#astarion x reincarnated reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fl3shm4id3n · 8 months

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ₜₕₑ Fₐcₑ ᵢ ₗₒᵥₑd ₘₒₛₜ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐨, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 '𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞' 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀꜱᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇɪɴᴄᴀʀɴᴀᴛᴇᴅ! ᴛᴀᴠ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: Star-crossed lovers concept, unhealthy obsession, mentions of passed abused, reality confusion/ Dream-reality, she/her refer to reader's past life self, slow burn?, a bit of angst and comfort. Not edited.

A/N: I hope ya'll like this second part, any feed back is appreciated.

Masterlist

He couldn't believe it, the myths about reincarnation were true. You, who was once his Lady, his once Lover, of Her. You were right here, except you were a totally different person. But with the face he once loved most. The face he couldn't ever forget. As much as he wanted to be happy to meet you again. He felt a huge amount of guilt. That he couldn't protect his Lady. That if he were to be in the quarters sooner, then he would have prevented Cazador from killing you. It would eat him up so much, he just began to ignore that guilt, even thought he didn't want to.

Astarion was very observant about you, he would pay attention to every small detail of you. How kind you were despite the tadpole in your head. He also noticed the love you had for music and embroidery. Yes, you were just like her. You shared her same traits. Not only that, but you were just beautiful, you shared her same beauty. Both inside and out. He couldn't keep his eyes off you. Astarion had the idea to always have his eyes on you. He didn't want anything to happen to you, even though you knew how to defend yourself. Just the thought of you getting killed gets to him. He didn't take it to an extreme, but he just wanted to keep his guard up.

Whenever he'd have a chance to be alone with you, he'd take it. Always making the time for it, as if he didn't want to be away from you. Ever. He was there when you were given a lute after you helped a lady with her music. He loved to watch you play the instrument. He wouldn't mind listening you for hours, playing that lovely music. When he'd watch you play, you looked just like her when she did. You seemed much more relaxed when playing, your hands weren't shaking as if you were being forced with fear, your fingers bleeding and nails broken. You looked absolutely stunning, she looked absolutely beautiful.

Not only that, but he'd watch you sew. When there was not much to do. You'd sew in your free time. You had some materials in your stuff. Astarion would lurk by and watch you do your handy work. It was beautiful, you were as talented as she was. He remembers when you had found a black velvet coat that would fit him perfectly, so you decided to embryoid him some gold colored peacocks and other kinds of designs on the coat. He loved it. He swore that he'd cherish the garment for the rest of his life. The smile on your face made him happy, specially since you had her same smile.

Another thing that he had caught on. The mark on your left side of the neck. It was two little dark spots, right where the bite would have been. He always wanted to get a better look at it. He knew that she hated that scar, because it was a form of branding by Him. But now it was a birthmark of yours. Proving that you were really her. His one and only love.

It was no secret to you that Astarion was basically following you around like a lost puppy. At first you thought it was harmless, but the more you thought of it, the more you realized that this was becoming something than just a man trying to be friends with you. Did he want to be more than friends? You have noticed his strange behavior towards you, as if, you reminded him of someone he used to know. As weird as it seemed, you didn't want to be seen as rude towards him, but you also knew that there was more than just him following you around.

"Astarion? Can I talk to you?" you asked the male who was busy looking at himself in a mirror, which was odd of him to do. "Sure, what is it darling." He gave you his full attention. You grabbed his hand and took him away from the camp and into the woods. He had a goofy grin on his face, as if we were about to do more than just talk. When you were in the woods, face to face with him. "What's been on your mind lightly?" you asked him, in which he gave you a confused look. "What are you talking about? I'm completely fine." He said, now getting nervous of what you were about to say.

You sighed. "There is something that is wrong, ever since we met, you've just been tagging along with me. I don't mind at all, but I know that there is something going on." You explained, Astarion felt frozen, you've caught on. Now he'll have to confess to you why he's been acting the way that he has. He didn't know how to break it to you, how to tell you that you're the reincarnation of his once love of his life. Will you hate him? Will you drive a wooden stake into his heart? What would you do? "Astarion? Please tell me what's wrong, I'm willing to listen to you" You encouraged him, now getting worried.

He couldn't hide it anymore, he had to confess to you. Astarion let out a loud sigh as he rubbed his face with both hands. Then he looked at you. "This is going to be weird, but... You, you used to be the woman I fell in love with centuries ago." He confessed, making you raise your brows at him in surprised. You watched how he took out a small piece of paper from his shirt, then he handed it to you. You took the small parchment paper, it was old, but still remained together. Opening the paper, you saw the picture of a woman. Except this woman looks just like you. But she was dressed like a noble woman. Her hair was up adorned with flowers and other hairpins. Earrings and with a slight hint of what you assumed was makeup. She looked beautiful, it was almost as if you were staring at a picture of yourself.

"That woman, she was you in past." He added, you heard the sadness in his voice. You looked at him, seen the sad look in his eyes. You only nodded, looking back at the picture of your past life. "I understand now. Why you've grown some interest in me and why you're always so protective." You said while looking at the drawing. "I knew I should have done something, I wished I was there sooner that you wouldn't of died." Astarion whimpered out. In the verge of tears. You got close to him, putting the picture back in his shirt and you placed your hands on his cheeks. "It's okay, it's not your fault." You tried to explained to him. "But it was, you got killed and I wasn't there." He cried out, tears rolling down his cheeks.

You cleaned his tears with your thumbs, as he began to sob in sadness. "Astarion, Its not your fault." You said comfortingly. All Astarion could do was cry. "It's not your fault." You explained to him, then he fell to his knees, still in tears. "It's not your fault." You repeated as you hugged him close to your stomach as his arms wrapped his arms around your waist. "It's not your fault." You said again, stroking his soft hair. All he could do was cry, this guilt has been eating him up for days. He felt as if he was dying. He finally got to be able to express his feelings. As much as he didn't want to be seen like this, he just couldn't help it.

"I'm sure that she would've understood. She knows that you would have done anything to protect her." You tried to reason with him, but he was still in denial. "I would have done anything to save you. To make sure that you were safe from him." He said, as he continued to sob. As much as you didn't want to disappoint him, you just had to. For his sake. "I'm not her." You said to him, this made him look up at you. His eyes were red swollen red and filled in tears. You gave him a sadden look. "You're not her?" H asked, almost confused. "I'm not her." You told him more sternly. The more he looked at you, the more of her appearance began to fade. He began to see less of her and more of you. Yeah you might have shared the same face, but you had your own features.

Your small facial scars were more visible, the shape of your nose was way more different than hers, as well as the shape of your face, and hair. But what didn't really change were your age, except the color of them. They were alive then they were did. The more he looked at you, the more changes he saw of you. You were right, you weren't her, anymore. You were you. Astarion got up from the dirt floor, still looking at you in the eyes, with tears still remaining in his eyes. "I see now, you're not her. At least not anymore." He told you. He sighed, wiping his tears away. "I need some time to think." He said, giving you a small smile. You gave him a small smile in return. Then he turned away, leaving deeper into the woods.

Once alone, Astarion was sitting near a riverbank, thinking about what just happened. He was too blind to see, he was asphyxiated of the thought of you being her. You were, once, but now you weren't. You were a completely different person and it took him forever to realize that. It felt refreshing. He no longer felt that huge amount of guilt he had build up, but that wasn't it. He needed to do something else to completely be free from the guilt.

Back at the camp, everyone was asleep, except for you and him. You were both standing in front of the bonfire. "Are you sure you'll do it? You don't have to if you don't want to." You told him. Astarion was holding the old picture. "No, I have to. Or else I'll never truly be free from this guilt." He said, as if a lump grew in his throat. You only nodded. Then without thinking twice, he threw the small paper at the fire. Slowly burning away, the once parchment paper had now become ashes. You saw the look of hurt in his eyes, but you knew that he was doing what was best for himself, for once.

Days had passed since that night, Astarion felt all kinds of relief. He no longer felt a heavy weight on his shoulders. He felt much more lighter than most days. He also felt new emotions. More much happier and relaxed. He hasn't felt like in centuries. He felt happy despite Cazador being after him. He thought back of that night where he got a reality check from you. He felt grateful that you had helped him with this. Not only that, but he began to see you. He no longer saw her face, he saw your face. As if it were bran new face he's never seen in his life. That was a good sign. He didn't completely forget of her, but he knew that she would have wanted for him to move on and be happy with someone else.

He had stopped comparing you to her. That meant that he no longer felt the guilt that he had been feeling for decades. Everything that you did, felt new, as if he had never seen someone do the things you did for years. He saw you in a bran new light. Everything about you had began to fascinate him more than ever. But what caught his attention the most was the way you treated those around you, how you were willing to help those in need of helping. But he also saw how kindness wasn't always the answer, and violence would often had to play a role in some situations. You were just an incredible human being. The only person who had somewhat stored his faith in humanity.

Astarion had fallen in love with you, again, but instead of your past life. He was falling for you, and hard. It no longer felt like an obsession as before, but real love. The problem was, that he had no idea what to do with his new found feelings. He had forgot how that feeling felt like many years ago. But he was willing to learn again.

"Do you have a moment dear? I'd like to speak with you" Astarion got your attention, you nodded and looked right back at him. "What is it?" You asked him, seen the small blush on his cheeks. "I know we didn't have a good start, but. Since that night, I began to grow these new feelings towards you." He explained. "Now I see you, for you. I no longer see her, but you. You're.... you're incredible. You deserve a lot, well at least to me. I would like for something... for us to start something new, something real. But I understand that you wouldn't want to be with me, after what happened in the past." He admitted.

You couldn't help but give him a small smile. "I do want something with you. I've liked you for the last couple months we were together, but I just didn't want our relationship to start with an unhealthy obsession. Because who knows what might have happened if it started that way." You explained. You saw the look of guilt her had, but he quickly added to the sentence. "But I've changed, I've realized that I fell in love with you. And I again, apologize for that, I really am." He said, you could hear the sound of his voice, how he was actually sorry and felt guilty for that. "I know you did. I trust you." You said, then you took his hand into yours. Feeling his cold skin against your warmth.

Astarion couldn't help but smile, taking both your hands into his. Feeling your warm embrace. "I... like this." He said, with an almost shy smile. "But, I honestly don't know what we're doing." He said with a small chuckle. "I know where we could start." You said with a smile. "Oh? And what would that be?" he asked with a grin. Then you got close to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. Astarion's arms were spread. Not sure on how to react, but he followed your lead. Also hugging you back, pulling you as close as possible to him. It felt good, being able to move from the guilt, to fall in love again.

ₚᵣₑᵥᵢₒᵤₛ ₚₐᵣₜ, ₙₑₓₜ ₚₐᵣₜ?

