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acozysoulwrites · 3 months

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A safe pair of arms | Astarion x fem!Tav

Description: Astarion laying in Tav's arms where he feels safe and cared for, something he isn't used to. Cuddling, fluff, all that lovely stuff.

The moon rises high above the camp, providing a cool blue lighting to the chilly evening. Leaves rustle in the breeze, and soft snores from all over camp can be heard just above the light taps of rain. There is a soft sort of glow that emits from Astarion’s tent. It enters the night gently, peacefully. Inside, lie two souls. They are intertwined in one another, tangled too deeply to ever be unraveled without being destroyed.

Tav lays with a book in her hand and a vampire atop her. Astarion is curled up under her arm, his head on her chest, eyes closed. A sort of peace lingered over him with every slow breath he drew.

Astarion felt every one of her heartbeats, he let them sink into his body until they reached his own unmoving heart. He focused on her breathing, how her chest rose and fell with every few seconds that passed. He’d forgotten what a heartbeat sounded like before all this, he’d forgotten much over the last two centuries. Even what it felt like to be held.

Tav turns the page and sighs softly, contently, and Astarion wonders how someone could actually sit here, without any entertainment expected of him, and enjoy his company. “I’ve nearly finished this book already” Tav speaks, disappointment lacing her words.

“Oh, pity. I only just stole that one for you two nights ago” Astarion frowns.

Tav smiles, a laugh threatening to escape her. It was true. Astarion had handed it to her, a proud smirk plastered on his face. It just, reminded me of you, he had said.

Astarion shifts in her arms, and she places the book aside. He hums a little at her touch as she reaches down to run her hand up and down his back, she finds the spot with the most tension and begins massaging.

“You know, besides that time you tried to kill me after the crash, you make such swell company” Tav teases.

Astarion feels a smile draw itself onto his face, and in the dim candle light, safety tucked away from the others, he lets it. He smiles up at Tav, his eyes soft and gentle, opposite of their usual glaring demeanor.

“Well” He looks down and clears his throat. “I’m rather glad I didn’t kill you that day, you’ve proven… most useful” He says.

Tav brings her hand to his head where she begins running her fingers through his beautiful white curls. Astarion closes his eyes once more, and they stay here until the rain stops, until the candle snuffs out, and until the sun trickles through the trees.

Tav nudges him, and the two of them crawl out of the tent. The sun hits his skin and its warmth begins to seep through his body. Astarion closes his eyes and soaks it all in. Every last bit. He’ll surely miss the sun if the tadpole doesn’t kill him first. He looks over to Tav and his heart lurches as much as a heart like his possibly can. Sure he’ll miss the sun, but he hopes with all that he is that he won’t have to miss his love.

#astarion #Astarion x tav #Astarion bg3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #fanfic #imagine #head canons #fluff #no smut #asexual writer

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thedomesticanthropologist · 29 days

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Someone sent an ask once about how a Tav could have a successful Asexual (sex repulsed) relationship with one of the companions and how they don't know how that would work when they always felt they couldn't have love without providing sex- even though its what they really wanted.

This broke my heart, and I've thought about it ever since answering. So, here's Part 2!

Romantic love without Sex, Gale and Tav

- Gale uses prestidigitation on Tavs clothes in the morning, warming them up so it's easier to transition out of the cozy blankets and into the day

-Kisses on hands, shoulders, cheeks, nose, forehead. Always soft, short, adoring. Sometimes he brushes his beard over Tavs skin teasingly, just to get a giggle out of them with the tickle of it

- Makes their favorite foods as often as possible, pays careful attention to their likes and dislikes and even keeps a notebook

- Dates on The Weave, magical illusions beyond Tavs wildest dreams. In fact, the two spend long hours laying in each other's arms talking about dreams and fantasies. Gale conjures them up, and never misses a detail.

- Shared baths. Washing each other's bodies, hair. Incredibly intimate but in a different way- he takes Tavs fingernails and gently works the dirt out from under each one. Tav scrubs his back where he can't reach and teases him about his lack of flexibility

- Polymorph: Sometimes Tav wants to cuddle, but they feel frightened or pressured (even though there is no pressure) just from their own worries and stresses and past trauma. Gale always offers to transform them or himself into an animal instead, so the two can snuggle without any worries of it being anything more than that.

- verbal reassurances: Gale will always let Tav know, as many times as they need to hear it. They are enough. They are enough. Just the way they are.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #gale #gale dekarios #gale romance #asexual things #asexual #sex repulsed #tav x gale #asexual tav

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monstersandmaw · 2 months

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First time romancing Astarion, and I'm all aboard the ace-spec interpretation of Astarion that I've seen floating around. As someone who's ace, I definitely resonated with him in this scene anyway. That hug reaction from Astarion. Oof.

And the fact that if you also romance Halsin, one of the dialogue options Astarion can give you is to say something like: 'it's not because... we haven't... in a while... is it?'... My heart cracked painfully at that, I'm not going to lie. I have spoken almost exactly that sentence before, worrying that just kissing and physical affection is not enough for someone who's not ace. To have that validated by Astarion was really special for me.

