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colonelarr0w

1 year ago

Can you write one where Astarion realizes that Tav is acting strangely because it's actually Orin and the actual Tav is kidnapped by her?? Thank you so much and I love your work!!

A/N - Oh my god I absolutely adore the trope of kidnapped lover being rescued (the parasites in me crave the angst). I hope you like this, I had a lot of fun writing it! So thank you @fanficlov-3-r <3

I Know You

Preview - "And he knew that the others knew that little fact as well, considering that Shadowheart had already whispered to the others something along the lines of, '(Y/N) isn't amongst us.'"

Warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, canon BG3 violence

Word Count - 3.9k

Can You Write One Where Astarion Realizes That Tav Is Acting Strangely Because It's Actually Orin And

Astarion prided himself on his ability to have memorized everything about you, from how your nose scrunched when you saw something you disliked to how your eyes sparkled when you noticed him staring at you from across the fire. It was those little things that simply made you … well … you.

Which was why he found it very offputting when he noticed your excessive alcohol intake while attending a Tiefling party. Yes, you liked to indulge in a glass of wine or two while you chatted happily with Astarion or any of your other companions – but never had he seen you cradle an entire bottle of wine to yourself and drink it in its entirety.

But that behavior was only one of multiple that he had noticed throughout the night; you were dancing with any Tiefling who offered their hand, you seemed to stray away from him and the others throughout the night, and the smile you wore did not reach your eyes in the slightest. It seemed fake, similar to the smiles that Astarion had once flashed at you to get your clothes off.

“Is it just me or does (Y/N) seem a little … off?” Shadowheart comments, her eyebrow raising as she watches you indulge another Tiefling in a drunken dance. You stumble over both your feet and his own, a detail that both she and Astarion narrow their eyes at.

For an oh-so-grateful leader, you were being careless tonight.

Astarion’s eyes follow those of Shadowheart’s, landing on you just as you are finishing a dance with your fifth Tiefling of the night. He bows to you shakily, and in return, you curtsy – another move that Astarion had never thought he would see you perform.

“I must say that I agree with Shadowheart. Excuse me for a moment,” Astarion abandons his half-empty wine glass, sliding it across the bar. The bartender raises a brow at Astarion, but says nothing.

You chuckle heartily as a Tiefling female approaches you, in her hands a sparkling glass of champagne. You take it from her the moment it’s offered, just about to bring it to your lips before a pale hand clasps over your shoulder.

“Ah-ah darling, I think that’s enough with the drinking for one night,” Astarion says with a fanged smile, angling himself so that he’s able to pluck the champagne glass from your hands quickly. You turn to him, eyebrows pinched together in an expression that mixes frustration and shock – as if you had been caught doing something that you shouldn’t.

“Come off Astarion, I can indulge if I so choose,” you retort quickly, fingers extending towards your glass. Astarion lifts his arm, the glass just barely out of your reach. “You are indulging tonight, are you not?”

He chuckles, his chest rumbling against your shoulder as his scarlet eyes rake over your figure. Something was wrong, it wasn’t just your general composure – it was everything down to the very way that you stood on your own two feet.

“While that is true, I am watching what I indulge in,” Astarion says, already glancing at Shadowheart, who nods knowingly. She mumbles something inaudibly then to Gale, and soon a secret message is relayed over all of your companions.

The Tiefling female had long since left your side, only adding to your annoyance that Astarion had come to your side. You turn sharply to face him, eyes narrowing at him.

“And just explain to me why you thought it necessary to disrupt my fun?” you snap, glaring daggers into the vampire who stands in front of you. Astarion merely sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. His eyes flicker over you again, and it is in that moment that he realizes something … you were most certainly not you.

And he knew that the others knew that little fact as well, considering that Shadowheart had already whispered to the others something along the lines of, “(Y/N) isn’t amongst us.”

“Because I know you (Y/N), and right now,” Astarion pauses only to yank you closer, lowering his lips to your ear. “You are not who you say that you are.”

You freeze in his arms, eyes flickering to look at him. The crease in your eyebrows vanishes, your expression of frustration replaced now by one of shock. “What are you on about?”

“Oh come on now, don’t play dumb with me,” Astarion growls, his grip over your wrist tightening, “I know (Y/N), and she would never indulge in such things of her own accord.”

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, not protesting as a very angered Astarion drags you out of the Tiefling party. He is quickly flanked by Shadowheart and the others, none of whom offer you looks of sympathy – if anything, they look just as angered as the vampire in front of you.

The moment that your feet touch camp, your wrists and ankles are promptly tied by Karlach, who offers you no answers even as you demand to know what in the hells is going on. Astarion stands quietly at her side, his arms folded over his chest whilst his mind promptly races.

Where were you? Who was sitting in your place? Where the hells were you?

With a singular wave of his hand over your body, Gale reveals Orin to the others, then steps back and glares down his nose at her. In response, her lips only turn upward in a grin, one that sends a shiver down the spines of those that surround her.

“Where is–”

“Oh please, save me the dramatics,” Orin says with a roll of her eyes, adjusting herself so that she sits comfortably. Her attention moves to Astarion, her smile widening at the sight of the expression that he wears.

“You have five minutes to answer our questions before–”

Orin’s head tilts in Lae’zel’s direction, her eyes crinkling as her smile widens impossibly further. Her lips part, a delighted chuckle falling from her lips. “Before what? You kill me? If I die, (Y/N)’s location dies with me.”

In a flash of white and silver, the blade of a dagger is pressed against the skin of Orin’s neck, pressed down just hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. Astarion kneels in front of Orin, narrowed eyes glaring daggers into her as his lips pull back in an angered growl.

“You will reveal (Y/N)’s location lest you want to end up a paled mess on the ground.” He was shocked by how much your disappearance had affected him – especially considering that he was supposed to be keeping his affection for you a secret from the others.

There was a reason behind his secrecy, however, a reason that you had agreed with when he had first proposed the idea to you. It was for your safety, for your protection. But it seemed like even with that … he still couldn’t keep the one thing that kept him sane safe.

