Pitch Black (Astarion X Reader)

Pitch Black (Astarion x Reader)

TW - panic attack, claustrophobia, themes of death/rotting

I based this off some sad lore I found out about him yesterday :(

Recommended Song: Rainy Day Loop - SALES

There's a lot of things Astarion hasn't told you. You don't mind, because a lot of those things are hard to relive. Everything he tells you comes with a price, but he does it mostly out of necessity. There are times you know something lies deeper, and yet you don't pry. It will come to light if he decides it needs to.

However, he never told you about one of the first truly cruel things Cazador did. How one day he refused him, told him no for once. He woke up buried six feet under, starving in undeath for an entire year until his master dug him up again. That was the last time he disobeyed.

This led to a fear he never told you about, claustrophobia, that terrifying feeling of being unable to escape small spaces. He doesn't like closets, this you knew, but you assumed it was because they're dark and sad, not because they're small rooms.

One morning you're sleeping, peaceful, arms wrapped around him tight. He wakes up before you, calm at first. When he realizes his discomfort at feeling trapped in your arms, he gently tries to move you off of him, but you grab back in your slumber, not knowing what's going on beyond the barrier of sleep. That first wave of panic sets in as you wrap yourself tighter than before, and he freezes up, remembering the smell of musty dirt and bones. He tries to scoot away, and you unknowingly pull him in again. That second time is enough for him to feel fully trapped, and without thinking he bites down hard on your arm.

"GODS!"

You bolt up out of your sleep, holding your arm, realizing it was Astarion who caused the sudden alarm. He sits at the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, still trying to ground himself. You try to ask him things, why the hell he'd do that to you, but he can't hear your questions. The worms, the beetles, at some point you become accustomed to the tiniest sounds. He wondered if they'd start to eat away at him, if vampires were like corpses, if he would slowly decompose in the ground. You go to touch his hand and he yanks it away, standing up.

"Astarion!"

And he finally turns to see you on the bed, your arm bleeding badly, how concerned you look. He can't speak though. Footsteps, people passing by, unable to scream because of how tightly packed the sediment is. You try anyways.

"Aster, listen to me. I need you to listen to me, okay?"

You're panicking. You haven't seen him this bad in a while. He's not there, at least not truly there. To be knocked out, only to wake up in pitch black, what a horror.

"I think you're having a panic attack my love, can you try to focus on one thing in the room?"

A painting, a landscape of a graveyard. He was put in a graveyard, some kind of cruel joke. His eyes wander to the frame, golden, like thread. He remembers stitching little phrases and stories into his clothes, he remembers the first time he did such a craft for you. The breathing starts to settle, still shaking, he sits back down next to you, and just starts sobbing. You go to hug him and he flinches.

"No!"

You are almost taken aback, but you remember that it's not your fault.

"Okay, that's okay. I'll just sit here with you."

He just cries for a while, and you let him. Clearly something startled him badly, badly enough that he bit you. You forgot until now that you were bleeding. Not only did his fangs pierce, but many of the rest of his teeth got through the skin. As you're analyzing your wound, you take part of the blanket and press it into your arm, trying to stop the bleeding. Astarion notices the movement, and you see guilt overcome his face immediately. You interrupt before he can speak.

"It's okay darling, I know you didn't mean it."

He wipes at his tears, finally coming back to reality, truly grounding himself.

"I... I'm sorry."

"I know, it's okay."

He stares at a crack in the floorboards.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He nods, mainly because he hates it when you're confused.

"So... a long time ago, Cazador decided it would be fun to bury me alive."

He almost laughs at how ridiculous it is, how someone could even think to do that. You just listen.

"And I stayed there for an entire year. And I don't know how it happened, but you tried to hug me tighter while you were asleep, and I- I just panicked, I felt so trapped and it just reminded me so much of-"

He can't even bring himself to say it again.

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

He scoffs.

"Yeah, you were asleep, and I freaked out like a monster and bit you."

He gazes down at the wound, wincing at what he's done.

"Hey, look at me. Wounds heal, I'll be okay. What matters is that you're okay."

