middle of it. She continues to approach her; The tiefling not even noticing. “Karlach?” She calls out, cautiously.

She looks up quickly, “Hello?”

“Hi. We’re with Wyll. He’s trying to find you.”

“Oh, thank Gods! I tried searching for his camp but couldn’t find it!” She grabs her bag that was previously on the ground. “Let’s get to it, then. I’m Karlach— but you already knew that.”

“My name is Shadowheart, and this is Tav—”

She is cut off by Karlach’s squeak.

“Oh my Gods! It’s Tav! The Tav! It’s really you!” She is so giddy, practicing up and down.

“Oh. Heh..” You blush heavily, glancing over at Shadowheart to see her reaction. “Yes. That’s me! It’s nice to meet you, Karlach.” You give her a big grin, not wanting to come across as rude or unappreciative of her clear admiration for you.

“I can’t believe it!” She gushes.

At this point, you hear someone approach you from behind, peaking over, you see Wyll.

“Wyll! You didn’t tell me you know the Tav!”

“I guess it just never came up.” He looks at you with apologetic eyes, and you smile a forgiving smile. “Let’s get headed back to the camp.. before the goblins hear you screeching.” He jokes with Karlach, and they start the journey before you and Shadowheart.

Once you’re alone with her, she immediately asks, “What was all that about?” She didn't seem angry, just confused.

“Well. I told you I’m a bard.. I just left out the ‘famous’ part..”

“Famous? You’re a famous bard?”

“Yeah, sort of…”

“Oh my Gods…” She was silent for a bit. “You let me blabber on about wanting you to play for me! And asking if you’re any good! I can’t believe you let me make a fool of myself!” She playfully slaps your arm.

“I’m sorry. I hope you aren’t upset with me.. Most people try to take advantage of me the second they find out. I just didn’t want that to happen again. I really like you.”

“I really like you, too.” She reiterated. “A lot. I would never do anything to hurt you, or make you uncomfortable. I know we’ve really only just met, but I mean it.”

The grin plastered on your face couldn’t get any bigger. “That means a lot.”

“Now, c’mon. Let’s follow them to the camp.”

[saltygirafe]

don't come at me for this

i'm still working on chapter 7 i SWEAR i'm making progress but everyone is misbehaving and it's a struggle lol

to maybe make the wait a bit uh...worse? better? you tell me.

here's the titles for each part of the fic

(part 1 being I'll Give A Little Bit)

They're technically all song lyrics but not all the songs are relevant as a whole.....can you guess what songs they're all from?

also wip AMA I guess if you crave answers as much as I do lmao ok i go back to writing now

[optiwashere]

In which I keep posting super kinky, gay Shadowheart/OC fic, but decide to post the link to Tumblr to see if people use these tags for fic posting?

Rating: Explicit (bold, with a capital-E)

Category: F/F

Ship: Shadowheart/Trans Fem Tav, Shadowheart/Trans Fem OC

Chapters: 1/3. I have all 3 written. Gonna post them when I have the chance to edit.

Tags in the read more/you can just click if you read "kinky Shadowheart fic" and had to know.

Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Trans Female Character, Dom/sub, Painplay, Bondage, Sex Toys, Cunnilingus, Aftercare, Dom Self-doubt, Half-Orc Tav, is the trans character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Additional Warnings In Author's Note

[cronchy-baguette]

shadowzel nation rise up!!!

[eldritchelfwriter]

Hi Everyone!

Everyone calls me Eldritch now so I guess it's stuck. I'm a writer of Baldur's Gate 3 fanfics on AO3. Shadowheart is my absolute fav and where most of the attention is, but I'm also Dame Aylin's number one fan. This is what's up and what's on the cards storywise:

Shadowheart Begins

COMPLETE

A Shadowheart/Tav F/F love story as Shadowheart learns about and to love. Tav in this story is a shy, half-elf storm sorcerer called Florwyn, and you will see quite a different side to Shadowheart while she's catching feels.

We're aiming for peak healing in this story, where by the time you get to Shadowheart saying she wants to be with Tav now and always, you will hopefully believe that they have a healthy non-codependent future ahead of them. (Tav may be shy, but she doesn't put up with bs). Lots of healing power of love and friendship abounds!

