#would you believe that astarion is freaking out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonselune · 1 month ago

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I've been playing alot of harvest moon/stardew recently and was wondering how the companions would react to a tav or durge prefering to settle down for the farming life post game. I know Shadowheart would love it anyway but Astarion would be the type to groan about the summer heat at times.

Btw love your work ❤️

Awh thank you! I freaking love stardew valley, I actually got to the point where I would see things in real life and be like oh i need that for my bundle...

Minthara:

Minthara had agreed to come with you back to your little patch of dirt. That was the first miracle.

She stood at the edge of the field, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at the rows of squash you'd lovingly planted weeks ago. Her elegant armor had been swapped—begrudgingly—for leather trousers and a dark green blouse with the sleeves rolled up. She claimed she only wore it because it “blended well with the shadows.”

In reality, she looked dangerously attractive, and you told her so often enough that it stopped earning you eye rolls.

“I still don’t see the appeal,” she muttered one morning, kneeling beside you in the loamy soil as you both weeded a row of carrots. “Endless dirt. Scratching at the ground like a deep gnome grub. You truly believe this is more fulfilling than conquering the Underdark?”

You grinned, pushing your hair back and letting the sun warm your face. “The carrots don’t scream when I pull them out of the ground.”

Minthara snorted—an actual laugh, short and sharp. She caught herself, frowning like she hadn’t meant to let it slip.

“I could grow mushrooms,” she said after a pause. “Real mushrooms. Not these surface-dwelling imitations.”

You perked up. “You want to farm?”

“I do not want to farm,” she snapped, yanking a weed a little too aggressively. “I simply think someone must bring standards to this pitiful excuse for agriculture.”

That night, you caught her carefully organizing mushroom spores in neat rows in the shaded part of the garden, whispering Drow words of encouragement under her breath.

And every evening, she helped you without complaint. She said it was only because you were “hopeless on your own,” but there was a softness in her touch when she handed you tools, when she brushed dirt from your face. Once, she found a fat, horned beetle in the lettuce patch and spent nearly an hour observing it before letting it crawl onto her hand and releasing it at the edge of the forest.

“I could get used to this,” she murmured that night, curled beside you on the porch. The stars glittered above like Underdark crystal formations, distant and sharp.

“You already have,” you whispered back.

She didn’t argue.

Karlach:

Karlach loved it from the very first moment she stepped onto the farm.

“This place is sick!” she bellowed, boots thudding across the dirt as she chased one of the goats around the field. “Look at this little beastie—oh, she’s got attitude! Just like me!”

You could barely keep up with her enthusiasm.

Where you had slowly learned the rhythm of the fields, Karlach plunged headfirst into it—planting, harvesting, repairing fences with her bare hands. She named every single animal and gave them nicknames too. Your prize ram? “Sir Headbutt.” The hen with the limp? “Motherclucker”

You’d wake some mornings to find her sitting in the barn, curled up with your herd of goats, one snoring against her shoulder as she scratched behind its ears.

You stood in the doorway, arms folded. “I’m starting to think you love the goats more than me.”

Karlach looked up, grinning that wild, warm grin. “Babe. You don’t chew cud and you hog the blankets. These little sweeties are pure, no complaints.”

You made a show of gasping in betrayal, and she laughed so hard she nearly toppled into the hay.

She was clumsy with gardening, planting seeds so deep they never saw the light of day, but she didn’t care.

“I’m all about the brawn of the operation, baby!” she said, hoisting a broken fence post like a weapon of war. “You’re the one with the gentle hands. You’re the heart. I’m just the muscle.”

You couldn’t count how many times you found her fixing things, adding improvements. She built a rainwater system for the fields, oiled the hinges of every barn door, and even made a small, hand-carved sign with all the names of the animals.

She hung it crooked on purpose.

And on summer days, when the sun burned and the sweat clung to your back, she'd scoop water straight from the well and splash it over both of you, laughing as you sputtered.

“You look good with dirt on your nose,” she’d say, brushing it off with her calloused thumb.

And you’d smile, because she was the kind of fire that didn’t burn—it warmed. And here, among the goats and gardens and peace, her flame could finally just... flicker, without fear.

Lae'zel:

No one had expected Lae’zel to take well to the slow life of a farm. She had always been all sharp angles, roaring fire, and a blade ready at a moment’s notice. But then again—no one had expected her to stay, either. And she did. With you.

What none of you accounted for was how seriously she’d take the training of the livestock.

"These creatures lack discipline!" she declared one morning, standing in the field, arms crossed and unimpressed as a trio of goats casually ignored her barking orders and continued to gnaw on the same patch of fence they’d been told—repeatedly—not to chew.

She turned to you, eyes narrowed. “Do they understand Common?”

"They understand,” you said, trying not to laugh as a particularly rebellious chicken pecked at her boot. “They just don’t care.”

You would have offered to help, but you were too busy melting at the sight of Xan, the tiny Githyanki infant wrapped securely to her chest in a sling you had made together. Lae’zel had first insisted that she didn’t need it—that she could carry her hatchling in her arms at all times like a proper warrior—but even she couldn’t argue with the convenience of two free hands. Especially for chicken combat.

You’d find her some mornings standing in the pasture, her face serious as she recited commands to the goats and hens like they were soldiers on a battlefield. "Form ranks! Maintain spacing! No, Clucker, no! That is not your perch—”

And all the while, little Xan would nap contentedly against her, a bundle of soft green skin and big yellow eyes, utterly unmoved by the chaos of the yard. Occasionally he’d gurgle and tug at her leathers with one hand. Every time you saw the two of them, your heart swelled nearly to bursting.

You leaned against the fence one afternoon, watching as a pig stubbornly refused to move out of Lae'zel's designated “training circle.”

“You know,” you said, grinning as she glared at it with more intensity than she had ever shown a goblin, “maybe farming isn’t about commanding obedience.”

“It should be,” she replied sharply. “They would be more efficient.”

Still, you saw her lips twitch when a goat headbutted her in protest. And she didn’t stop them from clambering all over her later when you both sat in the grass and let Xan play in the sun.

Shadowheart:

The house was small, sun-dappled, and always smelled like hay and something baking. Scratch lay sprawled across the front steps most days, belly-up, completely spoiled. The owlbear—too big for the barn, too curious to be penned—had taken to nesting in the orchard, gently knocking apples from the trees like it was performing some kind of divine rite.

Shadowheart had fallen in love with it all faster than even she expected.

You found her in the mornings tending to the goats with a quiet, practiced grace, her long hair tied up messily, a smear of dirt across one cheek that she never noticed. Her cleric’s robes had been replaced with linen tunics and earth-toned skirts—though her armor still hung by the door, just in case.

“What happened to the chicken pen?” you asked once, only to be met with a long sigh and her pointing silently toward Scratch—muddy, feather-covered, and absolutely unrepentant.

You were never alone. Not really. The animals had adopted you both. Scratch followed you everywhere. The owlbear guarded the house like it was the holiest temple. You even had a few stray cats that Shadowheart swore she didn’t feed, but you caught her slipping them treats more often than not.

Still, there was one part of the land she hadn’t explored yet—because you were keeping it a secret.

You worked on it in the evenings, tucked away behind the western slope of the hill. A dozen rows of posts were driven deep into the soil, with the first few vines already climbing, green tendrils reaching for the sky. You’d been studying grape varieties, borrowing books from Gale, and mapping sun paths like your life depended on it.

And finally, one golden evening, you took her hand and said, “There’s something I want to show you.”

She followed without question, her fingers warm in yours, and when you rounded the hill, her breath caught.

“You—” she started. “You planted a vineyard?”

“For us,” you said simply. “I know you love wine. I thought… one day, you could make your own.”

She stared in stunned silence, eyes glossy in the light.

“This is…” Her voice trembled, and she smiled so wide you saw the dimples that only showed when she was truly, deeply happy. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” She launched herself at you, arms thrown around your neck, kissing you with such fervor that you stumbled backward into the half-dug earth. “You sappy, wonderful thing. I don’t deserve you.”

“You absolutely do,” you whispered, burying your face in her hair.

And from the other side of the hill, the owlbear let out a low hoot of approval—promptly followed by Scratch barking and barreling toward the two of you like a freight train.

“You know,” Shadowheart said as you braced for impact, “we might have too many animals.”

“I regret nothing.”

Jaheira:

Jaheira had said no at first.

She’d crossed her arms, brow furrowed in that eternally war-hardened way, and declared she was not the “settling down type.” A Harper, a druid, a warrior—too much duty still ran in her blood, and she wasn’t one to lie to herself.

And yet, you often found her on the porch in the morning, sleeves rolled up, tending to the basil or trimming back the ivy that tried to swallow the trellis. Her hands were calloused, steady, already shaped by years of coaxing life from the soil—and the moment she touched the earth here, she remembered. Not war. Not rebellion.

Peace.

She fit into the rhythm of the farm as if she’d always belonged. Milking the goats, harvesting herbs, reorganizing the tool shed within an inch of its life.

“A sharpened blade is less likely to betray you than a dull one,” she’d say when she caught you leaving shears in the dirt. You tried—gently—to get her to stop sometimes.

“Jaheira,” you’d say, handing her a mug of tea in the shade, “you’re supposed to relax. Remember that? The whole ‘breathing’ thing?”

She’d huff, but her smile would betray her.

“I’ll rest when the tomatoes stop growing unevenly,” she’d mutter, before adding with quiet fondness, “Besides… this is good work. Healing work.”

And the best days—the very best days—were when her children visited.

The younger ones would come tumbling down the trail with satchels and stories, running up to greet their mother, who stood like a pillar of strength at the garden gate. The number of times Jaheira had to pry Fig from a scarecrow as she was practising her 'wrestling moves' was one too many. You’d watch her soften visibly, smile lines crinkling, arms open as they piled into her.

They helped with the animals, with mixed results. One of them always ended up covered in chicken feathers, another face-first in a flowerbed, and Jaheira would roll her eyes while secretly delighting in every second of it.

It was domestic. Soft. Loud and messy and full of warmth.

Every now and then, you’d catch her staring out over the fields as the sun set, a quiet melancholy in her eyes. You knew she felt the pull of Harper duty—that someday, she’d have to return to that life. But she never pulled away from this one.

And you never stopped reminding her: “This moment is yours. Don’t let it slip away.”

Gale:

Gale loved farm life. Maybe a bit too much.

He delighted in every step of the process—from sowing seeds to baking fresh bread in the stone oven. He was the first to rise (with magically summoned coffee, of course), and the last to go to bed, always muttering about “optimal composting cycles” and “rotational planting enchantments.”

You never had to worry about the crops failing. Not when Gale enchanted the soil to stay perfectly moist and fertile. Not when your scarecrow occasionally waved to you and politely asked for new clothes.

And that might’ve been fine.

Until he started taking the produce to Blackstaff Academy.

"Look at this carrot!" he’d proclaim with the glee of a proud parent, holding up a perfectly orange, absolutely normal vegetable.

Then he’d bring it back.

And it would be the size of a horse’s leg, glowing faintly, humming with a magical pulse, and—for reasons unknown—smelling like cinnamon.

"Gale!" you’d exclaim. "It’s a carrot. It does not need to be arcane-tuned!"

“But imagine the nutritional value!” he’d insist, delighted. “It now increases constitution by two points for an hour! Also, I added a small glamour charm—look, it sparkles in the moonlight!”

You buried your face in your hands. “It was for stew. Now it looks like it is for a health potion with a beard.”

The tomatoes came back one week with eyes and a faint sense of existential dread. The potatoes exploded on contact with fire. A single cucumber once tried to recite Elminister.

You instituted a new rule: No magical alterations unless specifically requested.

Gale apologized with his signature dramatic charm, bowing deeply and presenting you with a bouquet of roses (grown in your garden, made of light, that sang quietly when touched). You forgave him. Eventually.

You did catch him sneaking a pumpkin to his satchel the next week. You pretended not to see it.

After all, the man who once swallowed a Netherese orb deserved a little whimsy.

But gods help him if your wine starts talking.

Astarion:

The summer sun blazed above your little stretch of farmland, turning the sky into a wide, cloudless expanse of light and heat. Cicadas sang from the trees. The golden fields shimmered. You were sweating through your shirt, but you'd gotten used to it by now. Not everyone had, though.

“I am wilting,” Astarion declared from the shade of a fig tree, fanning himself with a piece of parchment and looking like the most glamorous corpse in Faerûn.

You were knee-deep in the garden bed, dirt up to your elbows, pulling weeds with the satisfied sort of grunt that only came from knowing your tomatoes were going to thrill the next farmer’s market.

