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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

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Batstarion Headcanons

Non-Ascended version

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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

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just-a-toy-kid · 2 years

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"Burn, foul universe, Burn!!" It's Gorgax week on the Galaxxor Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/galaxxor @galaxxor @onelldesign #galaxxor #patreon #glyos #toyphotography #fivepointfive #arttoy #gorgax #spacebarbarians https://www.instagram.com/p/CdEg1Qzu6va/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#galaxxor #patreon #glyos #toyphotography #fivepointfive #arttoy #gorgax #spacebarbarians

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razcity · 2 years

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Todays sketch. A little Sunday doodle. #draw #drawing #drawdaily #dailydraw #sketch #sketching #sketchbook #sketchdaily #sketchdrawing #dailysketch #monster #creature #astrogirl #spacewoman #inkdrawing #inksketch #barbarian #conan #spaceman #astro #space #spacebarbarian #swordandsorcery #scifi https://www.instagram.com/p/CecXE5Au61R/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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knight-fanscott-gaming-blog · 7 years

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RT @Stargamer_space: Next Sector Or DEATH 10: Interdicted #EVERSPACE #XBOX #XBOXONE #Beam #NSOD https://t.co/TyltyY9bq0

Next Sector Or DEATH 10: Interdicted #EVERSPACE #XBOX #XBOXONE #Beam #NSOD https://t.co/TyltyY9bq0

— ♏️SpaceBarbarian♏️ (@Stargamer_space) May 22, 2017

from Twitter https://twitter.com/fanscott1234 May 22, 2017 at 11:47AM via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Twitter

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joshmcaleartattoo · 6 years

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Available as a tattoo, message me if you’re interested. @heavymetal . . . #warrior #barbarian #spacewoman #woman #womantattoo #warriorwoman #spacebarbarian #jackkirby #hawkwind (at Ghost in the Machine Tattoo)

#spacebarbarian #barbarian #spacewoman #hawkwind #womantattoo #jackkirby #warriorwoman #warrior #woman

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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

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Astarion x f!Tav pregnancy headcanons

@treshmind @chillingintheunderdark @azu21 @rachelle-on-the-run

Masterlist

Headcanons

Ok, it turned out to be much longer than I expected. And very angsty

None of you have any idea it was possible to get pregnant

Astarion is a vampire. He definitely "shoots blanks."

The ability to knock someone up was taken away from him along with his life many years ago.

Until one day, you feel weird. Sick, exhausted.

It's not like you pay too much attention to your monthly bleeding (what's the point anyway?"), but you notice it's been a while

And Astarion, after feeding on you, says your blood tastes different. Not bad, not weird. Just different.

And the scent isn't like it was before.

You are terrified you've caught one of these magical sicknesses or curses no one knows how to cure.

You go to the healer, who gives you a herbal drink, saying, "Take this; it's good for the child, and don't bother me until you feel something is off."

And you stay in the healer's hut, shocked, trying to understand what kind of child he is fucking talking about?

Until you realize.

You remember the night half a month ago, when a group of thugs attacked the village where you and Astarion live together.

Astarion returned from the woods drunk with sentient creatures' blood, his eyes glowing red and his skin blazing hot.

He just swept you away from your feet, dragged inside, stripped you of your light armor, and pinned you to the bed until the next sunset.

It was not the first time he was that "blood drunk," - but it was the first time it happened one of the days you could possibly conceive.

It's just a coincidence. The coincidence you carry inside your womb.

You return home, scared and shivering. By the time Astarion notices you are back, you are already crying.

You have no fucking idea how to be a mother. You have no fucking idea how to raise a child. What are you carrying within?

A person? A monstrosity? Your own death?

What creatures are born from vampires?

Astarion is no less shocked.

He pulls away from you, grabbing a fistful of his hair, and swears in Elven.

The healer may be wrong. You can't get pregnant.

And now you feel even more uneasy - what if you were assaulted?Do you have any memory gaps? What if someone used you?

Astarion leaves at sunset, and you stay alone with your fears

He returns in the morning, calm and quiet. Noticing you are still on your feet, he carries you to bed and asks to sleep while he "figures something out."

When you wake up in the late evening, Astarion has a sudden mood change

He is happy. He smiles. He pulls you to himself, placing a hand on your flat belly.

Then you notice a stack of books.

Dhampirs. Children of mortals and vampires. With insanely long lifespans, immunity for vampirism, and living beating hearts.

"You see. That's what we are going to have".

You slowly start adapting to your new condition,

The child grows fast, and your body changes. Breasts get a bit bigger, and you can't wear your light armor anymore (it is suddenly too small). You are constantly tired and hungry.

Even the most innocent teases from Astarion make you cry - and he panics every time it happens.

He has no idea how to handle a pregnant woman.

You quarrel. Constantly. Because you are both scared to death.

What is worse, Astarion has a serious regress. There are nightmares and self-harm tendencies. He runs away to the woods or the Underdark tunnels at least once a week, and you lash at him for leaving you alone every time he gets back.

Besides, it's his fault he didn't stop drinking blood that night

You have nightmares, too.

You envision a monster growing within you that will gnaw through your flesh any time soon.

And yes, women die in childbirth. Even if before that, they'd challenged the fucking gods!

One day, Astarion puts his head on your belly

He caresses it and whispers something in Elven.

"I hear the heartbeat," he says, eyes teary. "I hear our child's heartbeat!"

From that moment, everything changes,

He no longer goes away. He helps you bathe and dress. Brings everything you ask for and ensure you are comfortable sitting and walking. He prepares the place for the child (ignoring a very rational fear that either you or the child dies)

And he sews. He makes the set of clothes for the newborn, embroidering it with protective Elven runes.

Sometimes you both relax enough to discuss the future.

The day of birth comes much earlier than you expect. Almost a month earlier.

The midwife, perfectly knowing the father's nature, pushed Astarion out of the room.

And he spends a few hours helpless and desperate, hearing your cries of pain. If it was the night, he could at least go outside, but, as it happens, it's a sunny day.

He hates himself for doing this to you.

And as for you, you had no idea it could be so painful.

Finally, Astarion has enough and returns to you, kneeling beside the bed

The moment you see him, you grasp his hand as if you are drowning

And then it's all over.

A squeal, desperate and angry, rings out through the room, and you see a newborn in the midwife's hands.

A tiny girl with long pointy ears is placed in your hands. Not a monster. She isn't deformed. Just a baby. Who is very angry with the fact she's been pushed out from the warm womb to this cruel and unpredictable world.

Astarion can't believe what exactly he sees.

He has a child. He has a daughter. The most normal thing anyone can think of is now a reality for him, someone who once had to get out of his own grave.

Then you give the newborn girl to Astarion, and the moment he takes her, he bursts into tears, pressing the child against his chest.

The girl doesn't cry anymore, piercing Astarion with her dark eyes.

You, still tired and in pain, drink the healing potion left by the midwife and you look up at Astarion.

He notices your gaze and kisses you.

"My love, thank you. This is a gift", he whispers through the tears.

Tag list:

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

#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 #dadstarion #astarion being a dad #tav x astarion #spacebarbarian headcanon

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spacebarbarianweird · 6 months

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The Scorching Sun

My desperate attempt to redeem the ending scene

Astarion is running away from the sunlight once the tadpole is gone, and Tav is nowhere to be seen.

Tags: hurt/comfort

Read on AO3

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Headcanons

The excruciating pain pierces Astarion as his skin starts burning.

The sun's searing rays cause agony from which there is no respite. The tadpole's grip finally releases him. Still, as it does, it leaves behind a gaping void, one filled with a mind that races with panic and anxiety, amplifying the horrors that lie ahead.

Astarion is scared. He has never felt so frightened in his life. Not when he awoke in his coffin two centuries ago, dying of hunger and pain. Not when Cazador put him through horrors and torments. Not when he was sealed in the tomb for an entire year. Not when he thought Tav was dying.

Because now he is burning alive.

Astarion desperately looks at his companions seeking support, but instead, he sees disgust on their faces as if without tadpoles they suddenly realize Astarion is a vampire.

He hears a chuckle, probably from Gale, that "Now our friend has to return to shadows" and another voice, "Seems like we won't see him again soon."

Once trusted friends now cruelly mock him, their laughter an eerie cacophony that reverberates in the depths of Astarion's consciousness. Each word stabs his undead heart.

You are nowhere to be seen. You are absent when he needs you the most.

Astarion runs toward the huge crates at the pier, which cast a comforting shadow. Astarion stumbles – he can't see anything; the sun has burnt his eyes. By touch, he finally gets to the shadows, curls up in the corner, and presses his legs to the chest.

Eyesight finally recovers. Astarion hears distant voices – someone laughs, someone cheers. He is jealous. Why can't he be there, with them, in the sunlight? Didn't he suffer too much? Didn't he fight the Brain with the rest? Why, why?

Tears stream down his cheeks. Tears of pain, tears of desperation, resentment, injustice.

Betrayal.

As the sun slowly rises, a merciful shadow retreats, and a harsh ray of light burns Astarion's right leg. The once-safe haven has become dangerous, and despair compels Astarion to seek refuge in the nearest house. The sun continues to scorch him, subjecting him to wave after wave of searing pain.

