#so like. cut me a little bit of bone here my friend its lining up in Ways in my head <:') | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grapesplease · 3 months

Text

bleed me out and hang me to dry

astarion x male! drow! bard! tav

an. sequel to i love you (i'm sorry) its the 3+1 trope! :D full of oc info and astarion fluff! i love these bastards to death! also egregious use of random star shit i learned, probably not dnd lore compliant but wtv

cw. mentions of past torture and abuse

“Why are you giving me that look?”

“You’re really going to help me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” The elf gives Altair a confused look, wondering what was going on in his head, “You, the bleeding heart that you are, promised everyone here help with their problems, and yet you think I wouldn’t help you fight some drow?”

“No? You have no obligation to help me, you don’t get anything out of it.” Altair has an incredulous look on his face, “You- What do you get out of helping me?"

wc. 7.4k

Altair let out sharp hiss of pain as Astarion applies a salve to his knee. His pant leg is rolled high, and he knows that he has to roll it higher for Astarion to properly help him.

The elf is kneeled down in front of him; they had just been through a fight with a nasty group of goblins, and Shadowheart was fresh out of magic to heal him. So now his partner (whatever their relationship was) was treating him the old fashioned way, with good ole’ bandages and salve.

He wants to keep his old scar hidden, and against his better judgment, he considers doing it. Thinking that fighting the next few days in pain would be fine.

“Not like it's something I haven't done before..”

“Would you be a dear and roll up your pants a bit more?” The elf asks, glancing up at him through his lashes. “I need to just finish treating you, I promise that no kind of carnal lust is on my mind right now.”

He hesitates, but reluctantly listens to him. There’s a brand on his thigh, given to him by his dear friend Ariadne. A little reminder of how he could never truly escape her, and that he’d never forget who he belonged to.

He could never forget the pain of searing hot metal.

It was a constellation, Ariadne told him that it had the star he was named after in it. She had told him it was a present for being the new quote on quote, “rising star” in the ring. (A bit on the nose, if you ask him.)

He hated how she had said it back then, now that he was seeing everything in retrospect. “Rising star,” his ass! He was just trying to fucking survive! How could she say that like it was an accomplishment, like he should be proud of killing people? When he was barely breathing after every fight?

She was the one who was bringing him back from near death every time, broken bones healing back together and cuts closing in an instant weren't new to him. Ariadne was the one who kept him in the fight, whether he liked it or not.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Astarion, who’d started lightly tracing over the scar. Altair flinches, his body stiffening. His gaze meets Astarion’s, and his breath hitches. It wasn’t like he'd never seen it, he just never disclosed who exactly gave him that scar, or what it meant to him.

“I never told you how I got that brand, did I?”

Astarion sighs, bandaging up his leg and setting the salve aside, “No, you never did.” He traces over the exposed skin, thin lines connected with pinprick dots. It was intricate, clear that much thought went into it. “Were you tortured by an astrologer? You have one too many space themed scars, love.”

It wasn't a lie, he had a few tattoos of various constellations, along with a few more star-shaped scars on his back. His jewelry box of star themed earrings and necklaces didn't help much, either.

He chuckles in response, “She really loved the history of my name, apparently.” His eyes look up to the night sky, and he motions for Astarion to sit next to him.

“There it is,” He points to a collection of stars, “the Aquila constellation. It's shaped kind of like an arrow, and the one at the top, the brightest one, is the star I’m named after.”

“How poetic.” Astarion comments, he supposes that it's fitting, as Altair had been a consistent beacon of hope for him. “What does it symbolize?”

“The constellation represents strength,” Altair replies, “I assume my father wanted me to be strong, knowing the hell he left me to live in.”

He shudders, remembering the things he had to do to survive in the Underdark. It was times like these where he cursed his elven memory, wishing he couldn't remember every fight he's ever had, every scar he’d ever gotten.

He wishes he didn't have to remember the desperate looks of his opponents. He knows that the same desperation was mirrored in his eyes.

His guilt doesn’t make him feel any better, but he hopes it serves as some kind of penance. After all, they were the same as him, people who were victims of sick games that drow nobility used to entertain themselves.

“He left me in the Underdark, so that he could live up on the surface with my mother.” Altair says, “They were happy, according to him, but my mother was killed by monsters a few years after they left me.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Astarion replies, moving to hold Altair’s hand, his fingers running over the back of it. “They traded your freedom for theirs, that's awfully unfair.”

“An eye for an eye, I suppose."

Altair thinks back to when he first got to Baldur’s Gate after escaping the Underdark. He met his dad there, peacefully idling away at a book. Oh, how angry he was to find out that the man that had abandoned him was just living his life, acting like there was nothing wrong in the world.

He remembers that one of the first things he did was slap him, and cuss him out. Gods, he was almost dragged away to jail before his father stopped the soldiers. His father let out endless apologies, but all he thought at the time was that his father looked pathetic.

The next thing he did was ask him questions. “Why did you leave me?” “Why didn't you try to save me?” “What made you think this was fair to me?” “Why did you put me through that?” “Do you regret it?”

“Did you ever miss me?”

They’ve talked since then, argued, apologized, the whole nine yards. He's reconciled with his father, but he doesn't think he can ever forgive him for leaving him in the Underdark. Nothing can ever convince him that his father did the right thing, or that it was the only thing his father could’ve done.

“A woman named Ariadne gave that scar to me,” He admits, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck, “She was the first person I ever befriended down there, she's the one I thought would help me escape. Unfortunately, she sold me out for the mere chance of gaining power.”

“Was she the one who made you become a gladiator?”

“No, but she did sponsor many of my fights, and a lot of my cosmetics.” He motions to the myriad of star-related tattoos on his body. “These tattoos were one of them, along with..” He tucks his hair behind his right ear, revealing how half is cut off, “This lovely parting gift.”

“Couldn't aim for the neck, could she?”

“She fancied herself a killer, but she was pathetically bad with a knife!” He barks out a laugh, “Clearly things have changed since then, because she’s confident enough to try and kill me again.”

“I don't think we should worry too much, if half an ear is all the damage she can do to you.” Astarion chuckles, “Karlach would have her set ablaze before she even got to your tent!”

“I’m sure you’d take a chunk out of her neck before she could take one out of mine.”

“Oh! Such high praise from someone as strong as yourself!” The two are laughing with each other, hands intertwined. Altair wants to savor moments like these, wanting to remember what it feels like to be normal, to care for someone like this.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to ask-” He turns to Astarion, catching his breath, “When we met, you recognized me, where did you first find me?”

“Well, at some shit tavern, no offense to your musical skills, mind you-” He sighs, recalling the moment. “You piqued my interest, being a drow playing the violin and singing. Here you were, a sparkly, singing drow! I even tried propositioning you!”

“Oh, that can’t have gone well.”

(He knows it didn't.)

“You rejected me, very harshly!” Astarion dramatically leans onto Altair’s shoulder, a hand over his forehead. “My ego! Horribly wounded by a sparkly bard!”

“What was it that I said exactly?”

“You said I looked sickly! Like I could barely walk up the stairs! Never mind getting in bed with you! I thought I hid my whole “being dead” thing well- until you came along!”

“Oh yes, it was something along the lines of, ‘Perhaps you should visit a hospital bed before you visit mine.’” Altair snickers, remembering the mortified look that Astarion had given him. “And you left in a huff after calling me a few choice words. In my defense, I was incredibly wasted."

“I mean, I got to bed you eventually.” The elf snarks, “So I guess everything worked out in the end.”

“I guess it did.”

“..aand that's how I bravely defended myself from an assassin!” Altair’s piss drunk, spouting about absolute nonsense, “In fact, that's how I got thiis rapier!” He waves his sword around, laughing.

Astarion rolls his eyes, sipping from his own bottle of wine. He knew Altair had a drinking problem, he just didn't think it was this bad. However, it was certainly fun to see him yelling and screaming. It was a nice change of pace from his usually more put together and cheery persona.

“Wait- hand me my violin!” He slurred out, his arm was wrapped around Alfira’s shoulders. “Alfira, we should play togeth’r, a duet! A duet! You said you wanted to be bard in Baldur’s Gate, riight? I know a great tavern tha’ would be perfect for youu~”

“Now, I think it's high time you let go of your bottle.” Astarion chides, taking Altair’s wine away from him. The drow responds with a groan, and looks up at Astarion with pleading eyes. “Don't look at me like that, darling, you need to be cut off at some point. I don't want you whining to Shadowheart about a hangover.”

“Oh come onn, I know how much I can drink.”

“Oh, you're such a big baby.” He politely smiles to the group of tieflings that had gathered around Altair, and then pries him off of Alfira, dragging him towards his tent. “Apologies for my dear partner, I’ll be taking him off your hands now.”

Astarion sits him down, going off to find a bottle of water for him. Altair watches him attentively, prompting Astarion to turn, raising an eyebrow.

“What? See something you like?”

“You caree about me~” He giggles, thinking it’s the funniest thing in the world. How silly! To think that someone like Astarion would care for him! To think that anyone would care for a mess like him. “Youu care! Hahaha!”

“Only because I know you won't remember it in the morning.”

“I will!” He retorts, flailing his arms about, “I will! I swear!”

“I doubt it, love.” Astarion pushes the rim of the water bottle to Altair’s mouth. “Drink.”

“What are you, my-” The rest of his sentence is cut off as Astarion tilts the bottle, forcing water down his throat. He sputters, pushing it away from his mouth. “ghk- Gods, alright! I’ll drink!”

“Good boy.” Astarion gives him a pat on the head, before settling down next to him. “After you finish drinking that, go to sleep.”

“Aww, but I wanna talk with youu.”

“We can talk when you remember how to speak without slurring your words.”

“Noo, I wanna talk now!” He whines, leaning into Astarion’s shoulder. “I wanna tell you more about myself, s’only fair after you told me about Cazador..”

“Oh, just go to sleep, you idiot.”

“I will if you let me talk to you!”

Astarion groans, but relents. “Fine, if it gets you to rest.”

“Yaaay!”

Altair thinks for a moment about what to tell Astarion, he did want to share something, after how much Astarion had shared with him. Maybe not about his horrible time as a slave, something more lighthearted- but his life was so horribly depressing. What could he even talk about?

His eyes glance around his tent, before landing on his violin.

Wait- He’s a bard!

“Astarion!” He exclaims, grabbing the elf’s hands. There are stars in his eyes, and Astarion feels like he's in for a long night, and not the kind he likes. “Did I ever tell you about how I became a bard!”

“No?”

“I-” He pauses, looking confused for a moment. “Wait, giive me a second..”

Astarion grins, amused at his antics. As Altair is thinking, he shifts, letting Altair rest his head on his chest. His fingers go to thread through his hair, gently running through the strands.

“Don't tell me you don't remember, love.” He softly laughs, “Did the wine erase your memory too?”

“No! I just need a moment..” He yawns, sinking Astarion’s touch. He always loved when Astarion would comb through his hair like this, he felt like could just drift off. “Just give me a second..”

What in the hells did he say last night?

Altair blearily wakes up, wiping away the sleep from his eyes, finding that his body was sprawled over Astarion’s. His hair is undone from its usual braid, and is instead tangled in Astarion’s hands.

“What..?” He groans as he pushes himself off of Astarion, carefully untangling his hair from his fingers. “Gods, my arms are sore..”

His eyes flit back over to Astarion, who's still sound asleep. He racks his brain for memories of last night, he got drunk, yelled a little, sang, told some shit story about his time in the Underdark.

Oh.

He told him everything. Or- most of it anyway, just the parts about how he was forced to fight other slaves while starving and only found solace in creating and telling stories. A perfect conversation topic, the best way to reveal your fucked up past! Dammit, did he show him his journal too?

A rustle from behind him makes him snap his head back around, tensing up. He doesn't know if he can talk about it now that he's sober.

“Ngh, good morning, Altair.” The vampire sits up, yawning. “Glad to see you sober again.”

“Morning to you too, Astarion.” Altair mumbles, running a gentle hand over Astarion’s head. “I.. how much did I tell you last night?”

“Just bits and pieces, most of it was unintelligible to me.”

“Sorry about last night.”

“What for?”

What does he mean “What for?” for just dumping his trauma all over him, especially when Astarion was trying to get him to bed. Gods, he's not a child, he should be able to take care of himself!

“For making you listen to me,” Altair tries to remember what exactly he revealed, was it the torture? The brutal fights? He had to know how much Astarion knew about her. “I told you about when I was a gladiator, right? and that I was..”

A killer hangover has him hissing in pain, holding his head. His memories are still foggy, and his head can't take the strain of trying to remember. It’d take a good couple hours before his mind was clear enough for him to try.

“You told me that you wanted to be a poet.” Astarion says, putting a hand on Altair’s shoulder. “Don't hurt yourself trying to remember everything, I can just tell you.”

“Alright then, what else did I spill?”

“You waxed poetically for a while about how you took solace in art, about how you shadow wrote some songs and stories for a while. You attempted to show me your journal.”

He pointedly looks at the open journal on the ground, some of its pages scattered on the floor.

“Don't worry, I didn't get to read much of it. You ended up crying as soon as you opened it, and I had to calm you down.”

He pauses, hesitantly continuing. “You.. you cried about how you were living in the Underdark, about being forced to become a gladiator.”

“Oh.” Altair shakily sighs, running a hand through his hair, “What did I tell you exactly..?”

“Mostly about the living conditions,” He replies, “You were crying too much for me to understand, so I ended up just coaxing you to sleep.”

“Well, thank you for taking care of me, sorry for being such a child.”

“You don't have to be sorry, love.” Astarion yawns, getting up from Altair’s bedroll, “You listened to me whine about Cazador, it was only fair I do the same.”

“Still, thank you..” Altair gets up as well, following Astarion out to greet the morning. “..for listening to me, when you didn’t have to.”

They’d been in the Shadowlands for a while now, Shadowheart was still talking about Shar and her protection, and Gale was geeking out about how the curse had affected the land around them. The usual day for their party.

He’d just talked to Raphael, shook hands and made a verbal contract, the whole nine yards. Astarion said he was ready to go and find whatever monster they had to kill, ready to learn more about his infernal scars and about how to stop Cazador. All he was waiting on was Altair’s command.

Altair, on the other hand, was more concerned with how Astarion seemed to be slower. They hadn’t lost any fights yet, but none of his attacks had his usual power behind them. He wasn't fit to be in any fight right now, and Altair knew it.

He pieced together why quickly, as he realized that there weren't many animals here for him to eat, the only ones they’d seen had been taken by the shadow curse. He hadn't offered to let him feed recently either.

Astarion was starving.

“Astarion,” Altair stands in front of his tent, arms crossed, “You haven't fed in a while, have you?”

“Well, there aren't exactly any animals here, and I’d hate to take my chances with the rest of the party.” He sends him a flirtatious look, licking his lips, “Unless you're offering that pretty neck of yours~”

His mouth is watering at the mere mention of feeding from Altair- and he does a poor job of hiding it.

“Astarion, I’m being serious, are you alright? I don't want you starving at tomorrow’s fight.”

“I-” Astarion was starving, but he was planning on sinking his teeth into a rat or something. He'd seen a few in the Gauntlet of Shar, Altair didn't have to do this for him. “Well, if you insist..”

Altair nods, the two heading into Astarion’s tent. He lays down on Astarion’s bedroll, letting the elf unlace part of his top. His dark skin is exposed to the frigid air, and he shivers. Astarion’s hands leave feather light touches on his neck as he brushes away Altair’s hair.

Gods, Astarion was already salivating at the sight of his neck.

Altair lets out a gasp, fangs sinking into his neck. Astarion’s tongue eagerly laps up the blood that spills out, groaning. A week without a proper meal leaves him greedy, and Altair can feel himself getting lightheaded.

He gently pats Astarion’s shoulder, “That's enough. Any more and I’m going to pass out.” Astarion whines, but unhinges himself from Altair’s neck. The drow pushes himself up, padding around for his violin so that he could cast Lesser Restoration on himself. “Astarion, I’m going to grab my violin, I left it in my tent.”