“You know, you are wearing a magical ring that lets you walk in the sun,” you reminded him, not even glancing back.

“Yes, and I am grateful,” he said in a tone that was both long-suffering and exasperated. “But that doesn’t mean I must enjoy it. Honestly, do farms not understand the concept of ‘shade’? Or a cool breeze? Or a bloody parasol?”

You chuckled and wiped sweat from your brow. “I can take the ring back, you know. Could always go back to lurking in crypts and brooding in velvet.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then: “How dare you.”

You turned just in time to see him stalk toward you, predator grace still intact despite his muttering.

“That was a threat, wasn’t it?” he said, tone mock-scandalized. “You’d condemn me to a shadowed existence just to win this argument?”

Before you could get a word out, Astarion planted both hands on your chest and shoved. You stumbled backward with a yelp, landing with a mighty splash in the nearby pond, water closing over your head with a slap. When you surfaced, spitting water and pushing your hair out of your face, he was at the edge of the pond, arms folded, grinning.

“Next time you threaten to take away my precious accessories,” he said smugly, “perhaps you’ll remember who you’re dealing with.”

“Oh, I remember,” you said, swimming toward him with a grin of your own. “I also remember that you’re a terrible swimmer.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you—!”

You grabbed his ankle and yanked. Astarion screeched like an offended seagull as he tumbled in after you, limbs flailing in the most elegant way a vampire can flail. The water swallowed him with a splash, and when he resurfaced, gasping, you were already laughing.

“Well,” you said, treading water beside him. “You’re cool now.”

His curls were plastered to his forehead, pale skin gleaming with pond water, clothes clinging in all the right places.

“I loathe you,” he hissed, completely unconvincing as he waded toward you.

“You love me,” you replied, and when he tried to dunk you under, you laughed even harder. He did try to drown you (with affection), and the pond echoed with splashes and laughter long into the afternoon.

Wyll:

Wyll loved the farm. Really, truly loved it. He dove into farm life with the same unshakable optimism he brought to battle: sleeves rolled up, a bright smile on his face, and an absolutely terrible sense of crop rotation.

“Look!” he said, beaming, holding up a vaguely wilted carrot. “That’s my fifth one! It only took me six tries!”

The carrot was... lopsided. And slightly blue.

You peered at it. “Wyll... did you plant it next to Gale’s ‘experimental vegetables’ again?”

He gave you a sheepish grin. “Maybe?”

Despite his noble upbringing, Wyll took to labor like it was second nature. He loved feeding the chickens (even if they pecked at his boots), singing as he milked the goats (who responded by trying to eat his shirt), and tending the soil (even if he constantly mixed up which plants needed full sun or partial shade).

But he tried. Gods, did he try.

He’d wake up before sunrise to help gather eggs and bring you wildflowers with muddy fingers and a bashful smile. He gave names to every single pumpkin, saluted the cows like old comrades, and taught the pigs how to sit. (One of them sort of learned. You suspected it was coincidence.)

The vegetables he harvested often ended up a little too bruised, or crooked, or tiny—but he presented them with the proud air of someone who had just defeated a demon lord.

“This one’s for you,” he’d say, placing a funny little beet in your hand like it was a diamond.

And honestly? It was perfect. Because Wyll’s joy was infectious. His laughter echoed over the fields. His presence made every sunrise feel warmer, every day brighter. Even if his corn always grew sideways.

“I might not be the best farmer,” he’d admit, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I’m exactly where I want to be.”

And when you kissed him, fingers brushing dirt from his cheek, you couldn’t help but agree.

Halsin:

If anyone was born to thrive on a farm, it was Halsin.

Where others groaned about early mornings and sore backs, Halsin greeted the day with that warm, deep voice and a calm certainty that made the roosters crow more enthusiastically. Shirtless more often than not, with the morning light catching on his golden skin and broad shoulders, he looked like a god of the harvest incarnate—muscles flexing as he hefted hay bales like they were pillows.

You tried not to gawk every time he wiped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his tunic.

(You failed often.)

“I thought you were a druid,” you teased one day, leaning on a fencepost, watching him load the cart with fresh hay. “Shouldn’t you be turning into a bear and napping under trees or something?”

Halsin smiled, the kind of smile that settled in your bones like warmth. “Being one with nature doesn’t mean shying away from hard work. Besides, the goats get nervous when I shift. And they like it when I talk to them.”

He said this while gently stroking the head of a particularly moody billy goat, who stared up at him like he hung the moon.

You raised a brow. “Are you telling them secrets?”

“I’m telling them not to eat your herb garden,” he said. “Again.”

It wasn’t just his strength or his ease with the animals—it was the way Halsin belonged here. The land responded to him. Trees leaned in closer. The soil felt richer. Even the bees seemed to hover around him longer than they should’ve. And when the chores were done and you sat together beneath the old oak with your hands dirty and your hearts full, it felt like everything was in balance.

He never rushed you, never questioned your need for this life. He only helped shape it into something stronger, steadier. More alive.

And when he pressed a kiss to your temple after a long day, murmuring about stew for dinner and the chickens needing checking, and building some new play equipment for the goats -and the orphans, you couldn't help but smile.

Because your druid? He wasn’t just a bear in the forest. He was the heart of this little farm.

OMG how freaking wholesome was this, I did it more as a drabble style as I kinda had rambling thoughts about this, but I hope you guys enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

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

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ahoycaptainautumn · 2 years ago

Text

Fated Mates

Synopsis: you, a vengeful vampire slayer, cross paths with the devious and handsome Astarion. Instead of a stake through the heart, Astarion finds something he thought impossible for vampire spawn. A mate.

Not sure how many chapters this will be but it will be slow burn 🖤

Crimson eyes. All that swims in your memory is the look of pure satisfaction in those eyes at the carnage that unfolds before you. Your mother and siblings laid drained and lifeless before you. Your father chanting prayers as he grovels at the feet of the man before you. He is sleek and pristine, with onyx colored hair and prestigious clothing now splattered with the blood of your loved ones. His lips form a nasty sneer, sharp canines glistening in the now dimly lit manor.

“You should have never made a wager you couldn’t keep, especially with a vampire.”

•••

Suddenly you are jolted away from the heart wrenching memory. Nightmares coming and going as blurs of reality swing past you. A tentacle creature. Some type of bug. But what alarms you now is the feeling of rock beneath you. You try to come to as your memories try to serve you. A ship, crashing said ship, others. Others! You jolt from the ground and look over. The Githyanki fighter is next to you as well as the other female you believed to have introduced herself as Shadowheart. You all look at eachother, relieved to be alive.

You all set foot to find any others that might have been held captive while in that demonic ship. So far you have found a tiefling named Karlach and the humans Gale and Wylls. You split up in search of any others with a designated spot to return to. You come upon one last survivor as you crest over a small hill. Silver hair rustles in the wind as the elf’s back faces you. He just barely looks over his shoulder at you, motioning you closer.

“Quickly! I have one of those brain things cornered over here! Come kill it!” He demands. He points towards the grass down the slope in front of him. You take cautious steps, moving silently towards where he mentions. You tense, hand ready at your weapon. A loud squeal comes bursting from the grass as a hog barrels out and away from you. You barely have a moment to turn around to the elf before a dagger is pressed to your throat. In seconds you are thrown to the ground tugging against strong arms ensnaring you.

“Now me and you are going to have a little chat. And you even think about pulling something and you’ll lose that darling neck of yours.” He all but purrs in your ear. You thrash against him, failing to pull the weapon away from your throat.

“Now I saw you on that ship, don’t even bother lying to me. What did you and those brain freaks do to me!?” He growls. You try to take a look at him but he has you pinned too tightly.

“I don’t have anything to do with those animals! I was taken, we all were!” You try to reason. Your temper begins to take over your fright. You escaped that hell hole. Fought tooth and bone to leave with your life. You would not be put down by some scared little elf. He bites back at you, focused on getting answers and not enough on how tight of a grip he has on you. Fury licks up the base of your body and fills your vision.

“Nice try but you’ll find me hard to convince, now what-“ you cut off his ranting as your leg wraps around one of his own. Your opposite arms elbow plants firmly in the ground as you swing yourself up and over the elf. You land him on his back; twisting his wrist in your right hand as your left hand reaches down to grab his now dropping blade. In one smooth motion your legs capture his frame under your own hip to hip as both of your hands ring around his stolen dagger. Confusion smears over his features as hands shoot up in defense. You just bring yourself to give into your anger, to drive the dagger directly into his heart for infuriating you with his insane tactics before your eyes meet. Crimson eyes meet your (e/c) ones. And the world falls out from beneath you. You plummet into a vast nothingness. Your heart gripped and laid bare. Vampire.

Astarions POV

Barely escaping out of a now wrecked ship with disguising brain maggots crawling from it was probably within the top ten worst days of Asatarion’s long life. His muscles ached and his neck throbbed from the impact of where he now found himself. Brushing off dirt from his sleeves, Asatarion rose to his nimble feet as he shook out the pains in his legs. He finds himself in a grassy plain. The ship that once held him hostage was now just over the horizon smashed in against a mountain. Wreckage spewed across the field with no hint as to where he now found himself. He had half a mind to just start walking and find somewhere someplace someone to end up in. But he remembered there were others, whether fellow captive or foe he was not sure. As if on cue, the crunch of feet on leaves and twigs ushered in behind him. A malicious smirk graced his handsome face. Now there was someone with answers. Or dinner. He could take it or leave it. The manic leer doesn’t leave his face as he feigns terror to his new audience. With a signal of his wagging hand he gestures for them to come forward.

“Quickly! I have one of those brain things cornered over here! Come kill it!” Soft steps quietly make their way towards and past him. Your frame comes into his view. Your (h/c) hair billows behind you as you step in front of him. He takes in your toned form flecked with blood and feels his hunger only grow. A tasty little treat. You appease his cries and look over into the clearing where grass covers most of what hides beneath. Just as you ready yourself for another battle a boar rushes out. Astarion jumps on your temporary confusion and pounces onto you. His blade reaches your neck as he hurls your joined bodies to the ground. You twist and curl from him as you listlessly fight from his grasp.

“Now me and you are going to have a little chat. And you even think about pulling something and you’ll lose that darling neck of yours.” Your face may be facing away from him but he can feel the anger pulsing in your rising blood pressure. Your suppulent artery thrums, tantalizing him under your (s/c) skin. He nearly loses himself there staring at your beating pulse. He reigns himself in, shaking the thoughts and desires to be dealt with momentarily.

“Now I saw you on that ship, don’t even bother lying to me. What did you and those brain freaks do to me!?” He spits. Your talon like nails dig into him as you fight back.

“I don’t have anything to do with those animals! I was taken, we all were!” You all but scream. Astarion snarls, the sound vibrating in his aching fangs. “Nice try but you’ll find me hard to convince, now what-“ Astarion finds himself interrupted as you maneuver your body to throw him under yourself. Your long legs hook under each of his own while you busy yourself with stealing his dagger. Astarion can’t help but be mildly impressed but confusion and annoyance soon take precedence. His hands shoot upwards to grab the weapon from your nimble hands. His gaze darts up to you and the moment your gazes lock it as if fire runs throughout his entire body. Every system, every neuron locks against his will. The rest of the world falls to the sidelines, the world blurring around you. You seem to have the same reaction as your muscles relax and a quizzical look takes over the fiery one of earlier.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” You sneer. Astarion puts on his most dazzling smile in hopes it covers the utter confusion he feels at what had just passed between the two of you.

“Astarion my dear, and what’s your name oh so deadly killer?” Your temper flares across your face at his teasing.

“(Y/n).” It sounds vaguely familiar. Like a name long forgotten wiggling in the back of his mind. Or it was the rabid worm that was placed there.

“If you are all done wrestling now, we have ground to cover!” Shadowheart yells. You look up at her, back to him and then back to her. Torn on whether to stab him or not, you decide on the latter. You hoist yourself up and side step away from him. Bringing himself up by the elbows Astarion takes a moment to look you over. Interesting.

Part 2 here

#astarion #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #mates #fated mates #balders gate 3 #bd3 #vampire #reader insert #smut #slow burn

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save-a-forest-ride-a-bear · 1 year ago

Note

Heya!!

So I'm a little obsessed with the secret relationship trope... i was wondering if you could do an Astarion x reader secret relationship but maybe during a fight, reader dies and has to be revivified? And Astarion freaks out, like he goes semiferal and histerical?

Maybe it could be during the fight with his siblings at camp so now Cazador knows he has someone he holds dear (even if Astarion doesn't want to admit it yet) which is what they were trying to avoid?

Thank you so much!!!!