However, an invisible barrier obstructs his path, granting entry only upon invitation, offering no respite for the vampire. Astarion is left to writhe in the agony of the daylight.

He must go to the Inn. The vampire's invitation is forever, but the city lies in ruins, with only fleeting shadows left. Baldurians cheer, praising the gods for saving them from unimaginable horrors. Amidst the joy and light, Astarion feels like crying, for he knows he doesn't belong here. Life, light, and happiness are not for him; he remains a creature of the night, a monster. His foolish hope for anything else has faded away.

At last, he reaches the Inn. Astarion pushes the door open and collapses on his knees, palms pressed into the wooden floor. The pain clings to his body like acid sweat. The tavern is empty, and Astarion manages to stumble upstairs, each step feeling like an eternity. Even the cruelest tortures in Cazador's mansion did not leave him feeling so helpless and weak.

Finally, he crawls into the room he once shared with you and collapses onto the bed. The dark room envelops Astarion like a lover, providing a shred of safety. The echoes of his former companions' laughter still torment the vampire like cruel ghosts from the past.

In desperation, Astarion questions if he heard your voice. Were your promises of love empty words? Could you no longer want him, and the tadpole was the sole reason for your affection? These tormenting thoughts whirl in his mind, threatening to drown him as hunger and pain draw him closer to the abyss.

The hunger is insatiable, gut-wrenching. The tadpole had once dulled it like a medicine. Now, it is back, threatening to turn Astarion into a feral, mindless monster.

Astarion clenches his fingers, trying to grasp the reality: he is alive, his master is dead, and he is free. But it all means nothing.

Hours pass, and Astarion attempts to enter a trance to escape the agony, but his sunburnt body refuses to cooperate. He longs for respite, for a brief escape from reality, but the pain and dark thoughts overwhelm him.

Yes, he did hear your voice in that laughter, and he envisions an evil grin on your face. Perhaps you despise him and have moved on to someone else. Silent tears stream down his face, bearing witness to the profound betrayal he feels from those he once trusted and loved and to the unending nightmare of his existence.

Then, he hears footsteps. The door swings open.

"Astarion! I should have known you were heading here," you exclaim as you sit on the bed and take his hand.

Astarion looks at you in disbelief. Your face, your voice, your scent. You are back. He wants to grab you, to press his face against your collarbone. But he is so weak he can't move.

"Does it hurt?" you ask. Astarion nods, and you press your lips to his knuckles.

"I'm so sorry. I fainted when the tadpole was removed. When I woke up, they told me you had run away, and I've been trying to find you ever since. Hey, look at me," you gently caress his cheek. "I am here. I'm not going anywhere."

Astarion finally manages to look into your eyes. He sees the same love, care, kind smile, hope, and support he thought he had lost.

"I thought… I thought you were never coming back," he whispers.

"Well, if you had run even further, I would have lost you forever," you say.

The tears prickle his eyes once again. How could he have ever doubted you? What kind of person was he to assume that his lover would betray him?

"You didn't answer if it hurts."

"Like a hellplane," he replies.

"I am so sorry. I truly am."

Astarion finally manages to lift his hands and he presses you against his chest. You roll over and lie beside him, putting your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his right hand around you as you place your hand on his stomach.

There are so many things he wants to say to you but simply can't.

"What are we going to do next?" you ask.

He shrugs. "I don't know. What do you want?"

"Anything that doesn't involve staying in this city. We could settle somewhere…"

"It would be tediously boring," Astarion interjects.

"Agreed. We'll always have time for that. Maybe we should go to the Underdark to help other spawns."

He strokes your hair. "I'm not taking a living person to a den of seven thousand vampires, that's for sure."

Astarion presses you tighter, wanting to feel your heartbeat. Then, a realization washes over him: he is no longer in pain. His skin doesn't burn, and his muscles aren't being torn apart. Your presence alone alleviates his suffering. He kisses your forehead and responds with a smile.

"What do you think about getting away? Traveling with me and seeing the world?" you finally propose.

"Darling, I thought you'd never suggest it. I'm sick of this place."

"And we can find a cure for you. There are probably ways to allow you to walk in the sun or even reverse your vampirism. This world is full of cruel wonders, so why not give it a try?"

He nods and gazes at your face as if trying to memorize every little detail.

"I'm not going anywhere, Astarion," you smile. "Stop looking at me as if I'm going to disappear." You sit up and ask, "Can I kiss you?"

"Only if you promise me something," Astarion counters.

"What is it?"

"Stop asking for permission to touch or kiss me."

"You sure?" you hesitate.

"Yes. Stop treating me as if I'm made of glass. It's you. Your touches can never be unwelcome."

You giggle and kiss him. At that moment, you are the two happiest people in the world.

You both lay in each other's arms until sunset. When night falls, you leave the city walls and enter the wilderness. You continue forward, holding hands as if afraid to lose each other. Astarion's undead heart rejoices. He has everything a man needs.

Freedom.

A woman he loves, who loves him in return.

A future.

He would be a fool to exchange all this for false promises of power.

Suddenly, you stop, wrap your hands around his neck, and press your lips against his. Then, you proceed to kiss his cheeks, his forehead, and everything you can reach while standing on the ground.

He flinches for a second but then hugs you back and tightens his grip.

"Never ask for permission," he whispers into your ear. "You are always invited."

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion fics #astarion ending #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #spacebarbarian fics

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spacebarbarianweird · 7 months

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Astarion x f!reader. We Shall Meet Again

Read on AO3

Astarion and Tav are talking about life and death and end up talking about children tags: fluff, comfort, conversation about death and mortality Astarion mentions he wants to step into the sunlight once Tav dies so consider it a trigger warning Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

"Please, Astarion, I can walk on my own!" You try to free yourself, but the vampire drags you on his shoulders like a lifeless sack.

"No, you can't," he replies.

You let out a sigh of frustration. If only Astarion could see your expression, he would witness your disappointment.

The task seemed simple enough. The villagers promised a reward for getting rid of a troublesome troll. It should have been a routine quest for a pair of seasoned adventurers like you. And it had been until the troll hurled you against a tree. Astarion swiftly dealt with the monster, then hoisted you onto his shoulders, and now the two of you were making your way back to the village to get the reward.

"Please, just put me down," you implore.

"Your leg is broken," Astarion insists.

"No, it's not!" You let out a cry of pain as he touches the injured limb. "Fine, you win!"

Astarion chuckles softly as you continue to observe the grass and flowers below. Eventually, the fatigue overtakes you, causing you to black out. When you open your eyes again, you find yourself back in the village.

"We've agreed on five golden coins! Take your reward and go!"

"Yes, but my wife broke her leg, and now I must pay the healer," Astarion argues with a rogue smile. "Eight golden coins."

"Six! We haven't paid the tithe yet!"

"Seven. And your village healer cures her for free."

"Fine! But I don't want to see either of you ever again!"

"It can be arranged!"

The village chief throws a sack of gold to Astarion, and the vampire performs a theatrical bow as if on a stage. Then, he approaches you and gently kisses your forehead, his lips curving into a grin, though a hint of concern lingers in his crimson eyes.

"Don't worry, I'm too young to die just yet," you say as you caress his left cheek, and he closes his eyes, savoring the touch like a content cat.

"I know, but when that thing threw you at the tree, I thought for a second," he stumbles, his voice tinged with worry. "I thought you wouldn't get up."

You remember the wave of pain, the buzz in your ears, and Astarion kneeling beside you, carefully letting you drink a healing potion. He held you gently, his worry palpable as he waited for the potion to mend at least some damage.

He worries sick every time you get hurt. So do you - Astarion doesn't take physical damage easily.

The healer finally arrives, visibly annoyed that he was woken up in the middle of the night. He casts a spell on your leg, and you hear a gruesome sound as the bones fuse back together.

"You could at least be grateful for slaying that troll," you mutter.

The healer lets out a string of curses and leaves.

"Well, I think it's best if we find a spot to make camp before the sunrise," Astarion says.

"I don't think it would be safe to stay in the village anyway. They might start suspecting you're a vampire," you reply as the houses fade into the distance.

"Ungrateful lot," he chuckles.

You take his hand, and you together go into the night. It's been five years since you met at the shipwreck, five years since your unlikely union evolved into something deeper. You haven't grown tired of each other; if anything, you've grown closer, and you can't imagine spending a single night without Astarion by your side.

You are not even sure if you can fall asleep without him cuddling you.

You affectionately refer to each other as "wife" and "husband," even though there was no formal ceremony. One day, Astarion slipped a ring he'd found in a dungeon onto your finger, and you did the same after obtaining a similar one. It was as simple as that.

… The two of you stop and set up a tent as the skies lighten. The tent is crafted from thick, black material and reinforced with a darkness spell - a perfect daylight shelter for a vampire.

You've grown accustomed to the routine. At sunrise, you both go to sleep. When you wake up well past noon, Astarion stays inside, engrossed in the books you've collected on your adventures, while you head out to hunt. But sometimes, you keep the vampire company as he reads aloud.