(aka, I really didn't get to know Astarion very well in my first playthrough because he didn't approve of my absolute doormat of a Tav (Kaerlyn the drow) and I didn't spend much time with him, but now with my sassy monk...? I get it. I totally get why you all love Astarion so much).

EDIT: additional dialogue from Raphael talking about Cazador indicates that it might be linked to vampirism (my own headcanon for vampires anyway is they can't get aroused without having fed recently, not just BG3 vamps, but in general)

[some poly-ace-astarion thoughts under the cut too]

I'm not 100% convinced that Astarion is really ok with the consensual poly situation in-game, because he famously doesn't say what he actually wants and is the king of manipulating others, especially in sexual situations (e.g. what Cazador sent him out to do, and how). I'm not sure if I'll reload a save and just have Halsin as a friend...

The dialogue when you check in with Astarion before the Halsin scene is... strained? Odd??? Maybe it's just me over-analysing it. He sounded strained though - his tone high pitched and more grandiose than he'd been in previous cut-scenes, where he was more softly-spoken. It sounded more like early-game Astarion to me...

Also, my dialogue options may have been totally randomised the next time I approached Astarion after a steamy night with Halsin, but they sounded kind of strained there too, and I got the 'I can never say no to you' one, which set my ace people-pleaser alarm bells ringing...

As someone who's poly-romantic but asexual, I can project/imagine here that Astarion has come to care for Tav a lot (more than he ever expected, for sure), and he genuinely wants Tav to be happy. He trusts Tav enough to know that Tav respects his autonomy and right to decide things for himself, and values Astarion for who he is, so Astarion is intellectually/conceptually happy for Tav to get something from Halsin that Astarion is not providing (sex), but perhaps emotionally that additional fact and dynamic is harder to deal with.

That could totally be me projecting though, because that's how I'd react if my husband (not ace) and I (ace) were in that situation (we've discussed it between us, actually XD). Feelings of guilt and inadequacy around sex itself are apparently very common with us ace folks, even in very healthy and happy relationships.

Anyway, that turned into a ramble I didn't intend on a rainy Sunday afternoon. I'm not looking to start any discourse about this though. If you don't see Astarion that way, or had a different experience and interpretation, that's all totally valid and I'm not trying to invalidate it in anyway.

#my two cents on ace-spectrum astarion #astarion #ace astarion #ace spectrum astarion #halsin x astarion x tav #my headcanons are gonna be a lot more nuanced than the game allows i think...#ace #asexuality #bg3

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depressionart · 6 months

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#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion simp #bg3 gale #karlach #laezel #shadowheart #bg3 wyll #halsin #minthara #minsc #jaheira #i am just curious #art #asexual #gale of waterdeep #bg3 tav

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nyrandrea · 6 months

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Hello! So sorry if I’m bothering you, but do you still accept Astarion x Tav requests? If so. I have a prompt for you if you care to read about it.

Basically, you know that moment in Astarion and Tav’s relationship where Astarion fully opens up to Tav about his trauma and his feelings regarding intimacy? Let’s say in this scenario, this Tav realizes that they feel the exact same way about intimacy after Astarion describes his revelations about it. Tav and Astarion have similar trauma and handled it in similar, but also vastly different ways: Astarion used intimacy as a survival tool and a manipulation tactic, and Tav used intimacy as a means of keeping those they love interested, as they feel they have no other redeeming qualities that would make people stay.

I think it’d be funny for two clowns to realize that neither ever wanted to bang each other yet and both just wanted a hug. It’s also touching, two abused souls finding comfort in each other and coming to terms with their boundaries.

Of course if such a scenerio is not one you are comfortable writing for, I completely understand! I couldn’t find your guidelines so I’m taking the risk and asking.

Your writing is spectacular by the way. I hope you have a nice day!

Yes, hi, hello, I LOVE the scene you're talking about so I decided to expand on it slightly for this prompt! We stan consent and boundaries in this house 😔✊

TW for vague mentions of past sexual abuse

Word Count: 1.3k

Enjoy!

xxx

In the quiet recesses of your memory, you held the echoes of a time when you had walked down the path that society prescribed, where passion was deemed a necessity and love an excuse for physical intimacy. But as you gazed into your past, you realized that the fire within you had been a mere illusion, a flicker of conformity.

Your heart longed for emotional intimacy, in the gentle touch of a hand or soft-spoken words was where you found the depth of affection you so desperately sought. It was in these moments that you felt most yourself, when your inner conflicts melted away and you embraced love in the way that you wanted to.

So, you succumbed to the pressures of a world that insisted on desire in exchange for such affections. You danced in the moonlight, your body a vessel for another’s longing, and yet, each touch had felt like a borrowed emotion. Your past was a stage where you had performed, but the script was never truly your own.

