#idk if it counts as spoilers but i’m tagging it anyway | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebigbiwolf · 1 year ago

Text

Starvin' Darlin - Chapter 2

Pairing: Not quite friends to lovers Astarion x OC/F!Tav

Chapter Summary: Seeing Evelyn with Gale stirs up some unfamiliar and VERY unwelcome feelings in Astarion. And for some reason, she graces him with a midnight visit. I'm terrible with summaries but here's what's in store for you:

* A bit of possessive!Astarion if you squint

* More pining

* More biting

* Deep DEEP emotional constipation (my personal favorite)

Fic Tags: Minor spoilers for Act 1, The Bite Scene, Emotional slow burn, Angst, Teasing, Frottage (god I'm sorry), Pining, This is my first ever fic so idk how to tag things appropriately but you get the gist.

Fic Warnings: Eventual Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon (I cannot stress this enough), Bloodlust/Loss of control, Mentions of blood, lmk if you need anything else tagged.

Read on AO3: Here

Word Count: 5k

A/N: School and life have been kicking my ass but I finally got around to finishing this chapter and I couldn't wait to post it! I'm having so much fun writing in Astarion's POV. Huge thank you to my bestie @imaginarydromedary for being the best beta ever and for your endless patience with me.

The morning that follows that fateful night in Evelyn’s tent goes rather well, all things considered.

She approaches Astarion first. A pleasant surprise, considering they could hardly look at each other after he ravaged her the night before.

He looks over the novel he had been skimming, Shanties for the Bitch Queen . Admittedly, not one of his favorites, but reading material was scarce these days. He closes it with a soft thud and rises to meet her, all pleasant smiles and perfectly coiffed hair.

“Good morning.” he says, a curious tilt to his head.

She looks a bit more pale than usual with faded, grim circles forming underneath her eyes. Her bun is a bit unruly, some strands falling into her face and parted by the wine-dark bone of her horns. She either didn’t sleep well or is still reeling from the anemia.

The bruise he administered had spread and darkened, plainly visible even under the black ink of her tattoos. It seems she found no use in hiding it, then. Very well. It’s not like they keep extra scarves laying about the camp, anyway.

“How do you feel?” he asks, gently. He doesn’t mean to provoke her, but his curiosity is getting the better of him, and the slightest hint of shame is beginning to burrow its way into his conscience. Ugh . He thinks he prefers the tadpole.

“A bit woozy.” She responds, “I woke up this morning with the intention of asking you how one usually fares after being drained, but then I remembered,” she stops herself when she realizes what she’s about to say: I was your first. Unspoken, but lingering between them . It makes him want to laugh; A woman with a reputation such as hers acting so bashful .

“It’ll pass,” he reassures, “Just be glad I’m not a true vampire. A bite from one of them and you might wake up as a vampire spawn, like my good self. All of a vampire’s hunger, but few of their powers.”

“Speaking of hunger,” Evelyn says, realizing she’s famished. She turns from him and begins making her way towards the campfire. Finding that only charred logs and old cinders remain, she runs the black tip of her boot through the ashes with the intention of stoking the fire back to life, dust clouding, then dispersing before her.

He follows closely behind, observing. She seems well, all things considered. A bit out of sorts, but nothing a bit of rest couldn’t cure.

“You know, I had considered bringing you an apple,” Astarion starts, hovering by the pit, “Leaving it by your bedside before you rose for the day - ever the gentleman, but,” he clears his throat.

That newly recognizable twinge of something is curling its way back into his chest, causing him to squint in discomfort.

In truth, he didn’t know how she would react to him encroaching on her space. Not after that dreadful attempt on her life. He is a monster, after all. That, and she had already been so insufferably forgiving. Such kindness is likely to reach its end sooner rather than later.

“I - erm, didn’t want to disturb your rest.” is what he finally settles on. Polit , he thinks, Best not overdo it.

“That would have been nice of you.” She says it quietly, more to herself than to him.

“Oh, darling, you have no idea how nice I can be.” The flirtation sneaks its way out of him on an impulse. He’s about to apologize, something he seems to be doing a bit too often for his taste, when out of the corner of his eye, he catches one of their companions making their way towards them.

“It appears we have company.” Astarion sneers, “And here I thought I was going to have you all to myself this morning.”

To the elf’s surprise, most of them were quick to come around to the idea of a vampire spawn slinking about. Especially once they found themselves in the middle of an ambush, and Astarion very quickly made good on his promises to her.

Newfound strength coursed through his body, her blood weaving threads of heat through his veins as if it were his own. His speed was unmatched, cutting down half a dozen goblins before they had a chance to wail.

It was exhilarating .

The day flew by in flashes of red. Despite the many unnecessary stops Evelyn insisted on making to help undesirables, Astarion’s emotional high managed to remain relatively intact. That was, until their group settled in for the night.

As most of the others retired to their tents, the elf prepared for his nightly ritual: sifting through his collection of tomes and selecting one to read under the stars - his favorite way to end the evening.

It was supposed to be perfect. Uneventful. Quiet .

But, there was Gale: lost in thought and muttering to himself, or maybe to the conjured image of some woman’s head floating above his hand. Astarion may have been able to ignore that in itself, but the sound of light footsteps drew his attention.

Evelyn was approaching the wizard.

He scoffs. Of course Gale was showing off in hopes of procuring her attention. The man was practically putting on a damn light show in his desperation. It’s not enough that the wizard eats valuable items they could be using to pawn for coins, but does he really have to be such an unbearable distraction as well?

“Pretty,” he recognizes the word as it leaves her. The sound of their chatter was too faint for it to carry its way to his beautifully pointed ears, but he could just barely read Evelyn’s lips at this angle.

Gale startles, dropping his hand along with his focus. The woman’s visage vanishes. He looks embarrassed, shifting uncomfortably as he no doubt explains himself in some horribly mundane fashion.

Astarion returns to his book, scanning over the page, but the words refuse to settle in his mind. He stares at the ink, willing the sentences to fill his head with anything other than the nonsense unfolding in front of him, but his focus stubbornly remains on the chattering pair.

Gods, he’s talking her ears off.

At any moment, Evelyn will dismiss the man, embarrassing the hells out of him, which will make for an excellent show. That in itself is enough reason to keep watching. But the longer this goes on, the less he’s sure.

She seems to be enjoying their chat, nodding in agreement at Gale’s words, listening to him without so much as a hint of impatience. Gale then steps behind her, a bit too close for the likes of an average, friendly conversation. His chest almost touches the woman’s shoulder as he moves into her space, the cloth of his nightshirt just barely grazing her.

Something within Astarion begins twisting in protest. His thumb runs over the long-forgotten page in circles. The rough texture reminds him that yes, he was supposed to be reading, or at least attempting to look disinterested, but he can't will himself to turn away.

Gale smiles softly down at her, then begins to move his arms in a way that could only be described as a poor imitation of a wounded bird. Purple light emanates in front of the two of them in response. More magic tricks. Of course. As if that would be enough to impress the woman who’s supposedly been at the receiving end of every imaginable courting attempt in Faerun.

Astarion rolls his eyes, content to continue his chapter of The Realm According to Bumpo, before he notices Evelyn following suit, imitating the very same motions. She, however, has a grace about her, unlike the bearded beast at her side. Her movements are quick and decisive, abandoning all flattery for precision. The burst of light emanates from her palms, just as it had for the wizard.

She looks pleased. Elated, even. This is the first time he’s seen her smile since she made a fool out of him in her tent, caressing his body and reveling in its reaction, like he was some sort of toy. Though her expression looks different to him now. He can’t quite place his finger on why.

He swallows, attempting to alleviate the tightness in his throat.

A purple aura starts radiating around them, dancing and swaying in waves, as if the two were surrounded by a flowing channel of lavender, smelling of rosewater; the sun setting over a dark ocean. Even from a distance, the sight pulls at something inside him. An unwelcome ache settles within his chest.

Evelyn turns to the man next to her, unaware that they’ve been drawn closer by the magic enveloping them. She tilts her head back to meet Gale’s gaze. The way he’s looking at her, the flecks of gold in her irises locked with his: deep, brown, and moving, makes Astarion’s skin itch.

He finds himself wondering what color his own eyes were before his transformation. Were they so seemingly honest, so trustworthy in their melanism, before they became what they are now? Sharp, red, and tinted by bloodlust. Wouldn’t they be boring?

“You’re staring.”

He’s pulled from his brooding by the sound of Shadowheart’s observation. He hadn’t noticed her approaching him, distracted by that sickening, sweet smell. “Or has the tadpole gifted you with the ability to telepathically commune with books?”