And once the sun sets, you hit the road again. Both of you share the desire to see the world, and you want to see it together.

Exhausted from a long day of walking and the battle with the troll, you immediately fall asleep. When you wake up, you see Astarion sitting beside you, reading one of his books. The rain is pounding the tent and you feel the cold.

"Good morning," you whisper, and he runs his gentle fingers through your hair. His crimson eyes are brimming with love, but you detect an underlying unease in him.

You've always respected his privacy, but you can't help but notice his recent unease.

"Is everything all right? Do you want to talk?" You sit up, peering at the small entrance tent, shivering.

"It seems I can't keep any secrets from you," he sighs in relief. "I just… got scared yesterday. When that thing threw you. When you fell. Damn, you looked like a ragdoll! Then the troll tried to pick you up to smash you again. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to save you. That you would die."

You say nothing, resting your head on his shoulder and listening to his steady breathing.

"That's stupid. You're here. Everything is great," he says.

You sense that he doesn't honestly believe it. Mortality. Your mortality is what's troubling him. He's undead, immortal. He can only die if someone kills him or if he steps into the sun. But you will grow old and eventually pass away if you're not killed earlier.

A sudden urge to leave the tent and return at sunset washes over you, but you suppress it. You both need to address this, no matter how uncomfortable it is.

"What do you think you will do when I die?" you ask him gently.

He stares at you in horror and disbelief, as if he can't believe you've broached this topic.

"I - I don't want to have this conversation," he mutters.

"Astarion, please. We have to talk about this. My love, I know it makes you uncomfortable, but we must discuss it."

He clenches his teeth. "You can't even comprehend how much."

"I actually can because you don't seem to care about your safety, and there's a very high chance I could end up a vampire widow."

You sit before him, taking his hands and gently tracing the knuckles.

He remains silent, and the only sound is that of raindrops outside. The comfort of the warm tent makes you decide not to venture into the rain.

"I will step into the sun once you die. It's not up for discussion," he says resolutely. "I'll bid you farewell, go outside, and see the sunshine one last time. Don't worry. I'll be with you till the end."

A knot forms in your stomach as you suddenly envision Astarion cradling your lifeless body, waiting for the sun to rise.

"Don't," you abruptly say. "Don't do this."

"Well, it won't be up to you to decide," he says, his voice sending shivers down your spine. Astarion turns his head away, a signal that he wants to be alone with his thoughts.

"Okay, I'll go for a walk," you suggest, wanting some fresh air, but he grabs your hand.

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't want you to catch a cold," he insists, pulling you closer. You rest your head against his chest and you sit together in silence, lost in your thoughts.

"Astarion," you whisper. "Let me tell you something."

"If it's about death again, I'm not interested."

You hug him tightly. "No, it's about… the opposite, actually."

You carefully choose your words. "My people… My people believe in rebirth. We believe that we don't stay dead forever."

You pause, studying Astarion's face, but his pale features remain unreadable.

"When I was little, I was told that our souls come back. In a century, in a millennium. Memories return, and an old personality reawakens. It only happens to some; some are forgotten and never return. That's why we tell stories about our deceased ancestors – to help them find their way back home. Their souls must feel loved to get back."

You hug him even tighter, fearing his reaction.

"Astarion, my love, please, don't step into the sun when I die. Live. I want you to live, see the lands we won't see together, and experience things we won't experience together."

He sobs, and you look up to see his eyes closed, silent tears streaming down his beautiful face. You gently stroke his white curls.

"I want you to talk about me, to tell people stories about my adventures, about who I was. You love me deeply, and if my people are right about souls and resurrection, your memories will be the most powerful beacon in the darkest sea of death."

You release Astarion, who still avoids looking at you directly, seemingly embarrassed about his tears.

"And when that time comes, I will find you. I will embark on a quest to seek my vampire husband, and we shall meet again. You will tell me everything about the places you've visited and your adventures. People you've met, quests you've completed. Everything."

You cup Astarion's face, making him meet your gaze.

"Promise me that, my love. Promise me you will keep living." You kiss his forehead, and your heart swells when you see his smile.

"I promise," he says. "I promise I will keep going."

He lets his tears go and you are proud of him for not concealing the emotions. Then he cocks his heads and grins.

"I'll take your word for that because if I'm reincarnated and never find you, I'll be truly upset," you playfully remark.

"So will I if I keep my promise and you never return," he chuckles.

You plant kisses on his cheeks and share a lighthearted laugh.

"Are you going outside?" he asks. "It seems like it's not raining anymore."

He returns to the book he was reading.

"Go, I don't want you to stay locked in here," he insists.

"Nah, it's too cold. I'd better stay inside with you. What are you even reading there?" You try to snatch the book from his hands, but he closes it and attempts to put it away. "Since when are you embarrassed about your reading preferences?"

You try to grab the heavy black volume, but Astarion catches you and playfully puts you on your back, causing uncontrollable giggles. Now, you can't get up but still manage to stretch your hand toward the book.

"What is this?" You open it. "Dhampirs share many qualities with vampires. They walk the line between living and dead, gain heightened abilities, and have a life-draining bite. Children of vampires and mortals, they are few in number…"

You stumble. Children of vampires and mortals…

Astarion blushes. "I found this book in the troll lair. I never knew that vampires could have children. Like, real children, not cursed spawns."

You open another page with pictures depicting a young human woman with vampire fangs.

"It's written that dhampirs aren't hurt by the sun" he continues. "And they don't need blood to survive. They can easily blend with mortals, but at the same time, they are strong as the undead," he pauses. "It's like being a vampire without downsides."

Half-vampires. Dhampirs. You vaguely remember hearing about them many years ago. Is it possible for you and Astarion to have a child? And would it be right to bring a dhampir into this world?

"Now you're thinking about it too," Astarion observes.

"Guilty," you admit, still lying beneath him. You touch his back, feeling the scars through his shirt. He smiles, enjoying the sensation.

"Speaking of mortality and my promise," he continues, "I think I'll find it easier not to step into the sunlight if I have someone to care for. It would be cruel," he kisses you. "To leave a child without both parents."

You giggle.

"Am I getting this correct? You want me to give birth to a silver-curled dhampir so you won't be lonely?" you tease, pressing Astarion tighter. He doesn't answer, too occupied with undressing you.

A child. Your mind pictures a little girl who resembles both you and Astarion. A progeny. Someone to carry a piece of you both into the future.

"I don't mind," you finally say. "I actually really want this."

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #spacebarbarian fics

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spacebarbarianweird · 3 months

Note

OK OK you just gotta hear me on this one,, Astarion and gn reader where reader is little spoon and Astarion can *sense* just how relaxed reader gets. Instead of their pulse racing from his touches they slow down. Muscles relaxed. Happy little sighs.

^^ he can’t handle this btw he’s absolutely fucking bewildered

A Person to Hold

Synopsis: Fluffy post-game epilogue

Tags: fluff

Read on AO3

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Headcanons

He looks at you, unable to stop smiling.

"They deserve happiness. We all do. And I will forever be grateful to have found it with you," Astarion says.

You make a step forward with open arms. Astarion hugs you, closing his eyes like a content cat.

A mere half year ago these hugs scared him. It was weird. It was scary. What did you want? Did you want to hurt him? Did you want his body?

No.

None of that.

You taught him not to be afraid. You hug him daily and if he occasionally flinches you don’t let him go. You hold him in your arms when he has nightmares and kiss away his tears when it's just too much.

"I feel bad keeping you all to myself! After all, I get to see you every night."

"Are you sure? You won't be bored?"

You kiss his cheek and leave. In a few seconds, you look back, trying to see if he hasn’t changed his mind.

"Darling, I can spend some time with myself. Go on, go and mingle. And I will be there, when you’re ready. I will always be here, my love."

He hasn’t. Astarion sits down beside a campfire sensing its warmth.

He doesn't feel like talking. He didn't manage to make friends with the others and now can sense hostility from them. He is a vampire. His strength isn’t suppressed by the tadpole and apparently once the vampire's master is dead, spawns become lesser vampires. Astarion doesn't feel the difference, to be honest, but he knows people feel something is off with him.

Well, it doesn't matter. What matters is that he feels good. He has never thought his head might be so clear. He can make a working ambush plan in a blink of an eye and it won't lead to a disaster because he actually can think everything through. He can walk on ceilings and walls again, he regenerates before you manage to notice he is wounded.

He has the world to explore, places to see, things to do. He is going to make up for all these decades of misery, to bury them under the pile of happy memories.

And he has you.

Probably the weirdest thing that could happen to him.

You, who forgave his lies and manipulations, who gave him the second chance when it was the stupidest thing to do. Who made him believe the world isn’t an evil place.

You are the first person he sees when returns from his reverie. Your breathing soothes him, so does your heartbeat.

Astarion never had anything. Everything he had a right to was stripped away from him including his own life.

But now he has you.

To hold, to kiss, to talk.

To travel together, to hunt monsters, to be independent adventurers. You are there to save him from nightmares. And he is there to save you from death.

How could he become so happy?