The turning point arrived like the soft whisper of truth in the night. In a moment of self-reflection that you thought might never come, and from the person that you least expected.

“Do you have a moment?” Astarion asked, softly adding, “I... I think we need to talk.”

You knew that tone all too well: apprehension from one that you hadn’t had sex with for a while. You braced yourself, swallowing a dry lump down your throat and turned to him with a smile.

“Are you alright?” you asked, already knowing full well what the answer was.

“Oh yes, I’m fine,” he quickly said with a grin that fell just as fast. “I just... feel awful.”

You sighed through your nose and crossed your arms, expecting the honeyed words, the seduction tactics, and then the demands.

“Look, I had a plan,” Astarion started. “A nice, simple plan – seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me.”

You raise an eyebrow as he chuckles nervously while fiddling with his hands. You weren’t quite used to seeing him so... tense. Astarion was usually the suave, calm and entrancing type that swept you off your feet with his charms and dramatic flair.

But right now he looked like some scorned child that got caught with his hand in the sweet jar.

“It was easy-”

You frowned.

“Instinctive,” he swiftly corrected. “Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do... was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you.”

Ripples of anxiety pulsed through you as you observed his subtle shifts in body language – how his eyes darted away from you, the way his lips twitched up into a forced smile. You dissected every word, convinced that this was his way of an impending farewell.

“...Which is where my nice, simple plan... fell apart.”

You blinked in surprise while he gestured at you as if he was at a loss for words.

“You... you’re incredible,” he breathed. “And... you deserve something real. I want us... to be something real.”

You struggled to find your voice, to address the storm brewing in your heart. You longed to confront the unknown, to seek the truth, to bridge the gap between your turbulent emotions and quiet expectation. More than anything, you were just confused. The presumption of sex loomed like a thunderhead in your mind. Did he... truly see you for more than that?

Nobody else had. Why should he be any different?

You had to find the strength to confront the tempest before it engulfed you for good.

“So, the... the nights we s-spent together,” you grimaced as you stuttered, hating how pathetic you sounded. “They didn’t mean anything to you?”

“Of course they did!” Astarion moved to lay a comforting hand on you, but his arm stayed motionless in the air for a moment before dropping to his side, almost in defeat. “That’s the problem, or... part of it.”

Your mouth soured with the taste of bile. “Were you even... attracted to me? Or was it all a lie?”

“Of course I was attracted to you, I mean, just look at you!”

Try as you might, you couldn’t help the heat that crept along your cheeks.

“You’re a vision. And you’re so much more than that.”

Your heart raced; your surprise palpable. You never imagined anyone seeing you as more than a lover, to be more than just a physical desire, but as someone to be cherished.

He bit his lip as he glanced down briefly, his fangs nearly piercing the skin. “Being... close to someone – any kind of intimacy – was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

Astarion’s voice was laced with venom at the mere mention of his old master, and you wanted nothing more than to comfort him, but you restrained yourself, allowing him to continue.

“Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels... tainted,” he said. “Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing.”

His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see how afraid he was. How scared that his confession will shatter the delicate equilibrium of your relationship, transforming it into something unfamiliar.

“I don’t know how else to be with someone,” he admitted. “No matter how much I’d like to.”

The stars seemed to align for you as he looked at you, through you, with his eyes glazed over. You wanted him to understand that love was not confined to lust and desire, but rather it was an intricate mosaic of trust, companionship and unwavering support.

You wanted to cradle his hopes and dreams, nurture his ambitions and rejoice in his happiness. You were the keeper of his secrets, and the safe haven of his vulnerabilities.

“Astarion,” you said. “I care about you. Deeply.”

“Really?” he muttered, his eyes crinkling into disbelief.

“Yes,” you felt a shiver down your spine, a chill that had nothing to do with the cooling temperature. “This might sound strange but... may I hold you?”

Astarion’s surprise was evident, but his eyes soften as he observes the mixture of anxiety and hope on your face.

“I... I would like that,” he quietly responds, his voice nearly a mere whisper.

With a tender yet unexpected smile, you wrap your arms around him, embracing him tightly.

Astarion’s body tenses up and for a moment, he just stands there, uncertainty etched across his face. It was as though the world had momentarily paused, leaving him in a state of sweet confusion. He hesitates, as though he’s unsure of how to respond. Then, with a reluctant but genuine warmth, he slowly brings his arms around you. His embrace is cautious at first, like a hesitant deer testing the waters of a lake.

As you hold each other, a gentle breeze rustles through the leaves of the surrounding trees and his grip gradually begins to tighten as though he’s afraid of letting you go, his head burying further into your shoulder as if to get lost within you.

It was in this simple act, in the unspoken acceptance of your affection, that Astarion realised the beauty of your ability to break down barriers, and it was in this moment that the evolution of your understanding came with a newfound freedom. No longer did either of you need to force yourself into moulds that didn’t fit.