“I’ll grab it for you, just give me a moment to fix your shirt.” He motions for Altair to lean forward a bit, and he starts to lace his shirt back up. “You're in such a hurry, darling. Don't go running off topless in front of the party, I’d get jealous.”

“I don't think you should be the authority on decency, Star.” His breath hitches as Astarion’s cold fingers brush against his collarbone. “I think you’ve been seen in more scandalous positions than I have.”

“Oh, are you implying something, love?” Astarion leans in close to Altair, whispering scandalously as he holds the drow’s gaze, “Do you want to be seen when we have sex?”

He pulls the thread of Altair’s shirt tight, sending a shudder through his body.

“No.” Altair breathily replies, “I.. I like being a sight for your eyes only, Astarion..”

“A pity, I’d love to share this..” He drags a finger up Altair’s neck, “..beautiful body with everyone. But you being all mine doesn't sound too bad either.”

He lightly taps Altair’s nose, cheekily smiling at him.

“Astarion..”

“I’ll go ahead and grab your violin, darling.” He pecks Altair on the forehead. “Try and entertain yourself while I’m gone, why don’t you?”

He smiles to himself as he makes his way to Altair’s tent, the face that he’d made when he left was priceless! His cheeks were positively flushed, all the way up to his ears, he was sure that he looked the same though, his pale skin being warmed by the drow’s blood.

Astarion rummages around, spotting the violin behind his pack, as he moves to grab it, he knocks a journal off of Altair’s desk. He mumbles out a few curses, before leaning down to pick it up. It’s open to a page, written in Elvish.

“...ordered another punishment for the Comet, and he came crying to me! He’s a fool, coming to me for help.”

What?

He knows that Altair would hate him if he read it without his permission, especially if it was full of documentation of his torture. But it irks him a little bit, not knowing the extent of Altair abuse.

All he knew was that he was a slave in the Underdark, and that the house he was in forced him to fight in gladiator matches. He’d only made passing mentions of his living conditions, things like being starved or in constant pain, which he could unfortunately relate to.

Sometimes there was mention of a mysterious woman- Ariadne. She came up the most when they were exploring the Underdark, it confused him, as Altair would go from near panic attacks to describing fond memories when talking about her.

Astarion shuts the journal, his touch lingering a bit on the swirling gold embroidery.

Should he talk to Altair about it?

They were getting close to finding a cure for the tadpole, and Altair seemed set on heading to Baldur’s Gate after investigating Moonrise Towers. He didn’t know how much longer Altair was going to stay with him, they certainly had something going on, but he didn’t know if it was enough for Altair to stay with him.

He wanted Altair to stay with him, even after their journey together.

He just didn’t know how to ask him to stay.

He sighs, figuring that Altair has waited long enough for his violin. He heads back to his tent, trying to sort out his thoughts.

“Found your violin.” He sits down next to Altair, who’s reading one of his books, “Oh, I quite like that story.”

“Really? Wouldn’t peg you as the type to enjoy horror.”

“Well, it’s kind of like a comedy after everything we’ve been through. Helps me laugh at it all.” Astarion hands him his violin, “Does it help you any?”

“A bit, but I’ve been mostly laughing at the bad writing. Let me tell you that gladiator fights are nothing like this!” Altair huffs dramatically, “So much talk about honor, and how they describe the equipment? Incredibly inaccurate.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but how did you escape the Underdark? You don’t have to answer if it’s a sore subject, but you’ve never gone into much detail about it.”

He sighs, recalling the first time that Astarion saw him break down in the Underdark. He was a fool then, trying to pretend like the place didn’t haunt him. Altair holds his violin, gripping his bow a bit too tightly. He should tell Astarion, they were getting close to Baldur’s Gate, and he couldn’t endanger him like that.

“There’s a journal in my tent, it belongs to Ariadne, the person who promised to help me escape. I think I already told you that she betrayed me though. She was cruel, and I wish I could say that I hate her with all of my being, but that’d be a lie.”

He nervously plays with the pegs of his violin, “She was still the first to treat me like I existed, you know? She gave me food, money, and some kind of social interaction. I know that what she did was wrong, and that she was never my friend, but a part of me misses her.”

Astarion looks at him sympathetically, understanding how desperate you get for any kind of interaction when you’re isolated. That time he spent stuck in a coffin comes to mind, being trapped in the dark with only his thoughts, nothing but silence for days on end.

He knows that Altair spent most of his life like that, trapped in a stone cell, only let out to be fed or to fight. Altair was able to create stories, and pretend like all his fights were epic tales, but even he admits that much of his time was spent staring up at a cold, stone ceiling. That, and being beaten for not performing well enough in fights, or whatever fault they found with him.

“I finished reading most of her entries, I assume she lost it before getting to Baldur’s Gate though.” Altair says, “She was in the middle of chasing me out of a tavern before I was kidnapped and put on that mindflayer ship. According to her journal, she’d found out where I worked. I fully expect that she found my house soon after I was kidnapped”

He turns to Astarion with a determined look, “I have to go back, I can’t keep running from her. Not to mention, my father is still there, and I don’t know how long it’ll take before she resorts to using him against me. I need to kill her, to finally be free.”

“And here I thought I would be the only one meeting my old master in Baldur’s Gate,” Astarion jokes, “Good to know we’re both on a mission to get revenge.”

“It’s not revenge- I wouldn’t call it that.”

“Killing the person that ruined your life? I’d say that’s the textbook definition of revenge, darling.”

“It’s not- well, it’s more about me being free.” He explains, looking away from Astarion. He knew that Astarion wouldn’t understand how he felt about Ariadne, it’d be so easy to hate her if all she did was torture him, but she didn’t.

“She- She was still nice to me, you know. She was the very reason I learned that there was more to the world than my cell, and that I still even had a father. Ariadne was my first friend, she was a lot of my firsts, even though she ended up wanting to kill me.”

“That journal I found details some things from my enslavement, and it hurts to read sometimes. It only proves how bad of a person she is, that she hated me from the start.” Tears start to fall from his eyes as he relays his emotions to him.

“It’s tainted all the memories I had with her, every single one that I’d go back to when I trance, wanting to remember the better moments of my life. She hated me the whole time. It was funny to her, how little I knew, how even though I was the better fighter, she was still superior to me.”

“Killing her is going to be my way of getting closure, and reclaiming my life.”

Altair is still crying, crying and bloodless, he remembers. His hands shakily move his violin under his chin, placing the bow on the strings.

“Sorry- The blood loss is starting to get to me- I just have to heal myself”

“I don’t think you’re in playing condition, dear.” Astarion gently lowers Altair’s hands, taking his violin and setting it down behind him. “I think you’re in need of a good night’s rest, Shadowheart can take care of it in the morning.”

Altair nods, but looks at Astarion warily.

Why wasn’t he saying anything? No disgust at not hating his torturer? He would understand if Astarion was confused, angry, even. Was he really just going to help him fight some unknown danger?

If there was one thing he learned while in the Underdark- from her, it was that love meant nothing. He loved people, cared for them, only to be hurt. It was always finite, his relationships never lasted, despite the effort he put in, why would this one be different?

He’d help Astarion get rid of the tadpole in their heads, and then help him kill Cazador.

After that, he’d be on his own.

Right?

“Why are you giving me that look?”

“You’re really going to help me?”

“No? You have no obligation to help me, you don’t get anything out of it.” Altair has an incredulous look on his face, “You- What do you get out of helping me? My loyalty? Unless I’ve misread something, no one here has to help me- I don’t expect any of you to help me!”

Astarion is a little angry, was he stupid? What did he mean he didn’t expect help? Was he truly that blind to how much he cared for him, to how much everyone cared for him. Did he simply think that the people here wouldn’t fight for him the way he fought for them?

“We- I care about you as much as you care about me. You’ve done so much for the party- for me, and you just expect me to let you charge into a fight alone?”

“Yes? People don’t- they don’t just help for no reason, Astarion!” He stammers out, Ariadne had drilled that idea into his head. She only reinforced it when she betrayed him, and even more so through her journal entries.

“I don't expect help from anyone! I didn’t see why you would be different, even if you said you cared for me. I thought that you were only playing along with my antics, using ‘love’ to get a free night of sex, or someone willing to protect you!”

That comment hurt Astarion. Altair was right, he was the one who’d emotionally manipulated him into a relationship, being nice to gain something. But he’d changed, he started genuinely caring for him. He tried showing him that he cared.

The nights he spent comforting him, listening to him talk about his past? The silly banter they’d have while Altair was healing him? How he constantly- constantly threw himself into danger to protect him? Did that mean nothing to him? Did Altair only see that as repayment for his affection?

Altair still sits there, confused. He wasn’t wrong, he thinks. All his life has been a game of giving. He cares about people, gives them his trust, his words of love and soft kisses, keeps that person happy, until they abandon him.

They leave, and he pretends like all those emotions weren’t real, that nothing happened, he uses the feelings in a ballad or story, and tries to forget. Wash, rinse, repeat. He’s lived like that for 215 years, and he hasn’t had anyone try to break that cycle or tell him he was wrong. It was just life, after all.

“Did everything we do mean nothing to you? Was it all just you playing along to entertain me?”

“No! Gods, No. I care about you Astarion, I do!”

“Then why do you act like everything I’ve done for you means nothing?! Do you think I don’t care about you too, Altair?”

“I..” He holds his tongue, he truly didn’t think Astarion loved him. He didn't think anyone truly cared about him. He’d been alone this long, after all. Why would Astarion be any different than his past relationships?

He’d done the same for all of them, listening to their past, helping them through rough patches. Altair had done everything by the book, he revealed bits of himself to them, but always- always, they'd leave him.

No one wanted to stay after learning that he wasn't a charismatic bard, they didn't want to risk being killed because of his past. Sometimes they were disgusted with what he did as a gladiator. But he’d always understood, why would anyone want to try and bear the weight of his past with him?

His silence is all the answer that Astarion needs to hear, and the vampire frustratedly grabs his hands, moving closer to him.

“I’d follow you to the ends of Faerun, and help you fight whatever horrible monster from your past shows up.” He states firmly, holding Altair’s gaze. “I’d do this because I know you’d do the same for me, no matter how scared you are- I love you, Altair, even if you don’t believe it yourself.”

“I-” Altair looks back at him, fear behind his eyes, “I want to believe you, I do. But I can’t, I don’t know what to do if you just love me, what do I do in return?”

His mind is spinning, relationships never worked like that. It was always give and take and give and take-

He wasn’t worthy of a relationship, a real relationship, he had to compensate for all his flaws. He had to, or that person would leave him.

Just like how Ariadne did.

She would leave him alone in his cell for days on end, sometimes years, if he offended her enough.

Darkvision doesn’t help much when the walls are the same color, and his mind could only entertain itself for so long before it began to spiral. He was never enough, he had to always make up for it. It was the only way he wouldn’t end up alone, stuck in a stone cell.

“You don’t have to do anything.” Astarion softly smiles at him, “You just have to accept it. I’m loving you with no strings attached, dear.”

Was it really that simple?

“Is that really it? I just accept that you love me? Even though it’s..” Altair trails off, vaguely motioning to himself.

“What, like loving you is hard?” He pressed a kiss to the palm of Altair’s hand, cradling it against his cheek, his red eyes looking up at him through his lashes, “Loving you is easy, you just have to accept it."

“..oh.”

It was that simple.

White-hot pain flares up from Astarion’s back, and he feels warm blood dripping down his arms.

It’s him.

A choked sob rings through the halls, as Cazador’s laugh rubs salt in his wound. Tears mix with blood as he white knuckles the carpet below him. Why was he back here? Where did everyone go?

“Did you really think you could escape?” Astarion’s head is forced up, clawed hands digging into his cheeks. “Foolish boy, you know I can find you anywhere. The audacity to even try and run!”

He roughly lets go of his face, moving to a table that he can only assume is lined with tools. Cazador hums as he traces his hands over every single one, and he starts to prattle on about how he’s going to use them on Astarion.

His mind races as he tries to rationalize everything, he's not here, he's at camp, in his tent. His breath hitches when he catches a glimpse of a familiar half-drow.

No.

Altair lays limply on the ground, chained to the wall. He turns to Astarion, and his stomach turns-

His eyes are red.

“Altair!”

“This is your fault.” Altair’s head lifts up, gaze boring through him. His voice is hoarse, and Astarion can see pointed fangs just past his lips as he opens his mouth “I should've never trusted you.”

Altair sits comfortably outside Astarion’s tent, hands idly plucking a tune on his violin. They were camped outside of Rivington, only a night away from getting into Baldur’s Gate.

“Let him go! Stop!” He turns to Astarion, who’s writhing in his bedroll, tears falling from his closed eyes. “Please..”

“Astarion!” Altair throws his violin to the ground, rushing to his side. Astarion’s having a dream, a kind that Altair is all too familiar with. “You're safe, wake up, come on..”

His voice is soft as he gently shakes Astarion’s shoulder. “Cazador isn't here, you're having a nightmare. Please wake up..”

As if listening to Altair’s pleas, Astarion’s eyes snap open, nails digging into his wrist. Frenzied, red eyes meet his, and he loosens his grip as he realizes what happened.

“Shit- I’m sorry.”

“It's fine. Are..” He wants to ask if he's alright, but he knows the answer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Astarion stares at him in response, hand still holding onto the drow’s wrist. He was safe, Altair was safe, Cazador isn't here.

“I had a bad dream.” He laughs, ‘bad dream’ would be an understatement, “It was about Cazador. He had you, and you were- you were turned. Gods, I hate this, we're literally on our way to kill him, and he's still tormenting me!"

“They have a way of doing that to you.” Altair rests his hand atop Astarion’s. “Our torturers, I mean. We can never really forget, but we can kill them.”

“Ha, that we can.” Astarion thinks it’s unfair, that he has to live with the memories of torture, with scars that will never fade. All while Cazador gets to die, and never suffers the same way he did. “Funny how that works out, two ex-slaves going to Baldur’s Gate to kill their enslavers.”

“Sounds like great material for a story.” Altair hums, “Maybe I’ll write a little song about us, ‘Astarion and Altair: Free Elves’ has a nice ring to it.”

Astarion groans, laughing. “Gods, no. Don't tell me you're going to be singing that at taverns, Altair.”

“I would never!” He replies dramatically, gasping in mock surprise. “That'll be one of my personal songs, for my ears only!”

“Oh please, I should have some right to hear it, my name is in the title!” Astarion scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Besides, I’ve already seen your whole journal. I assume I’ve seen all of your ‘private’ songs.”

“You've only seen the most recent one. There’s more at my home.” He sighs wistfully, “I’m excited to finally sleep in my bed again, provided Ariadne left the place intact.”

“Personally, I’m excited to finally take consistent baths. I’m tired of smelling like shit all the time.”

They sit in a comfortable silence as their laughter dies down, Altair looks back up at Astarion. Concern still hangs in his mind, “Are you feeling better now?”

“I am.” Astarion sighs, wiping an exasperated hand down his face, “Cazador will know I’m back, and my brothers and sisters will probably be everywhere trying to look for us.”

The worst part about all of it was that he was still scared. Countless ‘what ifs’ run through his head. What if they failed, and he died? What would happen to Altair and the others? They’d gotten a place in his heart, even though he’d never care to admit it, he didn't even want Cazador touching them!

“After we kill Cazador, and the Absolute..” Altair’s voice snaps Astarion out of his thoughts, “We should settle down, you could move in with me, and maybe I could help you find a job.”

“Hm, that sounds dreadfully boring.”

“I think boring is what I need if we succeed in taking down a cult.” Altair laughs. “Besides, it wouldn’t be too bad. I’m confined to the dark as much as you are, I’m practically blind during the day. Stupid tadpole lets me enjoy the day without sun sensitivity setting my eyes ablaze.”