“I am going to sleep, are you with me or do you want to hunt?” he feels a soft “pat” on his shoulder.

How come he has you?

You are a bit drunk and very sleepy.

“Let’s go to the tent.”

“Good, I got used to sleeping with you by my side.”

Astarion looks around as if ashamed of what he is going to do and, having made sure no one sees you, takes you in his hands bridal-style.

You are weightless to him thanks to the vampiric strength. He could walk many miles carrying you and not getting tired.

In the tent, you get to your bedroll and immediately cover yourself with a thick blanket. Then, you open it a little, inviting Astarion to join.

He takes his clothes off and crawls to your side. The night is warm, so are you. But since you have to share your body heat with him, you sleep under the thickest fur blanket.

You are his and he is yours. If a year ago someone told him that would be his future he would bitterly laugh.

Astarion presses your back to his chest, placing the chin on your shoulder.

Your muscles relax, the pulse slows down. You are falling asleep in his arms.

"My love, thank you" he whispers in you ear, tugging you closer

“Hm?”

“Thank you for finding me."

You squeeze his hand. “You were worth it.”

He doesn’t want to meditate. He wants to hold you like that until you wake up. Astarion concentrates on your breathing and heartbeat. You are already sound asleep.

“Sleep well, darling,” he kisses your cheek. “We still have plenty of things to do together.”

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion angst #astarion drabble #astarion short fic #spacebarbarian fics #astarion fluff #astarion comfort #baldur's gate post game

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spacebarbarianweird · 4 months

Note

I've found a few fics that hc that Astarion purrs when he's happy (Catstarion supremacy lol). Do you think he might if he felt safe enough with Tav?

I am 100% on board with that! I know that bats purr a little bit different from cats but it's not like bats=vampires.

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Headcanons

Purring Astarion

Vampires can purr.

They purr when they are safe, happy, and content.

Like cats.

But have you ever seen a happy vampire?

Never. It's as rare as a vampire who can walk in the sunlight.

They suffer. They starve. They hate themselves.

They are tortured. Beaten. Hunted.

They are never safe enough to do so.

Astarion's life used to be hell. There wasn't a single good thing in his pathetic existence.

But he is free now. Cared. Loved.

He can do whatever he wants.

And he isn't alone. He has a person to hold, to talk to, and to share his feelings with.

Who can sit for hours playing with his curls while he trauma-dumps them about the most horrible events of his life.

Astarion learns about new ways of intimacy - bathing together, holding hands, cuddling.

One day, he wakes up after an especially bad nightmare. He doesn't remember what exactly he saw, but it was so unsettling he scratches his skin with his sharp nails.

When you return and see Astarion like that, you place him above you like a weighted blanket.

Pressing his head against your chest and stroking his back.

Your heartbeat and breathing soothe him, and he stops crying.

You lie like that for what seems like an eternity in silence.

He is happy.

At this moment, he realizes that the last six months have become a counterweight to two hundred years of misery.

Astarion relaxes and feels like falling asleep.

You hear a weird sound, as if there was a big cat beside you.

Purring.

You hug Astarion tighter and realize the purring comes from his chest and throat.

He probably isn't even aware of it.

The sound is nice and pleasant, but the very idea is hilarious, and you burst out laughing.

"What - What is this?" Astarion elbows up, staring at you. "Did I do something wrong?"

There is a weird sensation in his throat, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

"You were purring! Like a cat!"

Astarion is shocked.

It's not like he is fond of the idea that his body reacts so openly to feeling good.

(As if having an erection any time you do something playful wasn't enough to embarrass him).

But all his doubts fade into the background as he realizes how much you like it.

It's like having a big cat in your bed who doesn't try to run away if you squeeze it too hard.

And it's a good indication if Astarion really feels good or just pretends.

Sometimes, you think he feels off, only to hear soft purring from his chest.

Sometimes everything is great, but you don't hear this pleasant vibration.

And you also soon realize that if you make Astarion sit between your thighs, his back pressed against your chest, and start playing with his ears and curls, he immediately starts purring.

Safe, loved, protected. Like a happy cat.

Bonus:

You and Astarion have a dhampir-daughter

You two wonder how many vampiric traits your daughter has inherited.

Will she be able to walk on ceilings? Will she have fast regeneration?

You will find it later, but now you have a newborn girl, who isn't really fond of the idea of being pushed into this unpredictable world.

Once you finish the first breastfeeding session, the girl closes her dark eyes…

And start purring like a tiny kitten.

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spacebarbarianweird · 4 months

Text

Astarion x Big-Breasted!Tav

Inspired by @mglennonart art

Thanks @thechaoticdruid , @rachelle-on-the-run and and @not-so-lost-after-all for help!

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Headcanons

So, you are a human woman.

Human women come in every form and size, and you are particularly cursed/blessed with huge breasts.

You know how human women find elven men attractive coz they are so beautiful and gentle?

Elven men love human women for their "tits" and "asses".

You know, half-elves are usually born to human mothers, after all.

Unfortunately, the same features, loved by elves, are often a reason for mockery from other humans.

Be it jealousy from other women or undercover lust from men.

You were bullied when you were young and grew up ashamed of your body trying to cover yourself from unasked attention.

Besides, people call women like you "asking for things".

As if backache and inability to sleep on your stomach aren't enough!

Or people assuming facts about you just because you look like that.

With Astarion…

It's different.

It's not "I don't care about tits".

If anything, he cares a lot about them.

But there is awe in how he looks at you.

There is adoration.

He likes pressing his face against your chest, burying his nose in your breasts.

He likes to occasionally put his hand under your shirt.

At first, you were embarrassed by this but later you got used to it.

He sews dresses for you - the ones with deep necklines.

When he first presented you one you refused to leave the house without him by your hand.

But you know he will protect you if someone can't keep their dirty thoughts to themselves.

A man who dared to grope you at the tavern is now missing three fingers.

An old pervert who called you a slut is now a one-eyed pervert.

Astarion also makes you a corset which makes fighting and travelling easier for you.

But it's also suspiciously easy to unlace.

Because if you stay in camp or in an inn, Astarion likes seeing you as you are.

With time, Astarion learns how to transform into a bat, and - and in a bat form he easily fits in your bra.

He can never get enough of it.

Me and @rachelle-on-the-run were carried away A LOT and we have some ideas for NSFW headcanons. Coz it's already very naughty. Would you like to read it?

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spacebarbarianweird · 2 months

Note

Hi! I absolutely love your headcannons!! Would it be possible for me to request sick Astarion? Or Astarion with a sick Tav? :)

Hi! Thank you for your request! I think I can do both!

Masterlist

Headcanons

Caring for their sick partner

Astarion takes care of you

He isn't a nurturing type.

He doesn't really care about himself let alone someone else!

Besides, it's not like he used to hang out with mortals a lot.

During your post-game adventures, you end in the far north in the middle of winter.

Astarion doesn't feel cold, but he notices you feel uncomfortable near him - his body is cold, and he steals the heat you need so much.

It causes tension between you two - one of the first challenges for you as a couple.

During a fight, you fall through the ice and almost die in the dark cold waters.

Astarion saves you but the damage is done.

You are severely sick.

Astarion freaks out.

You are dying in his arms.

He has to save you. He won't lose you.

Astarion manages to dress you in dry and warm clothes. He leaves you by the fire for a bit to hunt - you need food, and Astarion needs blood to warm you.

Then, when you stabilize, he carries you to the closest village and gives you all the money you've earned in your travels for a room in the inn.

He spoon-feeds you and wraps you in the warmest blankets.

Sometimes you pout, refusing to take one more bitter medicine, but he can't take this nonsense - you are going to get better. Period.

When you wake up, still in fever, Astarion is always near. Either wrapping you with his blood-warm body or with his ear on your chest as if he was afraid your heart was going to stop at any given moment.

As the spring comes, you finally get better. Astarion gives you a bath, and you realize how itchy and sweaty your body is.

Then he lashes at you, of course.

You were reckless, you were risking yourself. How could you?

But you know he speaks out of fear, and you comfort him, promising to never put yourself in danger without a need.

You take care of Astarion

If you weren't a nurturing type, you wouldn't end up with Astarion.

The man needs help and care, something he never had.

You comfort him after the nightmares and kiss away his tears.

He doesn't need to be cared for physically - once the tadpole is removed, he regenerates, and it's impossible to wound him.

But he is a mental wreck who can have a meltdown over a trigger word or a cruel flashback after an innocent action.

But he is far from invincible.

He is being reckless and ends up surrounded by monster hunters.

They chain him in silver and leave him helpless on the ground to see the sun.

You manage to come to the rescue - and murder all three of them.

But as you fight, the sun rises, and it burns Astarion.

It's almost too late for him when you set him free and drag him to the shadows.

The regeneration is slowed down - the burns are as bad as if he survived a fire.

You give him blood. All you can do without killing yourself.

The assault causes one of the worst setbacks in his healing process.

Astarion is almost catatonic - curling in the darkest corner of the room in the fetal position.

You can only guess what prison his tortured mind is locked in.

You talk to him. Hug him. Takes care of his hair. Caress his back.

