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mahiiimahiiii · 2 months

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the less i know the better

Cw/: hurt & comfort, sloppy “I’m sorry for being rude” sex, service top gale, body image issues, shapeshifters and enchanters have some things to discuss, multiple orgasms, some crying, taking care of each other, piv, durges previous encounters, mentions of durges necrophilia, gortash ruins relationships like no one’s business, mentions of squirting and intense orgasms, durge is in they feels.

a/n: i would like to have a big bath, like swimming pool sized. we didn't get a beach or bathhouse episode so i took it upon myself.

what do we want??? Service top gale!!! When do we want it?? At a decent time!!!! I’m pretty sure I pinched my shoulder at the gym and it stingssss. Please play the world’s tiniest violin in my honor. I love bathhouse scenes, so I hope y’all enjoy this one.

(durge is a wood elf storm sorcerer, once again they are brown with loose curls at chin length hair)

(read on a03 or below the cut!)

(if you like what i write- please consider donating to my ko-fi!)

“You could’ve told me that one of your alias’s was lady gortash sooner.” Gale’s voice soured slightly, as you shuffled back into the tiled specialty changing room. You dispelled a few things, taking a few shuddering breaths.

“How was I supposed to know.” Your steps are a bit shorter as you step out of your boots. Hair once silver returning to a charcoal black. The crimson left its stain on your eyes, its color pulsing with every anxious heartbeat.

“You didn’t know what? You’d think something as important as being spoken for would be remembered.” His back turned to you as he worked on un-buttoning his robe, the stiff white collar of his shirt slowly revealed.

you held your head in your hands, rubbing the khol around your eyes. Your previously too perfect features dissipating, revealing the molted and decaying flesh underneath. As you stared at your own face in the mirror, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, you blinked them back. “It’s not…it never was like that.” Your voice warbled more than you thought it would. The reflection that stared back at you in the large vanity mirror looked pitiful.

“Oh.” His tone softened, “Avi…I didn’t mean to push.” He turned around, hesitant to approach. His eyes were round pools of emotion. Your ears twitch at the sound of your own chosen name, one gale insisted you find- he qualified his nagging on saying ‘the dark urge isn’t a great name for such a gorgeous person.’

“I didn’t know it would hurt this much, I felt… a stinging loss when I saw him. It got worse, when I got called that. Urgh- I don’t like this very much. Feeling like this. Unhappy.” Tears began to roll down your cheeks staining your skin with dark burgundy and black smears. You wiped them on your robe’s sleeves, setting your head in your hands again.

He placed a warm hand on your back, rubbing small circles.

“It’s ok to cry, I do it a lot.” He chuckled softly, kissing the crown of your head. He inhaled your hair’s scent, draping himself over you. A few tears trailed down your cheeks, you buried your head into your arms.

“You must think me weak.” The steaks of enchanted silver that danced in your hair faded into deep brown. Your ears shortened their length not as elegant, bones popped and reshaped, freckles and moles began to fade onto your skin. Scars, and marks and all. Your hair returned, short curly and shaggy, you looked now like a typical wood elf. What you were bred to be. Unremarkable.

“Not at all really…” he curled a strand of hair behind your twitching ear, the pads of his finger ghosting the fragile flesh. “Let me embrace you fully, it’s what you deserve.” His breath brushed against your ears; your skin itched under his touch. “It’s my apology.” His voice was light, “to show… my devotion to you.”

“You needn’t do any of that.” You chided, pushing in the chair, your robes hung off of you slightly. “I don’t wish to become another idolization, I’m but a mere mortal.”

“Nothing but mere, and anything but mortal.” He twirled a curl of yours, fingers braided in your hair. He cups your chin, tilting his head his pupils wide. His lips curled up into an easy smile. “You are mine, despite having… a rather unfortunate birth parent.” He giggled. He led you to the chair that draped his clothes, you curled up, embraced by his cloaks scent. He unlaced his sleeves, and the side of his shirt, finally tossing it at your head. You tucked it behind your head, watching his nimble hands remove his taught pants, the golden buttons glinting in the light. He stepped out of them, his calves flexing as he moved. It left him in his bloomers, which shimmered and crackled with weave. You had seen him in this state of undress multiple times before, every time it felt like the first, a breath of fresh air, an embrace, an urge much sweeter than the ones embedded in your flesh and crawled along your spine. He hummed, unlacing his underwear, again throwing them at your head. Should you be gross? You held it to your nose and inhaled, a rumble rising through your chest. a sound akin to a moan rose from gale’s throat. They smelt of sweat, ozone, and rosemary oil.

Of course, he applied rosemary oil to his crotch. He stretched, bending over as his bones stretched under his skin. “Come, sit up. Let me help you.” You followed his command, he worked diligently to unlace the corset that held your robes together. “I do rather like this look on you. Plum is such a becoming color.” His lips tickled your neck as he placed a knee fearfully close to your slowly heating core. “You look gorgeous, like this.” He kissed a mole on your cheek and another on your forehead; “much better than pretending to be something your not.” He removed the corset with ease,

his fingers hooking under your robe. He wiggled it over your head, a similar wrap shirt that he wore clad your shoulders. He sharply inhaled at the realization that that you didn’t wear your usual camisole underneath. Your breast peaks and nipples erect. “Oh, my love, what you do to me.” He kissed up your chin to the corner of your mouth, his hands slipping to the sides of your shirt to loosen the wrap.

You exhaled, leaning into his touch. Perhaps this was the one person able to make your urges feel at bay, to feel safe. A thought creeped into the back of your mushy skull, what if he wasn’t. The easy smile the lord held, his posture- warm and inviting. The sweetness he held in his eyes, how his hand caressed your shoulders, fell at your hips and drew you in. You could taste him, you could remember his scent, embedded in every primal part of your head. He smelt deeper than gale, whiskey and crude oil, musk and amber. Your skin itched to taste his sweat, and the coppery tang your tongue knew so well. to trace the bites of the blade along his hips and stomach, the almond scented paint that clung to your hair. The clench of his thighs along your shoulders. You felt disgusting, fantasizing about another man’s touch in the presence of the one you loved.

“Gale- stop for a second.” You noted a flash of concern in his eye, he knelt back down again, tilting his head in a silent question. Tears budded again, as you held your head in your hands. “I am ashamed. I can’t… I’m terrified of my own thoughts. Flashes I see the lord, in the way I see you now. He will not leave, be gentler- and diligent” you paused trying to think how to phrase it. “To possibly… take my mind off things.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, “perhaps we should establish something, and you’re sweet for saying that. I’m glad you felt safe enough to tell me.” He sat back on his haunches. “Perhaps… the shower will help? Ill leave you to finish undressing if you feel uncomfortable.” He squeezed your shoulders, kissing your forehead. “I’ll depart for now then. Come join me when you feel ready.” His movements were fluid, hands drawing a sharp sigh from your lips. He left through the open doorway into the showers. His nails scratched against the doorway; your core ached immaculately. You finished off his work, the dark plum verses bright magenta robes draped against each other on the chair. You felt oddly exposed without your enchanted spells guarding you, waddling into the cedar and teakwood showers you felt more at peace. Gale was nowhere to be seen, but a satisfied groan emanated from the bright hallway ahead. You settled down on the stool testing the water on your hand before handling the wand. The water smooth and warm against your skin. The soaps and skin serums to remove dirt and dead skin smelt herbal. Tonics infused with healing potions, an intriguing way to go about things. You scrubbed your skin until it was red and raw, you felt clean but not clean enough. You sat in the steam of

the water for a moment, debating on continuing forward. You decided too, the warmth of the light and the pools beyond beckoning you forward.

The light was blinding once stepping out the hallway, plants and fauna lined the tiles surrounding the baths, a plush bed with towels and robes on top of it. a table next to it and a patterned robe with tassels. Candles, sherry and crystal goblets, candies and small sandwiches, a platter with fresh fruits and perfumes, and bottles that shone like gems. Gortash really pulled the full 9 yards. Towered over the bath, curiously was a statue of Mystra, her gaze focused on the bath itself, arms outstretched in a surrounding gesture, the sun perfectly framed around her head. It was almost reminiscent of a greenhouse. Gales head peaks between the waves of foam. He floated upwards, paddling to the side of the bath to grip the edge and prop his head in his arms.

“Feeling better?” he beamed, rose petals and violets clung to his hair, they floated on the surface of the foam. You walked towards the steps, dipping your toe in carefully. It was a wonderful temperature.

“a little.” You hum, lowering your weary limbs in the water. “it’s a little unnerving to have a statue of my partner’s ex staring at my naked form. I feel judged.”

“Often statues of Mystra are depicted with her eyes closed…” he swam closer to you, “I am... uncertain why this one is open, perhaps its just another god that looks similar.”

“Let us hope it’s just that.” You settled on a side edge seat, the sun a warm lazy glow on your skin, a warm and floral breeze churned the air. He almost seated himself in your lap, his head tucked into the alcove of your neck, his face a mottled pink from the hot water. His eyes laid shut; his breath warm against your chin. You leaned your head against the tile, allowing him the access to fully intwine with your limbs. You began to become drowsy, tapping his shoulder you escorted him to the bed, comfortably placed within a warm sunbeam.

You both curled up again like lizards on a hot rock. An overwhelming sense of contented sleepiness taking hold of you. Your dreams, or what you could call them flitted with the same images of the man, contented to a stretch within your core- they filled you with bliss. His voice moved against your senses like molasses, crashing wave after wave as his blunt nails dug into his skin. He smelt of crude oil again, wearing a black undershirt underneath his overalls that hung off the dips of his hips, the pale skin contrasted with dark moles on the edges of his thighs. His

nose was buried in your neck, one of his hands covering your mouth and nose the scent of gasoline making you lightheaded.