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cheesy-cryptid · 9 months

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“ have we met before ? “

Goodness i dont know what to call this au 😭 Maybe it’s hundreds of years in to the future? Maybe Astarion meets Tav again after so much time has passed

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frantic-fiction · 5 months

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I'll Find My Way Back to You

(Can't find source of pic if it's yours let me know)

Astarion x GN!Reader

Prompt: A century after Tav passes Astarion comes across an artist who is oddly familiar and paints moments that seemed to be pulled straight from Astarion's life.

Thank you to @justporo for letting me use their idea. Go show them some love.

Warnings: Tav's death, brief mention of s*icide, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 4.6k (Oops kinda went overboard)

Masterlist

“There’s no world I wish to live in without you,”

“My dear Astarion, we will find our way back to each other. This is not the end.”

Over a century has passed—a long, lonely century without Tav by his side. Astarion doesn’t understand how he’s endured, not with the void in his chest that appeared the moment he laid them to rest. The absence of his person, his love, his Tav, has left Astarion once again alone.

For nearly a decade, he found himself trapped in a state of near-catatonia, a prisoner of time within their empty home. He wasted away, the days blending into one another, each marked by a silent ache in his chest—the void left by Tav’s departure. Tears soaked into the earth of the carefully tended grave, adorned with vibrant flowers from Tav’s garden. He often contemplated surrendering to the sun’s embrace, letting its rays turn his existence to ash for a semblance of peace.

He yearned to end the pain, yet he refrained. He made a promise whispered with heavy hearts and painful sobs—a promise that forced them to confront the harsh reality that Tav would always leave first. Instead of embracing the end, Astarion wasted away, a ghost of his former self, yearning for the return of his love. Change arrived when Tav visited him in a dream; the details were blurry, but Tav’s beautiful smile was etched in memory. The sweet words in that dream eluded him, yet upon waking, a faint lightness settled within him. Astarion graced the night with a flicker of energy for the first time since Tav’s passing.

Tav would have wished for him to move on. They would have wanted him to live. The stagnant life he clung to wasn’t what Tav would want for him. So that day, Astarion gathered his essentials into a bag and set forth as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. Only momentarily stopping to bid his love a final, tearful farewell. Since that moment, he hasn’t stopped moving.

Astarion believed Tav would take pride in the life he’s built—the good he’s accomplished over the many years. He traversed all over Faerun, from Waterdeep to Skull Crag, never lingering in one place for too long. He wasn’t the hero Tav was, but he aided towns against monsters, dispatched goblins, and took odd jobs to help however he could. Throughout his travels, he dedicated most of his time to sharing stories of Tav, ensuring their memory lived on. When he first heard the bards’ songs recounting the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, he knew he had succeeded. Now, you can’t sit in a tavern without hearing tales and melodies about Tav.

Every day, he longed for Tav to be by his side. He yearned to feel their soft skin, experience their tender kisses, and sense their warm arms encircling his waist—the echo of their laughter dancing in his ears. He missed every aspect of Tav and would do anything to see them again. Yet, the world ran out of miracles for him. Instead, he learned with time to cope, to come to terms with their absence, and keep them close to his heart.

***

Astarion traverses the dusty cobblestone of Wyrm’s Crossing and finds himself back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate—a city he’s consciously avoided for most of the century. It’s a place drenched in memories from his past life with Cazador, but mostly, the streets seem to be haunted by the presence of Tav.

His return to Baldur’s Gate remains shrouded in mystery. All he can discern is that he awoke one day in Daggerford, gripped by an inexplicable yearning to revisit the city. A compelling force tugging him down the Sword Coast, Astarion initially dismissed it as mere homesickness, scoffing at the notion. Yet, the persistent thought lingered, infesting his mind until he could no longer ignore the instinct to return.

The city remains strikingly unaltered despite the passage of time and the trials it endured. The same piss-stained cobblestone, alleyways cluttered with remnants of urban life, and a diverse array of inhabitants navigating the night. It’s an unsettling constant, especially juxtaposed against the transformation of Astarion’s existence.

Wandering through the back alleys and side streets, Astarion meanders aimlessly. Occasionally, a sight triggers memories, evoking a lump in his throat. The Elfsong Tavern, once familiar, now bears a different name and identity, a formal establishment concealing the echoes of nights spent in Tav’s comforting embrace. Bloomride Park, the graveyard, and the docks—all weave together, painting a vivid tapestry of Tav’s omnipresence.

Amidst the tumult of emotions, Astarion grapples with why he subjected himself to this emotional turmoil. The urge to retreat, to flee Baldur’s Gate before the dawn breaks, lingers within him. Yet, the itch persists, buried deep within his bones, propelling him forward. He silently promises himself the night to wander the city, and by this time tomorrow, he will be on his way to another town for another adventure.

Venturing into a dim, isolated street, Astarion observes a solitary lamplight spilling its soft glow from a store window. Peering through, he discovers a small art studio. Within, a graceful elf seems to dance with a paintbrush, each stroke deliberate yet flowing. Like a harpie song, Astarion is mesmerized and utterly captivated. He watches on silently, observing the elves happily consumed with their work. It gives him a wave of nostalgia, moments of watching Tav as they painted, unaware he was watching from the door. Astarion could almost hear the sweet hums that filled the room between brush strokes.

Then he freezes, gaze snapping to the paintings that adorn the studio, scattered reflections of his life. Images of Karlach, Shadowheart, and all the others grace the space. However, it’s the depictions of himself that seize his breath. Compelled by an unseen force, Astarion walks right into the studio. In a far corner, he sees an intimate portrayal—an embrace that resonates with familiarity.

The bell rings, and you break from your artistic trance. Startled, you look up, and there stands the pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves. Startled, you look up, and there stands a pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves.

The dreams began as mere fragments—white curls, sharp teeth, delicate hands. Gradually, they evolved into more vivid scenes—muffled conversations by a campfire, laughter and gentle shoves, and stolen kisses between bed sheets—private moments of a stranger, a byproduct of an active imagination intertwined with an elven crush. Or at least that was what your mother would say. Now, the subject of those dreams stands before you.

Astarion, surrounded by the art that mirrors his life, fixates on a miniature portrait. The details are hazy, yet he recalls the campfire, the desperation in his gaze, and a significant confession followed by an embrace.

You pick up a fallen brush with a trembling hand, placing it in a water cup. Asterion was just as breathtakingly beautiful as your dream portrayed, but to see him in person has your heart hammering in your chest and your breath quickening with nerves. Wiping paint-covered hands on your smock, you took a deep breath and gathered the courage to approach Astarion.

Staring at the portrait, you utter quietly, “This one’s my favorite. Though I wish I could have captured the others’ images better.”

“Tav.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The person you painted. My partner Tav, they used to paint too,” Astarion’s voice carries the weight of unspoken emotions.

“Oh, yes. They were the leader of your group, if I remember correctly. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Astarion remains silent, the canvas now a source of unbearable memories. He moves through the studio, examining the art up close. It’s weird to have your muse perusing around your gallery. It’s embarrassing to have Astarion see just how many pieces have been dedicated to him. What do you do at this point? Should you follow him, tell him about each piece and the dreams behind them? No, that seems pretentious, so you retreat to the canvas you’ve been working on for the better part of the week.

This piece was different—a symbol rather than a person or scene. Rings of unknown runes fan out in jagged edges, evoking a sense of beauty tinged with profound sadness. It disturbed you to your core, but you needed to paint it. It’s how it always goes. Once a dream pops into your head, whether it’s a scene, a person, or a symbol, it refuses to leave until you’ve laid it on a canvas. Picking up the brush, you dip it back into the red paint and continue to bolden the lines.

“Who are you?” Astarion’s voice is right behind you; you jump, knocking a pot of paint over. Cursing softly, you quickly right the pot, attempting to salvage the spilled paint. Paint isn’t cheap, and in your non-upper-class circumstances, every drop is precious.

“Oh, I’m sorry; I have been very rude,” you offer your name. “I, of course, already know you, Astarion. It’s hard not to come across the tales of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate, but I guess—” Your rambling trails off pathetically as something changes in Astarion. There’s tension in his shoulders, a coldness in his eyes. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously play with a loose thread on the smock.

Astarion scrutinizes you with a piercing gaze, his eyes lingering on your face as if searching for hidden truths. The air becomes taut, charged with an almost palpable intensity. Then, as if propelled by an unseen force, he reacts like a tightly wound rubber band snapping. Reaching out, he harshly pulls you to him, bearing his teeth at you. Your stomach drops, shocked by the aggression.

“Have you been following me? Stalking me?” His voice carries a storm of anger, his grip on your shoulders unyielding, the coldness of his touch akin to ice piercing through the fabric of your being. “Don’t lie to me because I’ve shown one person that fucking scar, and I buried them.”

Your heart races, fear coursing through your veins as you whimper a response, tears welling up in your eyes. “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry,”

“Don’t lie!”

“Please, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know; I have dreams; I don’t know why, b-but I dream of you,” your voice falters, and your vulnerability is laid bare. “I dream of you, your friends, and places I’ve never been. I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I promise.”

As abruptly as his hands seized you, they vanished, leaving you stumbling to your knees, unable to contain the torrent of tears streaming down your face. Curling in on yourself, you can’t stop the cries of apologies and promises of never picking up a brush again, of burning every last piece in the room.

Astarion looks down at you, his expression shifting from anger to a complex amalgamation of horror and something else—perhaps realization. Stepping away, he leaves you rooted to the spot. Your gaze fixed blankly out the window. Odd and conflicting emotions swirl within you—fear, confusion, longing?—all clashing fiercely. Amidst the tumult, one thought emerges with undeniable clarity—this won’t be the last time you see Astarion.

Astarion’s breaths come in ragged gasps as he runs through the barren streets, escaping the grasp of the haunting memories that threaten to consume him. His thoughts are a raging storm, and he pays no heed to the bewildered faces of those he rudely pushes past. The town of Rivington is a blur as he sprints through it, a desperate escape, picking a direction and refusing to stop until his body aches, halting only when the sun begins its ascent above the horizon.

In his frantic need to run, there was no consideration for shelter from the sun’s relentless rays. Mercifully, he stumbles upon an abandoned cave. Dry, dusty, and shrouded in darkness, it becomes his refuge. In a corner, he sinks slowly against the cool, rough wall to the ground, seeking solace in the obscurity.

Astarion pulls his knee to his chest, pressing his forehead against his crossed arms. Shaking and shivering, a stark contrast to the bitter summer heat enveloping the cave, he clings to his vulnerability. Eyes shut tight, jaw clenched, fingernails dig deep into his arms as if attempting to anchor himself in the reality that threatens to crumble around him.

Desperation claws at him, and he yearns for Tav. The desire to feel Tav’s warm embrace, hands crossing over his chest, pulling him close, torments him. He longs for the soft whispers of love and the gentle press of lips. Astarion can’t navigate this without Tav. He’s a mess, barely holding on, living each agonizing day, acutely aware that the best part of him is gone, and he can do nothing to reclaim it.