"I... I think I'm okay now. Just, feel miserable."

"That's okay, you're allowed to feel however you want."

"I know. Thank you my sweet."

He picks your hand up off the bed, holding it to his face. It takes weeks after for him to be hugged again, especially being the little spoon, but you don't mind. You'll go through every phase of his, good and bad. This one just happens to be bad, and that's okay. He'll be okay. You'll both be okay.

[baby fever ] ft. kageyama tobio

wc: 300

divider from @/cafekitsune

iwaizumi | ushijima | atsumu | osamu | sakusa

“Have you ever thought about having a kid?” 

“A kid?” you echo. 

He nods, the sunset light dyeing his face in an orange-red hue. 

“Tobio,” you laugh lightheartedly. “Is this what you’re thinking so hard about?”

He looks put out by your laugh, the sure signs of a budding Tobio Tantrum. “Yeah.” 

“Tobio, we’re so young! Maybe one day…” 

He nods, but you’ve known him for so long, you notice the slight puff of his cheeks and jut of his bottom lip. 

“Tobio, are you seriously pouting about this?” 

“‘M not pouting. I don’t pout.” he says as he crosses his arms over his chest. Turns his cheek away from you. 

Tobio gets like this with you sometimes. And he always gets over it. So you just laugh his attitude off and continue the walk home with a sullen Tobio toddling behind you. 

It’s only later that night when the two of you are in bed that he broaches the topic again. 

“But the others have them already,” he grumbles against your back. 

“What?” you say, turning around to face him in the darkness. 

“I thought you were asleep.” 

“Nope. What did you say?” 

He tucks his chin inward, hiding his face. “Oikawa already has kids. Even stupid Hinata has ‘em.” 

“Tobio,” you sputter in disbelief. “It’s not a contest!” 

“But I’m ready.” he says, blue eyes clear and sure even in the dark. “And I love you. Don’t you?” He looks at you expectantly. 

“I guess I’ve just never thought seriously about it. But… I don’t not want a baby with you.” you offer hesitantly. 

He lights up like a christmas tree. “You mean it?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I love you and…”

He doesn’t let you finish because he’s already all over you, body flipped on top of yours, hands reaching under your shirt, and lips tracing your face. 

“Love you too. Love you so much…” he slurs between kisses. 

And you were going to finish your thought by saying that the two of you need to talk it through thoroughly, preferably when you aren’t drunk with sleep, but his kisses are turning you into mush and now you’re feeling drunk on something else and this one’s a secret, but the image of your pouting Tobio gives you visions of a future baby who pouts exactly like their father.

POV: you wake up at your lover's side

a/n: set between acts 2 and 3; implied act 2 spoilers.

You wake up in a bed. It wouldn’t be abnormal, you think, apart from the fact that you’ve been camping on the road to Baldur’s Gate for days. You should be upon a bedroll with the stars overhead, not in a bedroom with the sound of a dying fire in one ear and the rhythm of ocean waves in the other.

It isn’t the sounds or sights that you recognize; it’s the feeling. A mystic warmth surrounds you; you’re subconsciously aware that everything you touch is an illusion, and the fact is ever-present in your slowly waking mind.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the caress of a shared daydream. It’s a vision that’s not your own, but you welcome it into your mind anyway. Besides, the hand that rubs your hip, the chest that presses against your back, and the breath on the crown of your head are all quite real.

“You needed this,” Gale murmurs in your ear. “After Ketheric—”

You smile to yourself, refraining from pointing out that Gale, who is blessedly still here, needed this, too. “And what is ‘this,’ exactly?”

He chuckles, and a rustling of sheets signals what’s about to come: Gale now moves like a man who knows he’s no longer on borrowed time. You’re entranced by the way one hand settles beside your head, while one knee swings over your hip. His center of gravity shifts, and he’s up above you, leaning down to lay his lips on your forehead.

“A good morning,” he says with a somber undertone, still used to the weight of his personal burdens. “A moment of quiet.”

Your smile grows. You reach up to cup his face with one hand, fingers grazing over stubble, while your other hand rests lightly on the back of his neck. “Quiet could be had at camp.”

