#Astarion x gn Tav

[astarion-approves]

More than sex.

Astarion x gn! Tav

"You’re telling me, that you.. would pass on a night of… meaningless, fantastic, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mind blowing sex… for love?”

“Yes.”

Rating: Mature (for the subject but no actual sex or smut in any way shape or form.) Tags: Demisexuality, demisexual Tav, Demisexual Reader, No Smut, gn! Reader, Slight spoilers, Act One spoilers, Developing Relationship, Developing Friendships, Drabble, short and sweet, Confessions

Ao3 or keep reading below:

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

“I’m just looking for a little more excitement. A little more fun.”

Tav considered these words, anytime they saw Astarion having ‘fun’ was on the battlefield. Either stabbing his way through anything that stood before him, or sneaking up behind them and slitting their throat before they could even scream. “And what’s your idea of ‘a little fun?’”

Astarion smiled, taking a sip of his cheap wine before speaking, “By the hells. Sex, my dear. A night of passion.” 

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed. So, how about—“

“Shadowheart is free.” Tav looked over their shoulder to where she stood by her own tent where she fiddled with a bottle of wine attempting to open it with slow hands. 

“Wait, what—“ Astarion shifted to look past Tav to where she stood, the woman catching his gaze and glaring in return. 

“And she’s really pretty too,” Tav offered. 

“I’m not interested in hearing her praise her goddess tonight.” 

“Well, there’s also Lae’zel—“

Astarion shook his head. “I think she would rather behead me before she would ever bed me.”

“Halsin is available too—“ The Druid elf was handsome, and such a powerful one at that but before Tav could even finish, Astarion cut them off.

“Tempting, but not the one I’m interested in.” 

“Gale—“

“No.” 

Tav hummed, putting their hands on their hips as they scanned the rest of the camp. There were many others, but most were already too drunk to even remember their own names. “I can’t think of anyone else.” 

“There’s always you, darling.” 

“Me?” Tav snorted a laugh. Surely he must have been joking. Of all the people that Astarion could have… Tav would personally put themselves at the bottom of the list. 

“Yes, you. It’s not everyday someone like yourself would be propositioned by someone like me, and this may be your last opportunity—“

“No thank you.” 

“No?! What do you mean ‘no’?!” Astarion was shocked, his hands jumping to his chest as if Tav had stabbed him directly in the heart. 

Tav grimaced, the way that Astarion’s face dropped, the hurt that filled his eyes so quickly… “Look, I’m not… rejecting you—“

“Sure sounds like rejection to me—“

They shook their head. “I need to be in love first… before I can…” Tav lifted their hands, gesturing towards Astarion in a weak display of trying to find the words and failing. “Don’t get me wrong… you’re- you are breathtaking, Astarion. The most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on—“ 

“Yes, I know. But– you’re telling me, that you.. would pass on a night of… meaningless, fantastic, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mind blowing sex… for love?” 

“Yes.”

Astarion paused, taken aback. “Well, that’s actually quite admirable… But why?” 

“For me, I want it to mean something. Sex is an easily obtainable thing, but love… love you have to work for, to fight for, to earn and to cherish. Sex is great and all but… making love to the person who means the most to you in the world. That’s what I want. That’s what I need.” 

Astarion tapped his finger against his lips, thinking to himself before speaking again. “Hm. Sex and love, I never took you for such a sap,” he said with a light laugh. “Well, how do you feel about being friends then, hm? The kind of friends that protect one another, that is.” 

Tav chuckled. “I think it’s too late for that.” 

“Too late?! So what, now we can’t even be friends?!” Astarion threw his hands up, frustrated. “All I did was hit on you and now—“ 

“No, no,” Tav cut him off, reaching for Astarion’s hands and holding them gently. “What I mean… We can be friends but… I have developed some feelings for you. If you want to be friends, that’s fine. That’s great, actually. I just… well, I need to know if I should ignore those feelings—“  

Astatrion pulled his hands way, choosing to gesture towards Tav as he spoke. “So, let me get this straight. You have ‘some’ feelings for me?”

“Yes,” Tav replied with a nod. 

“But you don’t want to fuck me, tonight? Right now?” 

“Right.” They nodded again. 

“How very interesting… and even.. a little refreshing,” Astarion smiled, a smile that almost seemed shy… With his head turning away from Tav—and Tav swore they saw the smallest blush growing on his cheeks. 

“Refreshing?” Tav questioned, learning towards Astarion in an attempt to see that adorable blush— 

Astarion waved them off, the blush already gone and Astarion back to his usual self. “Never mind that, Tav. I guess we can see where this goes then?” He reached out, taking Tav’s hand into his own and giving it a light squeeze. “Whatever this is, anyway.” 

Tav smiled. “I’d like that.” 

#baldur's gate astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion baldurs gate #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #tav x astarion #astarion fan fic #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion x gn tav #astarion x gn! reader #astarion x gn reader #demisexual #demisexual tav #demisexual reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #baldur’s gate 3 spoilers #spoilers #no smut #baldurs gate fanficiton #velvet writing

[thedevilssinner]

I wanna share something because I don't want to suffer alone with my thoughts 😅

It's one of the scenarios where Tav knew Astarion before he was turned, but I've never read anything where it played out like this.

I apologize if something is wrong, English is not my native language.

Imagine that Tav is an elf and Astarion's lover before he was turned.

They're devastated when they finds out that Astarion has been killed. Mourning his death for a very long time and even moving away from Baldur's gate because everything reminds them too much of Astarion.

They know that all their happiness and love are gone. No one can fill the void that Astarion's death has brought them.

And now, two hundred years later, they stand on the beach, the sun beating down on their head, the burning Nautiloid at their back and before them... Astarion?

Only it's all wrong, his eyes are red and he's pale... paler than he's ever been.

Anger rises up in Tav. How dare some shapeshifter even take on Astarion's form after their beloved has been dead for 200 years?

And do a bad job at it!

Before the pale creature could even call for help again, Tav lunged at him with an angry cry, surprising the imitation and truckling it to the ground, dagger pressed to it's throat while they straddled his body. "How dare you?! How dare you to take his form?! Show me who you really are... now!" They command, surprising even themselves with their actions. But they couldn't stop... not when someone is using Astarion's face for gods knows what.

"Darling, there seems to have been a little misunderstanding. I don't know what you're talking about, and I'd appreciate it if you'd remove the dagger from my neck." The shapeshifter replies, his voice smooth and flirtatious and so unmistakably Astarion's that it hurts, and Tav presses the dagger a little harder against his neck.

"Shut up, shapeshifter!" Tav shouts at him, gaze anchored on that so familiar yet different face. "Where did you even get his face?! His voice?!" They ask angrily, the hand holding the dagger starting to shake. "You have no rights to pretend you're Astarion when he's... when he's gone. And to do it badly!" They continue, still angry but deep seated sadness linger behind.

The shapeshifter's eyes widen, opening his mouth as if he wants to say something, Tav noticing the fangs there and even worse idea that him being a shapeshifter, starts to creep into their mind.

"Tav?" Fake Astarion finally speaks, saying their name as if he were saying it for the first time in a long time, tasting it on his lips. The previous flirting gone. Instead he looked confused and as if just now he remembered something that was hidden in his mind. "You are them, aren't you? Gods, how could I forget... so beautiful." His red eyes glide along Tav's face, his voice nothing than a whisper. He's clearly lost in his head and Tav swallows thickly, realisation slowly grasping their mind but they fight against it.

"No, stop! Stop it! You can't be him. You can't... he's dead and your eyes are wrong. You're wrong." Tav says, their body starting to shake all over, threatening to cut him by mistake with the dagger still against his neck.

But now it's easy for 'the shapeshifter' to take Tav's wrist and move their hand away from his neck, easily wrenching the dagger from their fingers and tossing it aside. His lips stretch into a sad smile.

"That's what vampirism do to you, my love." Astarion says ever so softly, the deepest pain and sadness etched in his voice and Tav knows, feels it in their soul, that he is telling the truth.

So that's how Tav meets Astarion again, this encounter more painful and bittersweet than anything else.

They stay on the beach for a little while, Tav crying their heart out and Astarion trying to hold back his own tears. Both of them not expecting something like this to happen.

(Sorry if Astarion seems ooc.)

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x gn tav #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #baldur's gate tav #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #tav bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 writing #bg3

[brain-rot-central]

Would you be interested to do fanfic with Astarion getting a massage and maybe kisses ober his scars?

Scars

Tav gives Astarion a back massage. Thing is, Astarion isn't entirely used to giving up his back.

I sat on this for a long bit. Thank you for the prompt! 💗

Warnings: trauma mention, abuse mention, brief depiction of abuse

"I'm not so sure this is a good idea, love."

Astarion lay prone on his bedroll, his head tilted to the side. He's not looking at Tav necessarily, just in their general direction as sparks of anticipation jolt through his body. He eyes the bottle of oil within Tav's hands as they uncork the stopper.

"You don't always have to be the one giving, Astarion," Tav says as they pour the viscous fluid out into the palm of one hand. They place the bottle down onto the ground, reapplying the cork. "Sometimes it's nice just to take."

"Yes, but-"

"Do you want me to leave?" Tav interrupts, rubbing their palms together to warm the oil.

Astarion finally looks at Tav, furrowing his brow in doubt. "N-no, I don't. Just..." his voice trails off, gaze wandering to the flap of his tent. It ripples gently with the passing breeze. "Go easy over my back, please," he pleads. "It's... sensitive."

In more ways than one.

Tav nods, shifting closer to Astarion's form. "Of course," they agree, leaning over to plant a kiss on the back of his neck. Astarion shivers under them as their hands find the small of his back. "You let me know if it's too much, 'kay?"

With a sigh, Astarion nods, resting his face against the comforting fabric of his shirt. Tav starts slow, rubbing delicate circles into the dimples of his lower back with their thumbs. Their fingers hang over his hips, which, Astarion admits silently to himself, is oddly comforting. He imagines Tav holding him, guiding his hips to where they want him to be. Much more intimate than Astarion could have ever imagined. Pleasurable, even.

He's so used to being grabbed, pushed, and forced into positions. Hurried encounters with those who cared not for his pleasure, that it came secondary or not at all. Astarion keeps waiting for the moment where Tav hoists him up and slots him roughly against their crotch, waiting for the inevitable painful sting of being pried open without warning.

But it never comes.

Astarion can feel their crotch against the cleft of his arse, Tav straddling his hips for their own leverage, yet this position is unusually sensual. Tav's hands begin traveling up the sides of his torso and they lean further into him, pushing Astarion's hips further into the ground below him. The pressure of his center meeting the bedroll causes his arousal to stir, twitching softly to life as he haphazardly grinds his hips further into the deerskin below, chasing the sensation again and again.

Soft moans escape Astarion's lips as Tav kisses the midline of his back, applying light pressure to the muscles encircling his ribs as their hands glide over the delicate pale skin. "Is it okay if I touch them?" Tav asks quietly against his back.

His scars, they mean. They want to massage his scars.

Astarion's eyes focus again on the opening of his tent, flap blowing in the wind as another breeze blows past. When he closes his eyes, he imagines himself back in the kennels, lying on the cold stone floor beneath him in a similar position. Cazador is behind him, needle in hand, bringing the blade down hard into the vulnerable skin of his back. Astarion screams, or at least he remembers the feeling of screaming, as he relives the searing pain of his flesh being carved out. He claws at the stone floor as Cazador continues, voice failing him as the blade dances across his skin. Cazador chuckles darkly, telling Astarion revisions are to be made.

Astarion.

His head swims with nervous energy, though a small voice breaks through his concentration.

Astarion!

