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bloomingpaper · 2 years

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s’mores / conrad fisher

warnings: mentions of fire and food wordcount: 516.

— imagine having a fire with the Conklins' and Fishers' . . .

The bright yellow flames from the fire illuminated all our faces. The heat from the flames makes your cheeks turn a deep red. Susannah asks, "does anybody want to make s'mores?"

Jeremiah is the first to pipe up, "Mom, I thought you were never gonna ask."

"I'll be right back, my sweet little boy," she replies, getting up from her chair and kissing her son's head. You watch her close the back door and turn on the kitchen light.

Conrad, who was sitting on your right, turns his body so he's facing you. he leans over and whispers in your ear, "i'll make you a s'more when my mom brings out the supplies. i make the best s'mores in cousins, everyone knows this," a large smirk spread over his face.

Now your cheeks weren't only red from the hot flames. "that sounds amazing, Conrad, but are they that good?"

"y/n, are you seriously questioning my s'more abilities right now? wait until I make you one." He crossed his arms proudly.

He moves back in his chair. Susannah opens the back door with gram crackers, marshmallows and a chocolate bar in her left arm, "don't worry everybody, I got the goods." she smiles proudly. She lays them out on the glass table next to her and Laurel's chair.

"hey, laur, can you please pass me two marshmallows?" Conrad asked, putting his hand out.

"Sure, hun, here you go." She opened the bag and passed him two marshmallows. He nods, giving his thanks.

Conrad gets up and walks over to get a roasting stick. He puts the marshmallows on it and sits back on his chair beside you. He puts them over the fire until they're golden brown. He walks to get two-gram crackers and a piece of chocolate. Conrad assembles your s'more on the glass table and walks over to give you the s'more. He leans back in his chair and puts his arm around you.

"so, y/n, how is it? Have I changed your mind about how a perfect s'more should taste?"

"Wow, I think it's one of the best s'mores I have ever had," you admit.

He cringes, "one, one? y/n do you mean it's the best you ever had?"

you lightly hit his shoulder, "Fine, it might be the best I've ever had."

"that's what I thought." he leans over to you again and runs his thumb around the bottom of your lip. "you got marshmallow all over your face. That's how I know you're enjoying it, you were trying to save some for later."

You lean over and kiss his lips, "gosh, you're such a dork, Connie."

Steven and Belly shut their eyes quickly, "a warning before you kiss him next time would be great, y/n," Steven shouts and gags.

Conrad flips them off. Jeremiah throws his blanket over you guys, covering both of your heads. Conrad kisses you on the cheek, "and i'm the dork?" he whispers.

#the summer i turned pretty #primevideo #conrad fisher #jeremiahfisher #imagine #gifs #s'mores #campfires #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher imagine

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jinxiethescribe · 6 months

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Campfires: Astarion

The camp was slowly settling into the quietness of the evening – or what passed for evening in the perpetual twilight of the Underdark. Astarion discarded the book he’d been idly leafing through. He’d long since memorised it anyway, but it served as a helpful tool for keeping the others out of his business. His travelling companions were all slipping into sleep around him, and the night seemed peaceful, despite the chaos of their situation. It certainly made a change from the usual camp drama.

Their merry little band had been travelling together a while now. Long enough to get a measure of one another. Long enough for them to know about his condition and begrudgingly, even accept it.

Well, naturally not all of them truly accepted it, not yet. Astarion had seen the way Wyll’s hand strayed to the fiendish rapier whenever they were within arm's reach. Lae’zel outright threatened to stake him on a near-daily basis- but that could also pass for flirtation with the fiery gith. Even Gale had kept a closer eye on him than was strictly necessary. Gale, who had a voracious appetite for expensive, Weave-infused items and should really understand that we don’t always choose how we get to live. Gale, judging him for needing a little blood to merely survive. It was almost laughable.

No, perhaps it was more accurate to say that Tav accepted him, and the others merely tolerated him for now. His gaze settled on them now, huddled in their bedroll and silhouetted by the dying campfire. Trusting him once again to take only what he needed and to leave them with their life.

Astarion’s thoughts strayed back to that first night. He’d been so gods damned weak. Weaker than he could ever remember. The area he had landed in was forested and should have been teeming with animals, but between the goblins and the large camp around Emerald Grove, what little wildlife remained was tough to catch. He’d been relieved when he’d finally snared a boar that had been blundering in the forest near to their own camp. However, in his weakened state and in unfamiliar territory, he’d left the remains exposed, and so naturally the party had found them the very next day. Just as naturally, Tav had stopped, their attention caught by the unfamiliar sight. His luck in a nutshell.