Artwork of Shadowheart and Florwyn

Reaching for you (a what if? one shot)

COMPLETE

Someone asked what Florwyn would do if Shadowheart killed Nightsong and I couldn't stop thinking about it. So this is a spin off of Shadowheart Begins, where Shadowheart becomes a Dark Justiciar.

Synopsis: it's twenty years since the Absolute has been defeated, and Florwyn finds out that the Sharran Church is to be declared a terrorist organisation and a bounty placed on the head of her old flame, Mother Superior Shadowheart. She can not help trying to bring her old friend back to the light, one last, and very final time.

Recommended to have read at least up to chapter 10 of Shadowheart Begins first.

One Hundred Years of Anger

IN PROGRESS

A work that tells Isobel and Aylin's love story right from when they first met, catching up to the events of the game and then afterwards.

This work (though not yet apparent from the posted chapter) will have some crossover with Shadowheart Begins eventually. This a multi chapter work.

Artwork of Aylin & Isobel (their first kiss scene from the work)

I'll Be Your Light

PART 1 OF 2 RELEASED

Between the fascinating ranger who walks assured of her purpose and the tadpole in her head, Shadowheart has plenty to keep her occupied without discovering that she is a werewolf.

But as she struggles with her faith, her growing feelings toward Kat and her new form, the worst happens ...

Can Shadowheart and Kat find light in the darkness? And given her goddess' domain is the darkness, does Shadowheart even want to?

A wolfheart story for people who are not fond of werewolves.

Sequels to Shadowheart Begins

DRAFTING

At this stage it looks like there is going to be a 'prequel to the sequel' and then a sequel all post game events. A significant amount has already been written, so watch this space!

Unnamed What if?

IN SKETCH

An upcoming thus far unreleased one shot based on the premise: what if Shadowheart made a different decision at the House of Grief? Florwyn POV.

Baldur's Gate 3 fics I recommend

[rinny-rae]

What Could Have Been

Chapter 2

Summary

The tadfools form a plan to rescue Wynn

Characters: Shadowheart POV, Astarion, Jaheira, Orin

Rating: M

Word Count: 2K

Tags/CW: This one is just a few friendos adventuring. Still grimdark but SFW for once!

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

Tick Tock

“Wynn is not in the dungeons,” Astarion yelled into Shadowheart’s ear, straining to be heard over the constant clank of metal on metal.

Shadowheart flinched at the unexpected sound of his voice, missing the vial and spilling runepowder all over the desk. The passage of time felt abstract underground. Rather than relying on things like clocks or sun positions, Shadowheart now measured time in the number of bombs she had put together. Astarion has been gone for exactly one hundred and thirteen. Wynn, for four hundred and twenty six.

”Could they have moved him from the fortress without the Harpers knowing?” she asked and moved to bite her nails but realized her hands were covered in explosive chemicals and thought better of it. She carefully swept the loose runepowder onto a piece of parchment and directed it back into the vial.

Astarion moved to wipe a streak of soot from his cheek with the sleeve of his formerly ivory shirt. He only smeared it further.

“Either that or our beloved archduke has him in some private torture chamber.” He picked up an empty bombshell from the heap and stared at it, wrinkling his brow. The dark circles under his eyes have only gotten worse since she last saw him.

Shadowheart shivered despite the sweltering heat. She shoved her chair aside and began circling around the handful of feet of unobstructed space.

“It certainly does complicate things,” Astarion admitted bitterly.

“Few things are more certain than the existence of a private Archducal torture chamber,” grumbled a burly dwarf who slumped on the floor a few steps away. He leaned one hairy arm on a crate of metal slags, taking greedy bites out of a loaf of sourdough bread. Shadowheart had forgotten his name but was reasonably sure he was the blacksmith.

“Here’s to hoping Jaheira brings some better news,” Shadowheart said.

The Ironhand Clan hideout brimmed with frenzied energy. Two forges roared at the center of the cavern that the gnomes converted into their base of operations. Smoke billowed and pooled around the fires. Too heavy to escape through the hastily constructed vents, it covered every inch of the space with a thick layer of grime and made Shadowheart’s eyes water incessantly. An unrelenting river of workers, almost all deep gnomes, flowed around the two forges.

Shadowheart took a deep breath, coughed and willed herself to sit back down. Breaking Wynn out of the dungeons would have been a piece of cake but things were never simple, were they?