Your relationship transformed into a profound connection built upon trust, and the conversations that lasted long into the night. Your love was no longer tangled in the constraints of physicality; it soared in the uncharted skies of emotional intimacy.

xxx

Links to my other Astarion works

Everything's Fine

Restless

Request - Astarion kills everyone in his path to get to you

Request - Astarion tries to save you from kidnappers

Request - Astarion helps you to see that you're beautiful

Request - Astarion gets kidnapped

Request - You and Astarion share an intimate moment (light smut)

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 tav #asexual #asexual!reader #my writing #fanfiction #request

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 6 months

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Karlach: What's it like being married to Astarion? Ace!Tav: He got wine drunk last night and tried to burn our marriage certificate. Ace!Tav: He said, "good luck returning me without the receipt!".

#astarion #karlach #tav #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #asexual!tav #bard!tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #incorrect quotes #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x evie

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etoilehistoire · 7 months

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(A time-travel fic: we know Astarion was locked away for a year once as a punishment. We know no hero or god ever came for him. When something throws him back into the past, to relive his worst fears, will anyone come this time? Featuring my "Tav", a female human paladin named Xia.)

He’d fed. Supped at the neck of the pretty little paladin, endured her quiet comments (mocking, he suspects, but he can’t be sure and oh, how that rankles) and too-serious eyes. Returned to his own bedroll. Watched the night sky for a bit; let himself appreciate the stars with a sincerity he keeps carefully locked away, even from himself, most of the time. Closed his eyes, allowed himself to slip into a trance.

And now…

Now there are hands gripping him, strong and cruel, dragging him across a stone floor. A horribly familiar floor.

There are words, snarled and harsh, but he can barely make them out. Stolen (gifted) blood pounds in his ears, the fear making it nearly impossible to think. He can’t focus on the words because he knows that voice, he knows that voice.

Besides. He has a sinking certainty that he’s heard these words before.

When he’s flung down into the too-small, too-tight darkness, when his feebly-struggling hands are slapped easily away, his panicked protests ignored, and the heavy stone slab seals him in, he knows.

He's back.

This is a dream. Oh, surely. Elves don’t dream, as a rule, unless they choose too, and he certainly can’t imagine choosing to. Still, trance is a time to access and revisit old memories, and when one has memories as… insistent… as Astarion's, sometimes they demand to be revisited whether one wills it or no. This wouldn’t be the first time, although never before had it felt quite so real. A side effect of human blood, perhaps.

His heart, even when awash in fresh blood, doesn’t beat, and yet he imagines he can feel it in his chest, a frightened, fluttery thing. He has no need to breathe, and yet his throat feels tight as he gasps at stale air and pushes uselessly against stone walls that crowd him from every side.

Calm. Calm. You are in control. It’s a dream. A dream, and you’ll just have to wait it out. Calmly. Otherwise you might do something like shout out in your trance and wake the others, and wouldn’t that just be excruciating?

He coaxes a grim smile out of himself with the last image, and feels himself relax. He’ll wait it out. Gods, he ought to be good at waiting by now, oughtn't he?

Fifteen minutes later, his right leg starts to fidget. No, he is not good at waiting.

An hour later, no matter how he tries to keep himself from doing so, he finds himself pushing again against the stone walls holding him in. Every time they fail to budge, he feels another twinge of panic.

Twenty-four hours later, the thought he has desperately been trying to avoid pushes its way forward: trance-memories don’t usually last this long.

Twenty-four hours after that, and he is screaming, weeping, banging uselessly on the lid as if that would do anything, as his mind tries and fails and tries again to process the truth he can no longer avoid: this is real.

He's back.

On the third day he can feel the vitality the paladin's blood had given him beginning to fade. His frenzied attacks against the solid stone grow weaker – almost imperceptibly at first, but that will change.

One week in, he can feel the beginning pangs of hunger – pangs he knows, via agonizingly clear memory, will only grow.

Three weeks in, he distracts himself by indulging in increasingly-elaborate fantasies of being rescued. By the silly wizard, perhaps, or the oh-so-noble “Blade of Frontiers.” Or that little cleric girl, the one who always pretended to hate him. Or, hells, why not Xia herself, if he’s being ridiculous? He pictures it for a moment, the paladin swooping down on a gleaming white horse just to dig up a vampire spawn like him; the humor in that makes him smile, affords him a half-breath of relief. (Until he remembers that it’s hopeless, that they’re not even alive yet, that even if they were none of them would care enough to even look for him, let alone charge to his rescue. After that it’s harder to come up with fantasies.)

A month and a half in, he breaks the first of many nails completely off, scrabbling and thrashing against the lid. He knows he should stop. That it won’t do any good and he’ll just keep hurting himself. He begins scrabbling again, even though his raw finger screams with every scrape. (When his hands finally fall, exhausted, he remembers with grim anger that around this stage was when he began praying to the silent gods. He swears to himself, he won’t stoop so low this time.)

Three months in, he starts praying anyway.

Five months in, he stops.