“I wasn't aware that you had light sensitivity.” He knew that drow had a hard time seeing in sunlight, but chalked up Altair’s resistance to him only being half-drow.

“Mm, it was pretty bad. Pretty sure the tadpole made me immune, like you. I’m going to miss not having my eyes fried to a crisp whenever I open my curtains.”

“Oh, but you’ll have me.” Astarion pulls Altair into his bedroll, and pins the drow beneath him. “And I still look just as ravishing in the dark, darling~”

“I-'' A blush graces Altair’s face, and he lightly hits Astarion’s chest, laughing. “Gods, what am I going to do with you?”

“Oh, I’d love to know what you’d do with me,” Astarion teases, earning a groan from Altair, “Or what I’d do to you.”

“Well, I’d love for you..” Altair puts a hand on Astarion’s chest, “..to shut up and let me sleep.”

“I’d love to sleep in your bed, darling. Or in any bed really, but having a handsome drow next to me would be a great incentive to sleep in yours.”

“Gods, no!” He stammers out, “My room is a mess, you’d have to wait outside with the rest of the party while I try and clean whatever is left of my house.”

“Where is your house?” Astarion questions, “I’m sure you aren't living in luxury, but I know you didn't live in the sewers or anything.”

“It's in the lower city, near the Blushing Mermaid. I play a lot of my gigs there, even though the patrons are drunk out of their minds and could care less. Started a lot of bar fights, too.”

“200 years and some things never change.” He sighs wistfully, recalling the years he spent there drinking his misery away, “Though, you were quite sloppy with your kills there.”

“What?” Altair’s eyes widen in shock as Astarion lays down next to him, an amused smile on his lips. “I never told you I was a contract killer!”

“You didn't.”

“What did you see me doing?” Sure, he took a few jobs killing people in Baldur’s Gate, and sure- he wasn't the sneakiest, but for Astarion to have caught him? He was worse at his job than he thought.

“I smelled some blood in an alleyway, and lo and behold-” He makes a dramatic gesture with his hands, motioning to Altair, “There you were, dragging away a body!”

“This is so embarrassing..”

“Oh, but don't worry, no one else saw!”

“But you did! And I was only a hitman for like 20 years!” Altair only became a contract killer because he didn't have many other skills when coming to Baldur’s Gate. Not his proudest moment, he admits, but he did a lot of odd jobs while trying to keep himself afloat, killing people just happened to be one of them.

“Makes me glad that you rejected me back then, otherwise I might've been killed by you.”

“I would never.” Altair scoffs, “Killing someone as pretty as you would be a crime!”

“Exactly!”

Astarion laughs along with Altair, but his mind wanders.

They could've killed each other 200 years ago. He knows that some people had caught onto his vampirism, and that Altair very well could've taken a job to kill him.

Conversely, he could've seduced Altair, and brought him to Cazador; he had tried and failed, after all. He thinks about that possibility, if Altair hadn't refused him so harshly, he would’ve been another victim. If Altair was a mercenary for longer, he could’ve killed him.

He grimaces at the thought.

“Well, hopefully we get a few years of peace after this whole cult fiasco. But knowing you and your bleeding heart, we’d be off on another adventure right after ending a cult!”

“I’d like to spend at least a few decades with you before we're whisked away, maybe get married or something.” Altair chuckles, but his head snaps over to Astarion when he realizes what he said. “I mean- only if you want to..?”

“Well, why not?” Astarion brushes a hand across the half-drow’s cheek, cracking a small smile at his flustered face. “There isn't anyone else I’d like to spend my eternal life with.”

“Oh.” He’s laughing, tears in the corners of his eyes, “Gods, this isn't how I wanted my proposal to go.”

He wipes at his tears, face flushed. “I was going to serenade you, and give you a ring and everything! It was going to be beautiful.”

“For a bard, you aren't very good at keeping your composure.”

“I swear I’m better on stage!”

Astarion laughs, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, “Sure, darling.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x male oc #astarion fluff #bg3 tav #bg3 #astarion x tav #writing #oc x canon #oc #oc writing #oc whump

16 notes · View notes

fandomanimatic-tournament · 1 year

Text

Fandom song animatic tournament: Bracket 1 Side B

Saint Bernard - Lincoln

"Hung pictures of patron saints up on my wall To remind me that I am a fool Tell me where I came from, what I will always be Just a spoiled little kid who went to Catholic school"

Line Without a Hook - Ricky Montgomery

"Baby, I am a wreck when I'm without you I need you here to stay I broke all my bones that day I found you Crying at the lake Was it something I said to make you feel like you're a burden, oh And if I could take it all back I swear that I would pull you from the tide"

Remember that we're voting on how Iconic they are for ANIMATICS, not for the song itself. In order to make things fair, the tone and mood of the song should not affect how iconic it is (for example, a serious song should not be considered more iconic than a joke song just because it's serious)

Propaganda and animatic links of the songs under the cut:

Saint Bernard - Lincoln

Propaganda:

Its got that sick clapping for smooth frame changes, and it's got all the applications babeyy. Low self esteem hero? Sure! Sympathetic villain? You got it! Morally grey character? Come on in. "Make me love myself so that i might love you" can be about god, friends, a partner, a found family, you name it. "Dont make me a liar cause i swear to god when i said it i thought it was true" can be about anything. Your best friend is evil now? A betrayal?? A disillusioned hero??? "Neither of us will be missed" girlies i am peeing from how good this song is for angst.

"the st. bernard sits at the TOP OF THE DRIVE WAY" makes for a very cool and sexy shot transition. you seen the beau lionett animatic set to this?

tik tok picked up the audio a bit cause the drop into distortion is great, but also the vocals and imagery as they stand are excellent. there's at least four ace attorney ones alone and they all focus on different characters (Blackquill/Sahdmadhi, Klavier, van Zieks, and Edgeworth) and the van Zieks one was posted shortly before the official localization was released. also idk if it's on youtube but there's also one for bass.exe on tumblr which is also excellent

Animatics with the song:

Omori

Five Nights at Freddy's Michael Afton Animatic

3rd Life Impulse Animatic

DSMP Revivebur Animatic

The Owl House

Line Without a Hook - Ricky Montgomery

Propaganda:

This is song genuinely feels me with such raw and powerful emotion; I know it's kind of annoying to say a song "makes you feral", but. this song genuinely makes me feel feral. Pairing up a song that already makes me pretty emotional with ships/blorbos that already make me emotional is such a good mix that leaves me crying on my bedroom floor

Animatics with the song:

Ace Attorney

BNHA Kiribaku Animatic

Omori Hero x Mari Animatic

Adventure Time Bubbline Animatic

The Owl House Lumity

Please be cautious and read the title, description and warning cards on the animatic videos if you decide to watch them. If you've got specific triggers I'd recommend even more caution when watching animatics of fandoms you don't know, since sometimes canon-typical themes don't get warnings.

Please keep in mind that I don't know all the media and fandoms of the animatics provided as examples and I don't have the time (nor the will) to research them all. Don't come into my notes or my ask box complaining about them being included, I will simply block you. If a ship animatic included is about an adult and a minor, do tell me and I'll take it out of the post

ALSO keep in mind that I don't know all the artists submitted; in fact, even if I do know them I do not know absolutely nothing about them as people (I do not have twitter nor tiktok) and I could not POSSIBLY have the time to research ALL of the artists' controversies and what came of them so PLEASE don't flood my inbox with the artists' entire crime list.

#fandom animatic tournament #tumblr poll #tumblr tournament #tumblr tourney

24 notes · View notes

unhingedlesbear · 10 months

Text

Fuckin Markate moments that make me go 🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤲🤌🤲🤲🤌🙏🙏🙏🙏🤌🤌🙏💀🤌🤌🤌💀💀🙏🤌🤌🤌😭🤌😭🤌😭😭😭🤌

Literally going to sit here and overanalyse every little fucking Markate interaction DONT mind me. This is fully me going insane over markate for no fucking reason.

-Bridge scene

Oh my GODDD THIS SCEEEENEEEE assuming you pick the empathetic option it’s just sooo sweet. The way u can tell she’s used to helping him with these situations because of how non judgemental and supportive she is, she knows it’s not actually fine when he says it is, and she keeps a lighthearted energy to her the whole time even though they recently broke up. And then when he thanks her and basically confirms that she’s helped him through moments like that before just agrgrhrhhrhrhrhrh fuckkk they’re so 🤲🤲🤲

-Scouting

There are some CUTE fucking interactions in this chapter between them. The little “you trying to butter me up?” Interaction is so sillyyyyy so silly of them and she calls him a fucking camera dork😭😭😭🤌🤌🤌 and they’re laughing and smiling and shit even tho they were just discussing their breakup moments before oghhhh my god☹️☹️🫡🫡🫡. And the fucking “my arms are not short 😠😠” AHEGEGHRR😭😭😭😭🤌🤌✨✨✨��✨FUCKING CUTE!!! And then there’s the end of the chapter when they get spooked by the lil animatronic and you got the silly little “it scared YOU” “it scared you TWICE” they’re so dumbbb they’re so goofy and sillyyyy why do they 😭😭😭😭👍👍👍👍

-Dinner

Not many Markate moments here but STILL this is MY unhinged Markate ramble post and good god am I gonna fuckin RAMBLE! Anyway I want to bring up Mark’s speech and the fact that he calls Kate his best friend and she looks at him like 😯🙄🙂 just 😭🤌 and then there’s Jamie’s line about Mark following Kate around like a lost dog and just yeah. That is the dynamic isn’t it😭

-Mannequins

MUEHAHAHAHHA THE FUCKING SCENE WHERE THEY HIDE TOGETHER AND KATE LIKE USES MARK AS A HIDING SPOT AND SHE FUCKING BACKS INTO HIM LIKE A JIGSAW PUZZLE PIECE IM RAGAHAHAHHA👹👹👹👹👹

-Ignition

First off in curators cut just the fact that Kate gets worried about Mark when the fire is closing in on him☹️☹️😭🙏🙏🤌🤌🤌 and she pulls him out of it even though it kinda looks like she also gets a bit singed by it??? YOU GUYS ARE FUCKING STUPID❤️❤️❤️❤️ then we have THE MARKATE HUG!! I FUCKING LOVE THIS HUG SO MUCH!!! ITS THE WAY HE JUST FALLS INTO HER SHOULDER AND ITS THE TINY LIL BACK RUB AND ALSO THE WAY SHE HAS TO STAND ON HER TOES TO REACH UP RIGHT IM FROTHING AT THE MOUTHHHHHHHH

-Spa

Again there’s not much here I KNOW but there’s still some things and so I must point them out. The fact that Mark just got dropped through the fucking floor and his first thought is “KATE😨😨⁉️⁉️” and then LATER WHEN THEY REUNITE AND HE GREETS HER AND THEY’RE HAPPY TO SEE EACH OTHER WHAT IF I TORE SOMEONES FLESH FROM THEIR BONES

-Breathless

HOOO BOY!!! FUCK! THIS IS ONE OF THOSE MARKATE SCENES THAT I FEEL IN MY SOUUUUL!!! THE WAY HE’S SO WORRIED ABOUT HER THE WHOLE TIME AND ALSO THE WAY HE’S SO QUICK TO BREAK HER OUT THE MOMENT HE REALIZES HE CANNN AND THE WAY HE JUST KEEPS SMASHING THE WINDOW WITH HIS ELBOW LIKE I K N O W THAT HURTS BUT HE DONT GAF KATE IS DYINNNGGGG!!! And then afterwards the way he carries her out and he’s like “I got you😰” and he looks so worried about her and then he helps her up aftwards IM FUCKING ASCENDINGGGG LOVEIS REAL!!!!🗣🗣🗣🗣

-Plan

Ah yes. The last true Markate scene for fucking AGES🗣🗣but I would like to still point out the way Kate runs back after she sees him fall down the trapdoor like 🥺🥺

-Directors suite

No actual markate scenes but Kate is clearly worried abt him in this whole chapter. Like the first thing she asks Jamie is if she’s seen Mark, and then if she hasn’t she looks all worried and shit and if Jamie has seen him she’s like “I was worried sick about him🥹” WHAT IF I WENT ON ALL FOURS????? And later when they’re looking at what Du’met has been writing about them Kate ofc points out where Mark was last seen, later she’s got her whole “I want to find Mark😠not okay Du’met’s game🥱” like oh my godddd girl u too worried! I’m gonna go insane!

-Lighthouse

FUCK! CANNOT DEAL WITH THE SCENES WHERE ERIN TELLS MARK KATE IS DEAD ITS SO SAD. THE WAY ERIN/CHARLIE WILL TRY AND COMFORT HIM BUT HE JUST STEPS BACK AND HES IN DENIAL AND HE CANNOTTT RN!! NEITHER CAN I BRO I FEEL U😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

-Reunion

AH YES THE MARKATE REUNION AFTER MANY CHAPTERS APART!!! It’s the way that she looks so concerned when she sees that he’s been hurt and she doesn’t even look around or nothing she just immediately pulls him into a hug and hits us with the “I thought I lost you” like FUCKKK GET A ROOOM‼️‼️‼️ and in the case that the crew confront Du’met it’s the way Mark is holding Kate’s arm the whole time😭😭 and the way he makes sure she gets out the door before he does PLEASAASSSEEEE🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡

And let me not even talk about the ultimatum versions of this chapter like… the way if she cuts him free he kinda clings to her a bit as they run off like MY GODDDD🗣🗣and then from his perspective he’s literally just been beat up and thrown in a closet with his hands tied and once again his first thought is “KATE😨⁉️⁉️” I FUCKING LOOVE THEM AND THEN OGHHH IF THEY GET CAPTURED ITS THE WAY MARK TRIES TO CRAWL OVER ACTING TOUGH LIKE HE CAN STILL PROTECT HER BRO UR DONE IM SORRY‼️‼️‼️BUT A FOR EFFORT UR DEDICATION IS SWEET AF

-Lake

OGHHHH LAKE see it’s the way Kate gets that fucking choice to save him or leave him DIRECTLY mirroring her trauma about Shelby like OGHHHH FUCK!!! And then there’s the way that assuming you choose to try and help him she does literally all she can to get Du’met off him even though she knows she’s physically weaker and just GRRRRR and FUCK! IF HE DIES! FUCKING SAD! THE WAY HE CAN REACH OUT TO HER AND SHE REACHES BACK AND THE FUCKING SADNESS IN HER VOICE WHEN SHES LIKE “No… no please..” WHAT IF I KILLED MYSELF???????

AND AT THE END! THE WAY RHAT IF EITHER OF THEM DIED THE OTHER WILL SIT THERE DEPRESSED I WANT TO SCREECH!!!!!!!!

-Ultimatum.

No. I cant talk about this right now. Tune in later.

#the devil in me #mark nestor #kate wilder #Markate #unhinged posting

12 notes · View notes

mslanna · 10 months

Note

Nooo it's completely fine if you dont write things you don't like or simply don't want im sorry I didn't want to come of as rude or pressuring

But since its ok to share ideas with you how about this:

You know the night where mizora comes to punish wyll and tav decides to just attack her because they care too much for their companions. And I'd guess that mizora is quiet powerful since she's a devil so before mizora strikes tav down, raphael just pops up and protects tav by letting mizora punish wyll and holding tav down so that they don't get hurt by mizora.

I'd actually like it more if raphael just destroys the contract and kills mizora but since he himself is a devil and he doesn't have the crown yet he has to hold back. That's why tav is so mad at him that he promises her that he will make her pay and then he hugs tav and reassurs them that he'll take care of it and perhaps tavs so frustrated of the fact that raphael just held them down so that at first their too angry with him to talk

Sjskskksiaja sorry for dumping this idea on you and I hope it's understandable since English isn't my first language haha

Have a nice day 🌻

I think I mangled the promt somewhat, @shyminnie07 . here's hoping you still like it. 😅

Paying Forward on AO3

When Mizora comes to punish Wyll for letting Karlach live, Tav intervenes. It doesn't go well and they need (and get) a little help from another cambion…

Camp was quiet and Tav watched the fire burn down. They forced their thoughts to follow suit, slowing and mellowing. The last days had been a whirlwind with nary a moment to breathe. Now, with their new friends retreating for the night, the evening stilled and a cool wind brushed over Tav's burning mind soothingly.