Orin chuckles, leaning forward so that her nose just barely grazes his own. He can feel her breath as it fans over his face – it disgusts him.

“Is that so?” Her head tilts, another delighted chuckle bubbling up her throat and spilling over her lips. Astarion pushes the blade further against her, ignoring the yells of warning delivered by the other members of the party.

His eyes narrow, his eyebrows pinch together, and his expression hardens. Orin only chuckles again, sighing dreamily in a way that reminds Astarion of a hopelessly lovesick girl. Gods, what he would give to plunge the blade of his dagger into her neck.

“Fine, but I hope you know I’m not yielding because of your … intimidation,” Orin murmurs, pouting childishly as Astarion pulls her to her feet, still glaring at her. He says nothing as he drags her past the others, not checking over his shoulder to see that the others have followed him.

< … >

Another chilled shiver runs up the length of your spine, using your vertebrae as a ladder. You turn uncomfortably onto your side, trying once again to tug your ankles from their shackles. All you’re met with is the sound of rattling metal.

It had been a few hours … or perhaps even a few days since you last saw the others. You didn’t know – perhaps time worked differently when you were captured.

The last you remembered, you were walking silently along a forest pathway with Astarion a few feet behind you. You were engrossed in the beauty of the willow trees that hung silently over you, their branches serving you the beautiful luxury of shade that covered you from the sun’s blaring rays.

Just as you turned a corner in the forest, a cold hand that wasn’t Astarion’s clasped over your own, tugging you away into a forest patch. One good knock to the side of the head … and that was the last that you were able to clearly remember.

When you awoke, your ankles were shackled to a wall and your wrists were bound with rope, rubbing uncomfortably against your skin and leaving behind angry red marks.

Your body had been littered with marks; cuts, bruises, and gashes. At first, they hadn’t hurt you at all – but you blamed that entirely on your adrenaline. Now every cut burned, every bruise ached, and every gash felt as though it would never stop bleeding.

Surely every vampiric creature within a 50-mile radius could smell your blood … especially considering how much of it lay in a disgusting puddle surrounding your body.

A shaky breath escapes you, one that you surely hoped would be your last. Your teary eyes flicker around the cell that you’d been thrown into; the cell that lacked even so much as a window. You were completely disconnected from the outside world, and for a singular moment, you thought that maybe you had died.

And maybe you were okay with that now … with dying.

Even though for so long you had tried your hardest to protect everyone – practically throwing your life down on the line for the lives of your companions – being captured was making you realize something.

Maybe they didn’t care about you nearly as much as you cared about them.

If they cared, they would be searching for you. If they cared, you wouldn’t be bleeding out in some dank old cell with no way to know what time of day it was. If they cared … they would prove it, wouldn’t they?

A choked sob claws its way up your throat, legs curling inward. You wrap your arms around them, hugging them against your chest as your body curls inward into a fetal position.

They didn’t care. Not Gale, not Karlach, not Lae’zel, not Shadowheart.

Not even Astarion.

Astarion …

After everything that you had done for him. You had spared him that morning while walking with Shadowheart. You had let him stay in your camp even though he spat venomous insults each time you interacted politely with him. Hells, you had even let the damn man feed on you.

In exchange for your blood, he was letting you rot alone in a cell.

So much for helping others, you think quietly to yourself, tears slipping down your cheeks as your lashes flutter shut. A gentle numbness spreads over you as if someone had draped a blanket over you. It felt nice. It felt safe.

Your shoulders relax, your lips part.

One gentle breath falls from your lips before all goes silent.

< … >

“Come on now, I’ve led you right to where she is! The least you can do is entertain a conversation,” Orin complains loudly, huffing childishly as Astarion continues shoving her forward.

There was no lie to her words, she had led Astarion and the others to where she had thrown you – a dimly lit dungeon hallway that was only filled with the sounds of low groans and dripping water, but even those had become scarce the longer that they walked.

“The only thing I’ll entertain is your demise,” Astarion bites out, though he desperately wishes that he had kept his mouth shut. Orin doesn’t fail to catch the tremble in his voice – the vulnerability that seeps from his words.

Her lips curl, another delighted chuckle rumbling somewhere deep inside of her chest. Her eyes flicker to catch a glimpse of Astarion’s profile, her chuckle deepening as she notices the emotional turmoil sketched into his features.

“I wonder what you will do to me when you realize that she’s–”

“Hush,” Astarion hisses, reaching down and yanking the bonds around Orin’s wrist. The rub of the rope against her skin is enough to silence her. “Not another word out of you, wench.”

Orin stifles the small whimper of pain that had threatened to fall from her lips, instead turning to the cell that they were nearing; your cell.

At the sight of the metal bars and uneven stones, she giggles. Astarion passes her off to Shadowheart, ignoring the cleric’s protests as he approaches the cell.

“Oh shit.”

The world seems to go completely silent at the sight that lies before Astarion’s eyes, a sight that he immediately wishes that he could forget.

You lay on your side with your back facing the cell’s door, blood – your blood – surrounding you in a crimson puddle. The bits of skin that Astarion can see are littered with cuts and bruises, your legs covered in gashes that continue to drip with fresh blood.

In any other situation, Astarion would have marveled at both the sight and smell of your blood … perhaps even allowed himself to indulge in it.

But now?

Gods, he had never been more disgusted by any one sight or smell.

“Astarion? What’s – oh my Gods,” Karlach raises a hand to her mouth, palm covering her lips as she gazes upon the same sight as Astarion. The others join her, and each of them falls silent. “You take … her … and get out of here.”

Shadowheart nods, shooting Orin a sharpened glare before tugging the shapeshifter back down the way that they had come, ignoring her yells of protests and the way that she struggles against the ropes that bind her wrists together.

With one tug at the already worn-down metal, Karlach disconnects the bars of the cell. She steps inside, carefully approaching you before copying her previous actions and removing the shackles from around your ankles.

