#that's why i hung out with shadowheart

[shaniacsboogara]

think i fucked up my shot with shadowheart 1929484 dead 183847392992 injured

[moonselune]

Hello! Hope all is well with you! I've been enjoying the sillier prompts lately and have been wondering for a while now about the companions' reactions to a wild-magic sorcerer Tav accidentally turning themselves into a potted plant, as can happen in actual dnd. This might be in combat, out of combat, or when no one's around to see until they realize Tav is missing and there's a new, Tav-sized plant at camp. Thanks for considering!

Ahahahaha I didn't know this because fun fact I have never played as a wild-magic sorcerer, the more you know

Karlach:

The chaos of battle still hung thick in the air: the acrid tang of ozone from lightning spells, the metallic bite of blood, and the charred aroma of scorched earth. Karlach stood amidst the wreckage, her infernal engine humming faintly as the adrenaline of combat began to ebb. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she turned to look for you, her fiery grin ready to celebrate another victory with her partner.

Only, you were nowhere to be seen.

“Babe?” she called, her voice carrying over the clatter of armor and groans of the fallen. She scanned the battlefield, her sharp eyes darting between the bodies of your enemies. Her smile faltered. “Where the hells are you?”

It wasn’t like you to wander off mid-battle, even with the unpredictable nature of your wild magic. A sinking feeling settled in her gut, and she began to search, calling your name louder now.

Her gaze finally fell on a peculiar sight near the edge of the clearing—a potted plant. It was vibrant and oddly you-sized, perched precariously on the remnants of a crumbled wall. Karlach’s brows furrowed, her hands on her hips as she stared at it.

“What the…?” she muttered, stepping closer. There was something strangely familiar about the plant. Its broad leaves almost seemed to droop in a manner reminiscent of your slouch when you were feeling bashful, and the faint glow of magic that lingered around it screamed wild surge.

Her eyes widened as realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. “No way. No way.”

Dropping to a crouch in front of the plant, she inspected it closer.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” she whispered, reaching out to touch one of the leaves gently. It was warm, and she swore she could feel your presence within it. “Babe, is that you?”

The plant didn’t respond, of course, but Karlach groaned and dropped her head into her hands.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” she lamented, her voice muffled. “You go and turn yourself into a bloody plant? In the middle of a fight?”

She glanced over her shoulder to ensure the rest of the group was still occupied. No one had noticed your absence yet, and for that she was grateful. She wasn’t sure she could handle the jokes from Astarion or the endless concern from Gale right now. This was between you and her, dammit.

Sighing, she scooped the pot into her arms, holding it like she would hold you.

“Alright, love,” she said, her tone softening despite herself. “Let’s get you back to camp and figure out how to fix this, yeah?”

The trek back was… awkward. Karlach tried to hold the pot steady while simultaneously glancing around to ensure no one saw her cradling a plant like it was her most prized possession. She muttered under her breath as she went, half scolding you and half laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“Of all the things you could’ve turned into,” she grumbled. “Why not something cool, like a dragon? Or even a chair! I could’ve used you for a rest at least.” She looked down at the plant with a rueful grin. “But no, you had to go and be adorable even as a damn fern.”

By the time she reached camp, the rest of the party had begun to notice your absence. Shadowheart raised a questioning eyebrow as Karlach marched straight to your tent, the plant held tightly in her arms.

“Where’s—” Shadowheart began, but Karlach cut her off with a gruff, “Don’t ask,” before disappearing inside.

Once safely tucked away in the privacy of your shared space, Karlach set the pot down gently and sat cross-legged in front of it.

“Okay, love,” she said, her tone serious now. “I’m not exactly a magic expert, so I’m guessing this’ll wear off on its own, yeah? Just, uh… shake a leaf or something if I’m right.”

Nothing happened. She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Figures. You’d turn yourself into something that can’t talk back.” She reached out to stroke one of your leaves again, her touch tender. “I just hope you’re okay in there. You’re not, like, panicking, are you? ‘Cause I’m here, alright? I’ve got you.”

The hours ticked by, and Karlach stayed by your side, talking to you about everything and nothing. She recounted old stories of her time in Avernus, described the way the campfire crackled just outside, and even hummed a few bars of a tune you loved. She refused to leave, determined to be there the moment you returned to your usual self.

When the magic finally dissipated, it was abrupt. One moment, she was staring at the plant, and the next, you were sitting on the floor in front of her, looking disoriented but otherwise unharmed. Karlach blinked, then burst into relieved laughter.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around you in a rib-crushing hug before you could even fully process what had happened. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, you hear?”

You groaned, your voice muffled against her shoulder. “Wasn’t exactly intentional,” you muttered, but the warmth in her embrace made it hard to feel anything but gratitude.

Karlach pulled back just enough to cup your face in her hands, her grin brighter than the campfire.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she said, her voice teasing but her eyes soft. “Even if you do have a habit of turning into houseplants.”

You chuckled weakly, leaning into her touch. “I’ll try to aim for something cooler next time.”

“Damn right, you will,” Karlach said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “But for now, you’re staying right here. No more wild magic shenanigans until I’m convinced you won’t turn into a cactus or something.”

Minthara:

The camp was eerily quiet when Minthara returned from scouting the perimeter, her steps as measured and deliberate as ever. She had left you behind, trusting that whatever magical experiment had your attention at the moment was at least minimally controlled. You had assured her you would remain safe.

But as she entered the camp, her sharp eyes immediately swept the area—and you were nowhere to be found. A frown tugged at her lips, irritation brimming beneath her calm exterior.

“My love?” she called out, her voice low but commanding. There was no reply, only the faint rustling of wind through the trees.

Something was wrong.

Minthara’s grip on her weapon tightened instinctively as she strode toward your usual spot near the campfire. Her keen senses caught the faint trace of magic lingering in the air—chaotic, unpredictable magic. It clung to the clearing like a haze, setting her teeth on edge.

And then she saw it.

A potted plant, sitting innocently in the middle of camp. It was a strikingly odd sight—vibrant, lush, and entirely out of place. Minthara’s frown deepened as she approached, her eyes narrowing. Something about it felt… familiar. She knelt beside it, her fingers brushing one of the broad, leafy fronds.

Her instincts screamed at her, the strange magic and the peculiar timing sparking a suspicion she couldn’t shake.

"No," she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with disbelief and annoyance. "Surely not."

She circled the pot, scrutinizing it from every angle, her sharp mind piecing together what must have happened. The chaotic magic. Your absence. The plant’s unnerving resemblance to your height, even its oddly charming tilt to one side.

“By the Underdark” she growled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’ve turned yourself into a gods-damned plant.”

Minthara rose to her full height, her expression a mixture of exasperation and begrudging amusement. She paced back and forth for a moment, muttering to herself in clipped Drow. This wasn’t her first encounter with wild magic’s unpredictability, but seeing you reduced to foliage tested even her patience.

Finally, she stopped, crossing her arms as she glared down at the plant.

“You’d best hope this is reversible,” she said, her tone sharp but carrying a strange undercurrent of affection. “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to carry you into battle as a decorative shrub.”

The plant, of course, did not respond.

Minthara sighed deeply, a rare crack in her stoic demeanor. She crouched down again, this time with a softer touch, her fingers trailing over the edge of the pot.

“You do realize how much you worry me?” she murmured, her voice quiet now. “Vanishing without warning, leaving me to find… this.” Her lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “You’re lucky I’m fond of you, even when you’re at your most absurd.”

She lingered there for a moment, her crimson eyes studying the plant as though willing you to transform back through sheer force of will. Her mind raced with possible solutions—waiting for the magic to dissipate, seeking assistance from one of the more magically inclined companions, or even attempting to force the issue with a spell of her own. But none of those options sat well with her; the thought of leaving you in this state for even a moment longer than necessary gnawed at her resolve.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the camp, the chaotic magic finally began to wane. A sudden burst of energy rippled through the air, and in an instant, the plant vanished—replaced by you, sitting awkwardly on the ground with wide eyes and a dazed expression.

“Minthara?” you said weakly, blinking up at her.

Her expression was unreadable as she loomed over you, her arms crossed once more. For a moment, she said nothing, letting the weight of her presence—and her silence—sink in. Then, with a sharp exhale, she extended a hand to help you up.

“You are a constant test of my patience,” she said, her tone icy but her touch firm and steady as she pulled you to your feet. “And yet, I cannot seem to stay angry with you.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips.

“Sorry about that,” you said, glancing at the now-empty spot where the plant had been. “Didn’t mean to… you know. Turn into a houseplant.”

Minthara rolled her eyes but allowed a small smirk to break through her stern façade.

“I suppose it’s a testament to your unique charm,” she said dryly. “Only you could find a way to make even wild magic this ridiculous.”

Her hand lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary, her gaze softening as she studied you.

“Do try not to disappear on me again,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’ve grown quite accustomed to having you by my side… in a form that can actually hold a weapon.”

You chuckled, the sound warm and full of relief. “I’ll do my best.”

Minthara shook her head, a quiet laugh escaping her lips despite herself. “See that you do. Now, come. You owe me a drink to make up for this nonsense.”

She turned sharply, striding toward the campfire with her usual commanding grace. But as you followed, you caught the faintest trace of a smile lingering on her lip.

Lae'zel:

Lae'zel stood amidst the aftermath of the battle, her chest heaving as she wiped a smear of blood from her cheek with the back of her hand. The final enemy had fallen beneath her blade, and the battlefield was silent save for the distant rustle of the wind through the trees. She turned sharply, her yellow eyes scanning the clearing for you, her battle partner and—more recently—her lover.

“Y/N” she barked, her voice firm as always, tinged with the expectation of a swift response. When none came, her brow furrowed. She swept her gaze over the terrain, spotting the bodies of your foes… but no sign of you.

Her grip on her blade tightened as unease prickled at the edges of her thoughts.

“Where are you?” she muttered, you had a habit of getting into trouble, especially with the erratic nature of your magic. This silence was unsettling.

It was then that her gaze landed on something odd—a potted plant, sitting upright amidst the debris and gore of battle. It was an odd sight, pristine and bright green in stark contrast to the carnage around it. Lae’zel’s frown deepened as she stalked over to it, her boots crunching on the ground. Something about the plant felt… familiar.

She stopped before it, staring down at its leaves. It was unusually large, roughly your height if she imagined it upright. The pot itself bore faint traces of magic that made her lip curl in suspicion.

“Ridiculous,” she growled. And yet, the chaotic nature of your magic whispered a possibility in her mind—a possibility so absurd she dismissed it outright. At first.

Then, she leaned down and poked the plant with her gauntleted finger.

The moment her finger brushed a leaf, a faint magical hum radiated from it, and Lae’zel’s eyes widened. Her sharp mind pieced together the evidence: your absence, the lingering magic, and the absurdity of a random plant appearing on a battlefield. She drew back with a look that was half exasperation, half incredulous disbelief.

“You have done this to yourself, haven’t you?” she demanded, glaring at the plant as though it could answer her. “Wild magic,” she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain. “You reckless fool.”

She straightened, planting her hands on her hips, her blade still dripping with the blood of her enemies. For a moment, she considered leaving you as you were, just long enough to impress upon you the consequences of your chaos. But the thought was fleeting, quickly overtaken by the frustration that you were not by her side in a form she could lecture properly.

Lae’zel crouched again, this time with a softer expression, though she still scowled.

“If you can hear me, you will fix this yourself,” she said firmly. “I have no intention of hauling a houseplant back to camp.”

The plant, of course, did not respond.

“Ugh.” Lae’zel threw her head back, muttering something sharp and guttural in Gith, likely a curse aimed at the unpredictability of magic. Despite her frustration, she carefully scooped the pot into her arms, grumbling under her breath as she did so. The weight was awkward but manageable.

She began the trek back to camp, her movements brisk and efficient despite the absurd cargo in her arms. Along the way, she muttered a constant stream of words, alternating between irritation and reluctant concern.

“You are fortunate I value you, even when you test my patience,” she said, glancing down at the plant. “Were you anyone else, I would leave you here to rot.”

When she reached camp, the sight of Lae’zel carrying a potted plant drew immediate attention. Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, Astarion stifled a laugh, and Gale opened his mouth to ask a question—only to receive a sharp glare that silenced him on the spot.

“Not a word,” Lae’zel snapped, setting the plant down beside the fire with a little more force than necessary. She pointed a finger at the pot as if addressing you directly. “You will undo this foolishness. Now.”

By sheer coincidence, the chaotic magic finally dissipated, a sudden burst of energy shook the camp, and you appeared where the plant had been—sitting awkwardly on the ground, blinking in confusion.

“Lae’zel?” you said, your voice tentative. She towered over you, arms crossed and glaring fiercely.

“You turned yourself into a plant,” she stated, her tone flat but laced with unmistakable annoyance.

“Uh… yeah,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. “I guess I did.”

Lae’zel stared at you for a long moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. Then, without warning, she grabbed your arm and hauled you to your feet.

“You are an utter fool,” she said, her voice harsh, but there was a flicker of relief in her eyes. “And you will explain how this happened—after you swear to me it will not happen again.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her intensity, even as you stammered out an apology.

“I’ll try,” you said, earning an unimpressed snort from her.

“‘Try’ is insufficient,” she snapped, but there was no real heat in her words. She studied you for a moment longer before pulling you into a surprisingly firm embrace, her grip strong but steady. “Do not make me worry for you again.”

The rare softness in her voice made your heart swell, and you nodded against her shoulder. “I’ll do my best.”

Shadowheart:

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting the camp in a soft, dusky glow. Shadowheart returned from gathering water at the nearby stream, her steps light but deliberate as she moved toward the campfire. Dinner was her next priority, and after that, a quiet evening spent in your company. Or so she thought.

As she reached the camp, a strange sight stopped her in her tracks. Sitting near the fire, where she expected to find you lounging or reading, was… a potted plant.

Shadowheart blinked, her brow furrowing. The pot was large, almost comically so, and the plant itself had an odd, almost lively vibrance to it. Its fronds swayed gently in the evening breeze, and its size was distinctly you-shaped.

She set the water down and took a few tentative steps closer, her dark eyes narrowing as she examined the plant. Her fingers brushed one of the leaves, and a faint shimmer of magic danced across its surface. Recognition hit her like a gale-force wind, and she straightened up abruptly, staring at the plant in stunned silence.

And then she started laughing.

The sound was soft at first, a quiet chuckle bubbling up from her chest. But it quickly grew louder, filling the camp as she doubled over, one hand braced on her knee and the other clutching her stomach.

“Oh, gods,” she wheezed, barely able to get the words out. “You’ve done it now, haven’t you?”

She staggered back a step, trying to compose herself, but the sight of the potted plant sitting innocently near the fire broke her resolve. She collapsed onto a nearby log, her laughter ringing through the clearing.

“You—you turned yourself into a plant!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking with mirth. “How? Why? What—what were you even doing?”

The plant, of course, did not respond. Its fronds merely swayed as if in agreement, which only made Shadowheart laugh harder. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she leaned forward, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” she managed to say between gasps. “I didn’t think wild magic could be this ridiculous.”

For several minutes, she simply sat there, caught in a loop of laughter and attempts to calm herself. Every time she thought she had control, she’d glance at the plant again, and another wave of giggles would take her.

Eventually, she wiped her eyes and let out a long, shaky sigh.

“Alright, alright,” she muttered to herself, still grinning. “I suppose I should figure out how to fix this before someone else sees you like this.”

But instead of moving immediately to find a solution, she reached out and gently patted the pot, her touch oddly tender.

“You’re lucky I find you endearing,” she said, her voice soft with affection. “Even when you’re… this.”

She sat there for a while longer, her smile lingering as she studied the plant. The absurdity of the situation didn’t erase her fondness; if anything, it deepened it. You were chaotic, unpredictable, and utterly unique, and somehow, she adored every bit of it.

When the magic finally began to fade, the plant shimmered and morphed, and in a flash of light, you were sitting on the ground, blinking up at her with a sheepish grin.

“Uh… hey,” you said awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck. “Miss me?”

Shadowheart burst out laughing again, leaning back on the log as she shook her head.

“Oh, my love,” she said, her voice full of amusement and exasperation. “You never fail to surprise me.”

She stood and offered you her hand, pulling you to your feet with a smirk. “I’ll admit, I was tempted to leave you like that for a while longer. You made a rather charming plant.”

You groaned, your face heating. “Please don’t tell the others.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said with mock sincerity, though the mischievous glint in her eyes suggested otherwise. “But you might owe me a favor or two to ensure my silence.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as she leaned in closer, her expression softening. “Just promise me you’ll try not to turn yourself into anything else for a while,” she said, her voice quiet but warm. “I’d rather have you by my side.”

You nodded, and Shadowheart’s smirk widened as she pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “Good. Now, let’s get some dinner before you accidentally polymorph into a roast chicken or something.”

With a laugh, she led you toward the fire, her hand slipping into yours. Even as the evening went on, she couldn’t help but glance at you now and then, a smile tugging at her lips as she remembered the absurdity of the situation.

Jaheira:

Jaheira had seen many strange and inexplicable things in her long life. She had battled liches, shaped the natural world, and lived through countless adventures that would leave lesser individuals trembling. But when she returned to camp after a morning spent tending to her druidic rituals, she did not expect to find a potted plant sitting conspicuously near the fire, in precisely the spot you usually occupied.

She froze, her keen eyes narrowing as she took in the odd sight. The plant was unusually large and vibrant, its leaves swaying gently despite the still air. Jaheira’s lips pressed into a thin line as a nagging suspicion bloomed in the back of her mind.

“Beloved?” she called out sharply, her gaze darting around the camp for any sign of you. The woods were silent save for the rustle of leaves, and there was no reply. Her frown deepened as she crouched beside the plant, reaching out to touch one of its leaves. The faint shimmer of residual magic confirmed her worst fear.

“By the gods…” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “Of course.”

Jaheira sank onto a nearby log, her expression shifting from incredulity to sheer exasperation.

“I leave you alone for one morning,” she said aloud, as if addressing the plant. “One morning, and this is what you manage to accomplish?”

The plant offered no response, its fronds swaying innocently. Jaheira leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she regarded it with a mix of frustration and reluctant fondness.

“Wild magic,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. “I warned you, did I not? I told you to focus, to keep your chaos in check. But no, of course not. That would be too simple.”

She let out a long, weary sigh and leaned back, crossing her arms.

“What am I to do with you?” she muttered, shaking her head. “I cannot even lecture you properly in this state.”

Her gaze softened slightly as she studied the plant, her exasperation giving way to quiet concern. Despite her irritation, there was a tenderness in her expression—a deep-seated care that she could never fully mask.

“You are lucky I care for you, you ridiculous creature,” she said softly. “Otherwise, I might have left you here to contemplate your folly for a few days.”

Jaheira stood and began pacing, her sharp mind already working through possible solutions. She muttered to herself as she moved, alternating between frustration and practicality.

“Undoing wild magic,” she said, glancing at the plant. “An unpredictable mess, as always. I ought to leave you for Gale to sort out—he would likely enjoy the challenge. But no, no. This is our problem.”

She stopped pacing and returned to the plant, placing her hands on her hips. “If you can hear me, beloved, know this: when you return to your proper form, you will owe me twice over. For this, and for the worry you’ve caused.”

As if in response, the plant shimmered faintly, and Jaheira arched an eyebrow.

“Good,” she said, nodding. “Perhaps there is still some sense left in you.”

Moments later, the magic dissipated with a faint burst of energy, and you were suddenly sitting on the ground, dazed but otherwise unharmed. You looked up at Jaheira, blinking in confusion as you tried to process what had happened.

“Jaheira?” you said tentatively, your voice hesitant. “What—”

She held up a hand to silence you, her expression equal parts stern and amused.

“Do not speak,” she said firmly. “Not yet. First, you will listen.”

You nodded quickly, sensing the gravity of her tone. Jaheira crouched beside you, her sharp eyes locking onto yours.

“You will explain to me, in great detail, what foolishness led to this,” she said. “And you will swear to me that you will exercise more caution in the future. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my beloved,” you said meekly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

She studied you for a long moment, her gaze softening as she saw the genuine contrition in your expression. With a small sigh, she reached out and cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You are fortunate I adore you” she said quietly, her tone laced with affection despite her stern words. “But you test my patience, beloved. Try not to make a habit of it.”

“I promise to try and not do it more than usual,” you promised with a cheeky smile, earning a faint smile from her.

“That's all I can ask for,” she said, rising to her feet and offering you her hand. “Now, come. There is work to be done, and I will not allow you to shirk your duties just because you decided to play at being a houseplant.”

You laughed softly, taking her hand and letting her pull you to your feet. As you walked together toward the campfire, Jaheira shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

“A potted plant,” she muttered. “What will you manage next, I wonder? A flock of chickens? A living puddle?”

Despite her exasperation, there was a warmth in her voice that made your heart swell. You knew you were lucky to have her by your side—someone who could scold you one moment and hold you close the next.

Gale:

The sun had dipped low, casting the camp in soft, golden hues as Gale returned from a short stroll. He was humming a soft melody under his breath, a habit when he felt particularly at ease. However, his contentment was short-lived.

As he reached the campfire, he froze. His gaze fell on a peculiar sight: a massive, lush potted plant sitting exactly where you would typically be, its leaves trembling faintly as if caught in an unseen breeze. Gale’s sharp mind immediately pieced together the absurd possibility.

He stepped closer, squinting at the plant.

“My love?” he called tentatively, his tone a mix of disbelief and concern.

The plant, predictably, gave no reply. Gale knelt down, his hands hovering over the vibrant leaves as his brow furrowed.

“No. Surely not…” He reached out, his fingers brushing the leaves. A faint magical hum tickled his fingertips, confirming his suspicions. He sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’ve done it again, haven’t you? Wild magic… unpredictable as ever. Now what are you today? A ficus?” He tilted his head, examining the pot. “No, perhaps a monstera. Lovely choice, truly.”

His amusement was short-lived, replaced by determination as he straightened his back.

“No matter,” he said firmly. “We’ll have you back to yourself in no time. After all, what is a little magical mishap to someone like me?”

