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astarionbraiinrot · 24 days

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One for the Road

Having acquired himself a brood of many daughters, and with enough years passed since the last was born that he's certain they're done having any more, Astarion is content to be a very happy certified Girl Dad™ to his flock of lovely little feral princesses. Which he's over the moon about, because honestly, what would he even do with a boy? No, he’s quite satisfied with the pack of little gremlins he has, thanks very much, all braids and pink ribbons and lace trim, and he’s not interested in adding to it. He and Tav are living their best No More Babies life. They're consistently sleeping through the night without interruption, they can have a glass (or four) of wine whenever they want, and he can’t remember the last time he’s had to wipe an ass that wasn’t his own. No, their house is FULL and they are DONE. No new Ancunins, shop's closed.

She’s bright red herself, wailing with all the power her little lungs can muster. He still can’t see much of her from where he sits, not with Tav sagged back against him, finally able to rest. The Midwife says something he doesn’t catch as she gently wipes the babe off. He’s too busy whispering to Tav about how well she did to pay much attention to anything else right at this moment, but Tav isn’t, and she starts to giggle, quietly, just this side of audible. Odd, he thinks, but adrenaline’s a hell of a drug, so he doesn’t think about it too hard. His towel-wrapped (and still a little fluid-covered) daughter is gently placed on Tav’s chest as the Midwife busies herself with cutting the umbilical cord and delivering the afterbirth. The baby calms a bit as Tav gently coos to her and strokes her back, her cries tapering off into soft whimpers.

So of course, barely three days after finally clearing out and donating all of their various and sundry baby stuff, Tav informs him that there's going to be a last-minute addition to the family, very soon (school had just started back again, and the girls had spent the entire summer banding together to hide increasingly-inappropriate new "pets" in their rooms no matter how many times they got caught, so he supposes Tav can be forgiven for having mistaken the symptoms of yet another impending-dhampir as typical parenting exhaustion. He certainly had). It's the middle of the night when she tells him, and he spends at least an hour pacing the floor of their bedroom and summoning every scrap of memory from his law school days to argue that she must be mistaken, because their eldest just started COLLEGE and their youngest is TEN and they've already given away the crib and you can't have a baby if you don't have a crib because where would it even sleep? So obviously they can't be having another baby. Checkmate. He rests his case, Your Honor.

When his arguments to the contrary do not, in fact, render the impending child any less impending, and he’s had another hour to stomp around the backyard lecturing himself (quietly, so as not to wake the girls or the neighbors) that this is what happens when you drink two bottles of wine and an entire cow and can’t keep your stupid hands to yourself and convince Tav to throw caution to the wind because “it’ll be fine just this once, what’s the worst that could happen,” you idiot, he comes around to the idea. Because, sure, maybe they're starting all over with the diapers and the teething and the sleepless nights, but their other children are old enough to mostly mind themselves now, and the youngest had started asking for a baby sister as soon as she was old enough to figure out that her parents were where siblings came from.

Plus, if he's honest with himself, he may have - just a very teeny tiny bit - missed the feeling of holding a tiny infant curled up on his chest, burying his nose into their fluffy newborn hair to inhale the scent of their little scalp, listening to those soft snuffly noises they make as they fall asleep, his finger held in a ridiculously tiny hand only just barely big enough to wrap around it. Not enough to have another one on purpose, obviously, but if she's coming along anyway, then he supposes he might as well enjoy it all the same.

So he starts the same preparations for her that he did with all her sisters, sewing tiny frilly things as Tav knits yet another blanket and they bounce potential names off each other. Of course it's a girl, he says, when questioned on his name suggestions. With how many children they already have, there would have been a boy by now if there was going to be one. He scoffs each time Tav jokes over the next few tendays that this one feels different, and they could have a little combo-breaker on the horizon. No, not possible, he assures her, with an unearned confidence that he nonetheless felt was quite deserved. Their Standard Operation Protocol is that, once a baby is on the way, a little girl is born soon after. No deviations, and no reason to expect any now after all this time. Repeated experiments have produced the same result every time. They'll have another member for their infamous flock of Ancunin Daughters before the month is out.

When Tav tells him one evening just before their soon-to-be-second-youngest's bedtime that the little one's announced her debut via a puddle on the kitchen floor, there is no panic, no rush, no mad dash to ready everything. They've been through this far too many times for that. He takes a moment to be grateful that at least this one had waited until the sun was down to kick things off. Most of her sisters had not been nearly so courteous, choosing instead to have their first act be one of defiance against their poor stressed out father by beginning their journey into life in the middle of the day.

