#astarionxtav

[abigailsins]

a little break ♥

[bloodinwine]

Just Us

Thank you Sliva so much for drawing my Effy and Astarion from the chapter Just Us. I love their expressions and the lighting is gorgeous. <3

[astarfruity]

Commission for someone on FB Romantic peaceful moment between Astarion and Celine 🌙✨️

[baldursgatekate]

I headcanon that one day, suddenly Astarion notices that whilst in trance, he has stopped replaying the horrors that he endured at the hands of Cazador, but rather replays the journey he took with a band of misfits as they were entrusted to save an entire city. Tav and the other companions are his newfound friends. They helped him want to try living again, really living, and with that, he is able to reminisce on something in fondness in trance instead of in pure terror.

[tsukiarare]

The many faces of Astarion. We need an update that makes it possible for him to transform into a goose if you reclass him to druid 🪿🦇😺🧛

[transparentkittenheart]

Consider this:

Its winter time

Astarion accepts that hes probably too cold to snuggle with

But then Tav does it anyway

[ashestoroses018]

A Missed Opportunity

Astarion never comes to confess to you before Moonlight Tower.

Being the BAMF you are, you confront him with the dreaded "what are we" conversation.

Short, sweet, to the point. Idiots in love confessing to each other.

Astarion watches you from his tent. He does it constantly, and you are well-aware of it. Sometimes, you purposefully catch his eye, your own gleaming with intent. He never backs down, yet he never acts on your significant looks, either. Tonight, you decide, enough is enough. You're nearly to Baldur's Gate, now, after two months of traveling with your erstwhile companions - your band of misfits, if you will. Hells, you're supposed to arrive in Rivington in two days' time.  Enough is enough. If you are just prey or just a plaything, you deserve to know, at least so you can make an educated decision for yourself. You should be allowed to decide if you're willing to be a...a plaything forever or not. You're not completely certain you're against it, considering the depth of your feelings for the man, but you still deserve to have a choice in the matter. He owes you that much, at least. 

Heaving a great breath - one you didn't even realize you'd been holding - you stand up from your seat at the campfire and do your best to stride confidently to Astarion's tent. His eyes widen a fraction; if you weren't so familiar with his facial expressions, you likely would have missed it. 

"Astarion," you say, "we need to talk. Now."

"Why, whatever about, darling? Have you changed your mind about our little deal? I would hate to lose such a scrumptious snack, but I understand if I must."

You shake your head in the negative. "No, Astarion. We need to talk about, well, us."

He puts his wine glass down and rakes a hand - quite elegantly, mind you - through his artfully disheveled hair. "Must we?"

"Yes," you say, firmly steeling what little resolve you have.

"Fine." He huffs, grabbing you by the hand and leading you quickly and quietly to a nearby grove. The need for privacy seems to be at an all-time high, you think idly. 

"What do you want to know, Tav?"

"Everything. We've slept together once, over a month ago, after the party, and I've been your dinner every night for even longer. Am I just a plaything to you? A toy?"

He lets out an anguished groan. "No. You're not."

You blink. You blink again. A third time, you blink. You'd not been expecting that. 

Noticing your obvious confusion, he rakes a much less graceful hand through his hair, which is now in a much less artful disarray, you note. He's obviously disgruntled, or, perhaps...frustrated? With you? With himself? All of the above?

"You haven't ever been 'just' a plaything. At first." He sighs once again, "you were a...means to an end. It was supposed to be simple. I seduce you, use you for protection, maybe food... But damn it all, you had to go and be...nice!...in a way I've never experienced before. Nobody has ever  given me a choice before, at least, not since Cazador turned me. But you, Tav, you give me choices all the time! To feed on you or not, to pick campsites, to hunt various animals for everyone's dinner, including my own...To not bite that strange Drow woman." He visibly shivers at the mention of the Blood Alchemist.

Through all of this, you just stare at him in a dumb, stunned silence. 

"Do you get what I'm saying, Tav? I don't really know WHAT you are, but you're so much more than a plaything or a means to an end. You deserve something...real. I want us to be something real."

Breaking out of your stupor, you sidle closer. "May I kiss you?"

Astarion gives you an affronted look of pure indignation. "I pour my heart and soul out to you, and you think you need to ask to kiss me?"