🗒 ꒰⸝⸝₊ All I Want ❛ ✧

Featuring: Astarion x Reader

Not proofread!

# Notes: I'm not too good with drabbles but I rly like this idea so I decided to try! also no use of "y/n" because I'll be honest I'm not a fan of it lmao

It was his idea to keep the relationship a secret.

He knew how that sounded — like he was ashamed of his partner, like he didn't want anyone to know for the sake of his reputation. That wasn't true, and he assured them of it. It was simply a precaution, something to protect them both. Now that they arrived at Baldur's Gate and are closer to Cazador than ever, he couldn't take any chances. Not when it came to them, at least.

He wasn't used to this — caring about someone other than himself. It was always about his survival, but now he had someone else to worry about. Someone whose life was worth a lot more than his own. Someone he couldn't afford to lose.

So, he kept it a secret. It wasn't exactly easy to go about their day pretending to be nothing more than companions, friends at most. Ever since they got together, he realized just how starved he was for any kind of attention, any kind of affection. Having to refrain from touching them too much or being his usual, flirty self hasn't been a simple feat. But he knew how important it was that they kept things under wraps.

His feet were killing him after a long day of adventuring, from Wyrm's Crossing all the way to the Lower City. At least they managed to avoid some confrontation for today, so he had one less thing to complain about. They got settled in an inn and he managed to sneak out for a few seconds with his partner to at least get a good night's kiss. He wanted more, but knew that would have to suffice.

The others had already fallen asleep, but he remained tossing and turning. Something felt off. He wasn't sure what, but his nerves were on end, like his fight or flight response had picked up on something he himself hadn't yet. Perhaps that was for the best, as it allowed him to notice the sound of footsteps early enough to stand up and grab a dagger. His hand shook slightly, wrapped around the handle of the weapon as two familiar faces walked in. He felt sick. He knew what they were here to do.

"Get the hells away from me!" It wasn't quite a yell, but definitely loud enough to wake the others. He instinctively took a few steps back, trying to maintain a distance far enough to deceive his brain into believing that he was somewhat safe. "Peace, brother. We're here to take you home." Aurelia uttered somewhat gently, but it almost made him puke. Brother. Home. Just the notion of it made him dizzy with disgust. The Szarr Palace wasn't his home, and these goons were not his family — he was tired of playing along with this fucked up game of pretend.

It didn't take long for a fight to break out, despite his attempts at deception. He should've known Cazador wouldn't let him off easy. Karlach was the first to react, letting out a guttural scream of rage as she charged at Violet. The axe cut through flesh before the spawn could realize what was happening, getting stuck where it met bone. She screamed, but was soon silenced by another blow. While it was supposed to be lethal, she simply vanished into a cloud of black smoke instead of dropping dead on the ground.

Leon was next, aiming for the person who was closest to where he stood which, to Astarion's despair, happened to be his darling. The spawn's claws slashed their skin open, blood splattering on the floor as they yelped in pain. Astarion didn't think — he simply acted, pouncing on Leon only to drive his dagger through his heart one, two, three times, until he too vanished into thin air. He snapped his head back in their direction just in time to see Yousen sneaking up, grabbing them from behind and sinking his teeth into their neck. The scream, the way their eyes squeezed shut in agony and their hands clawed against the spawn holding them still was enough to make Astarion see red.

He hardly remembered moving. But he did remember the screams. Not from his darling, but from his brother, as he drove the dagger into the side of his neck and twisted it. He looked back at his lover again, but the dark cloud from Yousen obscured his vision. He didn't hear screaming anymore. Only his ears ringing slightly and the sound of laboured breathing from his companions.

When he could finally see again, he almost wished he couldn't. That'd be better than the sight of his beloved's body sprawled out on the floor atop a pool of blood, their empty, cold eyes gazing into his soul. He rushed to their side despite his shaking legs, stumbling on his way there until he fell to his knees beside them. He raised their head by the back of their neck, resting it on top of his thigh. He hardly realized he was hyperventilating, hands shaking violently as he cradled one of their cheeks in his palm. "No, no... You can't die. Wake up, damn it!" He choked out, his voice rising from a whisper full of disbelief to a screech of the utmost despair.

Karlach too rushed to their side, fumbling with her bag with quivering hands. "H-Hold on, soldier, I think..." She stuttered out nervously before cutting herself off as she pulled a scroll of revivify from the bag. She knelt next to the two and placed the parchment atop the corpse's chest. It glowed a bright white light, seemingly seeping into their skin. There was a deafening silence for a few seconds when suddenly, they woke up with a loud gasp, eyes widening as life was brought back into their being.

The pale elf didn't waste a second before pulling them into a hug, not minding the blood staining his clothes. He hid his face in the crook of their neck, only a small sob and whisper being heard from him. "Oh, thank the gods... Please, please never do that again..." He choked out before pulling away from the embrace, cupping their cheek and pressing his lips against theirs. He never felt that before. That immense sense of hopelessness, agony and grief. Not to this level, not of this kind — and he'd make sure he never felt it again.

However, as he pulled away from the kiss, he saw something in the distance. Aurelia, bleeding out on the ground, watching them seconds before she too vanished into the darkness. If he still had a heart, it would have skipped a beat out of sheer terror alone. Cazador knew. He knew about his spawn's newfound love. And Astarion would have to be a fool not to expect his master to take advantage of that fact.

#bg3 #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion #astarion x reader

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roguishcat · 11 months ago

Text

Brunch

Summary: Another, better emotionally equipped male would probably just ask Tav out. Like on an actual proper date at a nice venue rather than sticking to their monthly meeting for brunch as a pathetic excuse for spending time with her. But that was the crux of the problem. Astarion had absolutely zero clue as to how to be in a relationship.

Humour/Friendship/Romance

Tags: AU, Modern times, Elf Astarion, No Cazador, Mature Language, Suggestive Themes, Jealous Astarion, Astarion is bad at feelings

Two-shot: Part 1 - 5k words

Pairing: Astarion x unnamed female Tav

Rating: Mature (Part 2 will be rated E, so MDNI please)

A/N: This does not have a beta. So if you notice any mistakes, please let me know! 💖 Comments are always appreciated!

“Sorry, I’m late,” Tav stumbled gracelessly into the café, her cheeks flushed from the heat.

“Quite alright, darling. I have already ordered,” Astarion replied, his eyes sweeping over her in appreciation.

Tav, being herself, misjudged his look and self-consciously pulled on the front of her dress, unsuccessfully trying to get it to unstick from her clammy skin. Everyone was suffering from the heatwave, and they looked it, except Astarion, of course. He, unlike Tav, looked as cool as a freaking cucumber. Silver curls falling just so, his white shirt fresh, sleeves rolled up to bare his forearms.

“I’m just going to go and splash some water on my face, it’s boiling hot outside today. I don’t know how you can bear it. Here, hold my bag.”

She thrust her tote into his hands and walked off in the direction of the bathroom. Astarion wasted no time in rummaging through it because really, what else did she expect? If she didn’t want him to snoop, she shouldn’t have handed him her things and allowed for him to have ample time alone with said things.

Tav was quick to come back, she didn’t even bother taking her bag back from him when she sat down. Sweet, trusting thing that she was.

“How you’ve been?” she asked and reached for her glass of water.

“Good. Won the case, quite predictably. The other guy’s lawyer was completely out of his depth.”

Astarion didn’t even look up from his phone as he said that. Tav wasn’t even annoyed. He’s been like this as long as she’s known him. For all intents and purposes, he appeared to be disinterested and careless, but actually Astarion noticed much more about others than he ever let on and could even be quite sweet, on a very, very rare occasion.

She was glad that their friendship survived over the years, even if they only met up for brunch once a month. She would like to see more of him, but with how busy Astarion was, it was frankly quite a miracle that he had deemed her important enough to meet up with any regularity.

Astarion and brunch, who would have thought that he would even entertain the thought of something so mundane?

When Tav first met Astarion all those years ago, they were all dirt-poor students, roommates trying to get by. Actually, she was still eyeballs-deep in student debt, unlike Mr. Big Shot lawyer, who was doing very well for himself evidentially.

“How about you, dearest? Anything exciting happen lately?” Astarion questioned.

Tav knew what he was alluding to and was quite prepared to lie through her teeth. Because her latest attempt at a relationship was not going well, but she would never admit it to Astarion. She didn’t need his ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk.

“Good, good.”

Astarion scoffed and rolled his eyes at her woefully inadequate attempt at lying. And to him, out of all people. He did not buy it. Because he knew exactly what Tav looked like when she was actually excited about someone.

“Thought as much. That’s why I went ahead and dumped him for you.”

“Excuse me?!”

She noticed that the phone in his hands was not actually his.

“You cheeky bugger, I can’t believe you swiped my phone and managed to unlock it! And who gave you the right to end my relationship, hm?”

“Tav, two pity fucks because for some reason you were feeling charitable do not count as a relationship. I did you a favour.”

“You’re the one to talk. You’ve slept with tons of people for much less than puppy dog eyes!” she shot back.

“If you are referring to the time Gale and I got shitfaced and got it on in the public garden, let me assure you, the stars that night were beautiful. It was a magical, unforgettable evening.”

“Sure it was,” she laughed and grabbed her phone.

She couldn’t stay mad at him for long and he knew it. Besides, he was right. She wasn’t that into her now ex. She only went out with him because he kept asking and she thought that it wouldn’t hurt to give it a go and make it work. Because, truth be told, it’s been a long, long, long while since she’s been on a date, so she thought that a nice dinner with a conventionally nice, smart, attractive person was not a bad thing for her.

Their order arrived. Full breakfast and coffee for Tav, just black coffee for Astarion. He sipped it slowly, enjoying the way Tav dug into her food with gusto.

“Mmm… this is awesome. Sure you’re not having any?”

“Food? Here? You’ve got to be kidding me,” he grimaced. Even the coffee was foul. He could only imagine what the food was like.

“Yes, I know, I know. Your taste is way to refined to dine on something so greasy and disgusting.”

“Yes, because some of us actually have class.”

“I would throw my bacon at you, but it would be a waste of good food. Consider yourself lucky that this is delicious.”

Her attention back on her food, Astarion was free to look at her at his leisure. He knew Tav hated summer, she was no good with the heat. But he quite liked seeing her all sun-kissed, new freckles dotting her skin, hair swept up to bare her beautiful neck.

Astarion would never admit it even if he was threatened with decapitation, but he liked talking to her, watching her. Tav was probably the only person he actually enjoyed spending time with nowadays, but it was not always so.

Astarion was not very fond of Tav when they first met. Actually, that was an understatement. She annoyed him constantly, especially when she was trying to be friendly and welcoming. He could not understand what her deal was. In his experience, people were never nice just for the sake of it. There were always strings attached. So, her doing the whole sweet girl-next-door act left him entirely unimpressed and irritated. If only he could afford the rent, he would not even bother with roommates. As things were, he had to put up with two.

Except over the years he noticed that her kindness was not reserved to the few that she could possibly gain something from. Tav was helpful, thoughtful and empathic towards everyone, which immediately drew people to her. He suddenly found himself a part of a friendship group which gravitated towards Tav. Them liking her was definitely the only thing they initially had in common.

Whilst Astarion enthusiastically threw himself into his studies during the day and even more enthusiastically enjoyed recreational activities with different partners after hours, he gradually came to appreciate her and was glad that Tav became something of a constant in his life. She was a clueless, naïve, sweet fool, but she was his fool. Not that she was stupid, she was quite intelligent, but rather too wide-eyed and hopeful for this world. People like that did not go far and Astarion was planning on going very far and making the most of every opportunity, no matter the cost.

At one point, sometime between cramming for his finals and helping her study for hers, Astarion toyed with the idea of sleeping with Tav. It wasn’t the first time he thought of it. Over the years, he entertained the idea in passing on several occasions with the level of enthusiasm one has when selecting a sandwich for lunch. That is, the same lukewarm interest that most of his conquests would receive. But over the years, Tav wormed her way into his heart. She was not just an annoyance, not just a roommate. They became friends, even if Tav was the one doing all the heavy lifting when it came to maintaining the said friendship. She was just always there and Astarion was very much taking her presence in his life for granted.

However, the realization that their studies and therefore time together would soon be over made the elf see Tav in a different light for the first time. And so he wondered, if she wasn’t just a roommate, just a friend… Whatever in the world could she be?

If anything, Tav was quite beautiful. Not staggeringly gorgeous, like some of his ex-lovers, but very pretty in her own way. Astarion was sure that if they had sex, it would be a fantastic experience for both of them. Especially for Tav. She would actually get an experienced lover unselfishly fulfilling her needs for once. But then he thought of something that he cared squat about when it came to others and very much when it came to her.