Keep quiet his voice hissed in your recesses, you bit down on his hand, drooling onto his fingers like a fool. Another snap of his hip’s heaven sent to your core.

He suggested a bath after making a mess of your temple attire, his warm hands scratched your scalp in the cool night of the moon.

His poor bhaalist, his assassin, right hand to the tyrant, his.

You slept on the cool bed curled up on his chest, nose crested his sternum listening to his sighs and mumbling as he slept.

But that was under the moon, you lived in the sun now,

You stretched your legs out a pinging pain setting off in your calf. he muttered, adjusting his body to snuggle closer. His legs intertwined with yours, a throbbing heat coming from his crotch, you could feel the weight on your thigh- a gentle twitch now ang again.

“Gale- “you whisper.

“Mmph.” Was his plain response, rolling over to face you, his eyes closed shut. He had a slow and easy smile on his lips. Rain began to patter on the big glass roof, the vibration of the droplets making small ripples and rivulets from the puddles that gathered. You traced the curve of his chest, your fingers knitted through the hair on his skin.

“Do you love me, gale.”

An eye snapped open. He began to laugh, loud and throaty his cheeks pink. “what a silly question!” His tone changed, one more serious and concerned. “Is something troubling you? A thought deeming you not worthy of my affections?” He raised his brow.

“More memories.” You rub your eyes, “the lord permeates most of them, I feel… disgusting to say the least.”

“it’s not your fault- “he rubs your shoulder, his fingers tracing the soft scars from your flaying. “You had no memory, and frankly that was previous- you don’t mind my discussion of Mystra, so I won’t mind your discussion of… gortash.” He pauses, chewing his inner cheek. “Tell me about him, little love.” You were the one to pause, closing your eyes, searching for the best recollection. “His skin was warm, for once. It made an aching difference in my heart. The only flesh I’ve touched was to consume, or in an act of kill. This was even not to say- that those I’ve killed were simply safe in death. I’ve rutted against and filled with- the same cooled flesh. Malleable,

stiff to the touch. Cold.” You shiver out of instinct. “He liked how I looked without the glamor; he said I was beautiful. He told me I was pretty.” A tear pricks at your eye, you warbled slightly continuing your thought. “no one has told me that before. A part of me felt- that glamor was the only way to command respect. Who would respect the most common creature? Not gifted with power and strength like Sarveok, or fantastic shape changing like Orin. A part of me thinks he’s lying, as is his nature. But Enver- Gortash, I know he was hurting too. It makes it worse, those shared moments we had.”

“You were gifted with plenty more than your family ever will have. Orin isn’t the least bit as beautiful, in my frank opinion. I never liked the silver hair on you, clashes too much with your eyes.” He cups your chin, his thumb stroking absently at the sides of his chin.

“Tell me how I look then, in this form.” You plead softly.

He sighs dreamily before beginning. “What I see is a witty and intelligent person. their skin dotted with freckles like the night sky. A mole on the most kissable spots on their face. Pretty and rosy cheeks, greater in hue than any in a garden. A voice like a ringing bell, or the clink of a crystal goblet filled with wine. Their skin as brown as a deep butterscotch, its taste smoother than any whiskey. Don’t get me started on your scent- “

You giggle, kissing his lips sweetly. “No- do, I’m enjoying it.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, “oh I will, but if you insist…” he kisses your nose, rolling you onto your back, your thighs seated on his low hips. He bent down adding kisses as emphasis with his words. “you’ve always smelt like the weave- fresh and bright like citrus fruits.”

“Must be the oranges I eat for breakfast.”

“Oh, hush you- “he kisses you, his hands wrapping into your long curly locks. His lips trail down your chin to your neck, he inhaled deeply. “One thing I do not like is your adult name you chose, with your 50 years of living and you chose ‘Avrice.’”

“It sounds nice- “you insisted. You were 50, which was around late 20’s early 30’s for a human.

“My sweetest love- do you know what ‘Avrice’ means.” He asked within your neck, to this you shrug. He snorts within your skin, placing small kisses on the alcove of your neck. “It means greed.”

“Explains a lot. I’m certainly greedy for your affections. I’m greedy to not be known as just-another-bhaalspawn. I am more than bountiful in company- I lust after all that life has to offer.”

he laughed again, his voice like the warm roar of the hearth, “indeed you are my love, indeed you are.”

“Can I try… something else, I’m in the mood, I think.” He hummed; his gaze soft.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” You replied sarcastically, shifting your thigh up. The pressure earned a soft groan from him.

“You know how I don’t last as long as you? I have a small idea on that end. Perhaps I start you off sooner, if that makes sense.”

“I’d be up for it- as long as you are gentle.”

He hummed again, this time in acknowledgement. His movements were slow, deliberate. A quick cast of buzzing mage hand, which busied itself on uncorking a bottle of oil. It scooped some of the liquid out spreading the lubricant out on its fingers. The oil smelt of jasmine and tropical flowers. He helped your legs into a bent position before seating himself on your waist, you felt one of the soft buzzing digits braces against your opening. Gale cupped your cheek bowing over for a kiss, his hands reminded you of the branches of a willow tree. His hips gently rocked against your torso, a slow and satisfied grunt drawing from his lips. He kissed you again, showing a devotion to the way your lips felt on his. Then you felt it, a soft buzz underneath a bulb of spongey tissue, the incorporeal hand must’ve entered quite easily into you for you not to notice. The thumb of the spell pressed against your clit, enveloping around it slightly. A warm heat spread steadily to your core, not enough to be considered stereotypically pleasurable, but quite lovely, nonetheless.

You wound an arm around him, your hand rooting itself in his curls as his thighs and calves spilt off your body onto the sheet below. He smiled between kisses, wanting your other arm around him. His beard scratched at your skin in a nice way. Your hands navigated to his hips, letting out a low gurgle when one of the fingers drew circles inside of you. He chuckles lightly as your hip bones tap his stomach. You felt it fleetingly, a little burst of flame that made your chest tighten. How quick was that? He could tell too, a peck to your nose before the intensity of the spell picked up, the thumb against your clit lightening up for a moment- before engulfing you again.

“That is one then, hm?” he smiled sweetly, combing a hand through your hair. “I shall make my way down- unless you have any objections.”

“No- “you murmur softly, scratching the back of the wizard’s scalp, a contented rumble emanated from his chest. with your legs lowered his sat back on your thighs He palmed your chest, the pads of his fingers grazing over your nipple. He gently pinched the flesh, hardening it between his fingers. The other neglected nipple went into his mouth,

his lips encompassed the flesh of your chest. he sighed, a happy one at that, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

The other hand not in use went to his groin, cupping and palming his balls quite gently. His hands traced the seam of his perinium, pressing up into the sensitive tissue just below the skin. His mouth and hand switched, leaving blooms of bruises and bites in his wake.

He began to mark the skin of the other breast, his tongue swirling around the pebbled nipple, eliciting a soft groan from you. He began to kiss lower, his lips hovered over every freckle. Every mole was cataloged and memorized by his kiss, every scar traced and groped.

You admired the soft dip of his stomach, full of soup, he would always say. The warm curve of his hip, and the twitch of his ear. How his brow furrows, and the sunspots on his cheeks. The crinkle next to his eyes, and the smile lines and dimples on his cheeks. What a gorgeous man you’ve managed to acquire, you were more thankful every day.

He spread your legs like softened butter, kissing down your calves and thighs. He settled back onto his knees, his joints popping underneath the weight. The fingers curled inside of you, a stretch warming up your walls. He braced the sides of your legs, bowing his head to hover over cunt. He stretched his leg out, laying off his stomach, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your legs locked his head in place, spit dribbling off his tongue. The pressure lightened off your clit, the tip of his tongue tracing anxious circles. His lips covered the sensitive nerve, providing ample suction. The transparent fingers lovingly stroked your insides, cramping down on them ever so slightly. His lips were downy and soft, her eyes pools of deep dark brown. They gazed at you through long brown lashes, they fluttered every so often.

“You are a treat- “he was almost breathless, enraptured with your pleasure. His tongue was warm and thick against your folds. His kisses against your clit were sloppy and wonderful, drool and slips of tongue, his beard scratched your inner thighs deliciously.

You bucked your hips against his nose, to this he squeezed your thighs to stay still. He removed himself, sweeping down quickly to your inner thighs. He quickly bit down; his teeth left indents.

You groaned again, your abs tightening, you felt a quick forced rush like a cramp in your lower abs. Gale chirped in surprise, a wide smile growing on his lips.

“Aha! I have turned on the tap it seems.” His tongue memorized the outlines of your folds, sweeping up the salty ejaculate. Your face burned. Gale’s gaze turned quizzical “this hasn’t happened before?”

“No- not really.”

His eyes widen, and brows raise. “The child of bhaal I know very well- that has done heinous things that in the eyes of any a god would have them hell bound, hasn’t had their tap turned.”

“there’s only so much you can do with a corpse.”

He huffs, a slight frown at the mention. “Not even your noble friend?”

“No, no- I suppose not. I received pleasure- yes, but not that. It feels odd.”

“it’s completely normal, don’t worry your head.” He stroked your thigh, shifting his weight back to his haunches. “Is this position ok?” he slid his knees under your thighs,

The hand dissipated inside of you, another jingled into life to grab the bottle of lubricant. He poured it over his hands and shaft, lubricating it. he smoothed the rest of the hydrating oil onto your knees, giving both a peck.