The cruelty of encountering such intimate moments from his past life with Tav wounds him deeply. These were moments meant for him and Tav alone. Realizing that a stranger could capture those cherished memories intended for one person alone turns his stomach.

Anger becomes a conduit for his overwhelming emotions, and the terrified look on the artist’s face is etched in his mind, an indelible scar on his conscience. Shame burns within him, a searing reminder of the boundaries he violated. Physically assaulting someone in their own space—what would Tav think of him now?

The artist adds another layer to Astarion’s confusion. The familiarity is uncanny—the excited calf raises, the almost-stumbles afterward, the nervous lip biting, puffed cheeks during deep concentration, and the mindless dancing when no one is watching. Every little thing the artist did mirrored Tav, and with all his memories physically displayed, Asterion finds himself lost in a sea of confusion. Why does this stranger resemble his love so deeply?

The bards’ tales of soulmates and reincarnation, once dismissed as mere children’s stories and fiction, now claw at the edges of Astarion’s consciousness. What if? What if Tav found their way back to him? Weirder things have happened in his long life, and the possibility plants a seed of hope within him.

Yet, he forcefully suppresses that hope. It won’t serve him, not now. Instead, he resolves to learn more. By nightfall, he returns to the city, catching the first boat to Waterdeep. After a day and some change, he stands outside the Wizards’ tower, resentment simmering as he contemplates turning to Gale, his best chance at answers.

A groan escapes Astarion as he hangs his head, and a series of knocks echo on the thick wooden door. “This better be worth it…”

The door swings open on its own into a dimly lit foyer. Astarion follows a familiar path, the cool air and faint scent of ancient tomes embracing him. He ascends the staircase with nostalgia and reluctance, each step echoing the countless times Tav and himself sought knowledge and assistance within these walls.

As he pushes open the study door, a scene unfolds before him. Gale is hunched over a worn scroll, graying hair ruffled, and a small pair of reading glasses set on the tip of his nose. The room is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, creating an intimate ambiance. Notes adorn the margins, evidence of Gale’s ceaseless quest for understanding.

Gale looks up, a broad, warm smile gracing his features, and Astarion is momentarily transported back to the times when this sage was only a joke he poked fun at across camp. Removing his reading glasses, Gale pushes up from his desk, an air of welcoming familiarity enveloping the room.

“Well, look who the tressym dragged in. How are you, Astarion?”

Astarion stiffens as he is pulled into a spontaneous hug by Gale. The embrace is both unexpected and oddly comforting, a physical manifestation of the genuine camaraderie they’ve shared through the years. Astarion, unaccustomed to such displays of affection, awkwardly pats Gale’s back before gently pulling away.

“I’m afraid I’ve been better.”

Gale’s eyes convey concern and understanding as he gestures for Astarion to sit. The worn chair creaks under the weight of memories and the weightier burden of Astarion’s troubled soul.

“Then sit down, my friend, and tell me how I can help.”

***

Days of tireless research and a network of favors exchanged between magical acquaintances have led them to a glimmer of hope. Though not expansive, the discovery hints at the possibility that souls entwined so tightly may have a magnetic pull toward each other. A pull is so strong that souls can find each other in different lifetimes. Tales have described soulmates experiencing memories from previous lifetimes together, but they were vague at best. The specific remains elusive, shrouded in mystery, yet it’s enough to kindle a spark of hope within Astarion’s lonely heart.

Gale, ever the bore, offers a gentle reminder, “Now, just remember, if you try to force feelings before—”

“I would never!” Astarion’s retort carries a venomous edge, an unspoken warning to watch his following words carefully. Gale raises his hands in defense.

“My point is the brain is a prickly thing. It’s best not to rush anything it’s not ready for.”

“Yes, yes, you have said this five times already. Would you please activate the portal? I have an apology to make.”

Anticipation hums in the air, a palpable energy that courses through Astarion. A fleeting smile graces his lips, and for a moment, the weight of his grief is replaced by a glimmer of life.

Looking at Astarion with a fondness born of shared trials, Gale responds, “Of course, Astarion.”

With a confident shake of his wrist, he activates the magical circle, and the room is bathed in a radiant glow of bright runes, their purple luminescence dancing in the semi-darkness.

Astarion steps toward the portal, his heart pulsating with trepidation and newfound hope. However, before crossing the threshold, he turns around to face Gale, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Gale. I will not forget this.”

“It was my pleasure. Now, I expect to meet this lovely artist sooner rather than later.” Gale’s parting words hang in the air, infused with the hope of rekindling a connection beyond the realms of understanding.

Back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion swiftly navigated the bustling streets, an air of anticipation accompanying him. His purpose was clear—to reach your studio and beg for your forgiveness. A brief pause along the way allowed him to acquire a small bundle of daisies, a spontaneous choice fueled by the memory of Tav’s fondness for these delicate blooms.

As Astarion approached the studio, a surge of uncertainty clawed at him. Hesitation gripped his every step, the shadow of fear etched across his features. The fear in your eyes during the last encounter was seared into his memory. Had his previous outburst irreparably damaged any chance of reconciliation? The conflicting forces of his desire to see you again and the instinct to flee wrestled within him. Yet, he pressed forward, forcing himself down the street, and there you stood.

The scene that greeted him was a chaotic masterpiece of colors. Paint adorned your cheeks and arms, a testament to the artistic fervor that consumed you. Your hair, a cascade of untamed strands, framed a face that mirrored both exhaustion and creative passion. Astarion had a sudden urge to brush the strands away and press a soft kiss to your cheek, something he often did with Tav.

Your weariness was palpable—shoulders slumped, eyes half-lidded. Perhaps, he pondered, he should postpone this encounter, allowing you the reprieve of rest. The realization that he might be the last person you wanted to see compelled Astarion to take a step back, an unspoken retreat.

But just as he moved to leave, your eyes jumped up to meet his, you froze mid-stroke, and Astarion couldn’t read your expression. He should go. Why did he think this was a good idea? He’s just about to run when you nod for him to come in. Obliging, Astarion found himself standing awkwardly within the studio; you went back to painting. Your brush danced across the canvas, applying a vibrant shade of blue in deliberate strokes. Astarion’s attempts to break the silence faltered, his words dissolving into the room’s stillness.

“What are you doing here, Astarion?” The steadiness in your voice pierced the calm. You tried to hold on to your anger for the man all week. But upon seeing him standing so lost on the street had your resolve crumbling. You can’t deny the mild excitement that fluttered through your veins upon seeing him again.

His voice, momentarily lost, found its way back. “I-I came here to apologize for last week. My behavior was deplorable, and I wish to make things right.”

A wry amusement flickered in your eyes as you evaluated the bouquet, now slightly worse for wear under his tight grip. “And you believe a bundle of broken daisies would win you my forgiveness?”

Astarion, caught off guard, looked down at the bruised bouquet. “Um…well, I was hoping for roses, but they were fresh out.”

A snort escaped you as you put down your paintbrush and approached him. A tentative touch on his forearm transferred the flowers from his grasp to yours, eliciting a shiver down his spine. The longing to reach out is strong, but Astarion holds still as you retreat.

Intently studying the daisies, you began to divide the bundle into two piles. Astarion watched silently, recognizing echoes of Tav’s essence reflected in your actions. While understanding that you were not Tav, the profound sorrow gripping his heart seemed to ease in your presence.

“Half,” you declared suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“Half of the daisies survived.”

“And where does that leave us?”

With a theatrical flair, you pondered the question, pacing the room. “That, good sir, is the question. What is my forgiveness worth? I did luck out; daisies are my favorite, so you’re a step farther than roses would have gotten you.”

Astarion, grasping the playful undertone, decided to play along. With a hand on his hips and a wicked smirk, he responded, “Well, I am a pretty lucky man. Now, please, I beg, what more can I do to gain your forgiveness?”

You hummed softly, tapping your chin. You keep Astarion in suspense for a moment before you suddenly turn to the man. “How about…I get dressed, you take me out to dinner, and we’ll go from there?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” The agreement hung in the air, a hope for something more lingering.

***

The dinner evolved into an evening stroll, a seamless transition from pleasant chatter to playful banter. It was an unexpected evening, but the time spent with Astarion was so easy, so familiar you didn’t want it to end. Reading about the saviors of Baldur’s Gate was intriguing, and dreaming of a vampiric elf held its allure, but nothing compared to the tangible presence of the real Astarion.

Astarion embodied the epitome of perfection – handsome, intelligent, and endowed with a wit that had you giggling all night. He was the quintessential gentleman, the embodiment of every mother’s hopeful wish for their child.

What started as a single date quickly snowballed into a series of enchanting encounters – one date led to two, then five, until you found yourself drawn into his orbit every week. The pace was exhilarating, and being around Astarion felt like being charged with an electric current. It was not just addictive; it was a whirlwind of happiness, and you couldn’t help but revel in it.

If one indulged in whimsical tales, the idea that Astarion might be your soulmate would have crossed your mind. His ability to read you so intimately sometimes felt like he delved into the depths of your mind.

The dreams persisted, evolving into a kaleidoscope of memories that intertwined your moments with Astarion and a phantom era where someone else shared his company. Astarion, at times, would cast glances at you as you transferred another dream to canvas, an anticipation lingering in his eyes. Despite his attempts, he couldn’t veil the disappointment when the visions resulted in nothing more than another painting adorning the wall.

Then, it occurred on a serene spring day, three years since Astarion first entered your studio. The sun had yet to set, and you found solace curled up with Astarion. Limbs tangled, chests pressed together, hands intertwined – a tableau of intimate connection. His cold nose nestled against the crook of your neck, his white curls playfully tickling your nose.

Behind your closed eyelids, soft images of a forest clearing unfolded – Astarion shirtless, beckoning you towards him. Something clicked, and suddenly, the foreign memories that greeted you each night became a mosaic of your own experiences. The floodgates opened, overwhelming you with a lifetime of moments – kisses beneath the stars, laughter resonating around a campfire, and heart-stopping close calls with death.

Astarion often spoke of Tav, a robust and kind soul who played a pivotal role in shaping him. He wouldn’t be who he is today without them. You now knew a bit better; yes, you had nudged him along the way, but his growth was his own, and you couldn’t be more proud. To think of the years he spent without you, the grief he must have had to push through. If the roles were reversed, you don’t believe you would have been strong enough to keep going.

Startled from his slumber, Astarion found your body descending upon his, your hand meeting his chest with firm slaps. “Stop you, little gremlin.” Groggily, he attempted to restrain you in a tender embrace. He was met with your swift departure from his lap. He heard the patter of your feet retreating from the bed.

“You are a bastard, Astarion!”