A flash of mischief passes through his eyes, making him look younger and more full of life than you’ve ever seen him.

“Not,” he teases, leaning down again, but stopping before his smiling lips touch yours, “without prying eyes.”

Beautiful things come alive in your heart. Happiness. Anticipation. Romance. A sense of normalcy you haven’t felt since long before the tadpole. Who would have thought that a few grand illusions and several near-death experiences were all it would take to get you there? 

In bed, in the arms of a lover who touches your heart in ways no other ever has.

You lean upward, but you don’t need to move very far to reach him. With just a little tilt of your chin, your lips cover his in a kiss so sweet that your senses resonate like the most sublime of songs. You’re here, wherever here is, and so is he. Your hands touch his skin, and his touch yours. The little sigh he lets out reaches your ears, and you can taste him and all the life that’s reawakened in his soul.

When he pulls away, eyes full of a love that warms the very energy of the illusory room, you whisper, “Thank you.”

One side of his brow quirks up, but his smile hasn’t faded. “I’ll accept your thanks, but they’d be better if I knew what they were for.”

How could you ever answer that? There isn’t enough time to explain how grateful you are that he’s alive, here, with you. That he’s given himself the chance to chase what’s real instead of that which he cannot see.

So, you shake your head and reach to entwine your fingers with his. And then you settle upon thanking him for what he is: “Everything.”

Spawn!Astarion x reader after the events of BG3

Warnings: g/n reader, has mild nsfw part, ptsd mentions, past sexual abuse mentions, also spoilers of the ending, obviously.

Astarion is still afraid of depending too much on you - now being unable to step in the sun once again. Sometimes counting days, then weeks, then years holding on to the thought of you getting tired of him and his complications in the back of his head.

Has flashbacks, and occasional visions of Cazador or Godey torturing him when he meditates from time to time, covering his anxiety with the usual bravado in front of you, not wanting to bother you all the time.

Still, he is as open with you as he can get, opening the darkest parts of his life as a spawn to you carefully and slowly.

Now that he’s his own person, there’s only three things he’s pursuing: finding a cure for vampirism, you, and having as much fun as possible, of course!

He likes to spend some nights with you, visiting taverns and showing you with a devilish smile what a good vine is at last. Giddily waiting for your reaction as he watches you bringing the goblet to your lips.

He relishes catching glimpses of him and you while being among people, proudly parading his lover around. Astarion is genuinely admiring you and your beauty, being happy of being seen in your company.

Some days he’s very clingy and handsy, begging for your affections, while other days he might still avoid any physical contact with you. All he needs is more patience, and of course, you have a never-ending well of it when it comes to him.

Totally appreciates when you go hunting with him, whether it’s a wild boar (lol) or an occasional criminal, loving to be able to be seen as a person, not as a monster by you and not afraid of making you feel repulsed by him, though sometimes he still wonders why.

I also can see him occasionally indulging in feeling like a knight in shining armor and a savior of wronged and weak, definitely immensely enjoying cutting throats of people exploiting others in any way.  

NSFW

Now that he’s his own man and he can explore his sexuality freely I believe he’s more into being tender and loving things when it comes to sex, contrary to the popular opinion.

Not that he can’t get freakier on some days. And if you want him to bite you in the process? Who’s he to refuse his darling?

Enjoys hearing your little yelps of pain followed by moans of pleasure when he sinks his teeth in your thighs, wrists, or neck. Wherever is your preference.

He definitely leans more into being a top, not because he’s in the role of seducer, but just preferring to maintain control of the situation.

He also oh so loves the fact that he’s the one that makes your body weak for him, enjoying pulling out all sorts of pretty sounds out of you, enjoying the way you pliantly take everything he gives you. Making you a pouting begging mess, tearfully asking him to give you more, to allow you to come at last not being able to bear his teasing anymore.

Not that Astarion denies you showering him in your tender caress and spending the whole day/night being the one taken care of this time now that he doesn’t have to always be the one to pleasure someone. It’s a novel concept for him and he still feels too bare and vulnerable sometimes, but he learns how to say no if he’s not up to something. It’s so much easier now that you’ve proven to him time and time again that you’ll always listen to him and agree with whatever he wants.