Despite his best efforts, Tav had seen his discomfort, and Astarion had found himself telling them about vampires. Not himself, mind you, he’d had about that much self-preservation left. But the word vampire had passed his lips before he’d really had a chance to rethink it. He promised Tav that he would keep watch and promised himself that he would not weaken any further. He could not afford to be exposed in this state.

The same night, he’d tried to bite Tav, thinking that they might be a little easier to sneak up on than the others. In hindsight, he should have gone for Gale, just to prove a point to the smug bastard. He might be able to walk in the sun now, but his movements were slow, his thoughts were sluggish, and their situation was precarious enough. No, he needed strength, protection. He needed real blood. Then he might be able to formulate some kind of a plan.

He really should have known better. He did know better in fact, but the temptation was right there and impossible to resist. Just how many of his master’s rules could he break now? He’d crept over, and despite his best efforts to stay silent, Tav had opened their eyes at exactly the most damning moment. He’d been caught with his fangs bared, quite literally, and so he’d done the only thing left to him – he’d confessed.

Miraculously, he’d escaped getting staked on the spot. They’d even been understanding of his situation. He’d seen Tav slaughter goblins without blinking and face threats of violence from all kinds of folk with almost ruthless compassion. He never expected to see, in that dim firelight, the same compassion turned on himself. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

“Gods, we even found the pig you snacked on,” Tav had shaken their head a little at that and to his utter shock, smiled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Still stunned, he’d answered honestly. Perhaps a little more honestly than he should have, but they were being just being so gods-damned reasonable about all this. He was a vampire spawn. Turned by that vicious sadist Cazador and condemned to the shadows, to feed on insects or putrid rats for these past two centuries. Until now. As weak as he was, he could feel the sunlight again, cross running rivers, even enter homes without permission. Experiences that he’d not had since he’d been a magistrate in the city.

Tav had taken his confession in their stride. If anything, they were entirely too reasonable, too trusting. Not that he’d cared too much at the time. He took full advantage and finally managed to sink his fangs into something worthy.

After two centuries of starving, surviving on fetid scraps of thin, weak blood, it was indescribable. Better than water to a man dying of thirst. Better than food to the man starving to death. He’d been suffering both of those for these past two centuries, and then some. He could feel Tav’s emotions reverberating through their blood. Through him. There was a little fear, yes, but that only awoke something darker in response. There was something else too. When his fangs pierced their skin, it was like his own blood came alive for the first time in all these long years. He was barely aware of anything else as he drank, deeply. More deeply than he’d intended really, as long-suppressed instincts threatened to completely overwhelm his reason. Tav’s blood washed through him, connecting them. He could feel their trust and the power he held over them in that moment. It was utterly intoxicating.

Finally, he had felt their hand on his chest. A gentle pressure, but their touch and their voice broke through the rush of sensations, telling him it was enough. He almost didn’t stop, but something made him pull back, every single one of his heightened senses blazing and painfully aware. He’d torn his eyes away from the smear of blood left on Tav’s neck and stalked off to find something to drain. Not that he needed more blood mind, but he needed to get his fangs far away from trusting necks. They had given him a gift that he could never repay, and he had just enough awareness left to thank them, and not take their life in return. He’d only crept back into camp as dawn was breaking, settling back into his customary spot moments before the others began to stir.

Predictably, there had been questions. He’d honestly still expected to be chased from camp at the sharp end of a stake, but Tav had asked him to stay. Defended him even, when other members of the group had been far more condemning of the monster in their midst. And Tav had even invited him to feed on them again – blithely unaware at how close he’d come to draining them completely mere hours before. He’d felt echoes of his feeding for the whole day afterwards. Hells, he couldn’t remember ever feeling so good.

Tav however, seemed to have had a rather different experience. They’d tried not to show it in front of him, but he’d seen nonetheless. Wincing slightly as they’d cleaned the dried blood from their neck. Their movements slower, their skin paler, as though they’d recently recovered from an illness. Clearly, their experience had not been as enjoyable and yet they still invited him back. They’d not treated him any differently. Questions, condemnation he had expected, but the acceptance was almost unnerving, and he certainly hadn’t trusted it. He saw it as useful though, and each night, with Tav’s invitation, he’d take what he needed, dragging himself away when he felt their pulse slow, taking it as his cue that it was enough. Each night, he fought that dark and unnameable urge to keep going, to drink deeper, and he’d stalk off to find something challenging to vent that urge on. Something with claws was preferable. Each morning, he’d watch as Tav washed the dried blood from their skin without a word passing between them about it. He’d see the pain in their movements, while pretending to read his book without a care. He could feel Tav’s emotions towards him changing, softening. He saw the opportunity and weighed it. Waiting.