Fully alert and by your side instantly, “What did I do, my sweet?”

Worry etched into every crease of his face as he cupped your jaw, looking frantically into your eyes. You intertwined your fingers with his, your other hand reaching out to caress the skin of his hip. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Astarion scrutinized your face, his eyes delving deep into yours. The faintest furrow of his brows betrayed his thoughts. As if following an unspoken script, he pulled you in by the waist, foreheads gently meeting.

Glistening with unshed tears, Astarion whispered, “You remember?” His voice trembled.

“Yes… maybe it’s all still tangled. But yes, I remember Tav – well, I remember us.”

Astarion’s smile widened, his fangs peeking out, and his lips met yours in a heated kiss spinning the two of you around the room. It was a slow dance of lips as if Astarion had all the time in the cosmos to savor this moment. While you could quickly lose yourself in the embrace, you were privy to all his subtle tricks. You turned your face when he attempted to draw you back into the kiss.

“Gods, Astarion, for three years, you knew and never said anything. I’ve painted you for almost as long as I could wield a brush, and for three years, you knew why!” Another slap graced his chest, and tears trickled down your cheeks, eagerly wiped away by his thumbs.

“I wanted to, my love. The moment I realized I wanted to. But this couldn’t be rushed; you can’t rush the mind.”

“Star, I’m so sorry I took so long,”

“No, stop; you took as long as you needed to return to me.” His forehead rests against yours once more, and the room stands still for a moment. “What matters is you’re here, in my arms, and I’m not letting go anytime soon.”

A choked sob mingled with a chuckle, and you nuzzled closer into Astarion, hiding your face into his neck. “Gods, I love you, Astarion.”

“And I love you.”

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Okay loves, let me know what you think. I've been working on this for over a week and still find some sections I'm not all that happy with, but I want to move on to other pieces. Any and every interaction makes my day.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #reader insert #astarion imagine #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #fanfic #writing #soulmates #soulmate au #reincarnation #frantic fiction

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 8 months

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Tav: I know you’re deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are.

Astarion: *crying* It’s not a joke! I’m a legit snack.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #incorrect quotes #thinking about how elves reincarnate #and how astarion is effectively immortal #and astarion outliving tav only to find them again reincarnated #it’ll take a lot of time though #so…there’s the context for this stupid meme #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #the good place #astarion x evie

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comatosebunny09 · 7 months

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Inspired by @sserpente’s The Sunwalker’s Gift.

Imagine being a shopkeeper, selling heirlooms and antiques in a quaint mom-and-pop shop.

Business is incredibly slow. You find yourself flipping through the worn, deckled pages of a book, your chin cradled in your palm. There is nary a customer in sight. Not since that new, mainstream jewelry store popped up down the street.

You’re about to close up shop early to enjoy what’s left of the day—it’s lovely outside. Too pretty to be tucked between these browning walls. But the jangle of the store’s bell lures your attention to the door.

Finally.

You look up as you prepare to greet the store’s newest occupant. But you forget how to talk—forget how to breathe—rooted to the floor like a basilisk has petrified you.

He’s ethereal amid the sunbeams pouring into your tiny store. All wintry-skinned, thin, and tall, dark lenses perched on his sharp nose. Rounded cheeks, petal-pink lips, and foxlike features.

His hair is what entrances you. Swaying like snowflakes in the breeze, and you wonder if it’s as soft as the snow it resembles. Vaguely, you register it sifting through your fingers, smell it exuding the faintest hints of rosemary and firewood.

The stranger surveys your shop, one hand tucked in his pants pocket, the other holding onto an oversized coat. Even his stance is princely. Nothing captures his attention for too long as he peruses through your wares, feigning interest in your rickety things.

You suddenly feel insecure; small—he strikes a picturesque figure amid the dusty antiques lining your shelves. The store across the way would probably suit someone so devastatingly beautiful better.

Nevertheless, you remember how to speak. Square your shoulders, plastering on your most welcoming grin despite your nerves exploding like solar flares beneath your skin.

After smoothing out the wrinkles of your attire, you offer the customer a warm, rehearsed “Welcome!”

He perks up at the sound of your voice. Lips twitch into a half smile, silver brows lifting slightly. Your heart hiccups at the sight.

The stranger saunters towards the counter, carrying with him the scent of bergamot and brushed sage. It’s a homely scent. Somehow nostalgic as he leans towards you, tilting his shades down to ingest you with eyes the color of smoldering coals.

“Good afternoon, love,” he drawls, his accent thick with regality. The purr of it causes your body to flood with warmth. It’s almost dizzying, the ground shifting beneath your feet.

You swallow, your throat thickening with your voice. “What brings you in today?”

“Actually.” He looks thoughtful, a long finger tapping his chin. Suddenly, he snaps his fingers like all the world’s secrets bare themselves to him. “Maybe you can help me with something.”

You watch with bated breath whilst the stranger retrieves something from his coat pocket. It catches in the sunlight. Glints a pretty ruby red as he places it on the display counter with a resounding clack.

“I’ve been trying to part ways with the damned thing for ages. Yet somehow, it always finds its way back to me.” His gaze is far off for the barest of seconds before he replaces it with a nonchalant shrug, waggling his hand dismissively. “It’s long since served its purpose. An antique, if you will. I wondered how much it would go for if it still holds any value.”

He speaks of it so contemptuously. As if it’s been a burden to carry all this time. But it’s beautiful in its simplicity. Tarnished gold, carved with intricate runes you can’t quite decipher. It houses a gorgeous crimson stone that seems to hum and swirl with energy—with power. Perhaps it’s a trick of the light or your nerves causing you to hallucinate.

You’re delicate as you hold it against the sun’s rays, further studying its design. In your peripheral, you capture the stranger’s eyes, regarding you with something you can’t quite place. Disdain? Curiosity? Fondness? Whatever it is, it unnerves you. Makes your mouth fill with sand as you clutch the ring in your palm, intending to scrutinize it some more in the back. It radiates against your flesh despite it being so frigid.

“I’ll have to take a more thorough look at it,” you conclude, masking your shakiness. You muster another smile. “Would you like some tea in the meantime? It may take a while to appraise it properly.”

“No thank you, darling,” replies the fair-skinned stranger, leaning against your counter in an easy slouch. His smirk is back, boasting what you mistake for a fang, peeking through the plushness of his lips. “Never had a taste for the stuff.”

“Coffee your thing?”

“Gods no.”

“Water?”

He waves you off with a quiet scoff, venturing away to prod and examine the other little trinkets in your shop.

“Take all the time you need, love. I’ve nothing but time to spare. And, by the looks of it, so do you.” He eyes you over his shoulder with mirth gracing his countenance. A flash of affection colors his gaze before he busies himself again.

You huff a laugh at his peculiar mannerisms, disappearing behind the curtain of the back room to fetch your jewelers loupe. All the while, your mind swims with wistfulness.

You can't help but feel like the handsome stranger who’d fatefully wandered into your shop is watching you, burrowing deep into your soul, even through the thick veil of your curtain.

masterlist

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion bg3 #astarion x you #past lovers #soulmate au #reincarnated lovers #astarion imagine #astarion drabble

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bg-brainrot · 3 months

Text

"When He’s all but Forgotten How to Love Again" - Astarion x GN!Reader - Series Masterlist

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav for plot reasons)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, cw: blood, cw: Astarion's entire backstory, cw: sex, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Fluff, Grief, Mourning, Developing Relationship

Series WC: 113k words and ongoing, 21/?? chapters

Summary: An Elf-Tav reincarnation story where Reincarnated!Tav dreams about Astarion in their nightly reveries and eventually seeks him out once they reach maturity. Things definitely totally go well.

Author’s Notes: I'm bringing over some of my multi-chapter fics from AO3, so if you've already read this, ty!! I love you and appreciate you so much! I will continue to add chapters as I format them, but the full fic is available on AO3 here if you're feeling like a binge.

Heads up-- while there will be explicit moments, this is first and foremost focused on romantic tension and yearning, asking the question: 'Would you still love me if I was someone completely different?’ Explicit scenes will be few and far between and very much focused on their feelings. It’s essentially an established relationship slow burn?

This has unascended Astarion, “good” choices are made in the original timeline, Tav needs to be an elf for this to work, but otherwise no specifics on past Tav. Present day Tav is a magic-user.

Chapters:

Chapter 1: Knifes and Nightmares

At 12 years old, you first dream of the Pale Elf. The encounter scares you and sets you on your path forward.

Chapter 2: The Second Encounter with the Pale Elf

Nearly 19, you think you have a handle of your past lives. However, not all of your past lives are created equal.

Chapter 3: What it Means to Love

Now 29, you're still trying to piece together parts of your past. In particular, what exactly was your relationship with Astarion?

Chapter 4: In this Lifetime

Now 99-years-old, you've managed to ignore your worst impulses to run off to Baldur's Gate. One night's reverie finally breaks you.

Chapter 5: Guidance from a Druid

After finally setting off to find Astarion, you receive a confounding memory from your past life. Ignoring what it might mean, you focus on your task and visiting Halsin, one of your past-self's friends.

Chapter 6: The Man of your Dreams

You make your way toward Astarion, trying your best to prepare for the encounter to come.

Chapter 7: Just One Night

You plead your case to the vampire.

Chapter 8: Who You Have Become

You try to learn more of who Astarion's become, while also trying to convince him of who you were.

Chapter 9: Ghosts of You

After he storms off, you try to track Astarion down only to find yourself on a trip down memory lane. Once you do catch his trail, you’re surprised to see where he’s gone.

Chapter 10: Overheard in the Underdark

You traverse a new landscape, looking for Astarion. What you find might be more than you bargain for, and what you hear might be too much to handle.

Chapter 11: An Interrogation

You spend the night in vampire prison and have a difficult conversation.

Chapter 12: The Source of his Pain

As you aim to leave and never look back, Astarion realizes that perhaps *he's* the one that made the mistake.

Chapter 13: And They Were Roommates

You and Astarion try to find a common ground between you. Things are awkward and tentative, and progress is anything but linear.

Chapter 14: A Blossoming Friendship

Now in your second week of living together, you and Astarion have to get past some of the hurdles your first week introduced, all while getting a bit closer along the way.

Chapter 15: More than Friends Pt. 1

Push finally comes to shove. As fun as living in the present is, Astarion forgets that present dangers are still very, very real. Afterward, emotions run high, and you find yourself in a familiar predicament.

Chapter 16: More than Friends Pt. 2

After talking through the previous night's tryst, emotions are confused, pasts are divulged, and everything comes to a head when your heart and soul want different things.

Chapter 17: What We are Now

When you’re left to your own devices, you find yourself knee-deep in mystery. Despite all of this, Astarion never leaves your mind. And perhaps you never leave his.

Chapter 18: Traveling with a Friend

You and Astarion travel together to Waterdeep. Emotions run high as you reconnect and reestablish your boundaries.