Days become weeks, weeks become months - and one evening Astarion is finally back.

He wraps his hand around you and nuzzles your collarbone.

By the end of the night, Astarion is his true self again, ready for everything freedom has to offer.

"I was there, in the tomb," he confesses. "I was locked there, in the dark, and all my life looked like a feverish dream."

"I am here, love," you say. "I will always be here for you."

You pretend you don't see his tears as you say it.

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spacebarbarianweird · 3 months

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Baby Fangs

Synopsis: Baby Alethaine is severely sick, and Astarion is afraid his daughter is going to die.

Tags: hurt/comfort, dadstarion, dhampirs

Alethaine's age: 5 month

Thanks @queenofthespacesquids for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

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Astarion has never been so afraid in his life.

Not when he was dying in the streets of Baldur’s Gate. Not when he thought Tiriel had gone. Not when Cazador had inflicted tortures on him.

It just can’t compare to the fear of losing a child.

“She needs to make it till morning,” the healer says. “If she is alive by sunrise, she will get better.”

“But can we do anything?” Tiriel looks as if she is going to fight. “There are healing spells, potions, anything!”

“And most of them aren’t fit for a five month old child. Astarion, Tiriel, I give you my word. I’ve done everything I can. There are probably some clerics and wizards who can heal your child immediately but none of them live in Daggerlake. I am sorry.”

The healer walks away, leaving a dreadful silence in the house.

Astarion sits on the bed, clasping his hands together. Of course, things couldn't be this good. Of course something had to go wrong! How could he have been foolish enough to believe that things could be good for him?

His little daughter, Alethaine, is such a miracle, such a gift. When he first held her in his arms, he dared to hope that everything would be all right from then on. And now they tell him she's dying? That she would be dead by morning?

Alethaine whimpers weakly. She is already too tired to cry.

Tiriel looks terrible. She is a warrior, a fighter, but for the first time in her life, she has no enemy to kill. The enemy is her daughter's fever, and she can't beat it the way she beats monsters.

The baby starts coughing.

Astarion doesn't need to be a vampire to feel his daughter's pain. Her muscles are too tense. Her breathing is ragged and her heartbeat is too weak. Alethaine is suffering at this very moment, and there is nothing her parents can do about it.

Can’t give her medicine. Can’t soothe her pain.

There is a grip of death around her tiny heart and neither Tiriel nor Astarion can unclench it.

Tiriel sits on the bed, cradling Alethaine in her arms. Astarion wraps his hands around them.

“So what do we do?” he asks.

“We wait,” she answers. Her voice sounds exhausted.

He nods.

Yesterday, Alethaine was perfectly healthy. She tried to sit up, but each time her head proved too heavy and she fell on her back. Then her black eyes clouded over and a fever rose. She refused to eat and only cried like a wounded animal.

“What if she doesn’t make it?” Astarion asks.

Tiriel doesn't answer and he sees tears flowing down her cheek. “We will keep living. Could you please bring a blanket?”

Astarion reluctantly lets them go and picks up a thick fur blanket from the floor. Then they sit together with their backs against the wall, covering their sick daughter with the blanket. Only a desperate cough echoes through the room.

Children die all the time. Mostly little kids like Alethaine. Daggerlake isn't a very big town, but Astarion knows that at least three babies have died this year. From disease. Small children like this are too vulnerable. It happens all the time.

There's a chance that tomorrow Astarion will have to dig a grave and put a tiny bundle in there that never had a chance to grow up.

It's so unfair that it makes Astarion want to howl.

"Astarion," Tiriel touches his curls. "Let's talk. The silence is killing me."

“What do you want to talk about, my sweet?”

“I don't know… Anything.” Tiriel places the girl in his hands and Astarion flinches sensing the heat of Alethaine’s body. Fever. A terrible killing fever. “Do you think she is a dhampir?”

“She is an elf like I was before I died.”

When Tiriel was pregnant, he read as much as possible about dhampirs. Deadly and fast, half-vampires don’t need blood and can live in the sun. But they have vampiric strength, can walk on ceilings, and regenerate much faster than mortals. No wonder vampires are often jealous of their children.

But at the same time, the life of a dhampir is full of hardships. Neither a vampire, nor a mortal, they are doomed to be alone. Once they feel bloodlust for the first time and fangs replace the canines, they are outcasts often disowned by their own mortal families.

But does it have to be like that? Astarion has been fighting the odds against his vampiric nature for the last twenty years. Why can’t his daughter?

But Astarion is afraid they will never learn the answer to either of their questions. Alethaine opens her mouth and makes a deep breath as if suffocating. Something doesn’t allow her to breathe and she makes hissing sounds. Her little eyes are watery - by this time she can only cry.

So can her parents.

“I wouldn’t want to, I think,” Tiriel says. “If she is dhampir it means she is alone. Even if other spawns have children too, what is the chance she will ever meet them?”

Astarion kisses Tiriel’s cheek. if Alethaine dies, they bury her and leave. Daggerlake is a welcoming town but it will be a place of sorrow for them.

Tiriel adjusts herself a bit.

“Fuck” she mutters. Astarion immediately smells the blood. Tiriel’s thumb is bleeding. “A fucking splinter.”

Alethaine cries at the top of her lungs.

Astarion stares at his daughter with shock. She screams with the strength they didn’t know she posseses. It’s desperate. Angry.

Demanding.

This moment she doesn’t sound like a child. She sounds like a little beast.

Before Astarion makes up any coherent thought, Tiriel puts her bleeding thumb to Alethaine’s lips, making the blood pour into her mouth.

“Tiriel, what are you doing?”

Tiriel doesn’t answer. The girl makes sucking movements as her mother squeezes drops of blood from her finger.

And then her dark eyes turn red.

They glow in the half-lit room like two tiny lights.

Tiriel puts her fingers away and Alethaine makes a disgruntled sound. Her elven ears twitch.

The eyes stop glowing so intensely and return to their natural black color.

And then Alethaine laughs.

She is kicking her legs and stretching her arms to her parents.

The girl is happy. Happy like a well-fed vampire.

“Astarion, look at her gums.”

Two baby fangs. Very small, almost kitten-like.

“It wasn’t a fever,” Astarion mutters. “It was a bloodlust.”

Of course… If she was older she would just try to get blood from somewhere.

But when you are five months old you can’t do a lot of things.

Poor girl, how she suffered those two days.

Is dhampir bloodlust the same as vampiric? Was she feeling her stomach being ripped apart, her throat hurting and bleeding? Maybe it was even worse for her? Maybe her mortal nature was fighting the bloodthirsty monster, causing Alethaine to cry in pain?

Helpless baby alone with her pain and fear while her parents didn't think of the most obvious explanation.

** Astarion sits at the doorstep with a plushie doll in his hands. The toy has white hair and elven ears, and now Astarion is stitching small fangs to its mouth.

The tears prickle his eyes.

He’s condemned his child for a life of hardships. For loneliness, for constant war against herself. If someday Alethaine shows up at his doorstep blaming him for all her tragedies, he will not even try to defend himself.

“No, kitten, I don’t care if you don’t like it! I can’t breastfeed you anymore and I am not giving you any blood! You eat normal food!” He hears Tiriel’s voice from inside the house.

Alethaine isn’t going to comply easily.

Then he hears footsteps from behind.

“What are you doing?” Tiriel asks.

“Adding fangs to her toy.”

Tiriel sits beside him.

“You have mash in your hair.” Astarion notices

“I know. You should see the other girl. How do you feel about giving her a bath?”

“I don't think you should ask. It’s my child. It seems like… even more mine now.”

“Hey, don't be upset. We knew it was possible.”

“I just… Her eyes, Tiriel, you saw them.They were like theirs… My siblings…Cazador… the same fucking glowing eyes as if she was a vampire, too!”

“It’s because of blood. She doesn’t have to drink it, she can eat normal food.”

“We should have found the cure before making a child.”

“But we didn’t find any.”

Tiriel takes a wet piece of rag and wipes her hair. “Astarion, I am going to talk to you seriously and, please, pay attention to every word I say.”

“I am all pointy ears, my love.”

“I was beaten and humiliated daily for who I was. My family didn't even give me a name because they despised me. But when I met elves for the first time they called me “garbage” - Biir. Half-something, half a person. Half elves aren't uncommon. There are surprisingly many in big cities. But I’ve been taught to despise my body, to hate my ears, to be embarrassed of my own existence. And our daughter is a dhampir. And I am sure there aren’t many like her. This world will have a thousand opportunities to shove her differences up to her nose. This world will teach Alethaine to hate herself. I can guarantee you she will try to pull her fangs out or maybe will ask someone to knock them out. She will cover herself not to let people see how pale she truly is. And we must not be a part of her problems.”

“Tiriel, I would never - “

“She is a girl, Astarion. Her image of herself will be formed mostly by you, not by me. The way you will perceive her will be the way she will see herself. And if she sees resentment, if she senses your sorrows that she isn’t a normal child, she will start hating herself. She will feel it. And it will stay with her till her long days are over.”

