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yourdoorisunlocked · 4 months

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What A Dish, What A Doll! - Part 1

𝐀/𝐍: This was originally supposed to be pretty dark, but my mind clearly had other plans since I ended up writing a fluffy little fic about our favorite radio man lmao. I’ll probably write up the angstier fic, too, if this one does well.

Also, the Reader is AFAB, since that’s what I’m comfortable writing for as a girl myself.

. . .

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐,𝟏𝟏𝟓 𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

. . .

The door to Alastor’s manor creaked open for you, and with a grin you took the spare key he gave you from the lock and swung the door fully open to push yourself inside in an attempt to escape from the late winter chill.

It was a late January night, meaning the serene moonlight washed over the snowy landscape as early as 5:00 P.M., making it dangerous for a lady like yourself to be wandering the streets of New Orleans late at night.

But it had been months since you really had to worry about anything like that, since you had Alastor by your side to look out for you. Such a sweetheart to you, and a bit of a mama’s boy, too, judging by the pictures set atop the mantle just above the unlit fireplace.

The mere thought of your ever-enthusiastic smiling companion made you especially giddy as you kicked off your winter boots and shrugged your coat off your shoulders, placing it upon the antler-adorned coat rack and skipping past the staircase into the living room.

Flopping on the couch, you reached over for the radio while cuddling up with a blanket, excited to hear the well-awaited voice of the man who had altered the direction of your life – undoubtedly for the better – and you were practically kicking your feet like a flustered schoolgirl who had received your first confession as Alastor’s voice rang through the small device, loud and clear for you to hear.

“Good evening, New Orleans!” You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiastic announcer’s voice that he normally used for his radio show, and the first time the two of you had met.

Though, Alastor was more relaxed around you nowadays, seeing no need to keep up the too-cheery facade his listeners had renowned and adored him for. You cherished moments when he was simply relaxed, content with a close-lipped smile and sitting beside you, whether it be reading, playing the piano with you, occasionally even pulling you into a spontaneous dance.

As you listened practically through the entire thing, you began to silently fantasize about your unpredictable yet darling radio host.

“Well, I’m afraid that’s all the time I have tonight, folks! I should be going, now. It's rather bad form to keep my doll waiting at home for me~,” He finished with a soft chuckle.

Blood rushed to your cheeks at that last little comment, practically cursing Alastor for his cheekiness, and he knew that you listened to his shows whenever you could.

"The au-diddly-dacity of that man..."

“Thank you for tuning in! See you next time~...”

The radio returned to static for a few seconds, before a jaunty little tune began to play through the speakers, and it just so happened to be one of your personal favorites, one that you, no matter what mood, nor what you were doing, couldn't help but jump up and dance to.

And, of course, Alastor knew you loved it.

You sighed with content as you relaxed into his couch cushions, sinking into the blanket that Alastor had laid out for you since he'd found you constantly falling asleep to his voice on the radio when he returned home from work.

A pang of guilt thundered against your chest as your heart strained at the stinging reminder of how much of a burden you really were to Alastor. He was a good man, who helped you out when you were in a tough spot, you should at least repay the favor, right?

I should at least do something nice for him... He's been so good to me, even inviting me over for dinner more times than I can count.

He was the one who offered me that job at the radio station, hell, he even let me off early so I could listen to his show!

With a huff, and a newfound sense of energy, you got to work around the house, tidying up and lighting the fireplace, sparking a candle or two, and keeping the radio playing all throughout the thirty minutes you had spent cleaning, imagining the look on Alastor’s face when he returned.

You had even started on dinner, making a nice pot of venison soup, since it seemed to be his favorite.

You pushed down the swell in your chest when you heard the doorbell ring, excitedly rushing over to a mirror and sweeping across your face and hair, making sure everything about you was in perfect shape.

You opened the door, craning your neck a good amount to make eye contact with dark chocolate eyes staring down at you intently, almost illuminated in the moonlight, set against smooth caramel skin beneath a fluff of mocha brown hair.

“Hel-!”

Alastor’s usual smile was smacked clean off his face at the sight of you standing before him, apron tied across your skirt with a few stains upon it, hair slightly amess but clearly put together.