They tried not to think about what lay ahead. Tomorrow came anyway. Better to make use of the break while they could. The moment felt like a drop of quiet sandwiched in between two maelstroms.

"Oh no." Wyll's voice came from across camp. "She's coming."

His worried tone urged Tav into action. They grabbed their gear and hurried towards their companion. "Who is coming?" They snapped the last bits of armour into place. "What is happening?"

"My patron," Wyll replied and took hold of Tav's arm. "She won't be happy we spared Karlach."

"She can't have her." Tav's grip tightened around their war hammer. "Or you. She'll have to go through me."

"She's a devil, Tav! Don't get yourself killed on my behalf."

Tav didn't say that getting killed in the line of duty sounded pretty sweet. They'd have done their part and died blameless. Compared to the mess of life, it didn't sound like a bad deal. But before Tav managed to say something stupid, the oily blackness announcing hellfire pooled on the ground before them. Fire shot up and revealed the shapely form of a female devil. Uh oh.

Don't get distracted! Tav told themself to a little avail. The devil knew she was gorgeous and accented all her best features accordingly. Not getting distracted was a quest unto itself and one Tav felt themself losing.

"Wyll," the devil purred in a tone Tav felt not only in their bones. "You've been naughty. And you know what happens when you're naughty."

"And who the fuck are you?" Tav asked just before remembering Wyll said the devil was his patron. Well, patron wasn't a name.

"Call me Mizora," she answered, the disdain for Tav's crude choice of words audible. "I'm Wyll's patron, the fount of his power. My pet's been unruly. And his leash needs a yank."

The devil stretched out a hand, pulled at the air and Wyll stumbled forward as if an actual leash held him around his neck.

"Leave him be!" Tav stepped between the two and felt the invisible leash cut through their chest.

"Wyll and I had a deal." Mizora scanned Tav dismissively. "But Karlach is still breathing."

"You told me devil's only," Wyll spoke up. "She's a tiefling. Not a monster."

"How precious." The devil was unimpressed. "The little pupster's found its bark. Clause G, Section Nine: 'Targets shall be limited to the infernal, the demonic, the heartless and the soulless.' Karlach meets the criteria, pet. Trust me on this."

"I said, leave him alone," Tav repeated and readied their weapon.

"He broke his contract. I am not at fault here."

"Your wording is vague." Tav held their position. "You could have been lenient, but chose not to. I take offence to that."

"And what do you plan to do?" Cold, calculating eyes settled on Tav.

"Wyll won't have to worry about his contract if there is no devil he's beholden to."

"Don't be a fool. What do you think will happen to his powers?" Mizora laughed.

"Wyll is more than his powers," Tav spat. "And he can find a new patron should he want one."

"After you attacked me for not liking the terms of his current contract?" The devil scoffed. "I think not."

But Tav thought back to the devil they met, almost eager to to excite them into a deal. And from the corner of their eye, the paladin spotted the small shadow of Raphael's warlock lurking in the night just outside the camp again. He had his eyes on them. He was an option. Tav shifted their weight back, weighing the war hammer in their hands.

"Tav!" Wyll cautioned, but to no avail.

"Get out of my camp." Tav raised their war hammer. "Now!"

When Mizora failed to leave, the paladin surged forwards and the head of their heavy war hammer connected hard with the devil's soft waist. It was a shame to maul such an exquisite body, but nobody messed with Tav's new friends. Only friends. New friends. Nobody!

Mizora staggered and Tav struck again, cutting across her legs at knee height. A nauseating crunch echoed through the camp. But whatever Tav hit didn't slow Mizora down the least. The devil came at them with incredible speed and a slap of energy stopped Tav in their tracks. Mizora's hand came down and though Tav ducked a way, one of the nails left a long red line down their face.

That couldn't stop them. Tav realigned to their target but Mizora wasn't there any longer. Tav blinked and readjusted their grip on their weapon. A glance at Wyll and Karlach ascertained the devil wasn't bothering them. Despite everything, Tav hoped they scared her away.

But no such luck. After a minute, Mizora returned, looking no worse for wear. "Are you really going to do this?"

Tav didn't bother with an answer and threw themself at the devil again. Just before their hammer connected to infernal flesh, Mizora vanished again. Something whacked Tav on the back of their head and sent them stumbling to the ground. The paladin picked themself up once more, looking for the elusive devil.

As before, Mizora appeared again momentarily. This went on for a while and Tav grew tired and annoyed. Every time Mizora vanished, she added injury to insult, slowly grinding Tav down.

If she had stayed vanished, Tav would have relented, but Mizora kept popping back, ogling Wyll who tried without success to talk Tav down. Not that a little bleeding, scrapes and bruises could top them. Tav was determined to protect their friends.

"Do stop," Mizora sighed after appearing to Tav still leaning heavily on their weapon. Dusts and dirt coated the human's hair and armour. It mixed with blood on their skin. "You cannot win this fight and I am losing interest."

"I will stop when you stay away," Tav ground out. "Leave my friends alone."

"Such misplaced loyalty. An admirable trait, no doubt. But I do not have time for this." Mizora pointed at Tav and laid a full fire ray on them.

Tav stumbled under the onslaught. Most of the heat bounced off the armour but the metal turned uncomfortably hot. They almost dropped their hammer as they pressed on to reach the devil. Mizora languidly repeated her attack. This time, it sent the human sprawling.

Though Tav again deflected most of the fire ray, their shoulder bristled with the heat and their face was singed. They stumbled and got mowed down by a ferocious sweep from the devil. Tav's skin blistered and broke as they skittered over the rough ground. They spat out dirt and blood before propping themself up, ready to return to the fight whatever the cost.

But somebody stepped between them and their target, towering and with wings that obscure Tav's sight. Unthinking, Tav clawed at the newcomer with a low growl.

"Now, now. None of that," came a familiar voice. Tav looked up and found Raphael's black-hole gaze levelled onto them. "Where are you manners?"

"She came into my camp and wants to hurt my friends." Tav struggled to stand. "Over my dead body."

"Yes," Raphael drew the word out into a complete lecture. "Unfortunately, you body is still needed alive."

His arm snapped out before the Tav when the paladin made for Mizora again. They crashed into it, surprised by its unyielding strength.

"How good to see somebody with actual decorum in this – derelict place." Mizora put herself back into order with a curt gesture. "This was all rather tedious."

"I won't let her hurt Wyll," Tav insisted.

"And who are you to decide that?" The devil spread her wings in a subtle threat.

"We can certainly find a solution that involves a minimum of bloodshed," Raphael intervened.

"If it is her blood, maximum is also acceptable," Tav hissed.

Raphael wrapped a wing around the angry human, trapping them in place. "Come, little mouse, calm down. We can settle this like civilised people."

The devils exchanged looks over Tav's head.

"Of course," Mizora agreed with a greedy glint in her eyes. "Wyll, today is your lucky day. Come here pet."

Wyll approached warily until he stood before his patron.

"You know I can't let this slip. But luck intervened on your behalf to let you off lightly." She gestured along her client's body who winced as if a large hand had suddenly taken hold of himand squeezed tightly. Horns sprouted from his head accompanied with the prominent ridges of devils.

"There we are." Mizora turned to Tav. "No pain, just punishment."

Wyll patted down his now features, shock etched over his face. "What have you done?"

"A promise broken, a Price paid. You know the terms," Mizora replied carelessly. "Get used to the new form, pet – there's no going back. Some magic, even I can't undo. Oh, and Wyll? Don't forget. Our pact still stands."

With that she turned to Raphael. "It has been so good to see you again." Each word dripped insincerity. "Until later." Mizora vanished in another flash of hellfire.

Tav peeled out of Raphael's hold and turned to the remaining devil. "What was that?"

"Just a timely intervention, little mouse. I do hate to lose a future client."

"I am not making any deals with you." Tav took a step away.

"Perhaps." The devil shrugged, wings following the motion of his shoulders. "But for now you owe me." With a snap of his fingers, Raphael transported them to the House of Hope. "Now let us discuss the terms of my timely intervention."

"I owe you nothing!" Tav spat.

"You'd be dead without me now."

"Maybe I'd rather be!"

"That can be arranged." Raphael's had closed around Tav's upper arm like a vice and he dragged them deeper into the House. "Maybe a small taste of death will help you appreciate what I just did for you." He bared his teeth as he spoke.

Tav followed because letting the devil drag them was even less dignified. Still they had to scramble to keep up. The devil wasn't in a magnanimous mood any longer.

"You'd have accepted the debt from any of your companions," he hissed. "Time to understand that it applies to me as well. "

"My companions aren't after my soul," Tav countered.

"Is that your worry?" Raphael stopped and Tav ran into him face-first. Black and gold eyes looked down at them as the devil curled his hands around their shoulders. "That I will take your soul?"

"What else could you want?" Tav did their best not to lose themself in the roiling coronas burning over them. The smell of smoke and cherries didn't help.

"Oh, my little pet, there are so many things I want that you can't even begin to fathom." He smiled dangerously. "Of course there are only so many you can grant."

Raphael slipped a finger under Tav's chin and regarded their face for a while. "What is equivalent to the worth of your life?" When Tav didn't answer, he continued: "maybe your own words will have the best result here. No one life is worth more than any other. A flawed assessment, all things considered, but for now it will do."

He leant down and Tav braced for belittling or insult as his breath raked over their skin hot enough to singe Tav's heart. "So this is my proposition, mousling. Your life for mine. A simple deal and easy to fulfil. If you ever find yourself in a position where you are about to take my life, you will not. If you see my life in danger, you will intervene as I did for you."

Tav bit their lip looking for the trap. It had to be one, coming form a devil, especially since it felt innocent enough. But after today they'd go on with their life. They knew where Halsin was and he'd resolve their tadpole problem. They'd never see Raphael again. A relief, that made their heart stutter.

How many devils had they met before this? None. So that was a good prognosis of how many they'd see once rid off their tadpole. Tav regarded the devil towering over them, black eyes, hot breath, sulphur and cherries and all. Once they were back, once they found Halsin, he was a thing of the past.

Speaking over their racing heart Tav held out their hand. "Deal."

"A deal indeed." Raphael gripped their hand with his, never taking his eyes of Tav. His fingers slipped far enough around to dig their sharp tips into Tav's soft flesh. "Now, back and to bed with you. You will need your wits about you in the journey to come."

Before Tav could reply, they found themself back at camp. Their new friends were relieved to welcome them back though worry spread when it became clear that Tav couldn't speak about the nature of the deal they made.

It took a wile for Tav to calm everybody down. They'd never make a deal for their soul and they had not. This much they could say. Whatever transpired was secret but harmless. In the end, Tav crawled into their bedroll slightly confused but feeling overall safe and appreciated.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #mizora bg3 #bg3 tav #shyminnie07 #bg3 fanfiction #mel writes fanfic #one shot

12 notes · View notes

mokadevs · 1 year

Text

Recently finished fgo’s olympus so here are some bleary unorganized thoughts on it and my frustrations before i drift off to sleep

i think my biggest problem with olympus is that it over promises.

I think that the set up is amazing. Not referring to atlantis, though atlantis was great as everyone and their mother has said, but the whole sequence of a) entering olympus and b) exploring olympus is incredible. I think its one of the peak examples of fgo constantly being able to make you feel like their are Actual stakes in the narrative despite you as a player knowing that the tree will inevitably be cut and you’ll see the cosmos denied screen flash by again. Running through the city

Hell, Demeter’s entire entrance was bone chilling. I think she has the best mech design of the olympus gods in my biased opinion, and seeing her drop down before the animated screech she lets out that destroys the city was incredible. Truly the first time i saw it i went Holy Shit.

Then… i wont say the lostbelt flops after that but there were a few key areas that it left me wanting.

Personal preference out of the way, ill say the constant deus ex machinas - whether it be for the good guys or the bad guys (if the bad guy has a deus ex machina, is it called that?? Anyway) - started to get a little irritating after a while. The stakes were so, so high at the start, and demeters victory felt so barely clawed for with so many bits and pieces coming together that certain other fights felt like. “Well, okay then.” The twins revealing caligula and then saying “we didnt wanna say we had him for dramatic effect!” was really eye roll worthy, for example, and to be honest i dont really understand how we were able to shmoove our way out of aphrodites mind control hellscape, which was annoying after again i loved demeters fight So much

ill note there that these are things that didnt work for ME, in MY OPINION im sure other people feel other ways about it and i am happy for them for it :]

I think that parts of the lostbelt felt… rushed, and i didnt feel like the power scaling of chaldea matched narratively. With how much trouble we had for a single fighter at the start, i felt like in universe things got too easy with too little justification.

I was really disappointed with dioscuris writing, and also weirded out by the fact that there were twin humans and twin gods but very little was drawn about their connection…?? I was so certain that they would have some sort of relationship, or at least a cool narrative foil, but all we got was the twin humans hating the dioscuri because they killed their friends, and a cheap line about adele criticizing the girl twin for always following what her brother said.

I feel mixed about chaos, because in the moment i was emotionally moved but in retrospect it feels like a bit of a cheap non-foreshadowed reason for musashi to die epicly. Though maybe it was foreshadowed and i missed it; ill have to reread, but for now it just feels Too out of the blue to feel good.

But i think the thing that i think i disliked the most was “actually zeus was going to fuck off in the end and abandon the humans here letting them die so this lostbelt was evil from the start and gudako is objevtively right for this”

And like. Thats so AGGRAVATING for the lostbelt that was drummed up to be the one that would give us the most trouble, the lostbelt that was supposed to be the model one.

What i really wanted out of this lostbelt was a lostbelt that was objectively better than earth. That really? The only reason we could justify destroying it was for our own survival. Not because the lostbelt was in some way flawed, but because we have no other choice. With how sickly killing the first lostbelt felt, i really wanted lostbelt 5 to blow me out of the park with the emotional weight of killing a world and it just. didnt even try. It threw in some half assed line about why this lostbelt was well and truly evil

Which like! Honestly if it had been done well enough i couldve been fine with, couldve been happy with. But the twist that zeus actually was going to fuck off? That chaos was going to destroy all the humans anyway?? That zeus brainwashed the other gods to his side anyway????? I felt zero sympathy in destroying this lostbelt and i wanted to, SO badly

And i am All Here for a more in depth take on how humans have twisted robots into gods. How these ronots thought they could love humans but didnt hold the capacity for it!!! Honestly that concept is super cool!! I liked it!!! But like. The way it was delivered left a bad taste in my mouth. I wanted to care more about the tragedy it had wrought.

I wish that zeus’ defeat was something like… in attempting to defeat zeus, chaldea accidentally/maybe on purpose? Endangers the people of olympus. And through the motions of protecting them, zeus burns and falls to ruin. And as he lays there, he realizes that as much as he wants to care for these people hes protecting, he doesnt. And hes dying for what he feels is nothing.

If i put more thought to it i could come up with more ways the god plotline couldve been bettered on. But like. A third act twist where the reader is reassured that this lostbelt is undeniably evil is really one of the worst options they couldve taken at that point. Basically everything else i can forgive but that felt really sour in my mouth

And finally . I loved kirschtania and caenis i did cry. I could say more on them but itd be fairly incoherent especially when im this tired. Just know that i really really like them

#fgo #lb5.2 #lb5 #fgo olympus #kiki speaks

13 notes · View notes

narugen · 2 months

Note

I love blurred lines and broken walls so much!!!

What do you think a fic idea with cat shifter!Hoshina, who's a little nippy at first but quickly warms up to Mina's unrelenting love and affection for cats?