“Tiriel, what exactly in my behavior tells you that I am going to mistreat her? She is my child! She is…”

“I didn’t mean to ignore the fact she is a dhampir. You must cherish her differences. We must love her for being a dhampir. We must form this idea that it’s good she is a dhampir.”

Astarion chuckles. To be honest, he has never accepted his vampirism. It happened against his will and he would give anything to get rid of it. It is a curse. And now… his daughter is cursed as well.

“Astarion, this is important. Even the tiniest things will affect her. And we will have to deal with the consequences.”

The girl cries for her parents, and Tiriel, planting a kiss on Astarion’s forehead, returns inside.

Several hours later, when a washed and clean-clothed Alethaine is happily lying on her parents' bed and trying to make some coherent movements, Astarion finally finds enough moral strength to accept the reality.

He takes his daughter in his arms and walks up to the ceiling. The girl laughs and tries to bite him.

"Aren't you the cutest dhampir in Faerûn?" he mutters. "I can't wait to teach you how to use those fangs in battle. You will be deadly, my princess! But don't bite your mother, that's my prerogative."

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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

Text

Fever

Summary: During your post-game adventures, you get sick and Astarion takes care of you.

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Tags: hurt/comfort, f!tav, established relationship, post-game

Read on AO3

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Thanks @tragedybunny for being an amazing beta!

It's bone-chilling cold. So close to the Spine of the World, the snow and winds prove as merciless as demons from the Abyss. Tears freeze on your cheeks. Even Astarion, wrapped in his fur cape, shivers; the cold seeping into his undead body. He starves. The dark forest is silent, with no animals around to prey on.

"Astarion," you muffle through the thick scarf, "take a small sip, I beg you."

"No," he refuses yet again, unwilling to risk your life. Hunger and cold torment him, but he stands on his feet. Meanwhile, you, a fragile mortal, teeter on the verge of death in this frozen forest. Your back aches despite Astarion carrying most of the load. Your feet are numb as if submerged in icy water, and your throat burns with pain.

Astarion grabs your hand and lets you lean back on him. The nearest village is still miles away, and there's no chance you'll make it till sunrise. Nights are long, dark, and unforgiving. You need to set up the camp; it might be warmer in daylight.

But Astarion desperately holds on to his sanity, which he might lose if he doesn't feed soon.

"Astarion, please. We need to put up the tent. Sunrise is soon. I will just lay by the fire, and you can eat."

"We still have time, darling, and save your energy," he grits his teeth. The starving monster within him looks at you through Astarion's kind crimson eyes.

"Astarion, take my blood!"

He doesn't reply, leading the way through dark woods. If only there was an animal, even a rat. Looking up, you see the dark skies filled with prickly stars.

"What is it, my sweet?"

Suddenly, you realize you haven't been cold because of the snow and winds. You are cold from within. Your heart, lungs, and bones are freezing, much like what Astarion feels every moment since he died. "Oh, fuck!"

You realize you now lie in the snow, unable to move, as the air in your throat burns with ice.

"Wake up, gods damn you!" Astarion's voice is desperate, betraying that he' is scared to death.

You hear the loud thump when his travel sack drops in the snow. Then he works on your belts, releasing your burden. A moment later, and you rest in his hands.

"Love, I need you to stay awake. You hear me?"

But you can't say anything. The cold rips through your muscles, turning into ice, and you lose consciousness, drowning in cold, dark waters.

So cold, so cold. It's a freezing grip of death on your heart, killing you. You think of Astarion, imagining him beside your lifeless body.

… You hear muffled talking and open your eyes. You aren't dead, that's for sure, but there is complete darkness around you.

And you lie under something weighty.

You try to move but can't, your. whole body shivers. You are almost naked, tucked in animal fur like some barbarian child.

The smell wood and herbs comes to you. And fire.

Then you remember the sun. And how Astarion carried you in his hands. Horror pierces your mind along with cold.

He is dead. He didn't make it till sunrise. It burnt him; he is gone. And the village people probably found you alone in the snow and brought you here.

While you think, you realize there are people in the room. Two people, to be precise.

"It's a freezing fever," the female voice says. "You two would have been complete idiots if you'd decided to put up a camp. She would have been dead by now."

"But now—is she ok?"

Astarion.

You have never felt so much joy in your life. He is alive and here, beside you. You can't comprehend how much strength he had to pull to make it with you in his hands by sunrise.

"She needs to take the potion. And then sleep in warmth."

You feel the familiar weight beside you. Then, two hands get you out of the blankets and make you sit up. Your head is spinning, and you shiver, though you notice sweat on the healer's face.

Astarion smiles at you and brings the bottle with the potion to your lips.

"Drink, love," he says.

"The taste is nasty," the healer shrugs. "Make her drink every last drop."

The potion is genuinely awful, burning your mouth. You start slipping away again, and Astarion tucks you in thick blankets.

"And people say vampires are soulless creatures. They should meet you two.”

When the healer leaves, Astarion lies beside you over the blanket. You wish to hug him but are afraid of his cold skin.

"Are you hungry?" you ask.

You hear a chuckle. "You are at death's door, and you ask about me? "Take mine," you insist.

"Tav, darling, I ain't taking a tiny drop from you until you fully recover. There is prey in the woods. I will find it."

You want to say something else, but the freezing hand of the sickness grips your throat. You feel like you’re naked on ice, in the howling wind.

"Love?"

"It's still… cold…"

Astarion sighs and stands up. You want to cry, to beg him to stay, but you can't say anything as he leaves the room, closing the thick wooden door.

You feel like crying, alone, and freezing. The healer curses, "You, idiot, stay inside!"

You hide under the blanket in the fetal position, trying to save warmth. However, it's difficult since the core of your suffering is still within. What if you are dying? And you are dying all alone in this village without a name in the middle of nowhere.

It's been years since you left Baldur's Gate together, and you can't fall asleep without him by your side. Astarion is safety. Astarion is protection. Whatever enemy is out there to threaten your life and freedom, Astarion is always there with his fangs and daggers. He doesn't sleep—only meditates a bit—and he is your guardian when you are most vulnerable.

But now you are alone. Your mind grasps consciousness with the last bits of strength you have. The thick blankets don't let you move, and you lie like you’re in your very own coffin of ice. It's been a long time since you were left alone, but you know it's still dark outside. And then you realize you aren't alone anymore.

Astarion crawls under the blankets and covers your body with himself, placing his head on your chest. He smells like blood, the hunt, and forest. He has already pulled off all his clothes, and you feel his skin against yours, unexpectedly flaming hot.

You can only wonder how much blood he has drunk. Sure, his body gets warm after feeding, and the more living blood he takes, the more alive he seems. But this is different. You can't see him, but you are somehow sure his skin has temporarily returned to its natural living color.

You wrap your hands around him and stroke the scars. Astarion groans and adjusts himself a bit.

"I've been hunting," he says, sounding drunk. "The healer told me there is a bear attacking villagers, starved and angry. I found and drained it."

"You shouldn't have risked it."

"I wanted you to be warm. I know how it feels to have a freezing grip on the heart. It hurts. All the time."

You press him tighter and kiss his forehead.

With him in your hands, you finally fall asleep. You have a strange dream—a summer day in the beautiful mountains.

And there is Astarion beside you. He smiles, exposing his face to the sunshine. You want to tell him to hide, to run away. But he opens his eyes, and you stare at him in disbelief.

They are green, not red.

… When you wake up, you feel hot. Sweat runs down your back, and the blankets suffocate you. You get out of them like a kitten squeezed by its mother.

"Hello, my sweet. You are so adorable with this bed hair," Astarion sits on the floor with a needle and a thread. You recognize his own shirt in his hands.

"How awful do I look?"

"You look like someone who finally got better. But I suppose you could scare away some kids in that village. Maybe I should tell them you are also a vampire. Food or bath?" he asks.

"Food. I am dying of hunger."

"My sweet, don't tell me about hunger." He mockingly kisses you. He returns soon with a soup bowl. You try to take the plate in your trembling hands, but Astarion forces you to sit still like a baby and starts spoon-feeding you.

"Good girl," he chuckles. "The healer said it would take you weeks to recover, and you made it in three days."

"And you have been here?"

"Don't offend me with such questions."

"Oh, don't be angry."

With a full stomach, you feel much better and lie back on the bed, letting your body fully recover. Astarion studies your face as if seeing it for the first time. Then he lies beside you, allowing you to place your head on his chest. His skin is cold again, but it feels more like him.

"What is on your mind, Astarion?" you ask.

"I want to stay," he says. "Not exactly here, but I can't live like that anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Living on the road. I can't do that anymore. You obviously can't either. I... listen… I've never had a home. Never had a place to call my own. I want one. I want one with you."

"Didn't you tell me it would be tediously boring?" you inquire. "I wanted to see what life has to offer beyond the city walls." "Astarion, it will be dangerous. No one would want a—"

You bite your tongue. "Sorry."

"Dealing with a nosey neighbor doesn't sound more dangerous than getting some weird sickness in the middle of nowhere. Besides, we can prove to people it's better to have a vampire of their own rather than be threatened by some unhinged vampire lord.”

"Astarion, I am afraid for you. People hate vampires!"