“(Y/N)?” she murmurs down to you, lightly shaking your shoulder while simultaneously trying to be sure that she does not burn you – the last she wants is to add to your injuries.

She’s pushed aside by Astarion, who kneels beside you and feels his breath hitch at the sight of your paled face. Your cheeks have lost their usual rosy color, replaced instead by a white that looked as though it could rival the color of his hair.

“Shit,” is the only thing that he’s able to say properly before he scoops you into his arms. He shakes on his feet for a moment, the sudden weight in his arms debilitating his balance. He says nothing as he strides past the others, making a beeline for the exit.

< … >

The first thing that you feel is a dull ache, then followed by a wave of pain that has you shooting upright and promptly vomiting onto whatever surface happens to be beside you. The moment you’ve finished emptying your stomach, a piece of cloth is offered to you by a pale hand – a familiar one this time.

Hesitantly, you take it, dabbing the cloth against your mouth before looking up to who had handed it to you.

“Astarion?”

“That would be my name, yes darling,” Astarion responds, though his tone doesn’t hold his usual flirtatious lilt that you had grown so used to. No, he sounds exhausted … it made you wonder just how long he had sat at your bedside.

Your eyes roam over him, taking note of the tiny, barely-there bags that rest beneath his eyes. For a man who cared so deeply about appearance, he surely looked as though he had let himself go … likely because of you.

As much as you wish to take him into your arms and comfort you, a fleeting thought passes through your mind — he had taken his sweet time in finding you.

If the roles had been reversed, and it had been Astarion who was taken from you, you already knew that you would have searched Heaven and Earth trying to find him. No stone would have been left unturned, no witness left unspoken to … you would have stopped at nothing.

But it felt as though Astarion hadn’t cared enough, if he had, you wouldn’t have been as badly wounded as you were. You wouldn’t have laid in that cell for as long as you have, not that you knew the length of time in which you had been missing anyway.

Astarion’s head lifts at the sound of you rustling, body scooting back from him until your spine rests against the headboard of your bed. You lift your knees to your chest, hugging around them.

“Darling?”

You remain silent, but you allow your eyes to raise to meet his awaiting gaze. He waits patiently, though you can’t help but feel as though he’s analyzing you.

“How long have I been gone?” you ask. Astarion pauses, scarlet eyes flickering away from you. He swallows, you can see the emotional turmoil that swims in his eyes. Answer me, you usher in your mind.

“Orin wouldn’t tell us,” Astarion answers honestly, voice wavering as he recounts his angered questioning of the shapeshifter. She had only giggled in his presence and “answered” his question with another question of her own.

You remain silent, nodding to yourself as you glance down at the bandages that adorn your arms and legs. It makes you wonder if Astarion had patched you himself … or perhaps he had made one of your other companions do it.

You lift your head, noticing now that Astarion’s attention was focused elsewhere. His expression looks identical to your own — caught in his own mind. Guilt.

Did he feel guilty?

“Does anything—“ he pauses to clear his throat, “—anything hurt you?”

”Just my arms and legs,” you answer. Astarion nods, inhaling deeply and shifting in his chair. For some twisted reason, you want him to stand up and leave. Maybe it was to further prove your point, or maybe you just wanted to be alone.

You’d never really know the true answer.

He hums, nodding to himself before he shifts again. For a fleeting moment, he debates on whether or not he should stand and exit — it was clear that you wanted your space anyway.

Astarion knew you … and he knew that right now, you certainly didn’t want him around. Never were you short with him, but your tone insinuated that you wanted nothing to do with him.

Not that he could honestly blame you.

And so, he stands from his chair. You don’t lift your head to look at him again … telling.

“Why did you take so long to come for me?”

He freezes, feeling as though someone had doused him in freezing water. His back stands rigid; you could see the way that his spine visibly tenses the moment that his mind processes what it was that you had asked him.

You snap your jaw shut the moment that the words fall from your lips, regret filling your senses. Sheepishly, you look down, staring at your lap and screwing your eyes shut.

You freeze at the feeling of arms wrapping over your shoulders, tugging you against a chest that you had spent many nights resting against. His skin felt cold against yours, a welcome contrast to the heat that was currently making you very uncomfortable.

Astarion’s cheek rests against the side of your head, his hands squeezing at your waist while also being mindful of the injuries that you had sustained. He sighs shakily into your hair, feeling himself relax as he feels you reciprocate his embrace.

“The moment that I realized that I was not interacting with you, I went out to find you,” Astarion confesses, holding you tighter as he recounts the fear in the moment when he realized that you were not you.

You remain silent, simply soaking up the comfort that Astarion’s arms provides you with. Your head rests comfortably in the junction that connects his neck and his shoulder, nose buried into his neck.

“You have … absolutely no idea how frightened I was,” he whispers, his voice so low that it even the rustle of the blankets overpowered his words. His arms shake where they rest around your waist, his fingernails just barely digging into the exposed skin of your waist. “The prospect of losing you–”

“Astarion.”

He pauses, feeling you shift in his arms. Without any word of protest, he releases you, settling onto his knees on the bed in front of you. You adjust yourself, then reach out to take his hands into your own.

Astarion flinches. You pause, waiting for him to say something to you. He doesn’t, and so you take it as an okay to continue. Your fingers squeeze his own, the action directing his eyes to your own.

You stay silent for a second or two, simply taking in the way that Astarion’s eyes soften at you. His usually sharp scarlet eyes are glazed over now with a new emotion – guilt. Guilt over not being there for you, guilt over not saving you sooner …

… guilt that you had gotten hurt.

“Darling, if I had the chance to save you sooner, know that I would have taken it without a second of hesitation,” Astarion admits, shifting an inch closer to you. You feel the tears building along your waterline, your teeth catching your bottom lip as you attempt to suppress the sobs that begin to bubble up somewhere in your chest.

One of his hands releases yours, hesitantly laying against your face. He thumbs away the tears in your eyes, sighing as you crumple and reach for him again. Astarion doesn’t waste a single second, wrapping you in his arms and resting his chin against the top of your head.