He bundles the girls off to the neighbors' house for the night, leaving them with a quick kiss on the head each and a promise that he'll send a Message as soon as their new sister has arrived, before making his way to fetch the Midwife. He vaguely wonders if she's even necessary, considering they have enough offspring that he's got the whole process all but memorized and is fairly certain he and Tav could deliver the child themselves at this point (and had done, once. Baby number five had been VERY eager to make her way into the world, with such a swift entry that she'd nearly been born on the living room floor. He'd had no time to even grab a towel and was forced to catch her with his bare hands. She'd ruined his shirt, and the rug, and nearly scared the unlife out of him on top of it. He'd been very calm throughout the entire event, though, a paragon of unflappable stability, patiently waiting until the babe was born, cleaned, and moved upstairs to the bedroom where she snuggled peacefully in her sleeping mother's arms, before politely stepping out the bedroom door and proceeding to have the quietest panic of his entire existence).

When he arrives back home with the Midwife, he doesn’t bother to direct her to the bedroom. She knows where it is, this isn’t her first rodeo with an Ancunin birth either. Water is boiled, clean towels are at hand, their nice bedding has been replaced with plain serviceable sheets, a layer of newspaper underneath to protect the mattress, a tiny outfit and knitted blanket sit ready nearby. Check, check, check. He completes each step with pure muscle memory and no prompting, all routine, everything exactly as expected.

The next nine hours are spent keeping Tav as comfortable as possible. Rubbing her back, walking circles around the house, stopping at each contraction to gently sway and do the breathing exercises that they'd learned so long ago the first time they did this. Normally, she'd catch what sleep she could in between contractions in these early stages, but this one is determined to allow her mother no rest. He really hopes that's not an indication of what the little one’s sleep schedule will look like once she's here.

They near the end of this whole ordeal with the first light of morning. He's sat behind Tav, holding her up, as she grits her teeth through near back-to-back contractions and shakes with the effort of bringing this last child into the world. She's exhausted, grumpily hissing between pushes that of course his child would be fucking nocturnal and think the asscrack of dawn was a splendid time to be born. He considers reminding her that most of their children had been born during the day, so he really didn’t think the timing of this one could be blamed on him, but any response he might have had is cut off with the next push, when he feels his knuckle bones grind together as she once again resumes her efforts to reduce them to powder. It's probably for the best that he keep that comment to himself right now, anyway, he thinks.

One more big push to get the head out. It's barely visible from his position, head leaning over Tav's shoulder, but he can see that she definitely has the same full head of hair all her sisters did, and maybe his hair color as well, though it's hard to really tell through the blood and fluids plastering it all to her scalp. Could be red for all he knows. He mutters something about not being able to see her hair through the blood, and Tav gives him a sly sideways glance and starts to crack a joke, something about him not having eaten since yesterday, he thinks, before she’s interrupted by a loud, pained, groan and the need to push again.

A few more hard, steady pushes, guided by the Midwife, for the shoulders this time. This is always the hardest part, he remembers, the final hurdle. He whispers gentle encouragement into Tav's ear as, timed with her pushes, the Midwife carefully guides first one shoulder, then the other, out into the world. Poor Tav is bright red from the exertion, covered in sweat and panting. He places a cool hand on her forehead and she leans into his palm as, with a scream and one last push, the babe is finally brought into the world.

Oh.

Able to get a closer look at her now, he can see this one bears more than just a passing resemblance to her father. Frankly, she looks exactly like him, albeit smaller, wrinklier, and with fewer teeth (for now). Pale, even for a newborn, with tiny, finely-pointed ears, and a head of unruly white curls. When she finally opens her eyes, leveling her parents with an annoyed glare that could have come right off his own face (or so he’s been told), he sees his own gaze reflected back at him in pale green, the color they’d learned with the birth of their second daughter that his eyes used to be. He feels a little bad, honestly. Tav did all the hard work, and yet here their daughter is, their last baby, him in miniature. Not bad enough to keep him from preening a bit when he mentions how beautiful she is, though.

Tav is still giggling. Quietly, but noticeably louder now than before his comment.

He raises an eyebrow at her and asks just what is so funny, and her giggling increases to laughter.