Tav’s feelings.

She wasn’t a prude, but she didn’t just sleep around for the sake of it. She would probably start reflecting on what it meant for their friendship, worry that it was going to screw everything up. And that was why Astarion didn’t go through with it. Although he was really tempted.

Predictably, they drifted apart after graduation. Predictably, it was his fault. He was the one who constantly cancelled plans and didn’t turn up when she invited him and others to outings. Tav went on to get her teaching certification and he continued on his path of becoming a lawyer. He worked hard and partied harder. His life was a kaleidoscope of faces he couldn’t remember, except those that he regularly spent time with for work.

It was fun, great fun, such great fun, he kept telling himself. It was exactly what he wanted. To take the big city by storm and make it his. To get away from his past, from the memory of scrimping and saving, living in borderline poverty as a child. Feeling helpless as his mother worked every waking moment to provide for his future, them constantly worrying about making ends meet. That was why he made damn sure that no one knew anything of his past. And that meant detaching himself from everyone who knew him before he became Astarion Ancunín the successful lawyer, who was now well on his way to getting a promotion and yet another pay rise.

A little under a decade passed. Astarion rarely gave Tav or any of his former friends much thought. Then, one balmy summer afternoon he saw her in the busy city street, surprisingly talking to Halsin, the environmental lawyer he went up against a few times, out of all people. Astarion felt as if someone sucker punched him. Stunned, Astarion found himself stopping abruptly, not paying attention to people bumping into him. Tav was wearing a pretty sundress that bared her delicate collarbones and shoulders, the light fabric whispering against her skin, her unbound hair framing her face. And then she laughed at something Halsin said, a genuine, full laugh, and smacked his biceps playfully. Astarion felt a wave of something that he could not quite recognise. Another, better emotionally equipped person, would recognise the feeling as longing. To Astarion it was just an unpleasant, hollow feeling that he was quite unfamiliar with.

Whatever it was, it compelled him to cross the street and start walking in her direction. Tav was just turning around when she collided with Astarion, which may or may not have been on purpose on his part.

“Ouch, sorry. I wasn’t- Astarion?”

He inwardly preened that she recognised him immediately. Clearly, he was just that unforgettable.

“Hello, darling,” he practically purred, steadying her gently.

“Wow, it’s been years! Fancy bumping into you like that, literally,” Tav chuckled, feeling quite drab next to him. “Well, I would love to catch up, but you probably have some place to be, all dressed up like that.”

Ah, that was true. He did have some place to be. He always had some important meeting, or trial, or party to go to. But that meant letting her go and that was definitely unacceptable.

“Actually, I am quite free this afternoon. How about getting some brunch?”

“Brunch? Really? Didn’t think you’d be the type, Ancunín,” she teased him a warm smile. “But sure, why not.”

He immediately regretted suggesting brunch, out of all things. But he was never very good coming up with something when put on the spot. And yes, brunch was something boring married couples and the elderly enjoyed, but there they were, walking down the busy street and into the nearest café.

And that was how it became their monthly thing. Meeting up for brunch on Sundays.

Another male, who was better versed at recognizing his own feelings, would have probably just asked Tav out by now. Like on an actual proper date at a nice venue rather than sticking to their monthly meeting as a pathetic excuse for spending time with her. But that was the crux of the problem. Astarion may have had a wealth of knowledge when it came to casual flings and friendly fucks, but he had absolutely zero clue as to how to be in a relationship.

And by gods he wanted to! It was embarrassing how much he wanted to. He wanted to wake up next to her every day, to have her move in with him, to have Tav around constantly, give her presents, see her face light up beautifully, whisper sweet nothings into her ear as they got lost in each other. You know, all that sappy crap that couples found so endearing. He wanted all that sappy crap.

But to get to that stage, he had to actually make the first move. He was kind of hoping to entice Tav into propositioning him first, but she was either incredibly dense, bless her heart, or just pretending not to notice that he was constantly flirting with her. Though perhaps it could have something to do with him parading a staggering number of lovers in front of her over the years. He admitted to himself that if tables were turned, he too would doubt that the other person’s interest was sincere.

And so Astarion decided to go for it and ask Tav out. Because he couldn’t stand the thought of her going on yet another date with someone who was not him.

He cleared his throat. “Tav?”

“Hm?” she looked up from her food, half-way done. It was truly impressive how she could devour huge amounts in no time at all.

“I have this thing that I’m supposed to attend, a charity gala dinner of sorts. Would you like to come?”

“You mean to tell me that Astarion Ancunín can’t get a date for the evening?” she teased. “I find that very hard to believe. But sure, sounds like fun,” she smiled, looking quite excited.

He deflated a little. Because whilst it was a ‘yes’ on the outing, it seemed like Tav thought he meant going together as friends. He sighed into his cup. It would have to do for now. At least he would have someone he actually wanted to talk to throughout the evening. And he was curious what Tav would choose to wear. He rather hoped it was something backless.

On Monday, Shadowheart stopped by his office, knocking on the open door to get his attention.

“Got a minute?”

“For you, dearest? Of course.”

She walked up closer to his desk, delicate heels clicking on the hardwood floor and then the sound being swallowed up by the expensive carpet.

“I heard you are bringing Tav along with you to that charity thing,” she began slowly.

Astarion scowled and took his gold rimmed glasses off. They were non-prescription, as everything about him including his eyesight was perfect, but he rather liked how sophisticated he looked when wearing them.

“And how, pray tell, do you know that?” he drawled, annoyed to have Shadowheart out of all people find out about his plans.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart gave a longsuffering sigh that was meant to show that she doubted his intelligence, “I know you don’t pay attention to anyone unless there is something to gain, but you do remember that I used to hang out with you and Tav at uni? Of course, not,” she scoffed at the blank look he gave her. “You didn’t even recognise me when I first started working here.”

Astarion vaguely remembered that there was a goth chic hanging out with Tav from time to time, but he was otherwise uninterested in anyone that he wasn’t involved with. He barely said ten words to Shadowheart back then. Her being snarky and mean should have been reason enough for them to hit it off instantly, but not so. Years later, when Shadowheart first started at the company, the silvery blonde hair, the professional-looking pencil skirts and heels, and the much softer manner with which she carried herself were polar opposite to the way she looked when they were in their early twenties.

“Get to your point,” he huffed, really not in the mood for whatever Shadowheart had to say.

“Look, I like Tav. She’s not like you and me. We are pragmatic, narcissistic, ruthless,” she accentuated her words by closing the file he was looking through sharply in his face. “Which makes us perfect at what we do. But, for some reason, Tav seems to like you well enough to keep putting up with you as a friend. But do you really think that you two are on the same page about what is going to happen once you bring her home?”

“Ah, yes. The relationship advice that I didn’t ask for from the person who is as terrible at relationships as I am. Good talk,” he opened the file again to signal that their conversation was over.

“I’m serious. You can’t just screw around with Tav. She is the type that is for keeps and shit.”

“Tsk, I see Karlach’s potty mouth is rubbing off on you,” he admonished the half-elf with a smirk.

“Perhaps in more ways than one,” Shadowheart all but purred.

“Do not need the sordid details and to save you the trouble, never will in the future.”

“Oh really?” she raised her eyebrows in surprise, flipping her long hair over her shoulder, “I thought you lived to gossip. When did you become such a bore?”

“Since I had this terrible, headache inducing environmental case thrown on my table,” Astarion rubbed his temples, trying unsuccessfully to fight back a yawn.

“Halsin?”

“Who else. As if it is possible to save that fucking lake for those damn ducks. What is it with that man and ducks?”

She chortled. “Good luck with that. Who knew that he would be so proficient at what he does, right? Wasn’t he the one who was caught streaking couple nights before his graduation? I think we were first year students at the time.”

“It was him, shouting something along the lines of being one with nature. Nice ass though.”

“Nice ass indeed,” she agreed. “But we are digressing. Don’t just sleep with Tav to have yet another notch on your bedpost. If you want to try to make it work with her, go right ahead. Gods know she’s had a crush on you long enough. But if not, well… Expect to be in for a world of hurt. Karlach will hound you and impale you with one of those new swords she bought for her weapon collection she thinks she snuck past me a couple of days ago.”

“You are living together?” Astarion actually looked up, giving her his full undivided attention.

“So it seems,” Shadowheart smiled, a proper, genuine soft smile which rarely graced her face. “Think about what I said. And don’t do anything rash.”

After she left, Astarion tried to focus on his computer screen and the papers in front of him, but his thoughts kept drifting to what Shadowheart said earlier.

Tav has had a crush on him for years. Surely not! He would be the first to know if she had feelings for him, right? And what confused him the most that instead of being elated, relieved that she wanted him, he felt a sick kind of dread.

Shadowheart was right. What was he even thinking? He was not ready for an honest-to-gods relationship! Especially with someone like Tav! Someone he cared about too much to just say ‘thanks, but no thanks’ if something went wrong.

He groaned and massaged his temples again. Why did he even ask her? He couldn’t just cancel now, could he? Although… why couldn’t he? It would be easy enough. Make up an excuse of some sort. Tav would probably forgive him. One could hope.

That same evening there was a pounding on his apartment door. Shadowheart was furious, that much he could tell just by checking the doorcam.

“Can I help you?” he opened the door and Shadowheart stormed right in.

“Cut the crap, Ancunín!” she snapped, eyes blazing and clearly ready for a confrontation. “Tav called me. Apparently, you haven’t the balls to actually admit that you like her, so you just cancelled the date!”

“It wasn’t a date,” he said pathetically, sounding like a petulant child even to his own ears.

“That’s what she said too. That it was just you two going as friends,” she mocked. “So, tell me, what set you off? Was it me telling you that she likes you? Is that it?”

“That has nothing to do with this!” he bristled, his hackles raised. “I simply decided that I don’t want to take anyone.”

“Sure you did,” she rolled her eyes at the obvious lie.

Astarion chose this moment to regroup, sensing that Shadowheart had one over him. And under no circumstances was the obstinate elf stooping so low as to admit that he was afraid of dealing with feelings. Letting out a breath, he ran his fingers through his snowy curls, letting his lips curl upwards into a smirk. It was a familiar act, comforting in a way. Playing the rake has served him well over the years.

“Besides, why would I even want Tav in that way? I could have anyone, literally anyone, just like that. I could have you right here, right on the floor, right now, if I wanted to.”

“Excuse me?” She scowled and crossed her arms over her chest, unimpressed by his insinuation.

“You heard me. In fact, I think that’s why you are really here,” he took a purposeful, predatory step towards her, taking his glasses off and giving her a slow, practiced smile. He tilted his head forward a little, letting a rogue curl fall out of place, dropping his voice to a sensual murmur. “Want me to throw you one, Sha-dow-heart?”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. In hindsight, perhaps challenging her was not one of his brightest ideas. But then again, how many of his snap decisions were?

“Do it,” she lessened the distance between them, so they were standing almost nose to nose. “I said do it. Throw me one, Astarion.”

“Excuse me? Wha- what about Karlach?” he stuttered, panicking and unsure of what to do next.

“Let’s just say we have an understanding, of sorts. So come on then. Right here, right now, on the floor.” Shadowheart trailed a delicate finger up and down his chest, bringing her other hand up to pop the top button on her shirt open.

“What do you say?” she murmured, looking up at him through her long, fluttery lashes.

Shadowheart was a picture and she knew it. There was no way any living, breathing creature would turn her down, especially when her intent was all-too-clear.

Astarion gulped. “I- I think you should go.”

“I knew it!” she jabbed him hard with a manicured finger, making the elf wince. “I knew that you were full of shit! And you know why? Because you like Tav, you clueless idiot! So do yourself a favour, stop being a fool and call her! Take her to the party, don’t take her to the party. But tell Tav how you really feel or I swear to gods, I will give her number to everyone who has been clamouring to ask her out. I have a list a mile long of people who would happily sweep her off her feet the way that she actually deserves! Your move, Ancunín.”

And with that she stormed out, slamming the door shut for good measure.

Astarion did not call Tav. Not that evening, not the day after, and not the day after that.

He hated how much of a coward he was. And Shadowheart was right, Tav deserved much more than his half-arsed attempts at asking her out.

On Friday evening, Shadowheart stopped by his office before leaving for the day and sat down on the sofa opposite his desk, crossing her shapely legs as she looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“Halsin asked Tav out, you know. And she said yes. They are meeting for drinks tonight, probably right about now.”

Astarion did not look up from the papers strewn across his desk. “Thank you for that information, not that I asked.”

“So I take it that you don’t care?”