“I thought that,” you hiccup, “you and the others had forgotten about me.”

His arms tighten around you at that declaration, chest promptly collapsing it on itself as he realizes just how scared you had been. He doesn’t want to imagine what you must have been thinking in that cell, likely thinking about if you would ever be saved.

If he would ever come for you.

“Never,” he whispers into your hair, fingers stroking comforting circles into the small of your back. “I would never forget you, ever.”

“You are the first thing in my entire life that makes me feel … feel something. Something other than burning hatred. You make this wretched world worth living in.”

You squeeze at him, hands bunching up his shirt from behind. He doesn’t bring attention to it, letting you cling to him with as much force as you need.

“And I’m not going to let you go. Not now, not ever,” he promises you. You close your eyes, sighing shakily through your nose. He can feel your nod against his chest, his cheek leaning further into your hair.

And that night, when the glistening moon hung over your tent and signaled to your companions that it was time to rest, Astarion remained at your side – fulfilling his promise.

He wasn’t going to let you feel that scared again. Not now, not ever.

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colonelarr0w bg3 bg3 x reader astarion bg3 astarion astarion x reader astarion acunin x reader astarion ancunin x reader astarion fanfiction astarion fanfic astarion x tav astarion acunin baldur's gate 3 x reader baldur's gate 3 fanfiction bg3 fanfiction

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colonelarr0w

1 year ago

Just thinking about Astarion as a personification of the trope "unamused until my S/O walks into the room."

Just imagine it.

Karlach had practically insisted that the group rest at a nearby tavern following a successful battle against a particularly nasty band of goblins. Nobody dared protest with her, not when you smiled and nodded happily along with her idea.

That led you and the rest of your companions to a small, rundown tavern on the outskirts of the town you had visited.

To be fair, Astarion had never been a fan of spending time in crowded places -- that much had been evident from the very start. You had always noticed that on the nights where you and the others gathered around the camp's fire Astarion would retire for the night.

You never pushed him, and for that he was grateful. And after all, he would have you to himself soon enough. You always sought him out after spending time with the others, ready to sleep curled up against his side and whisper to him underneath the moon's glow.

But this time was different, now he was surrounded by lowly creatures that he couldn't be paid to interact with. They danced happily and drank with one another, their happiness only adding to Astarion's very visible frustration.

He stands off to the side, his arms crossed firmly over his chest while his hardened scarlet eyes roam over the tavern's patrons. Shadowheart, Gale, and Lae'zel seem to be enjoying themselves, drinking happily and engaging in pleasent conversation. Karlach is most definitely enjoying herself, indulging in the tavern's ale and laughing heartily.

Astarion's ears perk at the sweet sound of your laughter, his eyes flickering to you. You were talking with the tavern's bartender, lips curled upward at something she had said to you.

The sight is almost instant; Astarion's eyes soften, the crease in between his brows vanishes, and the scowl on his lips is replaced by a gentle smile. He leans a bit more comfortably against the tavern's wall, attention focused on you.

He may despise going on, but to see you smiling and happy? Maybe going out wasn't so bad after all.

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colonelarr0w astarion acunin astarion x tav astarion fanfiction astarion bg3 astarion x reader bg3 bg3 fanfiction bg3 drabble bg3 x reader baldur's gate 3 baldur's gate 3 x reader baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

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colonelarr0w

1 year ago

Astarion, once he's comfortable with you, is definitely the type of man to sleepily reach for you when he realizes that you've rolled out of his arms at night.

Like the moment, and I mean the moment, that he doesn't feel you wrapped up in his arms, he's up. Sure, he's groggy as all hell and he can't properly see anything around him -- but all he knows is that he's not holding you when he most definitely should be.

He'll push himself up onto his elbows, squinting to see that you've turned yourself away from him and rolled out of his arms. Your back is turned to him, but he knows that it wasn't intentional.

With a fanged yawn, Astarion reaches for you again. His arms loop around your waist and turn you around, tucking your head beneath his chin. Instinctively, your legs tangle with his own, your arms adjusting to wrap around his midsection.

He grins to himself, content again.

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colonelarr0w astarion fanfic astarion x reader astarion fanfiction astarion bg3 astarion bg3 x reader bg3 fanfiction baldur's gate 3 x reader baldur's gate 3 fanfiction bg3 baldur's gate 3

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colonelarr0w

1 year ago

Just a random, domestic scenario that I thought of about Astarion and it made me soft enough to put into writing.

Picture this …

Astarion, especially after everything that he’s been through with Cazador, definitely has to re-teach himself what it means to love without primarily focusing on physical intimacy. Everything that he’s ever known about loving someone, or rather, everything that he thought that he knew about loving someone is restricted solely to sex.

Of course, his understanding of love drastically changes when you waltz into his life. You with your words of affirmation, you with your soft hands, you with the hugs and kisses that don’t necessarily lead to something more. It strikes him as odd … why is it that you saw past his body and looked at him? Really, truly looked at him.

In the beginning, it scares him. It invokes a feeling in him that he wasn’t able to define, and in truth, it scared him. It scared him that every time your arms wrapped around him or every time your lips touched his, he felt warm. For a second, for one singular split second, Astarion felt alive.

And because of that, he pushed you away. It scared him even more when you actually let him.

“We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” you’d told him one night. You were sitting up beside him, his head resting beside your thigh while his eyes stared up at the flickering night sky. “I have no problem waiting for you.”

And wait for him you did. Never once did you pressure him into anything, never once did you make him feel as if your touch was anything but comforting — you didn’t want him to revert back to the mindset that he had become so accustomed to. When he reached for you, you did the same. And if he didn’t, you never grew angry with him.

For that, he was thankful.

All of your waiting comes to a head one night at the camp’s fire. As usual, you sit at Astarion’s side, both of you sitting in a comfortable silence. His fingers itch to hold yours, but he wills himself to stay completely still — even though he wants to hold and touch you, something in him roots him to his place, preventing it.