He moved swiftly, summoning his arcane focus. Arcane energy swirled around his fingers as he murmured incantations, his tone confident. A brilliant light enveloped the plant, the air around it crackling with energy. But as quickly as it had begun, the magic dissipated, leaving the plant unchanged.

Gale frowned, his brow furrowing deeper.

“That should have worked.” He muttered another incantation, this one more complex. Again, the air shimmered, and again, nothing happened.

Minutes turned into an hour as Gale tried every spell and counterspell he could think of. Each attempt left him more frustrated, his usually calm demeanor cracking. By the end, he was slumped on the ground beside the plant, his elbows resting on his knees as he gazed at it with a mix of exhaustion and defeat.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice heavy with guilt. “I thought I could undo this easily, but… I’ve failed you.” He reached out, his fingers brushing the rim of the pot. “You must be frightened, or bored, or both. And here I am, a so-called wizard of no small renown, completely stumped.”

As if in response to his heartfelt apology, a faint shimmer enveloped the plant. Gale sat up straight, his eyes wide as the glow grew brighter. With a soft poof, the plant vanished, and there you were, sitting cross-legged on the ground, blinking up at him.

“Gale?” you said groggily, your voice laced with confusion. “What… happened?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times before he let out a disbelieving laugh.

“You just… changed back?” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “Just like that?”

You nodded, stretching your arms. “Guess it wore off.”

For a moment, Gale was silent, his expression caught between amusement and exasperation. Then he laughed again, the sound warm and rich as he reached out to pull you into a tight embrace.

“Oh, darling” he murmured against your hair. “You’ll be the death of me, you know that?”

You chuckled, leaning into his embrace. “Sorry for the trouble.”

He pulled back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he studied you intently.

“Don’t apologize,” he said softly, his gaze filled with affection. “Just promise me one thing: if you ever feel another surge of wild magic coming on, give me fair warning. I’d like to prepare for the possibility of, say, you turning into a boulder next time.”

You laughed, and he smiled, the tension from earlier melting away.

“Come,” he said, rising and offering you his hand. “Let’s have some tea. And maybe—just maybe—I’ll manage to go an entire evening without my lover surprising me with botanical transformations.”

His teasing tone made you grin as you took his hand, and together, you walked back to the campfire, the chaos of the day fading into a memory you’d both cherish.

Astarion:

The sun was beginning to set, casting long, golden shadows over the camp as Astarion strolled back from his usual evening preparations. His step was light, his crimson eyes bright with their usual mischievous glint, but his mood faltered when he reached the center of camp. You were nowhere to be seen.

He tilted his head, scanning the area.

“Darling?” he called, his voice lilting with curiosity. “Where are you? Surely you haven’t wandered off. I thought we agreed that you’d stay within earshot.”

Silence greeted him, save for the distant rustling of the trees. His lips pressed into a thin line as irritation bubbled to the surface. But just as he was about to set off in search of you, his eyes fell on something strange near the fire—a large potted plant. A frown tugged at his features as he approached, his sharp eyes narrowing.

The plant was tall, lush, and vibrant, and its size was suspiciously… familiar. Astarion crouched beside it, reaching out to touch a leaf. His fingers brushed the frond, and a faint hum of chaotic magic tickled his senses. He froze, realization dawning as his mouth fell open.

“No,” he said flatly, staring at the plant as if it had personally insulted him. “You didn’t.”

The plant, of course, did not respond.

“Oh, for the love of—” Astarion cut himself off, straightening with a sharp sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “This is why I can’t leave you alone for five minutes. I go to sharpen my daggers, and you decide to… become a houseplant.”

He paced around the plant, muttering dramatically to himself. “This is my life now, isn’t it? Hauling around my lover in botanic form. I must admit, this is a new low, even for us.”

Despite his exasperation, there was a thread of affection woven through his words. After all, this was you—his beloved, his partner in chaos. And as much as he wanted to leave you here to stew in your own magic, the thought of someone stumbling upon you while you were vulnerable gnawed at him.

“Well,” he said, planting his hands on his hips, “if you think I’m leaving you here to be stolen by some overly enthusiastic druid or trampled by a stray owlbear, you’re sorely mistaken.”

He crouched again, wrapping his arms around the pot.

“You’re heavier than you look, you know,” he grumbled as he hefted it into his arms. He staggered slightly under the weight before finding his balance, his fangs flashing in a sarcastic grin. “Oh, darling, you’re lucky I adore you.”

Thus began one of the most absurd nights of Astarion’s life. With you—now a potted plant—tucked securely in his arms, he set off toward the group’s meeting point, his gait steady but laced with a dramatic air of martyrdom.

“This is humiliating, you know,” he said, glancing down at the plant. “If anyone sees me like this, I’ll never live it down. ‘Oh, there goes Astarion,’ they’ll say, ‘dragging his decorative lover into battle.’”

When he reached the rest of the group, their reactions were predictably varied. Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, Gale rubbed his temples, and Karlach burst into loud, raucous laughter.

“What in the Hells happened to Tav?” Karlach asked between laughs, clutching her sides.

“They happened to themselves,” Astarion replied dryly, shifting the pot in his arms. “Wild magic. Again.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” Karlach wheezed. “You carrying them around like that!”

“Yes, yes, laugh it up,” Astarion said with a roll of his eyes. “But don’t think I’m letting them out of my sight. If they’re going to make a habit of turning into houseplants, they’ll do it under my watch lest they get molested by the local wildlife.”

Despite his snark, Astarion was true to his word. He carried you everywhere that night—through camp, during patrols, and even to his tent when he finally settled down to rest. He set the pot down beside him, adjusting it with care before sprawling out on his bedroll.

“Well, my love,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I hope you’re enjoying yourself in there. You’re certainly causing me enough trouble.”

He leaned back, his crimson eyes softening as they rested on the plant. “But, as irritating as this is, I suppose it’s… endearing, in its own ridiculous way. Only you could find a way to make this charming.”

As if on cue, a faint shimmer of magic enveloped the plant. Astarion sat up, his eyes narrowing as the light grew brighter. Then, with a soft poof, the plant was gone, and there you were, sitting on the ground, disoriented but whole.

“Astarion?” you murmured, blinking up at him.

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a dramatic groan, he flopped back onto his bedroll.

“You absolute menace,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched in a reluctant smile.

You chuckled, crawling over to sit beside him. “Thanks for not leaving me behind.”

He turned his head to look at you, his crimson eyes glinting. “As if I’d ever let anything happen to you,” he said softly. “Though next time, darling, do try to keep yourself… human-shaped. For my sanity, if nothing else.”

You laughed, and he sighed, reaching out to pull you close.

“Come here, you absurd, wonderful disaster,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I suppose I’ll just have to love you as you are—potted plants and all.”

Wyll:

The inn was a cozy, bustling place, alive with the clatter of mugs and the hum of conversation. Wyll, ever the gentleman, had rented a room for the two of you after a long day’s travel. He’d left you in the corner of the common room momentarily, promising to return after he spoke with the innkeeper.

When he came back, you were gone.

His brows furrowed, his gaze darting around the room.

“My love?” he called softly, his voice carrying just enough for you to hear if you were nearby. “Where have you gotten off to?”

No response. His eyes scanned the crowd, then the quieter corners of the room. There, near the hearth, was a potted plant—a lush, green monstera—placed exactly where he had left you. He could have sworn there was only one monestera by the heart but now it seemed to have a friend. He paused, staring at the new plant with suspicion.

It couldn’t be, could it? He took a cautious step closer, noting the faint hum of magic still lingering in the air. His heart sank, and he let out a long, resigned sigh.

“Wild magic,” he muttered, crouching down to inspect the plant. “Of course. You’ve turned yourself into a… rather fetching monstera, I’ll give you that.”

Wyll ran a hand through his hair, glancing around to ensure no one else was watching him talk to a houseplant. He leaned in closer, his expression softening as he whispered, “Love, if that’s really you, don’t worry. I’ve got this under control.”

Scooping the plant into his arms, he carried it upstairs to the room. It was awkward—pottery wasn’t exactly easy to cradle—but Wyll managed, setting the plant down gently on the small table by the window.

“There,” he said, brushing a few flecks of dirt from his gloves. “Safe and sound.”

For the next few hours, Wyll did his best to care for you—or what he thought was you. He watered the plant carefully, ensuring the soil was just moist enough, and even adjusted its position so it could catch the evening sunlight streaming through the window. He pulled up a chair, resting his chin in his hand as he spoke softly.

“I know this must be frustrating,” he said, his deep voice filled with sympathy. “Being stuck like this. But you’ll be back to your old self in no time, I promise.”

He leaned back, arms crossed as he continued his one-sided conversation. “You know, I always did think you had a natural beauty about you—though I must admit, I never imagined it quite so literally.” He chuckled at his own joke, the sound warm and gentle.

Downstairs, however, the real you—still in potted plant form—sat abandoned near the hearth. A kind innkeeper had noticed you and moved you closer to the bar, thinking you were just a decorative piece. It wasn’t until Karlach wandered into the inn later that evening that someone finally noticed.

Karlach, who had been looking for both you and Wyll, stopped in her tracks when she spotted the plant. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Wait a second,” she muttered, crouching down. Her hand brushed a leaf, and the faint hum of magic confirmed her suspicions. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Grinning, she scooped up the plant with ease and made her way upstairs, throwing open the door to Wyll’s room.

“Oi, Blade of Frontiers!” she called, her voice ringing with amusement. “Care to explain why you’ve been sweet-talking a normal plant while the real Y/N was stuck downstairs?”

Wyll, who had been mid-sentence in his heartfelt monologue to the decoy plant, froze. His eyes darted between the monstera in Karlach’s hands and the one sitting on the table. Realization dawned, and a flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. He must have mixed them up when he was thinking about the plants.

“Oh,” he said, standing abruptly. “Oh no.”

Karlach set the real you on the floor with a laugh. “You’ve been flirting with a houseplant, Wyll. I can’t decide if that’s adorable or just plain tragic.”

Wyll let out a groan, running a hand over his face. “I thought I was being attentive! Caring! I—I even watered it.”

“You watered it?” Karlach doubled over with laughter, slapping her knee. “Oh, Y/N's gonna love this story.”

As if on cue, the magic around you shimmered, and with a soft poof, you were yourself again. You blinked, disoriented, as Wyll dropped to his knees beside you.

“My love!” he exclaimed, relief flooding his face. “You’re back. Thank the gods.”

You looked between him and the monstera on the table, piecing together what had happened. A slow smile spread across your face. “You were… talking to the wrong plant?”

Wyll groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “Don’t remind me.”

Karlach was still laughing in the corner. “Oh, this is gold. Absolute gold.”

Despite his embarrassment, Wyll reached out to pull you into a tight hug, holding you close.

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” he murmured, his voice soft. “Even if I made a fool of myself.”

You smiled against his shoulder, your heart swelling with affection.

“Thanks for taking care of… well, something,” you teased gently. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression tender.

“Always,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Though next time, do me a favor and give me a hint, would you? I’d rather not make a habit of serenading the wrong foliage.”

Karlach let out a snort from the doorway, and the three of you dissolved into laughter.

Halsin:

The forest clearing was quiet, save for the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. Camp had been peaceful for once—no goblin raids, no cursed relics, just the calm embrace of nature. Halsin had stepped away to check the nearby stream for fish, leaving you to experiment with your magic. You’d promised to be careful.

You weren’t careful.

When Halsin returned, carrying a string of freshly caught trout, he immediately noticed something was off. The air around camp felt strange, the energy shifted. His sharp eyes scanned the area for you, but instead of your familiar figure, there was… a potted plant sitting in the middle of camp. A magnificent fern, its leaves vibrant and swaying slightly as if caught in an unseen wind.

He paused, brow furrowing.

“My heart?” he called cautiously, setting the fish down. When no answer came, his gaze settled on the fern. The faint shimmer of wild magic clinging to it made understanding dawn. A slow smile spread across his face.

“Ah,” he muttered, walking over to crouch by the plant. “Wild magic has claimed you again, my heart.”

He gently brushed a large leaf with his fingertips, marveling at how alive it felt.

“You have excellent taste in flora,” he remarked, his tone warm with amusement. “A fern suits you. Strong, resilient… perhaps a bit mischievous.”

Settling beside the pot, Halsin crossed his legs and rested his elbow on one knee, chin in his hand.

“I suppose this is as good a time as any to remind you of the importance of grounding yourself before experimenting with magic,” he mused, though his voice carried no trace of reproach. “Not that you’ll be able to argue with me right now.”

Despite his humor, Halsin’s instinct to care for you took over. He carefully examined the soil, testing its dampness with a practiced hand.

As the evening wore on, Halsin moved you to a sunnier spot, adjusting your position as the light shifted. He kept up a steady stream of conversation, as though you were still in your usual form.

“I’m reminded of a time in the grove,” he said, his deep voice rumbling. “We had a druid who accidentally turned herself into a willow sapling. The children tied ribbons to her branches before anyone realized. She was furious—but she did make quite a beautiful tree.”

At one point, a squirrel approached, chittering curiously at the strange new plant in the camp. Halsin waved it off with a soft laugh. “Move along, friend. This one is spoken for.”

By the time dusk began to fall, he had arranged a small circle of stones around your pot, creating a makeshift shrine of sorts. It was a gesture born of care, a way to ensure you were safe and undisturbed.

As the stars began to twinkle above, the shimmer of magic around you intensified. Halsin, ever attuned to such things, noticed immediately. He knelt beside you, watching as the transformation took hold. With a soft poof, you returned to your usual self, sitting cross-legged where the pot had been moments before.

You blinked in disorientation, glancing around before meeting Halsin’s golden-brown eyes. He was smiling, warm and full of quiet amusement.

“Welcome back,” he said softly.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “I turned into a plant again, didn’t I?”

Halsin chuckled, offering you a hand to help you to your feet. “You did. A particularly lovely fern, if I may say so. I’ve spent the better part of the day tending to you.”

Your cheeks flushed as you noticed the circle of stones. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile deepening.

“How could I not? You’re my heart, no matter your form.” He stepped closer, resting a hand gently on your cheek. “Besides, it gave me an excuse to dote on you.”

You laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “I’ll try to keep the wild magic under control next time.”

“Do as you must,” he said, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “But know that if it happens again, I’ll be here. I’ll always care for you, no matter how many leaves you sprout.”

Managed to get this one out for you all, I am hoping to post a christmas BG3 imagine post thingy at some point, my life is just chaos rn. Thank you all for checking in on me, I truly appreciate every single one of you. Hope you enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

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

[numberonetrashwitch]

Some observations about Baldurs Gate 3 that hit too close to home.

After another few runs i will probably just make an in-Depth Character Analysis for every character simply because they are good reflections of actual trauma-manifestations and how abuse can manifest in people. They are also so well written that it serves a narrative purpose to explore all the material that is out there about them. I am also personally cursed with actual medically-relevant levels of Empathy and Hyperfixation; so writing this helps me put a pin in it and move on.

But so far here are my highlights

(SPOILERS and obviously content warning bc these are deep)

before you ask; i have almost 300h in this game.

You have to convince Shadowheart to eat the Noblestalk. She actually stells you she rather get her memories back from Shar but when you hit the persuasion or intimidation (what the fuck) check to get her to eat it she'll tell you about her childhood friend. Not her name, not her parents but her best firend. Possibly because she has had a closer bond to that person after being abducted and indoctrinated. With her believing herself to be an orphan, she would've looked elsewhere for comfort and sought out her own family, this is why she falls hard and heavy for Shar and builds the backbone of her indoctrination. She is literally ripped out of her home & given a new identity to server her from all she has known. Religious indoctrination, Gaslighting, Abduction, being forced to let go of your personality are her main themes.

There is a scene out there floating around in which you see Astarions pespective of the night when he bites Tav for the first time, in his meditations he is confronted with the rules Cazador put on him, including that he can't eat intelligent creatures, can't be away from Cazador unless allowed to, has to obey every command and that they are should know that they are property. Which in turn means that Astarion literally didn't just have any autonomy, he was objectified (and not just through seductive/sexual measures) and that is really the crux to understanding why he doesn't believe in kindness, but rather shows self-serving behavior in most cases. Since we know that Astarion was extremely young for an elf before he died and became immortal (literally stopping the aging /maturing process) it is also very telling that Cazador constantly calls him brat, boy or other very juvanile names, refering to them as a family... well it is also the story of a very controlling parent. Themes of (Bodily) autonomy, infantilization ( & puer aeternus, forever-child), slavery, depersonalisation, corruption of life and torture to break someone.

Gale isn't just a guy hung up on his Ex, but also a victim of abuse. In this case a power imbalance none of us can fathom; She is described as being a jealous goddess and rules over the domain of mysteries and magic. So with Gale being a Wizard, she is literally his boss. He admits that he was foolish enough to aspire to be an equal to her, but she is so jealous that she tells him he can't really be worthy as long as he takes breath. She could just take his powers away and be done with it, that would be more than enough punishment for a guy who literally made Mystra and her domain his life's purpose, but she rather makes him do it himself. Add to that, that she literally only tells him this after years of self-isolation (after he put down so many wards that he could've blown up a whole army as he says if you click the right dialogue) to really fuck him up well. He also talks about death pretty much constantly, not surprising giving your situation, but he will tell you that he will kill himself at several points in the game, for instance after he comes clear about his nethrese orb. Themes of romantic abuse, power-imbalance, toxic work enviorment, self-isolating behavior, suicidal ideation

Wyll ... well from the looks of it he is the most well adjusted of all the companions (my opinion) but he has something that i'd describe as the "eldest daughter"-syndrome, more commonly known as parentification. This pattern usually occurs within single-household parents and is commonly described as a parent looking to their child for emotional or practical support, rather than providing it to their kid. We meet Ulder and see that he talks over Wyll a lot, not listening but expecting him to follow the standard he sets for him. That is also why Wyll repeats his fathers words like gospel (because this is what, in his mind, fullfills the expectations bestowed upon him) and why he loves fairytales / bard tales so much (because they are an ecapist view of the job he set out to do) Ulder literally exiled his teenage son because Wyll did the only thing he could to save an entire city, by sacrificing himself. Thats a lot to expect from a 17 year old - even more so, he doesn't stop with the heroics. He expects himself, as a human who hasn't even reached the age of 30 to hold up to mystical creatures such as Astarion or Karlach, or even Gale who is a accomplished Wizard. Themes of parentification, escapism, self-harming through putting himself in danger, chronic-self-sacrifice

In plain words; Gortash, Karlach's Idol sold her to a Devil. But add to that that she must have been pretty young when she was sold (late teens to early twenties possibly) and being that if you play as a Tiefling, you face a lot of predjudice she was likely forced into that position as well. Starstruck she was, with a juvenile naitivy that Gortash used. Appropriately, as he is the chosen of Bane the god of "tyrannical oppression, terror, and hate, known across Faerûn as the face of pure evil through malevolent despotism" (Source: Forgotten-Realms Wiki / Bane) So she pretty much was raised in a toxic enviorment, which forced her to become a killing-machine, first figuretively, then with the extraction of her heart, literally. Themes of slavery, oppression, misuse of trust, being taken advantage by a more powerful/older(?) person, being drafted.

Jaheira - to be honest, you need to know the lore of the previous baldurs gate games or just listen to her dialouge, ask her all the questions. She is a war-veteran against Bhaal, the good of ritual murder, and has a long history of fighting to achieve some sort of balance of power. She lost her husband and several close people all to this, or any other war, but due to her wisdom and strength people look to her for guidance. Themes of: Survivors Guilt.

Halsin - he is really closed off at first but then just casually hits you with "i was captured in the underdark and spent 3 years chained to a bedroom wall by a pair of drows who used me as they pleased". He is reprimanded by some of his druids for leaving the grove as soon as opportunity struck, just to get back and leave the next day, and if you talk to him about his position in the grove he is actually very forthcomming. He actively holds himself back; indulging in simple hobbies because he knows what lies within his heart. He is afraid of himself and his potential (canonnically he can't control his wildshape, which is very weird for an ARCH-druid) Themes of: impostor syndrome, avoidant-based self-harm, sexual opression, loss of control, emotional regulation.

Lae'zel is a very tragic case, and one that closely resembles the stories of Shadowheart and Karlach. Her entire existence is based upon a matriachial war society allowing her to live if she proves she can be of use and that in a culture which only values brutality, dominance & service. All of that culimating in her finding out that her oh-so-beloved Queen is actually just an imposter, and that everything she has lived for up to that point is merely political propaganda created to make her, and the rest of her entire species, willing pawns in a war that has no longer bearing on their survival alone, but is fought to justify Vlaakith's (the reigning monarchs) personal ambitions. Not only is she forced to reconcile that she is turned into the thing that controlled her kind for hundreds of years, that the only cure she knows of would kill her and then on top of that, that her hopes and dreams were lies and that she is now the Nr 1 enemy of the person she has served with all her being. themes of: oppression, propaganda, casual violence, objectification, child-warfare, eternal warfare

Minthara in short, her story is about being shamed for growing up in the same scenario that Lae'zel grew up in. Lolth, the god of the Lolth-sworn drows is a crazy queen who values scheming & backstabbing so much and is so volatile that you can't know what to expect of your deeds (and i mean it; there were people who were appraised by her for scheming against her, but also those who were killed. It's almost random.) She considers Lolth to be cruel and abandoned her for the Absolute, only to then be used and abused the same way Lae'zel has. Not with promises, but erasing her memory and exposing her perceived weakness. Themes of: casual violence, violent culture, her own ambition colliding with her desire to be safe, being a pawn in a larger game.

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Meadows and Moonlight

Astarion x F!Tav(Est) + Halsin ~4.7k

After the epilogue party, Astarion and Tav finally take Halsin up on his proposition.

Smut. This is shameless smut. Two elves and a tiefling doing it the woods. Soft Dom!Astarion. More submissive Halsin.

//This is a little rough and unedited. Life said, that's a nice mental health ya had, would be a shame if something happened to it...but I think this helped me through it. Maybe XD// ✿⊹₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩ ₊⁺⋆☽⋆⁺₊⊹ ✿

The warmth of the crackling campfire was a welcome and familiar embrace as Tav scanned the faces around her.