"-Lo... My dear, what is the meaning of this?..." His tone seemed cheerful enough, if a bit bewildered as his eyes scanned your form once more, stopping upon the apron once again before returning his gaze to yours.

You looked so painfully, so heart throbbingly domestic that it nearly gave him a heart attack when he first opened the door. Such a submissive nature fed into other... primal desires of his that he wasn't fully prepared to delve into.

You smiled sheepishly up at him. "Why don't you come in? I've already started dinner," Alastor's trademark smile quirked his lips upward as he suddenly took your arm and headed inside, practically glowing as he headed straight for the kitchen.

"Oh, no, mister, you stay right there," you winked down at the radio host as you pulled him into a chair. "You've been working so late, let me handle dinner."

You truly piqued Alastor's interest when a familiar scent wafted past his nose, and he eyed you with surprise as you worked in the kitchen, pouring a hot, thick broth from the pot into a small bowl.

As you headed towards him, he tried his best not to absolutely melt in his seat as you served him with a smile, and he carefully took the steaming bowl from your hands.

Venison, hm? Well don’t mind if I-

AN: You know that one scene in Ratatouille where that critic takes a bite of his dish, and gets a flashback to when his mom used to cook for him? Imagine that but with Alastor.

“Is it good?” Your soft, almost worried voice brought him back to reality, and as he met your hopeful, imploring gaze, Alastor nearly choked on his food as heat crept up to his cheeks, burning against his face and ears.

For just a moment, I thought I saw...

With wide eyes, you rushed over to him with a napkin, patting his back and looking over him with concern as his coughing ceased, and he took the cloth with a grateful, slightly wobbly smile.

“Was it really that bad...?” Your confidence wavered slightly as you stared down at Alastor, realizing the sudden proximity as electricity raced up your spine and lit your cheeks aflame.

Half-lidded cocoa-brown eyes searched the very depths of your soul, before he shook his head and murmured, "No, quite the opposite. I'm... I'm actually quite thankful for this, tonight." Though, it couldn't have come at a worse possible time, when he was finally squashing any sort of emotions he felt for you into the dirt, only for you to make them froth and rise to the surface yet again.

Why, he hadn't realized how long it had been since anyone had done anything like this for him!

Ah, his dear mama...

He recalled the last dish she ever made for him. Her house-famous Jambalaya that he had adored so much. It even managed to put his father in a good mood.

"A-Al? Alastor? Are you alright...?"

He hadn't even noticed that tears were streaming down his slim cheeks until he felt small droplets falling upon his lap.

"Oh, nothing. This... This all just reminded me of someone..." He shook his head and took his circle-rimmed glasses off his pointed nose, rubbing the fogginess off the glass as the gears turned in your head.

You raised an eyebrow. "Who...?" You then caught a glimpse of the photos set above fireplace just past the couch that faced away from the kitchen. Of course!

Immediate regret washed over you as you fretted over Alastor, apologizing meekly as you attempted to clean up the soup in front of him, but you were stopped as he gripped your wrist.

"I'm so sorry! I never meant to be such a burden, I just really wanted to do something nice for you, s-since you're always-"

"No, please, this has been a delightful surprise, darling." You froze at the pet name, heat creeping over your cheeks and tinging your ears a bright pink as Alastor released his grip upon your hand.

"You have never, never felt like a burden to me. I promise you that," he slid his hand from your wrist to your hand in an act of comfort, but it only served to make your face glow even redder.

"Now I'd like to finish the dinner you made for me. If you don't mind, of course," his usual cheekiness had returned when he spotted your slightly flustered face, and you nodded and returned to your seat promptly.

Alastor, being ever the chatterbox, resurrected the flowing conversation between you two for a good hour, as he recalled stories from his childhood, keeping you entertained throughout your dinner. Your laughter filled the hallway, your smile both wounding and freeing his heart, while you sat, mesmerized at his captivating storytelling and how he spoke with his hands, practically alight as he drank in each expression you gave him.

"Would you care for a dance, darling?" Alastor spoke up suddenly, the contents of his bowl completely gone as you eyed it. You shyly agreed as he smiled gently and pulled you into the living room.