At six months in, his muscles eating themselves, his throat a blaze of pain, the hallucinations start. Again and again, stone scrapes on stone, light shines down, and they’re there, come to rescue him. His party. His… well, friends is a strong word. His compatriots, perhaps. Gale. Karlach, the flames nearly blinding him. Wyll, with his gentle smile. Once it's a elven couple, a man and a woman, with faces he can almost recognize but not quite, and when they vanish he weeps dry tears for hours. More often than not it’s Xia, which would be funny if he were still capable – emotionally or physically – of laughing. The sharp, pretty paladin with her sharp, pretty sword might tolerate him for his usefulness, might feed him her blood out of pragmatism and a perverse sense of duty, but no more than that. Certainly he’d failed to charm or seduce her – he’d tried, gods knew, tried every trick in his repertoire to bind her to him, make her want to keep him safe, but when she simply fixed him with cool dark eyes that seemed to see right through his manipulation, he feared he’d simply made her despise him instead. So why would his mind show him her? Even if she were here, now, which she isn’t, she owes him nothing; even her oath to protect the innocent wouldn’t apply to an undead thing like him. She isn’t coming. (The worst part, though, are the nights when he hallucinates Cazador coming for him – the mocking laugh, the half-rotted rat he’s thrown. The way he drinks it anyway, gagging at the taste but unable to stop. The contempt in Cazador's eyes as he watches. Well. No. That isn’t true. The worst part is the gratitude he feels, every time.)

At seven months he begins to wonder if the people he remembers ever existed at all. Perhaps all those memories were simply a fever dream. Perhaps he has been here the whole time.

By nine months he knows, with whatever small scrap of consciousness is left to him capable of knowing anything, that it’s over. He’s broken. He knows, or had once known, that somewhere in the world there are blue skies and bright stars, the laughter of companions and the smell of cookfires, but he no longer believes in it. Everything is darkness and stale air and pain. His throat hurts, burns like fire in its dryness. His innards hurt, dessicated and twisting in on themselves. His limbs are atrophied, stick-thin and monstrous. His skin is dry and stretched taut over his bones. His hands are bloody lumps, fingers broken and scraped raw from useless attempts to escape. This is all there is, and all there will ever be, until Cazador decides to let him out. Until Cazador comes for him. And when he does, Astarion knows with a sickening sense of shame, he will be grateful. He will be relieved. He will be so, so desperate to never return here, so very willing to do whatever is necessary to stay in his master's good graces. He will be Cazador's creature once again, through and through, and this time he doesn’t know if he’ll ever again have the strength to leave.

And still, after that, time continues to pass.

Until stone scrapes against stone.

At first he thinks it’s another hallucination, except that it’s too loud, too bright. The scraping stone is shocking to his ears after hearing nothing but his own hoarse screams for so long; the light hurts, blinding him with his brightness. This is it, then: Cazador has come for him. Hope flares, wild and pathetic and clinging.

A strong hand grips the front of his shirt and he is ungently lifted out of the stone tomb. Before his eyes can even adjust his face is being pressed against something soft and warm and smelling deliciously vital, and he lunges without thought, latching on with desperate, ferocious hunger. There’s a brief moment when it registers, dimly, that this is a much finer meal than the dead rat he was given last time, but then the blood hits his throat, strong and thick and life-giving, and all conscious thought washes away in the need to drink, drink, drink deeply.

When he comes back to himself some minutes later, the thirst inside him – not sated, never fully sated, but subsided to the level he’s used to – three realizations hit him in rapid order.

This blood is better – richer, stronger – than anything Cazador had ever given him. This is forbidden blood. Human blood.

Familiar human blood.

And he has drunk far too much of it.

He rocks, back, shocked, already bracing himself (with a surprisingly strong stab of regret) for the sight he fully expects – her body, falling lifeless and drained to the filthy floor.

But what he sees is Xia, yes, but fully alive and not – as he had assumed – being held by Cazador, a cruel trick to make him disobey the rules and murder his own friend all in one go. Instead she’s kneeling in front of him, hale and hearty and under her own power, watching him with solemn dark eyes.

“Whuh,” he says, intelligently.

She nods, as if that meant anything. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

Well, that explained exactly nothing. He clears his throat. “How is it that I didn’t kill you?” It’s not the most important question right now, not even in the top ten, and it’s probably not the most tactful way to phrase it, but of all the thoughts currently crowding his head it’s the one that makes it to his mouth first.

A rare grin, bright and fleeting, lights up her scarred face, and for just a moment his “pretty paladin" is actually lovely. “Ring of Lesser Restoration,” she explains, holding up her hand to show it off – a flat band of silver, with a flake of some pale blue gem in the center. “I had a feeling you’d be hungry when I found you, and I didn’t want to have to cut you off.”

Oh. Of course. She bought a ring, for him. Because she knew he’d be this, she knew he’d be a mindless, feral monster who wouldn’t be able to stop himself from draining her dry, and rather than that being a reason to leave him to his fate, she just. Bought an expensive magic item. For him. So she wouldn’t have to make him stop. Of course. Entirely sensible.

