#bg3 drabble

[sorceresssundries]

The Hero of the Gate

It had been years since the defeat of the Elder Brain, and life had carried on as it was always bound to.

The heroes of the gate stood as stone sentinels in the main square, the once alabaster marble now etched by the claws of perching birds and eroded by the touches of grateful hands.

The statues had blended quietly into the backdrop of the city, but despite the dwindled offerings and attention, they were still a focus of the city's children who would clamber on them in unburdened play. Their laughter rang through the square in total, sweet oblivion as to how their silent playmates came to be there.

You had fallen into the habit of making sure there was always at least one bunch of fresh heliotrope or autumncrocus laying at the inscription of the largest, central statue:

Gale Dekarios, Who gave his life for Faerûn. The bravest of wizards, and greatest of men.

Tides and currents stop for no-one, and inevitably you had been swept along to new shores. You now had children of your own, who would spend sunny afternoons playing around the statue of your past love.

But still, there were nights like this, when the sky was clear and your grief was sharp. You would escape to sit on the bank of the river and with soft, crinkled eyes, gaze at the dancing glow of the purple aurora, which seemed to appear whenever you needed it most.

Here you would let the light wash over you, and lose yourself for a few quiet moments - to the most beautiful of fantasies.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 drabble #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #dont mind me i just fancied breaking my own heart

[barbiewritesstuff]

Glimpses: True Love's Embrace and True Love's Caress

Hear me wax lyrics about you, Astarion and rings for a bit.

This is part of a bigger collection of drabbles showing glimpses of how you and Astarion fall on love. (They will not be in order lol also title is in progress)

No proofreading, we die like men

Pic found on pinterest

He doesn't realise it at first but he has to admit he hasn't taken a single hit since the start of the battle, or rather, he has but it doesn't seem to hurt him much if at all. He doesn't question his good luck, he's due some after all the bad shit that's been thrown his way for nigh on two centuries, especially since the battle is going spectacularly wrong. They've had to revivify Karlach and Gale twice already and you guzzle potions like your life depends on it -- and it does.

Astarion watches you unscrew the cap on one right now, you're crouched behind a trunk in a shady alleyway where the only thing worse than the visibility is the smell. He watches you take a swig, a couple of drops of it trailing down from your chin to your throat and then down your armour, a flimsy thing made more for show than for protection, it's low cut and gives him a lovely view of your breasts, which, he suddenly thinks, he should stop staring at.

Lost in thoughts of such depravity that he'd never admit to them, he doesn't notice the enemy sneak up but he does feel him grab his shoulder and plunge a dagger straight between his ribs. Then, he feels him pull it out and ... nothing. Just a dull ache, and all consuming fury that makes short work of the other man, but nothing else. No death. No blood.

He starts to say how strange he finds what happened to be. There's luck and then there's this... but he doesn't get far in his sentence when he spots you, rasping for breath, blood bubbling out of a stabwound in your chest. There's no one nearby, and he knows no one came close to you, but here you are, on deaths door, trying to stretch your arm to reach the potion you were holding before he got attacked.

He hands it to you in a hurry, half already spilled on the floor, and just as he lifts it to your lips, he notices your wound sits right where his own should have been. Then, he notices the ring hugging your right ringfinger, snug and shiny against your pale digit.

He looks at his own hand, where the matching rings sits. Horror washes over him like a cold shower when he realises what has happened. This is no mistake either, not when he watched you loot it from their owners' dead bodies, read their diaries and heard Gale drone on about the encredibly powerful magic that had been cast upon the rings. You knew what would happen if you wore it. There was, of course, the possibility that you'd worn the wrong one. That he had been meant to wear yours all along, but Astarion doubted it.

No, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that you meant to take those hits. That you wanted to protect him.

"Hold on, dear," he whispers, tears threatening to spill as he watches your cheeks lose colours, and your skin turn cold, your breath getting more laboured by the second, "We'll get you back to camp.

#fanfic #original fic #astarion imagine #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 drabble

[comatosebunny09]

Nothing. Just Astarion scolding you for getting hurt, tenderly bandaging you up. You wear a love-stricken smile while he does it. And he appears focused, pretending that the way you look at him doesn’t make his body hum with pleasure.

“You’ll always take care of me, won’t you?�� you muse aloud, touching his hand, thumb easing over his knuckles.

Astarion scoffs, intentionally pulling tight on your dressing. You wince, never releasing that insufferable smile.

“Gods know you couldn’t be bothered to take care of yourself. Idiot.” He flicks your forehead, standing to wipe his palms off on his thighs. Releases a weighted sigh, turning his nose up as he offers you his hand. “Come on.”

He acts like he doesn’t care. But deep down, you know he’d give you his heart in a handbasket if he could.

You stare up at him admirably, the galaxy swirling in your eyes. His hand is corpse-cold in yours but no less comforting as he hauls you up.

You lose your footing, purposely ungraciously crashing into him. A series of giggles is pulled from your chest, a soft grunt drawn from his. Astarion rolls his eyes, yet he’s cautious as he winds his arms around your waist to steady you.

You stand on tippy-toe to kiss him, something quick and chaste on the apple of his cheek. He stiffens, casting you a sidelong glance.

“S’alright,” you say wistfully, encircling his neck with your arms. “I know you love me.”

Another scoff.

You feel his body give, and he angles himself to kiss you thoroughly and honey-slow on the lips. Palms wide and possessive at the small of your back, a gentle groan of approval poured into your mouth.

#astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion drabble #softstarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 drabble #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic

[cambion-companion]

A Marriage Contract

Eyo...I had an idea LOL what a world!

The scenario of Raphael x reader (gn) being forced into some sort of marriage agreement has been bugging me ALL day! Hopefully some of you lovely folks are as depraved as I am and enjoy this!

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”  

You were sitting opposite Raphael, the firelight flickering orange across his scarlet visage. You watched with bemused interest as, with a black quill, he scratched ink across a sheaf of yellowed parchment.

The cambion took little heed to your agitated words. His posture was relaxed, one long leg stretched out between your own, his tail tapping idly against your thigh where it rested.

“Raphael.”  You leaned forward, catching a glimpse of the words he now wrote in that elegant script of his. “…Hey, I did not agree to doing that every day with you.”

A peeved hiss escaped Raphael’s sharp teeth as he removed quill from paper and sat back, his yellow eyes finally moving to your tense face. “This arrangement is at the behest of one I cannot yet deny.” His long fingers drummed a pattern against the cherrywood table. “Don’t complain too much, pet.  I may begin to think you’re getting cold feet.”