Soft caramel brown hands wrapped around yours as Alastor's slender fingers held you close in a surprisingly tight grip against him, and you could feel the rise and fall of his chest, along with his rapidly beating heart despite his suave demeanor as he slowly danced along with you to one of the songs that had begun playing on the radio beside the fireplace.

Nothing but your dear friend's soft humming along with the sounds of the radio filled the silence between you in the moment, and you began to relax in his grip as you lazily kept up with his slow steps.

Put your head on my shoulder~

A slow dance between you two, with an occasional twirl as Alastor nearly swept you off your feet swept the minutes away, until the moon was well past the horizon and twilight fell upon the sky.

As he spun you around once more, a sudden gust of air swept past the pair of you, nearly blowing out the candle beside you.

Hold me in your arms, baby...

Alastor's eyes widened at the sight of a petite, elderly woman standing beside the doorway into the kitchen, watching the two of you intently, until her form faded from the door with a shimmer of light and a gentle smile.

Squeeze me oh-so tight, show me...

He gulped softly at the sight of the angel while you stared into his eyes, completely fixated upon his surprised open-mouthed stare as his gaze flickered from behind you to your lips.

You barely missed his darkening expression as you both began to sway slowly once again.

Show me, that you love me, too~...

"Would you like to stay the night, darling?" For the first time in his life, Alastor seemed unsure, maybe even nervous, as his dark brows creased together and his charming smile twitched at the corners of his lips. You smiled and reached up to smooth out the crease with your fingers.

You had no idea how he warred with himself, knowing that he'd be practically signing his soul away simply to be in your company.

Put your lips next to mine, dear~...

But... Perhaps this would be worth it.

Perhaps moments like these, when time slowed, where you both could block out the rest of the world and simply bask in each other's company would be worth the risk.

Won't you kiss me once, baby~?

Alastor had decided, right then and there as you stared up at him with nothing but adoration.

He'd have you. He had to. He was damned either way, but he'd storm the pearly gates themselves if he failed to drag you down with him.

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe...?

But, with immense relief, Alastor realized wouldn't take much persuasion as your eyes seemed to twinkle beside the flickering candlelight, and a gentle yet teasing smile played at your lips.

You and I will fall in love...

"Yes, I'd like that very much, Alastor."

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Okay, I KNOW that 'Put Your Head On My Shoulder' was released in the 50s, BUT LET'S PRETEND IT WAS THE 20s, OKAY???

Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this first post, I might write a part two if the people want one. Maybe Alastor headcanons?? Who knows...

Let's just see how far this goes lmao.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #fluff #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #fanfic #writing #very inaccurate 1920s representation #this man is my new hyperfixation for the next couple of weeks so buckle up lmao #I will never shut up about alastor istg #expect more slow dancing scenes with him #it's like 12 am rn ya'll 💀#yourdoorisunlocked

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satsuha · 10 months

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home

#legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #totk spoilers #zelink #spoilers in tags beyond this point #im so normal about them (lying) i cant even rmb the last time a series that wasnt my current hyperfix made me want to draw smth #i keep thinking about the ending scene and going 😦 ..>??!???!/ 384789wuri4ty #i just realized the hand he reached out to her with is the hand he just got back . for the first time in the game. fuck man #also im sure her saying im home is just a translation of tadaima but it hits different in english when u consider that like #shes been home this entire time... just not in the right Time.... its like..... shes only home when link is there....#(fucked up)

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neverforgetyouremyfavorite · 6 months

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holding paul matthews in my hands like a bug or perhaps a small frog

#he is SO #love that man #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #paul matthews #starkid #if you��re on here actively watching the hyperfixation do fuckin donuts in my brain no you aren’t #been awhile since my last STRONG hyperfixation im thriving

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spicerackofblorbos · 3 months

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Home | Leon S. Kennedy x gn!Reader

☾ summary ➼ Leon just came back from a mission and you missed him.

☾ content/warnings ➼ fluff, canon world, mentions of bruises and cuts, suggestive (MDNI)

☾ wc ➼ 750ish

The sound of muffled thumping coming from Leon's office wakes you up from the sofa where you had fallen asleep on. Instead of the movie you had playing in the background, the TV was off. Now, soft acoustic instrumentals sing through the record player in the corner.