“I’m simply admiring our wizard’s talents.” Astarion says, dismissing her with a wave, “Making sure all those expensive boots and rings haven’t gone to waste. It would be a pity, wouldn’t it? Unnecessarily sacrificing clothes that may have suited you while you’re having to traipse about in a tin can?”

The cleric snickers, “I see. Is that why you look like a kicked pup? Or, are you upset that your master’s replaced you with a new lapdog?”

He slams the book closed. The sound surprises Evelyn, and the magic surrounding her and Gale dissipates.

He doesn’t dignify Shadowheart with a response, nor does he spare a second glance at the others before retreating to the quiet solace of his tent.

”That wretched little…” He grumbles to himself as soon as he closes the entrance, tossing Bumpo atop the other novels in his collection, all piled haphazardly on the small desk occupying a corner of his living space.

This type of reaction was unusual for him. Astarion would normally be happy to engage in petty banter. The more scathing, the better, but Shadowheart had somehow weaseled her way into a tender area. It left him feeling exposed, and a bit nauseated at the idea of allowing someone so clearly beneath himself, at least in terms of wit, to get the better of him.

Taking a deep breath, Astarion focuses on releasing the tension in his jaw. Best not to let this ruin his entire night, he reasons, before lighting several half-melted candles littering his quarters. Their flames emanate a soft, golden glow, and the process is meditative enough to finish soothing him.

He doesn’t have watch tonight, so he allows himself some extra comfort, removing his shirt before sinking down into the soft furs of his bedroll. Astarion closes his eyes to trance, thinking the extra rest will do him some good, but the image of Evelyn rushes back to his mind - the way her soft lips parted in surprise, realizing her and Gale’s close proximity, and how his gaze flitted down to her mouth in return..

The wizard should be wearing a damn collar around his neck with how she commands his attention. It’s pathetic.

It couldn’t be a matter of coincidence, surely. She must know the effect she has on the man. If Gale harbors feelings for her ( yuck ), even if it were the result of close quarters, Evelyn could use it to her advantage. She had just revealed the effectiveness of similar tactics to him last night, and a powerful wizard would be a powerful ally.

Whereas, Astarion is just… a vampire spawn. Not even a true vampire. A slave. A nobody.

He rubs his face in frustration. The Sharran did have a point. Astarion may have an insatiable appetite, happy to receive all matters of attention from whatever suitors decide to shower him with it, but what about her? What if Evelyn found him less interesting, less worthy of her time and, subsequently, her protection?

No. His ego balks at the suggestion.

Besides, he had felt her lust for him not 24 hours ago. It moved through him as though it was his own, and the taste of her still lingers on his tongue. He heard the hitch in her breath - felt it under his own lips, and reliving the memory still stirs a familiar hunger within him.

Though, they still haven’t spoken about it.

The usually quiet, insecure part of him wonders if she’d just rather forget it altogether. He could empathize with that, at least. It’s easy enough for him to imagine their last encounter may have left her feeling disgusted, used.

Guilt worms its way back into his mind, cozying up right next to his tadpole but oh, so much worse .

He hasn’t felt like this since the beginning of his servitude. He assumed the emotion had been neglected long enough to be left entirely behind him, overshadowed by the threat of whatever new, interesting ways Cazador would think of to torture him at the mere suggestion of disobedience. But here, in the thin veil of safety he’s allowed himself to believe shrouds him, he aches.

It’s unbecoming.

Instead of resting as he should, Astarion isn’t quite sure how much time he spends ruminating on ways to quietly rid the party of Gale, before he hears the faintest rapping at the canvas of his tent.

At first, he believes he imagined it, and gives the noise little consideration before settling back into his trance. But then, he hears it again: quick, rapid tapping. A knock.

It surprises him. He hurriedly moves to stand. In the faint glow of the candlelight, the shadow at his doorstep dances against the closed fabric, smaller than himself and horned. A visit from Evelyn at this hour? Strange.

He undoes the ties and opens his space to her.

Her hair is undone, dark waves falling over her shoulders and obscuring the marks he gave her. She’s wearing the same clothes she wore to bed last night, the very same black breast band. It smells as if it's been washed, though, with no lingering scent of her blood. Her loose, matching trousers settle high on her waist, just above her navel. She looks exhausted.

Being run ragged by the events of the day while also having to contend with a missing pint or two of blood may have had more of a negative effect than anticipated.

Evelyn doesn’t say anything at first, but he catches her eyes glancing at his bare chest before retreating back to his own, cementing themselves there. He raises an eyebrow at her, smirking, and thinks about teasing her. The temptation threatens to get the better of him, but he refrains, not wanting this unexpected visit cut too short. “Need something?”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Her stare is unwavering, a commitment worthy of admiration.

“Right this way.” Astarion bows slightly towards her, an arm raised behind him to gesture her inside. She steps past him, careful to not brush against his exposed skin. He closes the entrance behind them, shutting out the ambient noise and drowning them in silence. His space is large enough to accommodate himself and his essentials quite comfortably, but it's infinitely smaller with her here.

“I hope I didn’t disturb you.” there is a hoarseness to her voice. She must have woken up just before making her way over.

“No, actually. I was just catching up on some reading.” Not entirely a lie. He had been reading at several points tonight. “What is it you want to discuss? I’m assuming there’s a reason this couldn’t wait until morning, not that I mind.”

“It's about you.”

Oh. No midnight gossip, then.

"I’ve been thinking about how we’re going to continue feeding you.”

“You’ve been up all night tossing and turning because you're concerned about my eating habits?” he responds, unamused, and crosses his arms.

“I have not been tossing and -” she’s about to argue with him, he thinks, but her exasperation causes her to lose her concentration. She breaks eye contact, distracted by the toned curves of his biceps, then snaps her gaze to the floor. “Would you please put on a shirt?”

“Ha!” His laugh is humorless. “I’d like to think we’re well past the point of propriety. Besides, you're in my tent.”

Evelyn pinches the bridge of her nose. “I knew this was a mistake.”

“Come now, darling. Why are you really here?”

She sighs in frustration, as if he should already know.

“I wanted to talk about last night.”

“Ugh, I’ve already apologized. What more do you want?”

A moment passes in uncomfortable silence. He can practically hear the gears grinding in her head as she searches for the right words, and he'd give anything to reach out with his tadpole and take the unfiltered thoughts from her mind. Instead, he takes pity on her.

“Unless, you’re looking for another nibble?”

It's a joke, a way to clear the tension from the air. Entirely unserious.

She doesn't laugh.

Instead, she looks around the room: first at his assortment of decorative pillows, then to the empty elixir bottles piled in a corner, anywhere but himself. "Well, I - I don’t know.” She clears her throat. “I just figured after today’s performance, it may be for the best.”

Wait. What?

He stiffens, so taken aback by her suggestion that the elf almost believes he’s still mid-trance.

“What?”

“I may be willing to help you again, when necessary.”

She has to be joking.

“You’re joking.”

“No. I’m serious, if it would help.”

“It would.”

“Then, yes.”

They stand almost toe to toe, Astarion once again absorbing her warmth. He hadn’t noticed their height difference the first time they did this, too busy devouring the poor woman like some deranged beast, but it's notable here, on equal footing. Peering up at him, her nose aligns with his collarbones.

"Tonight, then?" she asks.

"Eager, are we?"

She shrugs with indifference, "Just in case we run into any trouble at the goblin camp tomorrow."

The very picture of practicality. What else did he expect?

"Alright, then."

"Alright."

That nagging sensation begins to tug at him again - the very same one he felt as he had stepped out of her tent last night. A weak but unshakeable tension, like a magnet, uncomfortable as it is alluring. The force of it draws his body closer to hers where she stands, hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Underneath her calm exterior, Evelyn’s heart is pounding. Though her breaths are steady, controlled, he can hear it from where he stands. For a moment, those are the only sounds filling the space between them, until the tiefling speaks up.

“You’re tall, for an elf.”

An oddly-timed observation, but a true one. His brother, Petras, was always outwardly envious of him for it. Though, he's not sure why it sounds so flattering coming from her lips.

“How kind of you to notice.”

She scans the room, searching for something, until she spots the table. Her fingers run along the dark ringlets in the wood, tracing the hardened puddles of forgotten wax, until they reach his heaping pile of books. She taps her fingertips on his leather bound copy of Bumpo .

“May I?”

He nods, unsure of what’s been asked of him.

Evelyn gathers the novels in her arms before piling them carefully onto the floor in a few leveled stacks, clearing the space. ”That should be enough room for one of us to sit,” she says, evenly.