He lined himself with your entrance, holding your hips before leaning forward into you. His head bowed, lips grazing yours as he let out a slow and shaky moan. He hit hilt, a tight squeeze forcing a rumble from his chest.

“Gods- “he hissed, “look how tight you are now- for me- so sweet like this.” He nestled his head into your neck, pulsing slow shallow strokes into you. “My pretty star, hm? Does this feel good?”

“Quite lovely- thank you” you gasp out, pressing him closer into your skin. Your toes curled uncomfortably, yet your heart sang. The buzzing returned to your clit, the sounds from your cunt were absolutely sinful, wet and erotic- followed by the steady slap of gales thighs against your ass. Again, you felt a taught pressure in your groin, catching gale off guard. Moans fell from his lips, as he canted his hips into you. You could feel his cock head nestling near your cervix. Your eyes clamped shut, your thighs steeled around him. He let out another happy groan, buried now balls deep inside of you. You rocked together in earnest, happy sobs leaving your lips as a sweet numbness spread throughout your body.

His breath was warm against your neck, leaving scattered kisses along the alcove. His thrusts became languid, like ocean waves, another orgasm crashed through you. Gale let out a louder hiss, his teeth scraped against the soft skin of your neck. “At this rate. I’m about to break- can you cum for me once more?” he whispered against the cusp of your ear. You nodded feverishly, your hands scratching up his spine, he lifted your legs over shoulders using your thighs to brace and stabilize his weight. His thrusts now were sloppy and excitable, kissing your calves and knees. You reached for him, holding his

hand. His breaths puffing out, as he rutted into you, your knees folded back as he found a rhythm. He began to sputter out, kissing you sloppily, his mouth hot and tongue needy. He cried out, buried deep within you. You felt a warm rush as he rode out his orgasm, another snap within your core had you shattering like a mirror. Another warm rush cascaded around you, dripping down and around his crotch.

“The tap turns!” he exclaims breathless, seated within your heat. He softens inside you, turning you to the side, and flopping next to you.

You felt fresh in your newly laundered robes, they smelt like roses. It seems the bath had a similar effect on your companions. All left contented, a flush of alcohol on their cheeks, and a pep in their newly shiny step.

You held hands with Gale taking your leaves, the less they knew the better.

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sucharide · 6 months

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OH OK I JUST. FOLLOWED THROUGH THE HALSIN SCENE. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD.

#roach rambles #i think i'm going to go back to a prev save because I am currently romancing astarion and I just....#idk #Halsin/tav/astarion is EVERYTHING to me oh my god EVERYTHING but it just... Astarion isn't comfortable with it in game ya know?#and I don't really trust that they touch on it again you know?#but anyway #that's what fanfiction is for and I shall be writing some soon hehe #but YEAH THAT SCENE #THE PASSION #OH. MY. GOD.#bg3

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leftdestiny-posts · 8 months

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Guess who totally didn't play bg3 late into the night while they have a doctors appointment early in the morning

#i restarted with a new tav #cause i had almost the same build as my astarion in my prev and i refused to remove #him from my team which ended up...#being difficult later in the game lmao #I rlly like my new tav tho <33 #wanted to play dark urge but urg #first finish normal one before we dive deep #cause i couldnt even get past act 1 on easy mode LMAO #(this is a cry for help)#(cant believe i suck so badly at a game)

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toucansafari · 8 months

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More bg3 stuff. I surprised myself with the amount of drawing I've been doing of late

#Deleted my prev post with the first img #Since i drew the second one as well #Might as well make one post with both #I really wanna post my hc about tav's animals #Sooooon #My art

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nohr-selphias · 2 days

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Why is it that my brain literally cannot believe that Gale would end up w a human woman

#I made a new tav for the nth time #telling myself ‘she will be the one I actually finish this game with’#but when I imagine her and Gale together (as compared to my prev tiefling tav) I’m like ??? u r not attracted to her gale cmon now #even though I created this whole backstory of why their relationship would be so interesting and complicated #but it’s like…. I cannot imagine them together #I know the fix is either stick w previous tav or romance someone else HOWEVER #what if I don’t like those options 🧍‍♀️#this is a ramble about nothing IGNORE

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harcove · 9 months

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My three girls who will make a girlband someday; Zahiri, Elenya, and Almyra...

#my tav #my tavs #oc: zahiri #oc: almyra #oc: elenya #tiefling #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #that prev tag is just cause of the armour zahiri has on ig lmao #i love my babies...#my ocs #zahiri is my first baby..#honest to god forgot theres a place called almyra in fire emblem #and u know what thats okay i love fe so

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secret-smut-sideblog · 9 days

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Warm Blood

Gale / Astarion x F! Tav

(Warm Water part 3, can be read alone)

18+ miscommunication, misplaced anger, sex as a tool, yearning, confessed feelings, urgent sex, restraint, dom Gale, oral (f!), fingering (f!), masturbation (m!), marking, a little silliness

With a sanguine competitor now circling with the large druid, Gale can no longer put off his advances...

Masterlist, Prev Chapter

She hissed gently as he readjusted his hold. He would have to find a new vein it seemed. Even with him closing her wounds, their nightly feeding sessions left her skin tender to touch.

Her generosity staggered him. His body feeling far better in these last few weeks than it had in centuries. Lithe and strong. The bone aching cold he had resigned himself to thawed by her warm blood, her molten body pressed against his when he fed. Her rich blood nourishing him to his core.

Though, their arrangement made him uncomfortable on a fundamental level. She not only didn't gain anything in this exchange, she actively lost something. It was too unbalanced, and he'd be a fool if he thought the other shoe wasn't poised to drop. She would want something in return eventually, and there was only one thing he could offer.

Taking slow mouthfuls, he wound his hands around her waist. Kneading the flesh languidly.

It had baffled him when she had politely turned him down at the tiefling party. She was so handsy and touch driven, he was sure seducing her would have been rather easy. Though, there was still time. As far as he could tell she wasn't tied to anyone yet, though there were several circling already.

He slid the movements of his mouth from purely practical to sensual. Kissing and suckling gently as he drank.

She hummed, stroking his hair through her fingers.

Finding that encouraging, he slid one hand around her hip. The other rising to her ribcage, heading north.

She froze then. "Astarion, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He purred, licking her wound closed with far more tongue than needed. Dragging a flat line up her neck. "Tasting you, darling."

"Why?" Her tone genuinely curious.

He scoffed, pulling back. "What do you mean why? You're beautiful."

"I am, but that doesn't answer my question."

Gods she was aggravating. Heat rose to his neck, her blood fueling the rush.

"Is it so unbelievable that I would want you? You must know your company is highly sought after." He tried for more compliments to loosen her up. But no dice.

"Huh, interesting." She narrowed her eyes slightly at him, lips pursing in thought. "So it's out of obligation."

He threw his hands up, eyes rising to the roof of his tent. His frustration breaking his mask.

"Of course it's out of obligation!"

Far too late, he realized what he said. Eyes lowering to hers slowly. Anxiety throttling his spine.

She only tilted her head at him slightly.

"It's okay. You don't have to, Astarion." She held her hand palm up. "Are you still hungry?"

He blinked at her. Anger flaring through him again. Though for what he couldn't pinpoint.

"So I just drink you dry every night, and you get nothing in return?" He retorted.

"How do you figure I get nothing out of this?" She asked in that aggravating curious tone, not matching his anger at all.

"Gods, don't give me that." His voice rose, standing and starting to pace. "That's not how the world works! There is give and take, and all I've done is take!"

She watched him continue to tirade quietly, appearing to just be listening. Somehow, that made him more heated.

Soon he slowed, his rant winding down. She watched patiently, open and waiting for him.

"Are you ready to hear what I think?" The question genuine and not rhetorical.

He huffed, breath still hard from his efforts.

"Fine. What?" He sniped, aware that he was being childish but too wound up to stop.

"I think you and I have a lot more in common than you realize, and I think I understand more than you give me credit for."

She paused, gathering her thoughts. "When all you get from people is pain, that's what you come to find in them. Even when it's not there. And when you don't get it, it's frightening. Yes?"

The air vanished from his lungs. Her eyebrows raised slightly, seeing that she had gotten through to him.

"In the Underdark, the only hand that reached for you was painful." She pulled up her sleeve, the tapestry of scars criss-crossing her dark skin revealed to him. "So that's what you naturally associate touch with. Anger. Fear of the flesh is survival."

She smoothed her fingers in a self soothing arc across the deep tissue. "You think I seek out touch because I'm naive, or even easy."

She looked up at him, those topaz eyes cutting straight through him. "But I know pain, Astarion. Intimately. I understand deeply why you have come to where you are, why you need to push others away. It's safe that way, yeah?"

He could only nod.

"You're right. It is safer." She conceded, smiling. Pulling her sleeve down. "Can't fault you for that. But I'm greedy, I want more than just safe. And touch is so much more than pain when you let it be."

His jaw clenched, biting back the lump that had risen in his throat. Wanting to retort, but finding no words that could validate him.

His hand shot forward, pulling her into him. Her soft lips sliding against his. Pulsing out his frustration into her plush mouth, needing so much more than he had taken.

She kissed him back tenderly, saying her piece. Not falling into his angry pit for a moment. Her soft touch in clear defiance to his inciting.

He pulled away, hearing footsteps approaching.

"Everything alright? I heard shouting." Gale lifted the flap of his tent. Making eye contact with her punctured throat with clear distaste.

"It's okay, thank you for checking." She responded warmly.

Astarion glared at him over her shoulder, the wizard giving him an equally leveling look.