Your eyes pop open as you're suddenly pulled out of your sleepy stupor and sit up quickly. Your neck turns to see the office door ajar, a faint yellow light glowing through the crack.

The blanket you were wrapped in falls to the floor as you stand. With new vigor, you start stepping towards the hopeful light. When you push it open gently, your heart skips a beat.

There he was, Leon currently organizing miscellaneous papers with a wary look on his face. A few day old scratches and bruises mar his pretty face but he was there, and he was whole. At the movement of the door, he looks up. Those blue eyes of his light up at the sight of you.

“Hey there, sweetheart. I didn't want to wake you.” Leon says with a lopsided grin.

You don't say anything. Instead, your face pulls into a large smile as you make your way over to where he sat behind his desk. He knows you well enough to pull away enough so that you can crawl into his lap, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and his arm around your waist. You nuzzle into his neck and sigh in relief.

Leon must have just gotten home because he still smelled of blood and sweat and his combat uniform still covered his body. Even the holsters were still in place, though now devoid of weaponry which is no doubt locked up safely in the hidden compartments of his office.

“Miss me?” Leon chuckles, the low rumble of his voice vibrating against your body. He starts to slowly rub circles on your back in a soothing manner. You nod slowly, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter. As you hold on to him, you can feel him start to organize his mission reports.

Leon had been away for about a few days, which isn't long compared to his other missions, but the importance of the mission had you biting your nails down to the quick and wishing he was home instead. It's not every day when the assignment consists of rescuing the president's daughter in rural Spain.

“How did it go?” You eventually get out after a few minutes. Your soft voice comes muffled against his warm skin.

“The usual. Got my ass handed to me a few times, but I survived.” Leon jokes, pressing his cheek against your hair.

You pull away a little to be able to see his face better. You inspect every part of it from the side profile, and even more when he looks down at your sleepy face. The bruises were starting to turn yellow and the cuts were scabbed, not as angry red as you imagine they were at the beginning. The little freckles that dot his face, his captivating blue eyes that narrow in focus.

“Thank you for coming back to me.” You whisper softly, raising your hand to touch Leon's cheek. You pull him down until your lips press against his. He smiles into it and puts down the file he was holding so that he can hold on to you instead. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him as his kiss lingers.

Leon pushes himself away from the desk and stands up, carrying you bridal style effortlessly. As he does, he starts peppering your face with kisses, eliciting quiet giggles from you.

“I missed that sound. I wouldn't leave that for anything in the world.” Leon mumbles in between each kiss. He starts down the hallway where your shared bedroom lies. You can't help but squirm as your laughs get louder. He heads straight to the bathroom. “Wanna know what other noises I missed?” Leon looks down at you with a smirk.

“Leon!” You playfully slap his chest. “You just got home, get cleaned up first.” You chastise, but you can't help the bright smile.

“Oh, I intend to. And you're coming with, baby girl.” Leon suddenly shifts you so that you're thrown over his shoulder, then he slaps your ass playfully. The bathroom door closes in front of you as Leon kicks it closed.

#this is my first writing for leon #you can tell what my new hyperfixation is when i start writing fanfiction to ease my craving of this man #i will be writing more by the way #leon kennedy #and also i'm still working on porting my other writing as well as the last few requests in my chaotic-on-main inbox #leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 4 #x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon posting #leon kennedy fluff #suggestive

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pickedyou · 5 months

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I‘m so normal about them

#THEM #you can pry easily flustered Law out of my cold dead hands #that man is so touch starved #one piece #lulaw #monkey d. luffy #trafalgar law #lawlu #pickedyou draws #last art for the year #I have drawn more in the last month than the entire rest of the year #hyperfixation goes brrrrr

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dizzybizz · 1 year

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been watching word of honor

#im only on ep18 and theyve had like 3 breakups #like jesus fuck man #and then they act as if nothings happened i am gonna put them in couples therapy #word of honor #wen kexing #zhou zishu #theyre so unhinged #word of honor fanart #my art #doodle #i would make this a rendered thing if i had the energy aahahaaaaaauuuhg #girl help im reentering my wuxia phase from last year #girl help i cant escape #girl you left me to be swallowed by my hyperfixations how could you #i also started the novel bc ofc sighhhh

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eridude · 1 month

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bro how have you been doing this for like 200 days that's insane also can you draw vrisrezi pretty please, make them like doing something stupid idk you decide

themmmm i love them!!! weird gurls. they deserve to be happy. narratives hate them!