His eyes snap open, returning focus to his tent. Astarion becomes mildly aware of the hand over his mouth and he tries to control his labored breathing.

"Are you alright? You started screaming out of no where." Tav releases their hand from around his mouth and sits back. "Sorry, but I had to do something, lest the entire camp come running..." Tav sits back on his feet for a bit, silence passing over them both. "Did you want to stop?" they suggest. "It's okay if-"

"No, I'm fine," clarifies Astarion. "Sorry, dear. My mind was elsewhere for a moment."

"...Cazador?" Tav asks, quietly.

Astarion doesn't respond immediately. Moments pass before he slowly nods his head. He hears Tav sigh over his shoulder as they resume their place over the backs of his thighs.

"I have no sharp objects, aside from a nail or two," they say in reassurance. "All I'm trying to do is help you feel more at ease. I promise."

"I don't doubt that," Astarion admits. "This is just... different, for me." He gasps as he feels Tav's hands on his lower back again. "I... usually don't give people my back."

Their hands travel higher, and Tav feels the minute shakes of anticipation rumbling through Astarion's frame. Astarion sucks in a sharp breath and they move between his shoulder blades, tracing each indentation of the scars with their fingertips. They use the palms of their hands to place pressure on the muscles deep below, a soft moan of relief escaping Astarion as he eases into the touch.

"...I only want to make you feel good, Astarion," Tav coos above him, dragging their hands back up the length of his spine. They rub along the outlines of each scapula, digging their thumbs into hard knots of muscles. Tav circles them gently, huffing out a quick laugh as they feel the tension beginning to melt away from Astarion's frame.

His head is swimming in euphoric pleasure. His arousal has stirred back to life, but not due to lust. No, this is simply because his entire body feels good, so so good. Astarion feels himself loosening under Tav's ministrations. It dawns on him that he never gave thought to how tensely he held himself together. Another soft moan escapes his lips as Tav leans over again to kiss the back of his neck. The position pushes his half-hard cock further into the bedroll, his entire body instinctively curling upward, into Tav. He leans his head toward one side, granting them better access to his neck.

"Does it feel good?" they ask, littering chaste kissing along the side of Astarion's neck.

Astarion moans as Tav's hands run up and down the sides of his ribs again. "Y-yes," he gasps. "P-please continue."

The massage turns intimate again; Tav kissing down Astarion's back as their hands settle along his narrow hips. Astarion knows there won't be physical intimacy; he's not quite ready for that yet, but by the gods if this isn't close.

Tav works at his back for what feels like a tenday before finally sliding off. "How was that?" they ask, lightly brushing the backs of their fingers over his skin.

Astarion turns over, arousal flagging enough to not raise any uncomfortable suspicion. Though, could he blush, his face would be absolutely flushed. His eyes are heavy, his mouth hangs open. "Wonderful," he admits. "I would very much like to do that again."

Tav leans over and smiles, capturing Astarion's lips between his own. "Then again we shall."

#astarion #my writing #writing prompts #fanfiction #astarion fluff #trauma mention #abuse mention #abuse tw #answered #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x gn tav #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader

[starlight-tav]

Vows

Astarion x Gender Neutral Reader/Unnamed Tav

Warnings: brief mention of Cazador; Astarion's self-doubt; minor Act 2 spoilers

Summary: Tav has a gift for Astarion; Astarion has a lot of feelings and he is still learning to feel them

You walk up to Astarion's tent, calling his name in that affectionate way you do. He places a ribbon in the book in his hands and gives you his full attention.

"Yes, darling?"

"Do you have a moment to spare?" You ask, rubbing the back of your neck. "I'd like to—I have something for you."

He raises an eyebrow but gestures for you to come sit with him in his tent. You settle across from him on your knees, hands balled up on top of your thighs. He rarely sees you nervous, but he does his utmost not to betray his anxiety about that.

"Hold out your hand," you say. "Please."

It should concern him how he complies without hesitation, but it doesn't.

You reach into a pouch that hangs from your hip and produce something small enough to be entirely obscured by your fist. He watches your face intently as you place it gently into his opened palm, your own fingertips lingering on his skin for too brief a moment.

He looks at your gift and raises his eyes in surprise. Attached to a leather cord is a ring of intricately carved driftwood. It is both exquisite and unassuming – only upon close inspection do the delicately hewn druidic details reveal how much mastery was put into it. It is whole and unbroken.

"This is beautiful," Astarion glances between you and the ring, too many questions filling his mind all at once. "Where did it come from?"

"I made it," you reply, searching his features for any sign of discomfort.

His ruby eyes snap to yours, his lips parted in disbelief.

"You made this? For me?" He raises both brows.

You nod, balling your fists in your lap again. "I wanted to—to give you something to show you that I care for you. You have said that you don't know what we're doing, and I don’t need you to. But I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that… I want to stay by your side. I meant it when I said that you are more than your body. This is yours. You need not offer me anything in return."

Astarion's face softens as you speak, and he gazes at the treasure in his hand. He cannot remember ever receiving something so dear. His affection for you swells within him like a mighty wave, and he fears for a moment that he'll be washed away with it. But then his eyes meet yours, and the sincerity there is like salvation.

He believes you. Gods, he believes you.

He smiles and carefully places the cord over his head and around his neck. There's a faint warmth where the ring lies, nestled perfectly between his collarbones, and he realizes that you have imbued the circle with druidic protections. He struggles to swallow around the emotion balled up in his throat.

He holds out his hand, much like he did the night after that Drow attempted to solicit a bite from him—the night he confessed his failed plans to you. You take his offering and the warmth of your skin against his is as sweet as the sun that he loves so much.

"Thank you," he says.

He wants to say more. He fears that he's unworthy of your affection, but he knows that you would reassure him if he were to voice his concern. He wants more than anything to hear your affirmations. To hold your heart and faith close to his chest, taking the heat for himself. It is this desire to possess that stays his tongue.

He does not believe himself in any position to return your love the way he so desires to. Not until the shadow of his former master has been lifted. Not until he can be certain that his body is his own and can never be used to harm you again. Not until he's free.

So, for now, he will accept your gift and keep that close to his heart in your stead. But he vows to himself that one day he will be his own again; his own to share with you, purely because he desires to.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x gn tav #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #gender neutral tav

[saibug1022]

Other Fandoms Masterlist

Sometimes I manage to get hyperfixated on character and fandoms that ARENT Choices and I just gotta write about it, so this is for those. Currently it's just got my Baldur's Gate characters but trust me it will be added to. I am insane.

Fics

Baldur's Gate 3

Original Characters

Baldur's Gate 3

The Dark Urge - Kieran

The Tiefling Bard - Idris Baines

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fic #baldurs gate #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 durge #durge #tav #the dark urge #gn tav #astarion x tav #astarion x gn tav

[lovrspell]

Astarion not being used to someone that cares for his pleasure as much as you do.

warnings: 18+, fluff, breeding kink if you squint, aftercare, overstimulation, settled early in the relationship. reader is gn!

word count: 1,4k

Astarion that, guiding you through your climax with slow drags of his hips, flinches when you pull him into a leg lock and wrap your arms around him the same way a koala does to a tree trunk. That is when you realize, even through your blurry vision and confused senses, he was about to pull out of your sex before he could reach his own peak.

He always does this, but this time you wouldn't let him. He has the right to enjoy the moment the same way you do.

You've thought that he does it simply because he prefers to finish up alone with his own hands, as he had done in front of you numerous times before; but you were wrong.

The truth is, he doesn't even think about it. He focuses on your pleasure, neglecting his own and even edging himself way more than he probably enjoys for the sake of your orgasms; accustomed to this way of things, as it has always been him pleasing other people that most of the time never gave his pleasure more than a elusive thought, it comes natural for him to bring you to ecstasy and not worry about enjoying his own too much.

You shouldn't blame yourself for not realizing it sooner, though. After all, your romantic journey has just recently started.

He admits, he was pretty startled at first; the sudden movement had shook him out of his own trance-like state, focused on the sensations. That dazed, imploring look that he's so used to when he buries himself deep inside you meets his own eyes, and his muscles soften again.

You're gasping and panting, but despite that you manage to whisper to him,

“Stay with me. You're not done yet, are you?”

He's surprised. He didn't even understand why, honestly. Maybe, he didn't expect you to worry about that; everyone is greedy in regards of their pleasure, right?

...But not you.

In the end, it makes sense. You love him. It should be obvious that you care about his pleasure too.

However, he's not even familiar to that bare minimum.

His hips falter and he loses focus for a moment, before shaking his head ‘no’.

He felt your legs loosen around his hips so you could slide your hands over his waist, your grip gentle and reassuring. You give his flesh an encouraging squeeze before beginning to guide his hips towards your throbbing entrance.

Astarion gasps softly, his lips parting in delight as he makes no further effort to move his hips on his own: he lets himself be guided by you, melting away in ecstasy.

He can't help but notice the fact that your thighs are shaking, though. He sees tears in the corners of your eyes, the way you bite your lip nervously, the way you try to hold back whimpers and consequently inhale sharply every once in a while.

This is too much for you.

You're far beyond your climax and it wasn't even the first one: you're oversensitive, yet you push his hips towards yours with determination because you wish for him to finish with you, inside you.

“I-... I can stop if you want me to,” Astarion murmurs, strangely aroused by that realization that had just occurred in his mind.

“No... No. Just tell me when you're close.” you reply immediately, showing no hesitation nor willingness to stop this.

Just because it's too much, it doesn't mean it doesn't feel good for you. Well, maybe it's just too good, actually. Astarion hears you curse under your breath as you struggle to keep your grip firm on him, and decides to regain control, adjusting himself more comfortably between your legs. He grabs your waist and starts thrusting into you in a pace of his own; he's shaking, his eyes closed as he falls into a state of pure bliss in which he's neither too far nor too close to his orgasm.

He feels your hands slowly snake towards his along your own body. Your fingers intertwine around his and as he absentmindedly looks up at your face, he catches your lips curl in a small smile. A smile that, printed on your pleasure-contorted face, is a view that manages to make his cock twitch as he fucks you.

You're happy. You're happy because he's climaxing inside you, thanks to you, thanks to your touch and your wet and warm and inviting walls clenching around him —

He's with you. He's still there.

Before he could ask why you're smiling, his hips falter again and he feels a sweet shiver run down his spine. He's close, so deliciously close.

“Ah,” he whimpers, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewing on it. His brows furrow and he closes his eyes tightly. His back arches towards you and he leans in without thinking, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He trembles and he mumbles your name in your ear, over and over, hips chasing a relentless rhythm. Your own whimpers fill his ears as you arms wrap around his back, holding him close; it's so much, but you're willing to handle it for him. He has brought you to multiple orgasms in a single round several times, it's not like you're not used to it.

Next, his hands clutch your hips tightly and he groans as your walls clench tightly around his cock, sucking him in as if urging to not pull out. He welcomes that invitation.

Sloppy sounds, gasps and growls of excitement fill the room as, with one last hard, deep thrust he releases his cum inside you. He freezes, keeping his cock buried there — as deep inside you as possible, making you take every last drop of his semen.

Your walls tighten around him, your sex swells once more, but you don't reach another orgasm. That's fine, you think. Your focus is on Astarion and Astarion only.

He pulls back from your neck to rest his forehead against your own. He growls lowly as the pleasure dies down, a guttural sound that echoes through your being.

You've never seen him like this after any of his orgasms — and you've seen quite a few by now. He looks like he's in pure bliss, eyes half lidded and lips curved in a lazy smile. He's in heaven, you can tell. It's a good look on him.

“How do you feel?” you ask him, voice velvety and calm as you cradle him in your arms.