Opposite the forges stood two rows of tables littered with a miscellany of tools. Hammers, chisels and empty bombshells were strewn about every surface. Under the dim light of torches, a dozen gnomes put together all manner of explosives.

Shadowheart noticed Laridda hauling a sack of grain practically the size of her body and absentmindedly waved to her. The small woman waved back, then tripped over a mold that lay forgotten on the ground.

The blacksmith finished his meal and, with a groan, lifted the crate of metal he had been leaning on.

“This one's for Wulbren,” he clarified to no one in particular before shuffling away.

A fluffy cat, somehow pristinely white despite its surroundings, hopped onto the pile of chopped wood beside Shadowheart’s desk. It yawned and moved as if to stretch but its small body continued to elongate in all directions, shedding clumps of fur. It grew and twitched, an uncanny mix of beast and human. Astarion wrinkled his nose and turned away, still twirling the empty bombshell in his fingers.

“I found Wynn,” Jaheira said, smoothing back her long silver hair and brushing a pile of white fur off her lap. Laridda appeared seemingly from nowhere and handed her a black cloak. Jaheira smiled appreciatively, covered herself and studied the room for a long moment before Astarion finally butted in.

“Do share with the class,” he said.

“Would you get me something to draw with, dear?” Jaheira said to Laridda.

She waited for the gnome to leave before turning to Shadowheart.

“Nothing happens in Baldur’s Gate without the Harpers knowing,” she whispered and winked.

A vaguely familiar tiefling child weaved his way through the mass of workers. Moving with spring in his step as if out for a lovely stroll, he bound over to Jaheira and handed her a package wrapped in thick linen. She nodded and whispered something in his ear. The boy beamed, tapped two fingers to his forehead and slunk away.

“They’re holding Wynn on the top floor,” Jaheira said tucking the package away, “across from the lordling’s own quarters but blessedly, in a bedroom and not a torture chamber.”

Shadowheart bit into the stubby nail of her index finger tasting the bitter explosive powder and then the salty copper of fresh blood. The difference between a bedroom and a torture chamber was but a matter of circumstance.

Laridda appeared again with ink and parchment in one hand and two flashblinder grenades in the other.

“All we can spare for the moment,” she said apologetically as if the gnomes haven’t repaid their debts a thousand times over.

Jaheira passed the grenades to Astarion and began writing, mumbling under her breath.

“We could go through a window,” Astarion suggested.

“No, you can go through a window,” Shadowheart corrected.

“Besides, the issue isn’t so much going in as it is getting out.” She bit the nail on her middle finger and watched the blood pool around the grungy cuticle.

“Last I checked Wynn doesn’t fly and he sure as hell can’t climb down a fortress wall,” she added.

Jaheira nodded, scribbling something.

“We must speak to him,” she said, “there may be a way we could use this to our advantage.”

Shadowheart crossed her arms and began pacing once again; The idea did not sit well with her.

***

Shadowheart pulled her cloak tighter and stared straight ahead, weaving through the crowd. The crimson glow of the setting sun flashed in the few windows that hadn’t been shattered or boarded over.

Rivington looked more dour by the day. The Flaming Fists received firm instructions not to allow any refugees into the city proper which meant the outskirts were flooded with the dispossessed. Forced to sleep in the streets, they took to erecting makeshift shelters to protect themselves from the elements as best they could.

A bearded man grabbed Shadowheart by the elbow, pulling her into his chest as if for an embrace.

“You’re one of them Sharess’ Caress lasses aren’t ya?” he said, licking his lips, assaulting her senses with the rancid stench of alcohol and sweat. Shadowheart recoiled and spun out of his grasp. The man lurched, spat at her feet, and stumbled away shaking his head, looking offended.

“Gods, this place is positively vile,” Astarion said, stepping closer to her and discreetly placing one hand on the hilt of his dagger.

“The city has plenty of resources to accommodate the refugees,” Jaheira said, forging ahead. She pushed past a group of shouting women and slipped a scroll out of the sleeve of her cloak. A stout half orc bumped into her, grumbled something into her ear and disappeared into the crowd, tucking Jaheira’s scroll away beneath his shirt.

“This situation is hardly the fault of the people,” Jaheira added.