#homestuck #my art #ALSO FUCK IF I KNOW MAN #its just an endless hyperfixation i don't have hobbies any more its just Homestuck #vriska serket #vriska #terezi pyrope #terezi #vrisrezi #day 225

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seventh-district · 8 months

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Midnight Hour

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

You awake in the middle of the night to find your lover in tears.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Word Count: 3,139

Content Warnings: [crying (obviously)] [non-specific mentions of Astarion's past trauma] [this fic was written by someone who hasn't actually played the game and that might show in the details/the lack thereof]

Blinking your tired eyes open, you squint at the light of the crackling fire in front of you. Closing them again, you let out a soft sigh as you try to guess at the current time. Given that you woke on your own, you’re assuming it’s likely close to, but not quite, time for you to take over tonight’s watch shift.

Your group has fallen into a routine where you pair off into teams of two, and a different team keeps watch each night. Tonight’s turn belongs to you and Astarion, and he’s taken the first half of the shift as usual. You usually, ironically, sleep your best on the nights that he keeps watch, in spite of only getting half the amount of sleep as you do on the nights another team has the job.

You suppose you can credit the fact that, at the end of the day, Astarion is a creature of the night. Something about knowing he has the upper hand when it comes to any unwanted nighttime visitors your group may encounter is… reassuring. To you, as well as to the others in the group, loathe as some of them may be to admit it. That is, once they all felt confident in his promises to not make a surprise midnight snack of them, at least.

Tonight is a bit of an exception, though, and you’re not quite sure what woke you early this time. You typically sleep soundly until he gently coaxes you awake, nails combing through your hair, voice soft and apologetic in your ear. He’s always somewhat reluctant to wake you, but he does so nonetheless, having learned his lesson after the first time he made the executive decision to let you sleep the whole night through. His arguments of “You really looked like you could use the rest.” and “What’s one sleepless night? I can sleep when I’m dead.” didn’t hold much water in the face of the way he dragged ass through the entire next day.

In “the spirit of fairness” and “proving that he can stick to an agreement,” he never tried to take the whole shift by himself again. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with how guilty he felt when he heard the disappointment in your tone when you awoke that first morning and discovered he hadn’t stuck to the plan. Definitely.

Laying there in the quiet, you try and fail to pinpoint what feels different about tonight. You don’t hear any strange noises, nothing feels unusual, and blinking your eyes open again you raise your head a bit to look around the fire. The rest of the group are circled around the other sides of the heat source, sleeping soundly. You figure that you’re probably just getting used to this routine by now, and your body simply woke up around your usual shift change time on its own.

Still, that doesn’t explain the vague, unplaceable feeling that something is just… off.

You let out a sigh that turns into a yawn as you stretch and roll away from the fire onto your back. Letting your head roll further to the left, your eyes land on the familiar sight of your lover’s back as he sits in his usual position beside you, diligently watching your six.

He’s taken to placing his bedroll right next to yours, insisting that you lie between the fire and himself. You couldn’t really argue with his point that he can’t feel the cold anyways, so there’s no need for him to be the one next to the fire. Nor could you argue with the benefits of having him as a line of defense between you and whatever lurks beyond the reach of the firelight.

The feeling of security and protection that he provides you with is still relatively foreign to you, and a soft smile blooms on your face at the warm feeling it brings. Your smile then falls a bit as you remember the silent question you ask yourself on the regular, of whether or not you provide him with the same.

You roll the rest of the way to your left, and shuffle further toward him, closing what remains of the small gap he’d placed between the two of you. Lying halfway on your bedroll and halfway on his, you curl your body around his seated form, bringing your right arm up and gently placing a hand on the right side of his waist. He flinches slightly, and if this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d retract your hand. He’s long since informed you though that his reaction to unexpected touch is simply involuntary, and as long as it’s you, you’ve no need to pull away.