Chapter 19: The Wizard’s Tower

After traveling through Waterdeep, you and Astarion finally arrive at Gale's tower. Introductions are made, tours are had, and the relationship between yourself and Astarion continues to remain complicated.

Chapter 20: Sweets and Shopping

After receiving some advice from Gale, you and Astarion spend the day shopping and talking through your friendship.

Chapter 21: Dansarra’s Delights

Your wizard friend gives you a nigh impossible task, and you spend the day trying to find your opening to complete it.

Chapter 22 - TBA

...

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion masterlist #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion #when he's all but forgotten how to love again #whabfhtla #reincarnation trope #elf!tav #astarion x you #astarion slowburn

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a-jynx · 7 months

Text

living lies

hello, darlings! this is the official pt 2. of buried promise! please remember this is reincarnated!Astarion, so, there's only a bit of likeliness! <3

so, i saw some comments about reincarnation for elves! of course, i went to my DM friend for research, and let's just say the info he gave me... is Too much power!

without further ado, i hope you enjoy living lies!

No one tells you about the world before you’re casted into it - screaming, crying, and fighting for your little life. Believing that what you are fighting for was the safety being ripped away from your shaking, bloodied hands.

No one warns you about the agony when you remember your past. The world you came from before.

They never explain just how… Scary, this world could be for someone new. But you’re not new, are you?

"Again," you grumbled, wiping at the blood weeping from your brow. "Let me try again." Your sword shook in your grasp as your mentor rolled his eyes, his lips in a tight frown.

"I've drawn blood." He stated, matter-of-factly. "I've won, you've lost. We'll continue our lesson tomorrow morning." You grit your teeth, tightening your grip around the handle, digging your foot into the earth before rushing him. Swinging the blade down and to the side, he easily evaded before grasping the steel with a stern grip. Your eyes bugged, curling your lips together as you pulled and yanked, but the steel just bit into his skin. Tearing and oozing his blood.

"Now, we both bleed, we've both lost-"

"If we were truly fighting- battling - you would be dead before even touching the dirt beneath my boot." He hissed, yanking your weapon away before throwing it to the side. You swallowed thickly, watching as his blood pooled by his boots. The dirt absorbed it, swallowing the blood and becoming a thick puddle. Your eyes shot to the mangled cut dancing across his calloused palm, the stream of blood dribbled and dripped down his clenched fist. Your eyes drew up his arm, following the flowing tunic sleeve that had been decorated by the small splatter of crimson.

"Aster, I-"

"Shut it. I warned you about your anger during this type of things," he sighed, flexing his battered palm before a gentle blue haze sizzled through his blood and torn flesh, smoothed together and left a hint of a scar across his calloused skin. "It'll get you killed." His hazel eyes darkened while meeting your glazed over eyes. Inhaling deeply, you savored the last droplets of his blood being soiled by the dirt below. It mocked you for not guzzling his blood like a drunk man on ale.

"Control yourself, darling," he rolled his eyes, moving past you and grabbing the abandoned sword. "Bloodthirst only looks good on you in battle." He turned back to you, tossing the stained sword towards you as you cleared your throat, catching it against the blade. Piercing your lips, you tossed the sword up and stared at the dried blood. His scent lingered on the metal, your eyes fluttered before looking to Aster through your lashes, a hint of a smile on your lips.

"I happen to think it looks good on me all the time, day or night-" you clicked your tongue, following close to him. His dark hair shined with the sunlight, tussled around from your training. His amber eyes glittered from the gentle rays, softer than usual. "Maybe so, but it'll get you killed if you cannot control it." He licked his lips, settling into his tent as you followed in.

"I've controlled it thus far,"

"With midnight frolicking with blood staining your hands and lips like some form of... Delicacy." Aster's voice grumbled low as you rolled your eyes, falling into the plush pillows of his tent. You frowned, staring at the elf in front of you. His form relaxed as he grazed over the books in hand. He always had a knack for reading...

"Depending on who I've slaughtered," you paused, sucking at your teeth in sweet remembrance of the taste that used to dance on your tongue. It could've resembled that of tart cherry wine... "Sometimes their screams were sweeter." You flashed a vision smile as Aster rolled his eyes, licking at his thumb before turning to the next page. You tilted your head, rereading the title - Past of the Death Lord, Bhaal - your God. Your blood. Your father.

"Why must you take such an interest in him," you whispered, crawling towards the distracted elf. Worming your way into his lap, fingers caressing the books' spine with a small smile. "He's considered that of a messy God."

Aster peered at you over the books' edge, his brow quirked at you before sighing, closing the book with a grunt. His nimble fingers carded through your hair, scratching at your scalp as you released an almost purr like sound. You had found each other lost within the walls of Baulder's Gate. The streets had grown, more people have moved in and called the kingdom their home. You fall amongst them.

Fresh Bhaal spawn. Hands shaking with greed to dirty them with some pitiful man's blood - to write Bhaal's name in their crimson ink. You used to control your hunger - your need for their blood to be spilled in your father's name, but now within these gates, you believed anyone would fall by your hand. Until you met Aster. Working to heal those around your non-official home, those who were lost amongst the streets of Baulder's Gate. He had seen you as a challenge - an adventure - that begged to be had. Aster saw the bloodlust in your eyes and the shake in your hands, he had to make you something... Better. He already knew of the illness that wrapped around your neck, threatening to hang you.

"Hello, darling," his voice teetered between sultry and warmth. You turned to him, caution rolled over you as your eyes ghosted over his figure, studying him. "You seem to be lost... Little Bhaal." Your eyes widen a bit, but you couldn't stop the grin that split your lips.

"I cannot decide if you're stupid or brave," your words seemed to curl around his throat, licking at his stampeding pulse. "Either way, you're thickskulled to speak of Bhaal so... Little like." You bit, moving closer and pressing your hand against his chest with a cheeky smile. Flashing your sharpened teeth. "You test waters that are rarely tested."

"I'm always looking for... New challenges." Aster spoke into the space you shared. Your breaths mingled as you inhaled, eyes fluttering at the scent of blood filtering through his skin. "You really are thick for wanting to challenge a," your voice lowered, pressing up until your noses bumped one another. "Little Bhaal."

Aster couldn't fight back his smile, his hands rested against your ribs, it felt.. Right to hold you. Caress your flesh, and kiss away your last breathe. You had just met, but it felt like you had known each other for another lifetime...

Your feet dragged across the dirt whilst the sun beat against your sweaty skin. Aster had you travelling to find some rare artifact - a ring? You couldn't be bothered to remember. Looking around you felt a twist in your chest, pulling you to the left as Aster stared at the map in hand. "Aster, come," you waved him, his eyes filtered to you with creased brows, yet he moved towards you. "There's something this way." You snatched his hand and tugged him behind you. Knocking down branches and tugging out your sword to cut away the ever-growing vines. A spell.. A concealment spell. A powerful one at that.

"You swore no magic," you hissed as Aster stepped forward, frowning at the thick vines that wrapped around one another, reconnecting before solidifying once more. "Well, pardon me for believing this would be a non-magical quest." Aster rolled his eyes, reaching into his pack and pulling out the small journal he had... Borrowed.

Only those who carry the Ancunin Lover's embrace may enter their well-loved domain.

Ancunin Lover's embrace..? Was that a different artifact altogether? Was that their only key to gain the Sunlight Walker's ring?

"Shit," Aster's voice grumbled as you moved closer to him, wrapping an arm around his bicep as you peered at the journal before you. "This doesn't make any sense." He hissed, dragging his nails across the words as if the pressure would cause them to jump and quiver.

"Ancunin Lover's? Was that who protected this place?" You quipped, gently taking the journal as Aster stared at the wall ahead, frowning. "They were the lovers' that lived here - hints to why it says those who have their embrace may enter. Astarion and Tav Ancunin,"

"The heroes of Baulder's Gate..?" Your eyes grazed over the pages, their names jumped at you from the pages. Your winced at the sharp pain that shot through your mind, causing you to drop the book in fear. Aster turned to you, rushing to your side as you dropped to the dirt below. "Darling, what's wrong?" His voice became warped, filtering in a new voice. You withered in his grasp, your eyes shot open and stared at the elf above you but... His dark chestnut hair became a bright white. His amber-colored eyes now bright, ruby-colored. And his... Fangs peeked out as he stared down at you.

"My love, breathe, tell me what's wrong-"

"Hurts." Your voice was not your own. Your body pressed further into his, cringing at the pain rattling your head. He leaned forward, pressing gentle kisses across your throat, traveling up to your cheek and knocking his forehead against yours.

"Shhh," his voice lulled, your eyes fluttered at the gentle noise. "It'll pass, my darling-"

"Darling wake up!" Your eyes snapped open, meeting the amber eyes you've grown fond of over the years. His arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders, carding through your hair. He shook against your figure. "By the Nine Hells, I thought you were dead!" He leaned back, staring into your eyes as you stared at him, agape.

"I saw him,"

"Saw who? Bhaal? Is your hunger becoming more-"

"No... No, I saw an elf? A vampiric elf? I'm not sure." Your voice stilled as Aster stared at you, his hands still tight around your shoulders. His brows creased as you slowly pushed up from the ground, his hands grabbing ahold of your outstretched hand and hip, his thumb brushing against your showing flesh. You walked together towards the wall of vines, some still squirming around and tightening as you approached. Your palm shook as it raised to the vines, Aster's palm resting on the back of your hand.

"Aeterna Amantes," the words left your lips before you knew what they meant. The vines halted and slowly peeled away, revealing an abandoned home. You sighed out a laugh as you walked in, tugging a bewildered Aster behind you.

The home creaked and groaned, shimmering vines curled and swayed across the old wood. Trees and wildflowers blew against the soft breeze, other than the vegetation taking control... The home looks intact. Taking your free hand, you brushed it against the soft wildflowers and tall grass, your bloodthirst seemed to dwindle... To burn away.

"Little Bhaal?" Aster murmured from behind you, one of his hands reached up, intertwining your fingers. Your eyes were glazed over, looking over the boards and cracks across the humble abode. Your heart clenched at the sight while your bottom lip trembled.

"Why... Why do I remember loving you?" Your voice shook, turning towards Aster as he frowned whilst shaking his head. "What?"

You face him, still holding each other close before swallowing thickly around the lump forming in your throat. Inhaling deeply, you looked back to the home with a look of sorrow. Pain. "This... Home. I remember it like we built this home yesterday. I remember building it alongside you, being in... In love. I was growing sick,"

"Darling, I... I don't know-"

"You have to feel it." You tightened your hand around his, your eyes watered as he stared into your eyes. His scarred palm reaching up and caressing your tear-stained cheek, his thumb rubbed the tears into your skin. You sighed into his skin, clenching your eyes shut as you saw another vision.