He doesn't pull out of you, rather stays perfectly still to not bother your tired, swollen sex — but he wants to cherish the feeling of your warmth hugging his cock a little longer.

You're fiery, both inside and out. It feels sublime.

“Mh.”

That's how you know it felt good.

“Mhm,” you echo him, nudging his forehead with yours and taking advantage of the closeness to steal a kiss from him.

“I truly cannot understand why I've never done this before.” he confesses, his voice an intimate whisper reserved to you and you only. He leans into you, pressing your sweaty bodies together.

“What? Come inside me?” you laugh quietly, moving a few wild curls away from his vision.

“Exactly that, love.”

“I guess it's better late than never.”

“You felt so good it's criminal I've never even gave it a thought.” he continues, giving you a sloppy kiss and letting his lips linger on your own for a bit longer, before he trails his mouth down your neck.

He prints tiny wet kisses all the way down your collarbone. You chuckle: it tickles a bit.

Although lying in his fluids combined with yours felt divine beyond comprehension and you didn't like the thought of putting off cuddling in bed until later at all, you had a tiring day ahead of you after tonight. It was already late: you have to settle down for the night. You have to sleep and, well, he might do for some meditation, or he could spend the night watching you sleep. A bit unsettling, but you've grown used to it.

“...Let's go take a bath, come on.” you whisper in his ear after a few moments of silence and, although the sigh against your skin lets you know that he wants to stay like this a little longer too, he gives a hum of approval.

After all, he doesn't care where he is as long as he can bask in your embraces.

#divider by cafekitsune #astarion #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x gn reader #astarion x fem reader #astarion x male reader #astarion fluff #astarion smut

[a-case-of-attachment]

Astarion didn’t get jealous.

Scared and lonely? Well yes, of course he did. He even felt angry and vengeful as well but when one considers the life he had been forced to live up until his involuntary relocation to the nautiloid you could hardly blame him for feeling those things.

He couldn’t really remember being jealous of anyone or anything in the short years he had lived before being turned. Then again, he couldn’t really remember much from then at all. Not how he looked, his mother’s name or even if there had been someone for him to love and cherish. Everything important was gone, like it had been swallowed up by a dense fog and no matter how much he search all he ever found was more nothingness. Hardly a good reference point when trying to remember if you had experienced something before or were just familiar with the concept from books.

It was possible he had once been jealous of Cazador’s chosen few. The favourites that had gotten to rest in actual beds and spared the crueller torments that often befell the spawn. Not forced to lay on the cold and unforgiving floor, surrounded by rotting rat carcasses and the smell of fresh and old spawn blood so thick in the air that it felt like he was choking on the stuff.

Maybe that had been jealousy, but Astarion thought it had been more spiteful envy. More angry and covetous of the reprieve then jealous of the attention the favoured few got. He didn’t want to be one of those pathetic, snivelling devotees that scurried around behind Cazador like roaches, blinded by their idiotic belief that all the pain and suffering meant something. That there would be a worthwhile reward at the end of it all. No, all Astarion had wanted was to be treated with just a shred of common decency. Something that he had been denied until he had been fortunate enough to find you after the crash.

So yes, Astarion was sure that he had never been jealous before yet here he was, most certain that as he stared across the fire of their ever-growing camp that was exactly what he was feeling.

You and Gale were huddled close together just outside his tent, heads leaning towards the other and whispering as you both poured over the pages of whatever spell book the wizard had pilfered from the bandit camp, they had raided just that morn. You were smiling, laughing as the idiotic man waved his free hand about, clearly regaling you with a tale that he was heavily embellishing if not outright lying about. You seemed to be enjoying it though, encouraging him with your sweet laughter and wide smiles even as you shook your head in disbelief.

Normally Astarion wouldn’t care if you were feeling gracious and decided to bestow one of your ever hopeful companions with your attention. Astarion was always the one you went too first when arriving back at camp. He was always the one whose flirtations you returned and the only one in their camp of weirdos and misfits who could say they had seen you naked and on more than one occasion at that. He was the one who’s attention you sought. The one you always made time for. Him. Not anyone else…normally but tonight wasn’t like normal because tonight when Astarion had approached you, all charming smiles and quick wit you had done the unthinkable and he had been left staring after you in shock and disbelief like a complete idiot because tonight, you had said no.

Now, don’t misunderstand, you were allowed to say no. He wasn’t a monster. He wouldn’t force you into anything you didn’t want like he had been. Sure, there had been a playful back and forth a time or two. You like to tease him as much as he did you, playing hard to get and making him work for every stollen moment and mouthful of liquid gold that ran through your veins, but it had been playful, done with a teasing smirk and eyes full of promise. Astarion had known that with the right word, the perfect brush of fingers and a well-timed appreciative once over that you would be putty in his hands, willing and open to his advances and what that would lead to. You had never outright said no to him before and for Gale for god’s sake.

Had you maybe hit your head on their last little adventure, and no one had noticed. Perhaps you might even be under some sort of spell or enchantment. Whatever it was there had to be some sort of explanation for this, this madness because there was no logical reason as why you would suddenly up and abandon him for Gale of bloody Waterdeep.

You laughed again, louder this time. Your smile wide and eyes practically glowing with it. Astarion’s mood darkened even more, his eyebrows furrowing as his scowl deepened. Honestly, what in the hells could be so funny about the dull drivel Gale passed off as story’s of his adventures? If you wanted a story, then Astarion could spin you a tale so grand and fanciful that whatever rubbish Gale was regaling you with would look like a child’s bedtime story.

Huffing he turned away, his grip on the book he had been pretending to read for the better part of an hour tightening as yours and Gale's laughter mingled in the air like wine and vinegar. He was not jealous. He wasn’t. He just didn’t like Gale’s barking bellow he called a laugh mixing with your melodic and light one. Really, he would be doing everyone a favour if he went over there and stole you away. It wouldn’t mean anything. Wouldn’t mean that Astarion was hurt and angry that you would want to spend time with Gale instead of him. You were free to do whatever you wanted. He wasn’t your keeper, and you were more than capable of making decisions for yourself even if those choices were clearly wrong.

Astarion’s eyes narrowed as he watched Gale subtly move closer to you, using the small spell book he had suddenly pulled from his pocket as a rather poor excuse to draw you in. The two of you were so close now that a leaf would barely fit between you. He couldn’t see what Gale was showing you anymore but what he could see was how Gale was looking at you. His head was turned towards you, his eyes soft and full of longing as his voice dropped into something gentle, smoother. You seemed oblivious to the shift in tone, your eyes and attention fixed on the book between you, but Astarion could see it all. Gale was a man in love and longing, looking at you like you were the most breathtaking piece of art and the first drop of rain after a drought. It was uncomfortable to watch what Gale probably intend to be a private moment and it made something squirm and tighten in Astarion’s stomach.

Everyone knew that Gale had romantic feelings for you, well, everyone except you but you didn’t seem to notice that almost everyone in their weird little group wanted you in one way or another. Astarion was sure that at least three of the others were halfway in love with you and those that weren’t coveted your body. Gale though, he was the one who had fallen hardest, his feelings as clear as if he had spelt them out with fireworks in the midnight sky.

Astarion had been so smug at first when you had started to favour his company over everyone else’s. He had been able to see the wizard’s heartache and longing, but he had scoffed at the foolish man’s feelings, making a grand show of whisking you off to his tent or other less crowded parts of the camp so he could have you all to himself. It had been a heady rush to have all your attention on him, to become the sole focus of someone who wasn’t expecting him to take his clothes off and seemed to genuinely enjoy his quick wit and rather scathing comments.

He had taken a rather perverse joy in calling you darling and seeing Gale scowl as you smiled ever so sweetly at Astarion. He had been so free with his touch, everything from a simple brush down after a fight to cupping your jaw or brushing his fingers gently across your cheek. He was the only one you allowed to touch you so openly, practically inviting him to lay a hand on you whether that be the small of your back, the inside of your thigh or even your hand, your fingers laced together. Gale had seen it all and Astarion had thought the wizard had understood that you were off limits to the likes of him, but the fool had apparently not given up hope and thought to worm his way into your good graces with made up stories of grandeur and whispered spells.

You turned your head towards him, a question on your lips that quickly vanished as your eyes widened, finally realising how close Gale had gotten whilst your attention was elsewhere. Time seemed to slow then, the world around him falling silent as everything else fell away apart for the two people in front of him.

Gale’s eyes fell from your eyes down to your slightly parted lips. His tongue slowly wetting his lips and giving them a slight shine. His eyes went back to yours, a flicker of uncertainty dancing through them before determination set in. He shifted, the dull thump of the forgotten book hitting the floor not enough to break the intense staring the two of you were doing. Your breath hitched, eyes widening impossibly more as you and Astarion both seemed to realise what was about to happen at the same time.

Astarion had never moved so quickly in his life before.

One second, he had been sat across the other side of the camp, book open but forgotten in his lap as he watched you light up for Gale and the next, he was up and across the space before the book even had time to fall closed. His fingers curled around your arm, and he yanked you rather violently onto your feet and away from the wizards’ searching lips. “Ahh!” Your surprised cry was loud, most likely drawing the others attention but Astarion barely even heard it, his eyes fixed on Gale who had jerked back at your sudden disappearance.

“There you are my darling.” Astarion smiled brightly, his voice loud and cheerful as he spoke over your stuttering indignation at having been so roughly handled. Gale was glaring back at him now, hands curled into fists on his thighs and practically vibrating with anger. Though he supposed it could always be the magic he was always consuming to keep from blowing himself and more importantly them up. It could be quite hard to tell sometimes and Astarion didn’t care enough about the other man to actually bother to work it out. All he knew was that he had to get you away from him before Gale got another one of his disastrously good ideas and tried to make yet another attempt on your lips. “So sorry to break up this little,” Astarion slowly dragged his eyes over Gale, hardly able to keep the sneer out of his voice, “dalliance but there is something I need your assistance with love.” He didn’t wait for an answer from either of them, spinning on his heels and dragging you along behind him. “Astarion!” you hissed in a mix of annoyance and disbelief, but you didn’t stop him, didn’t even try and break free of his hold, just letting him quickly lead you across the small camp and towards the tree line.

Now with a part two!!

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion x tav #gale x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #gn reader #gender neutral reader #jealous astarion #jealous gale #self insert

[spacebarbarianweird]

Batstarion Headcanons

Non-Ascended version

Masterlist

Headcanons

He enjoys his new abilities to the highest extent.

Being able to fly is the ultimate freedom, and being able to transform into a flying thing is the skill he never knew he wanted.

The problem is he is the most adorable little white bat the world has seen and also the size of a cat.

And you don't let him forget about it.

When he is in the bat form, you try to squeeze and rub him like a cat.

Also speaking to him with the stupid voice people use to talk to babies and pets.

He pretends it annoys him, but it doesn't.

Though Astarion gets annoyed when you wrap him in a piece of cloth, making him fold his wing around his body.

"Oh, we both know if you really didn't like it, you would transform back!"

When you travel, he sometimes sits on your shoulder, and you mock him for being a lazy vampire.

But he does it to transform back in the most unexpected moment and push you onto the ground with all his weight.

Traveling in the daylight is so much easier - he hides under your shirt like a cat, looking with his small red eyes on the world in the sun.

Time to time you give him your finger to drink blood - in the bat form, he doesn't need a lot, and you can both relax.

"Is it a cat you are carrying there?" "No, it's my ... pet bat!" "Aww, it's so adorable!"

And you keep rubbing the bat's head with your finger.

The moment he transforms back, he looks at you accusingly.

"Adorable? Really?"

"Not so much as in your regular form."

Sometimes you are so tired and stressed he can't console you - neither sweet words nor hugs help. Then, he transforms into the bat and just sits on your shoulder purring into your ear.