"I think we could use some space, actually." She said impartially, turning to him. "Are you okay to stop for the night? I could give you a few bottles."

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "I think I can manage not withering away without this copious doting, darling."

She patted his arm, nodding. "I'll bring the bottles."

"Has anyone ever told you you're infuriating?"

She only smiled at him, turning to take Gale's upturned hand. Rising out of his tent. The flap falling closed on him alone again.

He flopped face down, groaning.

After she quietly dropped off two bottles of blood at the entertance to the crimson tent, Gale took her small warm hand in his. Leading her to the view overlooking the edge of the city. They were so close, the precipice at their fingertips.

She sighed wistfully, pulling him to sit with her on the grass.

"Baldur's Gate." She mused dreamily. "I wonder if it's as awful as I've heard."

He barked out a laugh. "Oh, I'm sure it's just atrocious. We're sure to hate it."

She laughed too, then gave a little thoughtful wince. "Ooh, Halsin is definitely going to hate it."

He was sure the druid was a fine person, but given his leanings, Gale was less concerned.

"Well, he can always stay outside. Who knows how much room our new camp will have anyway..."

She rolled her eyes at him, knocking her knee against his.

He caught her knee in his hand before she could pull it back. Rubbing his thumb in slow circles.

She slid up flush to him easily, leaning her head into the curve his shoulder.

"How are you feeling?" She whispered, the backs of her knuckles gently knocking on his chest.

"Ah, that." He chuckled, slightly embarrassed at her concern. "Oh, you know. Heartache is nothing new to me."

She leaned her head back and sighed dramatically at his joke, the edge of a smile on her lips.

"Just awful. I'm never asking again." She shook her head in solemn jest.

"Oh, please do. The healing touch of your disdain is tantamount to mending my heart."

He paused then, nerves fraying. The smell of his lavender in her hair bolstering him in a soft smile.

"I have been meaning to speak to you. About matters of the heart."

She turned to him, topaz eyes bright in the moonlight. Thick spirals of dark hair cascading down her back. Gods, she was so beautiful it made him dizzy.

He turned his gaze to the ground, picking up a smooth stone and turning it over in his palm. Having something to touch always helped him think.

"I've come to fancy you. Quite a lot. Though this is not the proper way I would have preferred to court you. In the dirt and blood." He sighed, wishing things were different.

"You must know you're... you're very special to me. I hope I'm special to you too, but if I'm misguided just say the word and I'll back off."

The words tumbled out of him, a vexing blush rising to his cheeks. Feeling like a school boy confessing a crush.

Her body shifted, standing on knees. In one fluid motion she hooked her leg around and straddled his lap. Bringing his eyes to hers in a hand tenderly cupping his face.

His breath was entirely taken, dropping the stone he had been holding with a soft thunk.

"Took you long enough." She teased, her dimpled smile making his heart rush.

"I fancy you too, Gale. And I'd like to show you that, if you'll let me." She hushed, her body heat radiating into his torso.

He could only nod, all blood rushing away from unimportant higher functions. Hands gripping her wide hips in a groan, the sensation far better than he ever could have imagined.

Her hands wound into his hair, pushing a heady kiss into him with a little whimper.

His eyes rolled up into his lids, just the kiss sending him under. Hand rising to the small of her back. Her lips pulsing into his with slick need. Tongue dancing along the seam of his lips in question.

He opened happily, a hungry moan leaving him when their tongues twisted. Both hands palming her ass greedily. The ample globes of flesh kneading in his fingers, her smothered mewl sending impossibly more blood to his already straining cock.

All of her touch spun around him in a lustful haze, far too much and not nearly enough.

He pulled his shirt over his head in a whip, only leaving her lips for a single moment. Her hands finding his trousers, palming him over his sleep pants.

"Fuck," He hissed, it felt too good already. Precum pooling far too soon for his liking. His body touch starved and hungrier than it had any right to be. Trying to force the tunnel vision of promised release open again.

He pushed forward, twisting her down onto her back. His hands rising under her sleep shirt to caress the unbearably soft curve of her waist.

"By the Weave..." He muttered, her body far too intoxicating. Cock throbbing insistently.

He felt completely lost, head nothing but liquid desire. Leaning down to kiss sloppily along her waist. Pushing her shirt up to her clavicle.

She squirmed under him, breath fast pants. Pulling his hair back in a fist, watching him with lust blown eyes and kiss swollen lips.

Gods, how was he already close. He couldn't be this down bad, could he?

Oh who was he kidding, of course he was.

He pulled her bralette down, her breasts springing free. A growl vibrated in his chest at the sight, gripping the front of the band, pulling it down onto her ribs.

He pulled back to slip her leggings off of her, revealing her arching hips, hip bones sliding underneath. Thighs wide and plush, dipping into her hips. Her legs falling back open, the curve of her ass teasing under her. Slick pooling from her gleaming cunt.

"Oh, come on..." He huffed, just the sight stroking down his cock in a rush. "That's not fair."

"You're one to talk. Why do you look like that wizard?" She scoffed. "All those muscles, for what? Seducing poor quivering maidens in the grass..."

"Oh, we'll get to the quivering." He smiled dangerously, leaning down to lick a stripe up her hip bone.

She whined, arching her hips up more into his mouth. The heat coming off of her cunt soaking his clavicle.

Gods below and above spare him.

Trailing his mouth down, his cock twitched in anticipation. His practiced mouth about to be seated where it longed to be. Where it belonged.

He breathed in a deep pull of her, nose nuzzling into her curls. Gods, she was divine. Her sweet musk making his mouth salivate. Truly he had been deprived before this moment.

Her hips starting rolling impatiently, and he pushed a forceful hand flat to her lower belly in response. No, he was going to savor this.

She moaned under his hold, bringing a smile to his lips. So she liked it like that...

He breathed a warm wave of air on her cunt, watching it twitch in what he knew was a clench in a devious smile.

"You bastard..." She groaned, the need apparent in her voice sending a shiver down his back.

"Language..." He chuckled. The lack of touch making her writhe deliciously under his hold.

"I'll show you language." She scoffed.

Grabbing both sides of his face she pulled his eyes up to hers.

"Bite me, choke me. Hold me down and spit in my mouth. Tongue fuck me like a whore, wizard."

His pelvis clenched, eyes rolling up into the back of his head. Hand clawing into her thigh.

"Oh Gods." He groaned, finally diving on her cunt.

He lapped his tongue in undulating waves, slurping her clit into his lips.

"Fuck!" She cried out, gripping his hair hard in her fist.

He suckled down hard, suctioning his lips around the bundle. Tongue pulsing wet curved pulls. Hands keeping her thighs forced open as they tried to clamp shut around his head.

Her high keening whines melded beautifully with the slurping sounds of his hungry mouth.

Her hips bucked helplessly against his hands, ribs arching up. Only the underside of her jaw visible above him.

He smiled into her cunt, releasing one thigh and pushing his forearm into the apex of her thighs. A bar holding her open still, his two fingers sliding slowly into her. Humming into her clit in pleasure, fingers spreading eagerly into the velvet slick pouring up into his palm.

Her head shot up, staring down at him almost in disbelief. Hand bracing her at her side.

When he began strong and slow thrusts of his fingers, her head fell back sharply. Voice only mewling calls. Thoroughly tamed, warm and pliant under his devotion.

He knew this was as close to the heavens as he had ever gotten. Harnessing all of his senses to bottle this into his everlasting memory. Though he imagined it would be very hard to forget.

He curved his fingers up, stroking that ridged bump in hard thrusts. Clamping down on her clit again, lapping his tongue in hollow pulls, like slurping soup.

"Oh Gods," She whined.

He groaned hot into her, chasing her hips up as they tried to squirm away. Free hand grabbing her waist and pulling her back down hard. He was not even close to done.

Fingers arcing into her in vicious thrusts, unrestrained. He wrenched his head quickly side to side, sucking down in popping wet pulses of his lips.

She cried out, her pelvis tremoring hard. Unable to hold her thighs open anymore as they arched up and clenched down around his head. Muffling around his ears. Cunt clenching in hard flutters around his fingers. He looked up, drinking in her arching ribcage and scrambling hands. A strike of fluid striking his jaw. Sending his eyes up into his skull.

His hips fucked into the ground, unable to still them any longer. Removing his fingers to slurp her cum into his mouth uninhibited. Pushing out of her in creamy pulses. Greedily lapping all he could catch, rubbing into her clit to encourage more.

She let out indignant pleading whines, but he wasn't done yet. His cunt slicked fingers gripping around his cock. Drinking her cum as he fucked into his fist.

Only two or three thrusts and he was gone, wrenching ropes up his belly. Pelvis clenching in vicious pulses, shooting pleasure through his body in teeth gritting waves. The endless ache behind his navel firing out in tortuous strikes. Hand bracing next to her hip in the dirt desperately.

His mouth slowed then stopped, panting hard into her thigh. Resting his head into the seam of her hip, thoroughly spent.

"That good huh?" She teased, her own breath telling of equal pleasure.

Head still down, he held his finger up in a signal to give him a minute.

She giggled, thoroughly pleased. "My, my, Gale at a loss for words. Wait until camp hears about this..."

He looked up, glaring at her in jest. "Don't you dare."

She smiled wide. "Hmm, I dont know... It's a pretty monumental thing to go unnoted. It would be a shame to keep to myself."

He trailed up her body, balancing on elbows above her. She gave him a pout, eyes wide in mock pleading.

"How else is everyone suppose to know I'm yours?"

His cock stirred again, huffing out a groan.

"Tav, you're killing me." He admonished. She only bit her lip in a smile at him.