"And I am afraid for you."

You are both silent. You turn to him and nuzzle his collarbone. He wraps his hands around you. Vague memories return, and you suddenly realize you heard the voices while in fever.

"Don't die. Please, don't die. I need you."

A scared voice of a healer. "You are a vampire!"

"Please help her. I won't come inside. I will stay in the woods. Please, please, help her! She is mortal; she is dying!"

You remember being carried to the bed and a strong smell of herbs. "How did you two end up together?", asked the healer.

"She saved me. From myself. Showed me I have a chance to be something different from what I was turned into. Tell me what I can do. Do you need herbs? Ingredients? I will bring you anything."

And then the face of the healer standing above you. She came to check on you in Astarion's absence, and the feverish mind remembered that.

"You are a lucky to have him, girl."

You caress Astarion's cheek. "Would staying in one place make you happy?"

He nods.

"Then, me too." --

Tag list

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion fluff #astarion ancunin #astarion fics #astarion x f!tav #astarion x reader #nurturing astarion #astarion fanfic #spacebarbarian fics #astarion angst #astarion hurt #astarion comfort

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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

Text

Widower Astarion Headcanons

Ok, we wanted pain - I bring you pain. @astarionsbeloved @wickedwitchofthewilds @sleepykitty21 @starlight-ipomoea

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion isn't an idiot; he knows you are mortal, a topic you've discussed before.

Jokingly, he suggested you find a vampire lord, but even if one were found, Astarion would never allow you to turn into a vampire.

"It hurts, it's painful. The existence of a vampire is miserable. I will never do this to you."

The price of mortality is death.

You made him promise not to step into the sunlight and to keep living, carrying memories of you into the future.

You die as you always wanted: in a glorious battle, or safe and comfy in your bed, or brought home by Astarion to a place you grew up in.

You die with no regrets, sorrows, or complaints.

Astarion is numb; all the feelings he learned how to express are gone with your last breath.

He dissociates; it's not him, not now, not real—he is somewhere else.

He hides in the shadows, safe in the darkness and lonely.

Unfortunately, Astarion has never learned how to be alone; you never left him on his own for a long time.

He realizes he can't meditate; there is a mental block preventing him from doing so in your absence.

It's even worse since he can't give himself a break.

Eventually, some friends of yours give him a Potion of Angelic Slumber. He sleeps for a few days in a row, without dreams and nightmares.

When he wakes up, the first thing he does is look for you, and then he realizes you're gone.

In this moment, Astarion breaks down, crying and cursing in Elven and Common.

His back hurts as if there are flesh wounds; the cold grip of darkness holds his undead heart. The tears burn the crimson eyes.

He mourns, grieves, wishes to be dead, but the given promise and the innate desire to survive prevent him from going into the sun.

For the first few years, he lives as a hermit in your shared house, starving himself by not hunting and spending months on your side of the bed without moving at all.

It's not life; it's an existence, miserable and hopeless when he imagines you alive.

A wake-up call is sudden but almost divine.

Deep in his thoughts, he finds himself in his own grave in Baldur's Gate, seeing you six feet above him as young as you were back during the tadpole adventure.

"I didn't get you out of this grave to let you bury yourself. Come on, you promised to me to live! Then, live! This is my last gift."

He wakes up, starving and cold, goes up and leaves for hunting. He hunts for a few days, satiating himself with animal and sentient beings' blood.

As his mind returns to him, Astarion washes and repairs his clothes, brushes his hair, makes himself look decent.

He ravages through your things, collecting them carefully in one place. You wouldn't want a shrine, so he sells the things he won't be able to use anymore.

He puts on your wedding ring (now he has two identical rings) and also a necklace you always liked.

He re-sews one of your gowns into a shirt; now, it feels like you are still with him.

Astarion leaves his first forever home and starts his own journey, taking the role of a sole adventurer - a monster hunter, a protector of the weak. He has always had this heroic side in him, just never admitted.

The most difficult thing is to stay alone; people praise him for saving someone from a monster, but they fear mingling with a vampire.

Sometimes, Astarion cries in his tent, cursing the evil gods for taking the only good thing he ever had.

He constantly talks to himself, imagining you standing beside him.

He actually enjoys these one-sided monologues because he can pretend you are still here.

Years pass, memories of the happy life fade. Astarion joins groups of adventurers here and there but always feels off.

Eventually, he finds the strength to live up to his promise, to enjoy what he has.

He explores places he has never been to, does things he has never done, and hears stories he has never heard.

He makes friends, mostly among long-living creatures. "Oh, my young vampire friend! It's been a while!" A wizard elf greets him with open arms. "I am 400 years older than you, idiot," Astarion chuckles and returns a hug.

Most importantly, he preserves the memory about you, paying bards and storytellers, talking about you at campfires, and putting you as an example of kindness and bravery.

Once, Astarion hears a song, "The One Who Saved Baldur's Gate." The motive and words are nice, but the more he listens to it, the more in shock he is.

This song known to every decent bard in Swords Coast is about you, a distant memory, a long-forgotten story.

He has fulfilled your promise, made sure you live in people's hearts. This day is bittersweet; he cries his eyes out, listening to that song over and over again.

But he feels happy, the first time in years.

With decades to pass, Astarion creates the Blood Guild - a union of vampires and dhampirs who prefer to hunt monsters rather than be ones. They also keep an eye on other vampires who are a danger to mortals, especially those who make spawns and thralls out of innocent victims.

Having immortal undead friends feels nice; having friends who understand his issues, too.

He finds himself in the position of a mentor; vampires come to him for advice and emotional support.

Then he meets a person, a runaway spawn, angry with what happened to them, determined to do whatever it takes to break their chains. Astarion agrees to help; they constantly bicker about every single thing—views on life, personal experiences, shared interests.

This new person is annoying, obnoxious, brave, and lovable. Suddenly Astarion realizes he doesn't want to stay in his tent alone; he doesn't want to speak to himself anymore.

The long-forgotten feeling of loving someone aches in his undead heart, but now it's not his turn to confess.

"You know, I've been manipulating you into helping me. I am sorry. if you want, I will go away."

"You are a good person, Astarion. No one is like you. But you deserve honesty and something real."

Astarion smiles back and hugs this person.

This relationship is different; the runaway spawn is nothing like you, different in every way possible—personality, appearance, behavior, views on life, everything.

At first, there is profound guilt, as if he betrays your memory by having another romantic relationship.

They talk, sharing the darkest and saddest parts of their immortal lives—crimes they had to commit, lives they lost.

Eventually, Astarion tells them about you—how wonderful you were, how kind, how brave, how much you meant to him. His new love smiles and takes away a strand curl from his face.

"So, this is the person I must thank for you?".

He helps his new love to break the chains by killing the vampire lord.

Returning back, Astarion starts talking about the future.

Adventures? Of course! His partner is also a spawn, they need healing and freedom the same way he needed many years ago.

And then - who knows? Life is full of cruel wonders. Especially, for immortals.

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

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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

Note

Alright fic request! (Either reader or named Tav, whatever sparks joy.)

I HC that since Baldurs Gate has such a low population of elves, a lot of Astarion's previous sexual experiences did not involve his ears. They are probably the least "used" (his feelings) part of himself.

Maybe Tav isn't an elf and doesn't know, so they eventually just casually reach out- because they are so cute and Astarion's been OK with casual touches like that now they are in a relationship. But he just flinches away- very uncomfortable and hurt this happened.

Tav is obviously going to apologize and try to accept they hurt Astarion by mistake. Maybe not that night, but sometimes later after Astarion got to see them be sincere about his boundaries (maybe even OK woth him having a "bad" reaction) he puts his head in their lap and asks them to touch his ears in a quiet voice.

Basically a story about navigating rough waters with love.

I finally got to your request! I know it's been a while, thank you for waiting!

Synopsis: Astarion has very sensitive ears, you've never touched them. Until today.

Tags: fluff, Elven language and culture.

Thanks @bunnidarling for beta-reading! Your notes are super helpful!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Pointy Ears

Moon washes the meadow in silver light. As he sits by the campfire, Astarion's skin looks almost marble to you: white and perfect. You glance at him from time to time to detect a hint of disturbance, that his mind has dragged him to some unpleasant place.

But it seems like he is at peace with himself.

His pointy ears twitch a bit when invisible facial muscles move. They’re probably your favorite part of his body: long and sensitive, with a delightful pinkish hue. The elves, Tel’Quessira, have the most amazing ears.

But you suddenly realize you’ve never touched them. You often massage his scalp and have kissed almost every inch of his body, but the ears remain untouched.

The scars and the bite mark? It took months for him to relax enough to let his guard down. You still remember him muttering “Tav loves me, Tav won’t hurt me” while you were caressing his back. You pretended you didn’t hear that. As for the more intimate parts of his body, you two agreed on an “ask before putting a hand into the trousers”.

But his ears… You are a non-elf, a lesser being in the eyes of elves, and know nothing about them. But you remember how many years ago someone told you “Never touch their pointy ears, they hate it”.

“Astarion.”

Silence.

“Astarion, are you with me?”