“Astarion?” He turns at the sound of your voice, blinking away the glazed look that had pained his eyes in favor of looking at you instead. Your eyebrows pinch together, creasing the space between your eyes. “Are you alright love?”

“Fine,” he answers, voice dead and cold. You hum, nodding your head, not prying any further. Even though he certainly doesn’t want to speak about what plagues his mind, a small part of him also wished that you would pry — likely because he knew that eventually, he would crack.

But you don’t. Because you understand the possibility that he would shut himself away further, retreating back to a place where you might not be able to reach him. “Alright, but if something is bothering you, you know that I am here for you.”

“That’s what … scares me,” Astarion whispers, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the camp’s fire. You turn your head to him, gaze catching his profile, silently waiting for him to continue. “Why do you stay … knowing that what you give isn’t reciprocated?”

His question catches you off guard. Was that what was bothering him? His inability to reciprocate the love that you so easily gave to him? Your heart sinks, eyes softening as you angle yourself to look at Astarion fully. The intensity of your gaze makes him feel as if you’re looking through him — through the flirtatious facade that he had put up constantly and seeing Astarion. Seeing ‘Little Star.’

Your silence worries him; makes him feel as if what he had asked you was wrong. Your lips are pressed into a firm, thin line with your eyes focused so intently on his own. Astarion feels as if you’re analyzing him … judging him. But you’re not, and he knows that you’re not.

“Because I don’t do the things that I do expecting it to be reciprocated,” you answer easily, allowing your lips to turn upward into a soft smile. A smile that begins to melt away the iceberg of worry nestled somewhere in Astarion’s chest. You inhale deeply, holding your hand up with your palm facing Astarion. “Here, if you’re okay with it, I want you to lay your palm against mine.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow, confused. His gaze flickers between your upheld palm and your eyes, which hold no ounce of malice or ill intent. Hesitantly, and very slowly, he lifts his palm. And slowly, very slowly, he brings it towards your own, laying it flat against yours.

Shockingly, the touch doesn’t burn. It doesn’t leave behind a searing scar that he would look at with distaste. Instead, it fills him with a comfortable warmth, one that reinforces the genuine love that you feel for him. The love that extends far beyond physical intimacy, far beyond sex — far beyond anything that Astarion had ever experienced.

“Something as small as this,” you say, not moving your palm from against Astarion’s, “is enough reciprocation for everything.”

He remains silent, watching you. You smile, and as if running on autopilot, he returns it.

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colonelarr0w astarion acunin x reader astarion acunin astarion x tav astarion fanfic astarion fanfiction astarion bg3 astarion x reader astarion astarion baldurs gate 3 bg3 x reader bg3 fanfiction baldur's gate 3 x reader

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colonelarr0w

1 year ago

Listen, I am all for Larian’s beautiful cutscenes and character moments —

— but why the fuck weren’t we allowed to comfort Astarion after he murders Cazador?

(Consider this a little fix-it fic for that specific moment in game.)

His cries were heartbreaking to hear.

They echoed throughout the dungeon, bouncing off the walls and reverberating in your ears, making your chest tighten further and further.

His body shakes as his cries die down, shifting back to rest on his knees as his eyes blankly stare down at Cazador's corpse. Stray tears drip down his cheeks and mix with the blood that coats his face, yet he makes no move to wipe any of it away.

Astarion's neck and body stand rigid as his ears begin to ring, drowning out the sounds of the confused spawn that surround him. Their voices sound muddled in his head, buzzed little whispers that he can't decipher.

He's dissociated completely, separated from reality in a way that makes your heart crack. His eyes were blank, devoid of that usual mischievous spark that never failed to make you smile. Now he was a hollowed out man, one troubled by a past that he had just ripped himself from -- by means of murder.

Slowly, you approach him, your hands planted firmly against your sides so that you would not be tempted to accidentally overwhelm him. Your eyes rake over the entirety of his figure -- his blank eyes, his devoid expression, his hunched body. You couldn't put into words the heartbreak you felt simply by gazing at him.

"Astarion."

His head just barely tilts in your direction, as if he hadn't heard you properly. Unlike the voices of the spawn that surround him, your voice sounds as clear as day to him. It pierces through the ringing that buzzes in his ears, reaching him with a softness that feels so foreign yet so familiar at the same time.

You kneel down beside him, glancing quickly at Cazador's corpse before your gaze flickers to glance at his profile.

Silently, you reach your arms out, wrapping them around Astarion's neck and lightly pulling him against your chest. He doesn't fight against your touch. Oddly enough, he finds himself leaning into it even though every atom of his body wants to fight and thrash against you.

"I'm here," you murmur to him, tightening your hold on him. "I'm right here with you."

Astarion's hands grip onto your arms that encircle him, his eyes falling shut as he soaks up the warmth of your embrace like a dried sponge.

And in your arms, his world goes quiet. But not in a way that scares him. No, this touch ... your touch ... it comforts him.

It reminds him that his actions were worth it in the end, for he was able to turn and find you still at his side.

Tags :

colonelarr0w astarion x reader astarion fanfic astarion fanfiction astarion bg3 bg3 x reader bg3 fanfic bg3 fanfiction baldur's gate 3 baldur's gate 3 x reader baldur's gate 3 fanfiction bg3 bg3 astarion astarion ancunin astarion ancunin x reader astarion acunin x reader astarion acunin

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vividdreamer

1 year ago

hey yall i need some anrgy halsin fic recs. where are my hurt/comfort halsin fics at. i need my angst core halsin fics now.

Tags :

im a very dramatic person bg3 halsin baldurs gate 3 bg3 fic bg3 fics bg3 fanart halsin fanart halsin fanfic bg3 fanfiction bg3 fanfic idea bg3 fanfic writers

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gurokiitty

1 year ago

i want to write darkfics for bg3 as well :'3

would anyone be interested?