You, she says, in between fits of giggles. She asks if he had been paying attention to anything the Midwife had said, and the confused look on his face only serves to make her laugh harder. He waits while she tries to contain herself, releasing a very put upon sigh when, a few minutes later, she’s still laughing at whatever this joke at his expense is.

Finally, she takes a deep breath, holding in her laughter, eyes still sparkling with mirth, and slowly unwraps their daughter. He is, once again, confused, and the baby’s none too happy either, starting to fuss with the sudden loss of warmth. Before he can say anything, Tav shifts and places the now bared and still slightly-slimy infant in his arms, advising him to get acquainted with their newest little one. He wrinkles his nose at the goo rubbing off onto his sleeves, some sarcastic remark ready on his tongue, reaching out with one hand to take the towel from Tav as he looks down to begin settling his daughter, and-

Well.

That explains why Tav was laughing at him, at least.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks that he probably should have caught that a lot sooner. It’s almost embarrassing really, considering his various skillsets, he’s usually pretty good at noticing little details. He doesn’t really have the brainpower to ponder that too long though, because the rest of his mind is still trying to reconcile this shift in information.

The best he’s able to come up with is dazedly asking Tav how that had happened, which just induces her into another fit of tired giggles as she presses a gentle kiss to his lips, and another to the top of their son’s fuzzy head.

He smiles and thinks that the girls will be delighted at this change of protocol.

#astarion x tav #astarion/tav #dadstarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #One for the Road #This is literally my first time ever posting fic pls be gentle lol #and if you see any mistakes no you didn't #this started out as a reply to a request for dadstarion headcanons and now it's over 2k words help #started out with a kiss how did it end up like this etc #Also considered calling it either Going Out of Business or Fire Sale re: the ''shop's closed'' line #2k+

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luckycheesefoodie321 · 2 years

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Mari wears Chat Merch fic

Originally posted under this post by @glockenzspiel, figured I may as well dedicate its own. Not a fanfic writer but I like writing, and I was feeling inspired XD Disclaimer: only watched a few eps of MLB but really wanna get into it. Most of my knowledge has been absorbed through tumblr and osmosis. Make a lot of assumptions based on y'all and your reactions, so there is the slightest of angst re: the most recent season where Chat feels like Ladybug is replacing him. I also yadda yadda past the reveal bc don't wanna touch that with my limited knowledge. But anyway! Enjoy!

2k+ words. Oneshot. About that one black tshirt with a new green paw print on it that apparently yall have collectively decided Marinette owns. Otherwise mostly wholesome.

Chat’s eyes were brighter than usual.

Ladybug watched in bemusement as he came screeching to a halt on their way back from another successful mission, and stood in front of a little street stall. The stall owner seemed to have fled to safety during the last akuma attack.

It was covered top to bottom in Chat Noir merchandise.

This wasn’t an unusual sight. There were dozens of Chat Noir-specific merch vendors all over the city. There were just as many Ladybug stalls. There were even whole department store sections dedicated to celebrating the resident heroes of Paris.

“This is so cool!” Chat gushes, his eyes glowing a vibrant green, hands clutching at a black shirt. Ladybug peered around him and noticed the black t-shirt had a single neon green paw print in the centre. She raised an eyebrow.

“Really, kitty? There’s probably a dozen like it” she chuckled, as he whirled around with a mock offended look on his face.

“How can you not appreciate how incredible this design is, milady?!” he argued as she smirked at him. “The simplicity yet sophistication. It’s bold but understated!” He waved the shirt around but she merely blinked at it. He pouted at her lack of enthusiasm.

“Bet Marinette would appreciate this” he grumbled, fingering the material.

“What was that?” Ladybug tilted her head, not having heard him. Chat’s ears twitched as he glanced back at her. “…I was saying it’s a shame you don’t realise how awesome this shirt is!” he finally said, thrusting the shirt into her face.

“Like it that much?” she giggled, gently pushing it away. His jaw clenched with playful stubbornness.

“Do you know what this says, LB?” he crooked a brow.

“What does it say, Chat?” she indulged him.

“It says, ‘I am a Chat Noir fan 100%’” he whispered dramatically. He leaned back with a bright grin. “I wonder if I could just leave some money and take this?” he mumbled to himself.

Ladybug burst out laughing.

---

Later, Marinette was driving around, running some deliveries on her scooter when she passed by the stall she had visited earlier that day.

There was still a stack of those Chat Noir shirts, but now with a bored vendor tending to the stall.

She couldn’t help but giggle, remembering how delighted Chat had been.