Their companions, their friends, looking better than they ever had, celebrating their victory nearly half a year ago. Wyll, Gale, Shadowheart all looking so content—even Lae’zel had the edge of a smile to her sharp features.

Though they weren’t all gathered around the fire.

Tav caught movement in her peripheral vision, drawn over to a secluded corner, where Astarion was murmuring intently to Halsin.

The hulking druid’s brow furrowed as the pale rouge bent his ear, like the devil on his shoulder. But as Tav found her way over to the elves, they both pulled back with smiles on their faces.

“Darling, were your point little ears burning?” Her vampire said, with a smirk he hid behind his own wine goblet.

“Maybe a little,” The tiefling said, with a flick of her tail. “What nefarious plots are you two cooking up over here?”

Astarion waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing so exciting, I’m afraid. Just catching up.” 

Halsin gave the man a bemused expression, but he leaned forward to Tav. “I was just remarking to Astarion how vibrant and...energetic you two seem together these days. That aura of yours could blot out a full moon on a cloudless night.”

Tav nearly choked on her wine, shooting Astarion an accusatory look. He held up his hands defensively, but there was no remorse on his tongue.

“Now dear, don’t give me that look. You know how Halsin is—he’s just naturally attuned to those sorts of...energies.” His voice dropped to a sultry purr on the last word.

Halsin chuckled, his voice warm and rich. “Indeed, the two of you simply radiate...primal passion.” His deep gaze met hers. “Any being would be lucky to revel in such a profound bond.”

Tav’s eyebrows shot up. That…was almost subtle for the wood elf.

Astarion let out a low laugh beside her. “Why Halsin, I thought you’d never ask.” 

Her surprise redoubled as she watched this new boldness in her partner. He reached out, placing a hand brazenly on the druid’s thick, muscular arm.

But Astarion wasn’t putting on one of his cavalier acts this time. 

His interest was undisguised, unvarnished desire writ plainly across his aristocratic features as he appraised Halsin with open want.

“What do you say, my love?” Excitement and curiosity danced in those piercing red eyes.

The druid said nothing, but she could feel him waiting on her answer with baited breath.

Tav felt a shiver of anticipation course through her. Astarion wanted this—wanted Halsin. And from the way the burly elf’s gaze roved appreciatively over them both, the interest was utterly mutual.

She found herself unable to tear her eyes away, imagining what might unfold when this raucous celebration finally dispersed.

Picturing Astarion’s cool confidence melting into ardor, his lithe form entangled with Halsin’s powerful frame. 

The thought sent a delicious shiver of arousal through her core.

“Yes, I say yes.” Tav grinned as Astarion took her arm in his.

“Then, I am even more enthusiastic for this party to end.” The vampire said, with a mischievous purr.

✿⊹₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩ ₊⁺⋆☽⋆⁺₊⊹ ✿

Astarion nipped playfully at Tav's earlobe, causing her to squeal in surprise and stumble into him.

And he tumbled right over into the soft grass, landing with her sprawled across his chest.

“So much for a rogue’s grace.” Tav huffed, pushing herself upright. “You’re not near drunk enough to be unsteady, my love.”

His laughter echoed up to the full moon hung overhead. “Perhaps I’m trying to catch you off-guard, hmm?” the elf smirked, tilting his head as he looked up at her.

Tav pushed herself up onto her knees, making a point of pinning him to the soft meadow as her tail curled around his thigh. “And yet, I’ve caught you.”

Astarion smirked, those red eyes as bright as the sky full of stars above them. And that look, as it always did, drew her close. Wanting to feel his lips on hers once again.

“Have you…?” He hummed, a breath before she could kiss him.

“Have I wha—”

Astarion had Tav on her back before she could finish her question. And she was looking up at him. His blonde curls ethereal in the moonlight that glinted off of his open smile.

The tiefling’s tail curled as arousal coiled in her core.

“Can you smell that, my love?” he murmured against her ear, his voice like velvet. “Your blood sings a different tune when desire courses through you.”

All of Tav’s limbs went still under Astarion. She tilted her head to expose more of her throat with just one of his intoxicating caresses.

He ducked to her neck, filling her with the anticipation of his teeth—when she felt that damn laugh of his instead. “You’re too easy.”

“I am not!” Tav shoved at the vampire’s chest, until he rolled off of her with utter glee.

“Aren’t you just?”

A rustling along the treeline drew their attention before Tav could come up with a response, which was actually a relief for her.

That turned to a thrum of excitement when she saw the hulking frame of Halsin stepping into the silver light.

“The night air carries far more than the fragrance of wildflowers.” He rumbled in his warm voice. “Your scents together are sweeter than honey.”

Tav swallowed thickly against the thrill Halsin’s easy words sent through her.

If they were right, about her scent and how it changed…she wondered how much it had already given away. Were her deepest cravings laid bare? Not only for Astarion’s wicked touch—but the primal pull she felt for the druid.

The vampire’s breath was back along her neck, his voice in her ear. “How deliciously wicked of you, my darling.”

Astarion’s arm slid deftly around Tav’s middle, pulling her back into his chest, nipping at her shoulder.

His playful tone was gone. Replaced with something almost, possessive about the way he held, the way he teased the marks he’d left along her throat just the other night.

Astarion wasn’t taunting anymore. He was showing off.

And she was malleable as clay in his hands.

Halsin’s gaze burned as he drank in the sight. “If…my company remains desired, that is.”

Astarion lifted his head long enough to give an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “You’re as insufferable as this one.” He scoffed, giving Tav a playful squeeze. “I believe we are both still willing…but.”

Tav turned to him, just to see him smirk.

“We play by my rules.” His lips grazed the shell of her pointed ear, making her tail curled. “Won’t we, my sweet?”

Her mouth opened to give a teasing protest, but the implication finally sank into her lust-addled mind. He wanted control.

And she would gladly give it.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice tinged with a needy rasp. “Whatever you wish, Astarion.”

“So it shall be.” Halsin’s approval was palpable, a low rumbling purr resonating from deep within his chest as he stepped closer to where they were tangled.

In one fluid motion, Halsin shed his clothes and armor, baring his toned, sun-kissed form with shameless ease.

The druid cut an impressive figure in the moonlight—power and grace given form. A bear of man, bound and rounded with muscles. And…blessed with size in another, poignant area. 

Astarion bit back an Elvish curse beside her.

Desire scorched through her veins, but her gaze deferred to her vampire, who surprised her yet again with his reaction.

Astarion snicker, a sly smirk curving his sculpted lips. “I told you,” he said, recalling a previous conversation. Making her eyebrows lift. “Our dear druid would outlaw clothes if he could.”

“It is a crime to cover up the natural beauty of each and every creature.” Halsin stepped closer without an ounce of trepidation. “Especially, of the two before me now.”

“Halsin, is that an invitation to disrobe?” Astarion teased, as he slid from behind Tav. “Subtly isn’t your…strong suit, is it?

The vampire approached the druid with a flourish, his pale fingers splayed over the tanned, broad chest. Drawing that delicious contrast Tav had been craving. Delicate features against the rough and wild.

Her thighs pressed together.

She watched him, the way he shed his clothing, waiting for the mask to slip over his face and make his eyes go distant. 

But, there was none of that. Tav was left marveling at the ease and confidence Astarion exuded. He was a man transformed, free from the bounds imposed and…happy to pursue his desires. 

Astarion’s crimson gaze gleamed on hers, as he leaned up to kiss Halsin.

Their lips met eagerly. Reveling in the taste of each other, tongues exploring and claiming territory. Despite his vampiric strength and power, Astarion appeared wonderfully porcelain next to the broad-shouldered Halsin. Masculine in their own ways that contrasted beautifully. 

Tav needed out of the confines of her clothing.

Astarion’s hand slid over the druid’s face like well-worn leather as he tilted down to the pale elf. The shorter was still up on his toes—when he murmured something to Halsin.

 His arms slipped around the larger man’s neck as, with a laugh of pure delight, he leapt into Halsin’s waiting arms, his lithe legs wrapping around the wood elf’s muscular waist. Halsin caught him easily, strong hands gripping the vampire’s thighs as he pressed Astarion against the rough bark of a nearby tree.

Heat surged through Tav's entire body, her tail curling fully against her back, the sound of want nearly escaping from behind her hand.

Halsin was leaving searing kisses down Astarion’s throat, pink spots blooming along his pale skin—her blood making him flush. Until the druid moved to the side the vamp’s neck that still bore twin marks—

Tav was on her feet, naked, but her tail lashing from side to side. Ready to protect her elf, even from the mountain of a man.

The rogue’s fingers tangled in Halsin’s mane of hair, giving a sharp jerk. Halsin didn’t need more of an explanation. The man just seemed to understand, and his mouth moved from the tender territory of Astarion’s neck.

Lower still he went, peppering kisses along Astarion’s chiseled chest, his toned stomach, until finally, he took Astarion’s aching cock into his mouth. 

Tav watched, transfixed, as Astarion’s head fell back against the tree, his blonde curls over his forehead and clinging to the bark. . His red eyes fluttered closed, but his sounds sweet and understate.

She knew his sounds intimately now. The desperate way he kissed like he never wanted to part, like he was still shocked by the moans that fell unbidden from him when he was truly pleased.

He wasn’t playing it up. He was just…enjoying it.

Halsin was as capable as he boasted, apparently. More than that, he seemed to thoroughly enjoy hollowing his cheeks, sucking to the tip of Astation’s length, and sliding back down him to swallow more. The druid seemed to know, or her vampire had told him, that pleasing Astarion made Tav nearly feral with want.

Desire coursed through her veins like molten lava, pooling low in her belly. Her tail swayed, slow, the tip curling up with an eagerness…to touch, to taste, anything 

As if sensing her need, Astarion’s crimson eyes opened lazily, catching her gaze, and he lifted one of those elegant hands towards her, inviting her closer.

“Darling…” The way his lips parted and showed his fangs—Tav was already closing the distance between them. “You…really must try this mouth of Halsin’s.” 

She could have snorted at his audacity, but still it drue her right in.

Astarion was kissing her as soon as she was within arm’s reach, pulling her in to his side, none too careful with her hips or tail bumping into the massive druid between his legs. Tav lifted her appendage away though, sliding it to just barely curl around her vampire’s thigh, the caress comforting and familiar. 

“I would find great joy in satisfying your desires, should you so wish.” Halsin said, pulling his mouth free enough to do so. “Your body is a work, crafted with nature’s artisan skill. It would be a pleasure to appreciate it.” 

“And you thought I liked to pontificate in bed.” Astarion smirked, pulling Tav into his arms, his pale hands sliding over her heated tiefling skin. 

“I assure you I did not say pontificate.” She huffed as he pushed her back against the sturdy oak.

“No? He cupped her chin, his hand sliding down to her throat. “What was it…monologue then. Like a villain upon the stage, delivering a dying soliloquy?”

Tav opened her mouth to retort, when both men decided to remind her where they were.

Halsin’s large hands grabbed her hips, already making her gasp with the contrast of his warmth to the usual chill of Astarion’s touch. 

Her legs parted around broad shoulders as the druid hoisted her over them with a grin. “Hells—” She gasped, her back pressed against the bark of the same tree as she was lifted. Her grappled for Halsin’s hair, though her tail flung around Astarion’s waist—clinging to him for balance. 

“Relax darling, we’ve got you.” The vampire purred, moving to her side, leaning up to kiss her. Just as the druid’s mouth lapped at her soaking folds. 

Tav groaned, her head titled back until her horns dragged across the tree.

Normally, recently, perhaps she’d been the one doing the most talking. Astarion had his lines, his well practiced charms, but Tav cut right through them. 

But, it was damn hard to focus with Halsin’s tongue lathing at her sex, finding her clit with ease and confidence, though far from the practice and precision of her vampire’s dexterous mouth.

“Ah, my dear, the sight of you in such ecstasy as your essence is devoured... I could easily become accustom to it.” He purred to her, until her chest was so heated the summer air felt chilled against her peaked nipples.

Tav’s nails dug into the tree behind her, just as a deceptively delicate looking hand grabbed her by the horn, tilting her head to him. “All it took was an archdruid, to get you to focus on your pleasure first?” Astarion rumbled low to her. 

Tav couldn’t help but be just a little…defiant. Her vampire was calling the shots, but she could just let her palm just graze the length of him, before the vampire caught her wrist, pinning it to the wood behind her. 

“Ah-ha, not tonight my sweet.” 

Tav blinked at him, with as much focus she could manage as Halsin drew her closer and closer to the edge of her pleasure.

“I want to ravish you, have you be ravished. To have you enjoy all of the attention and affection gift to me.” Astarion confessed, his face gone softer. More sincere. “That is all I want.” 

Tav felt half-wild. Driven to a mad love, body and soul, by this amazing man.

✿⊹₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩ ₊⁺⋆☽⋆⁺₊⊹ ✿

The moonlight cast pale highlights across Tav's bare skin as Astarion's lips trailed down her neck. His fangs grazed her delicate flesh, eliciting a shiver. "Do as I say, druid," he murmured against her ear, glancing at Halsin with a wicked grin. “Our darling Tav deserves to be pleased.”

Halsin's eyes burned with an animalistic desire, and she could feel his growl rumbling in her trembling thighs.

"Please," Tav breathed, desire coiling hotly in her core.

With a feral snarl, Halsin parted her thighs and his tongue darted out, lapping at her slick folds. Tav gasped, back arching as Astarion captured her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her moans. His hands roamed freely, tweaking her nipples as Halsin's expert mouth worked her into a frenzy.

Unbridled pleasure crashed over her in waves, each flick of Halsin's talented tongue sending sparks dancing across her nerves. Astarion devoured her cries, his touch fever-hot against her skin. The coil within tightened, tightened until finally, it snapped. She shattered against Halsin's mouth with a primal cry.

As the last tremors faded, Astarion scooped Tav into his arms effortlessly. He carried her into the tall grass, laying her down with utmost tenderness amid the wildflowers.

Tav traced her fingers along Astarion's chest, admiring the way the moonlight caught on the sweat glistening on his skin.

"You two are a vision" Halsin said, a note of awe in his voice.

"You have no idea," Astarion murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to her neck.

Tav shivered at the touch. She let her eyes drift over to Halsin, who was kneeling in the grass next to them. Slick on his lips. His massive cock aching for attention.

“Astarion…?”

“Hmm,” The darkened red eyes took in the sight that was the archdruid on his knees. “Well, I might like to get my mouth on you, Halsin.” Astarion's voice was low, almost a growl.

The wood elf let out a low, throaty chuckle.. "I think that might be a bit much for one mouth," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Then I should help.” Tav said, sliding from Astarion’s hold onto her knees.

He cocked an eyebrow, before giving his assent.

"I've been wanting to do this for a long time," he said, pushing at the druid’s chest. The muscle-bound man fell willingly back onto his heels.

Astarion smiled, his eyes never leaving Tav’s as he lowered his head to Halsin’s lap. Tav watched as he took Halsin’s cock into his mouth, her body trembling with fresh anticipation.

He was…big. Massive. Damn the druid for being right. He tasted of earth and musk and raw want—and Astarion drew Tav to him with a gaze. They knelt in tandem, their attention wholly consumed by Halsin’s aching cock.

Tav lips stretched around Halsin’s tip, greedy as she ever was to suck him down. Her moans hummed against his skin. It his turn to join Tav, watching as Halsin’s face took on a wild obscenity that the vampire couldn’t help but admire. For how open he was.

As they continued their dual ministrations, Astarion saw the flick of Tav’s tail, curling at the small of her back with renewed desire. He spotted the moment her hand snuck between her legs.

Suddenly, Astarion felt a shift in the atmosphere, his sharp eyes catching Tav's hand being gently enveloped by Halsin's larger one.

"May I?" Halsin asked him, his voice carrying a note of respect that Astarion found endearing. The druid was committed to following his rules, especially for such a untamed man.

Astarion gave a nod. He watched as Halsin’s thick fingers replaced Tav's delicate ones as they pressed into her. The sight of her squirming under Halsin’s touch stirred something within Astarion—that made him purr against his mouthful of the druid’s cock.

Tav gave a soft moan, her hand wrapped around the base of Halsin’s length, eyes gone unfocused as he slipped another finger into her. Astarion couldn't help but tease, "Oh my, how ever will you take all of him, when a couple fingers drive you to distraction" His smirk held a hint of challenge.

Halsin simply smiled at Astarion’s remark, his gaze never leaving Tav. “I know a rather ancient magic for such a predicament. ” he responded calmly, his hand never ceasing its efforts to make the tiefling tremble.

“Please…” Her voice quivered, those bright eyes unfocused as she begged him. “Astarion…can I?”

He grinned wickedly in return. “You may.”

✿⊹₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩ ₊⁺⋆☽⋆⁺₊⊹ ✿

Tav sank down onto the soft grass, her hands and knees buried into the lush carpet. She was soaked from the druid’s mouth, and his fingers, and burning with how empty she felt.

Her eyes still on her lover, as she arched her back, position herself. As she curled her tail off to her side, presenting to hurry the druid along to take her.

Halsin’s large hands caressing her curves, anticipation making her shudder.

The blunt head of his cock pressed against her slit, and the tiefling’s talons pierced into the turf. When he finally sank into her, stretching her, filling her. Tav cried out, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

“Just relax, little one.” With one slow thrust, he pushed inside, stretching her deliciously full.

“Are you alright, love?” Astarion asked, concern lacing his voice.

Tav gasped, rocking back against the druid. “It’s…good…fuck, more.” She demanded. 

And she was rewarded with Astarion’s deep chuckle, and more of Halsin’s thick cock. 

“More you shall have.” The druid rumbled.

Fuck, the way he stretched her. She could feel him against every wall, and even a shift of his hips made a mewl come from her bitten lips. 

Reassured, Astarion let out a filthy praise for her, his hand sliding over the arch of her back. Before deft fingers found their way down her belly to play with her clit. 

Tav cried out, back arching as the elves took over every sense. Her tail curled around Astarion’s arm as he played with her.

Halsin set a steady rhythm, driving into her again and again until her cries melted into wordless moans of bliss. The pressure built rapidly until finally she fell apart, climax crashing over her in shattering waves.

“Gorgeous creature.” The druid hummed, his fingers curled into her thigh.

“Careful…” Astarion eased her into the grass, his hand along her trembling thigh. “She’s quite sensitive after she comes.”

Tav was sinking to her belly, worn out, needing a break as Halsin slipped from her.  Astarion He soothed, his cool touch welcomed against her still throbbing sex.

“M’fine Tav panted, her cheek pressed into the soft grass, her usually sharp eyes completely out of focus. “More than fine.” 

The vampire’s eyes went to Halsin as the druid stroked himself with Tav’s slick.

"Is this the usual response from your bedfellows?" Astarion inquired, a hint of admiration slipping into his tone. Tav had rolled onto her side on the grass, a smile on her lips still as she shivered with aftershocks. 

“She did exceedingly well.” Halsin said, with all the warmth they expected from him. “Usually it takes a Nymph’s spell to take what nature has blessed me with.” 

The tiefling chuckled, but the vampire’s brows rose nearly into his hair. “A what? Sexual magic? Halsin…well, actually, I’m not at all surprised.”

“Would you like me to show you?” Halsin’s voice dropped impossibly lower, and he gestured towards the bed of grass. 

Astarion’s eyes darted to hers, but Tav could see the curiosity, and want. She grinned and nodded, as if he needed her permission to have what he already wanted. 

The pale elf moved, fluid as he always was when he crawled over his Tav. A kiss demanded and a kiss given. 

Then, to both Tav and Astarion’s surprise, Halsin leaned forward, his tongue tracing along the vampire’s tight rim of muscle.

Astarion yelped, his eyes flying wide, before melting into the unexpected touch.

Tav leaned up on her elbows, alert, scooting to sit up, to act. ”Astarion?”

“I’m fine.” He shivered. “I’ve never…experienced nymph magic,” he breathed, his voice thick with wonder and delight.

Tav had to make sure. Cupping his cheek until she caught his eyes—his gaze bright, wild, and fully present.

Her fingers curled into his silvery hair. 

Halsin…never lacked enthusasim. Even the push of his tongue dropped Astarion’s head to her lap, his panted breaths across her thighs.

“More?” The druid asked, leaning up from the vampire with a sound of protest from the pale elf’s lips. 

“Oh yes,” Astarion groaned spreading his legs wider in shameless invitation. “Take me, beast.”

He’d been waiting to use that line, she knew it. But that meant he was here, his humor intact as Tav watched Halsin press his hips flush to Astarion’s ass.

✿⊹₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩ ₊⁺⋆☽⋆⁺₊⊹ ✿

Astarion’s breath caught in his throat as Halsin’s thick length stretched him open, the delicious burn stoking the flames of his desire. He was already shuddering before the druid even moved his hips. 

It wasn’t…his first time recieving. Far from it. He did his best not to let his mind wander back to those times—but he couldn’t help but wish he’d known the spell Halsin had whispered into his skin. The sheer pleasure of the stretch alone. 

He was panting against Tav’s familiar skin, breath playing over her ribs and her chest. If he had enough focus, he’d latched his lips around one her dark nipple—but that would require him being able to focus enough to watch where his teeth landed. 

He must have been still for too long, because he felt the blunt points of her nails slidng through his hair, tugging at him to look up, always making sure he was alright.

His cooled heart was always warmed when she did, even if he pretended to be annoyed. 

“Fuck,” Astarion finally lifted his head, a grin on his lips even as he panted. He pressed his lips to hers. 

He could hear the grin in Halsin’s face as the druid gripped his hips, and slid back slowly from him. 

Anticipation built sublimely in the vampire. And the first powerful thrust was everything he’d craved—he was driven deeper into the cradle of Tav’s thighs, her slick folds caressing his aching cock.

He could feel her shiver under him as each buck of Halsin’s hips rutted them together. 

“Tav…come here,” the vampire barely had to voice his desire against her still shining lips. 

Tav whimpered into his mouth in assent. She slid down his body, hooking her legs along the back of Astarion’s thighs—until he slid easy into her waiting warmth. 

They both groaned at Halsin’s next brutal thrust. 

Tav’s claws skimmed his sweat-slicked shoulders as she wrapped her arms around her vampire. 