Eyes burning, he repeats her words. “When you… found me.”

She nods. “You weren’t the only one thrown back in time. When I realized what had happened, when I realized when I was, I knew you’d be here. With him. So I came.” She gives him a lopsided shrug. “But I told you I’m not from around here. I had to come from the other side of the world.”

He tries to rally himself. He should make a joke, something about how of course you traveled across the world for me, darling, have you seen these cheekbones? Or perhaps turn gratitude into flattery, fluttered eyelashes and pretty words and a promise to repay her kindness however she might like.

Instead what comes out, in a voice so pathetic and broken he wants to cringe away from it, is: “You came for me.”

Something softens in those fathomless dark eyes. A hand comes up, impossibly gentle, to touch his sunken cheek. “Yeah. I did.”

“You came for me.” He feels tears welling, blessed real tears made possible by her blood in his body, and the humiliation he feels at weeping in front of her is overshadowed by the stinging relief of finally being able to do so. “For me.”

He didn’t – he didn’t do anything for her. He never gave her anything. He’d utterly failed to secure her loyalty in any of the ways he knew how. He certainly can’t do anything for her now. There’s no reason she should be here, based on everything he’s ever known of people. It doesn’t make sense.

Yet here she is.

When the tears start flowing freely she reaches out and pulls him into her, arms warm and reassuring around him – not trapping him but holding him, supporting him. He tucks his face into her shoulder and lets it all come pouring out, all the fear and rage and pain and despair of the past year, the loneliness and need. It isn’t elegant; it’s full of hiccupping and snotting and undignified sounds somewhere between a sob and a scream. She holds him through it, strong arms protective around him, soft hands stroking his hair.

He clings to her even as the sobs subside, dimly aware that if she wanted to, she could own him in this moment as thoroughly as Cazador once did. She won’t. She wouldn’t even want to. Of this, he is certain.

The thought does make him pause, though. He draws back (and oh gods, his face must be a fright, for once he’s grateful that he can’t see his own reflection) and meets her gaze with wide eyes. “Cazador.”

“Dead,” she replies bluntly. A small smile graces her lips, the one he always assumed was mocking but which he now suspects is affectionately teasing. “I know, I should have left some for you, but time was of the essence.”

If he weren’t already on his knees he would fall to them now. He feels like a puppet with his strings cut. “You faced him alone.”

“I faced him for you.” She studies him with those serious eyes, and he wonders why he ever thought her intense gaze was cold and judgmental. “You have always deserved better than what that man did to you.”

She says it so plainly, so flatly, as if it’s not a direct refutation of everything he’s secretly feared and believed for 200 years: that he had, somehow, deserved it. For being weak, for being flawed, for being… him.

He swallows. He doesn’t believe her words, not really, but… he never expected to hear them.

It’s… nice.

She unfolds to her feet, extends a hand to raise him up. “So.” Her face has returned to its usual dispassionate expression, but her eyes dance. “What say we loot the old bastard's house for everything we can carry, then find out if anyone else ended up back in the past?”

His heart leaps in a way he doesn’t care to examine just yet at the implication that she sought him out first, before any of the others. Linking her arm in hers, he finally manages to summon a ghost of his old smile. “Darling, that sounds positively delightful. Lead the way.”

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #asexual astarion #(not explicitly stated but he is)#angst #angst with a happy ending #etoilewrites

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audsomeartist · 3 months

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Astarion consumes all my thoughts the way he also consume all my blood, so I decided I HAD to do the “Get to Know my OTP” from @valc0 with my little blorbos: Audrielle and Astarion. Please enjoy the sources of my brain rot.

#baulders gate 3 #oc #original character #digital illustration #digital art #astarion #asexual #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate tav #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #my otp #otp #dungeons and dragons #d and d #d&d #video games

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raven-sng · 7 months

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hi soldier c:

#this is what her camp interactions are like #im just a scared asexual #help me #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #karlach #bg3 tav #karlach x tav

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postnuclearwar · 8 months

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Lae'zel: "You wish you could fuck this body but you are a pathetic worm who is unworthy of my very touch"

Tav, an outlander druid who has never experienced sexual attraction before:

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #tav #lae'zel #ace #asexual #let me tell you #the camp scene was an experience to have while ace

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sharksssm · 6 months

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Not Broken At All

ace!tav, hurt/comfort, no smut! My Tav is in love with Shadowheart, Gale and Astarion, yes I can fix them all and together we can do anything okay. You could see it sometimes, when you walked through camp, hear it in their voices. Attraction. You weren’t opposed to a romantic relationship with one (or more) of your new acquaintances. No, friends? Companions? Regardless, you felt more and more sick every time you had to turn someone’s advances down, feeling the relationships you were building grow slightly tense in the aftermath.