“Not in this sweltering house.”  You quipped back.  Then you pointed again to the sentence he’d scrawled detailing what lurid acts he expected from you. “I will not be doing that.”

“Might I remind you, this is a contract of marriage.”  

“Believe me, I am well aware.”

“You would receive such pleasures in kind.”

This gave you pause, your brow arched in disbelief. “From you?”

Raphael chuckled dryly. “Yes, from me.  Master of the House, your doting husband.”

Your skin prickled. “There’d better be a clause in there for an annulment once all this is over.”

“It’s possible for such a loophole to be penned in.”  Raphael tilted his horned head diplomatically, though his eyes remained hard. “For you to take advantage of should the fires burn too hot.  However, you will always be mine.”

“How romantic.”  You deadpanned.

“I certainly try.”  Raphael rolled his broad shoulders and stretched his neck side to side.  “Now, shall I rescind these latest conditions or are you now more amenable?”

You hesitated, scooting your chair closer so you could better read the script without getting a crick in your neck. “Hmm…yes, alright. You can get rid of the ‘submits to my will in all infernal matters’ bit.”

With a smooth motion Raphael struck a line through the offending words. “Would ‘heeds my counsel in all the doings of my domain’ better suit your tender palate?”

“Rewording the same sentiment isn’t going to get passed me, love.”  You kissed his cheek, teasing.

Sharp claws pierced the flesh of your jaw as, quick as a viper, Raphael grabbed your face with one hand and held you very still.  His face turned and your noses brushed. You felt his warm breath and his hot skin.

The air between the two of you grew tense, riddled with the frustration at your situation and the desire you’d had for one another since meeting. The lust to dominate and own from him and your need to be wanted and no longer alone.

“This marriage contract is forever binding, little mouse. Much more so than those fragile slips of paper from your insipid mortal world. There is not a clause in your wildest imaginings that will free you from me once you sign yourself over.”

You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks, his strong hand still holding your head firmly. “We have little choice.”

Raphael’s grip tightened and he brought his lips against yours, just enough to leave you craving more. “What a quaint notion, to believe I have no power to deny or evade.”

He did not elaborate, but his message was clear.  Raphael wanted this. The thought didn’t leave you feeling warm and fuzzy.

There was an evident dynamic here that you didn’t have the capacity to fully understand.  It gave you a sense of dread yet sent a thrill through your body.

You gave Raphael a smile bordering on playful. “Your signature mysterious and vaguely threatening answers won’t exactly breed a relationship of trust.”

“You and I have very different concepts of what a marriage should look like.”  Raphael released your jaw and took both your hands, pulling you with one strong movement onto his lap.  His tail wrapped around your waist, securing you against him. “Speaking of ‘breeding’, I have an excellent idea.”

Your retort was silenced as a long tongue and sharp teeth claimed your mouth and drank down your following noises.

#raphael x reader #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael baldur's gate 3 #bg3 drabble

[darkenedurge]

Gale never thought he’d be here.

Never thought he’d have his love, have her. Beams of sunlight rippled through the parted, wispy curtains that adorned his open balcony – his balcony, in Waterdeep. His home. Their home.

The golden light was strewn across her face, illuminating her features – her pretty freckles, the curve of her jaw. Her head rest in his lap, lashes fluttering as she stirred, eyes flitting up to gaze at him. Gale loved when she looked at him, like he was the only man in the whole, entire world. She’d smile, not long after. She always did. Always.

Gale guides his fingers through her hair, untangling any stray knots in the process – earning an appreciative hum. “You always get sleepy at this time of day.” He comments, voice nothing but soft, gentle – saturated in love, and in adoration.

“Do I..?” She murmurs in reply, still weighted by sleep – whining as she stretched, repositioning herself, cheek nuzzling against his thigh.

His smile only widens, his cheeks darkening in equal measure, “Yes, my love, you do.”

#in my gale era lately ig #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate iii #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios x tav #gale of waterdeep x reader #bg3 drabble #drabble

[hivesfics]

im utterly obsessed with gale dekarios and bg3 so have this based on a post i saw earlier. 18+ below the cut, minors and ageless blogs DNI

she/her pronouns and afab terms used below

thinking about this post i saw where this person was eating their partner out and their partners thighs were too tight around their head and despite their attempts to get their partner to loosen up they wouldnt so they grabbed them by the thighs or hips and slammed them into the bed and their partner thought it was insanely hot so they never told them that they did it cause they couldnt breathe and thought about it being gale despite his measly 8 strength stat

cause even if that man is dying he’s gonna go out eating his partners cunt.

so tav sits upon his face, a bit nervous but excited. after all, she has to see what this “practiced tongue” business is all about and he insisted this was the best way.

so she hovers above his face, legs spread on either side of him. he tuts and pulls her flush down against his face, his nose hitting her clit while his tongue licks up the seam of her cunt.

his hands come in between her thighs, spreading her open with his thumbs so he can fuck his tongue into her more easily. he’s near ravenous as he devours her, slurping, licking, sucking, even placing a soft teasing nip against her clit.

it causes her thighs to squeeze tight around the sides of his head, cutting off any air flow that he can move to get. he’s stuck under her warm, wet cunt, unable to breathe.

he tries lifting her hips, spreading her thighs, whatever he can but its no use. so with the adrenaline from his lack of oxygen, he uses his strength to hold her hips and drive her backwards onto the mattress. slamming her body down against the bed, all while staying somewhat connected to her cunt.

the shock of it has her thighs loosening around his head. a shaky gasp mixed with a moan coming from her after.

he pants heavily against her wet centre, face soaked with the slick from her. he looks up at her through his eyelashes, afraid he’s startled her.

but she grabs his hair and pushes his face back flush against her cunt. to which he moans and removes her hand from his hair. he grabs her thighs and presses them up to her stomach, keeping them spread to ensure she doesn’t suffocate him with them again before he happily begins licking at her again.

he’s enthusiastic with it despite the near death experience, or at least near passing out. it didnt seem to deter her arousal with the way she drips down her ass and to the sheet beneath.

when she finishes he doesnt have the heart to tell her she nearly killed him. especially when she raves to him how hot it was that he tossed her around like it was nothing.

he doesnt have the heart to tell her it will most likely never happen again unless he had a potion of hill giant strength. he’s simply a weak man who was driven by adrenaline. it still sends pride through him that she found it so attractive though.

#fanfic #bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios x reader #bg3 gale #gale x tav #gale x reader #bg3 drabble #smut drabble

[underdark-dreams]

I'm finishing up a Rolan proposal fic for a very patient anon & ended up with this little scene between Rolan and Dammon that I don't think I'll use. Thought I'd post it here as a drabble! 💗

Rings

Rolan commissions a very particular piece for his beloved from the infernal blacksmith. [541 words]

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

“Are you sure it’s the right size?”