“Not in the slightest,” he waved her question off, as if it was completely inconsequential and unimportant, lifted the cup of coffee off his table and took a sip. He definitely would have to pull an all-nighter, with the workload being absolutely impossible.

“Good, good. That’s what I thought too. Which is why I told Tav that it wasn’t slutty at all to go all the way on the first date.”

He choked on his coffee.

She quirked an eyebrow and waited a beat for her words to sink in. “And then, being a good friend, I made sure that Tav had three types of condoms in her bag. Halsin looks like a big boy, but you never know what size they might actually need.”

Astarion could not reply because he was still trying to cough up his lungs, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

“But never mind that, I’m sure you have a marvelous evening ahead of you,” Shadowheart smirked, getting up and smoothing the front of her pencil skirt out. “I, for one, am meeting up with Karlach in an hour, so have a nice weekend.” With that she walked out of his office, her heels clicking in a way that could only be described as smug.

Astarion told himself that it didn’t matter to him if she slept with Halsin. Hells, it didn’t matter if she slept with half the city! It was none of his business. He had their monthly brunches to look forward to. The next one would be in a couple of weeks, or 26 days, or 624 hours. Not that he was counting.

And that was how Astarion found himself standing across the street from the place that he heard Tav go on about. He guessed correctly, she was indeed at that exact restaurant.

Astarion scowled as he saw that she actually made a real effort for this date, looking absolutely delicious, if he said so himself.

He could have taken her there. It could be him sitting across from Tav now. Reaching out to wipe a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth with his napkin, she really was a messy pup sometimes, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. Leaning forward to-

“Oh, hells no,” Astarion hissed, watching as Halsin leaned forward to whisper something in Tav’s ear, making her blush prettily.

“You deserve it, you know.”

He jumped at the familiar voice. Karlach was looking at him with a smirk, Shadowheart standing next to her tiefling.

“What are you doing here?”

“On no, Shadowheart, Astarion’s been discovered!” Karlach stage whispered. “Spying on a person on her date like some kind of creep.”

“And you two? Don’t tell me you just happened to stroll past this particular restaurant at this exact time, hm?” Astarion mocked, his back rigid as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Oh, we are nosy, alright” Karlach admitted readily with a shrug. “But we are rooting for this date to be a success. And I bet Shadowheart that you would turn up. Pay up, baby!”

Shadowheart grumbled and got her phone out, sending the money to Karlach. “You see, I had some faith in you. Should have known better.”

“Well, thank you very fucking much,” he bowed with a flourish and turned away from the two. “Now if you two excuse me, I have a date to crash.”

“What do you think you are doing? There is no way you are going there!” Shadowheart hissed, grasping his forearm and making him squirm. The woman was deceptively delicate, holding him in place easily with a vice-like grip.

“And why the hells not?” Astarion spat, finally managing to push her away with his other arm.

“Because Karlach here will throttle you if you make one step towards that restaurant.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. He survived this long by knowing to pick his battles wisely. He could perhaps take Shadowheart in a scuffle, but Karlach was a different matter entirely. Yet, he was not above being a petty bitch about it.

“Shadowheart wanted me to throw her one,” he hissed spitefully.

“Yes, she told me about that conversation you had,” Karlach grinned, completely unfazed by the hostile looks the two elves were giving each other. “Because my baby always tells me everything.”

“Baby does,” Shadowheart nodded without looking away from Astarion but squeezed Karlach’s hand, her shoulders relaxing somewhat.

“Ew, talking in third person,” he sneered. “It’s such a disgusting, coupley thing,”

“How would you know? Not exactly an expert,” Shadowheart countered quickly, making him scowl.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Karlach patted Astarion’s silver curls good-naturedly. She really did feel sorry for him, firmly believing that the elf was capable of getting his head out of his ass if given enough incentive. “Whatever happens now, happens. You missed your chance.”

“Shadowheart? Is that you?”

The three froze as they saw that Tav was walking towards them, smiling broadly.

Shit.

She saw them. The three weirdos stalking their friend whilst she was on a date. Not their proudest moment.

💖Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9, @hellethil,

@khywren, @maeryls-journal, @larvasmoon, @xxnashiraxx

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion tav fanfiction #astarion fanfiction #bg3 tav #fanfic #baldur's gate fanfiction #fanfiction #astarion is bad at feelings

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frantic-fiction · 1 year ago

Note

Hear me out… my TAV’s background is that she was a sex worker that was sold into the trade from a young age, and this has been her chance to break free, and she’s romancing Astarion and he’s the first person she slept with that she CHOSE to and WANTED to, and all I can think of is the “you were just a transaction” line he has… and maybe he says it to her because he freaks out and is scared of his feelings? Just something SO angsty, HEAVY groveling, happy ending??

My heart ugh you monster (I love you 🥰)

I don't write angst very often. This was incredibly fun and heartbreaking to write...and I might have gone a little too melodramatic with it. Hopefully this lives up to what you were imagining!!

Transaction

Astarion x gn!reader

Warnings: Angst with a slightly happy ending, implied that reader was a sex worker, if I missed anything major let me know

Word Count: 2k

Masterlist

Transaction.

Just a transaction.

You were just a transaction.

It's a bitter realization that hits you like a cold wave crashing over your very being. How naive of you to believe that someone could see beyond your body? To look deeper than sex and find all the quirks and vulnerabilities underneath. The person who savors the taste of sweet rolls and red wine, who secretly indulges in cheesy romance novels but would never admit it out loud. The person who was forced to do unspeakable things but still stands strong in this cruel world.

You thought he understood. After all the nights spent sharing your history, baring your soul, and listening to him bear his own, you dared to hope he would be different. How could you have been so blind, so naive, to succumb to the romantic fantasy of finding someone who saw and understood the scars you carried and loved you all the same?

How could he do this? The laughter you once shared under starlight and the kisses captured behind tent flaps all feel hollow all merely a performance to win you over for his benefit alone. How could you have been so blind to his true intentions? Was it the desperation for connection that clouded your judgment, or simply the yearning for love you so desperately craved?

The signs were there. Astarion's gradual withdrawal began after the events at Moonrise Towers. You convinced yourself it was merely that the group was finally back in the city. You hoped that a night alone together would help. But hope was a fragile illusion.

Instead of finding solace in each other's arms, you are standing on the precipice of your unraveling. Each word, each action, reinforces the painful truth that you were nothing more than a pawn in his game—a transaction to be exploited for his gain. And as you grapple with the emptiness gnawing at your chest, you can't help but wonder why you failed to see it coming.

"Hey, Soldier."

The voice breaks through the haze of your thoughts, pulling you back to the present moment. Blinking slowly, you find yourself in the dimly lit confines of an alleyway, the stench of decay mingling with the chill of the night air.

Moving like you're wading through water, you turn towards the voice. You stare blankly at Karlach, who kneels beside you with concern and caution as if approaching a frightened animal.

You sluggishly realize—you're the frightened animal.

Behind her stands Halsin, his attempt at a reassuring smile falling short in the face of your obvious distress.

"We were getting worried about you," Karlach murmurs, her usual cheer tempered by genuine concern.

"I'm sorry," you croak, your voice raw with emotion.

You don't remember when the tears began falling, but they nonetheless stain your cheeks.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Halsin assures, his voice a soothing balm to your battered soul.

Wrapped in a cloak infused with the scent of pine and honey-suckle, you allow yourself to be guided through the silent streets of Baldur's Gate, the passage of time seeming to have slipped through your fingers like grains of sand.

How long have you been lost in your despair?

"He, As—" you choke on his name, the pain of his betrayal still fresh in your heart.

"You don't have to explain anything. Not to us," Karlach interjects, her hand a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of your emotions.

"Thank you," you whisper, gratefully.

The journey back to the Elfsong Tavern is a silent procession, your footsteps echoing in the empty streets as you grapple with the weight of your shattered reality. Once inside, you are ushered into a bed. Gale gives you a sleep draught while Shadowheart heals your shredded palms, which you didn't realize you injured in your dissociation. After that, you're left with a fleeting moment of peace.

No one mentions the absence of a familiar presence, but the void he left behind looms large in the silence that envelops you.

From his vantage point on the rooftops, Astarion watches as Tav is led back to the safety of the tavern. Their frail form is a stark reminder of the havoc he has wrought. Guilt gnaws at his insides, punishment for the pain he has inflicted upon the one person who saw past the facade he so meticulously crafted—the person who began to love him.

He feels sick to his stomach, the weight of his actions crushing him beneath its burden. With each passing moment, the memory of Tav's heartbroken expression sears into his mind, the irreparable damage he has caused.

Astarion wishes he could take back the venomous words that slipped from his lips and erase the pain etched upon Tav's face. He wishes he could confess the truth that lies buried beneath layers of deceit and self-preservation and admit the depth of his feelings without fear of rejection or abandonment. Pull them into his arms, kiss away the tears, and whisper all the love Tav deserves to hear.

But wishes hold little sway when your world is governed by fear.

You allow yourself one day to mourn, to grieve for the shattered illusions that once held sway over your heart. But with the dawn comes the realization that there is no room for weakness. You steel yourself against the pain, burying it deep beneath a facade of strength and determination. You still have a tadpole in your skull and a city to save.

The days blur into nights, a relentless cycle of action and exhaustion that leaves little room for introspection or regret. You throw yourself into the fray, tackling each challenge with a ferocity born of desperation and resolve.

Nights, however, offer no respite from the torment that threatens to consume you whole. In the darkness, when the world is shrouded in shadows and silence, the memories come rushing back with a vengeance.

Astarion's parting words echo in the recesses of your mind, a relentless refrain that serves as a painful reminder of your naive hopes. Despite the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface, you still hope Astarion's safe. Deep down, you still care for him.

It was another restless night. You were digging through your travel pack when a hesitant knock hit the sturdy wooden door of your room. It was late, but it was not unusual for Karlach or Shadowheart to pop in and check on you. Standing up, you stowed your pack away and moved to the door. Your socked feet padded against the wooden floor.

"Shouldn't you be asle—" The words die in your throat, and your stomach drops as you're faced with the man you've been trying to forget.

Astarion looked terrible. His hair was a frizzy mess, curls sticking out in unruly strands. He had dark purple circles under his eyes and hollow cheeks. His clothes–the same ones he left in–were covered in a splatter of mud and grime. At that moment, Astarion had never looked more like a corpse. Where had he been?

"Tav," his voice was a whisper, laden with sorrow that pierced through the still air.

The sound of your name on his lips was like a knife twisted in an old wound, reopening the fragile scare you hastily tried to heal over the last two weeks. You recoiled instinctively, the pain of his presence threatening to ruin you all over again. You couldn't afford to unravel not again, not when so many counted on you. With wide eyes brimming with unshed tears, you turned away to flee.

But Astarion's desperation refused to be ignored. His hand shaking with uncertainty, he reached to halt the closing door. "Wait! Please, Tav," he pleaded. "I know you owe me nothing, but I beg you, let me say this, and you'll never have to see me again."

Your throat tightened, a lump choking back the bitter retorts that threatened to spill out. The impulse claws at your conscience, tempting you. Yet, the crack of Astarion's voice, the tremor of vulnerability that seeps from him, holds your tongue.

With a heavy sigh, you relented, the door inching open just enough to meet his gaze. "Two minutes," you whispered.

Astarion's relief was palpable. "Gods, Tav, I'm so sorry," he began each syllable, a testament to the regret that weighed on him. "You can hate me for eternity, and I would deserve it. But I need you to know that every word I spoke to you was a lie."

A tear traces a path down his cheek, and you long to reach out and wipe it away—to soften the turmoil on his beautiful face and erase the sorrow that consumes his glistening eyes. But instead, you tighten your fist against your thigh and stare up at him blankly, waiting for him to continue.

"I need you to know that I pursued you instinctually because I needed someone on my side, someone to trust me," he continued his voice a fragile whisper against the silence. "But then you showed me love and happiness and became so much more. You were… you are… more than I deserve. And I hurt you, and I will carry that with me forever."

"Astarion," you began, the syllables catching in your throat, suffused with a longing you dared not acknowledge. But before you could find the words again, he spoke once more, voice quivering with regret.

"I love you, Tav," Astarion confessed, the words lingering in the silent room. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but before I leave, I need you to know you are more than sex and safety. More than a Gods damn transaction."

"Astarion,"

"And I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for ruining the one good thing in—"

"Astarion!" You grab his arm, ceasing his frantic apology. You're stunned, standing on the threshold of your room, feeling more confused than ever. Love? How are you supposed to feel when the man who tore you apart is telling you he loves you?

Astarion's eyes widen in surprise, his breath catching in his throat as he meets your gaze. His eyes swim with a mix of hope and despair.