“This way,” she said and, urging her companions on with a small wave, dipped into an alley between two dingy buildings. The alley stank of piss and rot. A frail beggar girl huddled against the wooden fence that separated it from the cliffside and the river below. Across the river, insurmountable walls of Wyrm’s Rock loomed, barring free passage to the city.

The beggar reached for Astarion, her pleading stare that of a wounded animal.

“Shoo, get out of here,” he hissed, waving her away.

The girl scurried around the corner and faded into the gap between the crooked buildings.

Astarion hoisted himself on top of the fence and, squinting against the fiery sunset, extended a hand to Shadowheart. She took his hand and hopped up beside him.

Once atop the fence, she peered over at the cliffside that plunged into the river; Her head spun.

”No way I’m getting down there in one piece,” she shook her head.

Astarion rolled his eyes and, with an air of casual indifference, vaulted over the fence. Jaheira’s black cloak dropped to the ground and a white raven emerged. It soared above the fence and over the narrow expanse of the river, perching atop a boulder on the other side.

Shadowheart pointed her soot-stained fingers at Astarion and muttered two spells in quick succession. A cloud of fine mist engulfed him, then absorbed into his skin making him glow a faint blue.

“Wish me luck,” Astarion cooed. He blew Shadowheart a kiss and dashed toward the cliff’s edge, hurling himself off and sending a shower of gravel and twigs raining upon the calm waters below. Rather than plummeting to certain death, his body glided over the water and landed gently on the other side.

The white raven cawed and began preening itself.

Shadowheart shielded her eyes and watched until the two disappeared into the thicket beneath the fortress walls. She hopped off the fence, snatched Jaheira’s discarded cloak and headed for the alley’s exit.

A small voice trailed after her.

“A spare coin, miss?”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes but tossed the black cloak to the urchin as she walked past. It wasn’t much but the kid’s own clothing was no more than rags.

The revolting sound of snapping bones froze Shadowheart in place.

“Look at it, weep and wail and pity the innocent, ripe for the slaughter.”

The unmistakable singsong cadence sent a twinge of panic through Shadowheart’s chest.

“Orin,” she spat the name out like a bite of rotting meat. Turning on her heel, she frantically rummaged for a suitable weapon.

The changeling cocked her head too far one way then the other, blinking her milky pale eyes. With a mad grin she drew closer, lithe and careful, stepping silently - a wolf on a prowl. Shadowheart thought to run but that would only serve to thrill and hardly prolong the inevitable.

Besides, Shadowheart was no prey.

She fished out the vial of runepowder and shook it at the changeling, fixing her with a stony gaze.

“Recognize this?” she spat, “or is your brain too rotted from your so-called worship?”

Orin grinned even wider and pointed the split tip of her dagger at Shadowheart.

The curves and ridges of the metal made it seem organic - the glistening tongue of a monster ripped from its maw with her bare hands. The blade itself and the Netherstone encrusted in the hilt glistened the same grisly crimson as the suit of human flesh that Orin wore for armor.

“It means to kill us both,” she snickered and licked the blade almost salaciously, circling her quarry, testing for weakness.

“You make allying with the tyrant sound tempting,” Shadowheart said and forced a faux-confident smirk.

A venomous shadow fell over Orin’s face.

“Do not let the lordling hiss hot air into your worm-weakened brain. His throat spits lies,” she snarled.

”I’m well aware,” Shadowheart said, smirking in earnest now, “any other pearls of wisdom you care to impart?”

“Your doe-eyed sweetling brat already sings into the tyrant’s ear,” Orin said with a distinct undercurrent of mockery in her voice, “and so your seconds and minutes and hours cowering in the gnome pit are numbered.”

She stuck her lip out pretending to cry.

Shadowheart bristled, sickened by the implications.

“Wynn would never…” She started but trailed off into a bitter silence.

Wynn was a scared little boy, alone and helpless, left to his own devices.

“See for yourself tonight, tonight, tonight,” Orin licked her blade not taking her pale eyes off Shadowheart, apparently delighted by her reaction.

“Tick tock,” she pranced, retreating into the shadow, “tick tock.”

She disappeared in a puff of smoke leaving Shadowheart alone in the alley. Trembling, Shadowheart slumped against the stone of a crumbling façade and hugged herself.