Rolan turned the smooth metal over in his hand, trying to compare it against his own fingers for reference. The material gleamed luminous and silver-blue even under the shade of Dammon’s open workshop.

“It’ll fit,” Dammon told him with surety. He wiped a hand on his apron and watched with no little pride as Rolan examined his past weeks’ handiwork. “I forged a few pairs of gauntlets for them back in the day. I’d like to think I know a thing or two about Tav’s hands. Professionally,” he hastened to add, perhaps noting the way Rolan’s brow twitched.

“Maybe so, but—”

“I know, I know. Tav deserves perfection.” Dammon gave his placid smile.

“Yes.” A bit chagrined by the obvious strength of his feelings, Rolan made no other response. As he turned the band over again, his eyes caught very fine lettering engraved around the inner surface. He peered closer—the marks were Infernal.

“Ah.” Dammon shifted nervously on his feet. “I hope you don’t mind the addition. It just—came to me.”

“‘Strength in Unity’,” Rolan translated under his breath. He glanced up at Dammon. “The watchwords of Elturel?”

Dammon rubbed the back of his neck in a characteristic gesture, but a shadow passed over his face. “You know, in terms of cities and their mottos…that one always rang a bit hollow to my ear. After everything.” He exchanged a long glance with Rolan. “If anyone deserves to reclaim the words, I thought it ought to be the two of you.”

Rolan stared back down at the ring on his palm. In a rare moment, he found himself rather lost for words. Then he slipped it carefully into the pouch at his belt and began counting out gold pieces.

The smith raised a hand, but Rolan cut him off before he could start. “Dammon, whatever the hells you’re about to say, keep it to yourself. This is fine work, and I’ll be damned if you don’t take the other half of the fee.”

“Couldn’t you consider it a wedding gift? For the two people responsible for getting me to Baldur’s Gate in one piece. Or even,” Dammon proposed hastily, “a reward for letting me work with such rare material.”

“Then keep what’s left over,” Rolan told him. He tucked his coin away as the idea for a compromise sprang to mind. “Make something incredible from it.”

“That—” Dammon’s eyes grew wide for a moment. “That’s quite generous. Do I even want to know how you found such a pure chunk of mithril?”

“We have friends in the Underdark,” Rolan answered tersely. “I may have…funded a small expedition.”

Dammon only gave a low whistle. If anyone could grasp the cost of such an undertaking, it was a blacksmith. Then he extended a calloused hand, and Rolan clasped it in a wordless agreement.

Finding the matter resolved, Rolan turned toward the front gate of the forge. The gleaming ring stored at his belt had introduced a very distracting flurry of butterflies into his stomach.

“Hold on there—” Dammon stooped to fetch something from underneath his work bench. As he straightened, a small hide bag sailed through the air into Rolan’s surprised grasp.

“You’ll be needing the other one.”

#bg3 drabble #rolan bg3 #dammon bg3 #rolan x tav #underdark-dreams #pls i love both these men #bg3 rolan #bg3 dammon

[aeshttp]

assistant apprentice

gn! reader x gale

where gale has a midlife crisis over being attracted to his apprentice.

read under cut!!

There was something about you, hunched over a table consumed by scrolls and tomes, a lone candlewick dripping concerningly close to one of the texts and eyebrows furrowed in paramount concentration as your teeth gently bit down on plush, pink lips, that Gale found endearing, and alarmingly attractive.

Damn it, he knew it was wrong- but it quite literally hurt his heart to turn away from the tranquil scene before him. It wasn't as if you weren't a consenting adult, but what student would enjoy their teacher scrutinizing them, eyes hazed over with lust and awe?

As you scratched your scalp with the tip of the quill, mouth curled in something akin to frustration and disdain, an expletive on the tip of your tongue, Gale had finally gained adequate strength to tear his eyes away from you- suddenly awfully interested at the glass lamp he had procured at a market many moons ago.

Crystal clear in his memory, Gale was able to embarrassingly recall every minute detail surrounding the first day in which he met you, much to his chagrin.

He had been wondering around a vast library for a while, engrossed and captivated by the towering shelves of books, each filled with knowledge waiting to be ingested, as a niggling feeling at the back of his mind made him aware that he was most likely being followed.

By who or what, he had no idea- but Gale would be damned if he was to be caught off guard and attacked, although wasn't exactly sure on what type of person would be ambushed in a library of all places- lest the attract the vitriol of the librarian.

Sharply turning a corner, Gale waited by the edge of one of the bookshelves, waiting for the assailant to round the corner and instead get spooked by Gale.

When you appeared from round the corner, eyes bulging with awe and reverence, fingers moving nonsensically by your side- as if barely able to reign in excitement and fight the urge to pounce on him- Gale was entirely nonplussed, and for a moment- flattered.

The feeling only expanded in his chest as you spat out words in haste, stumbling over compliments and praises- inching closer every second, practically buzzing from excitement.

Gale would tell anyone about his work if they gave the slight inclination that they were interested (which they hardly ever were), but to hear about his studies from a secondary source birthed a feeling inside of him he didn't think possible, so overjoyed by the fact he'd gone off about needing an assistant- a complete lie- but was utterly overjoyed when you had accepted without a minute to process.

And nearly two months later, here you were, living in his humble abode as his 'apprentice', desperately trying to put a damper onto his feelings. Of course, Gale never regretted making you his apprentice, more displaced by the fact he had grown to develop feelings far from platonic- simply because you were a kindred soul to his.

It was a shame, that you had hailed him a genius of the arcane, a master of magic and yet, he was far too cowardly to admit his feelings to you, content with him being your teacher and you his apprentice.

Perhaps one day, he'd find the bravery to speak from his heart- but as you rushed over to him, begging for him to demonstrate a spell in order to understand the theory behind it, he simply smiled and donned the mask of an adept sorcerer.

#gale x reader #bg3 gale #professor dekarios #gale x gn reader #bg3 drabble #bg3 fic #bg3 imagine #gale x tav

[blackjackkent]

Owlbear Vignettes

At first, Buddy sticks very close to Hector in camp. Hector was the one who fed him first. Hector is kind, with a soft voice. Hector gives him scritches between the ears and murmurs blessings Buddy doesn't understand. Hector is not Mother, but Hector is safe.

The others take some getting used to.