Halsin pounded into them both with bestial fervor. The air was thick with the tang of sex and the slick sounds of flesh meeting flesh.

Trapped between them, wonderfully so, Astarion couldn’t think of a word other…than complete.

He drank in Tav’s cries of ecstasy, reveling in her growing desperation.

“That’s it, my love,” he panted against the curve of her neck between fevered kisses. “Let me hear you.”

Her walls clenched around him in response, silken and scorching. Halsin’s wild abandon jostled them both, the spawn taking Tav with as he was taken in turn.

Astarion threw his head back with a guttural sound, lost to everything but the dizzying spiral of pleasure consuming him from all sides. He was alive and set ablaze.

And how pleasant it was to burn.

✿⊹₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩ ₊⁺⋆☽⋆⁺₊⊹ ✿

Halsin wrapped his bulky arms around Astarion and Tav, pulling their sweat-slicked bodies against his broad chest.

The three figures lay entwined, spent and panting, exhausted limbs heavy.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breaths mingling with the gentle rustling of leaves and chirping of crickets in the surrounding woods.

Astarion turned his head on Halsin’s shoulder to gaze at Tav, a lazy smile playing at his lips.

Tav met his eyes, her own crinkling with amusement.

A chuckle bubbled up from Astarion’s throat. “Well, that was certainly...invigorating,” he quipped.

Tav’s musical laughter rang out as she leaned in, capturing Astarion’s mouth in a tender kiss, the casual intimacy of long-time lovers.

As the couple exchanged sweet nothings, Halsin watched them with a soft, indulgent smile, content to remain a silent observer.

There was something profoundly beautiful about the pure adoration that flowed between them, the deep bond they so clearly shared. An intimacy he could appreciate, even if he had no real part in it.

“Enchanting, how enraptured you are with one another. ” the druid remarked warmly. “A fleeting moment of passion, precious in its ephemerality.”

Astarion rolled his eyes fondly at the druid’s poetic waxing. “Ever the hopeless romantic, aren’t you Halsin? I suppose there are worse things.”

He turned back to Tav, fingertips grazing her cheek.”Now, where were we, my dearest? Ah yes...basking in the afterglow of our salacious little adventure...”

As Astarion drew her into another languid kiss, Halsin suppressed a wistful sigh.

What they had was rare and special, not to be intruded upon. He would enjoy this temporary closeness, this glimpse into their private world...but come morning, he knew, it would be a cherished memory and nothing more.

The lovers only had eyes for each other.

[vixstarria]

'Erotic misadventures'

Hello, I wrote this for an April Fools challenge, and now it is your problem.

Challenge terms: The challenge is simple - write something spicy that uses the worst possible terms for body parts, sex acts, and so on!

AO3 link

So I've always had this headcanon that Tav and Astarion perform readings of really bad erotica for the group at camp. This is a depiction of one such evening.

All origin characters.

18+, humor, banter. Is this actually smut? I don't know. I hope not.

Content warnings: ...Yes.

Approx. 1,800 words

It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the best piece of fiction they’d ever come across.

Meticulously handwritten in a tidy script, the text filled a sizeable journal. “Her Highness’s Erotic Misadventures” read the title. “Thank you for beta reading, Harpy Quinn”, it said at the bottom of the title page, whatever that meant. 

Despite both of them having a professional interest in lewd literature, neither Astarion nor Tav had ever come across this piece before - they doubted it had ever been published. They doubted it could ever be published, for that matter. However, it must have gone through many hands privately - on flipping through the journal it was discovered that the end contained a multitude of little gushing reviews in other people’s writing.

The author must have been one strange individual, with even weirder friends. How embarrassing.

The gang had called it a day and were gathered around the campfire. Astarion and Tav had been taking turns reading from the manuscript, to their companions’ amusement (and, in Gale’s case, vexation).

Despite being seasoned experts in the genre, Wyll and Shadowheart were visibly perturbed (albeit also intrigued) by the piece. Karlach hung on to every word, and even Lae’zel had stopped tending to her weapons to listen to the strange tale spun by the anonymous author. Volo, whose unwarranted presence continued to be tolerated, although no one could quite pinpoint why, was silent, furiously scribbling notes in his own journal. And as for Gale, well…

“This is deplorable,” said Gale, weary disappointment and disdain in his voice. “The only reason I am still here is because none of you can be trusted with the pot.”

 Astarion ignored him and continued to pace around the fire, reading aloud from the journal.

As the title suggested, the story depicted a series of obscene misfortunes which had befallen a hapless princess and her loyal knight. After several chapters of delving into the princess’s tragic and salacious backstory in (frankly bewildering) detail, the narrative had at last moved forward to a scene in which the princess’s knight came to her rescue after she had been kidnapped and taken away to a cave by a dragon. The knight faced the said dragon (who had then taken a dragonborn form for some reason) and its two harpy henchwomen.

“‘Its weak spot is its bussy’, the princess cried out from the cave,” read Astarion. “What in the hells is a ‘bussy’..?” he asked, lifting his head to seek counsel from his companions. 

Everyone around the fire just shook their heads, equally perplexed. 

“Hmm… Well, it seems our hero doesn’t know that word either...” Astarion continued reading.

“‘Puzzled, the paladin took a shot in the dark, cramming her manhood-’ Wait, what? I could have sworn...” Astarion shuffled through the pages. “…Oh she’s got both sets. How convenient… Anyway. …‘Cramming her manhood into the dragonborn’s meatgrinder’.” Astarion frowned again, sitting down next to Karlach.  

“Is the ‘meatgrinder’ the dragonborn’s mouth, or..?” asked Shadowheart.  

“I… think so? There’s not many contextual clues here, it just says that the ‘meatgrinder swirled around her pork sword, stunning her and nearly making her forsake her oath of propriety’.” 

“Well keep going, we’ll figure it out,” Karlach said, impatiently.

“The two harpies swarmed the stunned paladin. A hand deftly shed the paladin’s breastplate, exposing her pearls, whilst another grabbed her by the neck, clawed fingers shredding the remnants of her clothing, as two hands groped and teased her milkbags. She felt a hand creep up the back of her thigh while another hand pulled on her hair, as another crept to her moistening oyster-” Astarion stopped, with an exasperated sigh. “How many hands do these bloody things have?! I’m losing focus.” 

“And the mention of pearls…” Wyll said, thoughtfully. “It’s peculiar, you would think a pearl would be inside the… never mind”.  

 “Shadowheart, could you and Tav assist us with a visual, perchance,” asked Astarion. “I can’t be the only one who can’t keep track.”

“Perhaps I could also be of assis-” started Wyll.  

“Perhaps you could sit right back down,” Astarion warned with a glower. “I'll step in if needed. Where was I..? Ah yes, the err… the milkbags. So there’s definitely two hands there.”  

Both Tav and Shadowheart giggled as Shadowheart stood to join Tav by the fire and reached around Tav to lightly place her hands over the other woman’s breasts.

“Nice,” said Karlach. 

“The harpy pinched her pearls, and pulled her into a deep, ravishing kiss,” Astarion read, looking up expectantly at Tav and Shadowheart.

“Uh… That is not in the book, soldier,” said Karlach, reading over Astarion’s shoulder.  

“Spoilsport,” muttered Astarion. “I was just trying to set the mood before moving forward - the author’s pace is almost too relentless even for me. But fine.” 

Astarion cleared his throat and continued. 

“Then one of the harpies used her hands to pry open the paladin’s clam.” He looked up again. “Well come on, Shadowheart, pry open Tav’s clam.” 

Shadowheart simply laughed and returned to her spot across the fire. 

“If you’re not sure how - we could show you later tonight, if you like,” Astarion called out after her. 

“I’m sure I could give you some pointers on dealing with clams, Astarion,” retorted Shadowheart. 

“Is that so..?” he purred. “Interesting… What about you, Karlach, are you adept with clams?” 

“You know I haven’t had any clams in a decade, fangs!” Karlach groaned. “But before that… They used to just fling themselves at me, already opened, yeah.” 

“Fascinating. Lae’zel?” 

“There are a number of women who have survived bedding me,” the githyanki responded, deadpan. 

“I am… in equal parts concerned and aroused at the thought,” Astarion mulled over her words. 

“I wish anyone could survive bedding me,” grumbled Karlach. 

“There there, darling…” Astarion reached out to carefully pat her on a horn. “Now we all know Gale doesn’t know the first thing about clams…” 

“I’ll have you know, in my ethereal relations with my goddess, our connection was so profound that not only have I experienced her ‘clam’, I have interconnected with it on such a sublime and intimate level, been woven so deeply into it to myself have become part of the clam.” 

Gale’s outburst failed to have the effect he had desired, as the group struggled to contain themselves, wheezing and huffing for air. 

“Thank you, Gale, I don’t believe I’ll be able to get that image out of my mind anytime soon,” Astarion continued, trying to maintain his composure. “Wyll..? How fare you with prying clams open?” 

“Well…” The warlock began, with a smile. “I find, that the best way to go about it is to allow the clam to open of its own accord, from heat. From it getting sufficiently… steamy, if I may. I would never simply invade one with my blade.” 

Astarion was about to say something but just chortled instead. 

“Wyll, you rapscallion, every time I think I have you figured out-” 

“What happens next with the harpies?” Came an impatient call from Lae’zel. 

“Yes, give me that, you’re taking too long,” said Tav, snatching the journal back from Astarion. She continued to pace around the fire as she recited: 

“The dragonborn stood before the browbeaten paladin, reveling in her anguish. Even had the harpies not had a firm grasp on the paladin and her unmentionables, she would not have known how to approach the dragonborn – the loathsome creature was covered in impenetrable scales. Its mouth sported rows upon rows of sharp teeth – the only reason it allowed the paladin’s mutton machete out unscathed must have been because it had worse yet torments in mind for it.

The creature turned its back on the paladin, to roar tauntingly at the princess somewhere in the cave. 

‘Behold, as I turn your valiant saviour into naught but a pathetic cumdumpster!’

As it turned its back, the paladin glimpsed a narrow, pink orifice beneath its tail.” 

Karlach and Wyll gasped in unison.  

“The bussy!” Lae’zel hissed in a hushed whisper. 

“The paladin drew on the last of her divine power to throw the harpies off, smiting them unconscious, and plunged her hand into the dragonborn’s puckered hole.” 

“I am going to be sick,” moaned Gale. 

“The dragonborn cackled and flexed their beef ring, tightening its grasp on the paladin’s hand. The paladin reeled in horror, as the dragonborn’s poop chute seemed to suck the paladin’s hand further in, like fleshy quicksand, whilst threatening to snap her wrist.”

A tear of anguish slid down Gale’s cheek.

“It cannot be! Was the bussy a trap?!” came an outcry from Lae’zel.

“No! It could not end this way. Her entire life and all her training had been preparing her for this,” Tav read. “What in the hells, really?” she muttered, before continuing. “In that moment, she knew that the only way out - was through. The paladin took a deep breath and PLUNGED her arm deeper into the dragonborn’s vile cavity,” Tav exclaimed, throwing her own fist in the the air, to the sound of Astarion’s uncontrollable giggling and everyone else’s gasps.

“The dragonborn yelped and tried to expel the paladin’s arm from their pulsating dirtbox, to no avail. The paladin was now elbow deep in the mud dungeon. The two continued to wrestle, the paladin’s arm pumping deeper and deeper into the dragonborn’s dank portal.”

“I fear I may need to tap out soon,” warned Wyll.

“Weakling!” Lae’zel and Shadowheart said in unison, before glaring at one another.

No one, including Karlach herself, could tell whether she was laughing or crying.

“At last, the dragonborn seemed to accept its fate, quivering and taking the paladin’s arm nearly shoulder-deep. The creature grunted and groaned, before stilling, only to unleash an earth-shaking roar, finally forcefully expunging the paladin’s arm in a spray of gooey, milky spunk, as it collapsed on the ground, convulsing, clearly too incapacitated to be of any further threat.”

“Supper is ready,” wept Gale. 

“Shall I take over while you eat?” Astarion asked, to Gale’s immediate renewed protestation.

“That’s alright, I think we should take some mercy on Gale and pause here for the day,” said Tav. “Although let me peek ahead, perhaps it’s tame enough.” She took the journal and flipped forward a few pages. “Oh my…” came a surprised murmur from Tav. “You’ll never guess what happens to the princess and her knight… This may be a problem if we want to continue to visualise this masterpiece properly.” 

“Oh? Dare I ask..?” Astarion was giddy with anticipation. 

“Well… There are now… Five… Six… No, seven! Seven dwarves, who have appeared in the cave.” 

“Goodness gracious,” lamented Astarion. “We will never keep track of all the body parts… Perhaps if Withers steps in to help..? Would you prefer to be the princess or the knight, darling? You can choose, I’ll take the other role.” 

“I am going to use that journal for kindling tomorrow,” said Gale. 

“NO!” came a collective shout from the rest of the group. 

~~~~~

Sorry about the psychic damage, come check out my other work if you dare.

~~~~~

Tagging the usual plus some people who I think might also be doing / were interested in this:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @pursuitseternal @comatosebunny09 @kittenintheden @bardic-inspo @tavyliasin

[yeetmeoutthewindowdaddy]

Halsin can't catch a break

I keep thinking about how Halsin is the only one in my camp that has his shit together.

Of the Tadfools my Tav is the one who has her shit the most together, and yet she's still a fucking mess.

Halsin (partial) POV crack fic thing under the cut.

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

Halsin was rescued from the goblin camp by my Tav.

He must've been in awe, this stranger took down an entire goblin camp to rescue him?

Tav has a ticking ilithid time bomb in her head, and yet she chose to help the tieflings, resuce him, and save the Grove.

Tav must be a true altruist.

And then he finds out that Tav stopped Kagha from killing a child and completing the sealing ritual. Tav has saved the tieflings and given them, and subsequently him, hope.

Tav has made the impossible, possible.

Tav has given him the perfect excuse opportunity to step down as archdruid and leave the grove.

He knows that Tav and co. can help him free Thaniel and lift the Shadow Curse.

Sure— most of Tav's party members are strange and off-putting, but he's not one to judge books by their covers. The fact that Tav can get such vastly different people to effectively work together speaks volumes about Tav's leadership skills.

He must've been so relieved. He wouldn't have to be the competent, composed, leader if he joined Tav's camp. He could solely focus on the Shadow curse and Thaniel — because Tav obviously has her shit together.

The first day of travel after the tiefling party is a bit rocky, which Halsin attributes to everyone being hung over.

And then he finds out that:

Shadowheart is a worshipper of Shar.

Lae'zel hates Shadowheart as much as Shadowheart hates her.

Lae'zel and Shadowheart have tried to kill eachother.

Lae'zel sharpens her blades whenever she can, for as long as she can. (I swear that fucking noise is what drove my durge to kill the bard.)

Gale has an unstable bomb in his chest that is no longer responding to treatment.

(He already knew Wyll had been turned into a devil by Mizora because he valiantly refused to kill Karlach. What he didn't know is that) Wyll has a concerning relationship with alcohol.

No one can touch Karlach because she'll accidentally set them on fire.

Astarion is a vampire.

To say he's a bit concerned would probably be an understatement. But Tav has done well in keeping her companions from killing eachother, so it's fine. This is fine.

And then he opens the communal camp chest.

There is a corpse in the chest.

No, there are corpses, plural, in the chest.

Humanoids, goblinoids, animals.

Are these the bodies of those Astarion has killed to feed from? Is this a Shar thing? A gith thing?

Why are they in the camp chest?

Why would they keep them!?

Why would they keep them in the camp chest!?

Halsin asks Tav about the dead bodies.

"Oh, those are my trophies." she cheerfully tells him. (Note: this wasn't a durge run, it was a "normal" Tav run.)

Halsin simultaneously realizes several things:

Everyone in this camp is insane.

These are the people he's counting on to aid him in his quest to save Thaniel and lift the Shadow curse.

None of them have their shit together. Except him.

Traveling with the Tadfools is more going to be more stressful than leading the Grove was.

Poor Halsin can't catch a break.

[mimsynims]

Fool For Love

part 3

~~~

part 1, part 2

~~~

Author’s Note: First of all, thank you for the lovely comments! 🥰 Second, I’m writing this as I go, so while I’ll try to post every other day, it might come a point when I’m not done on time. Just so you know if it suddenly takes longer for the next part to be posted.

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mild?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, eventual happy ending