You recall the quiet, restrained desperation in his voice when he first explained it to you, all but begging you not to pull away. He can’t control the way his body reacts to touch, given that before you, he couldn’t recall the last time being touched meant anything other than pain. In spite of that though, he wants it. He wants you. That’s obvious in the way that he, without fail, immediately relaxes under your gentle touch once his mind and body process that it’s coming from you. The way he’s come to not only relax, but to lean into it. Lean into you.

You’d never push past his boundaries, never in a million years, but he’s made it quite clear after about a thousand of your quiet requests for consent at every minor touch, that he’s entirely welcoming of your non-sexual physical affections. Getting the man to verbally admit that he actually enjoys cuddling with you, without the truth being concealed beneath a heavy layer of playful banter and practiced, honeyed words didn’t come easy, but he came around to it in his own time.

So, you don’t pull back, instead following through with the motion and slowly snaking your arm around his waist. You press your front against his lower back and curl around to rest your left cheek atop his left thigh. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t relax into you in the way he usually does, and your head turns to the right a bit, struggling to get a half-decent look at his face as you’re both turned away from the fire light.

He remains tense, still, and unresponsive to your movements, gaze seemingly locked dead ahead of him, staring out into the dark forest.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks. He’s actively crying, tears dripping from his chin, and now with his head tilted down at you they take a different path, running down to converge and fall from the tip of his nose.

You nearly bolt upright in your shock, quickly unwrapping yourself from him and clambering around on all fours until you’re sat down in front of him, your hands gripping tightly to your upper thighs in worry. His wide-eyed gaze followed your every movement, and even now that you’re sat still in front of him, his eyes still dart around, frantically scanning you, for what, you don’t know.

“What- what’s going on?”

You keep your voice as quiet as you reasonably can in spite of your shock and concern, not eager to wake your companions and have everyone witness… whatever this is.

He doesn’t respond, looking just about as lost as you feel, shaking his head in silence as more tears fall. It’s one hell of a sight, and it suddenly hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

Unsure of what to do and what even caused this, you resist the urge to wrap him in a hug, not wanting to overstep in this unfamiliar territory. Instead, you glance back over your shoulder and once again see and hear nothing of note before trying another question.

“Is there a threat? Did you see something that scared you, honey?”

He takes a long moment to answer, seeming unsure, before eventually settling on another shake of his head. His lack of confidence in his answer isn’t the most reassuring thing at the moment, but given that you aren’t detecting any danger either, you decide to believe that he really didn’t see any threat. At least, not here. Not right now, in the present moment, in front of him. He seems about halfway here and halfway gone, and if your growing suspicions are correct, he’s probably been sat here lost in the dark corners of his mind for a while now, given the state he’s in.

You catch movement to Astarion’s right side and watch as Karlach raises up from her prior position sprawled out face-down on her bedroll, propping herself up with her forearms beneath her. Her expression of concern is too aware and her eyes are too awake for her to have just now woken up, and you quickly gather that she’s probably been awake and laying there long enough to have heard your questions and Astarion’s lack of any verbal response. She doesn’t say anything though, and doesn’t move, just letting the situation unfold and keeping a watchful eye on the darkness behind you.

Relaxing slightly at the knowledge that someone else is awake and helping to keep watch now, your focus shifts back to Astarion, who’s gaze has moved to his lap, tears still falling fast. It’s almost unsettling, the way he cries. There’s no sound, no movement, his breathing is hardly even affected, nothing more than the occasional shaky breath to give away any sign of struggle at all. You don’t have to guess why it’s like this, given what he’s told you about his past. You’re sadly certain that he learned to cry like this ages ago. Silent and still, sat alone in the dark so no one would notice.

You don’t want to think about the sorts of punishments he’s endured as a result of showing such pain and emotion, but your mind pulls from what experiences he’s shared and offers up a few anyways, making you begin to feel sick.

Leaning down and trying to catch his gaze, you ask another question.

“Astarion, are you with me right now?”