-----

Karlach is not expecting it, the first night Buddy tries to sleep in the tent with them. She's half-asleep and at first only dimly aware of claws jabbing through her clothes, which meld unpleasantly with a dream of stinging sparks in the Hells. Her eyes flicker open - and then she jumps as she comes face to face with an owlbear beak. Buddy has nestled himself between her and Hector, curled into a floofed-up ball.

"Aw, hells. Hec--" she says sleepily.

"Mmph?" Hector answers. "Wha-- ack!" There's a sudden sputtering noise as he rolls over into a faceful of feathers.

"That."

She hears Hector laugh softly in the darkness. "Buddy, you can't sleep there." He nudges at the cub's flank; Buddy makes a soft noise of objection. "Come on, Bud."

Buddy gives a chirping whine but allows himself to be displaced so Hector can snuggle in against Karlach again. The cub considers the situation for a moment, then flops deliberately on Hector's other side, staring at Karlach the whole time as if daring her to say anything about it.

"I think I have competition," she tells Hector with a grin.

"You're way prettier than he is, don't worry," Hector mumbles into her shoulder.

-----

Gale makes a picture of a woman, but she has no smell. Buddy doesn't like that. It seems wrong.

Wyll emerges from his tent to the sound of Waterdhavian-accented oration at full volume.

"That is the goddess of magic, Buddy. That is Mystra herself!" Gale is lecturing the little beast, poking a finger into Buddy's face. "You cannot simply swipe a claw through her as if she were a mouse you'd caught unawares. That is a disrespect of the highest order and I would have thought you smart enough to know better."

Buddy listens attentively, his head cocked over to one side, occasionally chirping whenever Gale pauses for breath.

"I understand that you are an owlbear and therefore not privy to the mysteries of the Weave," the mage goes on. "But that does not exempt you from a certain level of basic decency towards the divine. I will thank you to remember this in future and improve your decorum."

Wyll grins, folding his arms as he watches this little display unfold. "Do you want to try it again with an animal speaking potion?"

Gale sighs. "No, no, never mind. He's just a beast after all, he can't really be expected to understand."

"I don't know," Wyll says mildly. "Perhaps he has the right of it. A protective instinct, if you will, given the target does want you to blow yourself up. I think he's not the only one in camp who would give her a swipe if they could."

"I'll thank you to keep your disrespect to yourself as well," Gale says dryly. His fingers flick through the air, conjuring a new, glowing image of his goddess.

Buddy swats a paw through her again at once.

-----

The githyanki is sharp like Mother's claws. She snaps when Buddy comes close, sniffs disdainfully when he scarfs down some of the camp supplies. He steers clear and watches her from a distance.

He understands how this works. She is one of the alphas. She must be brought a gift before she will accept him in the flock.

One night, Hector watches with bemusement as the cub, his whole expression screwed up with deep owlbear concentration, drags a large dead rabbit through the camp.

Catching Hector's gaze, he drops the rabbit and chirps softly, wandering in a slow circle around his prize. His feathers fluff up in a deliberate attempt to make himself look bigger, as if to steel himself for a great challenge. Then he grabs the rabbit again by the head, and in a single smooth motion, drags it into the tent where Lae'zel is currently sleeping.

There is a brief moment of silence, followed by a yell that echoes through the whole camp. Buddy, still poofed out in all directions, comes sailing through the tent flap, tumbling end over end and hitting the ground some distance away. The dead rabbit follows closely thereafter.

The next morning, Lae'zel acts as if nothing happens, but Hector does note with some surprise that she gives Buddy an absent pat on the head every time she walks past him. Later, she offers him a torn off scrap of the hunk of jerky she grabs for her evening meal.

"You're not holding his midnight visit against him, then?" Hector asks her.

"On the contrary," she says gravely. "The creature offered tribute to me as its jhe'stil, and showed bravery in doing so. It has earned the respect due a beast of combat."

"But you threw him out of the tent!"

She looks at him unblinkingly. "Yes."

Hector considers trying to understand this, and then decides not to bother.

-----

Shadowheart rarely comes close at first to either Buddy or Scratch. She is wary of them as beasts of the forest. Scratch says she is afraid of wolves. Buddy is NOT a wolf - but he is almost as big as one, so he thinks maybe it makes sense.

She often looks at him like she would like to pet him, though. A few times, she does drift near, and lays her hand gently between his ears on the soft feathers at the nape of his neck. And he sees a little smile tug at her lips - but then there is a flash of magic around her hand, and she winces or cries out in pain and draws away.

Many weeks on, deep in the Shadowlands, there is a great commotion one night - an explosion of light and crashing and roaring in the distance. Buddy watches with great interest, and some concern, as Hector returns to the camp with Karlach and Wyll, all of them covered in blood and slime. Shadowheart, equally battered, follows behind them at a distance, her eyes hollow and her face even paler than usual.

Buddy finds her in her tent later, staring at the wall in the darkness. He sits in the tent flap and chirps questioningly.

"No. Go away," she mutters. "I can't--"

She falls silent. He chirps again, scoots a little closer to her.

"It hurt so much..." she whispers. "All this time, all that pain... for a lie..."

She gives a sudden hoarse, humorless laugh. "There was never any wolf. D'you know that? There was never any wolf at all."

He gives a soft, whickering sort of noise and nudges his head cautiously against her hand. There is no flash of magic, no cry of pain. He does it again. Her fingers fist suddenly into his feathers, pulling him towards her.

He squawks, alarmed, then relaxes as she presses her face into the soft down of his back and sobs.

-----

Late one night, Astarion tracks a deer through the woods. They're difficulty prey, jumpy and skittish, but his steps are light, an almost inaudible tread. And they have quite a lot of blood in them. The hunger gnaws at his stomach and his red eyes gleam in the moonlight.

Just a little closer...

His boot knocks against an ill-placed stone, barely a rustle of sound but enough. The deer lifts its head and gives a keening cry, and bolts.

"Oh-- damn it," he mutters, straightening out of his crouched position. His fingers flex with undirected frustration and he leans heavily against a nearby tree. "Damn, damn, damn." What a feast that would have been... the local squirrel population has been decent, but deer is something else entirely. One of his favorites, second only to the kobolds and, of course, the one pure draught he got from Hector's throat...

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of an animal squealing in abject pain, a ripping, tearing noise of wet meat - and then a soft chirp. He looks down, puzzled.

Buddy is sitting looking up at him with bright, wide eyes. His beak is coated in blood, and he bounces in an excited circle around Astarion's feet before guiding him through the foliage nearby. The deer sits sprawled on the mossy ground, its head bent at an odd angle.