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only… now you do. And you’re not handling it very well.

~~~

It’s almost sundown when you and the others are back at the camp again. It’s been a good day, all in all. You were able to stock up on potions and scrolls, and Karlach sweet-talked her way into a good deal on a handaxe. Not that you were there to watch it happen — Halsin’s favour had you talking to both the new leader of the Druids, Francesca, and Rath, the latter engaging you in a longer conversation than originally planned. Not that you minded, Rath is a good conversationalist. And quite handsome.

Yes, you did notice, but you kept it polite, not at all in the mood for flirting. Not when your thoughts continuously drifted back to a certain vampire that declined tagging along at the last minute.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but your eyes roam Halsin’s tent when you search him out to relay the information you gathered today. It’s probably a coincidence that Astarion decided to remain, but you can’t help but look for signs of someone sharing Halsin’s bed.

If Halsin sees you snooping, he doesn’t confront you about it, and you feel silly when you leave him to find the others. Who he sleeps with is none of your business, and you tell yourself that this is enough. Either you get over yourself, or you let Astarion go.

Which is easier said than done.

“Hey Karlach, let me see that axe of yours.” The rest of your party is gathered around the fire, preparing tonight’s meal. “From what I hear, I should bring you every time I need to haggle down the price for something.”

“Look at this beauty!” Karlach happily shows you her new weapon. “I’m going to polish it tomorrow, really bring out the shine it deserves.”

“How come you weren’t there, Tav?” Astarion sounds nonchalant, like he couldn’t care less but decides to ask anyway.

“I believe Tav had more important things to do.” Trust Lae’zel to come to your rescue.

“Halsin wanted some updates from the Grove,” you add.

“Mhmm, but surely that’s not the only reason why you talked for so long with Rath, Tav?” Shadowheart teases. “It seemed like you two really hit it off.”

“Yeah, he’s cute, Tav. Go for it!”

You want to look at Astarion, but you force yourself to turn your attention to Karlach instead, making sure to sound as casual as possible. “He’s nice, but…” You already have someone. “Perhaps you should go for him, Karlach, if you find him cute?”

“Nah, I have my eyes on someone else.”

It’s adorable, the way she lights up, and you wish you could hug her. “Hmmm, might this be a blacksmith we all know?”

“Tav!”

“This is secret to none, Karlach,” Lae’zel says. “Even a blind fool couldn’t help but notice the way you swooned when he helped you in the Grove.”

“I didn’t swoon!”

“There was definitely some swooning happening,” Shadowheart chimes in. “We all saw it.”

“Aaaanyway…! This was about Tav, not me.”

Dammit. You should’ve left for your tent when you had the chance. “No, no, I think we should talk more about you and Dammon.”

“Come on, Tav.”

“Yes, Tav, tell us all about your conversation with Rath.”

For a moment you somehow forgot that Astarion is there, too. “There’s nothing to tell. He’s just nice and easy to talk to.”

“Hmm, you’re not very convincing, Tav.”

With a groan, you turn to the wizard. “Not you too, Gale.” For someone so hung up on his ex, he sure looks jealous over the fact that you might be interested in someone else. “I know you all probably only mean well, but if you don’t drop this right now…”

You expect either Astarion or Lae’zel to make some kind of comment, but none of your companions say a peep. There’s an awkward silence for a few tension-filled moments and you wonder if you sounded too harsh. They only want your best, after all.

Thankfully, Shadowheart steps in, clearing her throat. “I think our food is ready.”

Once you sit down to eat, you watch them all as they talk and laugh. It feels like usual again, and you’re reminded how lucky you are to have come across such amazing people in this extraordinary situation life put you in.

Your gaze rests a little bit longer on your lover. He’s always beautiful, but it’s entrancing the way the flickering flames seem to caress his cheekbones, the arch of his nose. His smile. He’s laughing at something Lae’zel just said, and going by the look on her face, it wasn’t meant to be funny.

It’s quite the motley crew you’re leading — and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

You freeze when you suddenly find yourself locking eyes with Astarion. He isn’t supposed to catch you staring, and you quickly look away even though you know it’s too late. You wait a few minutes, and when you glance in his direction again, he’s talking to Gale.

Why must it be so difficult? Are you making it more difficult than it needs to be? You want to be with him and only him, so why not just ask it of him? If he says no, you’ll at least know instead of always wondering. And if he says yes, maybe he’ll grow to love you back.

Once again, you wish you had someone to talk to — and after today you think you can confide in Karlach — but it feels good to have come to a decision. Hopefully you can get him alone after dinner, because you would prefer to have it done before the stargazing Gale has planned.

You allow yourself to imagine the two of you lying next to each other in the grass, holding hands, smiling. Or his arm around you, holding you near.

You refuse to think about the other option, even though it’s the far more likely outcome.

For now, you’re going to pretend that everything’s going to be alright.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Nobody’s Fool Part 2 (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Synopsis: Astarion surprises you at the dock and an impromptu sleepover occurs. You and Astarion talk about why you worship Selune and your history.

Content warning: Deceased parents, work camp, Dead dove, mentions of attempted SA

Author note: thank you so much for all the love! This will probably have a few more parts so I hope you enjoy! Also I am writing him as super awkward on purpose

Not my pic- if it is your, please let me know so I can tag you! @casualya

 You sit and skip rocks across the murky water- the rest of your companions are in their respective spots inside the dilapidated buildings. You usually spend time with Karlach, but, for whatever reason, Shadowheart seems to enjoy taking whatever company you have. Thankfully Karlach is actually your best friend and loves you, but it still hurts. 

 You know you could ask the others- you are sure one of them would want to spend time with you. Hells, Gale even commented on the Beach being a fun place and you didn’t think to invite him. Maybe it’s because the last time went so catastrophically that you don’t want to put yourself in that position again.

 Or because it would never be the date you had envisioned with Astarion. You had your blanket packed up next to your tent with a bottle of wine- you had a pouch to collect shells. You thought it might be fun for him to have something from a different place and shells are always so fun to find- at least from what you remember before the Mine. Your parents used to take you all the time and you would collect seashells together. 

 It’s the last time you truly, truly felt loved outside of praying to your Goddess. You don’t feel like you fit in with the other Selunite Clerics, you try your best, but there is always someone more desirable, more interesting, and you are just eh.

 There is always a Shadowheart that stands out in the crowd- deservedly so- she is a rare gem. You are just like any other gem Astarion has seen over the last two hundred years. 

 Sure people liked you, but it was never the people you liked. It was always the ones who were overbearing, hell bent on settling down and having a housewife. That isn’t what you want, but the men who want adventure and to be best friends, lovers, etc. want the more exciting individuals 

  The tears fall without your permission and you release a sigh of despair. You let your shoulders shake and your heart ache- it is better to release the pain in your chest than power through it. It will be better to get it out now while no one is around and you don’t have to be so wildly embarrassed about being emotional. 

 It’s not that you are still hung up on Astarion- you actually find it’s easier to keep boundaries if you don’t talk to him for tooo long. Just long enough to not make him feel left out, but not too long that he feels like he is special to you. 

 Of course, it hurts you to do that. You feel like he deserves to be special to someone- it just wasn’t meant to be you and you need to hold onto all of that specialness for the person you are meant to be with. 

 But what if you don’t want to be with anyone else ever again? This is your first big big crush, ever! What if you are never capable of developing feelings like this again!?

 You skip another rock pitifully across the water and watch as a fish jumps out to get it- only to be eaten by a bigger fish right after. 

 Typical, you sigh, my rock was given to someone just for someone else to receive the benefits. 

 It’s probably a good thing you are by yourself- you are quite the bummer today.

 “There you are- I have been looking for you just about everywhere, Darling,” a familiar voice says from behind you. 

 Oh great, you think, trying to collect yourself enough that it’s not obvious you are crying, he probably wants advice on how to make things right with Shadowheart. He never comes over and this is the first night Karlach is-

“I bought this for you,” he says awkwardly as he sits down next to you on the dock, “I thought it might help while uh fighting- so you don’t have to use up all of your magic like you did the other day.”

 You had felt like shit and slept through a whole day- you had overextended yourself with healing the day before and it had really taken a toll on you. You began feeling better today, but Shadowheart still took over the healing matters which you appreciated. 

 You look at Astarion’s hands and you are shocked to see an Amulet of Restoration. You have always wanted one, but they are ridiculously expensive. You had been eyeing this one while you were visiting the Myconoid Colony- you didn’t think anyone noticed. 

“I- I don’t know what to say.”

“I think the typical response is, ‘Thank you’, but I would like to request a very kind adjective at the end.”

 Astarion wiggles his eyebrows at you and you snort, shaking your head. 

“Thank you, beautiful,” you tease and notice how his face becomes slightly more lively and the tips of his ears grow pink.

 How silly- he probably gets that descriptor all the time. 

 You put the necklace on, it’s warm against your skin and it helps to heal the cracks in your chest. A sigh of relief leaves you as the weight of the world seems to lift ever so slightly. 

 You both sit there in silence- you are unable to come up with any topics of conversation. Your brain just feels icky and tired. You also wouldn’t even know what to say anymore. You haven’t really talked in a while- a whole week to be exact. Time seems to move differently on this journey- a week feels like months. 

You mostly expect him to get up and leave, but he never does.

“So- uh- the water is… dark.” 

 You don’t know what surprises you more- that Astarion attempted to start a conversation first or that his small talk is truly truly terrible.

 Either way, you may need to use this necklace sooner rather than later so you don’t die of shock.

“It’s exceptionally dark,” you add, “I bet there are all kinds of beasties down there.” 

Astarion’s feet get a little further away from the edge of the dock and he chuckles nervously. The water is quite unsettling and you hope you didn’t scare him too much. You don’t think you are ready for him to leave yet. 

“Oh, you think so? Like what?” 

 This is… odd. He wants to keep talking? You feel like you are usually dragging the conversation along and now that you have had time to thoroughly analyze all of your previous interactions- you still don’t know how you had been so blind.

 This is not within the norm.

“Well- I heard,” you look left and right before making eye contact again, “a Kraken may live down there.”

 Astarion groans and you laugh heartily- Gale has been talking about Kraken’s all day and Astarion had looked so annoyed by the end of the journey to the Decrepit Village that everyone steered clear of him. No one wanted a piercing insult on their psyche that evening.

“Not you too!”

“Did you know-“

“Please- no!” He says in exasperation, “any more fun Kraken facts and I may let myself become one’s meal.”

 You shake your head and play with your hands- trying to find some way to keep the conversation going. It’s pathetic, but you don’t want to stop talking to him. That tiny piece of hope doesn’t want to. 

“What do you think it’s blood tastes like?” You ask, “the Kraken, I mean.”

 You don’t necessarily know why that particular thought seems to interest you, but you look at the water and think. You don’t look at his face, mostly worried you might have offended him by even asking. Is that something you can ask a Vampire?

“Would it be more mammal or fish-like?”

 Astarion looks equally as curious regarding this line of thought.

“Well, I tried a fish when we were near the Grove- it was atrocious, truly,” Astarion shudders, “I can’t imagine a Kraken is going to taste that much better.” 

 “Fish really tastes that bad?”

 Astarion nods with a scowl, “it’s not nearly as bad as the bugs and rats Cazador fed me, but I still have no desire to indulge in that again.”

 You blink a few times, unsure if you heard him right.

 “Rats and bugs?” You ask, “I thought you always fed off of people.”

 Astarion throws his head back with a cynical laugh.

“That was a good one, Darling.”

 “I wasn’t joking.”

  Astarion looks perplexed and then seems to be immediately flooded with shame- beginning to get back up and make his leave.

“On that note-”

“Wait,” you get up quickly, “we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, okay? But there is no judgment from me- ever. I promise.”

 You both stand there, staring at each other, and he is searching your eyes for any sign of deception. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he sat back down. 

 You aren’t sure how close you should sit next to him, so you give yourself and him a relatively decent-friend sized gap. 

 You can still be his friend- that you can do.

“Cazador would have me bring the prettiest souls in all of Baldur’s Gate,” he scowls, “he would ask me if I wanted to dine with him and if I said no, he would flay me. If I said yes, he would sooo ‘generously’ give me a putrid, dead, rotting rat.

“You are the first thinking creature I have…”

  You aren’t really sure what you are supposed to say in this situation. You have never been a Vampire Spawn before and you certainly haven’t had to drink putrid blood. Rotten food and such, sure, but you have a feeling expressing empathy and your own experience would not be perceived well. 

“I am really sorry you had to do that.” 

“It doesn’t matter- I will never have to do that again.”

“True.”

 You both sit there quietly and just enjoy the silence- the sound of gentle waves flowing through the air is soothing and it’s calming. You enjoy his company- immensely. You will let yourself soak into it for a moment.

“I made a mistake,” Astarion breaks the silence, “going with Shadowheart the night of the party.”

 You are frozen and entirely unsure of how to respond to that. Does he mean he should have accepted your offer or does he just want to talk about it?

“Oh- I’m sorry it wasn’t enjoyable for you.”

  He stares down into the murky water and doesn’t say a word. The silence is heavy between both of you and you don’t want to ask the question that is weighing heavily on your mind because you honestly don’t think you want to know the answer. 

 It was probably just that the sex was bad or they didn’t end up having as much chemistry as they thought.

 “He said your name in the middle of the act itself!”

  You feel the tips of your ears heat up and your heart begins to hammer in your chest when Karlach’s words resurface.

 No- it was probably an accident.

 “When you asked me to walk on the beach that night,” he whispers, “what were your intentions?”

 You feel like a stone has dropped on your chest again with his words and you really have no desire to answer them, but you probably should.

“My intentions,” you say meekly, “were to take you on a date. Don’t worry- it won’t happen again.”

“You,” he sounds stunned, “you didn’t invite me to go to the beach with you for sex?”

  You hadn’t even thought about sex if you are being entirely honest. You have never been intimate with anyone before- some stupid chastity thing you had felt was important as a youth and now you are picky.

“Oh- no that was very far from my mind,” you say sheepishly, “I had other activities in mind, sex was not one of them.” 

“Like what?”

 You feel embarrassment course through your veins- you really shouldn’t be talking about this with him. Maybe they are all in on this big joke and when you share what you were going to do, they will all laugh around the campfire. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you say with a pinched smile, meeting his unreadable expression, “come on- we should head back to camp.”

 You don’t catch the frown on his face as you get up to walk away. 

    *************************************************

  You are going cross eyed as you try to read and continue to zone out.

 Why did Astarion ask you so much about your date plans three days ago? Why has he been unusually atune to your recent needs? Why does he consistently keep your favorite alcohol on hand lately? 

 A lot has changed within a few days. You still spend an exceptional amount of time with Karlach, but Astarion has begun finding times to get your undivided attention too. It is as if he is helping Shadowheart with developing her relationship with Karlach.

Maybe he feels guilty for things not working out between them and is “taking one for the team”. It is likely that- there really isn’t any other reason for him to be spending time with you and you refuse to believe he has just suddenly developed feelings for you.

Have more bizarre things happened in your life? Certainly- there is even a tadpole in your head to prove it. Astarion having feelings for you is never going to be one of those bizarre things and you would be a fool to suddenly have hope now- even with the Amulet of Restoration warming your skin. 

 KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

 You are jolted from your thoughts when an incessant knocking pulls you back to reality. You blink a couple times and rub your eyes- yawning while telling the other individual to come in. You are hoping it is Karlach- she had been spending time with Shadowheart and she seems to be quite smitten. It is not Shadowheart’s fault that she is beautiful and wonderful nor was it her fault that Astarion was more attracted to her- you just want Shadowheart to be happy.

“You sound awfully tired, Darling,” stunning ruby eyes are peering at you from the shadows of your tent, “I can leave you be for the night if you would prefer.”

 It would probably be for the best, but the ghost of tears on his cheeks makes you think otherwise. He needs someone right now and in spite of your efforts, you still adore him. There is a book in his slightly shaking hand.

“Oh, no! That’s alright- you are welcome to sit and stay here as long as you need.”

 He smiles softly- something you have never seen before- and he sits down next to you. Both of your knees touch as you get back to your book and he begins to read his own. You are struggling to read your page even more now. 

  His cologne consumes you inside of your tent and you feels like you could begin to cry- you want to cuddle into him. You want to melt into his arms and know what it means to fall in love, be in love, and be loved in return. However, he does not want you. He needs you and that is wildly different than wanting.

“What are you reading?”

  Your mind goes blank all of a sudden.

 What are you reading?

 You turn the book over in your hand to look at its cover- how are you going to explain not knowing the cover of your own book?

“Shar’s Teachings of Loss.”

Astarion looks bewildered by your choice of literature and you snort with a roll of your eyes.

“Shadowheart gave it to me and I told her I would give it a try.”

“Why?”

“Because it can help me understand her better,” you say with a shrug, “and maybe I can help her see that there is more to life than darkness and suffering.”

 The silence in the air is thick and unsettling- not in a dangerous way, but as if you opened a Pandora’s box for Astarion.

“Why do you care?” His voice sounds sharp and judgmental, “she would rather slit her own throat than bother to read Selune’s doctrine.”

 You sit and think for a moment- why do you care?

“I guess I realized that Shadowheart fell into Shar’s lap because she was a victim of circumstance,” you say slowly, “and I suppose if I had been in her shoes- I would have fallen into Shar’s Doctrine as well. I was just lucky enough to be found by Selune first.” 

 The silence continues and you try to go back to reading your book, but it’s no use. Your brain is entirely distracted by his presence in your atmosphere.

“Why did you begin worshipping Selune?”

 You hate to admit how giddy you feel that he is asking you questions about yourself. You are so used to being the one to keep conversations going between both of you that you honestly are still surprised when he makes an effort instead. 

“My parents had died in the mine we were being forced to live in by some Ravengers,” your voice is barely a whisper, “they became really sick and then they were just gone.

“I ended up getting sick a few weeks later. I was hallucinating and I was in so much pain. I knew I was dying and I was… I was okay with that. I wanted to be free and with my parents again.

“But then a girl who was only a little older than me began taking care of me and praying to Selune every night that I would live. 

“A week later, when I was on my deathbed, Paladins and Clerics of Selune freed us from the mine and I lived.”

“And you have worshipped Selune ever since?”

“Gods no,” you laugh, “when I turned 22, I left the church and I was very angry. I couldn’t understand why I lived and my parents didn’t. I couldn’t understand why we had ever been put in that mine in the first place when Selune had been capable of saving us. I joined a local thieves and assassins guild in Althkalta for about five years. 

“I was laying in bed one night with the leader of the guild- he had drugged me and… well I remember looking up and seeing the moon. Right as he was about to, uh, enter me?” You chuckle nervously, “he was burned alive by the moon. I had abandoned her, but she never abandoned me. I realized I had become someone I wasn’t.  I left and returned to the church after that. I have been there ever since.” 

“Darling,” Astarion gasps, “you have been holding out on me. I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of luxuries we could have stolen together by now.”

You smile awkwardly, “Oh I am not sure about that- I was quite miserable doing that, unfortunately. I am a bit lame.”

“Well- if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

 It’s back to being entirely silent and it remains that way long enough for you to finally finish three pages of the book. 

This is so depressing- the book. No wonder Shadowheart is so guarded and paranoid 80 percent of the time. You would be too if you were brought up to believe this nonsense.

“I can’t see you being a very good thief or assassin,” Astarion says awkwardly, “for what it’s worth.”

 You blink a couple times and look at him for a moment. You begin to laugh like a mad man- his expression is so serious and he certainly isn’t wrong. You were terrible at it and you still aren’t sure how you are going to bring back Nere’s head. 

“You would be correct! I was horrendous! Most of my targets remained alive- some I even warned beforehand because I didn’t feel like the contract was fair.”

 Astarion snorts, “what do you mean fair? I don’t think any part of that work revolves around being ‘fair’.” 

“It most certainly does not,” you sigh, “one time a guy tricked me into thinking he was a good person and then he went on to kill eight people. You could probably imagine how great that felt.”

 Much to your surprise, Astarion continues to ask you about your misadventures- both as a cleric and as a horrible excuse for a rogue. It leads the way for some of his own stories to bleed in- snatching a beautiful necklace from someone for Gold so he can buy the nicer wine one night and other shenanigans like that. 

 You tell him that you are rather terrified to have to decapitate Nere and it isn’t something you really want to do. Astarion offers to do it for you so that you can A. Not embarrass yourself and B. Not have to do something you really do not want to do. You would be remiss if you said it didn’t make your heart beat with joy. It is very white knightish of him and you are still a person who adores a good fairytale at the end of the day.

 At some point you fell asleep, but you barely remember telling Astarion he doesn’t have to go. However, waking up with his arms wrapped around you and his habitual breath fanning across your face is not a bad way to start your day. 

 His body is cool against yours, a welcome change in this excruciatingly warm environment. Your entire tent smells like him and you silently pray that it will remain this way. You honestly aren’t sure how you will feel when you walk into it later today and his cologne is gone. 

 And what if he regrets staying? What if he regrets cuddling with you or he felt like he had to? You really don’t want to regress in your friendship and go back to square one. He has been much kinder and agreeable lately. Astarion has really begun taking his mask off and you aren’t ready to see it go back on. 

“Stop overthinking, Darling” a grumble from near your ear makes you jolt ever so slightly, “your body is so tense I can practically hear your thoughts.” 

“I-sorry.”

 Astarion hums before asking, “unless you are tense because you want me to stop touching you- then you can say something, obviously.”

“That’s not it,” you say much faster than you wanted to, “this is… nice.”

 A pleased hum comes from your companion’s lips and you feel him begin to relax against you again. Your heartbeat eventually calms along with your thoughts and you allow yourself to indulge for however much longer he will allow you to. 

 It’s possible that he does have feelings for you- this is something you have refused to entertain up until now, but Astarion’s love languages would be buying something at full price, decapitating someone, and cuddling you. He doesn’t like to be touched, doing things for others, or paying for something when he can just as easily steal it. 

 He could also be afraid and feel like he needs to be close with someone for safety. That is a feeling you understand all too well with your own history. You suppose that is why you are struggling to believe that this is truly happening in the first place. 

 You know actions speak louder than words and his actions are telling the story of a scared individual who is fighting for his freedom. 

 Maybe Selune has answered his prayers- you can be here for his comfort and as his friend because that is what he needs from this journey. It’s why you met each other. One day you may have to watch him fall in love and you will also find someone else in spite of the pain, but that’s okay. 

  That’s what friends are for.

Tag list: @preciouslittlebhaalbae @xxgrimripp3rxx @alice4wonderland2812 @therobishow @m1ster1e @tragicdruid @katsutoria @aristenfromwarsaw @avabjorna36 @frankie-mercury

[artsycrapfromsai]

Random details on Amaryllis as my Tav and my BG3 playthrough with her:

🌸 she's romancing Astarion, and has no idea. She just thinks he's neat. He thinks she's an insane, weird, bleeding heart, yet somehow that's getting to him. (It was the embroidered art of him). I imagine he falls for her first, and he has no idea what to do about it bc none of his experience works for her. That said, she's going to eventually return his feelings and be a lot more awkward/shy when she does