Lae’zel was first, and Astarion had propositioned you in the goblin camp, that one stung to turn down, your attraction to him was strong. You almost considered just sucking it up so that he wouldn’t look at you the same way the other two did. Disappointed. You had some wine with Shadowheart, looked at the weave with Gale and shared a thought of you two holding hands, and you couldn’t help but scold yourself. Childish. Now you settled down for your rest, where a feeling of anticipation for the journey ahead should be, a feeling of discomfort sits in your stomach instead, rumbling through your mind the more you looked at your companions. Astarion caught your eye over the cover of his book, quirking an eyebrow at you. Your cheeks reddened as you cast your eyes to the ground. “I couldn’t help but notice your eyes on me, darling. I don’t suppose you’ve anything to say?” He wants you to change your mind, to want him like he wants you. “Oh, uh, no Astarion, sorry.” He sighs deeply. “Right, what’s the problem then? No offense darling but you’ve hardly taken the kicked puppy look off that pretty face all day, and surely my offer isn’t so bad you’ve been actually hurt by it.” You shook your head, hands outstretched in a placating manner, not that Astarion sounded particularly upset by any stretch. Although, he rarely did, upset or not. “No, not at all! It’s something personal, an issue for me alone to deal with.” You could feel eyes on you, assessing the situation. It was no secret, the flame you had for Astarion, let alone for some of your other companions, but neither was your rejection of his advances. Lae’zel in particular was not being subtle, eyes glued on the two of you while she sharpened her sword, Gale’s flitting between you and Astarion with barely-disguised interest. Your shoulders slumped. “Since all of you are so interested, how about we all talk about it, and get it open amongst the group.” The palpable lack of eyes on you suddenly made you almost more self-conscious, and Astarion looked almost… annoyed. “Oh yes, let's talk to the whole camp about you rejecting me.” It took maybe 5 minutes to gather everyone, sans Withers and Halsin, around the fire, the sunset light casting a pink-orange hue over the scene. You sighed, hands clasped in your lap, fiddling with the little ring you’d bought from the tiefling child, one to supposedly ‘ward off ants.’ Gale had laughed at you and you’d just blushed, remembering how it felt to search for any money you could as a kid. It gave you something to play with now, at least, so it was useful in the end. “Look, everyone… I'd like be honest with you all, as many of you have been with me.” A murmur of agreeance went around the group, their attention focused. “You’ve all – literally all of you – flirted with me at some point in this journey.” Suddenly, eyes on each other, narrowed and wide alike. Shock, suspicion, and jealousy ran abound, but still, nobody said a word, waiting for you. Why am I the leader here?

“And look, I truly take no issue with flirting. I enjoy it, most of the time. I just – “ Deep breath. “Ever since I was a child, there’s been something wrong with me. I feel love, so much of it, but when it comes to… well, after, there’s no feeling. I would well and truly fall in love with any of you but I have no feeling, or desire, to have sex.”

The eyes on you blinked, but still no response came, and your stomach dropped into the pit of your stomach. “I know that there’s something broken within me, and of course I don’t expect your understanding at all, in fact I’m sure some of you may feel that I’ve led you on, but truly-“ Your rambling was interrupted by hands on either side of your face. Shadowheart, of all people, knelt in front of you, her hands were glowing blue. “I can’t sense a thing wrong with you, which means it must be natural. It is okay, to not want or crave sex as the rest of us do. I am more than happy to just be in your presence and only do the things you want to do. That will always be enough.” A tear rolled down your face, as she kissed your nose, and moved to make room for Gale, who took your hand in his, gently squeezing. “You are not broken, nor are you the only one who feels this way. In fact, I know someone quite the same, back in Waterdeep. I can assure you that anyone who gets to know you will be more than charmed enough to overlook it, and if they cannot, then they don’t deserve you at all.”

You offered him a watery smile, squeezing his hand. “I don’t expect all of you to understand, but thank you, at least, for hearing me out. I might take a walk.” You let go of Gale’s hand, smiling at Shadowheart and walked past a silent Astarion and a pensive-looking Lae’zel. You truly didn’t want to think about what the rest of your companions thought about your feelings, you had enough thoughts of your own to contend with as you walked into the forested area behind your camp. Your whole life – childhood, your teenage years, you’d never met anyone like you, let alone anyone who accepted it so wholly. And here were two people who both accepted you and assured you that you were not alone.