I've been in love with this man for two years since I've started playing EA, but wanted to postpone writing anything until I see all of his layers. And it's been the best decision ever. I'm such a sucker (😏) for this elf and I still am astonished how nuanced and beautifully portrayed his character is. This is just my first touches of writing him, so it's pretty short and not really explicit.

My Starry Sky - Astarion x F!Reader

Reader and Astarion have their first real argument and have to go through the aftermath.

“Come to bed early, spend some time with me?” Astarion whispered in your ear, crimson eyes still a bit watery.

There wasn’t any other answer to give. “Of course love,” you took his hand and gave it a soft squeeze, desperate to reassure him after what had happened earlier.

Going into this, you knew how he could be, how he lashed out sometimes, and why. That hadn’t made the first time he directed it at you after your mutual confession any easier. Maybe you had thought finally sharing your feelings would change that part of him, a selfish wish. “Damn it, are you just going to ignore me all day!” He snapped at you on the road, drawing questioning looks from your other companions.

“What?” You’d turned back to him, confusion knitting your brows together.

“You heard me.” Around you, you could sense everyone stepping away, wisely giving the two of you space, despite the fact that you were in a desolate, cursed place. The locale was probably not helping the tension.

“I’m not ignoring you!” The first mistake you made in that conversation, a sharp tone, fire returned.

“So I’m just imagining that you’ve hardly said two words to me for hours but have been more than happy to prattle on with everyone else.” He doubled down, and you could tell he wasn’t going to hear you. “Or you're lying.”

The accusation stung, did he think so little of you? Maybe this was all a mistake. And just like that, all the worries, the struggles, and this blasted place boiled over, and you were the one who lashed out. “This isn’t going to work, we’re not going to work, if you’re going to act like this!” The second mistake.

Eyes going wide, his posture changed in an instant. It was like he tried to make himself smaller, to get away from the pain of your words. “Please no, I’m sorry.” His voice shook and if he had any need of breathing he would have been gasping. “Gods, I’ve already ruined it.” Tears had started to spill down his cheeks.

With horror, you realized what you’d done. You’d threatened him into compliance, even if you had done so out of hurt. Were you no better than Cazador? In a rush, you threw your arms around him pulling him close, frantic to relieve the hurt you’d caused. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” After a second of hesitation, you felt his arms encircle you as he sniffled into your hair. "That was wrong of me."

It took a few moments of soft whispers and soothing until he would let you go. "Let's just forget this," you prompted and he readily agreed.

The hurtful words and accusations stuck with you though and you excused yourself as soon as dinner was over. Taking you by the hand, Astarion leads you to his tent, where you'd been sleeping most nights lately. With a soft gasp, you note small enchanted motes of light, dancing at the top of the tent. "Gale's work," you ask, staring at them with enchantment.

"I don't want to know what he's going to ask me in return," he chuckles but it’s strained and struggling.

“At least he’s not looking for magic to eat anymore.” With a quick brush of your lips against his cheek, you lower yourself down to the waiting nest of blankets the two of you spend your nights wrapped around each other in. Your hand still in his pulls him along with you.

An open bottle of wine and two glasses were waiting and you readily take one after he pours it. The two of you sit close enough that shoulders and thighs touch, a small comfort after the harshness of the day, and you lean your head on his shoulder. “I love you, you know that right?” Desperately, you want him to know it, even with all the complications, you sincerely love him.

“I know,” he finishes the glass of wine, and you note that he seems off still. “I love you too,” he pours another and drinks deeply. It was a rough day all around though, and you don’t want to push it.

Moments later you’re surprised as a pale, slender hand reaches down to tilt your chin up off his shoulder and kiss you. The taste of the wine lingers on his lips and you drink in the intimacy of it on your tongue. Your glass is taken from your grasp as the kiss deepens, lips parting invitingly to him. Hands wrap around your waist and your stomach flutters, you’ve missed being touched like this by him. A trail of soft bites is traced from your lips down your neck as his hands work their way under your shirt caressing the sensitive skin of your breasts. Reaching up, you grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a soft moan escapes you. “My sweet girl,” he murmurs against your throat and your blood runs cold.

