#astarion x reader

[flow33didontsmoke]

when y/n does something so bad/embarrassing you have to facepalm and close your eyes for a minute

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

reasons why i relate to tav, the main character from baldurs gate 3:

shouldn’t have wished to live in more interesting times.

[calamitiesimpact]

If I search for one more “x reader” fanfic and get bombarded with fuckass OC characters im gonna have a hernia im so serious.

STOP PUTTING “X READER” HASHTAGS FOR A FIC THAT IS NOT X READER FUCKKK

Cancel me for this idgaf

[savedenji]

as a society, we need more long fiction where the reader haunts the narrative. yes, I want to be that dead wife at the beginning of each movie. if I disappear or die tragically, i want to haunt the character every moment. we don't need a few paragraphs about how much the character hurts over our death, we want at least 10k where it is established at the beginning of the story that reader is dead, we want to see flashbacks to the past when we were happy. the longer the story goes on, the darker they become, all the way to the present. I never want to leave the character alone.

If you know of any fic like this or are writing one, please recommend it! 🙏🏻🙏🏻

[witchymommy27]

A girls first heartbreak is her favorite fanfiction being deleted.

[itshelia]

My mom to her friends, my aunts, and literally everyone she knows: Yeah, my kid is so smart. She is on her phone a lot of the time, but it's not like you guys think, She is not like how kids nowadays are, She reads a lot of books on her phone!!

Me, a fanfic reader who can survive off nothing but just words and day dreams herself to sleep:

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

[existing-birdily]

I doubt Astarion ever gets completely used to you sleeping beside him. You, a fool, happily lays beside a creature that only knows blood and death. A mouse that steps into the jaws of a cat and expects them not to close.

And yet, there you are. You sleep soundly beside him, you reach for him in your dreams, you sigh happily when you holds you.

He doesn’t believe it most days. He touches your wrist to feel your pulse thump slow and steady beneath his thumb. He rests a hand against your chest to feel the rise and fall of your lungs beneath your ribs. His fingers slip beneath your sleep shirt just to feel the warmth of you, to watch you wiggle away from his chilled touch, to hear your sleepy grouse.

An alive thing lays beside him. Flesh and bone, muscle and fat. You.

You’re a fool, he knows it as do you. But you’re his fool and that thought makes his old, dead heart do something similar to beat, just a little.