🌸 she and Gale are nerd buddies who talk for hours and hours about nerdy magical shit, or history stuff, or gods and goddesses, whatever can be found in a book. Probably end up discussing how to send a bear flying at mach speed with stackings of haste and other magical items

🌸 Amy likes Shadowheart and wants to braid Shadowheart's favorite flowers into her hair and have a like a spa day together

🌸 Karlach and Lae'zel both, ah, very bluntly propositioned her and spooked Amy senseless (this is what happens when you have a demi-sexual n demi-romantic OC who gets aggressively flirted with)

🌸 Amy has decided to run, hide, and avoid them for a while bc of this. I imagine when Karlach specifically propositioned Amy at her bedroll, Amy was so startled she immediately started rolling away and right over the campfire, completely ignoring the fact that she was now on fire. (She just misty stepped away from Lae'zel)

🌸 (i imagine Amy ran to Astarion after this, wide eyed and frazzled and going "HELP" lol and after, they hung out in the woods doing embroidery to relax, while Astarion mused on how it's probably a good thing she didn't realize he tried propositioning her too, or else she might have been scared away. Also him musing on how she enjoys spending time with him enough that she'd rather just embroider stuff with him than have casual sex with people)

🌸 Despite that, she does genuinely like Lae'zel and Karlach a lot, and enjoys sparring with both, and making cute plushies with Karlach

🌸 Amy thinks Wyll is kinda silly and goofy, but earnest. She thinks his horns are funny and wants to make decorations for them

🌸 Halsin deeply reminds her of one of her dads (who, coincidentally, was also an 8ft tall, beefy, middle aged nature loving elf)

Speaking of-

One way I'm viewing the playthrough is that Amaryllis from her main campaign got bonked on the head into a coma and got isekai'd, with amnesia, into the game story

A lot of the characters are hilariously very similar to characters she knew in her OG campaign

I think those initial similarities are what drew Amy to everyone, and they're why she was so immediately comfortable around people that she should have probably been more wary of (Astarion), but as time passes that all fades as she gets to know everyone more personally

[witchysfics]

Hey! I loved your fic a lot, thank u for adding some fluff to his romance <3

You mentioned the requests are possible, what about Gale and Tav spending one of their nights in town? Maybe cafe, tavern or restaurant? Or just a slow walking promenade through the alleys? Or slow dancing somewhere near musicians? Whatever inspires you the most :D

Thanks!

author's note : Thank you so much for requesting!! I will be finishing up other requests and finishing my rules soon. Feel free to keep requesting for now! I love all your ideas!! this is not proofread and may have many mistakes. It was soooo late when I was writing this. enjoy <3

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The party had stopped at a quaint little town for the evening. You had practically begged to rest here. Why be outside in the cold dark night when you all could cozy up a fire and warm up to a little a drink. It would be great!

And you were right. The tiny town was filled with happy families, couples strolling along and a quaint tavern, perfect for your traveling party.

As the sun disappeared behind the horizon and night filled the air the town grew even more bustling.

Now the patrons of the tavern sat outside nursing their drinks and watching the locals dance to the music.

The party had settled on some outdoor seating as well, Karalach and Wyll loading up on ale, laughing boisterously. Astarion hung to the shadows, probably looking for a snack out of one of the clueless town's persons. And you sat with Shadowheart chatting like a couple of gossiping old ladies while Gale sat with you two, listening.

An upbeat song began, drawing your attention to the dancers.

"The aroma of the night is relaxing. It's a nice change of pace isn't it?" Gale asks, turning to you and Shadowheart.

You nod, smiling. You could definitely agree, after the countless battles and hours of exploring the party really needed this off time.

A sudden bump of your table had startled the three of you.

"Op! s-sorry!" A giddy, and possibly drunk, Karlach called as she dragged a nervous Wyll to the dance floor. "I told you Wyll, Blade of Frontiers. You will be bested by me! Karlach! ... uhh The Dancing Demon!"

You and Gale chuckled at their antics while Shadowheart shakes her head, amused.

"How long do you think before Wyll finds competing with Karlach is too hot to handle?" Gale asks jokingly.

You shake your head at that, "Haha, I thought you were a Wizard, not a comedic bard." You quip.

"I can be anything you'd like my dear. Maybe even a proficient dancer?" He look expectantly at you. His delivery is confident but the message in his eyes holds of other, more nervous intension.

You blush slightly at the implication of the statement. Opening your mouth, trying to formulate something to say but nothing comes out.

"I- uh."

"I can't remember the last time I danced." Shadowheart sighs, gazing at the dancers.

You turn to her and fan your heating face. Thankful that she unknowing shifted attention to herself you ask, "Really? Shar doesn't like dancing?" You joke, smiling a little at her.

"I wouldn't say that, its just... I can't remember the last time I danced, because of the...you know" She gestures to her head, "memory spell"

You make a silent 'oh' in realization.

"I'm not too sad about it though, I know I'll get my memories back. And in the mean time," She suddenly stands from her seat, standing in front of you. "I get to make new memories now. Starting with you!" She makes a quick motion for you hands and pulls you up to her.

You let out a surprised yelp as she laughs and she drags you over to dance. You look over your shoulder to Gale, who looks just as surprised but recovers and mouths for you to 'go on it's fine' with a smile. You give a apologetic smile in return.

Shadowheart, still holding your hands, spins the two of you. Dancing in a way that is reminiscent of young school girls. Twirling, spinning, jumping and laughing all the while.

You spot Karlach an Wyll who both shoot you friendly smiles. Wyll's a little more crooked and weary while Karlach gives you two red thumbs up.

Eventually you have traded dance partners as more people join the group. You switch from Shadowheart, to Karlach to Wyll. Even Halsin joins in during a slower song. You danced with strangers too, some old some young. Some flirted with you and some you made a friendly banter. You had noticed Gal tried to slip in a few times only for you or him to snatched up by a different partner. Both of you expressing contrite smiles to one another.

By the time you got back to your table, and Gale the whole town might as well have turned in for the night. The music was slower and the dance floor was lighted by dancing fireflies and the occasional ground lantern.

"Well, it's been a while." He says looking over to you. "You seem very popular."

You sigh falling into the chair, exhasuted. "I'm so sorry!" You exclaim, slumping to your knees and placing one of your hands on his own that sat on his high. "I had meant to answer you question ages ago, but well..." You chuckle, "I just I was preoccupied."

"Oh no my dear, I completely understand. Of course everyone would want to dance with a beautiful individual like yourself."

His voice is smooth, like a stream gliding over flat stones. His face is soft though his tone is flirty.

You gulp and roll your bottom lip between your teeth. You've danced with strangers all night, how could he make just taking to him overwhelming?

"Is something the matter? You seem, stunned." He asks a smug smile spreading across his lips

"Oh! No no. Not at all." You clear your throat. "Sorry I just...." You trail off, unsure of what to say.

"You know," he begins, taking your hand into his. "You never did answer my question. Would you like me to be your dancer?"

You nod breathlessly and he smiles down at you. His eyes filled with an indescribable softness.

He pulls you gentally to the dance floor and a song kicks up as you wrap your arms around his neck and he placed his hands on your waist. His chest presses to yours and the warmth from the contact warms the cool air around you. His shoulder is soft as you place your head upon it. Drinking in the smell of his, now clean, robes. They have a hint of petrichor and vanilla, as well as a slight lingering smell of ale. But that is to be expected near a tavern.

The playing song is cheerful, but romantic as it belows out it's slow rhythmed melody.

Gale's eyes haven't left you once since you'd begun dancing. Taking in the view of your eyes as they sparked from the light of firefies.

It's only when he begins speaking are you snapped out of your trance.

"You know, I've been trying to get to dance with you all night. I was almost convinced I wasn't going to just because I couldn't seem to even catch a small moment with you." He chuckles. "But I'm glad I waited. Dancing with you then would have been a privilege but I would have had lost you as soon as I got you. But this, dancing with you, watching your darling face lit up by the stars? This, this is a dream."

Footnote : Thank you so much for requesting! I hope this is sufficient to what you had in mind, this was really fun to write. Had me kicking my own feet. Sorry it took me so long to get to, midterms have been biting my ass. Love ya! - Witchy

[hawkinshorror94]

I’m feeling messy and angsty so how about the companions reactions to confessing to Tav only for them to tell the companion that they feel like with everything going on that they aren’t in the right place for a relationship. They say this only to shack up with a different party member not real long after this. Just an idea. Take care.

We love messy around here. Lmao. Barely proofread. I did leave Halsin out of this because we dont even really get to romance him till the third act.

How could they worry about a relationship when they were trying to find a cure and now they were hunting down the cultists? It was all too much and they were worried about romance? But maybe it just wasn’t with the right companion:

Gale

How could he ever think he’d be good enough for them? They were kind, smart and- Gale would never be enough for anyone.

His chest burned as he watched them press their lips to Astarion. The vampire looked smug, like he didn't even care for the soft affection he was being given.

How could they pick him? Gale turned away as her eyes drifted over to him, pretending to be studying a spot in the dirt.

Wyll

All he had known was cruelty, why did he ever think this would be different? Watching as the wizard held them close, his fingers carding through their soft locks. That should be him, holding them feeling their soft body against his. He had wanted to dance with them, give them the world, but Gale had been better than him. Maybe he was quicker with his words, he didn't have a pair of nasty black horns sprouting from his skull that was sure.

He scoffed and stood from the fire as their eyes watched him walk away, a smile playing at the edge of his lips.

Minthara

The drow liked Wyll, but she didn't like the fact that he was touching her like that. Minthara had been scorned, discarded by the object of her affections and now Wyll had them. It should have been Minthara looking at them like that, like they put the stars in the sky or the monsters in the Underdark.

Would anyone notice a bottle of missed poison, it would just take a bit in his morning coffee? Surely no one would miss the Warlock that much.

Lae’zel

Every blow to the training dummy felt personal. Before too long all Lae’zel could see was the lilac skin of Minthara and theirs pressed so close together. Like two snakes twisting about, Lae’zel felt anger, disgust and most of all hurt. But everytime she felt that burning sadness she took it out on the dummy. Her muscles would ache, but maybe the ache in her muscles would be better than the ache in her.

Astarion

This was his punishment, it had to be. For all those souls he had lured into Cazador’s dungeon. A bubble of maniacal laughter left his throat as he watched them kiss Shadowheart. He felt like he was being burned alive and all he could do was watch as Shadowheart smirked at them and led them into her tent. Maybe an entire bottle of wine would make him feel better, he thought as he strode off to the camp rations, anything to deafen the giggle that erupted from Shadowheart’s tent.

Shadowheart

Shadowheart watched as they hung around Karlach. Karlach’s tail wrapped around their strong calf as you whispered sweet nothings into the tieflings ear.

Briefly she wondered if she could potentially be the third between them and though it burned her cheeks it also lit a fire in her loins.

Karlach

How was she supposed to watch this? She had longed for someone so long and she thought that someone was you, but now you were wrapped up with Rolan. His tail wrapped around waist as he whispered lewd comments in your ear. Karlach burned hot and she tried to cool herself down, bouncing on her toes, shaking out her fingers. But how was she to calm down when it was right in front of her, she needed to go for a run.

[lendeah]

The currents of destiny

Chapter 5 : End of beggining.

Summary: The phrase "end of beginning" encapsulates significant milestones which signify the conclusion of an introductory phase. It signals the triumph over initial challenges and uncertainties, ushering in a transition towards more substantial or crucial stages. As they navigate through these turning points, they confront new sets of challenges and opportunities, propelling them into uncharted territory filled with promise and uncertainty alike. Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader/Tav Word Count: 4.4k Tags: Heavy Angst, Psychological Trauma, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Psychological Torture (kind of), Emotional Manipulation, Verbal Abuse, but just chapter 2, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending.

a/n: Ahhh finally the last part is out! I can't believe it. Thank you all so much for your support on this small series! Hope you enjoy the final chapter as well :)

<- Previous chapter

[AO3 Link]

The night had stretched on and he still hadn't returned. She could feel the dried trails of tears on her cheeks, her face stiff with fear. Shadowheart lay curled up beside her on the bed, her presence a small comfort against the overwhelming sense of dread that consumed her body since last evening. His words rang in her head like a twisted mantra: I hope you die screaming, I hope you die screaming...

And the worst part was, from the look of his eyes, she knew he had meant every word.

As the first rays of morning stretched across the Elfsong room and Astarion was still nowhere in sight, she knew she couldn't stay there any longer. What if something terrible had happened to him? He had no weapons, no clothes, no coin… The thought twisted her stomach into knots. She needed to talk to him. Needed to explain everything to him.

The weight of her decision hung heavy on her heart as she slowly rose from the comfort of her bed. She took extra care not to disturb Shadowheart, who was still fast asleep beside her. The rest of their companions also seemed to be in deep slumber, their soft snores filling the room with a peaceful rhythm. With careful movements, she began to pack her belongings into a small bag, trying not to make any noise. The only sounds were the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional creaking of floorboards under her feet. Once she had everything she needed, she tiptoed towards the door and gently closed it behind her, leaving the others undisturbed in their dreams.

Once she was out of earshot, she released a heavy breath.

“Tav?” Wyll's voice broke the silence of the hallway, causing Tav to jump in surprise.

She turned around to find him standing there, her hand still gripping the doorknob.

"Wyll? What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to sound calm and collected even though her heart was still racing.

Wyll's expression was a mix of confusion and concern as he looked at her. "I could ask you the same thing," he replied.

Tav's mind raced as she tried to come up with an excuse. "I...I needed some fresh air," she said lamely, gesturing towards the door.

"At this time?" Wyll raised an eyebrow skeptically. His gaze was soft as he observed her. “Isn’t it a bit early to leave?”

Tav's heart sank as she looked into Wyll's concerned eyes. She considered telling him the truth; if any of her companions would understand her motives, it would definitely be heroic, gentle and compassionate Wyll.

“I am going to look for Astarion.”

Wyll's smile wavered and the playful light faded from his eyes.

"I had a feeling you would," He sighed, setting aside his wine cup and getting closer to her. "Yesterday was quite something. You must be feeling shaken."

Tav felt the familiar sting of tears in her eyes. Gods, why was she like this? She turned away from Wyll, unable to meet his understanding gaze.

"I failed him," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

Wyll's hand left her shoulder and gently turned her towards him so that their eyes met. "No, Tav. You did what was right. A pact with the devil is never a good idea, trust me on that."

"But I took away the only chance at freedom," she sobbed.

Wyll's face softened as he gently brushed away Tav's tears with his thumb. "You did what you had to do to protect him," he reassured, his tone firm. "We both know that the ritual would have trapped him just as much as it would have freed him." He smiled slightly. "And when we find Astarion, he'll understand too."

Tav's heart ached at Wyll's words. She knew he was right, but the guilt and regret were still eating away at her.

Tav looked down at her hands, "I'm sorry, Wyll. I didn't want to drag any of you into this mess, especially not anymore than I already have."

Wyll shook his head gently, "No need for apologies, Tav. We all have our own battles to fight. And as your friend, all I want is for you to find happiness."

She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, meeting Wyll's understanding gaze with a small smile. "It's just hard not to worry about Astarion."

Wyll let out a soft chuckle, his eyes sparkling in the early morning light. "Astarion may be many things, my friend, but helpless isn't one of them." Wyll sighed heavily, scratching at his stubbled chin as he looked toward the closed door of the inn. "Our Astarion... He's not one to wear his heart on his sleeve, I'll give you that. But he's... changed since meeting you."

Tav blinked in surprise at his words. “Has he?”

Wyll chuckled softly, running a hand lightly through his hair as he leaned against the wall. "Well for starters," he said, "he's actually stopped to listen to someone else for once in his life. You have shown him another side of life he hadn’t seen in centuries. Kindness. Love. And that is something this dreamer's heart can appreciate."

The thought of Astarion finding some solace and happiness in their brief time together brought a small smile to her face.

"He deserves it," she said softly, her eyes on the closed door once again. "He's been through so much. I can't even begin to understand the pain he carries."

Wyll nodded in understanding. "None of us can," he said. "But I believe you have given him a glimmer of hope that maybe things can be different."

Tav nodded. She was feeling a determination unlike any she had known before. Her heart was set on finding Astarion and mending their relationship, no matter what it took. She knew they would.

“Thank you, Wyll,” she said gratefully, her strong hands gripping his in a firm shake. “I needed to hear that.”

He chuckled lightly, patting her hand before stepping back. “From one dreamer to another,” he said with a wink. “We've got to stick together.”

Tav gave Wyll a final nod before setting off, leaving her weapons and armor behind at the room. The morning air was cool against her skin as she stepped out of the Elfsong Tavern. She stood on the cobbled street, her mind racing as she tried to recall any place Astarion may have mentioned frequenting in Baldur's Gate besides the numerous taverns, but her efforts were fruitless. The faint smell of wet stone and brewing coffee filled her senses as she scanned the bustling streets for any sign of her elusive companion. Where in the hells could he have gone?

As she walked numerous streets, she felt the city stirring around her. Baldur's Gate was coming alive with the break of day; vendors were setting up their stalls, peddling goods from exotic spices to finely crafted weapons. The air buzzed with energy, and under different circumstances, she would have loved to explore this side of the city.

But not today. Today, her mind was too consumed with worry for Astarion.

For what seemed like hours, she combed the grim streets of Baldur's Gate, desperately seeking any trace of her missing companion. Now, she found herself in a narrow passage near the bustling docks, an eerie chill creeping down her spine. Before she could even process where she was, a sound behind her caused her to whirl around, heart pounding against her rib cage. The alley was cloaked in darkness, the tall buildings looming over her like foreboding sentinels. As she strained her eyes to make out any shapes in the shadows, a massive figure began to approach with menacing steps.

"That is a nice necklace, lady," a gruff voice said. "Hand it over and no one gets hurt."

She tore her gaze from the figure to look down at the pendant around her neck - an intricately-designed piece of jewelry that was a gift from Arabella’s deceased parents. There was no way in hell she was going to part with it. Her first instinct was to grab for her longsword, but her hand came up empty. She cursed herself for leaving all of her weapons behind at Elfsong.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," she said evenly, trying not to betray the fear that was gnawing at her insides.

A menacing laugh echoed through the brick walls, sending shivers down her spine. "Then I guess we'll have to do this the hard way."

Before she could react, he lunged at her. Instinctively she sidestepped his attack, but without a weapon in hand, she knew this wasn't a fight she could easily win. Not with a man his size. As he pushed further into her space, unveiling a wicked dagger from beneath his cloak, a fleeting thought crossed her mind: would this be how it ended? In a dirty allyway of all places? Would all of their battles and sacrifices be for nothing?

Before Tav could retaliate, another figure appeared beside them.

“How awfully typical of you to walk alone into a deserted alley and end up getting robbed.”

The new voice was smooth, with a lilt of amusement woven in with scorn. Tav’s heart pounded in her chest as she recognized the speaker.

Her assailant paused, looking warily over his shoulder at Astarion, who leaned lazily against the brick wall, the early morning light casting an ethereal glow around him. Astarion's crimson eyes glinted dangerously as he looked from Tav to the man.

The thug sneered at Astarion. "And who might you be?"

Astarion shrugged nonchalantly, pushing off from the wall and stepping into the dim light. "Oh, nobody special." He cracked his knuckles, the slightest smirk playing on his lips. "Tell me, is mugging the first thing they teach in thug school? Or are you just unusually incompetent?"

The man growled, clearly not liking being mocked. He made a move towards Astarion, whose smirk widened into a grin that showcased his razor-sharp fangs. It happened so fast Tav hardly had time to react; one moment, the thug was standing upright, snarling and waving his knife; then next, he was sprawled on the ground unconscious.

“Thank you for the gift, how very kind of you.” the vampire added, taking the dagger that was now on the floor. She would have rolled your eyes at his theatrics, but her heart was beating so hard at the sight of him, alive and unharmed, that all she could do was stare.

“Astarion…” her voice wavered, “You’re okay.” It wasn’t a question but a mere statement of relief.

“This is hardly the hero's welcome I was expecting,” he quipped, tucking the stolen dagger into his belt. He then turned to regard her, his smirk fading into something softer. “But I suppose it will have to do.”

Tav moved closer to him, her gaze scanning his body for any injuries. He was still shirtless and caked in blood, but she breathed a sigh of relief upon realizing that it was mostly from Cazador and not him.

“I was worried about you, I-” she choked on a sob, her eyes filling with tears. Her heart raced and her thoughts whirled as she tried to express all the worry and fear she had been holding in, all the pain and anger, but the word didn’t seem to come to her mouth. But she didn’t have a chance to speak as suddenly, he was there. His arms wrapped around her body in an embrace she had never felt before. It was as if he was holding on for dear life, as if he couldn't bear the thought of letting her go.

Tav let herself relax into his arms, her own wrapping around his waist as she buried her face in his chest. The smell of him, the soft coldness of his skin, everything was so familiar to her. They stood there, holding each other in the dimly lit alleyway, and Tav couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief and comfort. She had been so scared for Astarion's safety, and now that he was back in her arms, all she wanted to do was hold onto him forever.

Astarion rested his chin on top of her head and let out a contented sigh.

"I'm sorry," Astarion murmured into her hair, his voice wavering too. "I have treated you terribly," Astarion pulled back, his hands cupping her face as he looked into her eyes. "I never should have left you in the first place," he said, his voice filled with regret.

Tav's heart ached at the sincerity in his words. She wanted to be angry at him, to yell and scream and make him feel guilty for leaving her behind. She had thought of the many things she would say to him when she encountered him again: I hate you, I’m sorry, I love you…

But this, she didn’t expect this. The vulnerability he was showing. The broken look in his face. As she looked into his eyes, all she could see was the pain and regret that mirrored her own.

"I- I don't know what to say," Tav stammered out, her voice trembling.

Astarion's hands dropped from her face and he took a step back, giving her space. "You don't have to say anything," he said softly. "I just...I needed to see you again. To make things right for once."

She stood silently, trying to process her thoughts. Before she could say anything else, though, Astarion continued.

“I didn’t mean anything I said in Cazador’s place. I wasn’t myself. I didn’t see the full picture.” His eyes were glazed, as if reliving a memory. “If I had carried on with the ritual, I would- I would have done unspeakable things to you. I would have become like him.” He took a shaky breath. “And you knew. Because you saw the potential in me. You saw someone else I could be. Someone… better.”

Tav swallowed, her eyes welling up again. "Astarion... "

“Wait,” he cut her off, raising a hand. “I need to say this.” He looked down, as if trying to compose his thoughts, ”I'm… not entirely sure what came over me back there,” he confessed, his gaze fixed on the ground. “But I do know one thing for certain...I don't want to be that person. Not again.” He looked up at her then, a flicker of hope in his dark eyes. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all” he paused awkwardly before continuing, “that is, if you want to take me back, of course.”