[bhaalbabebardlock]

The End

One shot, single chapter; 3,118 words

Tags: major character death warning, smut, F/F

Summary:

Second person Shadowheart POV

After taking her place as Bhaal's chosen, your lover decided at the last moment to destroy the crown and give up her claim. You have one last night together.

*******

~Some is below the cut; the rest is on AO3~

Writing Masterpost | AO3 Link

********

It was so quiet, too quiet really as you ran your fingers through her tangled curls. She was so beautiful. Even now. Even when you knew what was going to happen.

She poured light into every dimmed, aching part of you the way nobody ever had before, or probably ever would again. Her unmatched talent with her blade had astounded you again and again. Her feral grace that she moved with more than once had saved your skin, her hands that didn't have a right to be that gentle tending to your wounds.

She had made a fire start inside of you that was so bright, it blotted out your love for your goddess. For the cruel way Shar had taught you that you needed to be. She held you while you wept, while you grieved the loss of all you had ever known and she held you again after you released your parents from what would have been a tragic ending, a life they didn't deserve after so much sacrifice. She had kissed you a thousand times with a tenderness that you knew was only for you, her nimble fingers touching parts of you maybe nobody ever would again. There was nothing more blissful than the way she would curl up to you at night, her arms wrapping around you as she pressed her face into your hair. As she told you that there was nothing more painfully beautiful than you bathed in the glow of the moon. How wrong she had been, to say there was nothing more beautiful than that when she existed.

You didn't know what you expected, when she accepted her place as his chosen. You certainly hadn't expected her to defy him at the last moment, the light basking her in its glow as she threw that crown into the river below. I want to be free. The freedom she wanted now, that she didn't even understand she wanted before, it was already too late for that.

And Bhaal made sure she knew that. Made sure you both knew that, as her eyes filled with tears, a soft smile ghosting over her face. I will go mad. He will not let me live a happy life. But you could give her a happy ending, couldn't you? You could hold her this way, her head resting in your lap as you pull your fingers through that wild valley of curls, listening to the softness of her breath. You could hold her and you could both remember a time that was softer, when you both believed that you would be able to be together, to find a happy ending amongst the chaos and ruin the illithids had left behind.

You could both remember how much you had loved each other, how much you still loved her even now as you watched her chest rise and fall. Would it be selfish to wake her up? To ask for her undivided attention on this last night between you? You hadn't known what to say when her tear soaked face turned to you and asked you to help her. Help her end this. Let her be free.

You wanted to tell her no. You wanted to pull her into your arms and promise her that you would do whatever it would take to protect her, to save her from this fate, to give her the freedom she wanted. The two of you, together, the way it was supposed to have been. But you had already shown that you were nothing more than something to be rejected, cast aside by one god and her cruel hand. Who were you, as hunted and vilified as you were by the cloister, to try and defy yet another God? To render useless the cruel destiny he had given your lover, to cleave him in two with your own hands instead of consigning her to this? Even if you could pull the moonlight out of your blood and smite him, would it be enough to save her from the rot he made bloom in her skull?

Would it haunt you, that you hadn't tried? That you let her tell you there was no other way but this, for her to lay in your arms and for that light, the only light you have maybe ever known, to leave? Was that justice? That she gets no end better than this after everything she did, everything she sacrificed, everything she was. To you. For you.

Link to the rest on AO3

[yorqia]

Princess Shadowheart 🌙✨🪻

[yangcherie]

bathing.

𐀔 pairings: cast (astarion, gale, wyll, lae’zel, shadowheart, karlach, halsin) x female!tiefling!tav (reader).

𐀔 content warnings: suggestive, everybody is a little freak, non-consensual voyeurism, implied scent kink (gale), mentions of scars, afab anatomy. tiefling anatomy.

𐀔 sypnosis: what is a warrior to do when all their companions are peeping toms?

𐀔 author’s note: they are freaks and its been very long since i’ve written. please forgive a lady if what she’s written is unappealing.

“Can you keep it – fucking quiet?!”

Astarion whisper-yells at the entire party of people hiding within bushes and treelines, all fighting tooth and nail like rabid animals for a peek (and taste) of their ragtag, frustratingly attractive leader’s curves.