You see the white-haired elf, who you've marked up to be Astarion, laid out on a bed of silk. His fingertips grazing across your showing skin. Your own hands pet through his soft, white curls and tugs gently at the knots within his hair. Rain gently pelted the windows as you both breathed in one another's company. Astarion turned to face you, his eyes soft and glazed over. His fangs peaked out from his lips, showing a soft smile. "What is it, my Star?" Your voice whispered as he reached up, grabbing your hand that had messed with his hair. Pressing his lips against your knuckles, climbing further up your arm and brushing his lips against every inch of skin he could catch. Your giggles echoed, as he climbed up your body, pressing harder kisses against your throat, sucking gently.

"Star," your voice trembled with a moan as he smirked against your flesh, nipping gently at your scars. His bite mark. "Please." Your pleas fell to deaf ears as he sucked deeper hickeys against your skin before he loomed over you, caging you between his arms and the soft bed. Your heart pounded against your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, your fingers tangled into the hair at the base of his nape.

You jumped back to Aster, your body tossed to the ground as he held you close, cradling you into his chest. Sitting up, you pressed your hands to his chest, feeling heat roll into your cheeks as you stared at his widened eyes. "Astarion... Tav... Their memories, I can see them." You laughed with a shake, rolling off of his lap and quickly standing before running towards the house. Pressing your palm against the rotted wood, gasping as another vision shot across your mind.

Astarion crossed the yard with you held tight in his arms, tears were cascading down his cheeks while he walked. Darkness had swallowed you as you followed behind him, keeping close as you watched him stop by a cliff. Two holes dug; two gravestones prepared... No...

Falling back into your mind, you turned to Aster as he stood beside you, watching as you blinked with a smile. Grabbing his wrist, you tugged the Rogue behind you, running towards the cliff. Your feet slammed into the ground below, dirt kicking up as you ran. Sliding to a stop, you glanced around, more wildflowers bloomed around the cliffside.

"It's nearby, I know it is." You hissed, dropping his wrist as Aster stared as if you had grown two heads - perhaps three. "I can feel it, Aster!"

"What in the Hells are you talking about? You keep falling into these... Memories, as you call them, and come back with new ideas where we need to go! It's... Maddening to watch, to say the least." Aster scoffed, running a hand through his thick, chestnut-colored curls. His eyes shimmered, making you take a step closer. His amber-color glowed a soft... Red?

You reached up, grabbing his cheeks as he jumped, his cheeks and the tips of his ears heating up at the sudden touch. Dragging him closer, you tilted your head each way, studying his eyes as they shined in a soft ruby glow. Two colors seemed to dance in his irises. One for the present, one for the past. Licking your lips, you leaned close as your lips fell apart, barely touching his as a shaking breath left him.

"May I..?"

Aster swallowed thickly, another sigh leaving his parted lips. "Please." You pressed your rough lips against his. They moved in depth against one another, tasting each other. Lights swirled around the two of you as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands slithered down your hips, squeezing at the flesh there as you deeply groaned. You only pulled away at the burning in your lungs begged for air, your eyes fluttered open as Aster was already looking around. His eyes grew wide at the sight of Astarion sitting by the gravesite before you. He was grieving...

You pressed a finger to his lips as you both turned back to Astarion, watching as the sun rose and he removed his rings, shoving one into the dirt below and the other fell to the ground as his body became dust. Ashes.

You both gasped, falling away from each other, chests' heaving as Aster scrambled to his feet before his hand dove down, tugging you up with him. You both shoved through the tree limbs and vines hanging around the burial site. Skidding to a stop, you both leaned into each other, eyes wide and small smiles on your lips. The graves were still in... Prestine condition. No weathering, no tussled soil, no chips nor cracks within the homemade headstones.

"He... He buried Tav here, and then he-"

"Then, he died for them..." Aster's voice trembled, his fingers slowly inched towards yours, wrapping them together. "He had the Sunwalker's ring, and he gave up everything for them."

"They loved each other, Aster, I... And with the visions I saw, they treasured one another. I mean, he looked at them as if they had put the stars in the sky." You couldn't help but smile, slowly moving towards the graves. Settling beside the site, your fingers cradle the soft soil. Aster followed you, sitting beside where Astarion once stood.. The rings glistened in the soft sunlight. Aster sighed, his fingers gently tugging the Sunwalker's ring from the soil.

"Would... Would it be right for us to even take this?" He mumbled, studying the jewelry. The red gem glittered whilst the gold band shimmered with the incantation bestowed upon it. His skin shined from the small glow, you glanced towards him, a small smile on your lips. Aster looked at peace... Soft in the gentle sunlight. He himself looked gentle.

"Do you want it..? Or do we really need it?" Your voice was careful, glancing towards him as Aster sighed, rolling the ring between his slender fingers, before flicking it off of his thumb and catching it onto his other hand. He inhaled deeply, grabbing the ring again and pushing it into the earth, joining the other ring they had watched Astarion bury before them.

"We don't need it... And maybe, if we stay here," Aster's voice murmured, his eyes catching yours as you stared at one another. Breathing in the clear air, watching as Aster stood, holding out his hand to you. Curling your hands into his palm, you carefully stood, glancing to the burials below you. With a small smile, you reached down and plucked the wedding ring from Astarion's grave, holding it out to Aster.

"We could stay here... To protect the ring of course." You grinned as he smirked, nodding before reaching out, grasping the ring and carefully slipping it onto his ring finger. "Of course, we'll need to... Renovate the house though." He murmured, reaching up and tucking hair behind your pointed ear, grinning as he cupped your jaw.

"In a way... We're living lies, y'know?" You whisper, pressing your lips to his as he sighed, deepening the kiss easily. Your hands embedded themselves into his dark curls whilst his own hands rested against your hips, his thumbs rubbing against the showing skin. Your skin hummed as you replayed Astarion's movements from before.

"Maybe, but... I think we're living as their lies. We'll be living our truth." He whispered against your skin, pressing another sharp kiss to your jawline, his teeth nipping at your pulse. You meowled at the sensation, tilting your head back allowing his teeth to nip and his tongue to push against your pulse.

Aster and you chose to live through Astarion and Tav's lives. Using their last home, and memories to relive and help those who still needed it. You might've been living lies, but you were going to keep their buried promise.

#astarion #bg3 x reader #astarion x tav #reincarnation #reincarnated!astarion #reincarnated!tav #reincarnated!reader #part 2 #astarion x reader #astarion x dark urge #dark urge tav #astarion x you #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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aluneposting · 6 months

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except from a fic i might not finish

Gortash’s grip is tight around your wrist. Even as you try to escape, he pulls you back to into chest, back into his overwhelming embrace. The champagne in your glass spills onto the grass of the orangery. People are staring, and you flush with anger. ‘Let me go,’ you say, tugging on your arm. Gortash smiles at you with a knowing, fond grin. ‘Come now, we have so much history,’ he murmurs, leaning forward until you’re almost nose to nose. ‘It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.’ But then someone is sliding an arm around your waist as if they heard your silent prayers. They pull you away from Gortash and he only releases your arm to not cause more trouble. You look up, startled, and see the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen before. An angel of vengeance. Pale hair, sharp eyes — and a dangerous grin. He tucks you against his side, and you stumble behind him slightly, your cheek pressing to his shoulder. You hold your drink to your chest defensively. ‘There you are, my dear,’ Astarion says smoothly. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #TYPE:#* ― ˚ ⁀ ⪩⪨ ― ﹕ personal ( fic excerpts ) .ᐟ #this was originally part of reincarnation au #but i keep changing my mind on how to proceed...#anyway the idea of astarion rescuing you is very Howl Pendragon coded

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bloodsoeur · 4 months

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˗ˏˋ i'm dal - she/‎‎‎her. 23. ˎˊ˗ astarion x reader content • 18+ only, minors dni! ‎‏‏‎ ꙳⊹ ﾟ⋆ • about me • ko-fi • ao3 • my caps • © BLOODSOEUR. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works.

butter gn!reader, 2.5k you and the vampire spend a short gloaming sun discussing marriage

both free gn!reader, 2.1k you reject bhaal’s greatest gift - to this, your horrified love bears witness

one mine, both yours bard gn!reader, 1.6k astarion’s habit of visiting your tent leads him to your hidden pile of sonnets

the shepherd, the black sheep gn!reader, 2k a plummet into a chasm leaves you and your light-fingered friend stuck. together, you wonder if you’ll ever emerge again.

sylvan gn!reader, 2.8k a chance series of encounters in youth come together on one night, where everything just clicks for Astarion and his unicorn.

the sunwalker's gift gn!reader, 3.3k you find a ring - after a lot of searching - that allows astarion to walk in the sun, and propose with it.

gush fem!reader, 2.2k (NSFW) it rains. you swindle some wine and astarion cums in his breeches.

oh, mother fem!reader, 3.3k (NSFW) it’s the mummy fic.

lifeblood fem!reader, 2.5k (NSFW) astarion discovers an aphrodisiac during a trip to the night market, and only one thing is on his mind.

ivory tower fem!reader x ascended!astarion, 4.6k (NSFW) you're still mortal, and there's good reason for it.

warming fem!reader 1.2k (NSFW) early morning feeding and cockwarming because i said so.

swell fem!reader 1.9k (NSFW) feral pregnant sex with the elf. inspired by this NSFW piece by the ridiculously talented @mutualcombat.

leeches girl!dadstarion, <1k astarion and his daughter have a spat.

little love girl!dadstarion, <1k dadstarion watches dhampling sleep.

bramble jam girl!dadstarion, <1k “In what realm would we need this much jam?”

the gate girl!dadstarion, 1.5k astarion is a school-gate dilf on his first pick-up adventure with you.

sunburn girl!dadstarion, <1k dhampling gets sunburnt!

introducing the siblings girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) "I had this image in my mind of him introducing the older girls to their new baby sister each time and just being sweet and cute"

breakfast girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) astarion trying to make breakfast for the growing brood while tav/reader is like, "my love, you wanted this"

bump dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) astarion being a lil shit and causing more kicks talking to and touching tav's baby bump as tav tries to rest?

stretch marks dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) Imagine a tav who’s really insecure about these marks [...] and when they bring it up to astarion he decides the best course of action is to show them how much he loves them.

snuggles dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) when tav is pregnant astarion would love snuggling up to their baby bump - curling around them and listening for signs of their little one

shallow bites girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) "I think it would be really funny if astarion and tav’s daughter was practicing her bites and pickpocketing on the two of them, respectively. [...] No ancunín is going to grow up being a half-rate pickpocket!"

hugs from behind dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) "hugging the other from behind" from this list of prompts with astarion hugging his very tall, very pregnant wife from behind because I think the image of it is so cute.

tiefling tav showing affection via their tail tief!reader (inbox prompt)

valentine's day with astarion gn!reader (inbox prompt)

earthbound astarion x earth!born reader (inbox prompt) "how do you think astarion would handle a tav who is actually from earth and is going to return home after defeating the netherbrain?"

reunited astarion x earth!born reader (inbox prompt) "a follow-up to earth tav somehow reuniting with astarion, via reincarnation or another divine intervention"

patience gn!reader (inbox prompt) "hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" from the one-liners list"

baking gn!reader (inbox prompt) "ASTARION GETTING INTO BAKING AND ASKING YOU TO SAMPLE ALL OF HIS BAKES"

thulsun fem!reader, not tav! 3.7k (NSFW) under rework! astarion appears at your parlour one evening in a cloud of smoked bergamot and the briefest hint of spunk, and it becomes oh-so difficult to watch him leave.

three, minimum fem!reader, 4.3k (NSFW) astarion has been planning, for the first time in his life. He wants babies.

nought point five fem!reader, 4.7k (NSFW) seven months along, he’s besotted with every pregnant piece of you.

one fem!reader, 2k astarion is a newly-minted girldad. that’s it. that’s the plot.

one more fem!reader, 2.9k (NSFW) your home is quaint. astarion continues to insist it isn’t busy enough.