He also transforms when it's too much for him.

When he feels disgusted about his body and the cold grip of horror squeezes his undead heart, he turns into the bat mindlessly and tries to hide or fly away.

You often manage to let him hide in your clothes, hiding him from the world by your body and thin fabric.

Bonus (you and Astarion have a dhampir daughter):

She can polymorph into the bat from a very young age.

And you are in awe of how tiny little bats are (she can easily be put in a pocket of your shirt).

She also uses it as her stress-response.

The second she sees something scary, she transforms into a tiny vampire pup (also white in color) and hides in her father's sleeve or under his jacket.

"What scared you, princess?" he asks, touching the delicate wings.

*angry and scared squeaking*

Tag list @tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashrio20 @not-so-lost-after-all @vixstarria @wintersire @marcynomercy

#spacebarbarian headcanon #batstarion #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion headcanon #baldurs gate 3 #astarion headcanons #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #tav x astarion #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gn reader #astarion x reader #astarion and tav #astarion x you #astarion fluff

[yourfriendowlbear]

Protection (Astarion headcanons)

Astarion x gn!Tav

Summary: Astarion notices how you've protected him over the years.

Warnings: brief mention of manipulation; murder; small act 3 spoilers; brief mention of nightmares

Note: this is my first astarion piece I'm posting! let me know if you'd like to see more headcanons, or if you have something you'd like to request

He’s watching you adjust a curtain to block out the afternoon sun from the drawing room when he realizes it. 

You spend so much energy protecting him. In big and small ways.

Just now, you’re balanced on top of a stool, fighting with the thick cloth to get it to lay just right over the window just so that he can feel comfortable in the home you share together.

But really, you’ve been doing it since the beginning. Looking out for him whether you realized it or not.

You’d been so willing to protect him from the intellect devourer that he'd made up to manipulate you. Hadn’t even thought about it, just sprung into action because he’d asked for help.

And then, only a short time later, you’d protected him from the Gur Hunter. You’d followed his lead, allowed him to pace the conversation. And then, when it was clear what needed to be done, you’d killed the Gur, an arrow loosened from your bow piercing the hunter’s throat.

Countless battles, you’d fought by his side, felling enemies before they got too close, tossing him healing potions when his injuries were too egregious.

You’d even plotted out a damn near-perfect strategy for taking down Cazador, spent countless nights reading ancient scrolls in the Devil’s Fee and padded the pockets of more dark wizards than Astarion could count to arm yourself with as much information as you could gather.

And when you were in Cazador’s chambers, your plan was put into motion. He hadn’t been particularly happy about hanging back, but when the fight started and Cazador still hadn't seen him, Astarion was glad for your thorough mind.

He did notice, just as Lae’zel went in for the first blow, that you’d placed yourself directly in Cazador’s path, blocking him bodily from accessing Astarion. Of course, there was no way you could stand up to the vampire master’s magic, but the barrier stood as a warning–Cazador would not get to Astarion easily.

You make sure his tea is the perfect temperature, make sure he’s well-fed, keep him company, bring him more books when he desires.

And when the nightmares plague his rest, your touch is gentle as an angel’s as you stroke his hair and try to lull him back to calm.

There are tomes on the table in your bedroom, ancient, dusty things that tell of events long forgotten. You’d heard a drunk orc make mention of a ring that allows vampires and drow to walk in the sun, and that was all it took to set you off on another quest to defend him–this time, from nature itself.

The stool wobbles under you, and lightning quick, Astarion is there to steady you. His hands find your hips just as the stool tips over and he’s able to brace you and let you down gently.

Maybe he protects you, too.

#astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion fluff #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion headcanons #astarion romance #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

[astarion-approves]

Hello! So hopefully this isn't too similar to stuff you've done previously if it is feel free to skip, but may I perchance request a wee drabble of soft astarion caring for a particularly vulnerable tav after he takes maybe a bit too much blood. Like, tav is all pale and cold, tremble-y and dazed- maybe a wee bit delirious or confused, ya know blood loss things. (Someone needs to be making sure Tav is getting some juice or something after all the blood they're giving to astarion and losing in battle) thank you!!! I love your work! You're doing a great service for the astarion lovers <3

Astarion x GN! Tav

A poor bloodless Tav is just a bit out of it.

Tags: Gn! Tav/reader, OOC Astarion, confessions, hand feeding, 850+ words, short and sweet

Read below or on AO3

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

“Astarion.” Shadowheart approached him, waking him from his daytime nap, her lips pressed together and a glare already prepared before she even reached his tent. “Have you noticed something wrong with Tav?” 

“Hm?” Astarion blinked up at her, his arms resting behind his back and not bothering to move as she stared down at him. “No, why?” 

Shadowheart rolled her eyes and tilted her head to the side, gesturing for Astarion to look in that direction. Astarion sighed and sat up in his bedroll, glancing to where Tav stood. 

They held a single kiwi in front of their face, their eyes narrowed as they stared at the fuzzy fruit. 

Astarion blinked as he watched them. “Shadowheart, for just how long have they been standing there like that?” 

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Long enough for me to notice?” 

“By the Hells,” Astarion cursed and stood up, jogging past Shadowheart and making his way to Tav. 

They didn’t even notice him approach, their staring competition with the kiwi still on going. 

“Tav,” Astarion gently grabbed their shoulder, earning a gasp from Tav and the thud of the kiwi as it fell to the ground. 

“Shit,” they said with a frown. “I was going to eat that.” 

“I didn’t mean to startle you—“

“Do you wanna share it?” 

Astarion looked down to where the kiwi laid at Tav’s feet, it landed directly into a muddy puddle. “I’m not sure you should still eat that, darling.” 

“Damn,” Tav replied and sighed. They turned to walk away, bumping into Astarion’s shoulder and nearly falling to the ground. 

Astarion reached out quickly and caught them, holding Tav in his arms, surprised by how little strength they had. They trembled in his arms, their skin a few shades lighter than it normally was—

“Tav, did you eat anything after I fed from you last night—?”

“Yes! Actually… No… I’m not sure?” 

Astarion clicked his tongue at Tav, letting out a quick sigh before scooping them up and into his arms completely. They both said nothing as Astarion carried them to his tent, the human opting to snuggle their head into his chest as he carried them. 

He carefully lowered them into the makeshift bed, Tav smiling up at Astarion and attempting to pull him down and into the bed with them. 

“Ah, ah, ah, not quite yet, my dear. We need to get you a little snack.” 

“I’m your little snack.” 

“Yes, you are. My cute little snack.” Astarion chuckled as he left the tent in search of some food. It was rare that Tav would forget to eat something after one of their feedings, the human insisting on being awake for it these days as they claimed they enjoyed the intimacy. Not that Astarion disliked that, in fact it made his bite much more enjoyable knowing that Tav was there and happy to share their blood with him. Amongst other things…

Soon Astarion returned with clean fruit in hand, cut strawberries and a few blueberries prepared and resting in a bowl for his companion to enjoy. “Here,” he said and held a strawberry to Tav’s lips. “Eat this.” 

“I wanted a kiwi.” 

Astarion smiled and ran his free hand through Tav’s hair before pausing and carefully easing their head up and into his lap. “I’ll make sure to get you more kiwis later. For now, please eat.” 

Tav pouted, but allowed Astarion to feed them the berry. 

“My apologies, Tav. I must have taken more blood from you than usual. I didn’t notice how you were feeling.” 

“Don’t be. Maybe I just like when you hand feed me.” 

Astarion rolled his eyes and pressed a blueberry against their lips next. “Then I will gladly feed you fruit every day. It’s the least I could do.” 

“I love you.” 

Astarion froze, a slice of strawberry halfway in Tav’s mouth as they gazed up at him with tired eyes. “Tav—“

They pushed the berry to the side of their mouth with their tongue, only struggling slightly as they quickly chewed it and swallowed it down. “I know you’re not there yet, that you might not ever be there, and I know I probably look like shit right now—“

“Never—“

“But I love you, and I’m always willing to feel faint for a little bit if it means making you happy.” 

“Tav,” Astarion placed the bowl to the side. “What would ever make you think that I don’t love you?” 

Tav’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“Do you have any idea how much I adore you?” Astarion laughed. “I don’t need your blood. Of course.. I do rather enjoy it, but I don’t need it.”

“But—“

“Could you honestly see me hand feeding fruit to Lae’zel because she gave me a little blood?” 

Tav snorted. “No.” 

“Of course not, my dear. Only you.” Astarion lowered himself, kissing Tav softly, briefly swiping his tongue over their berry flavored lips before pulling back with a smile. 

“So… does this mean we’re dating?” 

“I would certainly hope so. What other vampire spawn is going to feed you strawberries? You won’t find another like me.” 

#it's ALRIGHT #not my best lol #baldurs gate 3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #astarion x gn tav #astarion x gn! reader #astarion x gn reader #x gn reader #x gn!reader #gn! reader #gn reader #fluff #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion fan fic #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #OOC astarion #Out of character Astarion #bg3 #velvet writing #drabble request

[thedevilssinner]

Elven soulmates - Astarion x Elf!Tav - Headcanon

I listened to one song and for some reason it screamed Astarion x Tav at me. This man is really ruining my life 😅

Anyway… the song was ‘IDK you yet’ and I just thought about the two of them being soulmates or something like that and then I found a thread on https://www.enworld.org about elven relationships and someone mentioned soulmates which got me searching and I found this page https://www.realmshelps.net/charbuild/races/elf/leaf.shtml where is mentioned that elves can find someone they call their thiramin which should mean soulmate in elvish language. 

Here’s the part from the https://www.realmshelps.net :

Upon reaching adulthood, elves continue their sexual explorations. Eventually, though, each discovers that his heart has developed a capacity for lasting and exclusive love. Like most other important things in their lives, elves describe this in mystical terms. They believe that a person's spiritual progress is unknowingly intertwined with that of another. This soulmate is called a thiramin. Upon meeting his thiramin, an elf's heart fills with passion and certainty. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the other party is felled by the same feeling of immediate and eternal devotion. (Though rare, an unrequited feeling of thiramin is always disastrous, bringing centuries of wrenching heartbreak. Sufferers often commit suicide or succumb to the temptations of evil.) Elves almost always feel thiramin for people they meet for the first time: In other words, visitors from other communities. Intermarriage between communities strengthens the bonds of communication between settlements, allowing them to quickly band together against the armies of evil that march across the land.

Now… You can imagine what that did to me, when I thought about the idea of Elf Tav knowing Astarion before he was turned into a vampire so… here’s some headcanons. Suffer with me.

Tav and Astarion met in Baldur's gate. Tav being new to the city. Young elf exploring the world outside their home.

Maybe they met in an art gallery or a tavern or some other place… that’s up to you, but when their eyes met, they immediately knew the other one was their thiramin. Heart beating wildly as they smile at each other.

They start dating, of course. Trying to get to know each other and spend as much time together as possible. 

I think that Tav would call Astarion their star… or maybe even ‘my starry night’

Astarion would call them ‘my moon’ (idk, I just love the idea of them using moon and stars as pet names)

Or… inspired by Game of Thrones - Astarion would call Tav ‘my sun and stars' while Tav would call him ‘the moon of my life’

Maybe they dated for a year or two, thinking about buying a house together.

But then Astarion was beaten ‘to death’ by the Gurs.

Tav could immediately tell that something was terribly wrong. The connection they felt with Astarion severing and sharp pain piercing through their heart. Panicked, they tried to find Astarion, going to his home but they already came too late.