JAW DROP A HOSHIMINA ASK

first of all thank you so so much for coming here to tell me omg that means so much 🥹🤍🤍🤍🤍 i’m so happy you enjoyed it!!

also erm just expanded on ur idea a “little” under cut LOL i went crazy I MIGHT ACTUALLY WRITE IT? gid bless u

secondly IH MY GOD CAT SHIFTER HOSHINA NOT KNOWING WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE LOVED AFTER BEING ABANDONED NUMEROUS TIMES BEFORE… as a cat.. as a human… so he lives his life wondering as a stray cat wondering if there’ll ever be someone who’ll love him…. cue ashiro mina…. mina whom he finds one day, aged 18, crying her eyes out (let’s say this is an au and kafka is going to a different country or something he’s #successful and uhhhh idk he’s just leaving Her and she’s SO upset about it but in true mina fashion all she can do is wish her best friend well and cheer him on…. but she is so lonely…)

if we wanna make it a bit older. maybe office worker mina, 25, feeling like such a mundane life is Not for her.. and she keeps making mistakes at work and she’s so frustrated. also crying but not really and hoshina notices her and he doesn’t really know what’s going on - doesn’t even reach out to humans (or other cats, cat shifters) alike but he finds himself drawn to her so he walks up to her in his cat form and bumps his head against her ankles…

something something she loves cats so much and this felt like fate (but also omg imagine if she’s SCARED of adopting another after losing miko when she was a kid) and she thanks him for accompanying her but god. she wants to bring him home so bad but she just Can’t.

until they keep running into each other bc she passes by this park on the way to the train station and HES ALWAYS THERE waiting for each morning and she starts bringing food for him. never forgets to leave without giving him chin scratches. somehow after that going and coming home from work isn’t so awful anymore.

bc she knows she’ll get to see hoshina (cat) and omfg imagine what if one day it’s fucking storming. typhoon warnings and mina made it home before it started getting bad but it’s raining and she’s searching all over the damn park for hoshina bc she can’t just Leave Him outside and she’s drenched by the time she finds his cat form hiding under a tree/in bushes/whatever and she’s SO RELIEVED. she places him in the safety and warmth of her coat, against her chest and makes the mad dash home…

I CSNT STOP KEEPING THE WORDS FROM FORMIMG BUT LISTEN LISTEN. AND THEN SHE SNEEzes and hoshina cat places a paw on her face like: bless you and she’s still scared (of loss) but decides. after the storm. she’ll get all the supplies she needs. and and and then hoshina starts living with her and and and hoshina is Genuinely so loved for once in his damn life and he’s so ARGHHHHHHHH

picture this: ur a fucking cat guy who never had anybody keep u for long. always getting abandoned. have braved through storms and winters alone and cold and that was fine until one day u understand what it’s like to be wanted (because a human, drenched to the bone, hair soaked and curling against her forehead breathing a sigh of Relief, upon finding him in the rain? hoshina can’t get that sight out of his mind even if he Tried)

and he’s so scared of fucking up bc SHE likes him as a cat. in his cat form so he tries his best control his powers but one day . idk what’s the criteria for shifting but he shifts one day (because. there’s a reason actually. he wishes he could Hug her sometimes. the way she hugs him but his little legs and paws aren’t enough to show her how much he wants to return her affectionate gestures and-)

and one day mina is SICK down with such a high fever he doesn’t need to shift to know she’s burning up and he thinks. he’ll apologize. maybe leave if she kicks him out. but he needs to do something for her he wouldn’t be able to as a cat (buy medicine, cook for her because he knows quite a bit, etc) and mina is delirious, she has to be, as she drifts in and out of consciousness seeing someone who..? whom she doesn’t know but feels like she’s known for ages take care of her and she manages to croak out a weak hoshina before she calls back asleep to the feeling of a cool hand and even cooler towel on her forehead GOD I COULD GO ON FOR AGES and mina thinks the entire thing must’ve been a dream but she wakes up to warm soup on her bedside, her cat (hoshina) curled up against her in bed and she can’t make sense of it Now. but she will. when she’s feeling better.

I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS FOR THIS CAN U FUCKINH TELL UR MAKING ME GO BONKERS HERE ANON anyway she sits him down at the dining table and it’s comical seeing him sit on the table as she sits on the other end dead serious like. Do You Know What Happened.

and cat hoshina is like mrmrf (cat noise) but he’s so adamant on not revealing himself bc he’s so Afraid.

and then she tells him that she’ll love him no matter what and he’s like Poof instantly and he has to get down from the fucking table bc HELLO THIS WASNT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN AND TJEY GAPE AT EACH ORHER IN SHOCK AND ITS THE FIRST TIME HES TRANSFORMED WITHOUT HIS CONTROL???

she doesn’t scream. she doesn’t hurl insults. she doesn’t call him a freak. she simply stares blankly at him and goes. Oh.

“makes sense.”

“??????”

in tears and then they lived happily ever after the end bc. god knows id write out the whole outline here if i let my brain keep going

#anonymous #asks #idea bank #hoshimina

1 note · View note

avintagekiss24 · 3 years

Text

—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

#bad things happen bingo #buckybarnesbingo2021 #ssb2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #5k...holy god

2K notes · View notes

besotted-eros · 3 years

Text

a little green

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

Genre: Smut

Content: mentions of choking, breeding, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, jealousy, use of term "daddy".

Summary: Why would you ever mention another man to Eren? You knew what it would do to him.

You winced as the tin cup hit the floor, the clattering making your body cringe away. After all that effort to carefully extract yourself from Eren's tight grip, creep out of your bedroom, and begin the preparations for breakfast as silently as you could, it was a simple cup that destroyed it.

"Stupid fucking thing." You swore as you knelt to grab it. But before your fingers met the metal, another hand wrapped around the handle.

He was behind you suddenly, making you pitch forward with a start and grab the counter for support. The hairs on the back of your neck rose as you felt him. He was heat, commanding your attention and filling your brain even though he was behind you.

"Eren, dear God. It woke you up that fast?" You exclaimed as your boyfriend chuckled. He placed the cup on the counter in front of you, wrapping his free arm around your waist.

"Been awake for a bit now." His raspy voice purred against the back of your head. "You think I stay asleep when you're not beside me?" The expanse of his chest was against you, the jut of his hips. Every angular line of his body, from bare chest to thighs, finding its place against your own. His hand traced lazy circles on your waist as you busied yourself with readying a pan with eggs and sliced meat.

"You don't get leave often, I just wanted you to sleep in once. Your friends are coming for lunch, and then you'll be off again tonight. You deserve some rest." You responded, raising your cheek when his hand closed around your chin. He pressed his lips to your skin, holding you for a moment before letting his fingers trail down your neck.

"Don't you know waking up beside you is my greatest pleasure? Nice to see something pretty in the morning, besides Armin's snoring face." He murmured, tracing along your collar bone. He leaned into you heavily, sleep still thick in his voice. You had to admit the tenor of it made you warm.

"If you let me live in the city with you, we'd be able to do it more often." You said, flipping the eggs expertly. You grabbed for spices, your movement hindered by the lanky form clinging to you.

"Told you, want you outta harms way. Danger finds that city. You're safe here. I like the thought of you here." His lips found your neck as he spot, peppering kisses along the exposed skin. He kissed along the marks he left last night, the tokens of his love.You felt your knees weaken at it, but tried to keep your composure. "Scouts stationed nearby, lots of space. Kind village. You can grow here, y/n."

"Grow away from you?" You asked, your tone light and teasing. Eren stiffened against you, and the arm around your waist tightened. His lips were stilled, resting above where your heartbeat pressed against your skin. "Maybe I'll put down roots with some nice village boy. The miller's son always slides me more grain than I come to him with."

You had moved the pan off of the heat, and for a moment the only sounds were of the crackling fat. "Really?" Eren asked, his fingers digging into your hip as he came alive behind you. He moved you, grip firm as he pulled you from the stove, pivoting on his heel so he could press you over the counter top. Another line grew against you, from where the curve of your ass met his hips.

"Does he get like this when he sees you?" Eren asked as he pressed his quickly hardening shaft to you. His voice was darker now, his hand moving from your collar bone to cup your breast through the thin linen of your blouse.

"Do you think he wants to grab these? Touch them the way I do?" His fingers massaged the soft flesh, making you bite your lower lip as you struggled to contain a cry of surprise and pleasure. Your gentle teasing had awoken something, something you knew lied in wait. But you didn't realise it would come this fast. You reached behind you, stroking your fingers through his hair. He had put it up in a bun.

"No." He growled, snatching your hand and pinning it to the counter. He straightened up as he pushed your torso down, keeping his hips in contact with your ass. "Don't get to touch me when you're looking at other men. Don't get to touch me, gotta teach you a lesson." He snarled. You hated how undone you were by his words, the warmth in your stomach now a raging bonfire as he furiously rubbed against you, letting you feel his desire. His hand curled on the back of your head, keeping your face pressed into the cool wood.

"E-eren..." You hissed through gritted teeth, your back arching in desperation to attain more touch, more of him.

"Now you wanna say my name, huh?" You could head the grin in his voice, the triumph of making you his. He grabbed the fabric of your skirt, quickly pushing it above your thighs. "You wanna act like a good girl now because you know you're in trouble." His palm found your ass, groping it lewdly before pulling back to give your left cheek a resounding spank. You jerked forward, yelping out in surprise Erens teeth grazed over his lower lip, the sound of you making his cock jump with want. He slapped the other cheek, eyes dancing at the sight of how your flesh trembled and shook at his behest.

"God, you're not even wearing anything under your skirt. That fucking desperate huh?" He asked, returning his hips to rub his bulge against your exposed lips, now separated by only the thin layer of the cotton trousers he slept in. "Is this how you go to see him, huh? Tell me." He growled, forcing your legs further apart as you scrabbled against the counter for purchase.

"N-no! Only for you, I only do that for you." You gasped, and Eren grinned. He pushed down the waistband of his pants, letting his throbbing cock free before pressing it against your pussy. He avoided the aching hole, instead dragging himself back and forth between your wet lips. The head bumped against your clit as he thrust, making you flinch with pleasure. One hand rested on your waist, holding you in place while the other curled around your throat.

"Why? Why do you do that for me?" He was purring now, and you could feel locks of hair coming lose from his bun.

"Because... Because I'm yours." You murmured, and his grip on your throat tightened. He would never hurt you, he was always so careful. But he loved seeing your face turn red, loved knowing that you trusted him with your life.

"Say it again. Prove it." He demanded, moving to grab his shaft and line the head with your pussy.

"I'm yours! Fuck, Eren fuck me please, I'm just yours okay? I'm only yours, I'm forever yours! There's no other man, there's no other anything!" You were begging now, twisting to look back at him. The sight was something to behold.

His jaw was slack, emerald eyes thick with lust as he gazed back at you. It was like he was ready to consume you, to eat your being whole and lick his fingers after. His chest stuttered with breath, firm abs flexing as he curled his hips up.

"That's right. Yeah baby, that's right." He cooed, reaching up to stroke a finger across your cheek. You turned your head, pressing your lip to his wrist as he groaned.

"Only mine." He whispered, and you felt him against your entrance, spreading it with his thick head.

"Forever mine." Your face was against the counter again, gasps escaping as he pressed forward, inch by cloying inch. You fit him like a glove, and he groaned in appreciation at your hot, wet walls closing around him.

He gave you a moment to adjust to his immense length, his hand now soft in your hair. He stroked through it once, from your scalp to the tip. Fingers twisting around your locks, eyes gentle as he felt their silk.

And then, he was fucking you. Mercilessly, his hips snapping on the return to drive deeper and deeper. His cock pounded into you, hard enough to make you feel it in your stomach. When Eren let go, when you made Eren let go, there was no end. He would use you, please himself with your cunt until you were a sopping mess under him.

All you could do was urge him forward.

"Eren, it's so good, so fucking good yeah, yeah please... Please give me more, p-please..." You managed to whine out, and he responded with a groan, leaning over you as he pulled your hips back, making you bounce against him.

"Like that? Fucking like that?" He hissed through gritted teeth. You nodded, letting out a cry of exasperation as he moved back, pulling out of you and leaving you hollow.

You didn't have time to complain, as he deftly moved you onto your back.

"There. Wanna see your face, see your pretty face while I..." He held your thighs, spreading them wide as he pushed back inside you with a grunt. It was a smooth motion, one that sent your eyes rolling back into your head. You grabbed at him, at his broad muscular shoulders, at his firm chest and torso.

"No one... Makes you feel like this... No one in the world. No one but me." He whispered, his eyes locked onto your face, your expression of pure bliss sending waves of pleasure through out him. He loved the feeling of you clinging onto him, your once independent and powerful body reduced to a little toy for him. Let other men stare, let them ply you with gifts. He lifted you up, becoming your only anchor to the world as his fingers dug into your ass, making you bounce on his shaft in a way that made his knees weak. At the end of the day, you were his. His only. His cocksleeve. His lover. No matter how little nights he spent in your bed, no matter how far away he was from you.

But how to make others see that?

Your face was pressed against his taunt neck, your moans filling the small house.

"Shall I fuck a baby into you, y/n?" Eren asked, his voice clear and ringing in your ears like a bell. It cut through the haze of your pleasure as you processed it, and then it came back tenfold. Eren grinned as he felt your reaction, the way your pussy tightened on him. The way your moans increased.

"Oh, you like that huh? Like the thought of me breeding you?" He purred, fingers gripping onto you harder. You were coming close to the edge, on that rocky cliff before cloud nine. And he was getting you there faster than you ever had.

"Y-yes, I d-do..." You squeaked out as he bit into your shoulder, trying to quell his own rising heat. He stilled you for a moment, letting you catch your breath and kissing away the noises while you whined. He walked forward, balancing you precariously on the head of his hard dick as he reached the front door. Eren put you down, turning you to face the doorway as his hand snaked around, unlocking it and pulling open. You looked upon your front yard, at the flowers you grew, the field of wheat across the narrow lane. It was quiet, it was peaceful.

"Eren?" You questioned, turning to look at him. Wordlessly he pushed you towards it, making you grasp the door frame as he moved your skirt up. He pulled your hips towards him, and you were bent over, legs being forced open.

"Someone will see Eren, sometimes p-people take this road." You whimpered, and your only response was a dark chuckle.

"Give them something to look at then." He growled as he pushed his way inside of you, dragging against your puffy wet walls. You moan in unison with him and he held onto you tightly as his hips began to move.

"Gonna fucking breed you, gonna fucking breed you." He chanted, panting with each thrust. His hair was wild now, eyes shining in the early morning sun. The cool midday air attempted to calm your bodies, to dull the passion. But nothing could.

"Y-your friends! They're gonna be here so-soon... Eren oh my god!" You were blubbering now, feeling your wetness course down your legs as your man ruthlessly pounded you from behind. He reached around, and there was a sound of tearing that joined the squelching of your sex. The breeze run across your breasts as he exposed them, pawing at them wontonly as he bent over you.

"These are gonna get so full, Y/n. You ready for that? Ready to make me a daddy? Want the world to see. Want the world to know what you let me do to you."

Your vision was blurry, pleasure and tears making your head feel as though it was full of burning cotton. All that existed right now was Eren. The way you touched you, the way he undid you, the way he took you and made you nothing but his.

"Yes." You repeated, clutching at the frame when his fingers found your clit. His chest was against your back, bending you over further as he rut you like a bitch.

"Say it. Say you want my load. Say you want my babies." He commanded, the pads of his fingers glancing over your throbbing button over and over.

"I want your cum Eren, I want your cum, breed me, please breed my pussy I'll make you a daddy let me make you a daddy, let me-" your voice spilled into the open air, a loud moan cutting your begging short as your pussy tightened around Eren's cock, pulsating as you creamed for him. The sensation was too much for him, and he reciprocated eagerly, shooting stream after stream of hot cum into you.

With a groan Eren let himself fall from you, pulling you up to straighten and closing the door.