She stared at him, his confession echoing in her ears. She searched his face for any hint of deceit but found none. He was looking at her with such intensity, such sincerity that it took her breath away. She couldn't believe it. After everything that had happened... he was standing in front of her, asking for a second chance. Telling her he loved her. She knew there were countless things they needed to discuss, so much to resolve between them. But it could wait, they would have plenty of time for that later.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves, before finally meeting his gaze. “Astarion,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “Of course I forgive you. You know I love you. And I would do anything for you.” Tav's words hung in the air for a moment before Astarion's face broke into a wide grin. He was about to speak but she covered his mouth. ”But. If you ever say something like that again, if you ever leave me like that again, this… us. Will be over. For good.”

Tav could see the excitement in Astarion's eyes despite her words.

“Oh darling, I would never,” he said earnestly. “I promise. From now on, I will only be good Astarion. Well, as good as I can be, of course. Selfless as I am, even I have my limits.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Tav's lips as she looked at the vampire. Despite everything, she couldn't help but feel a sense of hope and happiness at his words.

"I believe you," she said softly, reaching out to gently place a hand on his cheek. "And I forgive you."

Astarion's face lit up with relief and gratitude, and he leaned into her touch. "Thank you, my love," he breathed, his voice filled with emotion. They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, until a low groan caught their attention. They looked at the robber, stirring on the ground.

“Well, I believe that’s our cue. We should go back with the rest of our esteemed companions. I’m sure they will be so very excited to see me.”

Tav chuckled as she followed Astarion out of the alleyway and back towards the Elfsong, their hearts still racing from the events that had just transpired. As they turned onto the busy street where the tavern was located, Astarion suddenly stopped, causing Tav to nearly bump into him.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, her brows furrowed in concern.

Astarion didn't answer, instead he turned her towards him and pulled her into a soft kiss. Tav's eyes widened in surprise before she melted into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. It felt like an eternity before they finally pulled apart, both of them breathing heavily.

Astarion gazed down at her with a soft smile. “I just couldn't resist,” he said, his voice husky. “You look stunning in my shirt.”

————————————————————————————————

From that point on, both of them worked on rebuilding their relationship. Astarion stayed true to his promise of being a better person, and Tav could see the effort he was putting in every day. She was grateful for this new side of him, one that she had never seen before, but a part of her couldn't help but wonder what had sparked such a sudden transformation, almost overnight. Despite her lingering curiosity, Tav made the conscious decision to let go of her concerns about Astarion's change. There were more pressing matters at hand to focus on anyway.

After successfully defeating the Elder Brain and putting an end to the reign of the Absolute, she thought their journey would finally come to an end and they could finally rest. However, they soon found themselves faced with the daunting task of rebuilding Baldur's Gate, which had been left in shambles after the final battle. Astarion didn't seem bothered by not being able to walk in the sun anymore, or the fact that they couldn’t start searching for a cure right away. He assured her that they would find a way eventually, much to her surprise. It was a far cry from the hopeless vampire she had first met.

Time went by so fast after that, as Tav and her companions were hailed as heroes, and they were given every luxury that came with their new fame. They all had a mansion at their disposal, but Tav and Astarion chose to settle into a small house near the sea. It was a cozy home, with a breathtaking view of the ocean from their porch.

The vampire seemed content with their new life, away from all the chaos and the threat of an imminent death. He spent his days reading books from Tav's collection or sketching in his journal. But it was during their nightly walks on the beach when Tav saw him truly come alive. Underneath the starry sky, Astarion would take her hand and dance with her on the sand, spinning her around until they were both breathless with laughter. They talked about everything and anything - their pasts, hopes for the future, silly jokes and stories from their adventure. And she couldn't help but fall more in love with him every day.

Six months after the final battle, Withers paid them a visit and extended an invitation for a reunion with their friends, which they eagerly accepted. Tav was filled with excitement at the thought of seeing her friends again. She had missed them dearly, despite the frequent letters they exchanged. She couldn't wait to catch up on all that had happened in each other's lives since they parted ways.

The night of the reunion arrived, and she couldn't contain her happiness at seeing everyone gathered once again. Lae'zel, Gale, Shadowheart, Wyll and even Scratch were there, each of them looking just as pleased to see them as they were. The air was alive with chatter and laughter, and lively tunes being played by talented bards had everyone singing along and indulging in endless drinks and merriment. As the night wore on and the drinks kept flowing, Tav found herself fully immersed in the moment, swaying to the music with her companions and sharing hearty laughs. She was completely swept away by the euphoria of it all that she almost didn't notice Astarion making his way towards her with a dazed expression on his face. He pulled her into his arms, and for a moment, they simply danced in silence, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. Then he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I can't wait for you to meet her," before pulling back with a mischievous smile.

She chuckled at his cryptic words, raising an eyebrow. "Meet who?" she asked, her voice slightly slurred from the ale.

"Our daughter," he whispered, a note of awe in his voice.

Tav's heart jolted at his words as a wave of confusion washed over her. “What are you talking about, Star? We don't...”

“That night after Cazador, a man named G’axir showed me the… power of the stars, or whatever. He was ancient and spoke in riddles, just like ol' Withers here!" He snickered, swaying slightly.

Tav furrowed her brow in drunken confusion. "And what does that have to do with us having a daughter?"

But his mind was elsewhere. “He showed me the future. Can you believe it? Actually, he showed me three futures. But two of them were…” he shuddered, “ugh, nevermind.”

“Astarion, I think you drank way too much boar bloo-”

“But the good future! Aha! That is the one we are heading towards. And in that future, we have a child, Tav. A beautiful little girl. She has your eyes... and my devilish charm, of course.”

Tav couldn't help but laugh at him. “You're kidding, right? You expect me to believe all this? That you went into the future? And that we have a...a daughter? From that future?”

Astarion looked a bit hurt by her laughter, but he quickly replaced it with his usual smirk. "I knew you'd find it hard to believe, that’s why I didn’t tell you before. But it’s true! I swear on… whatever god suits you."

She shook her head at him, her laughter dying down to a soft chuckle. “And you mean to tell me that is why you had changed your mind when I found you that morning?”

Astarion paused, his face softening as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. “Yes,” he admitted softly. “Seeing her... Seeing you and her together in that future made me realize I wanted more than power. That I wanted a life. But to be honest, my memory is a bit hazy at the moment, so I could be wrong...”

Tav rolled her eyes, but her laughter had died out completely now. Despite the ale coursing through her veins, she could feel the sincerity of his words. "Are you serious, Star?"

He nodded, taking both her hands in his now. “I've never been more serious about anything in my life.”

“A child…” she mused.

“Yes.” Astarion's eyes shone intensely as he gazed at her.

Tav was silent for a moment, her mind buzzing with the implications of what Astarion had just told her. She was way too drunk for this, but she couldn't deny that a small part of her wanted to believe him. She reached out and placed her hand on Astarion’s cheek, her eyes searching his.

“If you are jesting me because I’m drunk I swear-”

A mischievous glint danced in Astarion's eyes as he interrupted her with a sly smile. His hand caressed hers, pulling it closer to his cheek. “Don't you trust me, my love?” He whispered, his gaze never leaving hers. “I assure you, seeing our daughter in my visions was beyond anything I could imagine.”

Tav looked into his eyes - those beautiful hellish orbs that she had fallen for - and saw a sincerity that made her believe him, despite the absurdity of it all. She felt an unusual heat rising in her cheeks as she thought about their hypothetical child - their little girl.

“You’re serious about this...” She whispered, her voice barely audible over the clamour around them.

He chuckled and continued, "But that's not the end of it! I was a tailor in the city, catering to the annoying noblewomen. And you, my dear, were a teacher to sad orphan kids."

Tav couldn't help the smile that spread across her face at Astarion's words. She could almost see it - a quaint little shop filled with beautiful fabrics and clothes designed by Astarion himself, and her teaching young minds in an orphanage. She had never pictured herself as a teacher, but as she thought about it…

"That sounds lovely," she said softly, her hand still resting against his cheek.

Astarion's lips curled into a small smile at her response. “I thought so too.”

Tav's heart fluttered at the look on Astarion's face. She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, savoring the lingering taste of blood. Wether he was being honest or not, it was a beautiful picture of their future together, and she appreciated it endlessly.

“Hey, lovebirds, I didn’t come all the way from fucking Avernus just so I have to watch you two snoggling like teenagers!”

Tav and Astarion were brought back to the present by Karlach's sudden appearance. The tiefling was grinning widely as she stood between them, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Oh, dear Karlach, don't be envious of our endless affection," Astarion playfully retorted.

Karlach chuckled and nudged him with her elbow with enough force to send him tumble. "Hey, vamp boy! Don't be such a grump. We're celebrating, remember?"

Tav couldn't help but laugh at the banter between them.

"Come on, let's get back to the party," Karlach said, gesturing towards the bonfire where their other companions were now standing on tables, singing obnoxiously off-key songs. Tav and Astarion followed her, their fingers still intertwined.

She gazed up at the twinkling stars, which seemed to sparkle in response. And in that moment, she was certain; visions or not, their future would shine brighter than any star could ever foretell.

Tag list: @tinystarfishgalaxy, @imaginarypetlizard, @nanamisfriedstick, @stuckinaoaktree, @madislayyy, @cosywinterevenings, @fandom-garbage, @generalstephkenobi @ravenswritingroom

[moonselune]

hey hey!! Was wondering if you’d be okay writing a drabble of Shadowheart x Lae’zel and their little hatchling Xan? Like it’s the ass crack of dawn and we hear noises in their little cottage, and both Shad and Lae find li’l Xan (who is, what? Five years old maybe at this point) try to haul Lae’zel’s big ass silver sword and Shadowheart’s big ass shield and armor that is literally draping on him, attempting to leave early to not get in trouble and show to kids at school so they will like him cause they make fun of him :(. Maybe a little heart to heart from Lae’zel or Shadowheart?

Why did I get more emotional writing this than I did for the dead Tav request oof-

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowzel + Lil baby Xan (He's 5) | Am I strong enough yet?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The first light of dawn filtered through the curtains of the cozy cottage, casting a soft glow over the room. Shadowheart and Lae'zel stirred from their slumber, the quiet stillness of the morning broken by a series of clumsy thuds and muffled grunts. They exchanged a look, curiosity and concern mingling in their eyes.

Silently, they slipped out of bed, moving towards the source of the noise. As they approached the living room, the sight that greeted them made their hearts ache and swell with love all at once. Their five-year-old little hatchling, Xan, was struggling to drag Lae'zel's massive silver sword across the floor. Shadowheart's oversized shield was strapped to his back, and he was attempting to don her armor, which hung off his small frame like an ill-fitting costume.

Xan's face was scrunched in determination, his little arms straining with the effort. He grumbled to himself as he tried to lift the sword, which was clearly too heavy for him. Shadowheart's heart twisted at the sight, a mixture of pride and sadness welling up within her.

"Xan," Shadowheart called softly, stepping into the room.

Xan froze, his eyes wide with a mix of guilt and fear. He dropped the sword with a loud clang and turned to face his mothers. "M-morning, Mama, Ma," he stammered, trying to look innocent despite the evidence around him.

Lae'zel crossed her arms, her gaze stern but not unkind. "What are you doing, little one?" she asked, her voice carrying that familiar edge of authority.

Xan shuffled his feet, his head hanging low. "I… I wanted to take your sword and armor to school," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "The kids… they make fun of me. They say I'm not strong or brave like you. I thought… if I showed them your things, they might like me."

Shadowheart's expression softened, and she knelt down to be at eye level with her son. "Xan, you don't need to carry our weapons to prove your worth," she said gently, reaching out to cup his cheek. "You are already strong and brave in your own way."

Lae'zel stepped closer, her stern demeanor melting as she looked at her son. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm yet comforting. "Strength is not just in the weapons we wield, but in the heart and mind," she said. "True strength comes from within, and you have that, Xan. Never doubt it."

Xan's eyes welled up with tears, and he sniffled. "But… they make fun of me," he repeated, his voice trembling. "They say I'm weak."

Shadowheart pulled him into a tight embrace, her heart aching at his words. "People can be cruel, my sweet," she said softly. "But their words do not define you. You are loved, and you are valued, no matter what anyone says."

Lae'zel crouched down beside them, her eyes fierce with a protective light. "If anyone dares to mock you again, you stand tall and proud," she instructed. "Show them that you are a warrior's child. And if they do not see your worth, they are not worth your time."

Xan looked up at his mothers, his tears drying as he absorbed their words. "But… what if they keep making fun of me?" he asked hesitantly.

Lae'zel exchanged a glance with Shadowheart, a silent understanding passing between them. "Then we will teach you to defend yourself," Lae'zel said firmly. "Not with our weapons, but with your own strength and courage."

Shadowheart nodded in agreement. "And we will always be here for you, no matter what," she added. "You are never alone, Xan."

Xan's expression brightened, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you, Mama. Thank you, Ma," he said, hugging them both tightly.

Shadowheart kissed his forehead, her heart swelling with love. "Now, let's put these back where they belong," she suggested gently, gesturing to the discarded sword and armor.

Lae'zel ruffled Xan's hair affectionately. "And perhaps we can find a smaller sword for you to practice with," she added, a hint of pride in her voice.

Xan's eyes lit up with excitement. "Really?" he exclaimed.

"Really," Lae'zel confirmed with a nod. "But remember, true strength comes from within. Always."

As they guided Xan back to their room, the warmth of their love and support surrounded him, a comforting shield against the world's cruelty. Together, they faced the new day, their bond stronger than ever.

BONUS:

"Shadowheart, calm yourself," Lae'zel said, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. "Becoming enraged will not solve anything."

Shadowheart turned to her, her eyes blazing with determination. "But those children, they deserve to learn respect," she insisted, her fists clenched at her sides.

Lae'zel sighed softly, stepping closer to her beloved. "And they will, in time," she replied calmly. "But teaching them a lesson with violence is not the answer."

Shadowheart looked at her incredulously. "How can you be so calm about this?" she asked, frustration evident in her voice. "They insult our son, belittle him..."

Lae'zel placed a comforting hand on Shadowheart's arm, her touch gentle yet firm. "I may or may not have slipped a githyanki dagger into Xan's school bag," she confessed with a sly grin.

Shadowheart blinked in surprise, her anger momentarily forgotten as she processed Lae'zel's words. "You what?" she asked, a mixture of shock and amusement crossing her features.

Lae'zel shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a deterrent," she explained casually. "No harm will come to Xan, but those who seek to harm him might think twice."

Shadowheart couldn't help but chuckle at Lae'zel's protective instincts, despite her earlier reservations. "You are impossible," she murmured affectionately, pulling Lae'zel into a warm embrace.

"And yet, you love me," Lae'zel replied with a smirk, leaning down to kiss Shadowheart tenderly.

Shadowheart sighed contentedly against her lips, the tension of the morning slowly dissipating. "I do," she whispered, her voice filled with love and gratitude.

[mistystepmoonbeam]

Reborn into BG3 - Chapter 4

You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.

Chapter 4: You meet Wyll and return to camp, weary from all your recent travels.

Word count: 1.4K

You couldn’t get away from Auntie Ethel fast enough.  You scurry as quickly as possible around the bend by the storage shack and sit on a crate to catch your breath.  It feels like you’re breathing for the first time, away from all the characters and shouting and mayhem.  You hold the staff in front of you and rest your forehead against the smooth wood, eyes closed.  The coolness of the shade and the staff do little to cure the pounding headache that’s started up.  

The sound of the children slashing at training dummies, the gentle calls of the birds, and the voices of those around you fade to nothing.  There’s a small wriggle behind your eye when a vision of Karlach comes to you and disappears just as fast.

“It seems you and I have the same affliction,” a man says.  You open your eyes to find Wyll at your side.  He takes a seat on the crate next to yours, leaning back on his palms as he speaks.  “I wanted to commend you for your actions with the prisoner but it seems we have more dire circumstances to discuss.”

“Dire is a strong word,” you reply.  “But wait, you saw what I did?”

“Witnessed the aftermath.”  He chuckles.  “Your friend cares for you deeply to run that fast to Nettie.  Your other, paler friend filled me in on the rest; didn’t seem as impressed as I was at your valour.”

“No, he was not.”  You give a small laugh.  “I don’t even know why I did it.”

“Mercy is a rare thing these days, best to appreciate it when you can.”

“Even if it’s stupid?”

“Mercy is never stupid.  Misguided at times, perhaps, but never stupid.”

Your chest warms at his words. When you finally look at Wyll you find him observing the head of your staff.  Hoping to distract him you question who it was you saw in the vision. 

“Karlach,” he answers.  “A servant of Zariel and a devil from Avernus.  I’ve been tasked with tracking her down.”

“Sounds difficult.”

“It’s not for everyone.”

Beyond Wyll you spot Tav coming up from the bottom of the grove.  His head swivels left and right in search of something until his eyes land on you.  He jogs over, followed by Astarion and Lae’zel.

It’s strange to watch the introductions happen in person.  When the narrator states what’s happening it makes sense, but seeing them squirm and wince as the tadpoles connect without context?  Yeah, that looks very weird.  And the silence feels a lot longer.

Wyll goes into more detail about Karlach on Tav’s insistence, and when the tiefling offers to help, Wyll hesitates.  “Perhaps we should stop by your camp first.  Hunting a devil is dangerous work and it would be best to be prepared.”

When all eyes fall to you you understand the meaning behind his words.  No injured people allowed.  Or perhaps it’s no merciful people allowed.  Either way you’re getting booted to the camp with Gale and Shadowheart.

You choose not to question the elaborate setup of the camp.  Each party member has their own little tent, even you.  When you had asked about it Gale said anything was possible with a helping hand and conjured a blue Mage Hand as if that answered everything.  You let it answer everything.

Tav, Wyll, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart are the ones to head out and track down Karlach.  As much as you want to join your body is feeling the full force of events—the ship crashing, multiple hits to the head, an arrow through the hand (which was also commended by Gale), and having the hell scared out of you by a hag.  It added up to one weary body. 

Your own tent is sparse, a few herbs hung on the outside by Shadowheart are the only decoration, and it is more because that is the only available space to store them.  The blue fabric is draped over sturdy branches, with a bedroll and pillow on top of a matching blue cloth that covers the ground.  All in all, it wasn’t terrible.  

You drop both your bags to the ground, finally free of their weight.  You take a seat on your bedroll, eyeing the one that you haven’t opened.

“Knock, knock.”  Gale announces himself at the wide opening of your tent.  “I hope you find your abode to your tastes.”

You each look at the nothing that surrounds your space so he adds, “Well maybe not quite what you’re used to but it’s better than the forest floor.”

Again, Gale looks at your coat.  

“I’m not sure what I’m used to, but this is good,” you tell him.  You shrug as you stand, giving him a smile.  “Thank you for putting it together.  I wouldn’t even know where I would start.”

Gales brow furrows.  “You are most welcome.  But you aren’t sure what you’re used to?”

It’s only then that you realize you never actually told anyone you have no memory of your current life except Tav.  And even then you’d just said your name and Baldur’s Gate, so your confusion would have seemed to be a result of the crash.  And when Astarion had teased you in the grove about not being able to read he hadn’t actually asked anything about having no memory until you questioned your identity looking into your bag.  Even then he didn’t question you, but he probably didn’t care at this point in the game.  Journey.  Not a game anymore…

“I don’t remember anything,” you admit, “except my name.”

“Memory loss isn’t a common symptom of ceremorphosis, but our tadpoles are hardly common.  I’m sure you’ll get your memory back in time, and if not, we can deduce some facts based on, well, you.”  

Gale holds his hands out as if putting you on display.  

“You come from affluence,” he says.  “There’s powerful magic radiating from your coat alone, not to mention your boots, which means you’re either friends with a very powerful wizard, or wealthy enough to afford one.  I’ve enchanted some items in my time but I’ve never met you, and I would remember someone like you.”

“Why?”  Well, money is quite memorable, you suppose.

Gale straightens and stammers, “Why?  Well it’s not every day you meet someone willing to take an arrow for another being, and a goblin no less.  Anyway, have you looked through your things?”

Your eyes fall on the bags.  “Just the one.  It’s only gold though.”

“May I?”  

“Sure.”

Gale picks up the heavy bag and opens the latch to peer inside.  “Yes, I’d say you are indeed wealthy.  Very, very wealthy.”

When he sets that bag down and moves to the other one you quickly dart over and grab it before he can.  The sudden movement makes him jolt.  You say, “Sorry I just…I haven’t looked in this one and…”

Your grip on the bag tightens, palm aching with the pressure.  You can’t find the words to explain to him what opening the bag would mean, what looking inside could take away.  With eyes scanning the floor of your tent you shake your head.

“No explanation necessary,” Gale tells you.  “I’m no stranger to the need for hope.”

You meet his soft hazel eyes.  Behind him the sun is just starting to dip towards the horizon.   

Graciously, Gale offers to move the conversation along to something lighter, like the imminent possibility of turning into a mind flayer.  You both leave your tent and sit on the rolls by the unlit campfire and once the sky begins to turn red Gale lights up the wood with a spell.  You’re not sure where Astarion has been all this time but you imagine he’s off bathing in the sun while he still can.  He only makes an appearance when the fire casts your shadows long across the ground, and Gale is finishing a story about the hijinx he and Tara got up to when he was young.

Though there’s still plenty of time until it’s truly night you feel exhaustion wash over you.  You wanted to wait up for the others to return but it’s nearly impossible to keep your eyes open, so you excuse yourself to your tent.  

“Goodnight Gale, Astarion,” you say.

“Sleep well,” Gale responds.

“Sweet dreams,” Astarion adds.  

When you take off your coat and boots, and tuck yourself into your bedroll you find a small pit of loneliness rise in your throat.  If you weren’t so tired you might have been able to focus on it, think about all the things you had to put aside today, but instead you fall into a dreamless sleep.

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope @sanscas @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @thequeen-oni @terrenuserinj @straewberrysoda @theomnipotentfox @becksynthetic @quitecontrary-to-mary @furblrwurblr @mega-trash-cringe @fandomsbookclub @dontneedbiologytoadopt

[spookyjuicefiction]

Violets & Plums: Astarion/Tav, Part 2

Part 1 Masterlist A/N: no thoughts, just bitchy vampire man and his Big Feelings

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

In spite of his nagging uncertainty regarding what had happened between he and Tav the night before, Astarion emerged from his tent that morning in the best mood he'd felt in ages. His mind felt clearer than he could ever remember, and he could hardly even feel the scratching of his thirst in his throat. He only wished he didn't have Tav's blood to thank for it. He hated feeling like he owed her something.

Still, her willingness to allow him to drink from her boded well for his plan to seduce her into submission. With his newfound strength, he was ready to turn on the charm and entice her to his bed for a different purpose this time. And, well, if he could get a little blood out of it as well, then the deal was all the sweeter.

He was happily busying himself by packing up to head out for the day when Karlach's voice cut through the morning quiet around the campsite: "Gods, what in the hells happened to you?"

He turned to look. Tav had just emerged from her tent, and she really did look like hell. She was unusually pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her hair hung limply around her face and her shoulders sagged. Astarion winced slightly at the sight, knowing it was likely due to blood loss from his overindulgence.

"Didn't sleep well," she grumbled, helping herself to a scoop of scrambled eggs at the campfire. Shadowheart and Gale, who were eating nearby, exchanged a worried look that Tav did not miss.

"I'm fine," she insisted, "no need to worry. Had.. a headache that kept me up last night, that's all."

Astarion smirked to himself. That's one way of putting it.