The weight of his confession presses down on you, threatening to suffocate. Wordlessly, you walk back into the room, leaving the door open for Astarion to follow. Collapsing onto a chair, you rub your face, struggling to make sense of your raging emotions. The heartbreak and betrayal are still so fresh, but the sincerity in Astarion's regret seems to chip away at your defense.

"I don't know what to say,"

"I… I understand," Astarion murmurs, his resignation soaking his words. I'll leave you be. I promise you won't see me again, Tav."

But as he turns to leave, the ache in your chest intensifies, the void he leaves behind widening with each step. And that moment, despite the pain, the betrayal, and your base instinct to shut him out entirely, you still care for him. Maybe even love him, too.

"Astarion, wait, you call out, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them. "Stay."

He freezes mid-step, his back turned to you, body tense with anticipation.

"Please," you plead, the word heavy with the weight of your conflicting emotions. "Just don't go."

Astarion slowly turns to face you, his expression a mix of disbelief and hope, his eye shining with more unshed tears. The silence stretches in the room. Hesitantly, with slow steps, he walks to the seat beside yours. The two of you sit there momentarily, unsure where that left you.

Tentatively, you reach out and take his cold hand into your warm one. "You hurt me," you start, not looking over at the man but feeling his intense stare. You betrayed my trust, and I can't just forget that."

"I understand." Astarion's shoulders slump in defeat. "I didn't expect��"

"But I care for you," You interrupt, squeezing his hand softly. "I haven't been able to stop worrying about you since you left. I don't think I can handle you leaving again."

"Okay," Astarion says, simply rubbing soothing circles into the back of your hand. "So what now?"

"I don't know, but I'm willing to figure it out if you are?"

"There is nothing I'd like more,” he responds, pressing a tentative kiss to your knuckles.

Taglist

@heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr @lotusandcrystals @venussakura @synapticjive @skittleabyss @asterordinary @lariatbunny @whispering-depths @butchboi-chihuahua-slumlord @darkest-part-of-the-forest @queenofcarrotflowers-s @sessils @d20bunny@cherifrog@ophelia-ophelian @bgthree @darlingxdragon @mothynyx @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @babyqnn @mmendez0124 @kokoyu-art @lilah-asteria

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#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #bg3 #reader insert #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #baldur's gate #karlach #shadowheart #fanfic #frantic fiction

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dhampling · 1 year ago

Note

✨Feral breeding Astarion girl ✨

I am ovulating, excuse the pure amount of asks that will be in your inbox by the end of the week.

Astarion who abuses the tadpole link, using it to try and figure out what he can and can’t do. The moment he realises he can talk to his lover through such a link without anybody else hearing, he’s a tease. He’s sending sinful words down the tadpole while the camp is all eating, everyone else is talking and laughing while his poor lover is just trying to get through the meal without climbing Astarion like a tree.

Astarion having a normal conversation, maybe even bickering with someone over some minor issue. Only to be telling his lover what he would do once they’re away from prying eyes.

Maybe even sending the message accidentally to Gale, and seeing the pure look of horror on both of their faces.

Also feel free to write about whatever I send! It’s an honour for these thoughts to even be considered worthy of such treatment.

oh how i love it when you appear in my inbox my sweet angel.

ok, i like it. i see the vision. i reckon astarion would absolutely get off on being the most debauched little freak with it - describing in MINUTE DETAIL his plans for the evening together through the link. i also think he’d be pulling super lewd faces when nobody else is looking, eyes rolled back; very hammy, and yet he still looks hot?

i also reckon anything sent to gale would be a million percent intentional as a ‘back the fuck off’ kinda deal.

give me all of your ovulation thoughts my darling i will spread the good word

also i still can’t stop thinking abt the tired humping idea from the other day so trust and believe. it’s coming.

#feral breeding astarion girl anon #answered #astarion x reader #astarion

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lwiann · 1 year ago

Note

May I ask for angsty Gortash headcanons now too *does grabby hands*

1. He never mourned Durge properly. Rather, he did not have the time to. Dire times.

2. He looked for Durge in Tav when he offered that alliance but never really filled that void.

3. He's insecure with his upbringing. He's not a real noble. So he turns those insecurities into his masterpieces, in a fucked up sense. His atrocities. He genuinely believes hes doing the right thing.

4. Durge is the only one in his mind when he dies. If Durge is the one who kills him, he's a little more at peace.

5. He truly did love and care for Durge the only way he knew how. The feeling is genuine and mutual.

6. He can never let his parents go. He can't ever have them killed. They still haunt him. That's also why he dislikes the idea of Durge being so obedient to his own father, but he understands the fear. The devotion. He is a bit jealous of the love, even though it's not really a good kind of love.

7. I dont like the idea that Gortash learned to fuck in the house of hope through haarlep because he would have been ten years old and uh,,, you know... But I do like the idea that he observed, and haarlep knew young Gortash was watching, and it gave him a sort of indifferent view of sex. He sleeps around for benefits and kept an open mind regarding sex, that it can be a weapon. A tool. And he got so much of what he wanted from that. It didnt make him feel dirty or bad, but just indifferent. Like it's something he'll do not for pleasure but for duty. Nothing too intense like with Astarion. Just indifference. It wasnt until Durge that he felt an actual desire. Intense, obsessive desire. And hes figured out so many kinks with Durge lol.

I just really like the hc that he's not as sexually rabid and is actually tame about it but has the most insane unwell sex with Durge.

8. Burn scars. I recently discovered this hc from my favourite artist and i think it's so good. Some people also talk about a disability with his walking cane and I think of it a lot.

9. He's a schedule freak. He is strict with his sleep. With his meetings. With his meals. Just an obsessive guy who focuses on the littlest of details. He cant go too much because it genuinely makes him want to throw up. He has an image to maintain and hes thorough with it. He doesnt like noises during meetings. Very meticulous. Durge is freedom to him. Or just a different kind of obsession honestly.

10. There was a point in time where he planned to overthrow Bane and Bhaal to free him and durge. So they can be together. It all fell apart when durge died. It wasnt just orin's fault. It was partly his. He lost focus and vision when he lost durge, hence why it became such a mess.

#gortash #ask #durgetash #im delusional in case u dont know

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istoleyoursk1n · 1 year ago

Note

How would they all react to a Tav who reveals themselves to be a dragon in disguise?

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would they react to a Tav who reveals themselves to be a dragon in disguise?

(I’m assuming you mean they could transform into an actual Dragon or at least something Dragon-like.)

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Gods! You would have thought to tell someone about the fact that, oh, I don't know, you’re a damn fire-breathing Dragon!”

Shouted when he first saw the transformation. It came out of nowhere so he didn't expect it at all. He nearly stabbed you from the shock but thankfully retracted his dagger as soon as he realized it was you.

Irritated that you’d hide something like this from him. He wanted a warning at least!

He scolds you for keeping it secret but soon enough he takes a moment to admire the sight before him.

You appear similar to a Dragonborn but with notable different features, something that brings that all too familiar smug look on his face.

It would be useful indeed to have some sort of Dragon companion accompany them on their journey against the absolute, a companion he’d love to make use of.

Eventually comes to find the new form endearing as long as your scales don't scratch his body or your firey breath doesn't ruin his perfect hair.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

“You’re a dragon?! Out of all the things I expected to hear from you, it certainly wasn't this. Not bad news at all though!”

Oh! Well isn't that surprising!

He’s amazed, to say the least, staring in wonder at your new form.

You look incredible! Nearly as glorious as the dragons he’s envisioned in fairytales. He can barely keep his own eyes off of you.

Even more impressed seeing you fight in that form. It's so distracting that he nearly gets hit by an arrow mid battle.

He adores how mystical you look, he hopes that you stay in said form longer and allow him to live out his own little fanatical dreams he had as a boy.

Who wouldn't go on epic adventures with a dragon by your side?

Overjoyed if you do show him your firey breath or even let him fly on your back. You’re bringing his inner child back to life by doing so.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“A dragon-hyrbird..? Dragonborn? No that's not quite right. Well, whatever you are, good to know such incredible power is on our side.”

‘What the fuck?’ <— His initial reaction lmao

He’s so lost upon first seeing you transform that for a moment he thinks he's hallucinating.

Did you accidentally use some sort of spell on yourself? He seriously can't tell.

Baffled once he realizes that you did in fact transform into a dragon that he's utterly speechless.

His speechlessness is soon followed by an array of questions that may or may not overwhelm you. He’s incredibly curious now, wondering how this all works.

Do you have fiery breath? Does the transformation hurt? Can you fly? Do you have heightened senses? He just has so many!

If you do manage to entertain each and every one of his questions, he’d be delighted, incredibly fascinated by this new form and all the features that come with it.

Would love to study it more once he has the chance, perhaps you both could learn new things from it that could give them a big advantage in the coming battles.

: ̗̀➛ KARLACH

“You’re a bloody Dragon?! A dragon! Hell fucking yes! I can't believe I’m friends with a damn Dragon! An amazing one at that.”

‘WHAT THE FUCK’ (Lovingly).

Her body is set ablaze upon seeing you first transform, she just couldn't believe it.

She's so amazed by you’re form that she's practically quick stepping all over the place.

You look so cool! She spends at least a minute circling you to take in every bit of you.

She freaks the hell out if you so much as breathe fire in her direction (she thinks it's the coolest thing she's ever seen).

Her hype around your new form lasts for a long while before she eventually starts to question how this even happened to you.

I mean, were you born like this? Does it hurt? Can she touch you? Would you not feel the burn if she did? She just wants to admire and feel you! Especially you’re scales!

She becomes a grinning mess every time you spread your wings, everything about this form is something she both envies yet adores.

: ̗̀➛ SHADOWHEART

“Well, I didn't quite expect a… dragon-hybrid? To be joining us on this adventure but the surprise isn't unwelcomed.”

Similar to the rest, she's surprised.

You didn't exactly give off any sort of hint that would colorate to your dragon transformation.

Well, at least they have a dragon companion by their side now. She can’t exactly think of any cons to that.

She doubts you’d go ahead and set the entire camp ablaze now that you've and the others come so far.

She doesn't see you any differently than before if not just mildly curious about the new form.

You certainly look different but she can recognize you despite it all.

As long as this new form hasn't changed you mentally then she's okay with everything that's happening with this new change. You’re still her friend after all.

: ̗̀➛ LAE’ZEL

“Having a powerful ra’stil at my side is nothing short but honorable. Consider yourself useful in the long run. Hope that this newfound form of yours does not disappoint.”

Shocked and amazed. She'd seen red dragons before but having one of her very own travel companions as one is something she’s secretly excited by.

Her staring isn't something you can easily ignore, you can tell how much she loves this form as awkward as her gaze makes you feel at times.

She's simply admiring you, even blatantly admitting how appealing you are in her eyes in this particular form.

Even better when you use such an imposing form in battle, the way it gives you extra strength is something she's impressed by. It only adds to her admiration for you by tenfold.

I doubt she’d ever ask for it herself but if you do offer to let her fly you, she’d be ecstatic, she might even smile.

She’s always wanted a red dragon of her own, but having you isn't a bad option either. She feels more like a warrior soaring through the skies with you alongside her, something that makes her fiery heart burn with joy.

Sparring with you in this form would also be one of her favorite pastimes, getting to see such raw power up close is sure to get her to feel some form of happiness.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“I wouldn't have guessed we’d have a dragon in our midst, such mighty yet graceful beasts are nothing but a blessing to see so close. Especially one so enchanting as you.”

Surprised, but pleased!

Having a dragon companion at one’s side is an advantage sure, but this new form is quite appealing to the eye.

It's not often he gets to admire a dragon-like creature up close, especially one he's come to grow fond of.

With your permission, he’d take a moment to take you in, gazing upon your form as if it was something he’d never seen before.

He’d be curious as to how nature could have come up with such a beautiful enigma such as yourself, subtly complimenting aspects of your new form he had noticed.

He especially loves to see you fly, to witness you taking to the skies with spread-out wings, feeling the wind as you cut threw clouds.

You’re ethereal in his eyes, someone he can’t take his eyes off of in and out of this incredible form.

He would absolutely be on board with racing through the woods with you in his bear form, enjoying yourselves to your heart's content until it is time to continue on with your grand adventure.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 headcanon #bg3 x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 wyll #bg3 gale #bg3 karlach #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 lae’zel #bg3 halsin #astarion #wyll #gale #karlach #shadowheart #lae’zel #halsin

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lavenderfluorite14 · 11 months ago

Text

A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Chapter 12: Penance

Summary: The fun continues in a hidden, bloodied shrine.