"Well, if you don't want me telling everyone, you better leave your mark on me." She purred, turning her chin up. Eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Oh, that I can do." He smiled, angling his head down to her neck. Pulling the soft flesh between his teeth.

She laughed then moaned, that little whimper he was already addicted to in her throat again.

Oh, it was hopeless. They were going to be here all night.

#back once again with dom gale propaganda and ill never be sorry #gale x tav #astarion x tav #gale smut #bg3 smut #screenshots by @cybersdead and @dailygale #lyrics from: gods country - ethel cain

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bluerose5 · 3 months

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Zevran & Astarion Banter Pt. 19/?

Inspired by my Zevran in BG3 playthrough, so no Tav mentions in this scenario (since Zev is Tav in a sense). Zevran is being careful about revealing where he's actually from while trying to figure out what the hell is going on 99% of the time.

[First] [Prev] [Next]

...

Astarion: Zevran.

Zevran: You call?

Astarion: Your accent seems different from most around here. You're not from Baldur's Gate, are you? Or the Sword Coast, for that matter.

Zevran: Are you asking or telling?

Astarion: I was just curious about where you hail from. Getting to know who I travel with and all that.

Zevran: Ah, yes, that is simple!

Astarion: Is it now?

Zevran: But of course. You see, I hail from a land far, far away from here.

Astarion: *scoffs* That's it?

Zevran: That's it.

Astarion: You don't want to share anything else? Not even a name?

Zevran: And why should I? Alas, speaking of it will only make me homesick, and no one would like to see me all sentimental and nostalgic, surely.

Astarion: Hmph, and I guess that your 'nostalgia' won't allow you to share how you learned to fight like that either.

Zevran: What? Oh, that is hardly news. I am an assassin, you see.

Astarion: An... assassin? As in a professional?

Zevran: Yes!

Astarion: Could've fooled me. I did have you held at knifepoint not too long ago, after all.

Zevran: Ha! Don't be fooled! You only got the upper hand because I allowed it. It was amusing at the time, yes; however, if I truly wanted to bring harm to you, then I already had seven ways to do so mapped out in my mind by the time we hit the ground.

Astarion: Uh-huh... Tell me. What guild are you associated with again?

Zevran: One that is not known around these parts, which is probably for the best.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #dragon age origins #dragon age #zevran arainai #zevran #astarion ancunin #astarion #zevstarion #bluerose writes #bluerose headcanons

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larsisfrommars · 2 months

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The Light Won't Die (Part 6)

Halsin x Tav

Rating: T for Teen (Canon Typical Gore)

Chapter: 6/??? (<- Prev Chapter)

Word Count: 1596

Genre: Adventure, Hurt/Comfort

Content: Halsin x Tav, Male!Tav, Fighter!Tav, the meat of the matter, oops turns out this is also a sickfic, budding feelings, Tav mini lore drop, Shadow Cursed wounds are the best kind of wounds don't you think?

"Tav knew Halsin was in no state to travel, let alone defend himself if more Shadows came. They had to find somewhere and fast."

———————✨🌿✨———————

“Well,” Halsin coughed “that’s curious.”

He took an uneven step forward, about to explain himself or theorize the nature of his previously uninfected wound. What came out instead is something between a cough and a groan.

The strength left the Druid’s body before Tav could get a word in. His eyes rolled back, his knees buckled, Nature’s Snare clattering to the ground. It took the majority of Tav’s strength to catch him and prevent them both from crashing onto the cobblestones.

Halsin regained his senses at the sudden jostling. But it was clear that the Druid could no longer stand on his own two feet, not without help at least.

“Easy, easy, easy! Let’s sit you down for a moment. Gods Halsin! Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt so badly?!” Tav hissed incredulously as he set himself and Halsin down against the low stone barrier beside them.

Halsin’s his head lolled back against the wall, grimacing, breathing heavy, trying to piece together a reply.

“Your wounds… from the fall… more urgent… did not know, though it was a flesh wound. Clearly… I was mistaken.” The elf spoke between labored breaths. Letting out a half chuckle that dissolved into a wheezing cough.

Tav couldn’t even pretend to be amused, they were both in danger now because Halsin had put his needs above his own, the selfless oaf.

Then again, Tav had been unconscious when they hit the bottom of the cliffside.

Tav had assumed he’d died, perhaps that wasn’t far from the truth. Halsin had looked unusually relieved when he came to, maybe he feared the worst… maybe…

Tav shook his head, he had more important things to worry about than a personal brush with death. Those were a copper a dozen for him. It was Tav’s fault they were down here anyway, a healing potion was the least he could do.

“Looks like some kind of poison, I thought you told me about all the dangers of the shadow curse already?” Tav glanced up at the wound as he rifled around his bag. Looking much stranger and angrier than it had as he watched it made by those accursed Thorn Blights.

“This is new… I have neither suffered nor seen a wound like this before.” He turned to look at Tav now. “There are a great many things that have changed since I last saw this place, not just the landscape. When the Curse first fell, most were either transformed, killed or were the precious few like myself who escaped with minor injuries. Perhaps the sun cured whatever ails this wound, or perhaps… I shudder to think-”

Halsin’s conjecture was interrupted by a coughing fit. Tav finally unearthed a potion of lesser healing from his bag. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. He uncorked it for the Druid, prepared to help him choke it down if it came to it.

“The curse may be evolving.” Halsin finished soberly, gingerly taking the petite glass bottle in both hands. Emptying it in a signal swallow.

They waited with baited breath, Halsin’s breathing did not ease, nor did the narrow, angry gash in his side show any signs of closing. Not even a fading of bruises, not a thing done by such a valuable vial of magic. They looked at one another, Tav didn’t have to ask whether or not he felt any better.

“Bone Chill.�� Tav realized with a nasty feeling in his gut. So much for the least he could do.

“We need to get you somewhere safe. Can you stand?”

“I will try.” Halsin breathed.

It took the staff and Tav’s help, but he was able to get back to his feet. Their travel speed now slowed to a crawl. Though he would if asked, Tav knew Halsin was in no state to travel, let alone defend himself if more Shadows came. They had to find somewhere and fast.

Slim pickings to put it lightly, less searching for a decent shelter and more so “which one of these ancient buildings is the least derelict”. Tav eyed a large silo shaped cobblestone building with barely any roof. At least the walls were intact, and he didn’t know of anything that would attack them from above.

It would have to do.

“Come on, just a little further to go.”

The Druid only nodded in reply.

Tav helped Halsin ease himself onto the dirt floor of the strange old silo, relieving himself of his pack. Rifling through it for bedroll, torches, anything that would help, he had one more health potion but obviously that wasn’t going to do any good until the Bone Chill wore off, if that was even what it was. Up until recently Tav had been a complete stranger to necromancy.

He wished he still was.

Four torches, they’d have to be relit every few hours but that could last them two, maybe three days, not counting using the Mace for backup. He had enough rations for the both of them for much longer than that thanks to raiding the Creche.

Halsin obviously needed the bedroll more than he did, he’d sleep on the floor, lightly, sitting up, just in case a torch died. Now, if only he could put a flare together to show the others where to find them.

No, bad idea, that could draw the Absolutists right to them, not to mention all manner of light hating beasts that slathered these lands in their ravenous pitch. No matter how ominously Halsin had described the Curse it was nothing compared to actually being inside it yourself. It was oppressive, if only you really could cut air with a knife. Then maybe he could think straight. He already had enough incomprehensible forces gnawing on his grey matter as it was!

“You should rest.” A shallow voice rasped from the corner.

Tav gasped, immediately putting hand to mace hilt, he almost didn’t recognize the elf’s voice.

It bothered Tav how slow he was to take his hand away from the mace although he knew full well even if Halsin were well, he’d never lay a hand on him. Even as he thought that, his mind wandered to the thorns in his chest… The mace clearly wasn’t enough, he really must light a torch!

So he did, and all the anger and fear washed away in face of a new and more powerful force. One that he’d become all too familiar with in Halsin’s presence.

Care. Not only that but the self assured sense of protectiveness he felt for all their companions, something he hadn’t quite realized was ebbing away in face of this gloom.

“Are you… well?” Halsin asked wheezily, half-conscious.

Beads of sweat speckled the Druid’s brow despite the omnipresent chill the Curse bestowed on the land, one of its many gruesomely charming features.

“I am. But you’re not.” Tav brushed Halsin’s hair from his forehead with the back of his hand “Gods Halsin, you’re burning hotter than the Hells. You’ll be competing with Karlach soon enough. You should lie down.”

The Druid not argue, perhaps he couldn’t. Strong, warm, dry hands were made cold and trembling by the strange poison running through Halsin’s veins. A hand in hand to ease. A hand laced through russet hair so that the weakened elf would not hit his head too harshly on the ground.

Gingerly, tenderly, his hands did what was necessary, what was right, as they always did. It took no real effort, so why was his heart pounding so violently in its cage then? Why did he feel as though he needed to catch his breath? He had practically been ready to cave this man’s skull in not moments prior just for startling him! Gods it had been a long day.

Tav took out his canteen.

“Drink.”

Halsin abided, with a bit of propping up.

“Thank you, Tav.” Halsin managed, followed by yet another coughing fit.

Tav was no healer but, you don’t become a Flaming Fist without getting some rudimentary first aid training. “No bleeding out before the Clerics show up!” His drill sergeant used to bark.

No Clerics around here Tav thought bitterly. Removing a water jug and a bundle of clean linens from his pack.

“I’m going to have to remove this.” Tav spoke mechanically, gesturing to Halsin’s armor. Trying focus on the task at hand and not the sudden return of that same rush of feeling from before.