They didn’t even mean to stumble into eachother, each to their own blindly traversing through the thickets of the woods towards the nearest river. Tav simply mentioned having to retire early to take a bath (much to Gale’s dismay), and they all hungrily jumped towards the opportunity like dogs to a meatless bone, the one of the hopefully many chances they’ll see you naked, vulnerable, and shivering – even if it’s only due to the lack of warmth in the river’s streams.

It’s wrong, debauched, even. Hells, even literal devils, Karlach and Wyll, wear faces ridden with shame. Of course, they (namely Astarion and Lae’zel) poked at the others stalking as if they weren’t shamelessly doing the same.

The tension in the air was thick, each a barrel on the verge of explosion ready to wipe out the recently discovered possibility of rivalries and competition – but they couldn’t blame eachother; there was just something about you that made you so very enticing. They all thought it was incredibly silly to think only one person would want you.

“Well,” Astarion clicked his tongue in displeasure, having his private time foiled. Still, he smiled sardonically. “we’re all degenerates, it seems. We’re all looking forward to having a... fun time.”

A deep rumble came, and it surprisingly did not come from the forest ground. It was simply Halsin, all too polite and calm smiles. Astarion groaned; he was sick of this big fucking oaf with hearts for eyes and a log of wood for brains. “We are not depraved for simply yearning to admire our friend in a state of tranquil—”

“Oh, please! Don’t act like a saint in front of me!” The vampire spawn huffed, hands on his hips. “We’re all here for the same reason, we all want to see Tav fucking naked, no point in lying now!”

Tints of red and pink all rushed to everyone’s faces, and even Shadowheart was reduced to fiddling with her fingers together. Though awkward coughs ensued in the air, not a single word of denial was uttered.

Karlach is first to speak up, ever brazen. “It’s true!” She says with her signature sharp smile. “I wanted to see her tits!”

(Lae’zel and Astarion nodded approvingly to Karlach’s honesty. Halsin and Gale quietly shared their sentiments on their preference to your ass. Shadowheart and Wyll could not disagree to both.)

Amidst their busy conversation and debate regarding your body’s fine qualities, the alarmingly close and approaching noises of branches snapping and leaves crunching had rendered them silent, panicked shivers and goosebumps on their skin. With shared glances and only a few split seconds to react, the party floundered and flailed for whatever they could use to stay hidden.

“Settle down, you circus; Tav’s coming!” Wyll is the first amongst the party to silently and comically dive into a bush with Karlach, clutching their tails to avoid it rustling about in excitement. Halsin had thrown Gale and Astarion atop a tree’s thick branches before joining them. Lae’zel, disappointingly, camoflauges just well with the greenery, watching Shadowheart flounder about and settle for lying on the ground with grass over her face.

“All you filthy ska'keth.” Lae’zel hisses, letting everyone know of your now visible presence, the halting of your footsteps along the other edge of the river. “Enjoy the show.”

Across the distance, their focus had been shifted to you and now solely you.

You quietly groan, trudging towards the river you’ve been searching to no end, you set down your basket of fine oils, herbs and waxes as your armored limbs ache and practically cry for a dip in the clear stream. With no haste, you take in the cool night air, this little moment of peace, away from prying eyes you’ve fought long and hard to obtain. Sweat trickles down your throat, your tail swaying in contentment in the calm atmosphere.

Quickly deciding you’ve had enough of the crisp air, you reach towards your body to unclasp and unfasten the many buckles on your durable armor – starting with the iron top, quickly taking it off to reveal your bare, battle-worn chest and hastily discarding the metal on your legs, throwing them aside in favor of letting the cold air bite at your naked, scarred body before you go into the water; allowing your body a little moment of respite from the suffocation and heat of tight, bloody armor – even letting your tail sway around freely instead of being constricted to being stiff. A content smile creeps its way onto your face.

You lightly step your way from the sand to the edge of the water, continuing to walk until you’re trembling from the cold, until you’re hips-down in the water. A grateful sigh is pulled from your lips as you start to wade about, your hands subtly working to wash the dried blood, gore and grime off of your body and hair – using the oils and wax soaps of sweet woodruff and wine from your basket, even scrubbing your horns. A little part of you finds this normalcy almost unfamiliar, uncomfortable; it’s been quite a while you’ve taken care of yourself. Your thoughts start to drift; prior to your abduction by the Nautiloid ship, were you ever taken care of, like this? By other hands, even?