He blinks, more tears spill, and his lips finally part as he responds to you with a strained whisper.

“I’m trying to be…”

You smile in spite of your current emotions and the general mood of the situation, doing your best to be something positive, something gentle, something safe for him to focus on.

“There you are…”

You say it to yourself as much as to him, relieved to finally hear his voice, as laced with pain as it sounds. You hold out your hand near where his lie balled into fists in his lap, offering him contact without forcing it on him.

“I want you to keep trying, okay? Do your best to come back into the present with me. You can take my hand, if you’d like?”

He stares down at your offered hand for a long moment before shakily unballing one of his fists. He hesitates, fingers trembling, before reaching out and placing his hand in yours. His skin is even colder than usual and slightly damp to the touch, and you couldn’t be less put off, or give less of a fuck about the messy state of him right now, or ever, if you’re being honest. You just want to help him, however you can.

You curl your warm fingers around his palm, wanting to pull him into a hug so badly but restraining yourself, letting him call the shots.

“You’re okay now, Star. You’re safe right now, here with me. We’re safe.”

He’s quiet for another long moment as he shuts his eyes tight, taking in your words. His other fist unfurls, and his body trembles almost imperceptibly.

“I… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Your heart breaks.

“Honey, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all, I promise you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, his voice an insistent whisper.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your shoulders drop from where they’d been tensely held up, body slumping with a silent sigh as you watch him still try to hold this wall up between the two of you. You’d made it past a number of his walls already, but this one… this one you’ve yet to be granted access behind.

“It’s okay to cry, you know?”

Another shake of his head, this time with far more force behind it, almost vehement.

“No.”

You soften your voice, insisting.

“Yes. It is. You can cry now, Astarion. No one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna judge you. I swear on my life, that’s the truth.”

His breaths become more labored, uneven and shaking.

“You aren’t his anymore. The old rules don’t apply. You can let it out, now. No one, and I mean no one, is going to punish you for it.”

His eyes pinch closed and his head shakes hard side to side, like he’s fighting his own mind, and his hand opens and closes like it wants to grab onto something. He then moves, wrapping his free hand around your arm and suddenly you’re being pulled toward him, desperately, insistently.

You follow the motion as he continues to tug at you, first leaning forward and propping yourself up with your other hand on the ground as he continues to pull you closer. You quickly gather what he wants as he lets go of your hand in favor of latching onto your other arm, pulling you upward, choking back tears all the while.

You raise up on your knees and his hands move once again to hook beneath your arms as you allow yourself to be pulled up onto his lap with physical strength you keep forgetting he possesses. Hooking your legs around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into you. His arms wrap tightly around your waist and he buries his face into the fabric of your shirt at the collar, muffling the soft sound of his crying which has now turned to full-blown sobs.

He’s still shockingly quiet in spite of it all, and you imagine it’s a mixture of being unable to let go of what’s ingrained into him, and not wanting to alert the entire camp to his current breakdown.

Your thumbs stroke up and down in place on his back, not wanting to let go of your hold on him but still wanting to give him some sort of comforting motion to focus on. Besides, you figure petting across the entire expanse of his scarred back might do the opposite of calming him down, so you refrain and keep your arms wrapped firmly around him. Turning your head down toward his, you whisper to him in between soft kisses to his temple.

“That’s it, love. Let it out.”

“You’re safe now, Astarion, I swear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“You have every right to cry. No one ever should’ve taken that away from you.”

He grips you even tighter as you shower him with painfully unfamiliar affection and acceptance, comfort unlike anything he’s ever felt before in his horribly long life. His forehead presses against your right shoulder as his crying slows, trying to ground himself and catch his breath. You make a point of holding him securely against you, breathing slow and deep to give him an example to follow.

You catch movement in your periphery and glance over at Karlach as she quietly sits up and makes a series of silent lip movements and hand gestures that you don’t entirely grasp. You work them out to mean that she’s gonna take over watch for the rest of the night, and you can rest with Astarion. You send her a grateful look and mouth a “thank you,” to which she waves you off with what you think you read as a silent “don’t mention it” on her lips.

After a short while spent focused on slowing down his breath and bringing him fully out of his memories and back here with you, you whisper quiet words in his ear.