Their blood turned into ice when they saw the mercenaries from the Flaming Fist already around his home. Seeing them carrying an awfully pale and beaten body of Astarion. (I don't remember if it was mentioned if Astarion lived in a Lower or Upper city before he was turned, so I chose a Lower city 🤷🏻‍♀️) (Also, not sure how and where exactly were he turned so I hope this is fine)

After a few days, Tav still couldn’t comprehend what truly happened. They felt just… empty. As if every color, every piece of happiness was ripped away from their soul. Not even able to visit Astarion’s grave because of that.

When Tav's family found out, they came to them, taking them to their homeland, because they knew how bad losing your soulmate could end for an elf. Tav fell into a deep grief and depression that lasted almost 100 years, doing some questionable things here and there until they started to function again.

On the other side - Astarion was beaten by Gurs but his final death came from Cazador, the change itself working just like if he truly died. His connection to Tav is severed and the shock of his change into a vampire erases all memory of them from his mind.

And then the 200 years of torture begin. Astarion doing anything he could and needed to do for survival. Flirting and luring victims to Cazador. He was good at it, great even, but something always felt wrong. 

Well, everything he did for Cazador was wrong, but touching another person, sleeping with them, and whispering words of love to them seemed wrong for another reason he couldn't understand. It was as if his subconscious was always trying to tell him something, but he couldn't say what.

There was just always something wrong with the victims. Wrong eye color, wrong tone of voice or even their pet names they sometimes used for him. 

Is he missing something? Someone? Longing for the embrace of a specific person that is unknown to him.

He always blamed his vampirism for this feeling. Thinking that’s just how it is. The feeling of wrongness and emptiness residing in him for the 200 years of his unlife.

Until the Mind Flayers and Nautiloid.

But back to Tav:

After a hundred years of grief, Tav finally started to get better. Diving into learning the profession/class they have chosen. Trying to enjoy life as much as they could, but the emptiness never fully disappeared. As if part of their soul was still gone.

They even tried to date, pressured by their family to at least try, but when their new partner tried to kiss them… they just couldn’t do it, dull pain spreading through their body and guilt flooding their mind. They immediately break up with the person and decide never to find a partner again.

But apart from that, they were relatively happy. Another 100 years slowly drifting away, the memories of Astarion remaining, if a little faded.

Until the Mind Flayers and Nautiloid.

Game plot:

Tav was walking with Shadowheart and Gale when they heard someone call for help.

Of course, they immediately headed for the voice, trying to help all the survivors of the crashed ship.

But when they finally came to the person they heard, the blood ran cold in their veins, the weapon they held falling from their grasp. It was like seeing him for the first time in their life but at the same time not… Astarion.

They notice that he looks different. His eyes are the wrong color and he’s so pale… but it’s him. They know it is because their soul sang when their eyes locked… but how? 

“Hurry, I’ve got one of those bran things…” Astarion's voice trailed off as he fixed his eyes on Tav and gasped as an unfamiliar sensation filled his body. It was as if everything finally clicked and his mind was flooded with memories he didn't know he had.

That's how far I've come with this idea. I'm not sure how it would have gone on, but I imagine it would have taken a while for Tav and Astarion to become partners again. Both mourning the years they could have spent together if it weren't for Cazador. Tav learning to love the new Astarion he has become, because he was different from the elf they knew before and Astarion learning to love again overall.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x elf!tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #headcannons #astarion fanfic idea #fanfic idea #astarion headcanons #astarion x gn tav #astarion x gn reader #elf tav #Spotify

[oh-theseus]

bloody stones

pairing: astarion x gn!reader, astarion x gn!tav summary: you nearly die and astarion still can't bring himself to be honest with you. word count: 4,018 a/n: first time trying to write for astarion (or just bg3 in general) & i'm not sure it came out how i wanted it to, BUT i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless <333 i kind of wrote this to be like a background for a future thing i think... but no promises bc i am anything if not inconsistent 😭

warnings: descriptions of blood & injury, canon typical violence, mentions of past abuse. lmk if i should add more!

You were fairly certain you had never been as close to death as you currently were. Even while trapped inside of the nautiloid ship, you had felt like you would make it out. Granted, that might have been because you thought Lae’zel was going to kill you if you died, but still. Even then, on a ship that was actively crashing from hundreds of miles in the sky, you’d thought you’d make it out.

That hope is nowhere to be found as Z’rell drives her ax into your lower leg. You have been injured in battle dozens of times but this is the first time your injury has ever made you fall to your knees within three seconds of receiving it. There is next to no pain at first, but then she pulls her ax from your leg, and it feels like… well, like your leg was just split open.

Blood gushes down your leg, and you can’t stand up again, but by the grace of one of the gods, you manage to block her next attack. Her ax meets the blade of your sword with a loud clang that you can hear over the sounds of other blades clashing and spells being conjured. Anger blazes in Z’rell’s eyes and she surges her weapon further with as much strength as she can muster. You met her with the same effort, but you’re losing so much blood so fast. You’re not nearly as strong as she is.

A noise that is somewhere between a cry and a grunt falls from your lips. But you are certain this is it. You’ll die here. In Moonrise Towers with a parasite wiggling within your skull. You’ll die in a blighted land and your friends will go on without you. If they survive, that is. You can feel your arms wobbling, about to give out. Her ax will come down on your neck and you’ll sit here choking on your own blood until you die. Maybe she’ll dig the Illithid parasite out of your skull and consume it just as your Dream Guardian had urged you to do so many times before. You doubt Z’rell would have qualms about it though - if fact, she might just keep you alive while she digs around in your skull. She seems like the type.

But then there’s an arrow embedded in Z’rell’s neck. And now she’s the one choking on her blood, her weapon faltering. You don’t have time to be grateful, not when she’s determined to make a killing blow and take you out with her. It takes all of your effort to roll out of the way, her ax bouncing off of the bloody stone floor where your head had just been seconds previous. Your head is spinning from the movement, and your leg feels like dead weight, but you manage to draw your dagger and shove it deep into the disciples stomach.

Z’rell falls to her knees. Then forward, onto her face. Dead. 

Hands are underneath your arms, dragging you away from the rest of the battle before you even have time to process that you aren’t dead. You have half a mind to kick and struggle, but when you try to push the hands off of your body you stop your fighting. You know these hands.

“Astarion,” you choke out, tilting your head upwards to see him above you, carefully dragging you behind a turned over table. You can feel a trail of blood being left by your leg; for a moment you wonder if Astarion had smelled your blood before he saw it.

“Don’t talk,” Astarion scolds, propping your back against the table. Blood is splattered on his face and armor, his bow slung across his body. Your eyes shift to his quiver where only three arrows remain. If you weren’t so busy trying not to pass out from blood loss, you might have told him you were right when you’d told him this morning he needed more arrows. But you can hardly convince yourself to breathe, let alone make a joke.

Astarion’s face is twisted into an expression you don’t think you’ve ever seen him wear before. There is determination there as he examines your wound, cursing beneath his breath. There’s concern too. But something else dances in his crimson eyes that makes you tilt your head to the side curiously. 

Fear.

Astarion is scared. 

“How bad?” you force out, leaning your head back against the overturned table. Your eyes lock on the ceiling of Moonrise. This had been a temple once. Briefly, as you fight to keep your eyes open, you decide that it might’ve even been beautiful.

“Not terrible,” Astarion lies. You know it’s a lie, and he knows you know that, too. You might’ve looked at him, tried to assure him you would be okay if you believed it. But you’re not quite sure that you do, so you keep your eyes on the ceiling, listening to the sounds of battle slowing down behind you.

Astarion stops talking after that. Your silence and sudden interest in the ceiling is enough to make Astarion certain his heart will start beating again just so it can race in fear. But his hands are quick in grabbing a healing potion from your belt and helping you get it down. They’re faster still as he shuffles through his discarded back for cloth to press to your wound. 

Blood quickly soaks the white cloth and Astarion’s hands, but the vampire doesn’t mind. He can’t be bothered to think about how potent your blood smells, how easy it would be to just take some for himself. He is certain that if you’d been bleeding out in front of him like this when you first met that he would’ve taken every last drop of blood that he could get. But right now… Astarion wasn’t sure he had ever wanted to puke at the sight of blood more.

Astarion isn’t sure he’s ever felt a panic quite like this before. Perhaps when he’d woken up in a coffin six feet underground. Maybe when he’d realized he was a slave to an evil vampire lord. But other than that? No, Astarion had never felt fear like this. Fear that clutches him by the throat, makes his hands start to tremble. Fear that won’t let him focus on the battle coming to end. Not even to see if his companions - his friends - had survived. All he knows is you, your blood coating his hands, and terror coursing through his entire being.

He’s so consumed by his fear that he doesn’t notice you’ve finally passed out. Nor does he hear Shadowheart approach until she’s shoving Astarion away from you, her hands immediately coming to rest above the gash in your leg. She starts to mutter the words of a healing spell and even Astarion can tell that she’s completely spent, that she’s using her last bit of magic and strength to coax your skin back together.

“Wake them up,” Shadowheart hisses, her eyes still locked on your leg. “Wake them up now, Astarion!”

The near crack in Shadowheart’s voice stirs Astarion from his fear driven stupor. His hands are on your face immediately, your name falling from his lips once, twice. His fingers find the pulsepoint at your neck, and Astarion doesn’t dare to move until he feels it. It’s faint, but it is there.

But your eyes are still closed, and no matter how hard Astarion tries, you will not wake up. You’re still breathing, but it’s hard and labored, and Astarion is certain that if he looks away from you for even a moment you will be gone for good. He didn’t know much, but Astarion did know that a world without you was not one he was willing to return to.

By the grace of… something, Shadowheart manages to mend the skin of your leg. She’s exhausted and can hardly stand by the time she’s finished, but she does it. You’re still out cold, and Astarion is not sure whether to start crying or to find something else to kill to distract himself.

“It’s the blood loss,” Wyll assures him quickly, hauling Shadowheart up from the ground with her arm over his shoulders. “They’ll live. But we need to move them. Now.”

The Blade of Frontiers does not waste another moment, leading Shadowheart across the main floor of Moonrise Towers, down into the basement. Astarion doesn’t hesitate to do the same with you, his blood coated hands holding you so, so carefully.

When you wake up, you’re pretty sure you’re dead. You didn’t know what you expected the afterlife to hold, but it certainly was not a stone floor and the smell of mildew. For a second you think that maybe you could be somewhere else (somewhere where you are not dead) but you can’t think very clearly right now. All you can feel is a distant throbbing in your head and a bone deep cold. Your leg… You could feel your leg. That was good, considering the last thing you could recall before passing out was taking Z’rell’s ax to your shin.

And Astarion. You remembered his familiar grip, pulling you to safety. You remembered his crimson eyes, the fear you’d seen in them. But that was it. You didn’t remember passing out or how light you had felt while blood seeped from your leg. For a moment, it troubles you that you can’t remember. But if this was truly your eternal resting place… maybe it was a good thing you couldn’t remember. You’re not sure that it's really something you’d enjoy dwelling on for the rest of eternity.

You’re not sure how long you lay there. You don’t move your body, and your eyes keep falling closed every once in a while. You feel lightheaded, yet impossibly heavy at the same time. All you can bring yourself to do is stare at the ceiling. Maybe there is a god here, because you’re gifted the memory of doing the very same thing before passing out the first time. And this ceiling looks remarkably similar to the one in Moonrise Towers.

That voice, too. The one you can hear in the distance - almost as if they are shouting for you from the other room. The voice is so similar to…

“Astarion?” You breathe out, your eyes finally shifting away from the ceiling. They fall instead to the person beside you. At first, they’re just a jumble of white curls and red eyes. But then your vision clears and so does your hearing. Astarion’s repeating your name, asking if you can hear him. All you can do is nod. At least you know you’re alive, though. Or at least, you’re pretty sure. Your brain is still foggy. The lingering effects of blood loss? Or perhaps one too many healing potions?