Halsin nodded his understanding, doing his best to make it easier for Tav. The wound looked even worse beneath the cuirass. He wasn’t particularly squeamish given his line of work, but this wound was magical, alien, and Tav couldn’t help but wince.

The initial shock passed Tav got to work, methodically, gently cleaning the dirt and blood and ichor away until all that remained was what continued to well-up from the wound, which was quickly tapered off by the makeshift bandages he’d rustled up.

Tav had done what he must, and Halsin had finally given into exhaustion. Hopefully what people said about Elves only sleeping to heal was true. All that could be done without magic had been.

Despite his efforts, despite the Blood of Lathander, despite the lit torch, one haunting lingering anxiety for which no curse could be blamed lingered in Tav’s mind.

That fever, the dark magic in that would could kill Halsin in his sleep, and there would be very little Tav could do about it.

He fought his own tired body to the last, just to watch his breathing.

Just in case.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tav #halsin #halsin silverbough #halsin bg3 #halsin x tav #halsin x male tav #halsin x reader #halsin x male reader #hurt/comfort #adventure #sickfic #fanfiction #fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic

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dhampling · 25 days

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prev tags or preg tavs? in this essay i will discuss the rise of astarion ancunin breeding content on tu

#dal talks #astarion

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tavshortfortavern · 6 months

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Companions react to Tav impulse kissing Zevlor/Rolan/Dammon

Related to my prev post abt the tiefling trio: Prev Astarion

Wont let you live it down.

Caught on eventually to you pining for the tiefling. You were subtle but the groups has gotten close enough to notice.

Will torture them with questions. Are they finally going to sweep him of his feet? Confess their cute little crush if they return? Did you stammer after you kissed them?

If your the kind of person who seems so level headed and disciplined, it gets worse. Finally, a little fun! He thought you'd never get that stick out of your ass.

Makes comments on whoever you kissed. Even if you didn't ask. Heck you never asked for any of this

If you're dating him then you probably already discussed being poly and he's planning ways to mess with your new love, not out of hate but wants to see what's got you smitten

If you're not but he's pining, will be jealous and hiding it. You might notice his comments being a little sharper or backhanded

Karlach

Is cheering you on fr

If its Dammon? Number. One. Hype. Man

Her two favorite people who's done everything they could for her condition? Getting together?? Is already thinking of the beer she'll toast during the wedding

Whatever doubts you've got she's there to support you. And bat them away with praise

If its the case that you were hesitant because you think Dammon has a thing for her, she reassures you she's already happy with Shadowheart or Wyll or any of the other companions and its no big deal. Feelings change and she has no doubt you're all he's thinking about now

Is just so damn happy for you and any of those tieflings. Now she's more fired up to win this fight so you can get back and get together with them

Watch out. She's definitely playing wingman from now on

Gale

Will congratulate you for mustering up the courage for such a bold move and console your emberassment. He knows how it feels to fumble social interactions

Reassures you that the tiefling in question would be lucky to have you

The worse is a rejection and you could move on from that. He doubts that would happen though.

He suspects you've left a mess of whoever you kissed and they'll want you to return even more so

If he's pining, sadness tinges his words but he would want you to be happy. You of all people.

Shadowheart

Teases you for it. How dramatic. A kiss before rushing into battle? The bards are going to love this

Your pining didn't go unnoticed to her. It was amusing to watch their steadfast leader go all soft for a crush

Also comments on whoever you kissed. The tiefling leader. So you like them strong and capable? Rolan. Him? He's worse than Gale ("Hey!") Dammon. Nice and stable has you whipped huh?

Overall roots for you. She's confident they'll return your feelings and probably ask for another kiss.

If not then she'll pour a glass of wine for both of you and you can waste away your feelings in each other's company

Wyll

Also happy for you

It's been a hard journey so far. Some romance can't hurt. If anything it'll make you fight stronger. Knowing there's someome else waiting for you to come back

A romantic at heart, tells you they definitely would return your feelings. Even if they don't, its not wrong to go for things you genuinely love, especially when we're not sure if tomorrow would arrive

Imagining the wedding too. Wonders if he could get best man position. Might have to fight Karlach for it tho

Might also wingman for you. Less obnoxious than a certain barbarian.

Laezel

Wonders why you're so emberassed

You're a capable leader and a powerful opponent. Why would they reject your advances?

Claims you should be more assertive. What's with this shyness, this hesitency. Your not like this in battle how is this any different. If anything you should state your desires boldy and proudly to them. Then of course, engage in battle to initiate desire

Obviously she won't have the most conventional courting advice but also says you shouldn't be too brudened by this

Your worth isn't tied to them. Win this battle, be victorious and your group can celebrate living another day

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 karlach #bg3 gale #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 wyll #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 headcanons #bg3 reader

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messierthanthou · 2 months

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Like I said in prev post, Lae'zel using mage hand to finger Shadowheart, so please, enjoy

Aching Night

Rated E, Shadowzel, mage hand stuff happens, 1555 words

Shar guide her, for she is surely going to hell for this. For these thoughts. These urges.

As Shadowheart lays on the bedroll inside her tent, shrouded in darkness, they come to her, uninvited. Images of Lae’zel flourish in her mind, and even as she tries to pray, to push it all away, they persist. The gith’s strong, slender body haunts her, those yellow sharp eyes follow her, that witless tongue speaks her name.

There’s no escaping it as she tosses and turns in bed, landing on her back she throws off the covers that trap the heat of her body that grows hotter by each second - by each concerning thought.

It is unbecoming how butterflies swarm her stomach at the mere idea of the gith’s touch, however rough or gentle it be. Would she grab her by the wrists and hold them above her head as Lae’zel fingered her senseless? Would that long tongue of hers be finally put to good use? How it might feel swirling her clit, entering her pussy, eating her out like it’s a last meal.

Hells, this isn’t helping! She needs to cool down, and the lake nearby camp seems a fitting respite.

Towel in hand she wanders the few feet to the lakeside, every light in the camp extinguished but her darkvision guides her easily and silently through it all.

Shadowheart stops before the lake’s edge, strips till she’s all nude, lets her hair down where it grazes near her buttocks, then enters the body of water, sighing gently as the coolness caresses her heated body, the relief immediate.

She moves in deeper till her body is consumed, her chin just above the water, her hair floating behind her like a cape of raven black. Eventually Shadowheart finds her way to the rocks by the edge, leaning against them, and another sigh falls from relaxed lips. This was sorely needed, and while those thoughts remain behind closed eyes, the cold water manages to wash them out ever so slightly till they’re barely more than a reflection in the waves.

“You,” an all too discouragingly familiar voice says, and Shadowheart meets Lae’zel’s burning gaze.

“You,” she responds with in turn.

“Leave, now.”

“You don’t own the lake, Lae’zel, I am free to come and go as I please.”

“Chk, you wish to fight me on this when your precious Tav isn’t around to save you from my torment?”

“Every second with you is torment, whether Tav is here or not.” Shadowheart can only hope that the darkness shrouds the growing blush on her face as she starts to realize that the gith must be naked, too.

But the way Lae’zel’s furrowed brow smooths out is not all that promising of what she does and doesn’t notice in the moonlight. And when she steps closer, Shadowheart tries to back up, but the rocks keep her in place.

“You say that like this torment is unacceptable, and yet I have seen you looking at me with lidded eyes, and I will admit, your scent intrigues me.” She closes in on the half-elf. “This little dance we do, you don’t find it… enticing?”

“Macabre, more so than intriguing, and you must have seen wrong; how could anyone look at a gith with desire?” Shadowheart bites but the other woman just smiles, and it is equally worrying and electrifying.

“You say that, and yet I can sense your heartbeat, see how the blood rushes to your face, and that fire in your eyes. You’re aroused.”

She is. Greatly even. This soldier before her lights an unwanted fire in Shadowheart’s cunt, and as much as she desires her, so does she despise her.

“You want a taste. To feel my lips against yours, our bodies pressed together, a flesh-bond. Very well, I shall give it to you, for I, too, pine for the body I so relentlessly think about.”

“You talk too much,” Shadowheart whispers in the seconds it takes for their lips to meet, as she brings a hand up to grab Lae’zel by the neck and pull her in.

And the gith isn’t slow to respond, as she pries the other’s lips apart with her tongue to invade Shadowheart’s mouth, who in turn moans at the taste of her spit.

“You must keep quiet,” Lae’zel hisses, “We can’t have anyone hear you.”

“Then make me quiet,” the Sharran demands, although it sounds more like an invitation, and their lips clash together again.

The fighter grabs both of Shadowheart’s wrists in one strong hand and pins them above her head, against the rocks, and one would think she had read the half-elf’s mind about this earlier, as she practically quivers under the restraint and has to fight back another moan.

Beneath the surface of the water that keeps their bodies hidden from each other, she feels how the gith presses against her, separating her legs with a persistent thigh that then grinds against her throbbing clit, and again, Shadowheart fights a most pleasured sound from erupting.

Together they find a rhythm that suits them both, rubbing together in harmony, but it’s not enough.

The half-elf tears her lips away from Lae’zel’s demanding kisses, and whispers with restraint, “Touch me.” She would be embarrassed at how needy she sounds if she wasn’t instead so horny.

“Chk, so ungrateful for what I already give,” the gith snaps in turn, but doesn’t look as offended as she sounds.

In fact, the way she stares seems to be almost with interest.

And that’s when Shadowheart feels it, a hand pressing against her pussy instead of Lae’zel’s own thigh.

“Remember, keep quiet.”