Then, there is a heavy silence; anticipation. It hangs in the air thick as smoke, twice as suffocating. She's only taken a few steps from him, but it’s as though she’s crossed an ocean. The distance between them begins to develop its own gravitational pull, making the hairs on his arms stand on end.

“Whatever’s most comfortable, dear."

The tiefling nods, then plants herself on the table’s surface, legs hanging over the edge. Evelyn is now eye-level with him, her irises glossy; catching and reflecting what little light dances off the few remaining candles beside her.

She tilts her head at him, expectantly. Her face remains neutral - practiced, as though she feels nothing at all; as if she isn’t trying to drive him mad.

She’s back to playing her little games.

Fine.

Astarion’s posture straightens as he strides towards her, confidently closing their distance. He places his hands at her sides, not quite touching her, but still close enough to feel the heat emanating from her body, even through her clothes.

“Now, where would you like it?” The question sounds innocent enough, but the double meaning is not lost on her.

Her grip tightens at the table’s edge, knuckles whitening.

His head tilts downwards, looming over her like a predator, and the scent of vanilla invades his nostrils. The sweetness settles on his palate before spreading across his tongue, coating it with a rum-like burn. He runs the flavor over the sharp edges of his teeth.

"I could do it here," he whispers, dipping his nose and running the tip of it along her nape. He quietly revels in how she prickles beneath him, her body betraying her feigned indifference.

"Or, here." One of his thumbs trace the flat of her wrist in slow, circular motions, causing the pulse beneath it to flutter.

"Or…" His other hand slides atop her knee, fingers gripping and parting her thighs just slightly…

She snaps them shut.

"Just do it, dickhead."

He hums a laugh.

“As you wish.”

The cool brush of Astarion’s lips on her neck has Evelyn’s heart racing, a frantic drum beating against his ears. It’s just as intoxicating as he remembers, threatening to muddle the edges of his mind. “Just try to keep still for me.” he whispers.

The warning is sincere, but the stubborn woman misinterprets him. Thinking he’s toying with her, she opens her mouth, intent on insulting him, but stops short, whining pitifully when his fangs break the surface of her skin. Her body flinches at the initial discomfort, but otherwise remains virtually motionless; compliant.

Drinking from her now feels like an entirely new experience. This time, he anticipates the raging current - knows how to find his footing. Rather than being ripped under, it feels as though Astarion is floating, enveloped in warmth unlike any he’s ever known. At best, he would imagine it similar to a hug, had he ever been on the receiving end of one.

He begins to lap at the wound to keep it from closing, the press and drag of his tongue drawing out a few small, involuntary twitches from the girl. She’s being so good for him, staying put like she’d been told; fighting her own restlessness, the urge to squirm in place.

If only she would allow him to reward her, to offer his body in exchange for this endless parade of favors, he would take the chance in a heartbeat. It would be so, so easy with her, unlike any miserable encounter he’d been forced into partaking in the last few centuries. He knows he would enjoy her body, along with all the lovely little sounds she would make for him; the temporary bliss.

And it would be a fair price to pay for keeping him safe, fed, and warm .

The mental image has Astarion’s hand moving without his knowledge, too engrossed to notice his own palm caressing the side of her face. His thumb traces the edge of her cheek as he holds her there, allowing the weight of her head to rest against his fingers. Dark strands of hair brush against his knuckles, bringing him back to the present.

He thinks Evelyn hasn’t noticed yet, believes himself safe to correct the mistake without any mutual discomfort.

Which leaves him infinitely more overwhelmed when her smaller hand grazes up the length of his arm, wrapping it around his wrist to keep it in place. Her body relaxes into his touch, seemingly more grounded.

The intimacy is like a punch to the chest.

She’s suddenly too close for comfort. It’s claustrophobic - suffocating, strangling him along with whatever sense he had left, apparently. That damned vanilla, the dizzying scent of her blood -

Air, he thinks, I just need some fresh air.

Astarion pulls away from her, readying an apology and an excuse to swiftly dismiss the woman.

But when Evelyn meets his gaze, the words die prematurely.

She is a vision , freckles dappling her skin like star-covered porcelain, now flushed red from nose to cheeks. The whites of her eyes have gone glossy, dazed and dream-like, tempting him further into her space.

Her tongue darts out to wet her parted lips, the small gesture commanding his attention. He finds himself entirely fixated on them, as if it would take another life-altering, unnatural disaster to pull his focus away.

Evelyn’s lashes flutter in recognition, then she quickly releases his wrist. The residual heat fades before he can appreciate it, leaving him cold once again.

“Oh, sorry.”

“My apologies."

Their speech overlaps, then silence fills the room again, and they are left to stare at each other. His hands suddenly feel much too idle at his sides, itching. He throws on a polite smile, a familiar mask, but the expression doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Astarion has never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His hunger is sated, and he should feel satisfied. He should feel like a new man.

So why, then, does he only feel this intolerable weight in his chest?

Why does his stomach turn at the idea of her so carelessly offering herself up to any vampire spawn, let alone himself , despite the obvious danger?

Why is he so deeply frustrated by her lack of self preservation?

Isn’t this exactly what he wanted; to have her crawling back for more?

He can't help but wonder if this sudden apprehension is part of her little plan: to confuse him, drive him to distraction, then bring him to his knees like every other unfortunate man she’s had in her sights before robbing them and tossing them aside.

Out-seducing a vampire would admittedly be an admirable feat, but why? What could her angle be, when Astarion has nothing to offer her?

“Are you alright? You look… lost.”

He blinks back to the present.

“I - ” He coughs, " Ahem . Yes, dear. Of course.”

Hot, crimson streaks drip down the sharp bone of his chin. He springs into action, away from her unfavorable concern, and grabs his nightshirt from off the floor behind him. He has just the one, beautifully embroidered and sewn back together countless times by his own hands, now being used in place of a common napkin.

Evelyn gasps. The sound is like ice, piercing his chest when he realizes his mistake. The devil’s never seen him without a shirt on before now. Meaning, she had never bore witness to the elaborate poem carved into his back - ugly, raised scars painting his flesh and soiling his otherwise perfectly sculpted muscle.

He regrets not humoring her request to redress earlier.

The elf plays off the noise as if he hadn’t heard it, turning to hand her the clothes and hoping she knows better than to mention anything of it. She silently takes the garment from him and places it where he had bitten her. A blooming red stain soaks into the pale fabric. He’ll have to work on getting it out for the next several days, if it decides to come out at all.

Evelyn finally moves to stand, teetering a bit from lightheadedness. Astarion reaches out to steady her, but she shakes her head, declining.

“I’m okay.”

He retracts his hand. The damned thing’s gotten him into enough trouble tonight already.

“Well then, you should get some rest.”

She scoffs, “Wow, not even a thank you?”

He lowers his voice, practically growling at her, “My dear, if you’d allow me to properly thank you, you wouldn’t be leaving this tent. Maybe not for the next week, if I’m feeling generous.”

A pretty little flush once again spreads across her face. He’s rather pleased with himself, thinking he’s finally stunned her.

“And if you weren’t feeling generous?”

Rising to meet him, then. She is playing a very dangerous game.

Astarion closes what little distance there is left between them and grabs her face by the jaw, grip firm . The force has her stumbling, the back of her thighs meeting the hard edge of the table. Wood digs into her skin as the legs grate loudly against his decorative rugs, shifting from the sudden push.

Evelyn’s eyes shut, brows furrowed and panting as she clutches his forearms to steady herself.

To his wicked delight, she does not pull away.

His thumb drags over her bottom lip. The effort she’s expending not to whine at his gentle touch has him reeling. Her skin burns beneath his palms.

“Then, I’d strip you, tie your limbs to this desk,” he murmurs against her lips, before tilting to whisper his confession hot in her ear.

“And you wouldn’t be leaving this tent. Ever . ”

He abruptly releases her, turning away and waving her off.

“Now, go. We have a big day tomorrow.”

Not sparing the woman a glance, he begins gathering his books and setting them back onto the table beside her.

She says nothing in response, but he hears her tear open the entrance to his tent and step out into the night.

#bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 oc #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate oc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion romance #astarion x tav #astarion acunin #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion fanfic #evelyn

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niki-phoria · 2 years ago

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pairing: chishiya x male!reader genre: fluff ?? word count: 3.2k

a/n: i wanna keep writing for chishiya (and aib as a whole) but i have NO ideas so requests are always welcome please

warnings: s2 spoilers (kinda), reader gets shot, canon-typical violence, chishiya is a little ooc, blood, mentions of stitches, bad summaries of the scenes i'm referencing, might edit and repost later idk, cussing

“can you see anything?” arisu’s voice is staticy through the radio. you pull your hood further over your face, hiding your body behind the tree.