“Your work is done, Astarion. You can rest now.”

You mean it in both possible interpretations of the words, and he seems to understand that, his body finally relaxing against yours for the first time tonight.

“You wanna lie down with me, love?”

He seems like he almost nods, but stops himself, whispering back in an exhausted voice, scratchy and thick from crying.

“Someone has to keep watch.”

You hesitate to inform him that Karlach has already taken over that role for tonight, sure that he’d get no sleep at all if he knew she’d witnessed this. You know you’re gonna be awake watching over him for the rest of the night anyways, so instead, you offer a compromise.

“I can hold you and keep watch at the same time, love. Just… let me sit and you can lay against me.”

He gives the suggestion a moment of thought before nodding his head, reluctantly loosening his hold on you. You maneuver the both of you carefully so as to avoid allowing his tired eyes to catch sight of your obviously awake companion sitting behind him.

It isn’t much of a task considering his eyes are halfway closed already, his only remaining focus locked on you. You settle down at the head of his bedroll, guiding him to lie down and bringing his head to rest in the center of your lap.

Your hands take turns gently combing fingers through his white curls, and you feel his tense shoulders begin to relax at the feeling. You bring a thumb down and gently stroke over the lines creasing his brow, quietly encouraging him to release the tension he likely doesn’t realize he’s holding. You watch him pull in a deep, albeit still slightly unsteady breath, and you can practically feel the relief that washes over him when he exhales.

Words aren’t necessary between the two of you at this point, not in this moment, but you offer him a few anyways, hoping they’ll resonate in his tired mind as he slips into sleep.

“You’re safe here, Star. Rest easy.”

A/N: Like I said in the CWs, I haven't played the game for myself (yet!) so I only know what I've seen in the hours of (mostly Astarion-focused) scenes I've watched on YT. As a result, this might have read a bit funny if I've gotten certain details wrong. For instance- I have no idea how resting at the camp actually goes, whether or not someone keeps watch all night, etc. Also I'm not sure if Astarion even needs to actually sleep or if he meditates/falls into a trance and just calls it sleep, but for the sake of simplicity, (and me being clueless,) when I say he falls into sleep just assume he's doing whatever he'd normally do to rest. On a different note- this little fic was inspired by a combination of two things. The lovely art and additional commentary on this post, by @velnna , and also by me listening to Midnight Hour by Sierra Eagleson on loop for like, an hour, and daydreaming up this specific scene before proceeding to write it out. It is a beautiful song that is now the title and theme-song for this fic, and I encourage you to go give it a listen if you haven't heard it already. Header Image Source: x

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #my writing #man. this may be the quickest turnover/turnaround whateverthewordis on a fic that i've ever made happen #i usually sit on an idea and then a draft for ages before posting smthn. so given that it's only been a couple days #between the initial idea and the finished posted fic. wow. groundbreaking speeds for me #the power of hyperfixation (and love)#y'know. i've noticed a trend #why is it that nearly every time i write for a new character the first scenario i place them in involves crying #and having Reader hold/comfort them #i did it with Eddie i did it with Venti i'm doing it with Astarion. who's next. who's next in the Reverse Comfort lineup huh #idk why that's my go-to scenario it just is. maybe i do have a type. (characters that need to have a good cry in their beloved's arms)#or maybe perhaps it is i that needs the good cry and i am projecting. who knows. 'tis a mystery (it's both)#anyways i know this fic is a bit short but i just. had one little specific scene i wanted to write and that's it!#i do plan on making more for him though. i've already got another idea brewing in my brain #also sorry if 'honey' and 'love' aren't your go-to pet names. or if you wouldn't call him Star #my own style of speech heavily influences what i have Reader say in my fics and i can't help itttttt. everything i write is self-insert lma #*lmao (i’m on mobile rn i’m not retyping all of that just to add the last letter)#(yes i’m posting this from mobile cause i took a nap and overslept and missed the time i wanted to post this at. so now i am In A Rush #smthn smthn self imposed deadlines smthn smthn ‘i know the guy that made the rules and he’s a total pushover’ anyways it’s fine. post draft

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