You merely nod. "You always have a choice, Astarion. Always."

With a quiet growl, he surges toward you with inhuman speed and pulls you into a ferocious, bruising, breathless kiss.

A moment later, when you break for air, you smirk. "Nice of you to profess your undying love for me, Astarion!"

The squeak of pure indignation is worth the scowl he throws your way for the next few minutes. It goes away, however, when you whisper in his ear that you feel the same.

[mittensmae]

Trying to use tumblr more often, not sure if I ever posted this here >:) thankyou to Astarion for dragging me out of burnout all those months ago when I made this <3

prints are available on my Etsy btw hehe

[consistencynevermether]

Astarion x gn Paladin! Reader hcs

A/n: this man has a death grip on me istg. I was writing some Long ass angst about him and decided to take a break for some cute hcs. I might do a few more of these with other classes, so if you’d like to see any other class lmk! Anyways onto the simping

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Alright let’s get one thing straight, this man can and will make fun of you

The SECOND you talk about your oath he’s behind you mimicking your voice with over exaggerated stances. He acts so innocent when you roll your eyes at his antics though

That being said, he actually really values someone who can keep their word. It makes him feel safe, having someone honest by his side after years of toxic manipulation. He’ll never admit to this of course

He finds the armor hot. There’s just something about polished chest plates and clawed gauntlets that look so good on you.

He mentioned once that when he was younger he fantasized about marrying the “hero type, like Wyll” so I think he secretly loves it when you play valiant knight

Please for the love of god give this man a kiss on the back of his hand, he will melt

If you're a more stoic or good aligned tav, he’ll try to convince you to loosen up a little, but never oversteps. Despite his teasings he understands how important your oath is to you, and he loves you the way you are.

Oh and if you ever get short or snarky with someone while your normally composed, this man is howling with laughter. Absolutely encourages little shit behavior

Despite his natural self interest coming first, we see that astarion does approve of you helping children later in the game. So I feel like every time he sees you protect the innocent, or fight for what you believe in, his heart flutters just a little.

You definitely work well fighting together, considering he’s not much for direct fighting and armor is quite hard to sneak in, you both complement each others weaknesses

Speaking of sneaking, Astarion has definitely pickpocketed you just once or twice to see your reaction. Nothing major, just a little trinket or maybe that tart in your backpack you were saving for later. He has to keep you on your toes somehow, plus he enjoys it when you try to chase him down (keyword- try. He’s as slippery as they come and once again, armor isn’t great for speed or sneak)

If you have a routine where you polish and upkeep your weapons and armor, he’s definitely going to keep you company. Maybe he’ll even sharpen some of his own blades while he’s at it. He likes these little mundane moments where you can sit together in comfortable silence. And his daggers have never looked better

While he finds your heroics and honor shtick endearing, you’ll need to understand he’s not looking for some protector or bodyguard. He wants to be your equal, not someone you constantly need to keep an eye on. With that being said, he does enjoy some classic romantic chivalry.

He won’t admit it but that flower you gave him a few months ago? He preserved it by pressing it between pages in his book. He treasures the little gestures you do for him

If you ever have to leave to join some holy quest or whatever for a few months, he definitely wants to come with. But if that’s not possible (maybe it’s after the events of the game and you two are still looking for a way for him to walk in the sun) he’ll definitely write you frequently and try to visit if he knows your going to be in a certain city soon

And you better have the exact👏 same👏 energy👏. Start writing love letters and maybe even send him some gifts as well

And when you're done assisting on this quest, you’d better block out at least a month of time just for him. He won’t admit it but I imagine he’s a bit touchstarved for some wholesome romantic touch

Cuddle him. Now.

While he understands and respects your oath, there’s probably a part of him that worries one day you might leave him if your god asked, or if you needed to go on a quest that might last years or decades

Well guess what? Your god can shove it

You would never abandon Astarion like that, the second you became partners you also became a package deal. You make sure to tell him that your oath is more than just a gods power, it’s a set of ideals that you would gladly follow even without a gods backing if you were ever forced to choose between them and him.

Considering he finds settling down dull and boring, and a Paladin is constantly living a life of adventure, it’s really the perfect match

[abigailsins]

Here's my little treat with their cheeks all flushed...