Marinette pursed her lips as she walked up to the stall, looking at the shirt. There really was nothing special about the shirt. It was a plain black tee, the neon green paw print stamped on. No embellishments, nothing clever. As a burgeoning fashion designer, nothing about the material or graphic design seemed exciting to her.

But Chat Noir had loved it.

As a general rule, and also because it was really, really weird, Marinette didn’t buy Chat merch. Let alone her own. That would be even weirder. But here she hesitated.

“Excuse me, miss, but are you planning on buying anything?” the vendor finally piped up, having watched as the strange young girl seemingly zoned out in front of his stall.

“Oh!” a bright flush spread across her face. “Uh, um, yes uh, this please!” she hastily grabbed one of the shirts, not even bothering to check the size and handing it to the vendor to ring up.

She paid for the shirt, gave the vendor an embarrassed smile, before running off to finish her errands, the now bagged shirt clutched in her hands.

---

An hour later, she stood, holding the shirt in front of her. It was a little big but nothing too crazy.

“I mean, I suppose I should try it on” she shrugged, and changed into it. Marinette looked in her mirror.

There she was. The Ladybug, wearing a Chat Noir t-shirt.

“Yup. About as weird as I thought it would be” she announced to the empty room, strangely embarrassed. “But it’s pretty comfy.” She played with the hem of the shirt and shrugged. Guess these were her pyjamas for the night.

---

As time would go on, the Chat shirt would naturally become part of her loungewear rotation. Marinette no longer felt self-conscious, and would often happily don it to go to sleep. It was a really comfortable shirt.

So comfortable, in fact, that she would forget she was wearing it.

Which would come back to bite her in a very embarrassing way.

---

It had been a long day of fighting another one of Hawkmoth’s akumas, and Marinette decided that a quiet evening looking out at the beautiful city of Paris on her balcony, with a hot mug of cocoa was exactly what she needed.

“That smells good,” a voice suddenly spoke. She looked to her left and saw Chat Noir perched on the ledge of the balcony. She rolled her eyes and smiled.

She had gotten used to these abrupt late night visits from Chat. Since he didn’t know she was Ladybug, she could relax and not worry about fending off his flirting.

“Hot cocoa. Want some?” she offered, preparing to push away from where she had been leaning. He shook his head and instead shifted from his crouch to sit properly on the ledge, legs dangling over the edge.

They both gazed out at the twinkling lights of the city.

“Tired from a long day saving the world?” she sipped at her drink. He shrugged, smiling down at her.

“A little, yeah” he admitted, and she looked up at him. He wasn’t usually so forthcoming.

“The job getting you down?” she asked, hesitantly.

One good thing about being Marinette and Chat Noir, was she could ask him things she wasn’t brave enough to ask as Ladybug. It was something that had long since been on her mind. Her role as a hero. His role as her partner. Living this double life. All the responsibilities they both were facing. She wondered if he felt the same way.

“Well, you know. The constant fighting gets to you after a while,” his eyes glowed in the black night, as he stared into the distance. She did know. “Well at least you have Ladybug at your side,” she offered, but all she received was a sad smile.

“Ladybug is great. She’s strong and steadfast and never seems to let anything get to her.” He went quiet for a moment. “It can be pretty intimidating, actually.”

Marinette’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re…intimidated by Ladybug?” the shock in her voice made him turn, and he shook his head vehemently.

“No! No, that’s not what I meant,” he raised his hands defensively. “Don’t get me wrong. I love this part about her. Her duty to the city and her role, and how fearless she is in the face of insurmountable odds! But… it kinda leaves very little room for me. Like even if I weren’t there, she’d still do just fine.”

He almost whispered that final part, and Marinette’s heart squeezed tight. She had never realised he felt this way. In her eyes, Chat Noir was unshakeable, undeterred, grinning through all the trials they faced as heroes. She looked to him as a shoulder to lean on and a support she could rely on. He was the best partner she could ever hope for. And yet she had made him feel like she didn’t need him.

She reached one hand over and laid it over Chat’s clenched fist. He looked at her and she glared at hi.

“You know that’s not true. Ladybug needs Chat Noir just as much as Chat Noir needs Ladybug.” She squeezed his hand. “I know it. You know it. And the whole of Paris knows it.”

Chat studied her gaze as she studied his, before they both smiled. “You think so?” he finally asked.

“I do. And I know Ladybug would think the same.” She gave him a pointed look. “You should tell her how you feel.”