"I'm sorry about your blouse." He murmured as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He walked backwards toward the couch, wrapping his arms around your waist and guiding you down with him. "Got ahead of myself." He whispered. You kissed, the panting of your breaths mingling as his sweet lips moved against yours. This was always when he was most gentle, most soft.

"'s okay, you just owe me a new one." You lay against him, enjoying the way his body thrummed underneath you. You'd miss this tonight. This warmth, his hands smoothing your hair back.

"I'll have some things sent down with the next supply for the scouts. There will be grain for you too in there,already milled." You raised your head, your brow furrowed.

"And what does that mean?" You snapped, but your anger quelled when he smiled. Smiles from Eren were so rare. It caught you off guard, stopped the scolding in your throat.

"Just teasing." He replied, pulling you up for another kiss.

659 notes · View notes

sequinsmile-x · 2 years

Note

AHHH!! Happy early birthday my friend!! I am so thankful to know you and I throughly enjoy our friendship. Your writing never ceases to amaze me!!

I love you so much. Can I request prompt 5 and 13 from list 1 please? 💕

Ahhh thank you friend!! <3 I love you too, and really enjoy our friendship (and that you'll just accept that I send you tiktoks that call us both out!)

The prompts for this one are:

“Did you call me sweetheart?”/ “Sorry for borrowing your clothes.” “Don’t be, you look great in them.”

Couldn't tell you why, but this immediately screamed Demonology to me, and I know you love some hurt/comfort - so here you go <3

-x-

Tranquility

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: Discussion of abortion

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron wants to call her, wants to drive over to her apartment to make sure she’s safe, that she's doing as ok as she can be after the last few days. But he doesn’t think she wants to hear from him, the text he had sent remained unanswered, not even an acknowledgement sent back in his direction.

It had been the first real test of the separation of their personal and their work lives, the first time since they’d started dating after Colorado. The almost physical pain he felt at hearing her getting hurt and not being able to do anything about it made him re-evaluate his feelings for his now girlfriend. It had taken him longer to work up the courage to ask her out than he would have liked, a smile on her face and a “took you long enough” on her lips after he finally cracked after the Viper case. The sight of her in that dress was too much for him to bear.

Aaron couldn’t help but feel that he had failed the test, at least in her eyes. He was by the book, she knew that, that had already bent the rules a little for her anyway, letting her chase a lead over Matthew’s death that he was sure was nothing at first. The sight of her distressed and wet from the rain was hard to take, her usually carefully constructed persona she wore at work like a mask cracked, a bit of the Emily he got to see outside of the office peeking through. He hadn’t been able to reach for her, to hold her like he wanted to, all too aware of their surroundings, no one but the team aware of the shift in their relationship, so he’d done what he could. He had to draw the line somewhere, even for her, even though he’d tear his heart out of his chest if she asked him to.

It was hers to do as she wished with anyway.

He keeps himself busy, doing unnecessary chores around his apartment, his phone in his pocket in case she contacts him. He isn’t sure how long he has been home when there’s a tentative knock on the door. He frowns, wondering who it could be at this late hour, and when he sees it's her through the peephole he almost rips the door off its hinges to let her in.

The sight of her makes his chest ache, she’s upset, clearly not trying to cover it from him. Devastation splashed across her face like a morose painting. She’s clearly soaked to the bone, melting snowflakes in her hair and on her shoulders, a shiver passing through her that he doubts she’s noticed.

What catches his attention the most is the blood just below her nose, dried to her skin, as brightly coloured as her grief.

“Em,” he breathes out, ushering her into his apartment, wincing at the cool, wet, feel of her coat, “you could have used your key.”

He isn’t sure why it’s his first thought, why that is the first thing he says to her, but it makes one corner of her lips twitch in a smile.

“I don’t have anything with me.” She chokes out, and her voice cracks. “I didn’t…I didn’t want to be alone.”

“You can always come here.” He says, undoing her coat buttons and easing it off of her, quickly hooking it up with his, “now, let's warm you up.”

He leads her over to the couch, grabbing the blanket he kept over the back of it as he goes. He remembers the last time she’d been here, only days ago, sat next to him and wrapped up in the same blanket, complaining that just because he was always warm didn’t mean he had to keep his apartment cold. The touch of the fleecy material against his skin brings the memory back to life, like she was permeated in everything in his life, not just on his very being. He sits her down and wraps it around her, making sure it was tight around her shoulders, determined she didn’t lose any more body heat.

“I’ll get the blanket all wet,” she says, her teeth chattering slightly, the cold really settling in now she was indoors, “it will get ruined.”

“I don’t care about that,” he replies, barely taking his eyes off of her as he grabs a paper towel from the kitchen, wetting it under the sink as he joins her again, sitting on the coffee table in front of her, “all I care about is you.”

He half expects a retort, a comment that he had a funny way of showing it, but he knows it won't come. That despite her earlier anger at him she understood the position he was in, that he truly had done all he could for her and more.

He knows Strauss will have something to say when she finds out he’d called the Vatican.

He’s gentle as he reaches out for her, his hand cupping her chin as he reaches out and wipes the blood away from her face.

“Want to talk about it?” He asks, disposing of the paper towel next to him on the table.

“Yes.” She replies, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

“Ok, we can do that,” his hand slips to cup her cheek, this thumb delicate against her skin, stroking where dimples would show when she smiled at him, “do you want to eat?” She shakes her head in response to that. He nods and he stands up, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he does, taking her hands and encouraging her to stand too. “You go have a shower, ok? I’ll make you some tea, meet you in bed.”

She smiles tightly at him in response, and she leans up to kiss his cheek, her lips cold against his skin, and she moves away towards his bedroom.

Aaron releases a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as he watches her walk away. He checks the door is locked before he heads to bed for the evening, and brushes past her still soaked coat as he does. He knows it won’t be dry by morning, that despite a number of her belongings making it over to his apartment this was the only outerwear she had here, so he decides to put it in the dryer.

He checks the pockets on the short walk to the laundry room, a habit he had picked up due to Jack often leaving small toys in his pants, and he freezes when he pulls out a folded-up photograph. He unfolds it and is greeted by a picture of a young Emily, a boy on each side of her that he would put money on being Matthew and John. Aaron sighs as he puts the coat in the dryer and turns it on, the photo still in his hand.

His mind whirls with what could have happened, what had made the three happy teenagers in the picture fall apart into whatever mess this last case had been. He sets it aside, making a mental note to wipe the dried blood off of it in the morning, and heads to the kitchen to make her the tea.

He might not be able to stop a teenage Emily from going through whatever clearly had happened, but he would do his best to make sure his Emily, the one currently in his shower, felt better. ___

Despite the hot shower, Emily swears she doesn’t feel any warmer as she steps out of it, immediately folding herself into one of the fluffy towels Aaron kept in the bathroom. She looks at herself in the mirror, wiping away some of the steam to see her own reflection properly, how tired she looked coming across even in the slightly distorted image. She sighs, drying herself off quickly and pulling on a pair of Aaron’s sweatpants and one of his sweatshirts. She had her own clothes her, her own toiletries in his shower, but she needed the extra comfort, the feeling of him wrapping around her.

It’s why she’d used his body wash instead of her own, as if she thought the scent of him on her very skin could undo years of heartache.

She didn’t have to tell him. She knew that. That as her boss he didn’t need to know what had pushed her over the edge with this case, what had driven her usual professionalism away.

But she wanted to tell her boyfriend.

Wanted him to know this deeply guarded part of herself that now the only other person alive who knew it existed was John.

She just hoped he didn’t judge her for it, although Aaron had never given her any belief that he truly would.

She walks out of the bathroom to find him already in bed, on the side designated as his, and he smiles reassuringly at her, his eyebrow raised when he takes in her appearance.

“Sorry for borrowing your clothes,” she says, knowing he liked it. That she could convince him of just about anything sat on one of their kitchen counters wearing nothing but one of his button-downs.

“Don’t be,” he says, pulling the covers down for her to climb in next to him, “you look great in them.”

She gets into bed, immediately snuggling up to his side, the warmth she’d been craving immediately starting to seep from him into her. They silently settle further into the bed, and she ends up with her face pressing into his chest, her arm and leg slung over him as she tries to get as close as possible. He wraps her up in his arms, one slipping under her, both of them on his side of the bed, and the other cupping the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her still wet hair.

“I want to tell you,” she says, her cheek against the thin material of his t-shirt, his heartbeat underneath soothing her, “but I’m worried it might change how you think of me.”

“Nothing could ever do that, Em,” he says, kissing her forehead, “nothing.”

She smiles sadly, not knowing if that was strictly true. Having to physically shake her head to get rid of thoughts of the smell of smoke and danger, both interchangeable to her now, and a pair of ice-blue eyes that haunted nightmares she occasionally had to lie to Aaron about.

This, however, she was sure he was right about.

“When I was…” she starts, having to blow out a shaky breath, closing her eyes briefly to steady herself before she begins again, “when I was 15 my mother got stationed in Rome. That's where I met Matthew and John. I didn’t make friends that easily and with them, it felt different,” she swallows thickly, and focuses on the feeling of his hand in her hair, his fingers delicate against her scalp, “and I so badly wanted to keep what I found that I, well I was 15 so I did just about anything.” She half expects him to interrupt her, to cut her off like Dave had earlier, but he doesn’t. He’s figured it out if the way he tightens his hold on her is anything to go by, but he remains silent, lets her go at her pace. “And I got pregnant.”

Even now she could still remember the choking fear she’d felt when the tests came back positive, the way she’d had to press her hand over her mouth to stop herself from crying too loudly. It felt like it was yesterday, not half her life ago.

“I got an abortion.” She says simply, waiting for a reaction that doesn’t come before she carries on. “Matthew helped me,” she says her fingers playing with a loose thread on Aaron’s shirt, “he found the clinic and everything. Held my hand,” she chuckles mirthlessly, “He saved me and I couldn’t do the same for him. I let him down.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, finally interrupting her, and he kisses her forehead again, “that’s not true. You got justice for him, that’s what matters.”

She nods against him, not sure if she agrees, but she can’t bring herself to look at him yet, not sure what she’ll find in his eyes.

“Was Matthew…”

“The father? No. It was John. He freaked out when I told him. Yelled at me. Said it was my fault.” She feels his arms tighten around her, and she doesn’t have to look up to know he’s scowling. Anger directed toward the man whose life they had just saved. “I stopped being angry about that a long time ago. He was a kid too.”

“He got to walk away though,” Aaron says, his lips against her forehead. He’d walked away then, and he’d do it this time too. As sure a sign as any that Emily needed to know the universe wasn’t fair.

“Yeah,” she breathes out, “he did.”

They lapse into silence again for a moment before he speaks again, a tone she recognises from countless interrogations in his voice.

“I wish you’d told me before,” he says, his hand trailing through her hair, “I would have given Father Silvano five more minutes with him.”

She laughs, the first joy she’d felt in days flooding through her chest, releasing the first knot caused by the news of Matthew’s death. She pulls back and looks up at him, their eyes meeting, and she feels relief. Nothing in his eyes except the love she always saw, the love neither of them had said out loud yet but knew was there. She reaches up to cup his cheek.

“No, you wouldn’t have, because you’re a good man,” she says, her thumb running back and forth over his stubble, the scratch against her skin grounding, “it’s one of the many, many reasons I keep you around.”

He kisses her properly then, his lips warm against hers, and she shifts so they can look at each other properly.

“Thank you for not…well for not judging me.” She says, more of a shake to her voice than she would like. “No one knows except for Matthew and John,” she frowns slightly, “just John now.”

“Your mother?”

She shakes her head. “God no, she would have locked me up in a convent somewhere. I would have been made to give the baby away.” She smiles sadly at him. “It’s not what I wanted.”

He nods in understanding and cups her cheek, making sure she’s looking at him before he speaks.

“You’re the bravest person I know, sweetheart,” he says, stroking her jawline, “even back then. You were 15 years old and you did the only thing she could.”

She smiles shakily at him, and breathes out, the sound catching on a sob, “I’m sorry I made the last few days so difficult.”

He shakes his head at her before leaning his forehead against hers. “Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad you’re ok.”

“You’re here,” she says, her hand reaching out for him, landing at his neck, “of course I am.”

He kisses her, and she wonders if it’s so he doesn’t tell her that he loves her, a pointed effort that she wouldn’t remember it being linked to this. She’s grateful for it, wants it to be something just for them.

They wordlessly settle into their usual sleeping positions, his chest against her back, and she feels the most content she has in days. She replays the conversation over in her head again, his acceptance of her and her past another cornerstone of their relationship that they had built. She furrows her brow slightly, something occurring to her that she had missed before. Another step in the direction she hoped they’d never stop walking, a nickname slipping free from him in a way she didn’t think even he had noticed.

“Aaron?” She asks quietly, wanting to bring some of their usual playfulness back, something she wasn’t sure how she ever lived without.

“Yes, Em?”

“Did you call me sweetheart?”

-x-

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @sneetchestoo, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys

Join my tag list here!

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fan fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction

34 notes · View notes

heliads · 3 years

Text

Our Paths are One

You recently became a Ranger, traveling the North to protect the land and its people from monster attacks. When you meet Strider, you cannot help but wonder why you seem to keep finding each other in the wilderness, even by accident.

masterlist

The woods of the North are cold this time of night; cruel winds whisper between the trees, carrying with them reports of steel blades to the West and monsters to the East. There is no safe place to rest without keeping one eye open and one hand on the hilt of your sword. It’s a dangerous place, out here in the wilderness, and the threats only grow in number once darkness falls across the hills. All the same, you prowl in the dark with a smile on your face.

Your footsteps, at least, are silent. You’ve been in the forest many times before, and it knows your scent. It’s best not to let it know your footfalls too. That being said, you can still hear a dense shuffling and stomping sound coming from the trees to your right, down a ravine. Your fingers close around your sword, slipping past the pommel to wrap firmly around the grip. The air is thick with the promise of a coming fight. You can only hope to strike now, while you still have surprise on your side.

You’d heard rumors of a pack of orcs traveling somewhere in the vicinity, after a harried traveler had collapsed in a nearby pub last night, bawling stories about how his party had been attacked and had to flee for their lives. There are no doubt many boastful groups looking around for the same monsters, but the title of killing them can only go to one, and you intend it to be you. You only became a Ranger recently- it’s time you earned your stripes and cemented a place for yourself amongst their ranks.

You drop down into the ravine silently, using a patch of moss to disguise the sound of your heels landing on the packed earth. You unsheathe your sword, paying no heed to the bitter glint of moonlight along its edge before you begin your work. You’re able to stab two orcs in the eye and slash one’s throat before one of the beasts finally lets out a dying gurgle of blood and the rest discover that you’re there.

They yell gutturally at you in anger and charge, although you’re ready for them. Their lunges are strong but clumsy, and you’re able to dance around them as if you were part elf instead of fully human. You parry a fierce blow, forcing the nearest orc’s weapon down into the earth before quickly riposting to cut through its chest. Normally, you keep your sword as sharp as possible; tonight, it slices through orc flesh as if it were the thinnest of silks. You smile. It is not the gentlest of looks.

You move steadily through the pack. Trapping them in the narrow ravine had been a smart move, and they’re limited to attacking you in groups of two or three, which you can dispatch quickly before more manage to climb over their fallen brethren to reach you. In fact, you’re just readying yourself for a final swing towards the last pair before the orc in front of you lets out a startled sound, strangled by the blood knotting in its throat and the sword suddenly jutting out of its chest.

The blade is quickly removed, and seconds later, the final orc’s head is spinning off into the ground near its feet. The body falls as if kicked, and you’re face to face with your apparent savior. However, you don’t feel grateful for the rescue, only annoyed. “I had them down. Why would you interfere?” The man before you is tall and dark-haired, his eyes piercing even when lined by a splash of orc blood. His lips are slashed by a smirk. Evidently, he’s proud of himself for ruining your string of kills.