Tags :

so many ideas ehhehrhehhe bg3 bg3 fanfiction nashie's random thoughts

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bbyfacedx

1 year ago

eat your young

Chapter 1: starving, darling

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Astarion/The Dark Urge

Characters: Astarion, The Dark Urge, Original Female Character(s), Bhaal (Mentioned)

Additional Tags: Named Female Dark Urge, Vampire Ascendant Astarion, Vampire Adoption, Consensual Mind Control, Explicit Sexual Content, Canon-Typical Violence, Dysfunctional Family, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied Child Loss

Summary: The Vampire Ascendant of Baldur’s Gate and his Bhaalspawn bride decide to start a family of their own. In their foolish ignorance, they fail to realize that having a child is no different than crafting a blade only one of them can wield.

Read chapter 1 here on AO3!

Tags :

self rb bg3 nsft writing bg3 fanfiction durgestarion

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joy1579

11 months ago

for my own sanity I need a fic that’s just druid Tav trying to get the party to stop becoming panicked when they do the owlbear roar in battle like guys no i know it’s scary but try to remember it’s me and I’m on your side okay

i just need exasperated druid tav trying to cope with working with these characters because i keep thinking “could somebody with hands please for the love of all that is holy help astarion up.” and “no you don’t have to run away the owlbear is just me!” or “yeah i could carry this as a two tone giant animal but now I’m a 3 foot tall gnome and someone else is gonna have to take it from me”

Tags :

bg3 bg3 astarion bg3 druid baulders gate 3 bauldur’s gate bg3 tav druid tav gnome tav bg3 fanfiction fanfiction requests PLEASE

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bellanouva9

11 months ago

Chapter 13 : Get a Little Closer, so to speak

Previously: Prologue Tumblr Link for Prologue, Chapter One; Chapter Two, Chapter 3, Interlude Chapter 4 Chapter 5, Chapter 6 Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Interlude 2 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. NSFW, Ethical and non Ethical BDSM, noncon, some allusions to sexual violence, flashbacks to sexual violence, discussions of sexual violence, dubious boundaries, attempted sexual violence, dubcon, blood licking/blood kink, reference to cheating behavior, emotional trauma, group sex, sex, smutt, anxiety, negative thinking, sexual trauma, recovery, healing, angst,

Word count: 95K total WARNING: SMUTT this Chapter

Status: Ongoing

Chapter 14: Sept 18th 2024

Song of the Hour: Body - Sinead Harnett

NEW SMUTTY ART: @emperor-ofthe-sun (fully on AO3) edited after the cut

Entire Story Link on AO3 Spotify Playlist AO3

After the Jump!

Chapter 13 : Get a Little Closer, so to speak

The room was a symphony of shadows, the low fire casting flickering shapes on the walls that seemed to sway with the rhythm of their breath. Astarion leaned back in his seat, his crimson eyes gleaming with a sly intensity as he contemplated his next words. Firelight danced on the walls, casting serpentine shadows that coiled and stretched with each flicker. His voice, smooth as velvet, rolled through the air like a caress wrapped in a challenge. “Now, let us discuss another form of loyalty. One that might be a bit... unconventional for you,” he purred, his gaze lingering on Sima, his expression caught between a tease and a dare. “It requires a different kind of openness. A willingness to bare yourself to me, fully and without reservation.”

Sima, still seated in the oversized burgundy reading chair by the fire, met his gaze with a smirk tugging at her lips. Her skin seemed to glow in the fire’s warmth, her dark curls spilling over her shoulders like a waterfall of ink. She leaned in slightly, her voice teasing, with a hint of challenge beneath. “Softness? Vulnerability? Is that what you’re after now, Astarion? What’s this ‘test’ you speak of?”

“Ah, it’s quite simple, my sweet,” Astarion replied, his tone deceptively calm, each word threaded with an almost hypnotic cadence. “It’s about letting go—completely. Exposing every inch of your skin, your secrets, your fears. To give me everything, both mind and body.” His words flowed like a spell, designed to lure and entrap, his smile sharp and his eyes unyielding. “I want you to remove that nightdress and show me the full beauty that you are. I want you to know that nothing—absolutely nothing—could ever change my desire for you. Wouldn't that speak volumes, my darling?”

Sima chuckled softly, her eyes dropping to her midnight blue nightdress, fingers tracing the hem with a languid, almost mocking grace. “Astarion, are you seriously asking me to strip for you?” she asked, a playful lilt coloring her words, a challenge glinting in her gaze.

“Precisely that,” he answered, his eyebrow arching as his lips curled into a wicked smile that mirrored hers. But in his eyes, a darker intention simmered beneath, a hunger that could not be masked by his charm.

Sima laughed, a soft, sultry sound that seemed to vibrate through the room. “If you wanted to play, you could have just said so. But perhaps a touch of politeness is in order. Maybe... ‘please’?” Her tone was light, teasing, but there was no mistaking the underlying challenge.

His voice dipped lower, like molten honey laced with command, threaded with that dangerous charm that never failed to ensnare. “Please, my deliciously difficult minx. For me. Let me see every inch of you.”

Still seated in her chair, Sima’s fingers began a slow, deliberate journey along her thighs, making a show of the movement. Her hands moved languidly, almost tauntingly, as she lifted the hem of her dress higher, past her hips, over her full, deep brown breasts, and finally tugged it off over her head, sending a cascade of black ringlets tumbling around her face. She flipped her hair back with a confident toss, her posture relaxed and utterly self-assured.

Astarion hadn’t expected such swiftness from her; he had envisioned her drawing it out—turning it into a game. But the boldness of her action struck him like a spark to tinder, igniting a primal hunger within him. His eyes roved over her, unabashedly drinking in every curve, every shadow. “Very good,” he murmured, his grin widening, his gaze darkening with unspoken promises. “But I’m afraid that’s only the beginning... I want all of it, pet.”

Sima leaned back further into the chair, draping her legs over one of the arms, her body arching in a languid stretch that was as provocative as it was defiant. Her hair spilled down one side, her back curving elegantly against the chair’s cushion. “Oh... I suppose you mean this last, inconvenient scrap of lace.” She gestured to the thin black thong at her hips, a teasing smile curling her lips. “I might take it off... perhaps. Or maybe,” she purred, eyes locking onto his with a tantalizing glint, “you should come over here and use those pretty teeth of yours.”