"Huh." Astarion raises his eyebrows, examining the gory tableau. His stomach growls audibly at the glinting shine of wet blood at the deer's throat. "Not badly done. I didn't think I was in the market for a hunting partner, but perhaps we should work together more often."

Buddy wiggles all over with excitement and butts his head against Astarion's leg.

"Yes, yes, you're very cute. Now stay out of the way and let me drain this thing before you start looking tasty as well."

-------

"No!" Minsc bellows, looking down at the cub imperiously. "You will stand aside, beast; though your talons be very sharp and your beak to match, Minsc will bear each scratch before you shall lay one claw upon Boo!"

Buddy cowers back, his eyes very wide and all his feathers standing up, as the berserker towers over him. Boo sits atop Minsc's head and squeaks angrily down at the cub from his perch.

"Minsc!" Jaheira steps in between them, raising one hand before Minsc can speak again. "Calm yourself. I heard you all the way across the camp. What is the matter?"

"Minsc woke to find the little feather-beast eyeing Boo with the hungriest of eyes," Minsc says fiercely. "Does he think Boo a little snack to be feasted upon?!"

"No doubt," Jaheira says calmly, struggling not to smile; Minsc is obviously incensed, and yet there is something comical in seeing him stare down the little round ball of feathers with such ferocity. "For he is a beast of nature; why should he know otherwise?"

"Well, he shall not have him!"

"Peace." Jaheira crouches next to the owlbear, murmurs a spell under her breath; green light flares around her body. "Do you hear me, cub?" she murmurs.

Buddy goes very still; his feathers flatten out and he stares at her with wide eyes. "You... speak?" he whispers.

"With all the wisdom that nature gave me." She smiles, reaches out to scratch him under the chin. "You must leave the hamster alone. For he is Minsc's to protect, as you are Hector's."

The cub chirrups skeptically. "Rat. Tasty," he points out.

"There is no shortage of rats in the city," Jaheira says dryly. "We shall find you other meat. But you must promise to leave Boo in safety."

Buddy makes a soft grumbling noise. "All right. Promise," he mumbles.

Jaheira looks up at Minsc, her eyes glinting with amusement. "The bargain is made," she says soberly.

"Ah." Minsc brightens up at once and grins. "Good. Minsc did not want to kick such a little, cute butt, if there was any helping it."

Buddy trots along at Jaheira's side as she walks away; his sharp little eyes peer up at her excitedly. "You speak. New Mother?" he asks hopefully.

"Gods. No," Jaheira sputters. "I am no more your mother than I am Minsc's Wychlaran; where does everyone get these ideas?"

Buddy's ears turn down. "Just hoped."

She pauses, then smiles faintly. "I may not be your mother, cub, but I think you have a whole camp full of family. As creatures of the wilderness go, you have it made."

-----

Withers examines the cub closely as it creeps around the edge of the camp, watching him from the shadows. "I offer no threat to thee, little beast," the skeleton intones gravely. "Thou hast no need of secrecy."

Buddy chirps. Emerging from the shadows, he sits at Withers' feet, looking up at him.

Withers' expression does not shift. "Indeed," he murmurs. "A creature without mooring. Untethered and yet bound. A matter of luck... or of fate."

Buddy tips his head slowly to one side.

"Thou art a pillar, upon which is built the lever which shall move the world." The faintest hint of a smile twists the skeleton's lips. "And yet thou knowest it not. This is as it should be. By such truths does all remain in balance."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #owlbear cub #karlach #wyll ravengard #gale of waterdeep #lae'zel #shadowheart #astarion #bg3 drabble #bg3 fic #minsc #jaheira #withers #idk how good this is but i had a lot of fun writing it XD #drabble

[reverieblondie]

Imagine surprising Haarlep by flipping your positions in bed as things are getting steamy. You whisper in their ear "Let me do the work this time." then kiss and nibble your way over to the incubus' other ear, "Let me pleasure you."

What do you think would happen next? How do you think Haarlep would feel/respond?

So, I had someone else ask me about a very familiar scenario of Haarlep and an afab Tav wrestling and finally pinning them down to dom them, so I am going to combine that one with this one. Enjoy!

18+ under the cut!

Haarlep sometimes forgets how strong you are, especially when they are on top of you, looking down at your prone form, ready to be devoured. So imagine Haarlep’s surprise when you, seemingly so innocent, so sweet, suddenly turn the tables on them. Grabbing onto their wrist, you effortlessly flip the positions. Haarlep looks up at their once docile pet, now looking down at them with newfound hunger. Haarlep eyes you intrigued by your next move. Mortals…such funny creatures. 

Placing their clawed fingers on your soft hips, they attempt to rock their cock into you and fuck you with reckless abandon, but you push Haarleps hips down, forcing them still. Haarlep looks at you, eyes narrowed and lips curling into a smirk. “Now what is-” a soft ‘shh’ leaves your lips as you lean to their ear. “Let me do the work this time.” Haarlep is about to make a sarcastic remark, but then your small tongue licks up to the sharp tip of their ear. Open-mouthed heated kisses go down their neck, and Haarlep can’t help but hum in approval. Then, a sharp nip makes their hands on your hips tighten. Cheeky girl… Your lips continue their pursuit until your sweet voice is again in their ear. Haarlep closes their eyes, taking in the feeling of your fingertips tracing over their lips. “Let me pleasure you…” your words are a sinful promise. Reopening your eyes, Haarlep looks at you, seeing all over you, “You can try, pet.” 

Haarlep loves admiring your flushed body on top of them; a shiver that only you seem to bring to them waves through their body: excitement. However, with having to be Rapheals for so long, they don’t get their hopes up. Plus, you are mortal; you will probably tire out making them finish the job. But as you’re positioning yourself, there’s something in your eyes. Then, as you grind against his rigid base, coating your sticky sweet essence all over their thick length. They start to catch on. That smile does not seem so sweet anymore, and right as they are about to say something about your teasing, you dip down and lick a quick stripe on their nipple, then give a quick bite. The whimper was involuntary as you rose back up, not missing a beat in your grinding. Harrlep can only smirk at the discovery, “You naughty girl, you’ve done this before…”

You smile; Haarlep loves it when you’re mischievous…

Sliding Haarlep in nice and slow, sinking them so deep they feel their dripping tip licking against your cervix. The stretch is maddening as it forces your walls to take their every bulging ridge. The moans of their name, as you start to rut them deeper into your womb, will cause Haarlep to grit their teeth, one part of them wanting to take back control, but the other part of them is enjoying the show. The sounds of your moans, the feeling of your splaying hands against their chest, slowly rising back up to the tip, hovering above them, scratching your nails down Haarleps chest, teasing them all the more as you wait to push them back in. All this unfamiliar teasing makes Haarlep dig their nails into you more. Right as they are about to comment in protest about not being buried deep in your tight sex, right as your walls are no longer aching from the stretch, you slide back down quickly, forcing the cock in so deep, arching and grinding to get them so deep it makes Haarlep head spin (not an easy thing to do). Riding Haarleps cock hard as you rub your sweaty hands all over their body, as you moan out breathless cock drunk praise for them. 