“I wanted to make sure that you would not be hurt. You are one of the newest Rangers, after all. I have yet to see you on this side of the forest before.” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you this welcoming to all new Rangers, or only me?” The corner of his lips twitch again. “You could simply thank me, you know. Let’s just leave it at that.”

You scoff, reaching forward to wipe the blood from your sword on a nearby patch of grass. “Oh, of course. I shall sing your praises to the archangels themselves, mysterious stranger. Now, if you don’t mind, I will be on my way. Or are you going to take over my later travels as well?” There’s a glint of something in the man’s eyes. It could be irritation, could be satisfaction. Perhaps a bit of both.

“Only if I was certain that you would be this upset over it. Who are you, then?” You consider him for a second longer, then nod. Whoever this man is, he’s a fellow Ranger, and committed to ridding this world of orcs, even if the kills are meant to be yours. “Y/N. Y/N L/N.” He inclines his head. “They call me Strider.” You sheath your sword, tapping the hilt once before making for the hills once more. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Strider. With all respect, I hope our paths should never cross again, or I’d fear for my other quests lest you add yourself to them as well.” You can practically hear his grin as you walk away. “The same with you, Y/N.”

You assume that your leaving will be the end of this. The forests and grasslands scattering the North are vast; canvassing them by yourself could take years. The chances of running into this Strider fellow are slim to none.

That being said, when you find yourself crossing through a particularly dark patch of the wilderness and hear the sound of conflict carried to you by the winds, you can’t help but shake your head. You can hear the clang of steel and the snarl of what appears to be half-trolls, but every now and then, you hear a grunt of exertion coming from the swordsman taking on these monsters. It’s a familiar sound, and a familiar voice, despite the fact that you’ve only heard it once before. You grin to yourself. This is going to be fun.

You come across the scene soon enough. You have to admire Strider’s courage- he’s taking on a trio of these half-trolls without an apparent care for his own safety. Then again, you can spot the fleeing silhouettes of a family of travelers. Strider has likely taken on these monsters to save the journeyers, but he’s now left with the difficult task of saving his own skin. He’s so concerned with making it out alive that he hasn’t spotted you yet.

You wait until his back is turned to you, sword holding back the blow of one of the half-trolls’ stone clubs, until you strike. You can see Strider’s eyes widen slightly as your knife buries itself in the chest of the monster in front of him, which sways back and forth before crumpling to the fallen ground. It was an excellent throw, you can admit that yourself. You drop to the ground, rolling under a looming fist before coming up on your feet behind the beast, your sword already in your hand and slashing at its back. The half-troll groans in agony, twisting around to swat at you, but by the time it’s facing you again you have relieved the monster of its arm. It cries out again before turning to run, although it doesn’t make it far before Strider’s sword lodges firmly between its ribs.

When you turn to face the battle scene, you note that the other troll has been dispatched. The clearing is empty save for you, Strider, and a few half-troll carcasses. Strider moves towards you, eyes roving over your arms to check for cuts and scrapes that aren’t there. “May I ask why you chose to intervene?” You can’t help a satisfied smile. “I wanted to make sure that you would not be hurt. You are one of the most maddening Rangers, after all. I couldn’t just leave you to die.”

You walk forward to retrieve your knife from the chest of the fallen half-troll, so you don’t see the slight incredulity washing over Strider’s face. You can hear it in his voice, though, along with the undercurrent of humor that always seems to be present within him. “I appreciate you looking out for me. That’s the sign of a good Ranger, you know. However, seeing as I wouldn’t want you to get hurt, I might advise you to not take on enemies that might be too much for you.”

You stare at him now, before roughly yanking your dagger from the dead monster’s trunk. It comes directly from its heart, and shines darkly from the blood coating it down to the hilt. You hold it up, heedless of the scarlet starting to drip down over your knuckles. “If I thought I couldn’t handle those things, I wouldn’t have gotten involved. I’d argue that I’m worth a little more than you might think, Strider.”

You step forward slowly, until you’re only a few feet away. “We are both Rangers now. It would be best for you to stop seeing me solely as a commoner who stole a weapon from a nearby blacksmith.” You say, yet Strider’s hands close quietly over your knife. You’re not sure why you let him take it, but you watch as he walks a few feet away to wipe the blood from the metal. He does not say another word until he has come back to you, pressing the weapon gently into your awaiting palms. “I would not dare, Y/N.” Something almost like a smile plays over your lips. “I should hope not.”

You see Strider again, and then again. You don’t plan it, honestly, this meeting up with him, it just happens. You’re trying to rid the forest of some thieves, he appears on the path behind you to stop you from being cut off at all sides. He’s cornered by some rogue orcs, you find yourself charging the lot to ensure that the one Ranger you know won’t find a lonely death in the forest. You’re not sure whether you would consider him a rival, a friend, or any mixture of those terms, only that it does make you smile every time you see him.

Then, in the midst of a nighttime journey, you get the sensation that something is wrong. The feeling washes over your skin, raising the hairs on your arms and chilling your bones. You dismount from your horse, walking forward to look over the edge of a nearby bluff for any signs that another conflict has come upon you. You see it then- a rocky outcropping not far from you, a single curl of smoke piercing the sky. It is quiet, and suddenly a shriek shatters through the night.

You clap a hand over your mouth to stop a gasp of shock. You’ve never heard that deathly wail before, yet you can recognize it instantly: a ringwraith. It could be nothing else. Even by hearing the sound, you can conjure up the mental picture: darkly clothed figures, rattling breaths, the stench of death even before they strike. Somehow, you know that the wraiths are approaching that mountaintop, and somehow you know that there is a Ranger there who will attempt take them on alone.

You’ve jumped onto your horse before you can muster up a second thought, lashing the reins and charging forward in a thunderous gallop. You’re not bothering with silence this time, only speed. Your steed canters forward as fast as it can, racing between low-hanging boughs and up the side of the rocky mountaintop. You can only hope that you’ll arrive fast enough. The thought alone is not enough to stop your nerves from threatening to tear you asunder.

You approach the rocky clearing soon enough, and your heart catches in your throat to see the scene. Across the space from you, you can see four of what appears to be hobbits, one of them lying painfully on the ground as if injured. Then, closer to you, one man armed with a torch and a sword, taking on five Nȃzgul as if they were no more than garden-variety thieves. You could almost laugh at his selflessness, were it not for the fact that he’s about to get himself killed.

You have a torch of your own, and hold it in the air. Your horse raises itself on its hind legs, neighing loudly in the still air. The attention of the ringwraiths is diverted to you, as is Strider’s, although you cannot tell whether or not the look in his eyes is driven by relief or regret. You charge forward, torch held at the ready. Your horse bears down upon the cloaked beings, moving forward swiftly despite their shrieks and calls. You swat at first one then the other, beating them back with the fire.

You can feel your horse panicking beneath you, so you jump down after a second, trusting it to remain close. You and Strider fight side by side, forming a barrier of flaming torches and steel that does not allow any of the Nȃzgul to approach. At last, Strider lunges forward, forcing the last of them back. All of a sudden, you are alone once more, the air seeming to heat up again now that the soul-sucking chill of the ringwraiths has been removed.

You do not have a chance to speak with him immediately. The dark-haired hobbit, Frodo, is gravely injured from a wraith’s blade, and is rushed away with an elf who smiles at you briefly before taking off once more. Then, you have to watch over the remaining hobbits, and make sure they don’t manage to call attention to themselves once more. Only once it is far later into the night, when Strider has allowed the three hobbits to rest, do you follow his unspoken request and go with him a ways away from the meager camp to talk.

Strider waits until you’re sufficiently out of earshot of the camp before he begins. He is pacing away, away, and then he whirls back to you. There’s a fierce sort of light in his gaze that has never been there before; it becomes him, in a way. “What were you doing here? You could have been killed!” You raise an eyebrow. “You could have been killed as well. That’s why I was here, actually, making sure that you weren’t murdered when you tried to take on a swarm of Nȃzgul.”

His eyes flash in the darkness. “Do not put the blame of this on me. I will not have your death on my conscience.” You let out a surprised, bitter laugh. “You won’t, I’m still alive. How are you upset about this? This is what we do, we save each other. You want to avoid thinking that I could have died because of you? How do you think I would feel if you died when I did nothing about it? I would rather have been killed than know that you were going up against ringwraiths while I sat back and watched.”

Strider’s expression is merciless. “I would rather have your grief if it meant you were alive. There are only so many rangers in the forest. We cannot afford to lose one because you wanted to get involved in something like this.” You shake your head, disbelieving. “That’s what this is all about? You would chide me for saving your life, all because you are worried about the numbers of rangers?”

There’s a pause, and then he speaks again. “No. It is not for that.” All of a sudden, his fierce stance is gone, replaced by a man, just a man. Out of some indescribable emotion, you reach forward and take his hand. He stares at your interlocked fingers, and so do you. “Then what is it, Strider? What would make you speak this way?” He looks at you for a second longer, then his gaze flicks away again. “Aragorn. That is my true name. I would have you use it.”

Your fire is gone now, as is his. All that remains is a few embers, catching light in the dark night of this section of the forest. “Then, Aragorn, what would make you afraid to lose me?” Your tone is light. You cannot think about the consequences of what this all means. “This is a lonely life, Y/N. All the same, I have still had you. Do you know how large the wilderness is, how great the expanse of territory that we rangers pursue? Yet, every week or two, I still see you. Somehow, our paths keep crossing. If I lost you tonight, and I had to go back into the forest without knowing that you were there somewhere with me, I would feel more lost than the first time I stepped from my doorstep.”

His voice is quiet. Yours is too. “Then you understand why I had to fight too, don’t you? It is the same for me. Your loss is mine.” Aragorn looks up at you. “The same?” You nod. His eyes have warmed again, the fire warm this time, not meant to burn but to encourage you to stay a little longer. He glances towards the camp, no doubting wondering what trouble the hobbits have managed to get themselves into. “We go to Rivendell, after Frodo. Will you go with us?” You smile at him. “Anywhere, Aragorn. My path is yours.” He kisses you before he goes, and you watch him walk back to the camp, silhouetted by the soft starlight. You will follow soon enough. For now, you sit and think to yourself, wondering how you managed to get this lucky.

lotr tag list: your compliments would lead me to swear undying allegiance to you @underc0vercryptid

185 notes · View notes

loousir · 3 years

Text

[Orc] Saviour

Orc Male x Male Reader

Borhul

Warnings: Slight Orc to Human racisim, no violence other than what you see before the cut (3rd paragraph), injured reader, reader is written to be muscular

Masterlist

----------------------------------------------------------------

You were currently leaning against a tree trying to catch your breath as you were holding your wounded side tightly. Three heavy and thundering sets of footsteps got closer and closer until they stopped. You did your best to hold your breath steady and quiet but it failed you.

"Ah, there ya are, ya littl' pest." A large grey-ish green hand stole you away from your hiding spot. "Why cant you just leave me the fuck alone?" You croaked out as he gripped your shirt tighter. "Cause littl' runts like you, dont belong in an Orc settl'm'nt. All we're doin' is disposin' of the rat in the kitch'n." He snarled out, his nose crinkling up as he spoke. His buddies cut your legs more then they already had been to make sure you didnt run off but in such a way so that you didnt bleed out too quickly.

Your groaning voice of pain was ignored as the main Orc tossed you onto the wet mossy dirt right up against an old tree stump. You looked up to the Orc with a harsh glare before speaking for the final time that night. "You have absolutely no dignity and no right to call yourself an Orc." Your vision went blurry and your eyes closed, breathing heavily as everything faded out.

You sat up with a start as the sun had heat up your wounded cheek, causing it to hurt. Your breath was unsteady, uneven, and incredibly heavy. A strong pounding sensation coarsed through your head as you hunched over and grabbed your chest, trying to calm your breathing. "Shit..."

After a fre minutes, you finally calmed down enough to take in your surroundings. The room was only lit by the light that shone through the large window next to the large plush bed you were currently sitting on. There was minimal decoration in the room but it was garnishing a large war hammer resting on the mantle of the fireplace. You carefully turned your legs out from under the covers to have them hang off the side of the bed.

Only your boxers/briefs were on and you took note how most of your body was bandaged, including the whole of your left cheek. You carefully shuffled off the bed, still using it heavily for support as your feet touched the bear skin rug. You realized it was an Onikuma.

I know who's house this is...

The house belonged to your closest friend, Borhul. He's one of the clan chiefs off-spring and next in line to be chief. His father, Orogakh, had taken a particular shine to you after he had rescued you from a group of "bandits" that had you bound and ready to sell off to some vampire as a blood slave.

Orogakh had been watching them before he noticed your child frame. He said his original intent was to just see if they were going to harm the settlement but just had an urge to rescue you. Once he did, he would return you to a human village but when you said you had no family he decided to take you in.

His teachings formed you into the tall, muscular man that you are today. You decided to stop reminiscing for a moment to continue your shaky trek out to the livingroom.

"He's not here..."

You looked around his lightly decorated cabin before hobbling over to the large couch and sitting down. Your eyes closed momentarily before opening again when the heavy front door creaked open. His lime green eyes instantly locked with yours and he rushed over to you. "You're awake." He seemed shaken, as if he didnt think you'd wake up.

"Uh, yeah." You looked to his eyes again to see them watering as he pulled you gently into a hug. "Gods I was so worried." You hugged back and gently reassured him by rubbing your rather soft hand against his exposed spine. Most Orc's in the settlement walked around wearing only bottoms so him being shirtless was a common sight.

He pulled away and looked to your eyes. "Do you think... I could get the rundown of what happened? I passed out and I really only know up until that point." Borhul pulled away and looked at you, your eyes looking down to his silver rings that fit perfectly over his long, slim tusks.

"After I change your dressings and get you a bath I will." You nodded and mumbled out an 'ok' before he suddenly picked you up bridal style. He was about a foot and a half taller than you, standing at 7'7" but he was still so extremely gentle with you, as if he were to accidentally squeeze too hard he would break a bone.

"I know I'm wounded but I'm not a porcelain doll." You said quietly as he sat you down on his bathrooms toilet. He grunts and kneels down in front of you. "Please no snarky remarks right now." He started to gently unwrap your left calf, slowly traveling up to your thigh. You watched carefully as he revealed still healing, yet well cared for wounds.

"Have you been the one looking after me?" You asked looking to his face. He had started on unwrapping your right leg but paused to look up to you and nod. Your eyes softened as you looked to his again. Without thinking, your hand reached out to his face, gently cupping his cheek. His eyes closed and he leaned slightly into your touch. "Sorry for making you worry so much Bora."

He shook his head before continuing to unwrap your wounds. "No, it's not your fault. I just wished I had realized something was up sooner." You smiled as he moved up to your arms, beginning to unwrap those as well. "Its good to know at least one other person cares about me." He looked to your eyes for the third time and gently held your hand in his.

"My family cares about you (Y/n). And so does the settlement. They know how important you are to me and they respect that. I mean we grew up together for gods sake." You gently squeezed his hand but didnt say anything. "I dont think I could lose you that easily." He spoke softly before continuing to unwrap you.

Neither of you spoke as he finished unwrapping you and turning on the water, waiting for it to be warm. Not hot but warm. He looked back over to you and reached up to your face, carefully peeling away the bandage. His calloused thumb softly traced around the cut that would more than likely form into a scar. Your eyes closed and you leaned softly into his hand before he pulled it away.

"Father will be happy to know that you're ok." He spoke as he helped you up. Without thinking, you started to gently shimmy out of your underwear, trying your best to not scrape any wounds with the fabric. Borhul held a blush on his cheeks as he helped you into the tub.

"Here," He hands you a bottle of medicinal soap that he's been using to clean your wounds. "Use this then once done dont stay in too long after. It's not good if they get too much water." You nodded and looked up to him to see he was looking away. "Borhul." He glances over to you and keeps his eyes locked with yours.