Astarion’s grin twisted into something darker, almost wicked, his tongue tracing his fangs as if savoring the idea. He leaned forward, his fingers trailing down her thigh with a deliberate slowness, his touch feather-light but brimming with intention. “That is an enticing suggestion, my love,” he whispered. “But I think I prefer to savor the anticipation a bit longer. Besides, wouldn't it be far more thrilling if you let me do the honors... the old-fashioned way? Don't you trust me to handle such delicate fabric?”

Sima’s eyes half-closed, her voice dropping to a sultry murmur, her tone a mix of mockery and seduction. “Isn’t that what this little game is all about, Astarion? Trust? So, yes... I do.”

“Then lie back for me,” he commanded, his fingers trailing higher along the inside of her thigh, grazing the delicate lace that stood as the final barrier between his hand and her heated skin. His voice was a low, rumbling purr, a velvet promise that sent a shiver through her. “Relax. Let your arms fall to your sides.”

Sima’s breath hitched at the touch, her pulse quickening. She could feel the dampness between her legs, the lace clinging to her skin, a thin veil hiding the heat of her arousal. Her gaze met his, a flicker of defiance in her eyes, but the tension winding low in her belly betrayed her need. Slowly, she let her hands slip to her sides, fingers curling into the fabric of the chair. She felt exposed, but also a surge of excitement at the vulnerability, a dangerous thrill coursing through her veins.

Astarion’s hand hovered just above her skin, his breath catching. His eyes roamed over her body, taking in the rise and fall of her chest, the parted lips that struggled for air, the subtle tremor in her thighs. His expression was somewhere between reverence and hunger, and she found herself caught in his gaze. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, his fingers slipped beneath the lace, the fabric giving way to his touch. Sima’s breath left her in a rush as his fingertips made contact, gliding over the slickness gathered there, a soft, involuntary moan escaping her lips.

Astarion’s fingers found her clit, his movements unhurried, savoring every reaction he coaxed from her. The slow, circular motion was maddening, sending ripples of pleasure radiating outward, her body tightening with every stroke. “Shh... don't worry, sweet darling,” he whispered, his voice dark and rich, sliding through her mind like smoke. “I won’t rush. I want you to savor every moment, feel every breath, every stroke.”

Her hips moved on their own, arching up to meet his hand, chasing the friction, a soft gasp spilling from her lips. She could feel the heat spreading through her, her skin tingling as if every nerve ending was being brought to life. The fire crackled nearby, its warmth mingling with the heat radiating from her body. Her eyes fluttered, caught between wanting to watch his every move and the sheer pleasure pulling her under. She felt her cheeks flush, her breasts rising and falling with each shallow breath, her nipples tightening in the cool air and his gaze. His eyes drank them in, those crimson eyes focused as he licked his lips. She saw the intent there just before he lowered his mouth, his teeth catching one pert peak.

The sharp edge of pain shot through her, mingling with a wave of pleasure that made her clench around nothing and writhe beneath him. She couldn’t stop the soft cry that escaped, her back arching as if offering more of herself to him. His tongue soothed over the ache he'd created, a low, satisfied sound rumbling in his chest. The sensation of his fingers pressing more firmly now drew her deeper into the growing storm of her desire.

She could see him watching her, his gaze intense, tracking every shiver, every twitch of her lips, the way her expression shifted from challenge to surrender. She didn’t want to give in, to let him have this power over her, but gods, the way he touched her—each circle of his thumb, each press of his fingers, and the tantalizing scrape of his teeth—had her unraveling. She could feel the need building, her body craving more, demanding it.

His thumb circled her clit with a firmer, more insistent pressure, a delicious torment that had her toes curling. She felt his fingers slip lower, teasing her entrance. She moaned, her body instinctively pushing forward, seeking more of him. She wanted him inside, needed it like air. When he finally thrust two fingers deep into her, a cry tore from her lips. She clenched around him, her inner muscles pulsing as his fingers curled, finding that sensitive spot that sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through her.

Sima’s breath came faster now, her moans a symphony of need as she ground her hips against his hand, desperate for the rhythm he set. The delicious friction sent shivers down her spine, every touch sending electric sparks shooting through her veins. She could barely think, could barely breathe; all she knew was the sensation of his fingers inside her, curling and stroking, his thumb working her clit with agonizing precision. Her body was caught in a dance between tension and release, her mind lost in the haze of pleasure.

She could feel his breath hot against her neck, the brush of his lips hovering just close enough to leave her skin tingling. His voice, roughened with desire, murmured against her ear, "You'll... always feel... this." She could feel his teeth, just grazing her earlobe, a dangerous tease that made her breath hitch. "Whenever... you touch me," he continued, his tone like a dark spell wrapping around her. She shivered as his bite deepened, her gaze meeting his, his crimson eyes burning with a possessive fire. "Whenever... you touch yourself too."

His words sent a new wave of heat surging through her, her body tightening around his fingers, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She could feel the wetness spreading, her arousal coating his hand as she pulled him closer, her fingers digging into his back. Each thrust of his fingers was deliberate, relentless, a constant rhythm that drove her higher. She felt his lips brushing against her ear with every whispered breath, his voice low and growling, a command and a plea tangled together.

The sensations were becoming too much, her body trembling on the edge, her mind slipping away from her control. She could feel it building inside her, a pressure, a heat that curled in her belly and spread outward, winding tighter and tighter. She tried to hold on, to prolong the pleasure, but he knew exactly how to unravel her. His fingers quickened, his thumb pressing harder against her clit, and she felt the tension snap, her body convulsing around his hand. A cry ripped from her throat, her body arching, every muscle clenching as her orgasm tore through her like a storm.

Astarion watched her intently, his gaze dark and hungry, a wicked smile curling his lips as he felt her come apart beneath his touch. "Look at me, darling," he whispered, his voice like a silken snare tightening around her. "I want to see those beautiful eyes when you fall apart."