Haarlep will see your sweaty form and try to grab your ass to assist you, squeezing it to lift and lower you, but you won’t let them. Haarlep is only meant to be enjoying not working. Grabbing their hands softly, bringing them to your lips as you kiss against their palms and knuckles, moaning with every push and keeping your eyes on Haarlep glowing ones. This soft moment is so different…Haarleps cock throbs, and you can’t help but throw your head back, trying so hard to get them off before yourself. Then, as you feel that ecstasy threatening to wash over you, you place their hands against your stomach and let Haarlep feel how deep they are. How much you’re taking, doing just for them. The throbbing continues as your walls eagerly grip on every inch. 

Inevitably you will cum undone on Haarlep despite all your trying. But as your cunt quivers against them and their lidded eyes drink in your orgasm, you bring your hands to cup Haarleps cheek as you keep your mind-numbing pace. “Haarlep, I want to be filled with your pleasure…Would you please honor me?”. Haarleps eyes widen. Not only do you want him to cum, but you’re asking for it so sweetly. No demands…No forcing…Not forgetting that they feel things and want things…

It’s a moment of rare vulnerability as Haarlep looks up at you, moaning your name as they spill their hot seed deep within your womb in thick spurts. The slight bit of hope for it to take…

Crashing down to their broad chest, you press yourself so close to them, a wave of exhaustion starting to come over you now. Haarlep will tilt your head to look into your cloudy eyes. Haarleps eyes are lidded, and sweat decorates their skin; they two equally look spent. Then their sinful voice speaks to cut through your haze, “After some rest… we’re doing that again…” 

Fiends…Such greedy creatures…

#haarlep x tav #haarlep x reader #bg3 #bg3 haarlep #bg3 headcanons #bg3 drabble #haarlep #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 haarlep #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate fic #baldur's gate 3 smut

[cambion-companion]

Infernal Cuddles

OKAY so I was cuddling with my cat last night and while he was dreaming his tail was waving around in his dream which got me thinking! haha you know exactly where I am going with this. So please indulge me in this drabble cause it is rotting my brain.

Raphael x reader (gn)

This wasn't your first visit to Raphael's home, nor even close to the first time you'd warmed his bed.

However, he had never before allowed you to fall asleep next to him.

At first you'd thought it a mistake. A momentary lapse soon to be corrected when he sent you careening back through some portal to the material plane.

Your muscles had tensed as his hand met your waist and pulled you a bit forcefully against him, his body bending around yours and his whispered words in your ear, "Don't move, little mouse. And don't stray. Those who skitter and creep these halls at night are not kind to flesh so soft as yours."

His nails dug briefly into your bare hip, his wing draping down over your flushed body like an eldritch blanket.

You were caught between fear and comfort. Anticipation mixing with the utter exhaustion only derived from being a devil's favorite plaything. Despite the trepidation, you slowly began to relax. Your weight easing back against Raphael, his hand still hot upon the dip of your waist.

Healing sleep enveloped you, your dreams betraying nothing of the hellscape you rested in, nestled in the arms of a quite literal cambion. In your subconscious you could feel the rumble of Raphael's chest as he snored, and you woke only slightly when he adjusted his position to face away from you.

Your limbs tangled in the soft sheets as you stretched, sliding to find a more comfortable place under the black silk. Your eyelashes fluttered, images of what the morning could possibly bring flitting out of thought and worry as you snuggled back down to sleep.

You felt a sharp blow to your backside. A squeak of pain left you, your eyes snapping back open with sudden alertness.

"Ouch!" You complained, massaging where you'd been struck and rolling onto your back. "Hey!"

Raphael had landed another blow, this time across the top of your thigh. You sat up, blearily squinting in his direction.

The room was dim, but you could still make out Raphael's still sleeping form with his back to you, the tip of his long tail twitching before arcing up and landing with a soft thud against the bedspread.

The long devil's tail rose once more but this time you caught it in your hand before it could smack you again. Raphael made a soft noise, the most vulnerable sound you'd heard from him. He seemed to wake, rolling over and sitting up, his tail sliding through your palm until it dropped away.

"You were dreaming." You tried to explain, a little unnerved by his silent glowing stare. "Your tail was moving."

Raphael didn't speak for a moment, taking his time to languidly stretch his limbs and wings, almost catching you in the face as he did so.

You hesitated. Then you scooted over a couple inches toward him, inexplicably seeking the warmth of his touch.

"The hazards of sleeping with a devil." Raphael's voice was husky, it sent a pleasant shiver up your spine.

He reclined on his back and extended his arm to you, his lips twitching slightly when you eagerly cozied up by his side. "Such a good little thing. Eager as a pup."

You didn't argue, not wanting to spoil the moment you'd likely never get to relive.

Raphael didn't apologize. You got the feeling he found the whole situation rather amusing. In the days and months that followed, whenever the two of you were sharing a moment of passion, his tail would often smack against your bare skin. Your answering gasp and flinch would be followed by the familiar low chuckle of your infernal lover.

#raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #raphael baldur's gate 3 #bg3 drabble #no haarlep sorry #he was sent to the dog house for this one #the demon hut

[voidcat]

– the moon will sing

characters: astarion, human bard mc (gn pronouns used)

notes & genre: slight angst, implied future mcd & hinted immortal/mortal relationship. the mc is originally my dnd character but there is no specific description of name, appearance or past (save for the family crest, implied nobility) so you can pretend this is x tav or x reader. lowkey inspired by a the crane wives song.

it takes a moment to look back, like a step taken a tad too late; not enough to create a great distance but one enough to make one stumble on the ground.

in the small yet grand distance, astarion watches as cheers and joy fill the air once more, mimicking those nights before, in taverns, under the stars, all spent celebrating, rejoicing with glory and gratitude; all heroic feats and gestures he does not care to– nor wish to understand.

another adventure comes to an end, one step closer to the end, the destination, the next step of the rest of their lives until they find themselves at a crossroads.

one part of astarion cannot wait for that day to come, the one that wishes to escape, to avoid the burning rays of sunlight that only intensify each passing minute, each day he finds himself stuck deeper than he already has, struggling more and more to break those ties which are yet to be formed and binding completely.