That isn’t him, he sounds a thousand miles away, and so empty. “I thought you weren’t ready for this.”

A thumb brushes over a nipple and his teeth dig into your flesh just hard enough to thrill. You swallow the cry you almost make, not wanting to encourage this. “I’ve been thinking it’s time to move on, let go of the past,” his voice tremors and you can tell he’s lying even as he tries to kiss you again.

“Astarion, stop,” gently you push him away and see the panic in his face. “Why are you doing this?”

He looks anywhere but right at you, eyes hazy and unfocused “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Astarion…”

He sighs heavily, breaking down at last. “Well, I thought after today, perhaps you were tiring of me, and that I should do something to win you back. And I can’t seem to get this right either.”

Pain slices through your chest and you feel as though your heart is being torn in two. Carefully, you put your hands on his cheeks. “Look at me,” it’s not a command, but a plea, and he finally brings his eyes to yours. “I love you, and I’m not going to tire of you. Understand?” Wordlessly he nods. “But you are never to try to buy me again with your body, you are worth so much more than that.” A loving kiss on his forehead punctuates your words and you hear him sniffling again.

“I can try, it is so hard to leave behind.” Arms open, you beckon him to you, and you both collapse into the waiting blankets. “It feels like the only thing I know, the only thing I’m good for. And I just want to keep you but I don’t know how else to do it sometimes.”

“Just love me, that’s all I need.” You yearn for nothing but to cover him in soft kisses and hold him forever, so he can know how loved he is, how cherished. “My Starry Sky.”

With his face buried in your neck, he murmurs softly, sounding like his true self again, “my Sunlight.”

when lucifer falls in love

content + warnings: minor s1 of og! game spoilers, discussions of death, nightmares, hurt/comfort, lucifer's regretting the past again // [masterlist]

word count: ~1.2k

it’s the dead of the devildom night. not a single creature dares to stir in the house of lamentation, to interrupt the heavy darkness that lays claim to the kingdom like a siege, like a thick blanket over a fragile child. the night is oppressive at this hour. hell freezes over each night– sizzling temperatures plummet to biting cold, a violent swing that dares all to be prepared for any weather. 

it starts as uncharacteristic shuffles. tossing and turning at an hour he should usually be asleep, shifting from one side to another without waking. sweat peppers his hairline. his fingers twitch once, twice, eyelids fluttering restlessly. something’s going wrong. where there should be peace, there’s chaos, his dreams infested with something dark and unpleasant. 

lucifer morningstar wakes violently with a nightmare. 

his body jerks in panic, rising to a seated position before he can even fathom what’s going on. adrenaline floods his veins. fear grips him hard, and his labored breathing is the only sound that fills his senses for several long moments. 

memories swirl together at the top of his consciousness, a glossy oil slick of tangible emotion and thought. 

the great celestial war. bloodshed. the violent division of his family, of heaven itself, at the folly of his own pride. he can feel lilith’s body limp in his arms, chest rising with strained effort, her own blood soiling the angelic robes she once wore. she was beautiful. so innocent and pure. her only folly was falling victim to a love that should have never existed. a love he should have stopped earlier on, should have reigned in before things continued to deteriorate. his fault. it’s his fault that everything went down the way it did. 

the sound of your breathing finally catches his attention when his own begins to steady out. you’re fast asleep next to him– it’s a nice indication that he was able to hold in the cry that burned his throat as to not disturb your peaceful slumber. humans need their rest, after all. 

lucifer slips from his spot in his bed next to you. the bed shifts silently like a willing accomplice, letting his exit go unnoticed. a quick glance over his shoulder– you’re still unconscious, blissfully unaware of his departure– and he stumbles out into his office. 

he flicks his wrist haphazardly and the fireplace sparks to life. tired feet carry him to a nearby chair and he slumps, defeated into the cushions. 

in the dead of night, when he’s alone, his mind wanders to his mistakes. some nights, like tonight, they creep into his dreams– regret, uncertainty, moments of tranquility ruined by the stormcloud of war creeping into the foreground. was he wrong to fight against his Father? did his pride, his actions– have his siblings all been damned in ways they wouldn’t have had he discouraged them from following him? if he had stopped lilith from falling in love with that human in the first place, would his brothers be happier? would lilith still be alive?

that’s the thing about hindsight. he doesn’t know what the best decision was. in another life, maybe lilith lived– but he’ll never know. 