Her eyes snapped open, locking onto his, her pupils blown wide, her expression a mix of defiance and surrender. She hated how he still had this power over her, but she couldn’t deny the electric pull between them, the way he could draw out every last bit of her will with just a look. As her release crashed over her, her back arched, her body pressing into his hand as she cried out, her voice raw and unrestrained. The climax hit her like a wave breaking against the shore—overwhelming, drowning her in sensation. She felt her muscles pulse and tighten around his fingers, her wetness spilling over his hand, and Astarion groaned softly, his own body reacting to the intoxicating feel of her surrender.

But he didn’t let up. His fingers kept moving inside her, his thumb maintaining its relentless rhythm over her clit. "That's it, my love," he murmured, his lips grazing her neck with every breath. "Give it to me. Let me see you come undone, give me one more."

Sima’s moans filled the room, a crescendo of need and release, and she reached up, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Her lips met his in a desperate, hungry kiss, teeth grazing, tongues clashing, a frantic exchange of breath and want. Astarion responded in kind, his lips devouring hers, his fangs scraping her bottom lip, the sting sending another surge of heat through her.

His fingers moved faster now, curling and stroking deep inside her, finding that sensitive spot with ruthless precision. Her body tightened again, her climax building rapidly, an urgent wave ready to crash. She cried out, her voice breaking, her body trembling as she shattered around his fingers once more, her slick heat coating his hand, her cries echoing through the room.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathing heavily, their bodies pressed close, the air thick with the mingling of sweat and desire. Astarion’s eyes bore into hers, dark and hungry, his crimson gaze smoldering with barely restrained hunger. "You see?" he purred, his voice a dark, silky snare. “This is what happens when you give in, when you let yourself be mine.”

Sima's breath was ragged, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her climax, but her spirit wasn’t subdued—far from it. She matched his gaze, her lips curling into a sly, defiant smile. "Mine?" she echoed, voice drenched in challenge. "Don’t mistake this for surrender, Astarion. This is merely... an appetizer."

Astarion’s grin widened, a flicker of wicked amusement dancing in his eyes. “Ah, you naughty minx,” he teased, his fingers still tracing lazy, tantalizing patterns over her damp skin, keeping her on the knife’s edge between satisfaction and yearning. “Always wanting more. But tell me, love, what exactly do you hunger for next?”

She shifted in her seat, deliberately brushing her body against his, igniting a fresh wave of heat between them. “You mentioned something about vulnerability,” she murmured, voice low and sultry. “Perhaps it’s time you showed me yours.” Her eyes sparkled with a dangerous glint, a dare woven into every word.

Astarion's laughter was low, a deep rumble that vibrated through the space between them. "Vulnerable?" he repeated, his head tilting as if he were considering her request, his grin sharpening. “Oh, my darling, I’m always vulnerable to you... in the most deliciously dangerous ways.” He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear, his voice a seductive whisper. "And that’s why this game never gets old."

His lips were a mere breath away from hers, eyes locking with a gaze that promised both pleasure and peril. "But if it’s vulnerability you’re after," he continued, his hand sliding up to cup her jaw, thumb brushing over her lips with a teasing touch, “you’ll have to earn it.”

Sima's smile widened, her fingers curling around his collar, pulling him close until their lips were barely an inch apart. “You always think you’re the only one moving the pieces on the board,” she breathed, her tone both a taunt and an invitation. “But I’ve learned a trick or two myself.”

Astarion chuckled, the sound low and dark, threading through her veins like a promise. "Oh, I don’t doubt that for a second,” he replied, his lips grazing hers in a feather-light touch, teasing, tempting. “But remember, my sweet—every inch I give is a leash I hold. And I do so love to see you tug against it.”

Her hand slipped to his chest, fingers sliding down the fabric, feeling the tension coiled beneath. “And what happens when I pull too hard?” she whispered back, a wicked edge to her voice.

His eyes darkened, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. “Then, darling,” he whispered, his lips curling wickedly, “we’ll see which one of us breaks first.”

Sima sighed, rolling her eyes with exaggerated drama. "I was just being playful. But who knows? I might surprise even you with my scheming. The thing is... it's always better when we’re plotting together."

Astarion chuckled, the sound rich and almost affectionate. “Now that's a proposition I can sink my fangs into.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead, lingering longer than necessary, his lips cool against her heated skin. “You really are the most intriguing creature, my love. It’s a breath of fresh air to find someone who doesn’t want to cage me, but rather... revel in the chaos with me.”

Sima looked up at him, her smile soft but edged with a knowing glint. “Partners in crime, yet, eh?”

Astarion’s smile deepened, a genuine warmth seeping into his expression, an echo of old sentiments resurfacing. "Partners in crime, always,” he murmured. But his eyes held a dangerous gleam, a promise of what was yet to come. “But don’t think I’m loosening my grip just yet,” he added, his voice dropping lower, more intense. “I’ll let you feel that rush of freedom, Sima, that thrill of power... just to see how long it takes before you beg me to take it back. And tomorrow, I’ll begin showing you what that really means, to wield that power by my side.”

Sima’s smile was coy, her eyes narrowing with challenge. “We’ll see who’s begging who, won’t we?”

Astarion’s laughter was a low, sultry purr, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Oh, indeed we will, my sweet. Indeed we will.”

And as they stood there, tension crackling between them, they both knew that this was far from the end. It was merely another twist in their dangerous game, each of them wielding their desire like a blade, neither willing to back down. And for now, that was enough.

Tags :

astarion baldur's gate 3 bg3 ascended astarion bg3 astarion astarion fanfiction baldur's gate 3 fanfiction bg3 fanfiction astarion x reader astarion x tav baldur's gate 3 spoilers smut? ns/fw explicit erotica mature content dark smut vampire erotica dom/sub kinky fanfiction fan art digital art fantasy art illustration artists on tumblr fanfiction ao3 writing community writers of tumblr angst

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