[opal-apparition]

What the Tide Keeps - OpalApparition - Baldur's Gate (Video Games) - [Archive of Our Own]

Summary:

The pale hunter of the Sword Coast has drowned countless sailors without remorse, but the one prey he can't catch might be the one he can't bear to lose. A Baldur's Gate 3 Siren!Astarion/Male!Tav fic for MerMay

Excerpt:

The sea was restless tonight, and fog had swallowed the shore.

It curled over the black water in lazy coils, draping the crags and the remains of old ships, which was typical for this cesspool of a coast, though, always caught between storm and squall with hungry, chopping waves. Sparse clusters of salt-bleached dune grass clung stubbornly to the higher ground, bending in perpetual submission to the relentless coastal winds.

Even this part of the jagged rocky shoreline, slick with seaweed and salt, was starving. Above, the occasional night-flying gull. Below, a reef thriving across the bones of the dead and damned, chewed up by the ocean. Maybe that’s how it earned its name: The Teeth. Astarion lingered in the shallower jaws of the tide, his pale scales glinting beneath the surface like shards of moonlit glass. Around him, the tidepool shimmered with his bioluminescence, a soft, otherworldly glow that pulsed in slow time with his heart.

He did not breathe as men did anymore, and the only sounds were the rhythmic crash of the waves and the distant creak of the ruined dock. Ulgoth’s Beard loomed in the distance, its dim lights barely piercing the very same low fog that also clung to the village—if the cluster of rotted cottages and moss-eaten docks moldering in the shadow of Baldur’s Gate could still be called that—like a shroud. It was pathetic, really. A crumbling hamlet full of fools and fishermen, all too stubborn, or too stupid, to leave.

Perfect prey.

Perfect… but perhaps not as easy as he’d like. Villagers were more cautious these days, ever since the last sailor had vanished into the waves, muttering and whispering of the pale man in the water, of the haunts that lured travelers to their doom. Astarion smirked at the thought. Let them whisper and sink into fear. Fear was power, and power was all he had left.

Astarion slipped beneath the waves and surfaced with barely a ripple. Even now, so close to shore, he could smell the salt-crusted blood soaked into the timbers of the old wharf and the ghosts of his work. A fisherman’s boot floated near one of the skeletal piers, the leg long since separated from the rest of its owner. He smiled at it. How satisfying.

A glimmer of movement caught his eye. Astarion surfaced as silent as death itself where his head slipped back through the water. On the shore, a figure was picking its way across the rocks, fumbling in the darkness but determined.

His boots left temporary imprints in the wet sand that filled with seawater almost immediately, erasing his passage as if the shore itself rejected a mortal’s presence. Wrapped in a patchwork cloak dyed in the drab mineral reds of Chultan trade cloth, threadbare but carefully mended, a half-elf by the shape of his pricked ears and build. His hair was salt-tangled. His hands were clever and deft. His fingers skimmed the surface of a pool, breaking the reflection of the meager starlight. The pool itself was a miniature ecosystem—tiny crabs scuttled between barnacle-crusted stones while anemones waved their tentacles in the shallow current.

His smile, when he found a prize among the wet stones, was absurdly bright for the all-consuming dim of this forsaken place.

Astarion drifted closer as a sharp hunger pang twisted through his gut, every muscle tensed against the urge to strike now, fingers splayed in the water, barely disturbing its surface. Hunger sharpened his senses—he could almost taste the hot gush of the half-elf's blood from here, could nearly map out the blue lines of his veins beneath suntanned skin, could almost feel the frantic pulse beneath his fingers as he would drag that bright smile down into the dark frothing water… but… the hunt itself was an art, he, an artist of extinction. Besides, he'd lived long enough to know the thrill of anticipation often surpassed the kill itself. So he watched as the water-logged half-elf crouched by the water's edge, those nimble fingers sifting through broken shells and sea glass, stopping occasionally to examine some trinket before tucking it into a worn leather pouch at his hip.

One pull and those lungs would fill with saltwater. One moment and the bright eyes would go dim. One song and—

No. Patience. He wouldn’t rob himself of the game just to savor a win.

He drifted closer, let the moonlight catch his bare torso and the pearlescent skin there, and smiled sweetly. Astarion began to sing.