“no, nothing yet,” usagi replies. “i’ll try to go over and talk to them like i’m joining the game.”

“wait,” you squint a little, trying to see the people better. “there’s something on their wrists.”

“he’s right,” arisu sighs, leaning a little closer. “they have the same wristbands as those people from tag.”

“shit, they’re leaving.” you rush to follow after them, chasing after their car. you’re sure they can see you but you don’t really care. you’d never catch up anyways.

after a few minutes, they pull off the road and drive into a building. you pant, leaning against a railing. the night air feels good against your skin. on the front of the building you can see one word written in red graffiti- beach.

“l/n,” arisu sighs, jogging over to you. usagi is quick to follow, leaning against the railing with you.

“beach?” she reads.

“it looks like we found it.” the beach’s lights are the only thing you can see for miles, golden hue illuminating the entire building.

“how do they have electricity?” usagi wonders aloud. your response is cut off when you feel a tight grip around your neck, choking you. you cough, trying to fight back, but your vision goes blurry and eventually the world goes black.

you wake up sitting on a wooden chair. you’re surrounded by people staring you down. you anxiously shift, noting the lack of restraints around your wrists or ankles. why didn’t they tie you up? “welcome to the beach!” a man yells. he raises his hands up, twirling around the room. he’s shirtless, just like all of the other men in the room.

the man- hatter- opens the sliding doors, revealing a map of every playing card in a deck. most of them are crossed off with black x’s. “the way to win the games is to get every card,” he says, leaning down next to you. you try not to flinch at the alcohol on his breath. “once we win one of each card, we’ll be able to send one person back to the normal world.

“we have two rules. first, everyone wears swimsuits everywhere. you can’t hide a weapon in a swimsuit,” hatter says, dancing around the room.

“and second?” arisu asks.

“second… the beach kills all traitors. we stand as a united front. if anyone dares to go against that, the beach will show no mercy.” you stiffen at his words. he drops the theatrics for a moment, turning back to face you. “you won a seven of hearts,” he smirks, tapping the card against his hand. “we didn’t have that one. we will consider promoting you. until then, enjoy the beach.”

silently, a woman comes to stand before you. “follow me,” she says. she’s silent as she leads you into a different room, giving you new clothes to change into and the same wristband you saw on people earlier. you put it onto your wrist, tugging at the string so it’s pulled taut. you awkwardly pull your jacket back over your shoulders, shifting uncomfortably in your swim trunks.

the music is loud, shaking the ground as you make your way further into the beach. you can see usagi standing across the room, quickly putting her jacket back on. the crowd goes silent when hatter and the same people from before step out onto a balcony. “the beach stands untied! we will send someone out of here!” he yells. “follow your numbers to your games! let’s go!”

“we’re in different games,” usagi murmurs. arisu leans over to look at yours. you have the same one.

arisu turns back to usagi. “be careful, okay?”

she nods. “you too. both of you.”

you give her one last reassuring nod before following arisu through the crowd to where ann is already waiting for you. “we’re testing both of you,” she says, leading you down a staircase to the game’s entrance. the same white table is sitting in the corridor with four phones. it feels heavier in your hand than the others. “they’re waterproof?” you mumble. you share a puzzled look with arisu before continuing to follow ann into the game.

you stand in an empty dark room with a few inches of water at the bottom. it reaches about halfway up your shins. there are wires hanging from the ceiling. every now and then sparks fly from them. there’s a separate room attached to the main one with a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. a sliding door that reads “open/close” is next to it. on the wall next to you, three switches have been ingrained into the cement, reading “A,” “B,” and “C.”

ann stands across from you in the center of the room, arms crossed over her chest. in the corner, a woman you recognize from the beach, kuina, stands next to the man arisu saved during tag. another woman stands on the opposite side of the room.

you shift uncomfortably in the cold water. “difficulty: four of diamonds,” your phone chimes. “rules: there is one switch that connects to the light bulb. with the door closed, players may flip any switch. when the door is opened, players may only flip one switch once. the door will not close if there are people in both rooms or if a switch is flipped. game clear: if players can answer which switch turns on the light. game over: if water level rises and the surface touches the wires. game start.”

“wires?” kuina asks. the other woman reaches out to touch one, yelping and then falling to the ground. dead. you flinch a little as she falls, turning away from her body and focusing on the switches.

“why don’t we just flip one now? and then if it doesn’t turn on, we have a 50/50 shot,” the man says.

“66%,” ann corrects. you can feel her staring at you as you glance between the light and the switches. “l/n, what should we do?”

“why are you asking him?” the man protests. “it should be a unanimous decision!”

“we’re testing them,” ann answers nonchalantly. your mind races as water continues to fill the room. a million possibilities fill your head. you look over at the light again.

“it’s a regular light bulb?” you ask. kuina leans into the room, looking up at it.

“it looks like it,” she shrugs.

“close the door,” you instruct. the man rushes to help as they slide the door so it’s shut. you bite your lip, pushing the “A” switch so it turns on.

“what now?” the man asks.

“we wait,” arisu says, joining you by the switches. “we let the water fill up a little more and then we test another switch. if it doesn’t turn on, then we check the bulb to see if it’s hot.”

“and if it is, then it’s the first switch,” kuina nods. “makes sense.”

the water filling the room is agonizingly slow and incredibly fast. it feels suffocating as it soaks your shirt, filling up to submerge your chest and shoulders. “open the door!” arisu yells after you turn the switch off. you push down on the “B” switch. the light doesn’t turn on. “kuina, check the bulb!”

she makes her way into the room, reaching up to touch the light. she flinches, pulling her hand away.

“it’s hot!” you wait for her to make her way back into the main room before pushing down on the “C” switch. after a few seconds, the water stops.

“game cleared,” your phone chimes. “congratulations.” you sigh, shoving it back into your pocket. ann smirks, satisfied as you make your way out of the room and back to the beach.

"i'm not sure about this," you whisper to usagi.

"it'll be okay," she replies. "arisu just needs to find the safe."

you swallow your nervousness, retreating back down the hallway to your place to keep watch.

it's silent for a few minutes until two men walk over to you, grabbing your arms. "hey! what are you doing?" you fail to fight against them as they drag you into aguni's room where the cards are kept. arisu is kneeling on the ground next to a locked safe hidden inside of a closet. usagi stands next to you, also held back by two men. chishiya nonchalantly pulls the radio out of his pocket, holding it up. kuina stands next to him with a worried expression. "arisu!" usagi yells.

"and him?" niragi gestures to you.

"l/n wasn't a part of this," chishiya barely glances at you before looking back to arisu. "you can let him go."

you stumble a little when the men push you down. one of them kicks you away, blocking your view of arisu. "leave," he orders. with one last nervous glance towards your friends, you scramble to your feet and rush out of the hotel.

you follow along with the crowd as they gather around in the center of the hotel’s lobby, anxiously awaiting more instructions from the announcer. a table with stacks of phones sits in the center with the same sign that always accompanies them- ‘01 per person.’ you follow along with the group, grabbing one of the phones and registering into the game. you shift onto your toes to see over the people in front of you. a girl lays on the ground with a knife sticking out of her chest.

another girl gasps, running towards her body. “momoka,” she pleads, shaking her. “momoka!”

“momoka has been murdered,” the announcer speaks. “a ‘witch’ stabbed her in the chest with a knife. the witch who took her life is hiding among the members of the beach. witch is only a title, the murderer can be a man or woman. goal: find momoka’s killer and burn their body along with their wretched soul in the fire of judgment. game over: the witch survives for 120 minutes.”

you can hear anxious murmurs from the people among you. you need to get away from them, out of the crowd. you slip away, running through the hallways of the hotel.

gunshots ring out from all around you. you need to find arisu. the walls are covered in blood as you pass them, bodies almost everywhere you look. you bite back the nausea from the sight and smell, trying to find anywhere safe. anywhere to hide.

“l/n!” someone yells. you trip over your own feet, turning to look back. usagi runs over to you, followed by the man from tag and the girl who ran to momoka’s body. you let usagi help you up, ignoring the sting of rug burn on your knees. “are you alright?”

“yeah,” you sigh. “what’s going on?”

“they’re killing everyone to try to find the witch,” the man sighs, taking off his hat and running a hand through his sweaty hair.

“where’s arisu? we need to find him.”

“i don’t know,” usagi sighs. “we need to keep moving,” she grabs onto your arm, leading you away from the approaching gunshots. you desperately pull on different doors, hoping to find one that leads back to arisu.