(You hope so.)

Another sigh is dragged out of you, though wearier as guilt treads within you. Just a little moment of peace, of indulgence before you go back to the dreadful task of keeping your companions and yourself alive and fighting. Just a little more time. You think you deserve it.

A silence was washed over the forest, and the party as they all beheld you and your battle-worn body. It felt almost sacred, like doing this would have them damned to the Hells and below but it was simply too captivating. Your bodice was a web and a product of war, and they were caught mesmerized – with only the dense forest and one another to witness their quickly unravelling need for you. But even then, they felt some semblance to pity. What they wouldn’t give to the gods right now to be by your side and give you some tending to.

The ridges down your back, the swaying base of your tail, the alluring image of your hips and ass teasingly disappearing into the water below, the silhouette of your horns – that untroubled smile on your lips – they all drink it in with their eyes in a fashion similar to Astarion’s throat would with your blood.

They savor it for as long as they can, before stepping out of the trance as Gale himself not-so-quietly attempted to clamber down from the rough-bark tree he was settled in, dropping down to the dirt and crushing the leaves loudly and ungracefully. Shadowheart gaped with mortification at him from the ground, everyone wishing to every god above you would have mistaken the sound as a particularly large animal, perhaps an owlbear and not a wizard along with an entire party intruding on your privacy.

“Gale! What in the Nine Hells are you doing?!”

Astarion had settled for whisper-yelling once again, pointing at him accusingly from his position atop the tree’s branches besides Halsin. Gale waved his hand, silently telling him to shut the fuck up, before urgently pointing at your discarded armor and clothing, then proceeding to give him a big smile and two thumbs up.

Surely enough to the mortification of the party, he quickly cast Misty Step over himself to travel to your area and hastily swiped (stole) anything soft – including your unattended bandages and undergarments, taking a small moment to put it to his nose and re-casting the spell to return below the tree within a few seconds. He wallowed in his pride before with a swift motion, tucked the newly acquired materia into the pockets of his robe much to the discomfort (and mild envy) of all of them.

“A man has to do and take what he can.” Gale reasoned to nobody in particular, nodding solemnly as if he just shared a piece of wisdom. He suppressed a yelp as Lae’zel then threw a rock at him, followed by another as Astarion thwacked a small branch straight to his forehead from above.

“Just leave it.” Wyll snidely commented, fighting with his life to tear away his eyes from your moonlit form, breaking out of a trance. “We should leave, go back to camp. It’d be suspicious if everyone just disappeared.”

“Ugh, you are such a killjoy, Wyll.” Astarion rolled his eyes but complied, scaling down the tree quietly, much unlike Gale earlier, who was still fiddling around his pockets with your intimates. “A party pooper, even.”

As repulsive the idea to leave you was, it was reasonable. Begrudingly, everyone quietly sat up or climbed down and quietly attempted to find their way through the dense, dark forest, sharing little observations and hushed chitchat along the way. And soon enough, the party found themselves in familiar territory, now gathering around and settling down near the campfire like they previously had before you announced your leave, as if they didn’t just claw their way through eachother earlier to see a scrap of your vulnerability.

The fire cast a warm glow over the party as they immersed in chitchat, a few (namely Shadowheart and Astarion) pestering and even offering a bargain to Gale for the underclothes he had nicked earlier. The wizard was not deterred; fair and square, he wagged his finger as if to say nuh-uh to the seething two. It was only shortly after, that you came stumbling back into camp like a lost fawn, hair and body language calm and loose but the armor remaining stiff on your body.

Karlach coughed to let the others know you had arrived from your personal time. “Soldier! You’re back!” You greeted her with a nod, before raising a brow and sweeping your eyes amongst them. Gale swallowed, placing a protective hand over the pocket that held your garments.

“You would not believe what happened.” You sighed in utter distress before plopping yourself down besides Halsin and Astarion on the log to let the fire embrace you with warmth, piquing everyone’s interest and attention with intense ease. “A wandering owlbear ate my clothes.”

They all collectively either guffawed or choked on their spit, Lae’zel scoffing and Astarion groaning amongst them. Right. Of course, you would have thought it was a fucking owlbear. Thieving owlbears that take normal, musky clothes instead of shiny armor.