You somehow manage to force yourself into a sitting position. Astarion’s right hand splays against your lower back carefully, his left one hovering in front of your body to catch you if you fold in on yourself. When you straighten your back, the room spins so fast you’re certain that Gale’s cast a spell to make it do that. Your hands grip Astarion’s left arm to keep from falling over.

“Easy, easy,” Astarion says softly. You’re not certain of many things right now, but you are certain that you have never heard Astarion use that tone before. One so gentle, so soft. Even when he’d told you of Cazador and the scar that tainted his back. 

“I’m okay,” you reply after a moment. Your hands still grip his arm but neither of you seem to mind it. “I’m okay, promise.” The sentiment is just as much for yourself as it is for Astarion.

Astarion only hums in reply. His eyes are flickering over your face. Like he’s taking you in for the first time - or perhaps even the last. His hand on your back is a welcome weight and the feeling of his forearm under your fingertips keeps you grounded. This is real. You are here.

You are alive.

“Holy shit,” you curse. Your eyes widen and your breathing slowly begins to pick up. You’d been so close to dying, to bleeding out in a cursed land so far from home. You’d never thought you’d be one to care so much about something like this, but the fear that you could’ve died is gripping you by the throat, pinning you beneath its clutches. 

Astarion notices this. Of course he notices. He notices everything about you. The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. How you shift your weight from foot to foot when unsure about something. How your hands flex when you’re growing frustrated. So of course he notices your breathing picking up, your grip on his arms becoming just slightly tighter.

“You’re okay, you’re okay. You need to breathe, love.” He says your name softly then, still in that foreign tone of his. The hand at your back comes up to cup your face, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone. “Breathe,” his voice is firmer now, one you’re used to from him. Maybe it’s that tone of his that compels you to listen. Maybe it’s his hand cradling your face like you might slip away as soon as he lets you go. Or maybe it’s the fact that his eyes are still swimming with that fear you’d seen before you lost consciousness.

It takes a few moments, but you manage to even out your breathing. Those invisible claws at your neck retract, fading into the shadows of the room. The basement of Moonrise Towers, you realize. That was why the ceiling looked similar to the one upstairs. 

Everything returns to you then. The battle, Ketheric, the ax, the amount of blood you’d lost. Astarion’s arrow in Z’rell’s neck.

“You killed her,” you say, as if Astarion had not killed dozens of other enemies during your travels. “Nice aim.”

Astarion visibly deflates as soon as the joke leaves your lips. Your lips quirk into the smallest of smiles despite yourself. But then Astarion retracts his hand from your face, and that small smile falls away slowly. Astarion pretends not to notice it. You pretend like you don’t either; your attention shifts to your right leg, studying the skin exposed by the large tear in your pants. You make a mental note to find new pants.

Your hand trembles slightly as you remove it from Astarion’s arm and bring it down on your leg. Gingerly, you pull the ruined fabric back more and take in where the wound should have been. Instead, your skin looks near perfect. There is a thin scar from where Shadowheart’s healing had knitted the skin together but that is the only indication that your flesh had been torn apart that very same day.

“For a woman who worshiped the Lady of Loss, Shadowheart was rather good at keeping me - us from losing you.”

Your eyes shift to Astarion’s at his slip. You try to not let your face fall when he pulls his arm from beneath your other hand. He leans back in the chair that matches the table you’re laid out on top of, crossing his arms and screwing his face into that expression you’ve grown to recognize as a mask. A flash of hurt floods through you. Selfishly, you wonder how much more you will need to do to prove yourself before Astarion finally, finally trusts you.

“Shadowheart is a good healer,” you say instead of what you want to say. You want to comment on him being scared. You want to point out that he had literally saved your life. You want to tell him that that is not something you just do for someone you’re looking at with sheer indifference. “I think you’re the only one who doubts her.” Your own tone has changed. Despite the hurt in your heart, your tone is sharp.

“I do not doubt her, my dear. I don’t trust her. There is a difference,” Astarion replies with a wave of his hand. You don’t like this game. You hate this game. Why must he insist on playing it?

“Do you trust anyone, Astarion?”

If you were anyone else, Astarion would’ve had a quick retort. Or if you’d said it with anger in your voice. But you’re you and the question comes out with far less frustration than you had wanted it to. Instead, you sound sad. Hurt. And somehow, seeing you look like this is almost as bad as watching you bleed out. He predicts your next words before you say them, but he still winces at them all the same.

“Do you trust me?”

Your question hangs in the air between the two of you. Maybe it’s the lack of blood in your system that makes you say it. You never would have dared to ask something so vulnerable just a few feet from the rest of your companions normally. Maybe it’s the fact that you had almost died. Almost died with so many unsaid words swimming through your mind. Maybe that’s why you say it. Or maybe you’re just tired of not knowing what Astarion is truly thinking and feeling.

“You know I care for you,” Astarion replies after a moment. And you do know - how could you not when you’d seen his fear at the prospect of losing you with your own two eyes. How could you not know that he cared for you when he was so gentle every time he took your blood? How could you not know that he cared for you when he had sat beside you on sleepless nights? 

But that was not what your question was. 

“That’s not what I asked.” You intend to sound firm still. You fail, though, and you sound every bit as hurt and frustrated as you feel. “Why not?” Why didn’t he trust you? Or better, why did he not trust you enough? He trusted you enough to tell you about Cazador and what his former master had done to him. But he didn’t trust you enough to be honest about his emotions - especially his emotions towards you. Why? Why?

You watch as Astarion shifts in his seat. At first, you think he’s going to get up and walk away from you. Instead, he shifts forward, and his left hand finds yours. Your eyes fall to where your skin meets, they watch as Astarion holds your hand on top of his gently. His own attention is drawn to it, watching carefully as his other hand fidgets with your fingers.

“I thought you were going to die.”

His confession is soft, heartfelt. You might even be able to convince yourself he sounds like he might cry. But when he looks up to meet your eyes again, his crimson eyes are clear of tears. But there is pain there. Pain and torment and that fear. 

“I thought you were going to die and I would… And I would have to live with -” He gestures to himself with his hand that had been fidgeting with your fingers. “This.”

Your eyebrows knit together at his words, but you say nothing. You had long since learned that when Astarion was on the verge of opening up, it was best to let him get the words out on his own. Pressuring him had never gotten you anywhere. Well, except for right now. Every other time it had been entirely fruitless. 

“You have shown a kindness to me that I am unfamiliar with. With Cazador… His version of kindness was letting me eat instead of starving. But it always had a price. Always,” he can’t look at you anymore, instead looking intently at your hand in his. “Your kindness - I am learning - comes freely.”

“You are waiting for the other boot to drop,” You say, understanding what he is trying to tell you without directly saying it. When he nods, you swallow thickly. Words seem to fail you as you search desperately for the right thing to say. But there are no words that feel good enough.

Astarion also seems to be at a loss for words. Carefully, you place your hand not holding his under his chin and tilt his face upwards, so that your eyes meet once more. Your hand slides to cup his cheek, and your heart swells when you feel him press into your touch gently. 

“I am not him.”

Astarion’s eyes close at your words. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything except sit there for a long moment. So long that you think he isn’t going to reply. But then he turns his head, and he kisses the palm of your hand. Then where your hand meets your wrist. Then the inside of your wrist. As he places the third kiss to your skin, you let your hand fall away and watch as he picks it up with his free hand.

He doesn’t say it, but you know he understands. He knows you are not Cazador. And you don’t say it, but he knows you understand. You know he is trying. And neither of you say it, but both of you see those three words swimming in each other’s eyes. But you both know they’re there.

“Thank you,” you say after a long minute. “For not letting me die. Not that I expected you to, but…”

But you knew he wouldn’t have saved you a few weeks ago. 

“I mean it. Thank you.”

The fear in Astarion’s eyes finally melts away and that smirk of his falls onto his lips. But this was not his mask - no, this was his real joy. His real happiness at your not being dead and at being able to let a joke slip past his lips knowing you didn’t expect anything because of it.

“I can think of a few ways you could show that gratitude,” he says suggestively. A smile of your own spreads across your face, despite the color that floods it, too. Weakly, you shove his hands off of yours and roll your eyes at him. “You are welcome. I’ll save you a thousand times over if it means I get to see your smile once more.”

“Oh, don’t get soft on me now,” You say through your grin. But you’d like nothing more. A soft Astarion meant a healed one, a safe one. If that meant you were subjected to a few sappy lines here and there, you wouldn’t mind it.

“Hard to be soft with you around.”

“Astarion,” You hiss, realizing the joke you’ve walked yourself right into. For a second you debate getting off of the table and smacking him over the head, but when you shift your leg just slightly, that dizziness returns and has you gripping the edge of the table. 

Astarion is on his feet within a moment, noticing the change in you as soon as it happens. His hand has returned to your back, steadying you as the room starts to spin again. With your head a little clearer now, you recognize the feeling as similar to what you feel when Astarion drinks from you. With how strongly you’re feeling it… you don’t want to think about how much blood you must have lost.

“Rest. Please,” Astarion says in that soft voice again. And truly, who are you to deny him when he’s being so gentle? You let him coax you onto the table, onto the soft pile of fabrics you hadn’t realized had been under your head until just now. You want to stay conscious, to talk to Astarion more, but as soon as you’ve settled back down, you realize just how tired you are.

When you stir hours later, you’re tucked into your bedroll within your tent. And Astarion is sitting not far from you, reading. You don’t say anything as sleep overtakes you again, but you’re pretty certain you could get used to waking up to the sight of Astarion.

And Astarion’s pretty certain he wouldn’t mind it either.

you can join my taglist by clicking here!!

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #x reader #gn!reader #shadowheart #wyll

[comatosebunny09]

insecurities | astarion a.

summary: “why don’t you like me?” he asks, his voice small amid the symphony of the forest dwellers. you choke on your spittle. how unlike your undead friend to sound so unsure of himself.

The night is quiet.

Most of your companions have retired to their tents. Tending to their weapons, reading, sleeping.

You’re left by the fire, snapping twigs to further kindle it. You smile quietly. The atmospheric pop and fizz bring you comfort as a summery breeze slides in.

You turn away in search of more wood when you hear a weighted sigh, followed by the thunk of the log behind you.

Seems someone’s decided to impede on your party of one.

You spin around to see your favorite vampire sitting opposite you on the log, his features accentuated by the fire. Astarion watches you with a pout on his lips and his brows knit together. You snort, wholly prepared for him to complain about something.

“What’s wrong, sunshine?” you query, squatting and poking around the campfire. “Our lodgings not to your liking? You break a nail? A rat crawl up into your ass?” Your eyes crinkle with mirth. 

Astarion leans back on his hands, one leg crossed over the other. He stares at you with those petulant eyes, studying you for a beat. It’s unlike him to be so serious. Silence stretches between you for a moment longer before he asks, “Why don’t you like me?”

You nearly choke on your spittle. His brazenness floors you. Literally. You plop down on the ground, dusting off your hands, your expression bemused. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come now.” He crosses his arms. Looks off to the side, face screwing up into a scowl. “You haven’t slept with me. You shrug off all my advances. Hells, it feels like you won’t even give me the time of day.”

Another snort. Your tone drips with sarcasm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I had to sleep with someone to show I cared.”

Astarion scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. “Bullshit. Have you seen me? I’m irresistible. The very definition of sex on legs, so I’ve been told. People would kill for a chance at me. And I would’ve bedded you a thousand times over, had you stopped playing hard to get.”

You sigh. Laugh a little disbelievingly, slowly standing. “Astarion—”

“I’m not your type, am I? Do you even have a type? It’s Halsin, isn’t it? That oaf of a druid.”