(astarion x fem!reader au, NSFW) he's a potwasher. you want to fuck the potwasher. this started as a joke and now i'm obsessed. enjoy.

one two

#pinned post #blog intro #astarion x reader #bg3 #my writing #masterlist

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writing-fanics · 9 months

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omg! omg! Modern Au! Astarion x reader

where he meets the reincarnation of his past lover after so long. idk why but I’m imagining them playing the board game version of DND and Astarion just pointing out all the inaccuracies. the entire campaign.

or he’s getting a whatever caffeinated drink from a coffee shop and bumps onto them while they’re sitting at one of the tables working on a novel about dreams of their past life

#dungeons and dragons #baldurs gate iii #astarion x reader

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avaelangel · 6 months

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Sooo.

Astarion x reader.

Modern!au. Almost an reincarnation au? Haven't decided yet.

Sort of angsty. Not a lot of words at all.

Astarion came back to you.

You have never met him before, but you knew how his lips tasted. You remembered his hands gripping your wrists and his snarl when he attacked your enemies. You remembered his teeth in your neck.

It wasn't entirely clear where you actually met. Another world? Another life? Is this some kind of curse? So you two just laid there, on a small bed in a cluttered stufio apartment. Astarion's eyes fixated on your face, your eyes studied his. You felt his the point of his ear, even though you saw a normal human ear shape. Fingers moved into his hair, some strainds still carrying some traces of a more natural-looking color. He didn't take out one contact, because he hates it, so only one of his eyes was red.

You felt the forest around you. Your body craved to lean into his cool skin, as if it's too hot outside to keep walking and too early for rest. And by the way his fingers wrapped around different parts of your arm, he remembered too. The way he pleaded with you at first showed that he remembered everything in much finer detail. And now his pale face carried the only threat: to contort and shed tears of relief. You wanted to cry too.

Conversation you two had didn't span for many hours. The moment he touched you something changed. Ornate knife behind his belt didn't matter anymore. It just clicked. He would give you the knife. His heart. Anything, so you would believe him. He rushed coming to you. He could aquire something to make you remember completely and come to him.

His charm worked easily on you. An evening started with a thought of spending the night with a low-grade musician, the sun will soon rise and you first instinct will be to shield him from the light. You almost offered him your neck the moment you ended up on his bed. He saw that look in your eyes and shaked his head. He didn't want this time to start with blood. He didn't know how much time you had together until some adventure kicks in and tries to tear you away from each other. What if in the next journey you are not supposed to be with him?

You see his eyes close for longer bits of time. You move even closer to him, intruding on his hald of the bed, strategically getting him away from the window. Your sudden move to lean on your elbow scares him, but only for a second. A kiss between the eyes makes Astarion let out a shuddering breath, gives him courage to tug you back down, in his arms.

When the clock reached 06:00, you slept soundly in the only part of the room that wasn't touched by the sun. You haven't seen Astarion in the daylight yet, but even if he could walk during those hours, he didn't complain about you closeness. It would take him a great while to complain about anything again.

#astarion acunin #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #lemme know if you want the same vibe with differen companion #astarion x reader

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anixzty · 28 days

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Not gonna lie, it would be hella cool to see a fanfic of like a Afab!Tav x Ascended!Astarion where the reader is kinda like a reincarnated version of Tav from long ago? Where Astarion is still alive since he is his ascended self, and since this is taking place in the future maybe he own like a big corporation? Once the Tav gets hired, Astarion immediately knows who they are but the Tav has not the slightest idea who she was to him in the past? Idk this idea has always been stuck in my head, I just think it would be really cool to see a fanfic kinda like that.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion smut #just an idea #fanfic #bg3 fanfiction

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frantic-fiction · 4 months

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Reunions

(Pic: lovelybluebirdie) I cropped it a bit

Astarion x gn!reader, Astarion x reincarnated!Tav

Summary: A few months after reconnecting to your past life as Tav, a party is set to meet the rest of the group. You're nervous, worried about not living up to who you once were. Will you be enough?

This is a little part 2 of I'll Find My Way Back to You

Notes/ Warning: Pretty much just fluff. Reader is insecure. Astarion is a supportive partner. I kept all 6 origin characters alive because it's my story and I don't want to imagine any of them dead. Also, Halsin's here cause druids live to be like a thousand or whatever.

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist

You're not panicking. Why would you be? It's not like you're meeting a group of people you've only met in dreams—a group of strangers you've painted for the better part of your existence- a family forged through hardship from a past life you're still trying to remember fully.

No, you're not panicking. You're not scared that the people who are so excited to see you will not like what they see. You're not terrified the family Astarion has helped you remember will look at you disappointed once they realize you are no longer the Tav they once knew. You're not worried at all. Not. One. Bit.

You spent the afternoon cleaning the house from top to bottom. It was sparkling, and your fingers ached from the hours of scrubbing you filled in the restless day with. No surface was left untouched. Bookshelves were dusted, baseboards were spotless, and even the top of the cupboards, where no one would ever see, were wiped down. The floors were swept and mopped three times now, but you keep finding spots you missed. Astarion even physically stopped you from scaling the roof to clean the chimney when you ran out of things to occupy yourself with.

There's a roast in the oven, potatoes, and veggies cooking alongside it, and a pie cooling on the counter. You wanted to cook more, but you were worried that not everyone would like blueberries or that someone had turned to a plant-based diet. Astarion quickly reminded you that they used to eat food out of dusty barrels and mildewed chests.

Currently, you stand in front of your floor-length mirror. Astarion is out on a quick hunt before the party arrives, leaving you to obsess over your thoughts of inadequacy. The majority of your closet littered the floor. You're scrutinizing a simple tunic and legging combo. Was it too simple? Should you wear something more eye-catching?

You're trying to remember what Tav would have worn. All you can recall is blood-stained armor and simple camp clothes. But this occasion garners something more. Fuck. Stripping off the current outfit, you replace it with an almost identical one and look at yourself in the mirror again. You weren't sure what you expected, maybe to magically love this pair of pants and old tunic. But in reality, you were just as frustrated and worried.

The clothes weren't the problem, you knew that, but it was easier to be pissed at a blouse than to accept that you were scared. You were frightened to face Astarion and Tav's friends. You have Tav's memories and feel an odd kinship with these people. But you weren't Tav, and you would never be them, at least not entirely.

You felt like an imposter to try and convince anyone otherwise. Tears of frustration and disappointment in yourself began to trail down your cheeks. How could a silly artist hold a candle to the kind and heroic savior of Baldur's Gate? You glared at yourself, wishing things could have been different.

You jump when you feel cold arms wrap around your torso and a warm kiss at the nape of your neck. Astarion loved to use his lack of reflection to sneak up on you. You, on the other hand, hated it. Still, you found yourself leaning back into his firm chest.

"Hello, my love,"

You try to stop the pathetic sniffle, but it's useless. Astarion turns you in his arms and cups your jaw. "Darling," is all he says because he knows. Of course, he knows.

That simple pet name causes the floodgates to open, and you crumple into Astarion's chest, nuzzling his neck. He tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer to his body. Astarion lets you cry, knowing how nervous you've been for this meetup.

He rubs soft circles on the small of your back and peppers kisses to the crown of your head. "You can talk to me,"

"W-what if they don't li-like me?"

Astarion moves you both to the bed, skirting around the mess you made. He sits down and pulls you onto his lap to look you in the eyes better. "Why wouldn't they love you?" He prompts, not wanting to push you.

"Star, you know why. I'm not Tav," you hiccup, and you're positive the words you're speaking are incoherent. "I have their memories and some of their mannerisms and…and I'm also allergic to bees, but I'm not them. What if they hate me because I'm not Tav."

Astarion pecks your lips to halt your panicked words. He wipes the tears from your damp face. "No, you are not Tav, but they are part of you. They live in your art, laugh, and kind heart."

"But wha-"

"Let me finish, my love," Astarion smiles, brushing some hair behind your ear. "No one expects you to be Tav. We all love them deeply, but Tav's gone." He swallows hard, the words still hard to voice for him.

Astarion kisses your forehead, then your cheek, and continues to pepper kisses over your face, catching stray tears. "They just want to get to know the beautiful artist I fell in love with. Gale's big mouth might have let them know more about our history than I would have liked, but that doesn't change anything."

"And if they don't like the person you fell in love with?" You ask softly.

"Then fuck all of them. I love you, and if they don't love you as well, then they have no place in my life." His eyes pierce deep into yours, and there's no denying the truth of his words. You are overcome with a wave of love for your vampire and kiss him softly once more. "Now come, my love, by the smell, your roast is done."

"Shit!" You jump off his lap and rush out of the room, self-doubt pushed to the side.

The roast is fine if slightly burnt on the top. It looked juicy and smelled amazing. The vegetables are mush, but the potatoes are tender and seasoned well. It's not your best meal, but there's nothing you can do to fix it now. You left it on the counter to rest and found Astarion in the living room.

He was rehanging one of your paintings- the one you drew late last year after waking up in a cold sweat. It was a complete picture of the party standing on a dock overlooking the Grey Harbor just as the sun rose above the horizon. Astarion helps you fill in the gaps, telling you that this followed the fall of the Absolute.

"What are you doing?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning against the wall. You had hidden away most of your art, too embarrassed by the sheer number of canvases depicting the guest due here any minute.

Astarion finishes hanging the painting above the fireplace and turns to you. "I liked this one and thought I'd put it back."

Before you could say anything, there was a knock at the door. Your stomach instantly dropped, and your heart beat hard in your chest. As if sensing your rising anxiety, Astarion moved to your side, his large palm finding the small of your back.