“Ah, owlbears.” Gale tutted and sighed with faux sympathy, nervously chuckling and shifting to hide the lump in his pockets. “They’d eat almost anything, really.”

Astarion shot him a bewildered look, as if to ask, don’t you? You swallowed two of my books last night!

“You can borrow my clothes, for the night.” Shadowheart butted in, suddenly slotting herself behind you and setting a reassuring palm on your shoulder. You smiled at her, gazing up at her gratefully. “Thank you, Sha—”

“Well, you can have my clothes!” Karlach and Lae’zel shot up in unison.

“Sharing your old filth, I can sew them new clothes!” Astarion argued, until everyone started refuting eachother and proposing that you take theirs and whatnot.

You sighed with exasperated fondness, immensely troubled but somewhat used to it as you watch your companions pointlessly banter, having little doubt that by the end of the night, you’d have a fair share of everyone’s wardrobe into yours.

Still, you hope to the very bottom of your heart that the “owlbear” that stole your clothes had a full tummy, at least.

[eliteseven]

Relationships: Shadowheart/Tav (Baldur's Gate) 

The road to Baldur's Gate is a long one, and there is never dull a moment for Shadowheart or Tav. Bonding, romance, jealousy, accidental doses of truth serum, intentional injuries, and camp hijinks are just a taste of what Tav will endure before all is said and done.

A collection of oneshots/drabbles focusing on Shadowheart x (named) F!Tav.

[dustybones]

lil scene redraw from @tadpoleeater's fanfic

[ichiro-artosaki]

farmer'zel

[saltygirafe]

WIP Wednesday Saturday

Oops I'm late lol tagged by @foibles-fables

Here's a glimpse at chapter 7(DISCLAIMER: I'm super unsure about the chapter as a whole and will likely move things around a bunch still. But some things deserve to be shared)

Shadowheart huffed out a laugh. "Really? You're just going to put all the blame on yourself? Did I not know better, I would think you were trying to make up for something. Displeased your Lady lately?" There was a long minute, during which Shadowheart grew convinced she would never get an answer. Verena's silence grew, molded itself to the sounds of the night around them, stuttered with the fire as it cracked brighter, but never lifted.  The answer, when it came, was silent too. A glance, gripped with the claws of a long buried shame pulled back overground, lingering between them over the dancing flames, tangled in the mess of emotions swirling.  Shadowheart saw it, clear as moonlight: fear. Verena was terrified of whatever she was trying so hard to turn her back on. It haunted her, and at the crest of midnight, it kept her awake. Clearly bothered by the tension, Astarion cleared his throat, "I'm sure she's displeased many, in her time." It earned him a disapproving glare from Lae'zel (Shadowheart's thighs squeezed together against her will, pulling her awareness back to where heat had settled).  With a sigh, eyes to the stars with a silent prayer, Shadowheart got up. "Come on." Verena's brow did the thing it always did when she was confused; a small notch, only on one side. It broke the stillness of her face just so, and Shadowheart drank it in like wine. "I'm not letting you go to bed with those burns." "I've already told you —" Her throat opened up, dropped her voice low. "Don't make me drag you to the river." At the surprise, the new flavor of shock morphing Verena's face, Shadowheart allowed herself a proud smile. She'd stolen that trick from the Selûnite, who clearly never expected it to be turned on her. Everyone looked at her as if she'd stripped entirely naked. "What?" "Oh, we've tried to convince her as you snored," Astarion told her, waving a hand dismissively. "She's stubborn as a mule. And very strong." As if to prove him wrong, Verena handed Lae'zel her bottle and stood, dusting grass off herself as she did. "I'm going to bed," she said, instead of following. In all fairness, it was as good an option. Only problem being that it wasn't what Shadowheart had asked. "Gods, you're so prickly," she groaned, hand to her hip. "You'd almost convinced me you were wise and mysterious, but you're really just throwing a tantrum, aren't you? Scared of a little healing magic? I won't bite." She glanced at Astarion. "Unlike some." "Yes, well," Astarion pouted, taking a long drink from his own bottle. "I was promised some fresh blood tonight, but given the circumstances…you can have her instead. It's fine."

No tagging from me because I never know who's working on things >.> but if you see this and post WIP, tag me :D