You caution a few steps around the fire towards him, your hands stretched out placatingly. You’re exasperated. “Astarion, look—”  

“I don’t blame you. I would’ve bedded him, too.”

“Astarion!” 

You’re in front of him now. Bent over, gathering his icy cheeks into your palms. He looks at you with confusion marring his features. You have his attention, nonetheless.  

Your eyes gloss over with wetness. A forlorn smile rounds your lips. Your chest swells with emotion, and you tuck some errant curls behind Astarion’s ear.

“I thought we knew each other better than that.” You swallow before wetting your lips. You look down at the ground, inhaling deeply. Kneel before him, taking up his hands with all the gentleness of the world, your eyes shining with the threat of tears.

“You are more than your body, Astarion. More than some fling. More than a romp in the dirt. I wish you could see that. Sex is nice. Gods, it can be such an incredible thing. But I don’t need it to know I mean something to you. And I don’t need it to show you I adore you.”

Astarion blinks. For a moment, only the two of you exist in this world of chirping crickets and crackling fire. Tenderness flashes across his face before the vampire chuckles softly, patting your hands, squeezing them. His lashes flutter. He’s breathtaking.

“You adore me, do you?” Astarion purrs, his cockiness returning tenfold. “I am rather amazing, aren’t I?” He leans back again to have a look at his nails, radiating smugness.

You snort, standing and wiping your hands on your breeches. “You just had to muck it up, didn’t you?” You can’t help the quirk of your lips as you turn back to tend to the fire.

“Darling. Who would I be if I didn’t?”

“And to think, I was just about to kiss you.”

The indignant sound Astarion releases behind you makes your ribs blossom with pride.

Ah, well. Maybe next time.

masterlist

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fluff #astarion drabble #astarion bg3 #astarion fanfic #my attempt at writing something less detailed #and more dialogue-driven #astarion romance #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion deserves all the love #tw: sex mention #tw: language

[lovrspell]

You're used to it.

He only needs half of the rest you do, so, when you don't share a nap together, Astarion watches you as you sleep — and if you do rest with him, he stirs way before you and ends up doing just that: staring at you. You've grown accustomed to it over time, despite it creeping the fuck out of you at first.

Now, if you happen to open your eyes during the night as you toss and turn, the sight of a pair of glowing red eyes on you doesn't seem to have much of an effect anymore.

Sure, it can be romantic: your vampire elf boyfriend prefers spending precious time he could as well use for other important matters watching you drool and snore.

However, you'll never forget the very first time you caught him doing so.

You could physically feel something wasn't right, even in your slumber. To think that one can simply realize that they're are being observed through their sixth sense seems crazy in itself, but you didn't think that it also applied during sleep — it seemed unlikely. Well, one night, with a turmoil in your heart and a distant and confused feeling that something bad was about to happen, you woke up, flinching, to a rather goosebumps inducing sight.

He looked like a demon. In the diminished light that emanated from the night light on your bedside table, you could catch a glimpse of a concentrated, unmoving serious expression on his face that made him look particularly menacing.

For a moment, you hadn't even recognized him before the outline of curls around his head took on a clearer shape every time you blinked.

“Had a bad dream?” Astarion's voice awakened you from your torpor, sultry and veiled by an affectionate candour, typical of his tone when he speaks to you (even when he teases you).

“...You scared me.”

“I'm just looking at you.”

“Yeah, that's why.”

He chuckled from his nose, leaning closer, and in the bat of an eye he was already on top of you. “I can hear your heart beating.” he murmured, leaning over you and placing a cold, dry kiss on your forehead. “Close your eyes, dear. I promise I'll look away every once in a while.” he sounded amused, which didn't surprise you. It was like he was waiting for you to wake up on purpose to play with you a little and entertain himself in your waking presence, even if only for a few minutes.

Your mind was still a haze as you blinked, trying to adjust your vision to the dark further, but your mind didn't let you fight against that dizzy feeling for long as Astarion's lips trailed kisses down your neck, his cold hands gently tracing your sides.

Sometimes, as dawn breaks and an impatient boredom grips him, Astarion's eagerness to stir action, particularly if it involves teasing you, prompts him to awaken you in his unique way: gentle squeezes of your waist and shoulders, tiny wet kisses, low calls of your name...

Until you do wake up, mumble a few intelligible words (probably along the lines of ‘I was fucking sleeping’) and he'd just be happy that you're awake.

He can't help it: he gets needy for you attention, at times.

#got inspired by a post by @thechaoticdruid for this! #bg3 #astarion #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x fem reader #astarion x male reader #astarion x gender neutral reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x you #astarion fluff

[a-case-of-attachment]

A continuation of this.

Astarion was relentless in his need to get you away from Gale’s wandering lips and pathetically sad and hopeful kicked puppy attitude, silently seething as he dragged you along behind him. His grip was tight on your arm, probably too tight if he was being honest but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of you. He knew he was being foolish, but Astarion couldn’t help but feel that if he let you go you would be gone, running back to Gale like a moth to a flame.

You had looked so happy sat there with Gale, all bright smiles and casual affection like it was nothing to open yourself up to another. Had it been that easy for you to be like that with Astarion? He could recall your smiles, your gentle laughter along with the teasing and somewhat sarcastic back and forth you two had going. It had felt easy at the time, but had it actually been so or were his memories tainted by his own need for you to want something from him?

Astarion knew he could be charming and sweet. After all, those were the traits that had made him such an effective seducer, but he also knew that he could be difficult sometimes, rude and a little shut off from others even when honesty would serve him better. He was selfish, there was no denying that, but he was also cold and calculating, often working out how best to use someone to his advantage before using his charm and tempting smiles to get what he wanted. Astarion was trying with you though. Trying to be a better person and letting you in closer than he had anyone else in the better part of two centuries. But was it enough?

He hated the fact that blasted wizard was getting to him, but Astarion couldn’t stop himself from beginning to question why you had stayed by his side for so long. Gale wouldn’t hide himself from you like Astarion had. He wouldn’t deny you any part of himself whilst trying to cover it up with pretty lies and sugar-coated words. Everything about Astarion was a performance, designed to misdirect and mislead the audience. He didn’t want people looking to closely, didn’t want the attention the truth got him. The sad reality was he simply didn’t trust people, couldn’t trust people, not after everything he had been through and he wasn’t about to show weakness to just anyone when he needed to be strong and untouchable to survive. You were infuriatingly different though. You did care, Astarion was sure of it and if there was anyone, he was going to let see him at his most vulnerable then, well, it could only ever be you. So why did he feel so hollow all of a sudden? Like he had already lost you before he had the chance to really have you in the first place.

The trees and undergrowth suddenly gave way and Astarion stumbled slightly as he stepped out unexpectedly into a clearing. It’s not that big, probably smaller than the average tavern and if he was so inclined Astarion could probably make it to the other side with a few long strides. It is unassumingly quaint though, the gaps in the otherwise thick canopy allowing the silvery moonlight to give the small space an almost otherworldly glow. In any other circumstance it would be disgustingly romantic, somewhere Astarion would have whisked you off to to whisper sweet nothings in your ear whilst making your body singing under his skilled touch. Not tonight though. Tonight he couldn’t care less, taking a few seconds to gain his bearings before he took a sure step forward, intent on getting you across to the other side and as far away from Gale as he could. You apparently, had other ideas though.

“Enough!” you shouted suddenly, digging in your heels and yanking your arm from his grip. Astarion let you go, coming to a standstill at the edge of the clearing and looking back at you with thinly veiled impatience. You glared back, fists clenched at your sides and shoulders noticeably tensed. “What in the hells was that Astarion!” In a nearby tree birds took flight, frightened away from their nests by your angry yell. Astarion flinched slightly, shame settling uncomfortably in his chest. There was a possibility, and a small one at that, that he might have overreacted, but could you really blame him? Gale had overstepped yet again, and you had just looked at the walking bomb like the idiot you were, all lost and confused like you couldn’t possibly fathom someone was actually interested in you in such a way.

Astarion had every right to whisk you off. Had every right to be angry and jealous too, but that didn’t mean he liked it. He hated being forced to feel all these emotions that he had stamped down for so long, unaccustomed to anything but pain and desperation. It left him feeling exposed and raw in a way he wasn’t used to. Unfortunately, when he was feeling cornered and out of his depth Astarion had a bad habit of lashing out at people, uncaring as he spat honey covered poison in an attempt to regain control of something he probably never would.

He hated himself for it, even as he practically leered at you, his lips curling up into a smirk. “Come now darling, I was doing us all a favour,” Astarion laughed, waving his hand dismissively in the air. “It was starting to get a little sad.” Your breath caught, Astarion able to hear your heartbeat pick up ever so slightly. It had been the wrong thing to say but it had come so naturally, to be dismissive and cruel when it came to the feelings of others. Especially now when his own emotions were getting the better of him, uncertainty and doubt mixing with anger and jealousy. “Honestly, for a man who claims to be so smart he can be rather dense.”

Your eyes narrowed; arms now crossed over your chest and very clearly unimpressed with his cruel words towards the wizard. “You done?” Astarion’s smirk fell slightly at your sharp tone, his centuries worth of skill faltering when faced with the rather real possibility that he was ruining the only good relationship he had ever had. Fear crept in, Astarion unable to stop his intrusive thoughts from taking over his already compromised mind. He had been afraid of losing things before, things like his freedom, his food, his life. Never before though had he been so scared of losing another person before. He didn’t like it, the panic making his throat feel tight and his hands twitch in some sort of aborted need to touch you. To wrap his arms around you and pull you tight against him, refusing to let you go ever again.

Astarion swallowed noticeably, trying to force the lump that was forming in his throat down. Scoffing, he adjusted his stance, making sure he looked as casual and unbothered by all this as he could. “I don’t know what you are talking about darling. All I did was save you from having to suffer through Gale’s rather pitiful attempts of seduction.” They really had been atrocious, awkward to, like the man didn’t have a suave bone in his body. You hadn’t needed to be subjected to that and lucky enough for you Astarion had been there to chase the cretin off. Unless, of course, you hadn’t wanted the wizard gone.

“Astarion,” your voice was thick with warning, the muscles in your jaw visible twitching as you clenched your teeth. Foolishly though, Astarion didn’t listen. He was on a roll, his anger and jealousy in full force as he let his emotions taint his words. “But if you’re into tragic little magicians who are already hopelessly in love with a goddess then please, accept my sincerest apology for disturbing you.”

“Astarion.”

“Though if you are planning on slipping into his bedroll tonight might I suggest you get him to cast a silencing spell beforehand. I doubt any of us want to hear him grunting like a stuck pig. Oh, and maybe get yourself a healing balm. I would imagine that beard of his would leave an awful rash between your le…”

“That’s enough!”

Astarion’s mouth snapped shut at your angry outburst. He wouldn’t be surprised if they had heard you back at camp, having shouted loud enough to cut through his rude and somewhat crude words. You looked so angry, shoulders tenses and hands curled into fists at your sides. He had seen you angry before, all righteous fury on the battlefield and smouldering hatred when pretending amongst the absolute. You had never been angry at him before though. Annoyed and suspicious yes but never angry, not even when you had awoken to him hovering over you, mouth open wide and fangs glistening as he practically salivated over how perfect you would taste on his tongue. He hadn’t thought it possible for you to look at him in such a way, but it seemed he had been mistaken because there you were, eyes dark and dangerous as you watched him intently, waiting for him to do or say something but for once Astarion found himself at a loss, his quick wit and sharp tongue failing him spectacularly.