For some reason, Chat’s ears turned red, but he coughed and looked away. “Yeah, maybe I should.” She nodded, and finally leaned back.

“Sure you don’t want some cocoa?” she asked.

He pondered for a second, before turning around. “Yeah, why not? I have time for- HEY!”

“What?!” she looked around, worried some hidden enemy had ambushed them on her balcony. It was still quiet, empty night and she looked back at him. He was looking at her clothes.

“My shirt!”

Marinette glanced down at herself, horror dawning on her.

“Oh no” she wheeled around, looking for something to cover the green pawprint, but there was no such object. She settled for instead covering her face with her hands, avoiding Chat Noir’s ear-to-ear grin.

“You bought a Chat Noir shirt!” he chimed, his voice bubbling with excitement.

“No, I didn’t!” she denied, trying to shuffle towards the door leading back into her home.

“Don’t deny it! I saw this shirt the other day with Ladybug!” he slid in front of her, blocking her escape.

“It’s not the same shirt. Not related to you at all” She tried to slip past him but the wasn’t letting her past.

“Don’t lie! Who else could be represented by a green paw print?” he demanded, planting his fists on his hips.

Marinette scrambled for an excuse.

“It’s this, uh, great indie band I know, Neon Leopards. Big fan. Yup.” Chat burst out laughing and allowed Marinette to push him inside as she re-entered her home. She stopped him before he could follow her in.

“Didn’t realise you were a Chat Noir fan, Marinette” he leaned in close to her bright red face but she locked her brows stubbornly.

“I’m a Neon Leopards fan,” she huffed. “Also, I just realised I drank the last of the hot cocoa. So I’m afraid you’ll have to leave now!”

Chat Noir didn’t even try to stop her, too busy snickering.

She slammed the door shut on his laughing face.

---

Over the subsequent months and years, the Chat shirt would becoming an ongoing joke between Chat and Marinette. When Chat Noir mentioned Marinette owning his merchandise to Ladybug, it took everything for her not to burst into flames from embarrassment and react with cool indifference.

But it would soon make way for an even bigger reveal.

“Wait, Marinette. You’re Ladybug?!”

“You’re Chat Noir, Adrien?!”

The Chat shirt would not be a topic that would come up for a good while after this, as Marinette and Adrien adjusted not only to the news that they were Chat and Ladybug respectively, but also the newfound romantic relationship they had entered into soon after the reveal.

Until one day, when Chat appeared on her balcony.

--- “Claws in!” and suddenly, Adrien Agreste was on her balcony.

Marinette poked her head out onto the balcony and huffed, coming to stand in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

“Hey Marinette!” he greeted her, before freezing midstride.

“Adrien, you know you can use the front door!” she complained, before noticing the creeping smile on his face.

She felt a tingling sensation on her neck and weird sense of déjà vu as he stared at her clothes. She glanced down and sighed.

“Neon Leopards, huh?” he smirked, walking over and wrapping her in his arms.

“This is why you don’t catch a lady off guard” she grumbled, leaning her red face into his chest.

“I should’ve known you were Ladybug when I saw you wearing this shirt. The fashion-forward design genius Marinette would never have bought this kind of top otherwise” he chuckled, pulling back enough to look at his cute lady’s face.

She rolled her eyes, lazily draping her arms around his neck.

“I guess I couldn’t help myself.” She sighed, smiling playfully. “I mean, it’s simple, yet sophisticated.” She teased. He nodded seriously. “Truly bold yet understated” he declared, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

“I mean, do you know what this says?” she leaned in, whispering dramatically. He followed her lead.

“What does it say?” he whispered back. “It says, ‘I’m a Chat Noir fan, 100%’” she grinned, and he couldn’t resist. He leaned in and pecked her lightly on the lips. A light pink tinged her cheeks and across her nose.

“Clearly you wouldn’t survive without me,” he sighed, winking at her. She jabbed him in the ribs. He jerked before retaliating by tickling her. She giggled and swatted his hands away.

“There is no Ladybug without Chat Noir, after all,” she announced.

“And no Adrien without Marinette” he murmured. She blushed again, and how could Adrien resist that. He leaned back in once more.

#miraculous ladybug #mlb oneshot #fanfic #miraculous ladybug oneshot #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #marinette x adrien #marichat #adrienette #ladybug #chat noir #ladynoir #mlb ship #writing #glockenzspiel #ladybug fic #2k fic #2k+

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