better to rip the sticky, bloody bandages off than to take it easy– just suck up the pain that comes with a loss of recent constants in his life, and grow into his newly lonely routine of not depending on anyone.

all good logic, all bright ideas, astarion finds himself giving the little-him in his mind a pat on the back; only for the idea to come to halt, the unspoken words stuck in his throat as you turn in your spot, meters, meters away from him, spot his distant figure with those eyes and send a warm smile his way.

maybe this is another plan that has already failed before he could realize, astarion begins to wonder, oh he is so, so fucked– especially when all it takes now is a smile, a genuine one that reaches your eyes and shines warm like the sun, for him to be rendered speechless and immobile.

your smile falters for a second when you don't receive the usual astarion treatment, be it a wink, a charming smile or an all-knowing smirk decorating his smug face with a raised eyebrow that seems to say "cannot keep your eyes off me, can you now darling?"

one step taken a tad too late but astarion is never one to stumble over his feet, so with a roll of eyes and smirk returning to his lips, he tilts his head to the side in a questioning manner– to which, you reply by raising the bottle you've been holding, as if to say "hey, this time the wine is not that bad actually."

seeing him nod, and with too many people surrounding and asking for your attention, you find yourself having to divert your eyes away from him, as the people seem to chant for something from you, most likely another round of recounting your latest heroic victory, astarion thinks.

soon the sound of strings vibrating fills the air with faint first few notes of music.

of course, a celebration is not complete until there is music, no matter what time of the day it is or how tired everyone is. drunkards, raspy voices and dry throats all join together, offering back vocals to the lucky bard of the night– or the day; with how busy the hours have been passing, astarion realizes he is at a loss of time.

another glance stolen at you, and the light surrounding you like a halo certainly does not help his case.

golden, like the branches of your family crest, it is no wonder the moon shines bright above everyone, reflecting off the light you provide; brightening the world for all to see, to walk, breathe, make it all easier to live.

he spots shadowheart by some trees, enjoying her drink alone, gale and wyll speaking with people, probably giving them some answers they so desperately needed. his eyes roam the grounds and find each member of their little group, all too endorsed in whatever it is they are doing; yet one thing in common– a sense of relief, rejoice, change; the traces of especially the latter is out in the open for careful eyes, or just eyes who have seen and known them long enough.

he wonders for a moment if the same can be said for him, but he knows better, that it has already happened.

the sound of music gets louder and soon suppresses the irregular chatter spread around.

the tune sounding too familiar, astarion makes the mistake of looking at the source and being blinded as a result.

because, of course it would be you with your adorable little lute, clapped on the back by everyone 'just one song, then, o'mighty bard, please!' and never one to miss such moments, you would go up in your imaginary stage and pick the one song you were sure to draw his attention, as if you don't do that enough with your presence already.

your eyes already locked on him, you do your little trick where you pretend your attention is divided equally, as if your eyes are roaming the crowd, committing every face you see to your memory when your sole focus is on him, as he is drawn to you.

astarion knows, it is utterly foolish and even a little dangerous of him to think like this, but he fears what is to come by the end of your noble and enthralling series of journeys, when your effect on him has been this grand already.

not a fun thought to entertain, certainly not at a joyous time such as this one, were it not for your current occupation, he is positive you'd have walked all the way back to him to give him a good smack on the arm, or maybe a fisk on his forehead, or a knock on his skull along with a scolding to inform he got quite the thick skull if he is sulking like this at a time like that.

is it the fear of what has become of him, or what is to come when too much time passes, he is uncertain. but it must be another way of gods' mocking him, and cursing you perhaps– of all those faces and races, why did it have to be a human, that selfish part of him hisses. all those elves in the bloodline and you just had to be fully human, didn't you? giving him a taste of heaven, only for it to be cut short.

it was supposed to be moths with short lifespans, the cycle of the moon; not the sun, with all its grace and sanctity.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #original character #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #bg3 astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #bg3 drabble #astarion drabble #bg3 angst #bg3 x tav #astarion x mc #astarion angst #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #gender neutral character

[verai-marcel]

A Curse and A Blessing (Astarion x Hearth Witch, AU, BG3 Drabble)

(I wrote this and realized there was no where it would fit in the current timeline of the fic, so it lives here as an AU)

"Welcome back—"

You put down your cutting knife and went over to the group, brushing your hands on your pants as you walked. Concern wrinkled your brow as you came closer.

Astarion was missing.

"What happened?"

"He's right here," Karlach said, pulling off her backpack and opening the flap.

A small white bat lay curled up on a pile of Astarion's clothes.

"What in the hells happened?"

The bat looked up at you and shrieked in a high pitched tone. You scooped up the small creature along with his clothes, and cradled them close to your chest.

Gale shrugged. "He rung that little feywild bell and talked to the pixie. Next thing we knew, he had been turned into this fluffy little thing."

The bat, ostensibly Astarion, hissed furiously.

"I'll take care of him," you said, wincing on your last word as the little bat clambered onto your chest and bit your collarbone.

Karlach raised an eyebrow.

"He's lapping at my neck, isn't he," you muttered.

She nodded, trying to hold back a laugh.

You waved them all off. "I'll handle this." You walked away, ignoring their snickers.

Entering Astarion's tent, you sat down. Letting the little fluffball lick your wound with his itty bitty tongue, you couldn't help yourself. You petted his soft fur. His body was a little bigger than the size of your hand, so you used two fingers to gently stroke him.

He suddenly stopped drinking and crawled down, resting on your bosom, and looked up at you.

"I'm pretty sure you're still aware of what you're doing," you said. "But since you make such a cute little bat, I'll allow it."

He made a soft squeaking sound and, settling himself on your chest, lay his head down and stared at you expectantly. After a few moments while you tried to figure out what he wanted, he reached out with one wing and flapped it.

"You want me to pet you again?"

He nodded.

Chuckling, you pet the little bat until his eyes slowly closed and he seemed to have fallen asleep.

Well, I can't go anywhere now that he's all cozy.

Then it occurred to you that pixie tricks only lasted an hour at most.

Wait, how long did it take them to get back—

Suddenly Astarion transformed back into his normal body, his weight crushing you.

And he was very, very, naked.

"Um."

"Oh." He let out a high pitched giggle. "Well, I suppose we don't need to look for a cure then."

"Um."

"Yes?"

"Could you... get off me?"

"Right, of course." He pushed himself up and rolled over. "You know, most people would have begged for the pleasure of having my naked body upon them."

"I'm not most people."

His expression changed from the flirty rake to something softer, more sincere. He reached and touched your cheek fondly. "I know, darling."