“lucifer?”

his name is garbled and groggy as it falls from your lips. he’s surprised to see you in the doorway– were you not asleep just a few minutes ago?

“yes, my love?”

“what are you doing up? i–” a yawn interrupts you, and you shift on your feet uncomfortably. “-- i missed you.”

an awkward lump settles in his throat. he didn’t realize that you’d noticed his absence. your expression shifts from exhaustion to concern, rubbing your eyes with your fingertips to adjust to the light. 

“i– couldn’t sleep.” he rasps the lie with ease. he doesn’t have the willpower to explain what was really going through his mind.

your bare feet pad quietly across the hardwood floors, steady and lethargic, as you make your way to his side. he watches each step carefully. you still next to him and press a soft, warm kiss to his forehead. 

you’re sweet. that’s the first thing he thinks when your lips find his skin, now tacky from cooling sweat as he reels in his own panic. it’s hard to be so upset when he’s next to you. your hands find the sides of his face and cradle him oh-so-delicately, like too rough a touch will make him scurry off into the darkness. 

“do you want to talk about it?”

he shakes his head. 

“alright,” you murmur, kissing the top of his head and taking a step back. your fingers linger on the side of his face a moment longer before they fall to your sides. “just– don’t stay up too late, alright?”

he nods, watching you shuffle off to the bedroom once again. his heart beats rapidly in his chest from the lingering panic, but it starts to calm as his thoughts wander to you. 

when did disdain become affection? when did suspicious looks turn into forehead kisses? lucifer couldn’t remember a turning point when you became so important to him– it was a slow march with his eyes closed, blind to the storm raging inside of him until push came to shove and his lips met yours. 

now you spend your nights in his bed. he can hardly lull himself to sleep when you’re not there. funny how things change. 

when the panic finally settles, he creeps back into his bedroom. the rhythmic lull of your breathing reassures him. there is no danger here. no death, no war, no mistakes. only you. 

his movements are hesitant as he crawls back in bed. it’s an attempt not to wake you– a failed one. you immediately reach for him in a state of half-consciousness, tucking yourself into his chest as he settles back in his original spot. your hands are smooth against his broad chest, lazily brushing across the skin before winding around him. 

“i got you, luci.”

four little words. barely audible amongst the shuffling of changing positions, but enough to make his heart pound against his ribcage. four little words conveying the depths of the care you have for the demon in your arms. 

oh, how lucifer morningstar loves you so. 

in the darkness of his bedroom, the flush of his cheeks does not announce its presence– yet it’s there, warm and fuzzy like the feeling in his chest, reminding the avatar of pride that he is nothing more than a man. a simple man. he loves his family and his home, the life he lives. and you. by god, he loves you so much that it makes his breath catch in his throat and his fingers tremble against your back. his arms wind around you to return the affection in any way he can. 

he’ll wait to tell you he loves you another day– soon, surely, so he won’t have to carry this burden for long– when he can muster up all the romance and passion you deserve. would dinner be a more appropriate place, or would that be seen as too gaudy? maybe he’ll find a time at him, when the two of you are alone in each other’s arms again. lucifer will iron out the details with time. 

sleep comes for him rather quickly. somewhere in your arms his mind is finally laid to rest, and he drifts off to sleep with the quiet comfort of knowing tomorrow will be a better day.

the nightmares do not return again tonight.

taglist for this series: @deepseafragments // @darkflowerav // @annoying-and-upset // @katerinaval // @lurkingsnails // @chirikoheina // @all-mights-wife // @notareum // @ollieoven