You sighed loudly when it became clear that he wouldn’t be the first to break the tense silence, your shoulders slumping and the stench of pain and disappointment thickening in the air. “Look, I don’t know why you’re being like this or what you think you're going to accomplish here but I can’t do this with you anymore.” You sounded tired, heartbroken even and Astarion felt his own chest tighten in response. Some part of him had known it was coming, that things had been too good to be true, but it still hurt none the less. Even more so knowing that he only had himself to blame, but who had he been trying to fool? Someone like you was never going to find their happy ever after with the likes of him. After all he was just a broken and twisted monster with nothing to his name apart from the trail of pain and suffering he had left behind him. He had been delusional to think this thing between you could be anything more than the tentative and somewhat convenient friendship you had allowed it to be.

“Well,” he said stupidly, not really knowing what to say, “best I not keep you then.” Astarion stepped back slightly, angling his body to create a space for you to slip through and make your way back to camp and most likely right back into Gale’s open arms. Shame and rejection burned heavy in his heart, so much so that Astarion couldn’t bear to even look at you. He turned his head to the side, his eyes slipping closed as he waited for you to move past him. He heard you sigh, the rustle of fabric as you moved and the slight crunch of grass under your booted feet as you slowly made your way towards him.

He felt so alone, a pathetic and useless mess of a man as he let you slip through his fingers like grains of sand. It had been so easy to begin with, all charming smiles and flowery compliments that had you practically glowing under his attention. It had all been an act then, a means to an end that was supposed to keep him safe and protected within your close circle of confidants and friends. He had planned it all out but the one thing he hadn’t taken into consideration was, well, you and now he was left with nothing to show for his efforts other than a few tainted memories and the knowledge that he had been the one to drive you away into the arms of another man. He truly was incapable of doing anything right, just like Cazador had always said he was. A beautiful idiot.

A gentle hand cupped his cheek and Astarion startled, his head whipping round as his hand shot out to curl around your wrist, preventing you from moving it away or any closer. You were smiling softly at him but there was nothing happy about it, the sadness crystal clear in your eyes. Astarion could taste your unshed tears, see them clinging to your eyelashes. He wanted to reach out, to gently run his thumbs under your eyes and wipe away the tears as he whispered his apology, but he had never been good at admitting he had been wrong or even saying he was sorry. He hated that you were looking at him like he had broken you but despite how badly he wanted to take it all back the words wouldn’t come. So instead, the two of you just stood there, staring at one another and waiting for someone to do or say something to break the silence that felt like it was going to suffocate him.

Your shoulders slump, the sad little smile you had been supporting slipping into a frown. He can see it in your eyes, see you searching for the right thing to say and Astarion wants nothing more than to run before you get the chance to break his heart before you had even known it was yours to shatter. He’s moving your hand back towards you and already stepping away when he stills, your words nothing but a whisper but they seemed like a shout to him. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t think he would be able to keep the confusion off his face even if he had tried.

He doesn’t understand. Are you apologising for ending things between the two of you? Not that either of you had actually put a name to what the two of you were doing. Maybe you were apologising for turning your fondness towards Gale? It hurt, more than Astarion would ever admit to, but he had expected something like this to happen, waiting for the moment you got bored of the pretty little elf and moved on. That’s all he was. Something to pass the time with that looked good both in and out of his clothes and knew how to leave their partner satisfied. No one has ever given him an apology before, not that he can remember anyway, and he doesn’t know what to do with one now that you had whispered it so sweetly to him. Astarion doesn’t understand you or this entire situation and it frustrates him to no end because how is he supposed to react in a way that will please you if he has no clue what you are even trying to do here?

His grip on your wrist had gone lose whilst he panicked externally and without him keeping you at bay you easily put your hand back on his cheek. Your warm, so much warmer than him and it feels so much like being bathed in sunlight to feel you against him. Despite knowing better Astarion can’t help but turn into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he basked in your sunlight. What was the harm in enjoying this for just a second longer? Astarion was a selfish creature at heart, and you would be gone soon enough, so why not? Why not take this one thing for himself. Just this once. Just this.

“Astarion.” He doesn’t want to look at you. To look at you would be to acknowledge that this confusing and all consuming thing between the two of you was over. He doesn’t want that. Wants to hold onto you for just that little bit longer. You are insistent though, using your hand on his cheek to turn his head towards you and no matter how much he wishes to prolong this moment Astarion knows that isn’t his choice to make. So he looks, opening his eyes and meeting yours, waiting for you to throw him away just like everyone else had.

@mangomonk @skittleabyss @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @atsv-obsession @duckyhowls @tamwritesstuff @unrestrictedbyreality @dinstailor @vhaldren @ammistorm @aoirohi

I think that’s everyone! Please do let me know if I have missed anyone though and if you want to be tagged in the third and final part!

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #tav #baldurs gate tav #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale x you #gn reader #gend #jealous astarion #jealous gale #jealousy #self insert #sad astarion

[mistiell]

Ok so, maybe you knew this already or maybe not, but... In the game, if you hover over Astarion's original outfit it says that it looks rather old and mended over several times. The running theory is that he's been reparing his own clothes (explains the cheeky embroidery in his underwear) , since we damn well know that Cazador would not give two hoots about it, and that poor baby has been running around in a 200 year old shirt and probably doesn't have much clothes with him. I just want something fluffy... maybe the reader always let's him have first dibs on whatever they find or even gets him new clothes. I just imagine him finding a brand new shirt on his tent that is soft and comfortable and I just want to weep in a corner 🥺

Can you help a sister out?

Here you are <33 (also, I'm so sorry this took so long lol) WC: 1.3k Also CW for potential spoilers

---

Astarion is slow to wake this morning, fully intending to lay with you in his tent as long as you’ll allow. Rolling over with his eyes still closed, he reaches to hook his arm around your waist only to grasp at nothing but air.

He’s certainly awake now.

It’s unusual to find you missing given he’s usually the first to wake between the two of you; two hundred years of living in The Underdark and only ever surfacing at night having apparently made him a little sensitive to light.

Sitting up and shifting onto his knees, he reaches to pull the tent flap back and peer out at the campfire. A small gust of the cool morning air sweeps over his bare torso, raising goosebumps over the skin of his arms despite the fact that he’s not really bothered by the cold. That little spike of anxiety dulls when he finds you haven’t strayed far; standing maybe fifteen feet away in conversation with Karlach.

As if you can sense him, you glance over and light up when you spot him peeking out of the tent, excusing yourself from the tiefling. He expects you to come straight over, but instead, you turn to grab a basket he hadn’t seen first.

He shuffles back to let you come inside, flushing a bit when you brush a few rogue curls from his face and bend to peck his hairline, “Good morning, handsome.”

“I- Good morning.” Is all he manages, still tired and a little stunned. Shifting off of his knees to sit cross-legged, he peers into the basket as you set it down in front of him and cocks a brow, “What’s this?”

“Clothes.”

“Well yes, I can see that, darling.” He sasses and you chortle, “But why have you brought me a basket of clothes?”

“I found it the last time we left camp.” He remembers that. You’d gone out with Karlach, Gale and Lae’zel and came back bloodied and bruised. He’d been so focused on getting you patched up that he hadn’t even thought of asking about what you might have found.

You clear your throat and glance away, smiling sheepishly, “I picked out some things I thought you’d like, but then I thought you might prefer to have a look through yourself, so,” You shrug and jerk your nose at the basket, “I brought you all of it.”

His heart would be stuttering in his chest if it could. Reaching into the pile, he thumbs over a few of the garments, feeling the different fabrics and looking over all the different colours. It’s been centuries since he’s had a choice in what to wear. Sure, he’s picked up some things throughout your travels but never so much all at once. It’s a little overwhelming, having all this to pick through after so long.

Taking hold of the basket, he pushes it closer to you, “Show me what you picked out first.”

“Oh,” Your heart rate spikes, and he smiles as you stutter out, “Are- Are you sure? I’m not sure you’d actually like what I picked out. That’s one of the reasons I brought you the whole basket.”

He scoffs and waves off the thought, “Nonsense. You could hand me the most distasteful outfit in all of Faerûn and I’d at least try it on for you.”

“Really?” “Of course I would.” He realises the implications of what he’s just said and tries to play off the sentiment with a puckish grin, gesturing towards himself, “It’s hard to not look good in something when you’re this beautiful.”

You laugh, eyes squinting shut with the force of your smile. “Yes, you truly are dashing, my love.”

“Stating the obvious, but I can’t complain,” You roll your eyes at him as he taps the sides of the basket, “Now, are you going to show me what you picked out? Or are you just going to sit here sing my praises? Personally, I’d be fine either way.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll get on with it,” Reaching into the clothes, your laughter tapers off as you glance back up at him timidly one last time, “But if you don’t like something, tell me, okay?”

He lays his palm flat against his sternum, all dramatics as he grins, “Cross my heart and hope to,” He pauses, before chuckling, “Well, die again, I suppose.”

He laughs when you shoot him a glare with no real malice behind it and tut disapprovingly.

He watches in quiet curiosity as you pull out a few items, explaining why you thought he’d like them as you go. Your reasons range from colours and patterns to embroidery and necklines, all of which are shockingly on par with his tastes. It appears you know him better than he thought you did.

“That’s about it, I think.” Your brows furrow in a way that is entirely too cute – especially for someone he’s watched eviscerate hoards of goblins – before you perk up with an excited gasp, “Oh! I almost forgot!”

Turning to look this way and that, you make a little sound of satisfaction when your gaze lands on your pack. Your shirt rides up a bit when you twist onto your knees to reach for it, and he stifles the urge to run his hand over the sliver skin it exposes. You rummage through a few pockets before finding what you’re looking for, returning to kneel in front of him with something hidden in your hand.

“Close your eyes.” You urge, and he does as you’ve asked.

“Ooh, saved the best for last, have you?” He grins, holding out his hands before you even ask.

You chuckle, sounding a little nervous, “Hopefully.”

He hears the tinkling of metal and nearly jumps when your hand makes contact with his, one cradling the backs of his while the other presses something small and rough into his palm.

“Open.” He can hear the smile in your voice as you say it.

On your command, he opens his eyes to find you’ve given him a necklace. The pendent is a little piece of a raw, orange crystal encircled by dainty gold rods that are bent to resemble branches.

“This is... beautiful.” He breathes, turning it over in his hand to admire the jagged edges, “What kind of crystal is it?”

“Sunstone.” He looks up at you then, finding a shy smile hung on your lips, “I know it’s a little on the nose but...,” You worry your bottom lip for a moment, clearly a little hesitant to continue, “I know you’re worried about... what’ll happen once the tadpoles are removed. So, I wanted to get you something just in case. It’s not the same thing, obviously, but I thought this way you can still figuratively have a little piece of the sun if,” Cutting yourself off, you glance away for a moment, “Well, if things don’t go the way we hope.”

He stares at you for a long moment, entirely unsure of what to say. He doesn’t think there’s anything he could say to convey just how much the gesture means to him.

Setting the necklace on his pillow, he draws you into his arms and weaves them tight around your waist. He pulls you to him so suddenly that your knees bump his shins, but you don’t seem to mind as you hook your arms around the back of his neck. His eyes burn as he murmurs against the side of your neck, “I love you.”

You card your fingers through his hair and he shudders, leaning further into you as you dot a few sweet kisses along the length of his shoulder.

“I love you too.” Your words are muddled as they’re mumbled into his skin, “More than you know.”

Maybe he didn’t before, but he thinks he has an idea now. You love him enough that you gave him his own little chunk of the sun. Even if things don’t pan out they way he hopes they will, he doesn’t think he’ll need the necklace – however pretty it may be.

He’s already got his bit of the sun wrapped up tight in his arms.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion bg3 #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x gn reader #bg3