If Tav was insisting she was fine, Astarion was not about to spoil his good day feeling guilty about her. He walked in the front of the party for once, cracking jokes and making witty commentary. He did not realize what a wide departure this was from his usual petulant brooding in the back of the group until Shadowheart fell into step beside him that afternoon.

"You're unusually cheerful today," she remarked. "Any particular reason?"

"Well, darling, the sun is shining, there are so many people that need killing, and I am exceedingly good looking. What more does one need to be cheerful?"

Shadowheart huffed out a laugh. After a moment, she asked, "there wouldn't be any particular reason why you're full of boundless energy and Tav is so exhausted she can barely walk, is there?"

"What?" He asked too quickly. "Why would you ask that?"

"No reason, just an observation," her voice intoned innocence, but Astarion could see impishness in her eyes and playing at the corners of her mouth.

He frowned, irritated. "I don't know what you're insinuating, darling, but in case you forgot: all Tav and I ever do is argue. We don't spend a lot of quality time together."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Please. Haven't you ever heard how schoolboys taunt and tease little girls when they have a crush on them?"

"A crush?!" Astarion's voice came out higher pitched than he would've liked. "What an asinine and juvenile notion, even for you." He snorted. "I assure you, I wish Tav nothing but pure misery for the rest of her days."

He saw the half-elf roll her eyes again. "If you say so, Astarion."

"I do say so," he snapped, and then sped up so that they were no longer walking in step. So much for not spoiling a good day.

It only got worse when Tav insisted they would help two idiots find their sister who was apparently taken by a hag, and this led them through the nastiest, most putrid bog Astarion had ever seen. Every day he missed Baldur's Gate more.

"Who cares about some brat? If she went to a hag, that sounds like her business," he complained through gritted teeth as foggy bog water splashed over his boots.

"Hags perverse magic. They're foul creatures. The people of this area won't be safe until she's disposed of." Tav led the group now, apparently undeterred by the unpleasantness of their walk.

"Goodness, I've never heard you so vicious!" Astarion brought his hand to his heart in mock shock. "I guess the kitten does have claws."

"Tav is right. We can't let this hag get away with using magic to lure innocents into false deals," said Gale, and Astarion rolled his eyes. Of course that bookish fiend would rush to her defense. He wanted to shoot an arrow into his stupid hair.

"I look forward to cutting her down. It has been many days since we've seen combat," Lae'zel hissed, cracking her knuckles. "I ache for battle."

"Well, I don't," Astarion sniffled. "I ache for a massage and a nice bottle of brandy."

"Perhaps we should rest for lunch and gather our strength before we charge in with weapons blazing," piped up Wyll, indicating a dry-looking hill that would suit. The others mumbled agreement and made their way up to the spot, fanning out to sit on rocks and pull food out of their packs.

Astarion settled on a large, fallen tree on the edge of the clearing and pulled an apple out of his bag and began to peel it, so as to appear that he was eating. To his chagrin, Tav sat on the other end of the log, shooting him an annoyed look.

"Must you always complain?"

But something had caught Astarion's eye and he turned to take it in: a man was approaching their group, and he seemed to be heavily armed. Being the closest to him, Astarion and Tav rose quickly to intercept him.

"Greetings," the man said with a good-natured smile that immediately set Astarion on edge, for some reason. "Forgive the aroma. Powdered iron-vine, and old hunters' trick. Most monsters will think twice before making a meal of me."

Ugh. Astarion wrinkled his nose. "You're a monster hunter? I'm surprised. I thought all Gur were vagrant cutthroats." He could hear the rest of the party's footsteps approaching behind him. Tav shot him a withering look.

"Ignore the elf, he talks too much," she told the Gur, turning back to him. "What sort of monster are you hunting?"

"A vampire spawn," Astarion stiffened, narrowing his eyes, "but I fear he's gone to ground. I am hoping the hag of these lands can help me flush him out, if I can afford her blood price. When I saw your group, I thought it was best to warn you. His name is Astarion, and he may be very, very dangerous."

"Indeed," Tav cut in, taking a step forward. She had noticed Astarion's hands moving toward his daggers. "And what will you do with this 'Astarion' if you find him? Kill him?"

"No," the man replied. "My orders are to take him back to Baldur's Gate. My people wait for me there."

Tav cleared her throat. "Well, we thank you for your warning. We'll be sure to keep a sharp eye out."

The Gur nodded. "Safe travels, then." He gave a wave to the group at large and headed away down the hill. Nobody moved until he was out of sight. Then Tav turned to look at Astarion, and he was sure everyone else was also.

"Well, I guess that's the cat out of the bag, then," he said, turning to face them. "Surprise?"

No one said anything for a minute. Finally, Wyll was the one who broke the silence.

"Well, mate, I'd say we've all got our hangups. As long as you keep your fangs to yourself, I see no harm in carrying on as things have been."

"Agreed," Shadowheart said, and Gale nodded along.

"If you so much as bare your teeth in my direction, I will not hesitate to slice you open from sternum to groin." Lae'zel, obviously.

"Now, there will be no need for any groin slicing," said Astarion raising his hands innocently. "I haven't tried to bite anyone so far, have I? Well, I would've bitten Karlach if it wouldn't have melted my perfect face off."

Karlach laughed at that and wiggled her eyebrows. "What you wouldn't give for a taste of Mama K! But you're alright with me, Fangs. No hard feelings."

All eyes turned to Tav. Of course, thought Astarion, no decisions can be made without her final approval.

"Then we're all settled. Now, finish up so we can go hunt some hag."

Astarion could only stare as everyone made their way back over to their packs. That was it? No one wanted to fight him? No one had given him over to the Gur? Wyll had called him mate? He was completely dumbfounded. What game were they all playing? Were they all actually insane, or did everything else, including vampirism, seem normal in comparison to the tadpole problem?

The whole ordeal set his teeth on edge for the rest of the day, swearing they were whispering to each other about him behind his back. But nothing had changed at all, aside from Karlach calling out "nice one, Fangs!" when he struck the hag with a particularly good shot during the battle. When they made camp that night, no one even moved their tents further away from his.

Astarion couldn't stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. He stood tensely outside of his tent door pretending to read a book, but staring over the pages at the others to catch them conspiring, Thus, his heckles were already raised when Tav picked her way over to him.

"So, what do the Gur want with you, do you reckon?"

What are we, bosom buddies now? "How the hell should I know?"

"You must have some idea."

Astarion sighed and closed the book.

"I expect Cazador sent him."

Tav's eyebrows shot up. "You think so?"

"I know so." Astarion frowned. "It's very like him to send a... message like that." Noticing Tav's confusion at this admittedly vague explanation, he continued, "It was Gur who attacked me the night Cazador turned me. Sending one after me now has to be some kind of sick joke. He's reminding me that I'll never be free of him. That he can still reach me."

Tav sighed. "Tadpoles, mindflayers, goblins, and now vampires. We've got quite a bit to contend with."

"Then why didn't you just turn me over to him then, and save yourself the trouble?" Astarion snapped. She looked taken aback.

"No, Astarion, that's not what I meant. Why would I turn you over to him?"

He scoffed dramatically. "To finally rid yourself for good of all of my complaining that's so annoying to you? I don't know, why wouldn't you? He's a monster hunter, and I'm a monster."

"Because you're my friend!" She threw up her hands.

Her stared at her. "I'm your what?"

She stared back. "My friend. Aren't you?"

"Am I?" She looked hurt. "I - well, I hadn't really... yes, I suppose," he amended, and she offered a small smile. Cautiously, she took a step toward him. He looked around at her and tried to resist the urge to step back, wary of what she might be about to do. To his great shock, she slowly lifted her arms and wrapped them around his shoulders, pulling him against her. She was giving him a hug.

"You're not a monster. A spectacular bastard, maybe, but not a monster," she murmured in his ear. He could feel her breath tickling his neck, making his hair stand on end.

Astarion didn't know what to do. He couldn't remember ever receiving a hug before. Carefully, he brought his hands up and pressed them so gently across her back that he was scarcely touching her. He felt her body shake as she chuckled and pulled away.

"We'll work on it. Goodnight, Astarion."

The second she turned away from him, Astarion made a beeline for the trees. He hadn't needed to breathe in 200 years, but suddenly there wasn't enough air. The camp was too crowded, although he was more than ten feet away from where anyone else was sitting. As soon as he hit the tree line he broke into a run, pumping his legs as fast as he possibly could. His brain felt like it was short-circuiting, synapses long dead suddenly lit up and firing at random.

He was overloaded with sensation: the warmth of her body, the curve of her against him, the low hum of her voice in his ear, the chill of her breath on his skin, the scent of her - her perfume, her blood, overpowering him, incapacitating him. The memory burned through his mind white hot, scorching him from the inside out like the sun would have prior to the tadpole.

The tadpole. Finally, he slowed his pace, dropping to his knees. He had reached the lakeshore, and he placed his hands palm down in the sand, trying to ground himself. The tadpole must be the reason the sensation was so powerful - it was amplifying the memory, playing out all the sensations in overdrive that shock had blocked out initially.

He squeezed the sand in his hands and took deep breaths, even though he didn't need to. The sensation was calming anyway. This intense reaction to receiving a fucking hug was scaring the hells out of him. He settled back into a crossed-leg position and stared out over the lapping lake water and didn't move again until the sun rose the next morning.

It wasn't the hug, he realized, that scared him. The hug had been... well, incredible. The first soft and gentle thing he could even remember in his life. No, the thing that scared him was being seen. Being seen by her. She saw him so clearly that he didn't even know why he bothered trying to keep the mask on. The only time he'd ever had the upper-hand over her was the moment they first met - ever since then, she'd read him as easily as if he'd opened his tadpole to her and let her see him laid bare. He had been wrong to assume that she was trying to manipulate him, but she'd done it all the same. Every mean-spirited joke, comment, or action had been a roadmap to his pain, and she had landed a critical hit to the heart.

"Because you're my friend."

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

He tried to return to camp with as much subtlety as he could muster, wanting to avoid any questions about his absence the night before. There was no reason to continue to pretend to join the group for breakfast, so he set to packing up his tent, pointedly keeping his back to a certain friend of his. He was so anxious, however, that the task took little time at all, and he was left wringing his hands while the others took their time tearing down.

He risked a glance at Tav, and almost immediately regretted it when his stomach did some kind of sick fluttering that he had never experienced in his living dead memory. She was brushing the sleep tangles out of her hair and pulling it up for the day while laughing with Karlach about something. The sunlight caught her jewelry, making it twinkle, and he skin was flushed from her mirth. Had she always been so pretty? Certainly she'd taken some beauty potion in the night. Or perhaps he'd never really looked at her properly before.

Her body was supple, smooth and curvaceous. As a sorcerer, she didn't need to have the rippling muscles of Karlach or Lae'zel, but she was no weak, wilting flower either. He had seen the solid way she handled herself when she trained with Lae'zel. Most impressively, she walked with ease and confidence, even in the face of men twice her size. Astarion wondered how many creeps had regretted messing with her in the streets of Baldur's Gate after she fixed them with one of her most murderous stares, conjuring pure static shock between her fingers. As she swept the hair off her neck, he noticed the puncture wounds from his biting her, and the sight made him swell with pride. Mine.

The word sprang to his mind as intensely as if someone had shouted it in his ear. He shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to clear it. What the fuck was wrong with him? Didn't he hate Tav?

She caught his eye and smiled at him, and his stomach did a somersault. It seemed, despite his best efforts, he most certainly did not.

Part 3

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Reunited

After thirty-five years, Zevlor and Ilona are reunited. Follow-up to Before. Last section is NSFW but is otherwise SFW.

“OPEN THE GATE, ZEVLOR! NOW!”

The obnoxious human yelled as Ilona, Astarion, Lae’zel, and Gale approached a walled settlement.

That’s surrounded by goblins.

Great.

Wait…

Zevlor?!?!

“KANON, NO!”

Ilona knew that voice.

It was roughened with age but…

Zevlor?!

My Zevlor?!

He’s alive?!!?!?

When the goblin a few feet away lunged at her, Ilona cast Thunderwave, blowing that goblin and another scout flying.

And they hit the ground with twin thuds.

Fuck off, I need to get to my Zev!

Focus Ilona, he’s not my Zev. It’s been thirty-five years, and he’s probably married or partnered or—

When a goblin fired at arrow at her, she screamed, “I SAID FUCK OFF!” and cast Magic Missile.

Fucking goblins.

***

When Zevlor saw the dwarf maiden hurl spells at the goblins, he was transfixed.

Is that…

No, it cannot be.

“I SAID FUCK OFF!”

Nine Hells, it is her.

She always had such a way with words, my Ilona.

He aimed his crossbow and fired at the bugbear, landing a critical hit.

That’s for you, my love.

Bah, she isn’t my love.

She never wrote.

I wonder if she’s married now…

But more importantly, what is she doing here?

***

Things did not improve when Ilona and her party entered the grove. She tried to calm that asshole twat bitch Aradin and my knight in shining armor to no avail.

And when Aradin punched the paladin, she wiggled out of Gale’s grasp (now is not the time to tell me to “calm down” Mr. Wizard) and rushed to Zevlor’s side as Aradin and his crew departed.

“Zevlor? Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

In a few moments, his eyes opened slowly and then focused on her. “Ilona? Is that really you?”

Astarion’s mouth hung open. “Wait---you two know each other?”

“Oh yeah Astarion, meet the love of my life who never wrote to me, but I’m sure had really good reasons and I’m still in love with him FUCK ME.”

Ignoring the elf, Ilona touched his cheek. He’s still so, so warm. Gods, if only I could— “Yes, it’s really me. Are you okay?”

He grunted as he sat up, leaning into her touch. “Mrag. I’m fine. I’m fine.” His burning eyes met hers, and he lowered his voice. “We need to talk. Alone. Secluded Chamber.”

When Zevlor rose to his feet, he explained his people’s situation (it’s bad), asked for help (yes Astarion, we’re helping get over it), and directed them to where Nettie is. Maybe she can get this bloody parasite out of my head.

However, Nettie tried to poison me?!?!? With a branch?!?! And then I had to promise to take wyvern poison if I start to transform so she wouldn’t hurt me?!?! What the fuck is wrong with these people?! We did save that poor little girl though, so that’s something at least.

But that nasty woman wants the tieflings gone.

Not if I have anything to say about it, ma’am!

Later in the evening, after dinner, Ilona was able to slip away (not without sniggers from Astarion and Shadowheart) and met Zevlor in the Secluded Chamber. Which is a cave. Approaching Zevlor and a young tiefling woman, she smiled politely. He was still wearing his armor, but his companion was dressed casually.

Zevlor nodded at Tilses. “Tilly, you can leave us.”

Glancing between the two, Tilses barely held back a grin as she exited the cave.

He pulled a chair to him and sat, his shoulders slumping. Gods, he looks so tired. My poor love. NO. Not love. He may—

“Why didn’t you write?” he asked so softly that Ilona barely heard him. As she stepped closer, he continued. “I wrote every day. Every day for over a year, and not a word.”

“I did write! I wrote so many letters…and you never responded!” She balled her fists at her sides. “I thought perhaps…your stupid commander convinced you to…or maybe you…” Something’s not right. I remember his commander didn’t like me because I’m a dwarf. He couldn’t have…could he? “Did you? Find someone else?”

Anguish painted his features. “No! I dated, of course, but no one ever came close to you, Ilona.”

Her gaze fixed with his, she reached under her shirt and pulled out a decorated locket. I only take it off to bathe and sleep. I always wear it. His resulting broken sob caused her to throw her arms around his neck. “And no one ever came close to you either, Zev. I never stopped loving you. Never.”

He hugged her, pulling her into his lap, and wept. “My love…forgive me…I should’ve gone to you…or begged you to stay…I’m so sorry…so much time’s been wasted…Forgive me…”

Tears readily fell down the dwarf’s cheeks as she shook her head. “No! Don’t you dare blame yourself. If anything, you’re right---I should’ve stayed instead of leaving…I should’ve told Mum—” Mum wanted me home. She said she missed me, and I felt guilty. So I left…I promised to write and I did but none of my letters ever… She lifted her slightly and met his gaze once more. “It doesn’t matter. I found you, and I’m never letting you go again.”

“Pulchra, I’m not the same man I was.” He smiled ruefully. “It’s been thirty-five years, darling.”

She placed a finger to his lips. “I don’t bloody care. I think we’ve waited long enough, haven’t we?”

He puckered his lips to kiss her finger and then brought her raised hand to his chest, pressing against his heart. “Ilona, you have my heart---now and always.”

Her other hand caressed his cheekbones, and she could hear a rumble from inside him. His purr. He only purred when he was what he called “incandescently happy.” Oh Zev! “As you have mine.” Her lips curled into a teasing smile. “Won’t you kiss me, love?”

“If that’s what the lady wants,” he growled playfully, suddenly standing and holding her in his arms bridal style. She squealed in delight as he laughed and placed kisses all over my face! Just like he did before. “Then she’ll have it.” Zevlor carried her to his bedroll, placing her gently upon it. He then began to remove his armor. “Pulchra, will you stay tonight? I understand if you wish to return to your camp—”

She barked a laugh. “Zev, they know I’m not coming back tonight. They’re a bunch of weirdos, but they’re not stupid.” Watching him undress, she giggled. “Astarion and Shadowheart basically cornered me and asked how I know you.”

“What did you say?” He chuckled; his armor now discarded. He still places it in a neat little pile.

“That I knew you a long time ago and want to…” She smiled as he, shirtless and in cotton trousers (that need mending), lay down next to her. “Reconnect.”

This bedroll is barely big enough for him, let alone the two of us.

Luckily, there’s a solution!

Ilona turned, swung a leg over Zevlor, and hoisted herself onto his chest. He feels so good. So warm. She tucked her head under his chin. She sighed happily when she heard him laugh and wrap his muscled arms around her. “I’d say we’re more than reconnected, my love! Gods, I’ve missed this. Missed having you in my arms.” There’s that purr again. Oh Zev. “My fat little dwarf…”

She grinned. “Oh my gods, you remember that?!”

“Ha, of course! How could I forget the first night we made love, darling.” He closed his eyes for a few moments, inhaling deeply. “Memories of that night always fill me with joy…and yearning. Yearning for you, Ilona.” He squeezed her gently and kneaded her ample sides. “I much prefer the real you to the one in my memories. The real you I can hug and kiss and caress and protect as much as I am able.”

Ilona bit her lower lip, barely holding back a smirk. “I’m not the helpless girl you knew, Zev. When I got back, I took some classes with other sorcerers. We learned from each other about combat and learning how to control our magic better.” She placed a kiss on his chest. “Your fat little dwarf can use her draconic bloodline to her advantage.”

See, love? You don’t have to protect me anymore. I can protect us.

A deep rumble went through him and to me as he laughed. “Pulchra, I never thought you were a helpless girl. I felt it then as I do now---the dragon blood in your veins is much stronger than either of us can imagine. That being said,” he kissed her curls. “I’m glad to hear you learned from others like yourself. The way you thunderwaved those two goblins and sent them flying. Gods, I…” He swallowed thickly. “It awoke something in me I thought long dead.”

Hmmm, is it the very hard cock in his trousers? Why yes!

Lifting her head, she smiled. “You want to, love?”

To her surprise, he shook his head. “As much as I’d like to, darling, no. Not tonight. It’s been a long day. But tomorrow, yes…if that’s alright with you, of course.”

He’s right. Best to wait.

Besides, it gives me something to look forward to.

***

Zevlor paced in the Secluded Chamber and then stopped to stare at his map again.

Calm down, old man. It’s just Ilona.

“Just” Ilona as if she’s ordinary in any way.

As he growled and ran his fingers through his hair, he heard the stone door move.

It’s her.

Ilona darted towards Zevlor and threw her soft arms around his neck as he lifted her. There’s my girl. “Hello.” She whispered, kissing his cheek.

“Hello to you too, my dear.” He adjusted his hold on her and carried the dwarf to his bedroll, depositing her like she’s the most precious thing in the world.

Which she is.

As she watched him undress, her lips curled into a grin. “Does it feel as if we’re picking up exactly where we left off? Because it does for me.”

Off goes her top…my goodness I’ve missed those tits.

He chuckled, kicking off his trousers. “It certainly does, though we’re picking up with me having a bad back and knees.” Zevlor smiled ruefully, his burning eyes soft as he gazed at her laying down. Perfect then. Perfect now. My love. “Whereas Miss Fairshield is the very picture of beauty, grace, and elegance.” He murmured as he positioned himself on top of her, his face barely an inch from hers.

Ilona cupped his face, laughing softly. “Flatterer.”

“Never, pulchra. I only ever speak the truth…especially about you…” He let himself be guided as her hands pulled his face down to kiss him. The second her full lips touched his he moaned in her mouth. Fucking hells, she’s going to kill me.

Then he nearly came when he heard her whine, lifting her hips to meet his for any kind of friction.

FUCK.

“Zev, please…need you…”

Kissing down her soft jaw, collarbone, and arriving at one of her big titties. Fuck me, they’re still the best. Nothing compares to you, darling. “Let me taste you first, my love, then I’ll give you what you want.”

She nodded, moving her hands to his hair and undoing the leather tie. She then tossed it to the side and ran her fingers through his blond locks. Not all blond anymore…there’s gray too. She doesn’t appear to mind though.

“When did you cut your hair, love?” Ilona breathed between kisses.

“A long time ago, sweetheart. Been this length for nearly two decades I think.” He nuzzled the valley between her generous breasts and then began to trail kisses down her belly, his hands firmly on her hips. “Do you like it?”

She nodded breathlessly. “Yes…gods, yes…so sexy…” As his nose nuzzled her softness, she moaned. “Zev, don’t stop…”

Hadn’t heard that from a lover in so long, let alone her.

“I won’t, my angel…I won’t…”

“Zev, you…you…you, ah, ruined me for other men…no matter what…always knew…could never be better than you…” Ilona babbled, her curls bouncing as much as her tits and belly. Fuck, she’s perfect. Thirty-five years, and she’s still perfect. When he dove between her thighs at long last, she gasped softly. “Gods, Zev…please…need you…” That’s it, my love. Grab my horns. Just like you did back then. That’s it, darling. That’s it. “Zev, please…don’t stop…you feel so good, love…” So do you, my angel. There’s more of you to worship than before. So perfect, so beautiful. “Oh gods, Zev I’m gonna…oh gods…” She came with several adorable gasps, her hands gripping his horns for dear life. Goodness me, I’ve still got it. “Fuck me, Zev---I think I blacked out for a second there.” She laughed breathlessly, ruffling his hair.

He barked a laugh as he sat back on his haunches. “Miss Fairshield also gives the highest of compliments to us mere mortals.” She chuckled, pulling his face to hers and moaning when she tasted herself on his lips.

“Flatterer.”

As he lined up the swollen head of his cock with her entrance, he released a shaky breath. “I-I only speak the truth, my dear…Ilona, I…”

Those amethyst eyes…so full of love…love that never wavered all these years…

Her hands ran over his shoulders as she whispered, “I’m your most devoted supplicant.”

Good gods, Ilona remembered.

“I’m your lady wielding the power of a dragon.”

True and deeply arousing.

“I’m your woman who loves you and wants to make you feel good…”

Yes. Yes, you are.

Mine.

My Ilona.

My pulchra.

My fat little dwarf.

Mine.

The sounds of their lovemaking echoed in the cave, his movements matching hers in perfect unity.

It’s like no time has passed…

My love…

To his immense disappointment, he came first with a loud groan followed almost immediately by her. She pulled him to rest on top of her, and he smiled.

She always said she loved having me like this.

As he relaxed into her, he heard her mutter a cleaning spell.

Well, that’s new! My pulchra never did that before.

He chuckled. “Aren’t you full of surprises?”

“Hopefully good ones,” she sighed. “Only good for you.”

He peppered her curls with kisses. “Oh darling, of course. What my dear Ilona gives me is the very best.” With one more kiss, Zevlor sadly slipped out of her and rolled on his back. As she did then, she curled into his side, resting her head on his scarred, ridged chest.

“So, what you’re saying is,” she began to giggle. “You get the very best from your very breast dwarf.” That was a humorous little snort from her! “Sorry, I’m tired and clearly very silly right now.”

Gently caressing her shoulder and arm, he laughed. When was the last time I laughed like this? Years? “Well, I happen to adore you when you’re silly, pulchra. As for the tired, rest now.” The paladin rolled his eyes. “At least this old man needs some rest.”

She pressed a kiss to one of the many scars on his chest. “Oh hush, you’re not old. Sixty isn’t old for a tiefling.”

He snorted. “I certainly feel old, my dear. Your knight in shining armor has seen much, been through much…and his armor is old and worn.”

“I would say,” Ilona began slowly. “I don’t fucking care, Zevlor. I want you. I love you. That’s it.���

That’s it.

“So she has spoken,” he drawled. My sweet little dwarf. I love you with all my heart. “Rest, my love. Let’s rest and dream of what our life together will be like…”

When he glanced down at her, she was fast asleep.

Goodnight, my little light. It will be a joy to wake beside you once more.