“this is it?” usagi asks, looking back down at asahi's phone.

“it looks like it,” arisu sighs, putting it back into his pocket. “here,” he tosses you a flashlight before you make your way through the station.

you pull your jacket further around your body, as you search. it fills you with an odd sense of nostalgia to walk through an area that should be so familiar. you pause when you find an opened door. the same door that asahi and momoka had shown in the video. hesitantly, you walk forwards and pull the door open. arisu and usagi follow behind you. inside, people in business suits lay sprawled across different tables and in chairs. the blood looks fresh, like they haven’t been dead for very long.

“i’m surprised it took you so long to find this,” chishiya says, stepping into the light. "it's good to see you, l/n."

"how long have you known about this?" arisu asks.

chishiya holds up a piece of paper- a circle with seemingly random lines going through it. "it took some time, but i finally figured out that this is a map to the shibuya station." as soon as he finishes speaking, the monitors light up all around you. they shine a blinding white before mira's face appears.

"congratulations, you have beaten all of the numbered card games. now, you will move onto the face cards," she says. chishiya and kuina walk over to stand next to you. when you glance at chishiya, he simply shrugs. "we look forward to seeing you soon!"

"there are more games?" kuina asks.

"she said we were moving onto the face cards. maybe if we win every game corresponding to each card in a deck we'll be able to return back to our world," arisu says.

"hopefully," usagi nods. you follow behind chishiya out of the station, sitting beside kuina on the ground.

"i wonder when the games will start," you say. "they usually take place at night."

"they've always given us some sort of instructions. i'm sure we'll hear something soon," usagi reassures. you hum, stretching.

the silence is interrupted when a group of cars pull up. you scramble to your feet with kuina, watching as people from the beach begin to step out.

"what's going on?" a woman yells. you aren't given time to respond before something hits her. you stand in shock, staring at the now dead body falling to the ground. another shot rings out, sending another person down- a woman this time. you’ve just barely caught your breath when someone yells out “run!”

you’re quick to follow, turning on your heel and beginning to leave. gunshots continue to ring out behind you, almost drowned out by the screams of their victims. you follow usagi behind the wall of a building, hesitantly peeking over the edge. in the sky, an airship flies though, carrying a giant king of spades flag. in the distance you can see even more of them, carrying the other face cards.

“shit,” you whisper.

“we need to move!” arisu yells. more bodies fall to the ground as you run, desperately trying to keep pace with the others.

“let’s split up!” chishiya shouts, ducking behind a car. you hide behind the wall of a building, hiding in the shadows as you watch more people run by. you can see arisu nod a little, rushing to a wounded man on the ground.

you yelp as you suddenly feel a sharp pain in your leg, harshly hitting the asphalt ground. scrambling to your feet, you push yourself behind a wall, hiding away in the shadows. your leg burns when you try to put pressure on it, pain stinging throughout your body. hesitantly, you reach a hand down to touch it. blood gushes from the wound, dripping down your leg.

with a hiss, you push yourself off the wall, following after the hoards of people running from the gunshots. you make it a little farther down the street when someone grabs your wrist, pulling you down and pushing you against a car. “dumbass,” chishiya curses. “you got yourself shot.”

you hope your adrenaline is covering how flustered you are, biting back a bitter laugh. “sorry. i didn’t really expect to almost die today.”

“come on,” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist. “can you walk?” you hiss when you put your foot on the ground but nod.

“it hurts, but i can move.” chishiya sighs, shifting your body weight onto him. you can hear a car approaching before suddenly screeching to a stop. you look out from the side, seeing tatta and ann.

“get in!” she yells. chishiya helps you to your feet as arisu, usagi, and kuina pile into the backseat of the car. you limp a little closer before something hits the ground, rolling out from underneath the car. chishiya starts pulling you back, grip tightening around your waist.

“go!” he yells, pushing you back behind the car for shelter. usagi slams the car door shut as tatta begins driving.

“you should run,” you say, moving so you’re not leaning on chishiya. “i can handle myself.”

he doesn’t move, shaking his head. “no. i’m not leaving you now.” you sigh, letting him wrap his arm back around your waist and helping you run behind a building. “i need to find something to stop the bleeding.”

“chishiya!” you hiss, pulling your jacket off, pressing it against your leg. the sound of gunshots gradually fades until you’re left in complete silence.

with the king of spades gone, you start to feel the adrenaline wearing off. your hands shake as you press down even harder on your leg. you aren’t sure how long you’ve been sitting there when chishiya returns, replacing your hands with his. your chest heaves as you watch him check the wound over. “it’s pretty bad. you’re gonna need stitches.”

“just make it quick.”

he nods, slowly beginning to treat the wound. you bite back a scream before the pain becomes unbearable and the world goes black.

the ground is hard underneath you when you wake up. your leg aches as you shift, forcing yourself to sit up. “welcome back,” chishiya says.

you groan, leaning back against the wall. it's dark outside now. a fire burns in front of you. you shift to move closer to it, desperate for the warmth. “how long was i out for?”

“not long. you passed out from the adrenaline and shock.”

you hum. it's silent for a few minutes. the only noise is the cracking of the flames. you move back to lean against the wall, sitting next to chishiya. you're so close that your hands are just barely touching. “why did you save me?”

he looks over at you. "because i don't want you dead."

"are you saying you care about me?" you tease.

chishiya turns his attention back to the fire. "i do." you freeze for a second, surprised by his answer. he glances back up at you. "did you think i didn't?"

"honestly? i didn't think you would go out of your way to save me." you pull your good leg up to rest your chin against your knee. "so why did you?"

"because i have feelings for you." chishiya is uncharacteristically quiet when he says it, still staring straight ahead at the flames.

"i have feelings for you too," you whisper. he looks over at you, almost surprised. chishiya reaches over to grab your hand, intertwining your fingers together. you move even closer, laying your head against his shoulder. "will you be mine?"

chishiya smiles a little, pressing down to press a kiss against your forehead. "i already am."

154 notes · View notes

narcolini · 1 year ago

Text

night//morning

marcus x luca, long distance pining perhaps?, 2k words tw for talking about death, specifically parents a/n: this contains s2 spoilers!!! dont say i didnt warn you!! also im taking an absolute leap of faith with what those missed calls mean so call it divergence from canon, or assumption of canon, or . yknow. enjoying free real estate idk (same with luca backstory hehe) tagging @drabbles-mc because it exists for her <3

Luca’s phone rings, just minutes before his usual alarm gets chance to—sending that weird fucking tune that Instagram uses, pin-balling from his nightstand, straight into his skull—screen lit and blinding. He should keep it on do not disturb, yeah, he knows that, but as disruptive as it is, this is exactly the reason he doesn’t. It’s meant to wake him up, because there aren’t many people that would message him this early in the morning, and there’s only one that’d ring him over Instagram, of all places. Free of charge and desperately reliant on the good of their internet connections.

‘Yo.’ He clears his throat after picking up, rubbing a hand across his sleep-filled eyes. He’s on his back still, phone to his ear, smirk toying the edges of his mouth once they’ve woken up enough. ‘I’m guessing you got the parcel, then?’

The line is silent in response, and stays so for long enough that he pulls the phone away to check the call’s still connected. His eyes are bleary from the brightness of it, but it is, connected and split screened, both profile pictures staring back at him. Clock counting.

‘Marcus?’ he asks, speaking back into the phone. ‘Think we’ve got a bad connection, mate.’

More quiet. The hum of what sounds like an industrial extractor fan, if he really tries to listen for it.

‘Can you hear me?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ Marcus says eventually, staccato through the phone, ‘yeah, I, um.’

So it’s not the wifi. And there’s an edge to his voice that strips all remaining sleep from Luca's, and pulls him upright until he’s sitting, pillows rolling under his back. ‘You alright?’

‘Sorry.’

‘For what?’

Marcus sighs. The connection warps it into something robotic. ‘Calling you.’

‘Well, I assume there’s a reason for it.’ He wouldn’t ring for nothing, and he wouldn’t struggle if there wasn’t something forcing him to. ‘What’s up?’

Silence again, then the gulls, waking outside Luca’s window. Loud and begging before the sun’s even finished rising. Marcus isn’t doing anything to try and compete with them, though they must be audible to him too, so for a moment it feels like they’re a part of the conversation. Getting their turn while the both of them wait.

He shouldn’t yawn, he shouldn’t, even with the pause, and he’s really trying not to. Swallowing nothing. Clenching his jaw, relaxing it again. Fighting it back with every trick he knows.

It happens anyway. Loud and stretching down the line.