With their eyes locked together, a single ghostly finger enters her, elevating her breathing till she’s near silently gasping for air, and she bites down on her lower lip, huffing through her nose. The gith smiles like she’s won something, then starts thrusting with the mage hand, and if it wasn’t for her hand holding Shadowheart up, she’d have succumbed to her weakening legs.

With every thrust of that single finger, it gets harder and harder to keep eye-contact, but the cleric worries that Lae’zel would vanquish the hand if she closed her eyes or looked away, as if they’re in a staring contest.

She exhales hard, takes a big gulp of air, then bites down again, regaining some composure, but just then a second finger slides in and joins the thrusting below. It takes all in her not to moan out in ecstasy as the mage hand continues to fuck her thoroughly, its thumb starting to massage her clit, making her squirm.

“I wonder how long you can last like this, before giving in to your most carnal desire and cumming with such simple touches,” Lae’zel speaks as if completely unaffected by what they’re doing- what she’s doing. “You will have me tonight, and then, when the time is right, I will have you.”

A third finger joins, and as heat builds up to a boiling point, her brows knit together, she closes her eyes for a mere moment longer than just a blink, and the hand between her thighs adds a fourth finger. It burns, the sensation of being split open like this hurts so deliciously, she can’t fight the yelp that comes out.

And in response the gith leans in to bite at Shadowheart’s lower lip before kissing ferociously, making her head knock against the rocks behind her.

“I told you to keep quiet. If you can’t, we will stop this.”

By instinct, with an urge to pull Lae’zel closer again, the cleric struggles against the hand that holds her back, leans in for another kiss, but the gith dodges out of the way with a near evil smirk, ever so pleased with the whole situation.

But she gives Shadowheart what she wants, kisses her, uses her long tongue to keep the other’s under control, tasting her and humming pleased tunes.

The stretching ache of the half-elf’s cunt doesn’t subside, as the thrusts grow tenacious and unyielding in the finger’s pursuit of her climax. A chase that comes to a rather abrupt but overwhelming end, as everything that touches Shadowheart makes her nonsensically overjoyed. And like a fire it roars throughout her body, making her clench down on the fingers that persist in their thrusting and fucking of her cunt, letting her ride out the euphoria at a punishing pace that makes it feel like she’s been cumming for minutes before the hand stops and vanishes, leaving an emptiness in her body she didn’t expect.

As she slowly returns to this realm, her body relaxing after a high she can’t remember ever having felt before, she notices just how gentle and almost kind Lae’zel’s kisses have grown, before she slowly pulls away, releasing her wrists and removing her body heat entirely from the other woman.

Shadowheart is speechless, but even if she had the words for it, she might not have the strength, as she gasps for air and rests against the rocks, her legs barely keeping her standing.

“Regain your strength, Shadowheart, for come one night soon, I will seek you out, and I will let you taste me again. The anticipation will be… delicious.” And with that said, the gith turns around and leaves the still quaking half-elf to her own.

#shadowzel #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 shadowheart

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serpentoflolth · 2 months

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The Pale Rose

I posted the last chap of this fanfic: Shadowheart takes care of Tristan’s wounds, but he has no memory of how he got them. Meanwhile, death advances, stretching out its hands on the impure soul of Lolth-Sworn Drow.

This fanfiction is the continuation of Children of Darkness.

Chap. 4: Spite and Malice

The passion for Shadowheart is irrepressible for Tristan, yet another woman has just entered his life, ready to do anything to get her revenge.

Rating: Explicit

Ship: Shadowhert / Tristan (Tav)

Characters: Shadowheart, Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Karlach, Wyll, Lae'zel, Lolth-Sworn Drow, Lolth, Wood Elf, High Elf, Szarkai, Original Characters.

Prev Chapters:

Chap. 1: Blood on my hands

Chap. 2: The Chosen One

Chap. 3: Stygian Darkness

Excerpt:

Shadowheart stood on tiptoe and placed her lips on mine. The kiss was calm this time, letting each savor the other, relishing the minutes that passed as our tongues danced. I felt her hands behind my back, which caressed me gently while her breath merged with mine, her heartbeat became a single song with the sweet roll of my heart. Could we become one thing? It was as if we were merging as her essence reverberated in my chest, intoxicating my senses, transporting me towards her breasts, as I freed her from the first layer of clothing, which fell to the floor in the immense silence of our alcove. The world could not enter there with its sounds and smells, with the clamour of the people who crowded our camp, each busy with their own personal tragedy. Not even the past could roll there, not even the dead could crawl to Shadowheart's tent: Dorotea had vanished from my head, along with Darian and Franceska, along with Lolth herself. In that corner of the universe, there was only me and Shadowheart.

Read the rest on AO3

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baldursyourgate · 6 months

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Same anon - OOOO thats very true I didn't even think of that. Which is weird because drow typically are so steeped in deception and back stabbing. Minthara tells you numerous times that her family and friends often tried to harm her for the sake of getting the upper hand in the court of loth. Yet mintharas whole character almost rebels agasint that up bringing. Shes honest with tav. Blunt and to the point. She doesn't try to decieve or manipulate you into doing things. She's open about her history and her affection. GRANTED this is because she's come to whole heartedly trust tav but that in itself is so incredibly important to her growth. And you see this! You see the change and her depth. I'll tell u right now halsin has nothing on her. I tried to get to know him because I wanted to see what his character was. Its...boring. his notable history is that he's outlived his family. His scar is from a lady bear wanting to mate him. He's big because the oak father idk. And that he loves nature and is super down for polly. After act 2 if you have ok ish approval with him he will straight up go I wanna fuck you. You have a partner? Cool bring them into the mix. If you reject him he's like " well dang. But ok " and that's kinda it. Nothing else related to the story. I don't hate him but minthara is based and deserves to be seen and its a shame that majority of people won't experience her.

Prev post for more context ->

There's so much to Minthara even with the little content we had of her currently. Loyalty, honesty and devotion from an evil character who was raised in a society that encourages the opposite. Traits that could've gotten her killed back home... Good soup.........

#sane and normal about a fictional woman #minthara #asks #felt like Halsin was written way too leaned into what the fandom wants out of him #he's almost purely fanservice to me and he could've had a better story #someone posted datamined dropped plotline iirc. there's suppose to be a bit more of him idk

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sigloverofwords · 7 months

Text

let me wrap my teeth around the world

An Astarion x spawn!Tav fanfic

Series warnings: violence, injury, abuse, self injury, suicidal ideation, animal death, rape (past), ptsd, emotional abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, scars, panic attacks, manipulation, transformations

Summary: You awake at the nautiloid crash, wounded and starving but free of your Master for the first time in your life. You’re determined to get as far away from Him as possible, and finally get some answers about your existence. Fortunately for you, you stumble upon another spawn. Unfortunately he doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you.

Your ability to transform into a monster quickly changes his mind, though.

Posted to AO3 first!

Author’s Note: this is a y/n-free second person slow burn hurt eventual comfort fic. Lots of heavy stuff addressed, please take care of yourself and don’t read if any of the warning subjects are triggering to you.

2k+ word chapters

Chapter 2 (prev)

Your dreams are scattered and frightening, flashes of memory become nightmare. Even deep in unconsciousness your body aches, protesting the abuse it's been put through. You dream of transforming into the monster He made you, of your true self curled up in a ball, encased by a beast worthy only of execution. It makes you sick to your stomach, and you wake suddenly, choking back bile.

Disorientation overwhelms you when you jerk awake, coughing hard. Blankets pool in your lap as you shoot up into a sitting position and hunch over until the hacking subsides. The unfamiliarity of your surroundings makes your heart rate leap, your eyes immediately darting to your wrist.

Although it's banded in deep, rough scars it's free of any restraint. The scars are familiar to you, but they sting with a distant memory of pain, and you hug your wrist to your chest with your other hand as you take stock of your situation, letting out the occasional cough.

"Well, that didn't sound comfortable," a familiar voice drawls from beside you. Startled, you whirl on the elf. He’s lounging in a woven wooden chair, turning the simple piece of furniture into a throne with the way he drapes his lithe body over it. You blink

“You’re here,” you croak, throat stinging from the abuse of smoke and acid, hand still clutched close to your body. The elf raises a white eyebrow.

“Well, you did insist I take you with me to Baldur’s Gate. Leaving you unconscious on a beach wouldn’t exactly be an auspicious start to our partnership.”

Shame flushes up your neck and over your cheeks, and you bury your face in your hands.

“I can’t believe I did that,” you mumble through your fingers. “I’m so sorry.”

The elf seems to be holding back a scoff.

“Darling, it was stunning. Let’s just keep all that…” he gestures vaguely to all of you, “fabulous rage pointed away from me, yes?”

You can’t help flinching away from his flippant gesture. For a moment you think you managed to disguise the movement with a nod, but his red eyes narrow at you, while your own widen slightly.

This is not a conversation you’re looking to have right now.

Or ever.

Nervously flicking your tongue over your dry, cracked lips, you turn to survey the room you’re in, hoping that indicates the subject is closed.

You're sitting on a raised stone slab, made more comfortable by the furs and blankets laid out across it. It's carved directly from the ground, the same as a wide table across the room and shelves lining the walls. Aside from the seat that your elf companion is currently using, there’s a few other pieces of wooden furniture, and stacks of closely woven baskets and chests stacked against one wall.

All around you is bare stone, but the room doesn't feel suffocating. It's large enough to hold several other, empty beds, and a few carefully constructed holes in the ceiling let in fresh air and sunlight. It's all quite peaceful and utterly unfamiliar.