Rating/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content ❤️‍🔥, BDSM, Impact Play, Flogging, Painplay, Loviatar's Blessing Scene (Baldur's Gate), Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism, Bloodplay/Vampirism, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Unprotected Sex But No Pregnancy, Sexual Abuse and Recovery, Unhealthy Attitudes Towards Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Under-negotiated Kink. Full tag list on AO3. Read on AO3. Chapter 11.

A/N:

This chapter is dedicated to all the lil freaks out there (affectionate). Letting an evil priest whip you bloody on a dirty dungeon floor at the suggestion of your crush without establishing a clear safeword is not safe or sane, please do not use this as good or appropriate BDSM etiquette or representation. Please only use this as porn :)) And if this is not your jam, don't worry! Currently, this is the only chapter that will have heavy BDSM elements, although I do plan to continue to explore certain themes. We will be back to our regularly scheduled program soon.

The inner sanctum of the defiled temple is another den of debauchery, but of an even darker sort. The familiar scent of charred flesh fills the air and the even more familiar sound of screaming drifts in and out as they carefully make their way through the bowels of the ruin. In the middle of the chamber, a goblin booyhag stands over bright coals, heating up what appears to be a branding iron. They all give her a wide berth.

“By my Dark Lady, this place is a labyrinth,” Shadowheart wonders aloud. Despite her amazement, Shadowheart’s words carry an unmistakable note of disdain.

The scent of fresh blood fills Astarion’s nostrils as they pick their way up a narrow flight of stairs. “There’s blood in the air. The blood of a thinking creature,” he whispers to Tav. He leads them to a dark alcove.

“Halsin?” Tav calls quietly into the darkness. As they peer into the shadows a figure stirs, rising to its feet.

“I’ve met few aside from goblins here. Have you come to assist with the prisoner?” a deep, rough voice answers. A man emerges from the gloom, clutching a flail that drips a steady stream of blood. His handsome face is scarred with deep gashes and his cool eyes glitter with an expectant gleam. His robe is a curious garment littered with barbs and thorns that dig into his exposed chest, drawing blood with each movement. The droplets well and gather against his pricked flesh like precious, pendulous rubies. One bloody bead breaks free, sliding down his pec to splatter against the stone floor. Astarion digs his teeth into the inside of his lip at the indecent display.

This man is a follower of Loviatar, Goddess of Pain. He glances over to Shadowheart, who must also recognize the stranger’s dark, distinctive raiment. There is a heaviness in her gaze and a twitch to her lip that suggests that Shadowheart is also deeply familiar with pain.

“What prisoner?” Tav probes.

“The gentleman being held next door. My acquaintance is working on him, I believe.” A scream pierces their conversation, reverberating through the stone halls until it is a distorted wail. Whatever they are doing to that man does not sound pleasant.

“While I was thrilled to be invited here, I must confess I find goblins and their methods-" he pauses, trying to find the right words, “…crude and primitive.” He smiles a tight, patronizing smile. “Pain without purpose is a terrible thing, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I thought a follower of Loviatar would approve of pain,” Tav answers. Astarion can’t help but eye her curiously. What does a pretty little bard know about such a dark goddess?

“You know the Maiden of Pain? How refreshing,” the priest smiles. “But there is more to us than that. Yes, we worship her through pain, often our own. But it is an intimate and loving thing we offer up,” he insists.

Astarion doesn’t know about all that. He wouldn’t describe any of the pain Cazador inflicted as loving . No matter what Cazador had said. At least Cazador’s punishments had been fun to watch, when they weren’t intended for him.

“But trying to discuss such subtleties with these creatures is…” the man trails off as his eyes rake over Tav, appraising her. “But I could show you such subtleties first-hand,” he offers with a sly, knowing smile. “If you would permit it, of course.”

Both Shadowheart and Astarion perk up at the audacious suggestion. They share an incredulous, almost excited, look. Is he truly suggesting what they think he is suggesting?

“How?” Tav asks, a touch breathless.

“Through penance, administered by my skilled hand, as the Maiden of Pain teaches us,” he explains with self-satisfied pride.

Shadowheart smirks at Astarion, a dark glimmer in her eye. He is suggesting what they think he is suggesting. He knows that look: excitement, interest, lust . Shadowheart wants to watch this too. In tandem, they glance over to Tav, who shifts back and forth on the balls of her feet restlessly.

“And why would I do that?” Tav asks dismissively. But her tone is a touch too aloof, too coy. It doesn’t match her agitated body language.

“Because my work can grant peace and serenity - the likes of which few experience. It will be worth it, I promise,” the man reassures her. His unctuous voice drips with an infectious enthusiasm. “Pain is a powerful and sacred sensation, and should we delight our Mistress - should we embrace such a gift - she will grant her most sacred of blessings.”

“Go ahead, I’m sure you’re in need of a little penance,” Shadowheart encourages airily, her proposal a blade wrapped in silk. Tav jumps in surprise, but Astarion snakes a grounding arm around her waist, anchoring Tav between them.

“I must see this. Don’t you dare say no,” he wheedles petulantly. He cannot keep a small, wicked grin from his lips. Tav looks up at him and any hesitation she may have had melts away from her features when she sees his hungry expression. She looks to Shadowheart, who gives an enticing nod. Tav nods back.

“I must admit, I am quite curious,” Tav confesses. “And I’ll take any blessing I can get at this point.”

A red-hot coal of desire ignites in Astarion’s belly at the idea of Tav, submissive and bloody, willingly prostrating herself before them. That fantasy stokes his darkest instincts, the part of him that yearns to take and take until he is finally satisfied. Until he finally has his due. And if Tav is willing, then there is no reason why he shouldn’t enjoy the show. Perhaps Tav really is a little deviant after all, like he had originally guessed when she had offered him her blood for nothing in return. What a pleasant diversion this could be.

“I saw your book, priest. Let’s try some of those teachings on your newest convert,” Shadowheart suggests, taking charge effortlessly. Lae’Zel stands back, watching them all with doubtful curiosity.

“My, such eager students I have found. Those are advanced devotions.” He crosses over to a stone table, thumbing the text reverently. “The Mistress would approve,” he murmurs. He turns eagerly back to Tav, gesturing smoothly to the implements arranged neatly on the table. He’s brought a small armory of weapons with him. “Indicate which instrument calls to you, and then let us put it to work,” he grins.

“Let me pick,” Astarion interjects excitedly. Tav hesitates, but only briefly.

“Alright. I trust you,” she says. Something gentle flutters inside of him at her misplaced, absurd words.

“Trust is an essential element of the Mistress’s teachings,” the priest explains approvingly. “Trust in our bodies. In our ability to endure her glorious agony. “ His grin widens. “And trust in our betters to only inflict what we can endure.”

Astarion strolls over to the table, examining all of the Loviatan accouterments with a detached air that is utterly feigned. The variety is truly staggering, ranging from the sophisticated to the medieval. So many delicious options. How fun to be the one choosing the punishment rather than receiving the punishment.

His hand lingers on a knife quite similar to his own, which is part of its appeal. A brief memory from that awful night flickers in his mind and he quickly flinches away. Astarion can almost feel his scars burning through his armor. He doesn’t want that kind of pain for Tav. Instead, Astarion finds himself drawn to a much more traditional implement. Something that will hurt, but that can be healed quickly with their magic. Something that they will both enjoy. He plucks a whip off the table, marveling at its supple leather tail. It feels light and agile in his hands.

Cazador had not favored flogging. He had preferred more creative cruelties.

“A very, very fine choice,” the priest purrs approvingly. He takes the whip from Astarion and steps back, effortlessly cracking the thong. Lae’Zel chks at the demonstration.

“I’d criticize your lack of imagination, but you’ve chosen surprisingly well,” Shadowheart teases.

“I have excellent taste, if I do say so myself,” Astarion smirks.

“You do,” Tav says, blushing furiously. If he had any blood himself, he suspects he would be blushing too. Gods, she’s so pretty when all that marvelous blood rushes to her face.

“Both Loviatar and I are interested in how you handle pain, dear one. And should you please her, she will grant her most sacred of blessings. Just face the wall and we can begin,” the priest instructs with barely contained enthusiasm.

Tav looks back to Shadowheart, who tilts her chin towards the wall imperiously. Then she looks to Astarion, and a flicker of hesitation crosses her features. He knows that look. Astarion crosses to her, cupping her cheek in his hand.

“Is everything alright, darling?” He caresses her warm cheek with his thumb. “Can you be a good girl for us?” He asks lowly. Tav nods. “I need you to say it, my treasure.”

“Yes,” she says. “I’ve always wanted to try something like this, I don’t know why I’m suddenly nervous,” she reveals. “I suppose I just didn’t think my first time would be in a goblin war camp.”

“I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” he coos, perhaps a touch too patronizingly.

“We will be here the whole time,” Shadowheart chimes in. Lae’Zel is a silent but attentive sentinel behind them. “And I will heal you up afterward. You have nothing to fear.“

“Thank you,” Tav says, smiling at each of them.

“Good girl.” Astarion releases her. “Now, all that being said, don’t forget to put on a good show,” he reminds her, flashing a fanged smile.

“Yes. The only thing to fear here is boring us,” Shadowheart says lightly.

“A show? Is that what you want?” Tav asks. Her fingers find the buttons on her gaudy jerkin. Slowly she pops each one open, revealing the swell of her breasts and the soft plane of her abdomen to her captivated audience. Slipping out of her armor, she drops it carelessly on the floor before them. Hinging at the waist, she slowly bends over, sliding her ridiculous striped leggings over the full curve of her ass. When she straightens Tav is in nothing but her underwear, which still covers far too much skin for Astarion’s liking.

“I just don’t want to ruin my clothes,” she says innocently. “I want to feel it all.”

Each one of them eyes her body, admiring her shapely form openly. The priest’s eyes rake over her approvingly, but he doesn’t flinch at her boldness. Astarion suspects that a half-naked woman asking to be whipped must be routine for him.

Tav slowly turns to the wall, placing her palms against the smooth stone with finality. “I’m ready,” she declares, planting her feet. Her smooth, unmarred back and plump bottom look perfect, even in the dim light. The priest smiles.

“Then we shall begin,” he says.

The priest strikes Tav across her back, the whip cracking thunderously through the air despite its small size. Tav yelps in surprise as the lash strikes her flesh, a cry that morphs into a scream of pain. Her scream sets Astarion’s teeth on edge and sends a shiver of delight surging through him.

“The pain you suffer will cleanse you - do not fight it!” The priest calls to her. He changes position, moving to strike her from the opposite side. The whip cracks across her back again and Tav lets out another delicious cry, convulsing in agony. Her arms tremble with strain and her nails dig into the rock, but she remains in position, trying her best to withstand the harsh blows.

Shadowheart leans in conspiratorially. “Would you have joined up with her if you had known she would be indulging this sort of thing, Astarion?” Her voice is laced with amusement. He leans in as well, meeting her halfway.

“I mean, I had my hopes,” he smirks. He makes sure his voice carries, loud enough for Tav to hear. There is something inside of Astarion that revels in this feeling of power, of authority, at seeing another person laid so low beneath him for his entertainment and pleasure. It makes his blood hot and his cock hard in a way that should be shameful, but Astarion had been deprived of so many things for so long that he unapologetically finds pleasure, no matter how dubious, wherever he can find it. And of course, he loves seeing blood spilled. Perhaps this is all just an extension of his vampirism.

Shadowheart has no such excuse though. What had those Sharrans done to her in their secretive little shadow cult? He wonders for a moment if he should feel jealous that Shadowheart is enjoying this as much as he is, but so far she seems content to merely watch. Astarion can handle a few lewd looks.

This time the priest aims lower, dragging the whip across her buttocks. Tav wails in pain, finally buckling against the wall. Tears prick her eyes, threatening to fall down her cheeks. The lower body was generally a fleshier part of the body that can better withstand blows, but it also has some very, very sensitive nerve endings. Astarion wants to run his fingers over her pained flesh, feel her whimper at his featherlight touch before digging his fingers into her purple bruises.

“That’s it, dear one! Let Loviatar hear you!” The priest roars, as if in ecstasy. He strikes her again, harder than the last time, across the meat of her thigh. Finally, he draws blood. Astarion digs his fingernails into his hand as he watches it pour down her leg in an obscene waterfall. The priest thrashes her again, giving her no quarter, this time breaking the skin across her back. Tav shrieks in pain, sobbing against the wall as she bleeds. But she still doesn’t cry for help. Astarion imagines himself against her, lapping against her wounds, comforting her with his tongue.

“My, my, who knew our friend had so much blood in them,” Astarion marvels.

“Try not to lick your lips as you say that,” Shadowheart responds. She leans in further. “And are you sure she’s just a friend?” Astarion ignores her jab, focusing on the spectacle before them.