He swiftly kisses your cheek. "One word and I'll throw them all out."

Astarion leaves you and walks to answer the door. Your palms are sweating, and you rub them down your thighs. You take a few deep breaths and pace the room. Not knowing what else to do, you idly fluff up the decorative pillows of the couch and stall.

"Pull yourself together." You mumbled under your breath. You hear the sounds of multiple footsteps, and you know they're all here.

Why did Astarion request for them to arrive all at once? You're still not sure. But you're suddenly very pissed at him for his decision. Having all of them looking upon you like an art exhibit terrifies you.

"My dear," Astarion pokes his head into the room, a warm smile adorning his sharp features. "Would you like to meet our guest?"

You swallowed hard and nodded. Putting on a brave smile, you rounded the couch and reached for Astarion's hand. Threading his fingers with yours, you curled around his arm like a lifeline.

Moving out into the foyer, you shyly look at the group before you. Gale, given the circumstances of your and Astarion's meeting, you had already met. He had relentlessly bothered Astarion until an introduction was made between you and the wizard. But you've only seen the others in the paintings you've made and the dreams you've seen.

Karlach bounced on her feet, Wyll smiling brightly behind her left shoulder. Haslin stood by the door, a beautifully sculpted wooden bear in his arms. Shadowheart stood beside him, her face passive but relaxed and almost pleased. Lae'zel was the farthest from the group, brooding in the corner, looking at you suspiciously. Still, she even loosened her tense shoulders and stepped forward upon your entry.

"Um, hi." You waved meekly, giving them your name, cringing when your voice cracked.

It's quiet for a moment too long, and you're a step away from fleeing when Karlach skips over to you.

"Can I hug you?!" She almost yells, shaking her fists excitedly.

"Karlach!" Astarion scolds. The Tiefling had, by the looks of it, broken a rule he had set for your comfort.

"Sorry, sorry." Karlach's smile fades, and she moves to retreat. Your heart clenches, and it's like your body moves on instinct. You detach from Astarion before you can think, and then your arms are around her waist. Her scalding heat seeps into your bones and listen to the cranks of her engine.

"Hi Karlach," you whispered into her torso. The wind squeezed from your body, and your feet were off the ground.

"It's nice to finally meet you! The letters fangs write didn't do you justice."

Quickly, the group connects like magnets. Wyll crowds in and hugs you from behind, pressing you closer to Karlach. Gale piles on after, then Halsin. Shadowheart nudges her way between the men and apologizes on behalf of everyone but gives you an equally tight squeeze. The group even wrangles Astarion and Lae'zel into this group hug.

These people are supposed to be strangers, but having them close, seeing this family you've watched through someone else's memories for most of your life right before you. It fills you with familiar warmth and affection and has tears of joy in your eyes. You might not be Tav, not entirely, but you still have a place in this little family.

"Um…excuse me, I can't breathe." You squeak out after a moment of suffocation, and the group is quick to disperse.

Wiping away the lingering dampness from your cheek, you take a moment to compose yourself, clearing your throat with a subtle grace. Your hand instinctively finds its way back, and Astarion swiftly recovers it, his touch reassuring. Soft circles dance on the back of your hand, a silent question lingering in his gaze, seeking affirmation that you're all right. You respond with a nod and a comforting squeeze of his hand.

"Ah, well…" you chuckle with a hint of self-awareness. "I have a roast with everyone's names on it. And a blueberry pie; Astarion found a wild patch on one of his hunts."

"Thank the gods, I'm famished," Wyll sighs, his appetite evident as he sniffs the air dreamily. A nudged Karlach sets the communal movement toward the dining room in motion.

Astarion emerges with the wine, gracefully pouring glasses of red for everyone. Gale, the sole visitor to your home beforehand, takes charge of the table settings. With a flick of his fingers and a whispered incantation, plates and silverware align harmoniously. The stage set, the food emerges, and the night takes flight.

It feels like a cinematic scene picking up where it had once paused, a seamless continuation. Laughter weaves through the air, stories unfold, and even the occasional argument dissolves into a chorus of joyous laughter. Though new and fresh, the conversation flows as naturally as breathing. Strangers evolve into friends, and amidst the clinking of glasses, a familial bond begins to sprout. Tav was indeed fortunate to have these beautiful souls around.

As the night bids farewell and everyone departs, you find solace curled up against Astarion. His voice, a gentle undercurrent, softly reads from his newest book, and you gaze up, fixated on the beautiful man before you. A silent expression of gratitude graces your lips, an unspoken acknowledgment directed at Tav. Thanks for giving you a family and the love of your life.

Astarion's fingers scratch your scalp, tenderly coaxing your eyes closed. "What are you thinking about, little love?"

"Just how lucky I am."

"I would argue I'm the lucky one, but I suppose we can share," he smiles; he continues to read to you and massage your scalp until you're puddy against his body, sleep having all but consumed you. The night settles into a tranquil symphony, the warmth of shared love lingering in the serenity.

Okay I know it was a bit cheesy, but I needed so fluffy shit today. Anyway, tell me what you thought I love talking with y'all.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna, marina-and-the-memes

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #bg3 astarion #reader insert #fanfic #writing #frantic fiction #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 x tav

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sekiromi · 2 months

Text

A Devil You Do, ch. 1

Raphael tells himself that it is only because of your importance that he tolerates your insolence, placates your tantrums, grants you courtesies never before bestowed on a mere mortal. He tells himself his interest is purely professional, his desire to be close merely an expression of wanting to protect his investment.

But then, why do you remind him so much of someone who once felt like home? Why does your soul echo with the remnants of something heavenly, and why does it entice him more than any contract ever could?

He learned not to hope anymore, but for you he might make an exception.

pairing(s): Raphael x Tav/Reader, Astarion x Tav/Reader

themes: reincarnation, soul bond, past lives, lost memories, pining, slow burn

cw/tw: canon-typical violence, gore

word count: 1k

[read this fic in all its glory on ao3!]

Chapter One: A Hundred Lifetimes from Now

The tragedy of the divine retribution of an original sin.

Fire rained down in whistling streaks, scorching the plane and causing it to shudder.

Raphael was many things; eternal, infernal, unforgiving. Hellfire simmered in his veins, behind his eyes, beneath his skin. Cruel and calculating, wicked and sinful, a creature of an irredeemable nature. Scorned son of Mephistopheles, a young lion lying in wait to pounce on his father, tear his throat and devour his flesh to take his place.

Concerned only with control and domination, loving no being other than himself.

Despite the heat of the fight, Cania remained cold and impervious, desolate and dark.

It had been that way for a long time, almost as long as Raphael could recall. His long life stretched out behind him unwaveringly endless, shadowed by greed and lust for power.

A flicker of a dying light, the last gasping breath of something divine erupted into the blackness.

The beginning grew hazy sometime during the second millennia, but there was one thing, or one person, rather, that stubbornly clung to the very fringes of his memory, slipping into his subconscious for safekeeping somewhere around 1400 DR.

Their body lay broken, crumpled, cold. Chest stuttering, choking on the blood rising in their delicate throat, and Raphael knew terror for the first time.

It still haunted his sleep, festered in a dark corner in the back of his mind, waiting for an opportunity to remind him of all he had won and then lost in his quest for everything.

“No…” Bloodied feathers and shattered bones, he tried to hold them together, put them back into one piece as if it could save them. “Hold on, my dear.” This fear on his face, it was a new emotion to them, one that they would remember a hundred lifetimes from now if only in the deepest reaches of unconsciousness.

They made an awful sound, thick, congealed blood pooling in their mouth as they tried to speak.

“G-Go, Raphael…it’s a trap.” Skin was already turning cold, fingertips icy as they weakly brought them to his cheek. “Mephisto…he—”

“Hells with him, I’ll kill him for this. I swear.” Rage burned unrestrained behind fiery eyes they had grown to love, despite every sense telling them to do otherwise. A forbidden attraction, a dance between the infernal and the divine, a collision between the Heavens and the Hells. They had both been damned from the start. They knew this. It had not stopped them.

“You won’t. Please…go, live. We will meet again.” His rage subsided to sorrow, feeling their once immortal life drain from them faster than sand through an hourglass, faster than the Styx through Avernus. His eyes grasped theirs, searching, pleading, bargaining, but both knew it was too late. Stripped of their invulnerability by the very Gods that had gifted it to them, Death would make a move soon. There was one thing left to say, a final deal, their last promise. Gently, they guided his face closer to their own, voice diminishing as a numbness climbed into their very soul.

“In the next life.”

Raphael wept for the first and last time.

—-

Whatever souls are made of, some are awfully persistent.

When theirs had departed for a more distant realm, it was some decades before it graced the material plane again.

They kept true to their promise; Raphael did meet them in their next life, albeit in another form, another face. It did not matter to either, their essence was still there, still the same. In that second life, they had managed to hold on to their memories of the one before, remembered the centuries they had spent together. The first, which they had spent the better half trying desperately to kill one another. The second, when they started to realise why they never could succeed. And the third, where they paid the price for his arrogance and ambition, slaughtered by his own father to teach his unruly son a cruel lesson.

Whatever you earn, I will steal. Whatever you have, I can take. What is yours, is also mine.

When their mortal life ran its course, they found him again in the next. And the next, and the next. He loved them in every single one, however they appeared to him, wherever they had come from. He cherished them entirely, stood beside them as they grew old, mourned their deaths that felt like they were coming faster and faster as the years stretched on, and waited for them to knock on his door once again.

Until they started to stop remembering, until it took him searching for them to elicit any memories at all. Until only echoes of the past remained.

Every reincarnation remembered less than the last.

Sometimes, he would miss reincarnations entirely. In these lifetimes, he would wonder what had become of them, whether they taken another lover, whether any visions of him and their past entanglements haunted them in the void of the night like they did him. During these lapses, the near misses, Raphael would find himself beginning to grow hazy on the details himself. An amalgamation of lives, a collection of personalities that were so similar but also just slightly distinct from one another, made it difficult to hold on to what was original. What he was looking for.

Eventually, it had been nearly a thousand years.

A thousand years of solitude, a thousand years to forget.

Raphael’s heart hardened once again. He became the devil he knew, the creature he was born to be. Cruelness returned, contracts were formed, and souls were traded year after year.

But he did not come across theirs again. He was not sure if he would even recognise it anymore.

By the mid-1400s, any lasting hope of finding them diminished entirely. Wherever in this existence they wandered, they would simply pass as hollow ships in the night, each unaware of the other.

Raphael accepted this, and got on with his work.

[chapter 2]

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #raphael #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #raphael x tav #bg3 raphael x reader #bg3 raphael x tav #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #baldur’s gate #a devil you do fic #bear with while i format the other chapters #raphael fixation still going hard #this feels like marketing for my ao3 profile #sekiromi #a devil you do

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