Silence yet again. He looks somewhere into the woods, mentally far away from your small camp. Suddenly, his eyes squint and you see anxiety on his face.

Nine hells, again.

It happens to him often. He just sits motionless as if someone has cast a “hold a person” spell on him. He can stay like that for hours oblivious to the world around him. As if his mind shuts itself down. Sometimes he returns, surprised it’s already sunset “I thought it was still morning”, he says.

He describes it as a dark wave that just pulls him under into the nightmare, and he can’t do anything, only to keep drowning.

You approach Astarion and sit behind him. Then you touch his curls, slowly brushing them with your finger.

“I am here. I am not going anywhere,” you whisper. “Return to me, please.”

No response.

You keep caressing his head, intensifying your touches as you try to return him to reality.

And then your fingers accidently brush along his left ear.

Astarion flinches, forcing you to take your hands away.

“I am sorry,” you mutter.

Astarion covers his ear with his palm and stares at you in shock. He looks like a person who has been woken up in the middle of the night in some weird and violent way.

“Did I hurt you? I am so sorry!”

“No… you didn’t…” He still looks startled. “I just… Seldarine… How long have I been like that?”

“Since sunset. It’s almost the middle of the night.”

He snatches his shirt from the ground and puts it on. You still feel guilty.

“Sorry… I won’t touch your ears again.”

“Darling, you’ve touched me in much more intimate places and done much more lewd things to my body than this.”

You blush.

“It’s just… unexpected.”

“I am sorry.”

“Stop it! I hate it when you apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just… Fuck it. I want to take a walk.”

You nod. “Take a walk” means “I want to wander the woods on my own''. Sometimes he hunts small animals and drains them dry. More often he just walks enjoying the freedom of being in nature. Even a person who loves cities would go insane, forced to spend 200 years within its walls.

You are still embarrassed by your actions, so you return to the tent. You are feeling sleepy and doze off on your bedroll hugging a pillow.

You wake up a few hours later when Astarion returns to the tent. His shirt is bloodstained and his trousers are dirty, but he looks happy.

“Good morning, darling”, he kisses you. “It’s sunrise, time for the mortals.”

“Unless they travel with vampires,” you mumble as you sit up, feeling more or less rested. “I see you are in a good mood.”

“I am always in a good mood when I see your face, my dear.”

You scoot over, making more room for him. The tent is small but enchanted with darkness which fully protects Astarion from the sunlight. You would love to spend a couple of days in the inn, but the nearest town has no such place and you have to stay at the camp.

“Listen… about what happened…” He stumbles over his words. “Could you touch my ears?”

You giggle and invite him to sit between your legs. He presses his back against your chest and you wrap your arms around his body.

“You have leaves in your hair,” you say, brushing his curls with your fingers before kissing the crown of his head. “How sensitive are your ears?”

“Very sensitive, he admits. “That’s why… I… we… don’t like unwelcome touches.”

You carefully touch the tip of his left ear, then move your finger along the edge of the shell.

He closes his eyes and smiles.

You get braver and use your other hand to caress his right ear. You lean forward and kiss the tips, and as you do you feel an electric impulse coarse through Astarion's body.

“Why don’t you wear any adornments? You like rings and necklaces, but all the elves I have ever seen wear something on their ears. I mean, I understand why Tel’Quessir don’t pierce them…”

“Darling, never suggest to pierce the ears of the elf, it’s fucking painful.”

“But are there other ways? Without damaging the skin?”

He shrugs. “Never found anything proper I guess.”

He softly touches your finger and you understand he’s signaling you to stop. You press Astarion tighter.

You sit like that for a while in silence before you make yourself return to reality.

“I need to go to the town to see if they have some job for us.”

“I doubt it. We’d better return to the road at sunset,"he said.

“Yeah, this place is unbelievably peaceful.”

“I would say boring”, he takes out a book from his sack and you recognize Gnim, the language of the gnomes. Noticing your stare, he chuckles. “I prefer to know the enemy.”

You kiss Astarion’s cheek and leave the tent.

The town looks sleepy as if its residents exist in some weird world without troubles and worries. The townsfolk look at you with suspicion. Adventurers are rarely guests since there's almost nothing to do.

You ask here and there about a job, but as Astarion said there is nothing to be found. No troubles. No dangers. No reward.

Suddenly something catches your eye: a small building different in style from the rest of the houses. It is more elegant, with intricate runes on the wooden door.

Elven.

You enter carefully, opening the door as if you are afraid you may break it,

It’s a Jewelry store.

There are dozens of rings, necklaces, and bracelets. They are simple and delicate, but you just can’t take your eyes off them.

“Do you want anything?” A golden-haired elven woman waves her hand over the adornments. “Maybe for yourself?”

You shake your head. “I wouldn’t want to wear such things on the road. I will either break them or lose them.”

“Pity. Maybe for someone you care about?”

Astarion would love something like that. No matter what happened to him, he is still an elf. Nothing will ever change it.

“Yes...” You say with some hesitation. “What do elves put on their ears?”

The woman smiles. “We wear ear cuffs. Like these”, she points at her own ear, showing a golden adornment that looks like flowers. “You want a gift for an elf, don’t you?”

You nod.

“Can I ask what kind of bond you share?”

You blush a bit and the elf smiles again. “It’s not an idle question. Elven culture is very complicated”.

“He is my… love.”

She points at the ear cuffs. “Then, this. Only lovers can give such things to each other. Received from a friend or, worse, a stranger, would be considered an insult.”

“Why so?”

“Oh, poor N'Tel'Quess. So bad of him not to tell you such important things.”

You pretend not to understand that the word she’s used is an insult. You speak some Elven.

“And how important is that?”

“Have you wondered why elves don’t like their ears being touched?”

“Because it hurts?”

Her laughter sounds like bells chiming. “The same way lovemaking hurts when nonconsensual.”

Fuck.

“It’s intimate. Even lovers sometimes don’t do it because they don’t fully trust each other. We allow this only to our aestara, our thiramina.For us, it’s a form of sex. But even regular sex might be less intimate. So, tell me, does he allow you to do that?”

“He did let me do this… today. For the first time. ”

“Then, give him an ear cuff. Choose.”

They all look equally beautiful and you try to picture Astarion wearing them but nothing is quite him. There are smaller and larger ones, golden and silver. Some resemble flowers, and some are more like stars.

Noticing your confusion, the shopkeeper sighs.

“Tell me about him.”

“He… is very kind. To me, at least. Very brave, but never admits it even to himself. He is smart, can learn a whole new language within a week, and can persuade people to do anything he needs. He can do a lot of things with his hands – embroidery, lock picking, you name it. But… he’s been through a lot. His past is very dark and he is still overcoming it, learning how to be with people, how to live this life.”

You carefully avoid details, trying to sound as vague as possible.

“It’s called srinna. The one who tests limits and establishes new boundaries.”

“Yes, it does sound like him”

The woman hands you a metallic ear cuff. It is simpler than the others but you notice small details like crescents and birds. It will look nice with his curls, you think.

You pay and as you leave the elf laughs again. “If I were you, I would scold him!”

You return to the camp at sunset. Astarion is still inside the tent engrossed in the book. He hasn’t been through too many pages. Gnim is difficult for someone who can’t stand its speakers.

Astarion smiles joyfully as he notices you. He always looks like this when you return. Pure happiness.

“So was I right about these peaceful people?”

“Yes. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t I tell you what?”

“About your ears! The elven jeweler gave me a lecture about them! You could have at least explained this to me before I embarrassed myself!”

He disarms you with his puppy eyes. They say: ‘Oh, darling, you can’t be really angry with me, can you?’

“Stop making that face. You know I can’t resist it!”

Astarion sighs. “My apologies. Never really took it into account. But yes, touching ears is a form of showing affection.”

You take out the ear cuff and hold it out to him “I’ve brought a gift for you.”

Astarion puts the book away and takes the cuff. He is silent and you are afraid he doesn’t like it.

“Srinna”, he says. “The one who establishes boundaries. Thank you”, Astarion doesn’t try to laugh it away or mask his emotions. His smile is goofy and sincere; he rarely shows it even to you.

“Put it on!” you encourage him. “I want to see how it looks!”

“You’ve given it to me. You must put it on, not me.”

You lean to Astarion and carefully adjust the adornment to his left ear. To your surprise, it fits perfectly and doesn’t show any indication it can fall off. You think it must be easier to lose regular earrings than elven cuffs.

“How does it look?” he asks.

“Gorgeous.”

He cups your cheeks and kisses you. You feel like floating, forgetting about everything. You touch his ears and caress them with your fingers. Then he lets you go and presses his forehead against yours. “Salen arivae.”

“Salen means ‘my’, what does “arivae” mean?”

“Sunshine”, he answers after a short pause.

Seldarine - Gods! N'Tel'Quess - not people. A derogatory term referring to non-elves. Aestar- love Thiramin - soulmate

Tag list

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion fluff #astarion ancunin #astarion fics #astarion x reader #astarion fanfic #spacebarbarian fics #dnd elves #astarion headcanon #astarion gn!reader #astarion x you

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