‘You want to talk about something else,’ he asks afterwards, since his eyes are starting to droop, ‘until you can talk about whatever it is that’s happened?’

Marcus coughs, dry and purposeless. Forced maybe. ‘I don’t know. I guess.’

That’s good enough. ‘Alright. Where are you?’

It’s a start. Where are you, Marcus, when you should be at home making something to eat, or at work, scrubbing dried dough from the counters.

‘Out the back,’ he replies, sounding tired with it. Defeated, even.

‘The back of the restaurant?’

‘Yeah. Sitting on a,’ he laughs weakly, ‘a fucking, upturned bucket.’

‘Right. A bucket. That’s the luxury we aim for, isn’t it? As chefs.’

‘Yeah, something like that.’

Upturned buckets and 4AM alarms—which he’s just shut off, now that it’s finally buzzed into life against his ear.

‘Tough night?’ he asks, sitting up from the pillows. He doesn’t have to go right away, but he has to at least start the process, one step at a time.

The phone cracks as Marcus coughs again. It’s definitely forced, aimed to dislodge whatever��s catching his words before they make it to Luca's ear. ‘Nah, um, good night actually,’ he says. ‘First run with the new, well, new everything. Friends and family.’

‘Really?’ Luca smiles. It carries into his voice. ‘Wow, congrats, man.’

‘I mean, it was all Syd and.’

He never finishes the sentence.

Luca checks the phone again, not to see the connection, but for the time instead. To know how quick he’s going to have to move, if he lets himself be lazy for a little longer.

‘You get that, what was it…?’ He sighs down the line once it’s back to his cheek, rubbing at his sleep-swollen face. ‘Sorry, that bavarois you made, you get it onto the menu?’

Marcus smiles, or at least he hopes he does. It sounds like it when he replies. ‘Yeah, you know, big hit. Fire, in Carmy’s words.’

‘Oh, that’s when you know it’s good,’ he agrees, finally standing from the bed. ‘Proud of you, mate.’

‘Thank-you.’

Another silence to fill, and now it’s getting hard to. Because it’s early, and he’s trying to get dressed, tugging one leg, then the other, into his trousers, with the phone pinned to his shoulder, and he’s asked all he can think to ask, without espresso fuelling his system.

‘You, um, you get my gift?’ he tries, hopping as he pulls them up to his hips.

But it was badly timed, in the end, because Marcus chose exactly then to say, ‘My mom,’ at the same time. ‘It’s my mom.’

‘Oh, shit.’ Luca stills. Lifts the phone from his shoulder. ‘Is she—did she—I’m sorry. Fuck.’

‘I missed the calls,’ he says, ‘all, fucking, twenty of them. While we were in the shit.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’ He doesn’t know what to do either, standing half-dressed in his half-lit bedroom, half-way across the world. ‘What happened?’

‘I mean,’ he can picture Marcus shrugging, ‘exactly what we knew would happen. Just, y’know.’

Yeah, he knows.

‘I was expecting it,’ he says. ‘I mean, it had to happen one day.’

Luca sighs. ‘I’m so, so, sorry, Marcus.’

‘Nah, it’s. I mean. Yeah. Life sucks, huh? Really fucking sucks.’ He laughs and it sounds weaker than before. ‘I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now.’

Yeah, he knows that too.

‘I wish I could be there,’ Luca admits. It’s a weak offer of support. Not comforting, not helpful. True, though, and that’s all he can give him. ‘Can I do anything?’ he asks, picking at the wooden edge of his drawers. ‘Anything you need, just let me know and I’ll, yeah, I’ll make it happen.’

‘Nah,’ he sighs, ‘sorry, I don’t know why I called you, really. I mean, we’re not even in the same country.’

'It's alright.'

'Opened my phone and it kind of just... happened.'

Because he knew Luca would pick up. ‘Well, I’m awake,’ he reasons, ‘and here, if you need to talk.’

‘Yeah, thank-you. I know.’

‘Not much to say though, is there?’

There’s a silence that Luca can only assume is signalling a head shake, over there in Chicago, in the alley, on top of the bucket.

‘It’s not the same,’ he continues, running with it now, ‘well, I guess it is—sort of—but, when my dad died, I sat in my room for weeks. Didn’t say anything to anybody. Couldn’t if I tried.’

‘Your dad?’

He doesn’t pause to answer. He’s already losing the momentum he started with, gone the second he invited Dad back into his head. The only thing to do, is try and continue like they’ve spoken about it a million times before, like Marcus knows the whole fucked up backstory.

‘Went to the funeral, all that stuff, the wake, still said nothing. Just, really, shut down, you know? Shut it out. And my sister, she, well she hated that, but—I mean, and then I went to Chicago and—’

‘Luca, I…’ He’s trying to be polite about it, interrupting in a sheepish way, but what he really wants to say is, shut up, man, it’s not the time for this. It’s evident enough in his tone. His pauses. ‘I’m really trying to keep up, but—’

‘My point is,’ Luca says, quickly followed by, ‘actually, I don’t know what my point is. But this is the worst, worst thing you can go through, alright, I know that first hand. It’s the worst. And I’m here, even if you want to just sit on the phone for company, or something.’

A beat. The tinny sound of a siren passing Marcus on the other side of the world.

‘I’m very good at chatting copious amounts of shit, obviously.’ Luca laughs. ‘So, you know. Whatever you need.’

‘I think I need to quit my job,’ he says, and for a second it feels like someone else has taken the phone, because it doesn’t sound like Marcus at all.

‘Come on, you don’t mean that.’

‘No, I do. I missed every call, Luca. Every call, for fucking what? For the Michael? Do you realise how dumb that is?’

Luca twitches, flexing his shoulders back to correct the posture that had never really sunk in the first place. A nervous thing. Something he picked up in culinary school. ‘It only feels like that now,’ he says.

Marcus scoffs.

‘Sleep on it.’

‘Don’t think that’s happening anytime soon.’

‘Yeah, cause you’ve gotta get off that bucket first.’ It’s like taking another exam, he realises, trying to balance hazelnut swirls onto set custard while your hands are shaking. The balance is everything, get it wrong and he’ll chase Marcus away, just like he did with Frankie. Jokey, but understanding. Patient, but moving him still. ‘Go home, Marcus, see how you feel about it in the morning.’

‘I can’t,' he stresses.

And, shit, he forgot that detail. Somehow, in a conversation all about it. ‘Your mum.’ He sighs. ‘Sorry, I should’ve.’ Forget it. Recover, adapt, fix it from another angle. ‘Is Syd still around?’

‘Think so.’

‘Have you told her?’

He lets that question sit for a while, lets the street noise creep back through the phone in place of his answer. Which Instagram lovingly turns into static, really, radio noise that makes Luca wince.

Then Marcus says, blank and tired, with a thick voice that needs to be cleared, ‘I think I’m gonna go actually. I should go.’

‘Oh.’ It takes a moment for him to recover. ‘Yeah, course, do what you need to do.’

‘Thank-you, you know, for picking up.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘And the gift. It means a lot.’

‘Sure, yeah. I’m glad you like it.’

‘Night, man.’

It’s four in the morning, but he says it back, slipping it in right before the call ends. With that bitter little tone in his ear. If that was an exam, he'd've failed. Maybe. Dropped the details and put his thumb through the layers.

‘Idiot,’ he mutters, tossing the phone onto the end of his bed. ‘When my dad died. Fuck me.’

Marcus will never call again. He’ll never call him again, actually, not until the funeral’s done and he’s starting to heal from it. Why would he? Who wants to hear that? This is the worst, mate, good luck!

Christ.

He should’ve said nothing, should’ve waited for Marcus to take the lead and gone from there. Not everyone wants what Frankie wanted. Talking for the sake of talking.

But he’s running late now, and the t-shirt he’s dragged from the drawers is still sitting around his biceps, waiting to be pulled on. Work first. Work first, then fix it with Marcus. Send another gift, or something, book a plane if you have to.

He puts his head through the hole and reaches for a pair of socks as the t-shirt rolls down his stomach. Then it’s cologne. Hairbrush. The watch he wears, just to take off and store in his locker once he gets there. Everything he needs from this room, before moving on to the next. Besides his phone, of course, which is waiting on the bed still.

When he reaches it, the screen’s lit already, awake with messages he hadn’t noticed.

Going home, it reads. Thanks for talking me through it.

It’s in his hand now, staring us from his palm, and telling him that Marcus is still typing.

And typing.

Then, finally,

Sorry about your dad.

His chest deflates, held breath escaping at last. Long time ago, he types back. Shout me if you need anything.

There’s no hesitation this time. Just, Cool. Keep the couch free for me, yeah?