The camp had settled around their new nightly rhythm. He’d occasionally caught one of the others watching him as he stalked over to Tav’s bedroll in the night, but no one had intervened. They might not trust him, and he certainly didn’t trust them, but this group did trust Tav and so he was careful not to kill the one thing between him and the sharp end of his other companions.

However, after one too many pointed comments from that prickly cleric, he was all too aware of how thin Tav’s protection was. They faced danger every day, and it would be all-to-easy for Tav to be killed, leaving him exposed. Shadowheart was certainly not afraid of brandishing a dagger in the night, as the gith had foolishly discovered. Once again, Tav had been there to diffuse the situation, and once again, he’d watched from the shadows. Calculating his own odds. Yes, Tav trusted him, but it was still a wary kind of trust. Tav might not show it on their face, but the suspicion was there, in the blood. There was still a risk that the trust would break and then he would be in real danger. He needed to bring them closer.

And so, he’d done what Cazador had trained him to do when he’d needed to bring prey to the crypt. He’d sunken into that same despicable habit, the seduction falling from his lips almost unconsciously the very next day. He’d died a coward’s death when he saw Tav’s eyes light up and accepted his invitation for a private night, not seeing the lie behind his intentions. Not that Tav was unpleasant, far from it. Over time, he really had come to appreciate them as a person. Under other circumstances, he might have even pursued them for genuine companionship. But here, now?

This was ultimately a calculated move to draw his few allies closer, even if he only admitted that to himself. Loathe as he was to admit, he played the part well. Though once again found himself unexpectedly exposed. Tav had the habit of making him feel like he was a lot more transparent than he liked. And now he was left with the additional puzzle of what in the hells Cazador had in mind for Infernal runes on his back. And the puzzle of Tav themselves.

He found his eyes resting on their sleeping form once again, studying their features. The camp was sound asleep, right down to their dog and foundling owlbear. He could see all of their outlines as clear as day. By the fire, Tav shifted, their back to him. Still so trusting, even now. In their tents, Lae’zel, Gale, Karlach, even Wyll and Shadowheart now accepting him enough that they didn’t keep watch. The others were slightly further afield, but still putting no guard on him. He was, for all intents, a welcome part of the group. Not so long ago, he would have revelled in the power it gave him, wandering through the camp at night with absolute freedom to take whatever he wanted from them, down to their very lives. Now though, the thought of doing so left him oddly hollow. He walked past their forms on silent footsteps, no longer weak enough to wake them with his movements. No longer tempted to take anything from them, if he was being honest. Even if Gale did have some very nice shoes.

He looked down at Tav, soundly asleep at his feet. The warm glow of embers highlighted the planes of a face that he knew would haunt him for the rest of his days, regardless of where this journey took them both. The taste of their blood, the echo of their peaceful dreams, still lingered on his tongue. Impulsively, he bent down again, pulling the edge of the bedroll back over Tav’s shoulder. Covering the evidence.

He straightened again, frowning at the emotions the small action provoked. He forced the whole mess aside and physically pushed himself away. There were bigger things to worry about. Devils, mind flayers, hells just their camping spot alone put them in peril. He stalked back to his tent in irritation, deliberately sitting so that Tav could only be seen in his periphery. His awareness remained on them though, as it often did. He was determined to keep the whole blasted lot of them at bay. He could not lose this chance to finally break free. He would not be chained to another soul again, no matter who they were or what they offered.

Dawn never really arrives in the Underdark. However, the low light of the fungi around them might have brightened a little and the camp began to stir. In the deep shadows of his tent, Astarion’s eyes glittered, unreadable as they followed Tav’s every move while they readied themselves for another day.

“Hello, beautiful.” His mouth smiled as they greeted him. Tav brightened and he tried not to feel his guts tighten. Guilt was an emotion he had no use for.

“You can feed on me tonight, if you like.” Always, he felt the surprise. Always, he refused to let it show.

“Then I’ll see you tonight, you sweet generous thing.”

He pretended not to see Tav’s answering smile as they sauntered off, falling into conversation with Shadowheart as they prepared for the day ahead. Astarion felt the smile slide right off his face. Hells, he truly was in danger with that one around.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #bg3 tav #tav #bg3 spoilers #fanfic #baldurs gate fanart #bg3 fanfiction #campfires #gale #lae'zel #shadowheart #wyll ravengard #vampire #vampire spawn #mature #long reads

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