There was something a little melancholy in both his tone and his touch, and you wondered what it could mean as he put his clothes back on. You turned around as quickly as you could, but you still got an eyefull.

Well, that's going to haunt my dreams at some point.

When he was dressed, he held his hand out to you. "Shall we, my dear?"

You took his hand and let him lead you back out to the others.

#Bg3 #Batstarion #Au #Your Hearth is My home #astarion x f!reader #astarion #bg3 drabble #writing

[whathebeep]

idk if you’ll do these types of prompts but I was thinking what if Tav got kidnapped Cazador? main relationship of course being Astarion and maybe Halsin 👀

DUDE SHUT UP YOU LITERALLY READ MY MIND

Like I've been thinking about this kind of thing off and on and I LOVE THIS PROMPT SO THANK YOU

Definitely focused on a Poly Tav/Astarion/Halsin, placed early act 3 :) Using gender neutral pronouns for Tav.

TW: Torture, dismemberment, night terrors, trauma

(I was trying to find a gif of a Halsin/Astarion hug but I couldn't, someone @me if you can find one)

The party had only just arrived in Baldur's Gate; It was the first night at the camp at the old abandoned farm at the edge of town. It was peaceful; Goodnight kisses shared between Astarion, Tav and Halsin before the three returned to their own tents. Tav had shared during dinner the night before they wanted to see about perhaps getting a bigger tent for themself in town, so the three of them could comfortably sleep in the same spot when they desired to.

And by daybreak, Tav was gone. Panic arose when Halsin woke early to the panicked squeaks of the owlbear cub; Scratch was weak and bloody, and Tav's tent had collapsed in on itself in an apparent struggle. Tav was gone. Halsin's voice practically boomed across the campsite for help as he dropped and healed Scratch; the others arose and the worry was widespread.

Astarion, when he emerged from his tent, was inconsolable. He didn't speak, just quietly examined Tav's tent. Jaheira and the others argued over who could have done this- Orin? Gortash? There were plans already being made to storm Wyrms crossing and force Gortash to tell them where Tav went. Karlach was ready to choke the information from him.

But when Astarion finally turned to Halsin, and Halsin had parted Scratch's fur and revealed two sizeable teeth marks...it was obvious who had done this. Who had taken Tav.

It had only taken Dahlia and Leon to take Tav. A few well placed spells of sleep and hold person, Tav had woken in shackles in the kennel. Godey and Cazador stood before them, and Cazador did not hesitate to speak plainly; either they lure Astarion back, or they would suffer. Tav refused and Godey took his time making them suffer. Beatings, casting of fear that dominated their mind and showed them visions of Astarion and Halsin suffering; Astarion locked away in a tomb, crying, screaming, begging for freedom - Halsin trapped in Shadowfell, trapped to suffer for all eternity in darkness.

In the few hours that Cazador had Tav, they were broken by a combined effort of Godey and Cazador; Astarion had to suffer for running away, and from the spawn who had watched for their return, it was easy to tell what Astarion's weak spot was.

The entire party had stormed Cazador's manor. Astarion and Halsin led the charge side by side, mowing down Godey first and foremost. Tav's smell was strongest there; it horrified the two of them to see the fresh blood staining a mattress under chains on the wall.

Godey could only laugh in Astarion's face as Astarion shattered his skull when he refused to tell where you were. It was obvious, however. If you were not in the kennel, Cazador had you.

When they emerged into the tombs under the manor, Tav was nowhere to be found.

Astarion screamed till his voice was hoarse; Cazador would pay, he would pay for what he did, pay for all of this. Cazador could only laugh in their faces, promising Astarion's death in the coming ceremony; as Astarion would die, so would Tav.

The fight was long and grueling. It was of no hesitation to Astarion to murder Cazador the second he was pulled from his coffin. He stabbed and slashed and screamed at Cazador- How dare he, how dare he hurt Tav, how dare he do this to spite Astarion one last time. Cazador died with a smile and Astarion sobbed, Halsin quick to come to his side to hold him. The other spawn were freed from Cazador's control- and Leon was quick to reveal where Tav was.

When they pulled the tomb open, Tav was on the brink of death. Halsin and Shadowheart were quick to tend to their wounds once they were removed from the very same dusty tomb Astarion had once been locked away in. They were quick to bring them back to camp, Tav only conscious long enough to smile at the sight of their elven loves.

When they woke it was in the Elfsong, the others in the group moving camp while Tav was in recovery. Halsin and Astarion were at their side; Astarion namely sitting and keeping their head in his lap, Halsin sitting at their bedside in a stool.

They both look exhausted. How long had it been? Memories were foggy but Tav was still injured when their eyes finally opened. The relief was immediate, Astarion brushing hair from their face and gently brushing away the tears that fell from their face. Halsin carefully cast calm emotions to help soothe Tav.

So much had happened to Tav in such little time; Cazador punished them to the extreme because of their disobedience, refusal to obey and bring Astarion back.

Tav had their dominant hand cut off by Cazador.

Astarion apologized for it, kissing them gently. He was a wreck; guilt ridden over what happened to Tav. Halsin quietly reassured him, taking Astarion's hand in his own, carefully cupping Tav's cheek. Cazador was gone. Tears and kisses were shared between the three. Yet, Tav refused to share all of what happened to them aside from the obvious.

It only took a few days for Gale to bring a gift to Tav, a clamp-on bracelet that would give them a permanent mage hand. Magic had offered so much for those missing limbs, so it didn't take a lot of searching to find such an item.

Cazador was gone forever, Astarion, Tav and all the spawn were free.

But Tav still woke with screams of terror every so often. After a few nights of Halsin and Astarion rushing across the room to reassure Tav, they pushed two square shaped beds together in the corner of the Elfsong. The nights they woke with night terrors Halsin and Astarion were there to ease them back to sleep.

Even Halsin had started waking from trance with a start every so often, scared that he would wake and Tav would be gone. Astarion too. More often than not they would keep Tav between them, and hold hands with each other.

Cazador was gone; but the damage he had done would take more than a healing spell to recover from.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #astarion #tav #bg3 drabble #whathebeep #beepwrites #halstarion #tavhalstarion #tav/astarion #tav/halsin #tav/astarion/halsin #polyamory

[mxxny-lupin]

gale moaning as he devores your cunt, gripping onto your thighs as he grids his cock into the bed, "you taste amazing, tav" he moans as you both cum, your juices dripping down his chin as he looks up at you lovely

#gale dekarios smut #gale dekarios #bg3 drabble #moon talks #wrote this thinking about ciri and him..