Yeah, sure. All yours.

>>>part two

#marcus x luca #the bear fanfiction

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olderthannetfic · 1 year ago

Note

I think the idea that MCD shouldn’t be a major archive warning alongside rape, GDOV and underage is a misunderstanding of what those archive warnings are for, and that they weren’t originally intended as “trigger warnings” in the way we think of them now, where it’s about shielding people with trauma around those topics. Trigger warnings got their start online on feminist blogs in the mid-late 2000s, which was before online social justice and fandom had much in the way of overlap, so correct me if I’m wrong but when AO3 was created, trigger warnings weren’t really a thing that was on most of fandom’s radar. Anyway, what the archive warnings have in common is they are all things that make fic “dark” or, for some people, “kind of a bummer,” and that the sort of “default” shipper who prefers things on the up and up (which varies across fandoms but I feel like in most, those people predominate and people who prefer darkfic/whump tend to be in the minority, at least that’s been my experience across several fandoms) sees as ruining the romantic fantasy they’re looking for in fic. I count myself in that category; I am not triggered by any of the archive warnings and in fact I’ve read plenty of original fiction that deals with each of them extensively, but I tend to go to fanfiction for warm fuzzy romance so both RNC and MCD are no-goes for me for whatever is my current big OTP: I want them to like and respect each other and not hurt each other (and also, not be rapists), and I want them to have a happy ending. And conversely, if you ARE into darkfic (which I am occasionally for some other fandoms, just usually not whatever is my current Big Ship), then you will want to know if some particular dark feature you might be looking for is in there. I hope I’m making sense here, I just get the sense that those big four are things that fandom tends to be sharply divided on in terms of whether they want it with a particular pairing or story or not, and so it makes sense for the four to be listed. But yeah, the idea that it’s somehow portraying character death as “triggering” to put that in that category, or that you’re so put-out by putting CNTW on your fic with a death you don’t want to spoil (which, well, as a person who actively looks up spoilers for original media and has read some great fics that gave away a death that still managed to be full of twists and turns and surprises, I’ll leave my thoughts out about that and “spoiler culture” more generally, but it is ultimately up to the author)…. I think that’s really missing that those were not originally intended to be a list of “triggering” things. Also, some other triggering stuff isn’t in there, because it’s not a common thing that fic readers tend either really want or really NOT want. (Like incest, which also is usually pretty obvious from the ship in question, or if they’re making two people related who weren’t in canon, from additional tags.) Anyway, the “but if I put CNTW on my fic they won’t know which one” whine is a problem with all four of the archive warnings. Maybe you CNTW for noncon but you don’t want people to think the character doesn’t survive. Maybe you CNTW for underage but are worried that people might think it’s nonconsensual. Idk, I think there are ways around that regardless via the author description. Also, sorry, but as someone who doesn’t like character death…. I like the idea that people who want to be coy about if it’s happening or not are forced to put a tag that raises that possibility! So i can just avoid it! If it wasn’t a major archive warning, a lot of those “don’t want to spoil” people would just not tag it at all, bumming their readers out if they feel like they weren’t anticipating it ahead of time. That’s a legitimate preference for readers to have!

We weren't consciously thinking of it in terms of "dark" fic.

Frankly, ye olde slash fandom was full of extreme hurt/comfort scenarios that nobody batted an eyelash at as long as the ending of the fic was happy.

These were simply a shortlist of things that are easy to enforce and that at least some archives and other fic spaces had had as important warnings in the past. MCD was like 100000000x more common than the others.

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moefling · 1 year ago

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ok i’m gonna talk about the RWRB Movie...

SPOILER: i’m gonna be negative and i’m not planning on watching the movie (i guess that means ppl are gonna block me??? idk why ppl are just mass blocking because of this but whatever) (edit: per a suggestion I swapped the tag on this post so it isn't tagged under "rwrb movie")

so i’m gonna start by saying that i’ve watched the trailer a few times and honestly i love the vibes, it makes me smile ever time.

-the kiss is great

-the butt slap is everything

-Henry’s facial expressions *chefs kiss*

-the visible chain around Alex neck. yes

i’m also gonna say that its great that people ARE going to see the movie, we need more queer movies and the only way for that to happen is if ppl watch the ones that are being made now.

so the bad.

honestly i could deal with a lot of the little things. like they make my eye twitch a little but i do actually understand that you can’t 100% remake a book into a movie.

BUT

it’s June that i can’t forgive.

if i’m wrong and she is in the movie than amazing and i redact everything but it doesn’t seem to be that way.

removing June makes me SO angry. its like removing Alice from Twilight or Sam from Lord of the Rings. if Main Characters are just the romantic leads (Alex and Henry) than June defiantly falls into secondary tier - all the Super Six kinda do (Bea would be the most removable for me but is is also necessary for Henry’s development as much as June is for Alex.

June balances Alex out. the book even specifically states WHY all of the White House Trio are needed (page 28: “Alex pushes them. June steadies them. Nora keeps them honest.”) She keeps him sane and she put her life on hold to watch out for Alex, and Alex knows this!

the idea of Alex being an only child is terrifying. he is already kinda selfish (i say that lovingly) and “a little shit” without growing up with an older sibling to shut him up he would be a monster (and Nora doesn’t count because first they don’t actually meet until Ellen is running with Mike as VP and second Nora’s personality is to “go with the flow” to really steady Alex)

June also has some important moments that happen in the book! like it doesn’t really work to have Nora be fake dating Henry for the like 2 days that that happens and no June means no Magazine moment (i know that isn’t really directly in the book but its a fav for everyone). no June also really changes the tone of the Lake House....

ANWAY, moving away from June here is some other things that i don’t like (because its my rant and i want to, feel free to change my mind)

- the height difference (i did love the lifts comment in the trailer but idk if they’ll be able to keep that up in a way that makes since - that means that if they are every barefoot Alex would have to be shorter *cough* like swimming)

-the actor for Alex is to old. i know ppl are really split about this but the actor feels put together and like an adult to me (vs. book Alex feels very young - or he honestly acts his age of 21/22). i think the polo match scene says a lot for me in the postures of the 2 actors, Henry is ok (tho honestly i think he wouldn’t have the loose posture once he rejoined ppl but its cute so pass) but Alex is to stiff, he should be almost bouncing as he walks.

-WFT is Ellen’s accent in the trailer???

-i heard a rumor that Raf and Liam are merged and redone. Gross and big no.

-King instead of Queen. i understand why this was done but the tone changes a lot in my head of abusive Grandpa vs. Grandma

-Zahra. don’t like, the vibe is off with the actress... can’t explain why except the smile in the photos and the bow in the trailer

-i feel like some of the scenes feel still (this is 100% my opinion and i could be reading this VERY wrong so ignore this if you interpret it differently)

i really wanted to like the movie but realistically i probably wouldn’t watch the movie anyway because i have issues with that so..... i guess it doesn’t matter.

i hope ppl who watch it enjoy it and please separate tags of movie vs book, thanks

#rwrb #RED WHITE AND ROYAL BLUE #rwrb book #red white and royal blue book #rant #rwrb movie negativity #first prince #books to movies #red white and royal blue

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normally-o-a-k · 2 years ago

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Hey look a fanfiction

Scam/Jodie

Friends to lovers, multi chapter, no beta we die like Glenn, idk what to tag this I’ve never written fic before lmao, spoilers kinda? I’m gonna genuinely miss writing this.

Rating: Teen

Chap 8/8 (this is it folks)

Previous chapter:

After the first month of earnest whispered ‘I love you’s from Scam, it became an obvious game.

Another month full of portals opening at various points in the week. Scam leaning casually over the edge of them to smile and wink and tell him he loves him, all perfectly timed to continually burn up whatever Jodie had been holding at the moment.

Jodie hadn’t been counting everything he’d lost to this game, but he was relieved that the times it had be reports, he’d always been heading to the shredder anyway. In its own way Scam’s game had been working, the intensity of the flames had lessened recently but it was still a fairly large inconvenience.

So when Scam opens a portal next to him while he’s brushing his teeth, leaning on it like it’s a windowsill, he’s no longer surprised.

“Hello again handsome~! Did you miss me? You know I’ve missed you ~<3” Scam rests his hand on his cheek. “We fought some guys yesterday and one of them had a ruby that was the same color as your eyes, and I couldn’t help but think of you~”

Jodie smiles, rinsing his mouth and putting the toothbrush which he was sure Scam was hoping to watch him melt, down on the sink. “Of course I missed you…”

“How much~?” Scam smiles “I need to know~ it’s very much a competition”

He laughs softly “hm, enough to want to pull you through that portal and smother you with kisses”

“What a delicious way to die! I think I’m ready! I’m a willing sacrifice if that’s my method of expiry~!” Scam laughs, rolling over so he can play dead, dramatically hanging half out of the portal. He opens one eye to see if Jodie has picked up his toothbrush again.