“You are doing so well! Do not give in now!” The priest screams. He brings the whip down on her again and Tav screams a beautiful, ear-shattering scream.

“Don’t wear her out entirely priest, I may have use for her yet,” Shadowheart heckles from the sidelines. Astarion casts her a sidelong glance. Is that bluster or is there intent behind her comment? He can’t be sure, and that concerns him.

The priest strikes her one last time across the ass and this time Tav calls for mercy, sagging against the wall in a bloody heap. The priest breathes a deep, satisfied sigh as he lowers his whip.

“Sweet child, you bore the pain like a true believer. I could feel Loviatar’s pleasure with every strike.” He inclines his head towards Tav in a reverent nod. “I am proud to have served you this penance.” Tav picks herself up carefully, wincing with every movement. The priest lays his hands firmly on her shoulders, which begin to glow with a sinister red light. When the blessing is imparted, he draws back.

“And on a personal note, thank you. That was positively divine,” he croons.

“You are welcome. I….I learned a lot about myself,” Tav says, panting heavily. Turning, Tav musters up the courage to face both Shadowheart and Astarion, who watch her with calculatedly composed expressions. Tav stares at them expectantly.

“Well, whatever you are into,” Shadowheart says glibly. Tav stares at her incredulously and Astarion has to stop the chuckle forming in his throat. As if she hadn’t enjoyed every moment of Tav’s torment.

“This planet certainly has strange customs,” Lae’Zel finally comments into the strained silence. She seems more confused by the encounter than anything else.

“Give me just a moment,” Tav says, deflating, wobbling over to her pile of clothes. This time she simply crouches down instead of bending over provocatively. She gingerly pulls on her jerkin, flinching as the fabric brushes against her skin. “We should check on that prisoner the priest mentioned. It could be Halsin.” Already Tav is trying to slip back into the role of a capable, completely normal leader. He’s a little sorry to see this new, fragile side of her disappear so quickly.

Tav had done this to please him. For other dubious personal reasons, yes, but she had surrendered herself to the mercy of a mad priest for his enjoyment. A deep shiver of pleasure courses through him, settling into his pelvis.

“An excellent idea. Why don’t the two of you take a peek around that corner and see what in the sweet hells they are doing to poor Halsin, and I’ll stay here and get Tav all cleaned up,” Astarion suggests.

“I’m the cleric, I can easily heal her,” Shadowheart says, her hands already glowing blue.

“It’s ok, Shadowheart, I don’t want you to use any of your magic on this little misadventure. I have a healing potion I can take,” Tav insists. Shadowheart looks at her skeptically.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise. I’m already feeling better.” Shadowheart raises a sculpted eyebrow.

“And we may need you later. We’re not out of the woods yet,” Tav clarifies. She straightens up. “That’s a good idea, Astarion. Shadowheart and Lae’Zel, go scout ahead and see if Halsin is next door. We’ll join you as soon as I’ve recovered.”

“Fine,” Shadowheart says, relaxing her casting stance. “But you both had better join us. Soon .” She looks between the two of them in warning. “Come on, Lae’Zel. Let’s do some actual work around here.” Lae’Zel moves quickly, eager to be away from this odd, uncomfortable scene.

As soon as the pair leave, Astarion grabs Tav’s arm and pulls her around a corner and into another small room, away from prying eyes. “Let me see, my darling,” Astarion says, his nimble fingers already working at the buttons of her jerkin. He slips it off gently, spinning her around so he can better see her wounded back. Bruises are already forming underneath the angry welts left by the whip. Blood weeps from her broken skin, streaming down her body in a river of crimson. Astarion curses under his breath at the exquisite sight.

“How does it look?” Tav asks, a little nervously.

“Hells below, that priest truly beat you bloody,” he says. Tav laughs a pained little huff.

“The ‘Maiden of Pain’ certainly lived up to her name,” she mutters. She cranes her neck to look back at him. “Did you enjoy the show?” Tav asks. Astarion’s hands clutch her waist. He’s careful not to pull her against him, despite the urge.

“It was fine, for a first act,” he says flippantly. He traces his index finger up her back, swiping through a trickle of blood with the pad of his finger. He sucks the digit into his mouth, savoring the rich taste of her blood. He stifles a low groan. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, hm?” he suggests. Tav nods, bracing herself again against the stone wall. “Astarion, please-"

“AHEM!!!”

A garrulous cough cuts through the air. Tav frantically tries to cover herself as they both whirl around to face the source of the noise.

Volothamp Geddarm leans against the bars of an admittedly well-constructed goblin cage, eyeing them up and down with both offended shock and scandalous intrigue.

“Volo! Are you alright?” Tav pants, re-buttoning her armor with haste.

“Oh, I’m as happy as a clam! Just enjoying the luxurious accommodations of my generous hosts,” he says.

“Astarion, can you-” Tav begins.

“With pleasure,” Astarion mutters sardonically, already bending down to pick the shoddy lock with ease. The door pops open and Volo lets out a jolly laugh.

“I am quite saved! Thank you, my fine friends. I guarantee the story of your rescue of my person will live on for aeons,” he promises with a flourishing bow.

“Don’t forget, it’s Tav and Astarion,” Tav reminds him excitedly. Volo scowls.

“That will sound ridiculous. But fine, if you insist. As much as it pains me to cede creative control. Still, once I’ve written you into my books, there won’t be a tavern in Faerûn where you won’t receive a hero’s welcome!” Astarion rolls his eyes at Volo’s boasting. As if a vampire spawn would ever be seen as a hero.

“Come now, we mustn’t tarry, surely you must have a camp nearby? Somewhere we can conduct a private interview once we’ve both slipped the goblin yoke?” Tav explains where they have made camp in a starstruck jumble of words and Volo vanishes with a swift sip of an invisibility potion, promising to pick their brains later. As soon as he is gone, Astarion pounces on Tav.

“Now, where were we?” Astarion says, reaching for the buttons on Tav’s armor. “Ah yes, right about here.” He slips her coat off and leads her to the wall, placing her hands against it. He covers her hand with his own, leaning in close to her ear. “You were begging for me.”

“Astarion, please,” she groans, arching her back and pressing her ass against him, grinding herself against his stiffness. “Are you sure? We’ll be caught-”

“Not if we’re quick and quiet, my sweet.” He plants a kiss on her tailbone, kissing his way up her naked spine. He takes meandering detours, lapping up rivulets of blood, following wherever they lead him. He peppers her body with bloody kisses, which in turn need to be licked up and swallowed down. When his mouth finally finds her wound he traces it adoringly with tongue, shivering at the taste of fresh blood. Unthinkingly he grinds against her ass, rubbing his pleasure against her. Tav whimpers and flinches as he works, in pain and overstimulated, but still meeting his thrusts halfway. When he senses it is too much he pulls away, crouching down behind her.

“But what I really want to see is this,” he says, pulling down her leggings. Her smallclothes are a damp mess and her thigh sports an irritated, red gash where the whip cut her. He dives in, licking up the bloody mess of her cut with zeal. She tastes so sweet, her skin is so soft to the touch. As he loses himself he removes his leather gloves, stroking her wetness over the flimsy fabric. Tav groans and buries her face in her arms, which are still propped against the wall. He slips underneath the fabric and slides his fingers inside her, roughly pumping against her secret, perfect spot. Almost immediately her legs begin to tremble and Tav bites her lip to stop herself from crying out. Soon, she comes around his fingers. Tav collapses against the wall, panting with pleasure.

Sated on blood at last, Astarion withdraws his fingers and replaces them with his tongue, licking her drenched flower with gentle kitten licks as Tav returns to her senses. He fumbles with his buckle, pulling his cock out and pumping himself furiously. He’s so close, he so close -

“You can fuck me,” Tav moans. “If you want-"

Astarion is already standing up, kicking her legs even further apart and positioning himself behind her. He pushes himself into her, a touch rougher than he had intended, and a pretty ngh! of effort escapes Tav’s lips. Astarion begins a fast and deep rhythm, trying and failing to stay quiet. A breathy, embarrassing whine escapes him on accident but he’s able to catch the subsequent ones, lowering them to rough grunts of pleasure. He tangles a hand in her hair, gripping the follicles at their base, firmly pulling Tav’s head back towards him. Now Tav is the one to whine in shameful ecstasy.

“I should have known,” he chokes out between thrusts. He tightens his grip on her hair and Tav releases another pitiful mewl. “I should have known my love was such a slut for pain.” Tav whimpers in admission. He lowers himself over her, his mouth at her ear. His pace quickens, plunging completely into her with every thrust. “Is that why you’re consorting with a vampire?” He nips at her, scraping his fangs against the shell of her ear. She shudders against him. “Is that why you like my bite so much, darling?” He mouths at her neck, teasing the sensitive skin with his pointed teeth.

“Astarion!” Tav comes again, her pussy gripping his cock in tight, incredible contractions. It’s too much, it’s just too much.

“Fuck, I’m - !”

Astarion comes in thick hot ropes, emptying himself deep inside of her as she shivers with her own orgasm. He thrusts a few more times, milking both their peaks for all they are worth. But as the potent rush of endorphins wanes, he is left with a bone-deep hollowness that feels like pyrrhic victory. He slowly releases his hold on Tav’s hair and slides out of her, removing himself from her wet warmth. His cum drips out of her, pooling with her blood on the stones below.

He quickly tucks himself away, buttoning up his trousers with quick precision. He takes in Tav’s disheveled appearance, her whipped and battered body, and feels the smallest surge of pride and satisfaction at being the one to dominate this time. He took what he wanted. She submitted to him and was happy to do so, a win-win. And if he’s done his job, then this degradation will still advance the plan.

This is how the world works.

Tav stands and turns to face him, still a bloody mess despite his thorough attentions. Cupping his cheek, she presses her lips to his. The kiss is soft but firm, her mouth moving against his own with unyielding gentleness. When she breaks the kiss, she pulls his forehead down to rest against her own.

“You don’t have to hold back. Not with me,” she whispers so only he can hear. Astarion stiffens, recalling the uncomfortable honesty of the morning. What she asks for is impossible.

“If I didn’t I would kill you,” he answers, just as quietly.

Tav giggles. “Well, then, maybe hold yourself back a little.”

If he fed until he was full, he would kill her. The Hunger is relentless. He will never be sated.

And if he told her the rest, he would break her beautiful little heart. He will not be responsible for that. Not until he has to be. His mess is too disgusting, too shameful to see the light of day.

She wraps her arms around him, holding him close. “But I meant what I said. All of it,” she insists again. Astarion returns her embrace. For a moment they stay like this, Astarion fully armored, Tav bloody and half-naked, just holding each other.

“Here, my darling, let’s truly get you cleaned up now.” His voice is shockingly tender to his ears.

Several healing potions and two prestidigitation spells later, Tav and Astarion round a corner to see Shadowheart laying a red hot poker against a screaming man’s side as Lae’Zel looks on in tacit approval.

“Holy hells, what are you two doing!?” Tav yells, rushing forward.

“Took you long enough. We have questioned the prisoner and found Halsin’s location,” Lae’Zel reports.

“The prisoner says there are dungeons even deeper than this one in the temple. Pens, where they keep the worgs. Halsin could be there,” Shadowheart explains.

“Good job, I guess?” Tav says, rubbing her temples in frustration and disgust. “Astarion, will you-“

“Are you sure you don’t have any more questions for the prisoner?” Astarion asks cheekily, half chuckling.

“Absolutely not. Now go free him,” Tav orders. “Still so bossy,” Astarion returns, picking the shackles effortlessly. The man falls from the rack, moaning with pain as he hits the floor.

“Wait,” Tav suddenly remembers. “Did you tell them anything about The Grove-” “No, I didn’t say a thing,” the man who must be Liam says, scrambling to his feet despite the pain. There’s a frantic look in his eyes, an animal instinct to bolt to freedom, “Thank you, thank you, I won’t forget this!” Liam rushes off into the darkness of the dungeon, disappearing down a cave tunnel.

~ The dungeons are easy enough to find. All they have to do is keep moving down, down, down. When they push open the heavy wooden doors, there is a joyous squeal of goblin children and a ferocious roar of animal pain. In one of the cramped cells a beast bares its teeth, bristling with rage as goblins poke and prod it with sharpened sticks.

An elf with the presence of a bear.

Halsin.

Chapter 13: Party

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion fanfiction #astarion smut #astarion smut with a lot of plot #Loviatar's Love #Loviatar's Blessing Scene #a taste of plums #abdirak #the smallest dash of astarion x tav x shadowheart #astarion #astarion ancunin #the night shift

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