“It’s not exactly the Rosewood Retreat,” the elf says with the tone of someone looking down their nose at their current establishment, “but the druid was a semi-capable healer. She managed to get you patched up.”

You realize that your various body aches and pains have indeed subsided, leaving you with the normal weighty exhaustion you always experience after transformation.

“Thank you,” you say, turning back to face him, and realize that you don’t even know his name.

A corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk and he stands, bowing with a small flourish.

“Astarion, at your service.”

You gather your strength to answer.

“Tav,” you reply finally, reluctantly. This immediately piques his interest.

“Really?”

Pursing your lips, you nod.

“Fascinating.”

He seems to murmur this to himself. You drop your eyes, finding the raised skin of your shackle-scarred wrist once more, tracing the all-too-familiar contours with a light finger.

Another gift your master had given you: an outcast’s name, shared by criminals and despised people everywhere. Anywhere you went in the Sword Coast, you were branded as someone who was dangerous or reviled enough to be ejected from your home and family.

He had ensured that, even if you managed to escape, you wouldn’t even have a name of your own. Astarion, with his bright eyes studying you like a snake watches a mouse, appears to be familiar with this.

“Well, that’s a story for another time, it seems,” he says with finality, verbally closing the book on your name situation, at least for the moment.

You look up at him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He’s pointedly inspecting a fingernail, flicking a tiny speck of dirt off it.

He doesn’t…he doesn’t care?

The very idea baffles you, but you decide not to push. Gods know he’s already done enough for you, something that you need to acknowledge.

“You didn’t have to bring me here, especially not after…”

You trail off, unwilling to put into words what you can do.

“Nonsense,” Astarion waves away your apology, looking up from his hands. “If I rejected out of hand everyone who threatened me a little then I’d never get anywhere with anyone. Water under the bridge, my friend.”

There’s a glint in his eye that makes you uneasy, but a quick assessment of your situation leaves you little choice.

“In that case, I’ll ask properly, like a civilized person,” you say. “Astarion, would you allow me to accompany you to Baldur’s Gate?”

He smiles, a grin that’s all fang and no mirth.

“Tav, it would be my absolute pleasure.”

Astarion points you towards a set of clean clothes set out on the end of one of the other beds, and you spend the next few minutes changing behind a folding wooden screen while he catches you up on your current situation.

From what Astarion can tell, the reason you two can walk in the sun is thanks to an illithid worm inserted before the nautiloid crashed. While it holds the promise of almost certain death (and soon), he plans to take every advantage given to him, and you silently agree. If a mind-flayer worm was what allows you freedom from your master, however brief, you’ll take it. You just won’t allow yourself to come under another’s control again, but that is a problem that you’ll deal with when it presents itself.

For now, you are currently in a druid’s grove not too far from the crash site, but there’s trouble brewing. Goblins camped nearby have been launching raids on the grove, so in response the druids are ejecting all outsiders and conducting something called the rite of thorns.

“It sounds about as pleasant as the druids act,” Astarion says acerbically. “The sooner we leave them to it, the better.”

You emerge from behind the screen, tugging at the robes. They’re supple leather and some sort of hardy fabric, clearly used but clean and in good repair. Although they hang off your bony frame a little, they’re leagues better than anything you’ve had for years.

While you’re overwhelmed with the feeling of wearing real clothes that actually offer comfort and protection, Astarion eyes you critically.

“Not the most flattering outfit I’ve ever seen,” he says, then shrugs one shoulder. “No matter, we can always stop by Facemaker’s when we get to the city, it’ll do for now.”

You stare at him out of the corner of your eye, baffled.

What sort of life does he live as a spawn that he can worry about clothes? You wonder.

Before you can ask, Astarion heads for a door carved directly into the wall that you had missed earlier.

“Come on,” he says. “We’d best get going before these druids trap us under a briar.”

You have to trot a few steps to catch up with him, still processing everything. Going from under your master’s thumb to freedom is dizzying and overwhelming, and part of you is grateful to have someone to follow.

He’s not in charge of me.

You remind the skittish, fearful part of you, the part that calls the monster more often than not, that you’re still free. Allowing yourself to follow in the wake of someone more experienced and well-adjusted until you can get a handle on yourself doesn’t mean you’re trading one master for another.

That frightened part of you protests, but you’re able to keep it calm for now, like a ranger calming a spooked horse.

The door opens with the grind of stone on stone, and suddenly your senses are flooded with input. Fresh air, warm with sunlight (sunlight!) and carrying birdsong, breezes in to surround you. A few strands of your hair wave around your face, tickling your skin, and you can’t stop the way your jaw drops a little and you stop where you are, soaking it all in.

Astarion turns, annoyed at the holdup, but pauses when he sees you. He looks away, crossing his arms and clearing his throat while you step into the grove’s clearing.

The druidic chants weave around you, the magic practically tangible, an electric taste on your tongue. Flowers burst from thick grass everywhere you look, animals roaming freely around you.

Everywhere is flooded with warmth and light.

It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

When you turn back to Astarion he looks distinctly annoyed, and he rolls his eyes when he sees the tears threatening to spill from yours.

“Come on,” he says, beckoning you to get a move on. “Try to keep it together, I managed to keep our little secret from the druids so far, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Chastened, you nod, arranging your hair around your neck to cover the scars there.

“How’d you manage that?” you ask in a whisper, following his weaving path up out of the grove.

He shrugs.

“A little luck and keeping the blanket tucked up under your chin. It wasn’t hard to tell them you caught a chill.”

“Oh, right.”

You sometimes forget that you run much cooler than a mortal. Following Astarion through a crowd of distraught tieflings (tieflings in a druid grove?) you’ve almost made it to the gate when an accented voice calls out.

“Astarion!”

You both turn to see a dwarven druid jogging towards you. She has black hair cropped just above her shoulder and faded tattoos across her face. She gives you a small smile and nod.

“You two heading out, then?”

To your surprise, Astarion steps closer to you and takes your hand. You stiffen immediately, trying to subtly pull away. His grip is tight, bruising if you were human, and you feel panic creeping up.

“We are,” he says smoothly, smiling as if he isn’t white-knuckling your hand despite your minute attempts to free yourself. “Thank you so much for your hospitality, we wouldn’t want to impose any longer. You’re all so busy.”

“That we are,” the dwarf replies, “still, I’m glad I was able to help your wife.”

She looks at you and your mind short-circuits.

You hate yourself for your immediate, gut reaction.

He wouldn’t like that.

Despite physical freedom from your master, you are quickly coming to realize that he has a mental hold over you that wasn’t broken by the tadpole in your head. It makes you a sickening combination of angry, terrified, and despondent, but you push past it and force yourself back to the present.

Astarion bids goodbye to the healer who had helped you, and you manage to give her a weak smile. You and Astarion walk out the gate, hand in unwilling hand.

You manage to make it a hundred yards into the wilderness before your skin is crawling and your empty stomach is about to try to expel whatever acid it holds. With a jerk, you rip your hand from Astarions. The sudden, vicious movement takes him by surprise, and he turns with an offended expression.

“Are you quite alright?”

You know you must look a sight, every muscle tense and lip curled in a feral snarl, fingers running roughly over your hand as if to scrub his touch from it.

“What was that?” you demand. The beast inside stirs, scenting the air.

Astarion blows out a breath, spreading his arms.

“Isn’t it obvious? A man shows up with an unconscious, severely injured woman in his arms. That will raise a few eyebrows no matter where you go. I simply headed off some prying questions by saying you were my wife and you were hurt when a giant mind flayer ship fell out of the sky.”

You can follow his logic but it still turns your stomach. You don’t know if it’s because of the conditioning you’d been put through or just the small thread of steel you have left rebelling at the idea of belonging to a man, either way, you aren’t willing to let your travels with Astarion start out like this.

“No,” you say firmly. Just using the word feels unfamiliar and wrong, so you force yourself to practice and say it again.

“No, you can’t do that.”

Astarion rolls his eyes dismissively.

“It’s really not a big deal—”

“No.”

It’s getting easier now, and you draw yourself up from the crouched, hunted creature position you had been in.

“If something like that ever happens again, figure it out. Tell them I’m your sister or something.”

Matter closed, you stalk past him. If your heart beat then it would be pounding. You’re flooded with adrenaline, mind whirling. You did it, you stood up to someone. A small smile flickers across your lips, and a tiny, infinitesimal spark of hope starts to burn in your chest.

Behind you are quick steps, then suddenly Astarion is at your side, speaking into your ear.

“But that wouldn’t be nearly as much fun,” he says lowly. You whirl on him, teeth bared, ready to show him how important your new boundaries are, but he backs off immediately, a dark grin on his face.

“Just teasing,” he says, holding up his hands placatingly. “Come on now, surely becoming a spawn didn’t suck your sense of humor away too.”

You hesitate, trying to remember.

“I…don’t know,” you say finally. “I’m not sure if I had one.”

The shadow of familiarity crosses Astarion’s face. His hands lower, and he nods slowly. Then, like a dog shaking off water, he straightens and shrugs his shoulders.

“Well, we have a journey ahead of us,” he says. “We’re a good week out of Baldur’s Gate, and that’s if the roads are clear, which I hear they are not. Maybe we can find out on the way.”

You also straighten, tilting your head a little. Maybe he just sees you as a pet project to pass time on the road but maybe, just for now, you could let him think that.

For the first time you consider what freedom might actually mean, aside from getting away from your master’s sick control.

I can figure out who I am, you think. I can figure out who I want to be.

The spark of hope grows, just a little.

#astarion x you #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #wrap my teeth #wmt chapter 2

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