Jodie laughs and picks it up. “Go ahead”

“Oooh? You’re giving me permission~?” He turns back over and grins

“Does that take the fun out of it?” He laughs “Sorry, I’m just glad I get to see you so often…and I like hearing you say it…”

“I love you~”

Jodie blushes but notably does not catch on fire, which surprises even him.

“Finally~!” Scam grins and climbs out of the inky black void of the portal to pull him into a kiss. Jodie leans in, tossing his toothbrush back behind him towards the sink so both his his hands are free to try and pull Scam closer, stumbling forward until Scam’s back hits the wall.

Scam breaks the kiss grin stretching ear to ear. He peppers his face with kisses, punctuating each one with an ‘I love you’, thrilled that he could without getting burned.

Jodie smiles and pulls him closer, resting his head against Scams chest, confident in how he’d been feeling he decides it’s time to finally say it… “Scam… I love you too”

Scam freezes, all three eyes widening, his tail flicking back and forth. “Jodie~” his face completely magenta from how hard he was blushing. “How off the table is spending the night?~”

“I’m still not ready for anything like-“

“Just sleeping~ I mean the just sleeping sort of spending the night~” he could wait as long as Jodie needed for anything else.

“That sounds nice…” he nods and pulls back from the embrace to lead him out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

“You’ve never let me in your bedroom before~” Scam grins “Maybe I’ll ask to stay every night~”

“You’re saying that like I would tell you no…” he climbs into bed already in a tshirt and flannel pj pants. He was starting to feel a little nervous.

“I suppose I need to actually wear Pajamas from now on then~” With a snap of his fingers he was dressed in a silk pajama set. He lifts the blanket and climbs under the covers, His four arms wrap around Jodie’s waist, pulling him close.

Scam was in no way ready for how intensely the bed would smell like Jodie, now completely surrounded by the smell of cinnamon and leather. He hadn’t prepared himself for how warm it would be with Jodie nestled against his neck, His fingers tracing circles on Scam’s back as he starts to relax. It was comforting and he knew he wasn’t going to want to leave in the morning.

“Glenn and Nicky are coming home tomorrow… They’ll be here for breakfast” Jodie yawns.

“Oh.” He’d have to be gone then, fairly early too since Jodie was a morning person…He gently runs his fingers through Jodie’s hair. “Don’t worry~ I’ll leave before they get here~ Nicky won’t-“

“Scam I want you to join us… I think It’s probably time to tell Nicky that we’re seeing eachother”

“You’re sure?~”

“Yes…he’s probably got a pretty good idea something’s up anyway. “ he smiles and leans up to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight Scam… I love you”

“I love you too~”

———

Of all the people to show up for the Close-Foster family meals, Nicky had not expected Scam. He eyes him suspiciously through the doorway but doesn’t yet say anything about it. “Is mom coming?”

“Not today, she’ll be here tomorrow though, she misses you too” Jodie pulls him in for a hug. Morgan wasn’t an uncommon guest in hell, they’d remained friends after the separation and if Jodie was right there was interest growing between her and Glenn so she was going to be in his life for the long haul.

Glenn raises an eyebrow when he sees Scam standing as awkwardly as he feels by the breakfast table in the next room. He walks over and pats him hard on the back “I was wondering where you got off to last night”

“Don’t expect me to sleep at camp ever again~ Jodie is just so deliciously comfortable, I’m intent on breaking him out of his habit of being an early riser~” he smirks.

“…gross. Look, if you two are getting more serious about each other that’s great, but I know you like to say stuff that’s not exactly kid friendly…just remember Jodie is Nicky’s dad so when you say weird shit it’s going to effect him”

“oh no worries Glenn~ I wouldn’t dream of upsetting my future step son~”

“Oh I really really don’t like that. Scam, listen, Nicky’s approval is a big deal, don’t fuck this up.” He pats him on the back again “if you do, you can just toss any future you’ve got in you head out the window. The kid matters more than you, comprende?”

He actually hadn’t considered how important this breakfast could be before right now. “Even if he loves me~?”

“It won’t matter if Nicky wants you gone”

He stands up a bit straighter. “Well I certainly don’t want that~ I suppose I should actually say hello now~” he steps away from where Glenn cornered him, walking as casually as he can up to Jodie and Nicky. “Good morning Nicky~ I hope you slept well? Yesterday sure was fun wasn’t it~?”

Nicky makes a face “we had to kill like three guys yesterday… so I mean … yeah I guess?” He looks to Jodie “Dad… why is he here?”

Jodie pats Nicky’s shoulder “let’s all go eat and we can talk about it?”

Nicky, having not gotten the answer he wanted, looks at Glenn. He finger tuts ‘what’s going on?’

Jodie catches the movement out of the corner of his eye and glares at Glenn mouthing ‘don’t you dare’

Glenn looks between the two “He’ll tell you, just wait…”

Nicky grumbles but heads to the table regardless, sitting in his usual spot.

Jodie relaxes, waiting for everyone to sit down infront of their pancakes. “So, how was your week?”

Glenn just shrugs and starts digging in “still net zero info.”

Nicky doesn’t touch his pancakes yet. “My week was fine.” It was a terse response. He didn’t like that Jodie was hiding something from him.

Scam was nervous now, how do you impress children? Surely if he hadn’t made a positive impression with all his jokes and japes over the last year or so, there wasn’t going to be much more he could do? He absolutely has to get Nicky’s approval…Sweets maybe? He reaches over, hand outstretched, various types of unwrapped candy oozing from his palm and dropping onto Nicky’s pancakes.

Nicky tries not to gag and pushes his plate away, looking at Jodie with urgency. “DAD.”

Glenn cracks up “holy shit”

Scam hesitates and then slides his uneaten plate of pancakes towards Nicky. “Apologies~ I just thought you’d like sweets~ don’t all children wish they could have candy for breakfast?”

Jodie just buries his face in his hands “Scam what are you doing?”

“Was that the wrong move?~” Scam takes the plate covered in candy and unhinges his jaw, pouring the contents of the dish into his mouth. “There, it’s gone~!”

Nicky frowns. “Dad. Why is Scam here?”

Jodie sighs “yeah okay…I was kind of hoping this would go a bit smoother…”

Scam fidgets with a fork, he’d fucked up. It’d been only a few minutes into the breakfast and he’d blown it.

“You know how your Mom and I haven’t been together for a while? Well… Scam and I really like each other and-“

“What?!” Nicky wasn’t sure what exactly he was feeling besides pure unadulterated shock.

“We love each other” Jodie looks as nervous as Scam is. “So he’s going to be around a lot…”

He wanted his dad to be happy but… this was the weirdest possible choice. “Am…I going to have to call him ‘dad’?”

“No, of course not…” Jodie relaxes and reaches out for Scam’s hand, still looking at Nicky “Are you… okay with it?”

“I mean he’s really weird Dad…but yeah…just… how long have you guys… been dating?”

Scam grins “The week after next is our three month anniversary~! I’ve never been so excited about the passing of time~<3”

Jodie blushes “you’ve been keeping track?”

“Of course I have~ Every minute I get to spend as your lover means so much to me~ ” he leans on the table, resting his chin on his hands, his grin widening, absolutely smitten with Jodie.

“Oh god, please don’t call my dad your ‘lover’… just say boyfriend….” The reality of it was starting to hit Nicky. Scam was part of his dads life, potentially forever judging by how sweetly they were staring at each other.

Glenn pats Nicky on the back “they’re kinda grossly sweet together huh? You should be happy for your dad”

“Yeah I am…but…. If Scam hurts him I’ll kill him myself”

Glenn laughs “you’re a good kid.”

Jodie smiles and holds Scams hand across the table. Nicky being on board meant they were free to be open about how they felt for each other now.

Scam was relieved, He’d been accepted, albeit begrudgingly, but still accepted none the less. This meant he was part of the family now didn’t it? How wonderful! His grin widens and with a lilt of curiosity asks “How long until we consider Marriage?~”

Jodie instantly ignites.

#this was fun! im glad I did this!#thanks for reading <3 #dndads #dungeons and daddies #dnd dads #dndads s2 #dndads spoilers #dnddads #scam actually #scam likely #dndads season 2 #dndads fanfic #dungeons and daddies fan fiction #jodie x scam #scam x jodie #scamster #scodie #jodie/scam #scam/jodie

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