You were so lost in thought you’re surprised you even heard a crunch of soil behind you. You spun, drawing your dagger, relaxing fully when you spotted Astarion. “Snapping twigs on purpose are you?” He smiled, walking towards you. “Well darling, I need to give you enough notice to get away from that dagger of yours in time.” You smiled weakly, sheathing it away and wrapping your arms around yourself. “Astarion, you don’t need to-“ “I need to apologise actually.” You looked up at him, red eyes meeting your own. “I asked you for sex, and when you said no I viewed it as a challenge, not a firm answer. That’s… not okay.” He appeared almost pained, and you reached out for his arm on instinct. “Astarion, you aren’t the first and you won’t be the last.” His eyes met yours, steeled and angry. “Your body and feelings are yours, nobody should ever try to take that choice, that truth, away from you.” You thought about what Astarion had told you previously, about Cazador and his treatment of Astarion. “Nobody should have taken it away from you either Astarion.” He took a step back, and a deep breath through his nose as his eyes closed, opening them again with a determined, but soft look in his eyes. “I know. Thank you. But let’s not distract from what I came here to tell you, which is that you are not broken, at all.” You were sure he could hear your heart beat faster at his words, perhaps even smell the blood flush your cheeks. He sighed, a heavy, deep sigh, of someone afraid of what might happen next.” “I also wanted to tell you that you were wrong.” Your heart felt like it stopped in your chest. “About?” “Do you remember when I was trying to honey you with words, how you laughed and said I was lying when I said ‘I love you?’ Well, I think I do. Or, well, I’m starting to.” Oh. Your mouth opened uselessly, and Astarion kept talking. “I had this nice, simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy – instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. But you wouldn’t sleep with me. I tried everything – a knee between your legs as I fed, slight touches, outright asking. And even though I didn’t get anywhere with my seduction – I failed the other part of my plan, the part where I didn’t fall for you. Your mouth was dry, and you licked your lips, eyes on the ground, watching an ant scurry away from you. Damned ring, maybe it was magic. “You… you’re incredible.” His hand found your cheek, your face angled back towards him. “You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

A tear fell from your eye. You had no right to be hurt, you knew this was how he was trained – a training he was trying his hardest to break. But you’d let yourself fall for him, let yourself let someone into this closely guarded place within you. “Were you ever attracted to me, really? Or was it all just to try and bed me.” He looked almost shocked, throwing his hands out towards your body. “Of course I was attracted to you! I mean, look at you for goodness sake! You’re a vision.” He took your hand in his then, looking into your eyes, as if willing you to believe him to take his honestly at face value and not question him. “And you’re so much more than that. I just… don’t know what to think. I don’t know what I want.” You enveloped his hands in yours, stepping closer as he spilled more of his truth to you. “Gods, I don’t even know what ‘real’ looks like. Not after two hundred years playing the rake. Being close to someone, any kind of intimacy, was something I performed, a lure to bring people back to him. The idea of sex – it feels tainted. It brings up all these feelings of disgust, and loathing. I just – I don’t know how else to be with someone.” He put his chin up, addressing his next words to the empty space behind your head. “No matter how much I’d like to.” You’d seen him do this before, of course. Addressing the space behind you, steeling himself for disappointment, for rejection. “Astarion…” you murmured, running your hand down his arm, reminding him you’re still here, present. “I care about you, deeply.” His eyes shot back to yours, wide and hopeful. “Really?” You mulled your options here over in your mind, before stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him. He said he didn’t know how else to be with someone, and this was the only way you could be with someone. It took him a moment, but eventually you felt his face in your shoulder, his arms returning your embrace. You stood like that for a few moments, simply enjoying each other’s arms, before you stepped back, his face looking at your longingly. You could hug him every day for the rest of your lives and it wouldn’t be enough. “You.. you’re full of surprises, aren’t you? Honestly I have no idea what we’re doing – or what comes next.” The smile on his face lit the darkness around you up, and you couldn’t help but smile back. “But this,” he took your hand in his, “this is nice.”

You basked in this moment as long as you could, playfully chatting and holding hands, even hugging him again, but eventually, your tired eyes betrayed you, and Astarion insisted you needed rest, tugging you back to camp. You trekked back, cautiously optimistic. For now, Astarion was yours, okay with your sexlessness, okay with your love for him being only emotional and physical in all the ways excluding sex. Maybe after you killed Cazador, Astarion would change his mind, and seek out a partner who could provide him with everything he could ever want, a true romance. But a fire you thought snuffed out long ago burnt dimly inside you, a hope. You could be enough, as you are, enough for him to love you like you loved him, to stay with you and be happy and content without sex. You closed your eyes, the ground much more flat and without gnarled roots to trip your feet, and your love’s hand for guidance. You let yourself believe.

BONUS: Wyll: "I didn't mention it earlier, surrounded by your loves and all, but you are whole, love for sex and other festivities or none at all. You're not broken, or wrong, you just have an appetite for a different kind of love. I admire your bravery, my friend." Lae'zel: While my people sate our appetites freely, there are many among us who may choose not to partake. They are still just as strong in battle, as are you. Karlach: Soldier, I couldn't care less about something like that! Hell, you could tell me you exclusively fuck bugbears and I'd still love you! Well, actually, maybe not that, but you get the idea! Ugh, I just want to hug you forever. *proceeds to try and do so*

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate gale #bg3 gale #bg3 shadowheart #shadowheart #baldurs gate shadowheart #tav x astarion #bg3 polyamoury #asexual tav #ace tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #writing practice

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