The song started as a low, faint sound, a shushing hum that vibrated through his chest and throat, resonating through the water like a current. It wasn’t a true voice, not in the way mortals understood it, but a riptide made of sound; a pull, a pressure, a force that shaped the waves and seeped into the stones beneath the half-elf’s boots and begged to sweetly drown any that listened. Sinister melody coiled around the air and water alike, pealing against the waves. Threads of lonesome and voracious lyric wove themselves into the fabric of the night promising hearth, safety and a place where the world’s sharp edges softened. Beneath the surface, it hummed with a darker promise: rest, surrender, the sweet pull of water closing over one’s head, of bubbles floating towards the surface like stars.

It was a pretty death spell, really.

But the man did not stir.

No tilt of the head. No hesitant step toward the shallows. He crouched instead, plucking something small from between two barnacle-crusted stones. A glass bead, perhaps, or a broken bit of polished shell. Astarion’s song curled around him like mist, tugging with insistent wet claws. Come closer. Come to me. Come into the water.

Nothing.

Astarion narrowed his eyes, the glow of his scales dimming in agitation. His fingers curled into claws against the stone, leaving shallow scratches in the wet surface. Was he ignoring it?

His tail and fins shifted beneath the water, circling, letting the melody pulse deeper, sharper. Other men had thrown themselves into the sea at the first breath of this song. Even those who had suspected the stories of sea-bourne death on the waves wearing a pretty face. Even those who had thought themselves too clever to be deceived. Sailors. Hunters. Thieves. Even a few other spawn foolish enough to trespass. All had come. All had drowned.

But this one—this slip of a man with his patched cloak and sea-bitten hands—showed no sign he heard anything at all.

The half-elf startled slightly when a crab darted between his feet but didn’t flinch as a wave surged against the rocks behind him. He didn’t glance toward the sea, didn’t even lift his head as Astarion’s voice grew louder, the water vibrating with it, and then, finally, his prey straightened, gaze scanning the shoreline.

For a moment, Astarion thought he’d succeeded—that the fool would step into the water. But instead, the man only looked briefly startled. Then he smiled and raised a hand to wave.

To wave.

Astarion stared, dumbfounded, his song faltering with a splutter. He swam forward, the water rippling around him as he closed the meager distance. The half-elf turned toward him, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He ached with hungry need. Stronger than the brine around them, the scent of living flesh, warm and salt-kissed, made his throat constrict. It had been days now since his last proper feeding, and the hollow emptiness inside him gnawed with vicious persistence. The double curse of his spawnhood and later this oceanic abortion of shape was a particular cruelty; the sea witch had known exactly what she was doing, binding him to water as a siren yet leaving him with the insatiable thirst of the undead.

His lips curled into a sneer, “Charming. But if you want my attention, darling, you’ll have to step closer. Are you coming in, or must I fetch you?”

Rather than answering though, the half-elf straightened suddenly, tilting his head to the side as if listening.

“What on Earth are you doing you—”

Now he was gathering his things, movements quick but not frantic. His hand, the one that waved, was flicking towards him, shooing him like an unwelcome alley cat!

Astarion's sneer faded to a snarl as soon as he realised he was being dismissed, like a beggar on the street. How dare this impudent half-elf send him away? Astarion's teeth bared, sharp and dangerous. His tail slammed heavily against the water, sending a fine mist of spray over the half-elf. "Don't you dare presume to dismiss me. And what, leaving so soon, handsome? You haven't even told me your name, you’re being rather rude don’t you think?"

But the man only shook his head while he stood, jutting a thumb up the length of the beach towards the dunes. Astarion followed his gaze and saw them: three figures picking their way down the narrow path from the village, carrying torches that cast wild shadows across the rocks. The half-elf retreated without hesitation, disappearing among the larger stones that lined the base of the cliff and into the gloomy fog, too stupid to be caught in a siren’s snare and too smart to be caught solo after dark.

Interesting.

It seemed Astarion wasn't the only predator this stranger avoided. You can read the rest on AO3!

[bloodinwine]

i don’t wanna plot.

i just want these two to…

GIF credits to:@ambimoon ; @flyingrainbowcorn

this brings me endless joy. you have no idea. 🖤

[ranmaru-011]

"Hello darling."

[baldursgatekate]

please dont look at me that way sir!!!

[wife-of-astarion]

They look at each other so tenderly 🥺

Kore x Astarion 🩸🌺

[elfinbloodbag]