"Thank you."

He nods and turned his head away again. "I'm going to let father know that you're awake." You mumbled another small 'ok' as he left you to your own. A moment or two had passed when the bathroom door creaked open and Borhuls hand set something down on the counter before closing again.

Some minutes had passed as you cleaned yourself and the pretty well healed wounds. While you bathed, many questions ran through your head.

How long has it been?

What happened after you passed out?

How were you found, saved even?

You were lost in thought but the sound of the door opening make you look up. "You should hop out and dry off. Father would like to see you." He said quickly before closing the door again. You simply did as told and dried off, slipping on the pair of boxers he had brought you.

"Bora?" You called for him as you carefully hobbled out of the bathroom. Two heads turned to look at your wounded form and the called for orc made his way over to you. "Hold on, lemme..." He gently picks you up again and sets you on his kitchen counter before going to get what you assumed was bandages.

You looked over to see Orogakh staring at you. "Hey pops." He stood up and walked over to you, examining how your wounds have healed. He didnt say anything and simply pulled you into a hug. You hugged him back and looked over his shoulder to see Borhul holding bandages and some clothes that looked like his from when he was younger.

Orogakh stepped away and let his son help you. Neither of you spoke buy just looking at his face you knew exactly what he was thinking, making you smile sweetly at him. Borhul carefully bandaged some wounds that still needed to heal a bit more and slipped a pair of loose pants and a button up shirt. The shirt was a ivory white and the pants were brown. "I mostly covered the deepest wounds but the others are fine to breathe. Just try not to get them dirty." You smiled up to him and nodded. "I dont plan on making them any worse."

You said, looking up to him, still holding that smile on your face. He gently smiled as well before leaning in and hugging you again. "I'm glad you're ok..." He pulled away and turned to his father. "Should we..?" Orogakh nodded and Borhul gently took you off the counter. "Will you be ok with me giving you a ride?" He bent his knees slightly and motioned for you to hop on his back.

"I suppose. You probably wouldn't let me walk anyway." You said with a small laugh before carefully climbing onto his bare back. He adjusted so the both of you were comfortable before following his father out of the house. The instant that the three of you had left, all eyes had looked to not only you, but to Borhul carrying you.

The looks were mixed amongst the Orc camp as the camps' leader was walking along side his son carrying another, who wasn't even an Orc. Even though few looked on with an odd feeling, they were glad that you were ok. Borhul carried you all the way to town square where your three assailants were locked in pillorys. There was a small group of youngn's throwing stones at them and laughing.

"We waited till you woke up so that you could choose their punishment." Borhul gently set you on the pavement and Orogakh shooed the kids away. The three of you stood in front of the three of them, looking down on their pitiful states. The breeze blew gently, ruffling your hair. "I don't want anything bad to happen to them." Borhul scoffed and looked down to you. "Are you serious? They almost killed you (Y/n)."

You sighed and looked up to them. "All I wish is they're branded with both the murders and banishment marks and removed far away from here." He turned you to look at him. "(Y/n) they almost killed you. That's all you want to do?" You nodded. "If I wish death upon them like they did me, then I'm no better than they are. Just because I have all the power doesn't mean I will abuse it." You mumbled the last part as Borhul takes a moment to think before removing his hands from your shoulders and looking to his father.

He nodded and said, "I'll take care of them. Take (Y/n) back and relax." Borhul nodded and gently grabbed your hand. You looked up to him surprised. "What?" You shook your head. "You're just... Holding my hand." He grunts. "So what about it?" You shook your head again and the two of you slowly walked along the cobbled road back to his home.

Once the two of you arrived he pulled you close and sat the both of you on the couch. You ended up sitting super close, like thighs touching close. "Could you tell me what happened?" You asked, looking up to his eyes again. He sighs, some relief evident. "Not much had happened. I'm pretty sure we got there just as you passed out." You nod and rest your head on his shoulder, making his face light up with a blush. "You were out for three days though. The doctor said you should have woken the day after the attack so I was afraid."

There was a moment of comfortable silence before he spoke again. "So um... I... I know this is probably a bad time but... I..." Borhul hesitates heavily on what he's about to say. You look up to his eyes again and he was intensely staring at your face. "It's ok. Take your-mmhp!" He cut you off by smashing his lips into yours. You responded after your short shock had passed. A moment passed before the both of you pulled away for air.

"I think I love you." He mumbled out before going in for another kiss which you reciprocated. By the time the two of you pulled away, you found yourself straddling Borhuls thighs and his hands rested on your hips. "Hi." You said with a smile. "Hey." He said with a exceptionally pleased smile. "I just might feel the same way Bora." He smiles and kisses you again. Your hand rested on his chest as you leaned into him.

"Bora?" You said after you both pulled away. He looks up to you with a cute smile on his face. With a smile of your own, you run your fingers through his hair, combing it slightly in the process. He closes his eyes and let's out a small content hum. "Your hair is so wavy. But I guess that's what happens when it's braided all the time." You said as you played with it more. He rests his face on the spot between your neck and your shoulder and slightly pulls you closer.

"I wish we could stay like this forever."

----- 2465 (not proof read) Considering a part 2

#monster x male reader #male monster x reader #x male reader #monster male x male reader #monster male #m4m #mxm

196 notes · View notes

lazuli-bloom · 3 years

Text

Zoo Day is Today

Cartoon Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 11,275

Your first field trip after starting work as a teacher for Miss Shannon's School For Girls. A simple trip to the zoo. You even have a student's uncle there to help you chaperone. Everything was nice and planned out, surely nothing could go wrong.

Archive

--=--=--

The morning sun steadily rose but had not yet chased off the nipping chill of the night. A shiver ran down your spine and you pulled your jacket tighter over your chest. You only brought a light coat for the day. Hopefully, if you focused on your work, the chilly bite could be easier to tolerate.

You tapped your pen against the edge of the clipboard. The papers listed off groups, schedules, notes on animals, and a map. On the page of groups, you circled the list of students assigned to you. Seven girls of which you knew only two.

You had been teaching at Miss Shannon's School for a month, but you memorized the names of the two most infamous students. Claire Brewster and Betty Juice. And lucky you, the school assigned both girls to your group. How wonderful. You prayed this field trip wouldn't end up a disaster.

The girls mingled in front of the main building, eager to get onto the buses. Once you had glossed over the list, you peered over the assemblage of students. Other teachers gathered their students to line up for the bus, and you needed to do the same.

There was no sign of Claire or Betty, so you shifted your search to the others in your group. You called out the names listed as you walked the perimeter of the cluster of girls, and one by one you gathered them.

Bertha, check. Prudence, check. Mindy, Gwen, check and check.

You accounted for over half your group and given them red bands that just left three more students. Betty and Claire were still nowhere to be seen, making a Lydia Deetz the next student for you to find.

The short redheaded girl with glasses, Bertha? Or was it Prudence? Regardless, the shorter girl pointed out a dark-haired student with hair styled in a bob cut. You thanked her and left to speak with the next student.

The girl stood off to the side next to a man that you noted bore a striking resemblance to Betty. The man's wardrobe gave a sharp contrast to the prim and proper appearances the headmistress cultivated for the school. He wore a vibrant Hawaiian shirt in magenta patterned with neon green bones. Clashing with that were his shorts striped vertically in black and white bars. Rather unusual, but to each their own.

You focused back on gathering your group and get their attention with a small cough. The two stopped their conversation and turned to you, the girl giving you a pleasant smile when she did.

"Good morning, teacher."

"Good morning, ah..." You trailed off and checked your clipboard. "Lydia. How are you?"

"Good! I can't wait to get to the zoo!"

The man chimed in saying, "Kid's been excited to go all morning. 't's all she's been talking about for the last few days."

"Uncle BJ!"

The girl huffed while the man snickered with a crooked smirk. You bit your lip and fought to keep your shoulders from bouncing from your own laugh. You cleared your throat and ignored the slight pain in your cheeks from resisting a smile.

"So then, Mr...?"

"Beetleman."

"Mr. Beetleman," you said with a nod, "Will you be helping chaperone the field trip?"

"Yep!"

"Alright. Then since Lydia is in my group, you'll be with me as well." You helped Lydia get the red band on her wrist. Just two more students. "Lydia, are you by chance close to Betty Juice? You wouldn't know where she might be, would you?"

Mr. Beetleman opened his mouth only for Lydia to cut in, saying, "She's out sick!"

You frown and nod, jotting a note on the paper. "That's unfortunate." While you didn't like the idea of a student missing out on a field trip, you couldn't help the relief that washed over you. No Betty, that only left—

"Ugh! Like, what do you mean I'm stuck with Lydia and her weird friends?"

Claire Brewster.

You took in a deep breath and let it out as a slight hiss. Before you headed over to Claire, you pointed Lydia and her uncle over to the rest of your group. They made their way to join the others and you steel yourself to talk to the irritated blonde. When Claire noticed your approach, she wore a pout on her face.

"Teacher! You can't seriously expect me to be in a group with Lydia and her weird friends. Let me switch with someone else!"

As if you hadn't asked the same thing once you saw the roster for your group.

"I'm sorry, Claire. The groups have already been assigned. Miss Shannon doesn't want there to be any switching around. Now here's your band and if you could come over with the rest of the group, we can—"

"Red? Ugh! This day just keeps getting worse! Red doesn't go with my bow, or eyes, or anything! Why can't it be pink?"

"Claire, it's just a band to keep things organized. No one is going to notice or even care, I promise. Please, come over here with the rest of the group so we can get things going."

"Fine."

You hummed on your walk back, happy to have rounded up everyone. With a quick go through attendance, you marked off all the students present. Once done, you asked Mr. Beetleman to watch the girls while you turned in the attendance sheet to the headmistress. You returned and smiled at your group. "Alright, does everyone have everything they need? Lunches, spending money?"

Most of the girls nodded, while a few checked through their bags to make sure they did. After a minute, everyone had everything in order. You nodded and flipped through your clipboard.

"Alright, we'll board the buses soon. Mr. Beetleman since you'll be helping me chaperone—"

"Oh great. I'm stuck with Lydia and her grody relative."

"Claire!" You jerked your head to her with a deep frown. "That is highly disrespectful! Apologize this instant!"

Claire huffed and gestured to the man. "But he is! Just look at him!"

You narrow your eyes at the girl, then glance to Mr. Beetleman. His appearance was definitely abnormal, with eyes a tad more sunken and yellowed than what seemed healthy. Mr. Beetleman flashed you a smile where his slight overbite showed off crooked teeth. He may be a tad odd, but that was no reason to insult the man. You gave him an apologetic smile before turning back to Claire.

"Claire. Apologize to Mr. Beetleman right now or I'm going to insist that you sit out the field trip."

You tapped your foot, waiting. She groaned, rolling her eyes before she spat out a short, insincere apology. You shook your head and rubbed at your already aching temple. This was going to be a long day.

Once given the go ahead, the teachers and chaperones ushered their groups on to the buses. They assigned your group to the last of the three, and you were the last to board. The other two teachers on board sat in the back while the students scattered across the rows, clustering in the middle of the bus.

You followed your students and watched them pick their seats. Claire sat with girls from the other group. Most of the others took their seats, intermingling as well. You had shuffled into one of the front benches and noticed Lydia and her uncle had sat behind you with one empty one open as a buffer.

You scanned over the girls, all chatting and abuzz with excitement, as the bus driver pulled out from the school grounds. Before you turned back to face forward, you made brief eye contact with Mr. Beetleman. Claire's remark replayed in your head and you glanced away, frowning. That comment didn't sit right with you. You cleared your throat to get his attention and offer another apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry for earlier. Claire is... not always the best with social skills."

He shrugged with a lopsided smile. "No skin off my nose."

You gave a slight nod and glanced over to the blonde gabbing with the other students. So young and full of potential. If only she'd apply it to things other than her vanity. You shook your head and looked back to Mr. Beetleman, who had his hand over his nose.

"Are you alright?"

"Uncle BJ is fine!" Lydia said. "He just has some allergies that have been acting up. That's all."

"What the kid said." he nasally said while holding his nose.

"Oh no, do you need an antihistamine or anything? I could break one in half so you don't get too drowsy."

"Nah, I'll be fine. Thanks though, teach."

He let go of his face and gave grinned, showing you there was nothing to worry about. You covered your mouth to hide your own growing smile.

"If you're sure. But don't be afraid to ask if your allergies get worse. I have a travel first aid kit with me."

For the rest of the drive, you triple checked the schedules and your group's tour route. The first field trip you'd be going on as a teacher for the school. A simple trip to the zoo. You wanted it to go as smooth as possible.

You could still hardly believe you landed this job. It's rare for a position to open, but the last teacher in your spot left with little notice. He said he had gotten too stressed to teach anymore. But you had heard through the school gossip that it was more likely an excuse to get away from a certain student.

You shook off those thoughts. It's best not to dwell on rumors. You needed to focus on doing the best job you could.

The bus stopped at the front entrance. Outside the window, the students from the other buses waited in rows to get into the zoo. The teachers from the back stood up once the bus stopped and lead their students out. Once it was just you and your group, you got up from your seat to do the same.

You lined up your students at the end and waited for Miss Shannon to take care of the admissions. Groups were let in one at a time, and you quadruple checked the tour plan as you waited. Finally, it was your turn to go inside.

"Alrighty girls. The first stop is the penguins."

The girls' anticipation nearly hit its breaking point. They followed you like a flock of ducklings as you navigated the park. Between the map the school provided, and the boards set up for visitors, you found your way to the Arctic section. Once in that area, however was when it got a little more tricky. You mixed up the paths and ended up taking a detour by the puffins and walruses.

After those brief stops, you lead the students to the correct enclosure. The girls ran up to the divider, noses pressed to the glass, and watched the Antarctic birds. The girls moved around to watch different penguins, looking under the water level to see the ones swimming, while the ones on land preened each other. Most the students gushed over the cute birds, and you noticed Lydia off to the side bobbing along with a penguin whose attention she caught.

You hung back and smiled at the girls. It was adorable to see the students so ecstatic. Even Claire cooed at the penguins, though you heard her comment on how the penguins should totally wear cute pink dresses rather than tuxedos.

You shook your head with a roll of your eyes.

You flipped through your papers looking for the lecture notes for the penguins and notice Mr. Beetleman had taken a few steps back. His niece sprinted from one end of the glass to the other, while the penguin on the other side followed her movements. She also interspersed her laps with snapshots of the birds.

"Looks like your niece is enjoying herself."

Mr. Beetleman turned his attention towards you. He huffed a small laugh and showed off a crooked but kind half smile. "Yeah, kid's got a soft spot for animals, no matter how big, or scary, or smelly."

Your lips twitched up in a small smile.

"What about yourself, Mr. Beetleman? Any animals that you have a soft spot for?"

"I like to think of myself as quite the connoisseur of bugs. Especially beetles."

"Is that so?" You asked with a laugh. His faux posh accent caught you off guard. You coughed into your hand and did your best to ignore the pain in your cheeks from biting back a smile. "Well, you're in luck. We go through the insectarium before we break for lunch. They have a large exhibit of bugs from all over the globe."

Most of the students voiced their disgust with groans.

"Like, we have to go see gross bugs before lunch?"

You closed your eyes and took in a breath before you bothered to turn to Claire. You forced a pleasant smile and let the air out through your nose in a short huff. "Yes. We're going through the insectarium later—"

The girls groaned and made more disgusted sounds.

"—I know not everyone likes bugs, but they are an important part of nature and we're going to be learning about them."

Most of the students made disgusted faces. Mr. Beetleman and his niece looked to be the only ones interested in the exhibit. You hummed and flipped over your papers to get back on track. Might as well start the lesson part of the tour, since everyone had their attention on you.

You read off the prepared notes, and prompted the students with questions. The short bookish girl answered most of the questions, though you encouraged the other girls to answer when they could.

Once wrapped up with the penguins, you—with the aid of Mr. Beetleman—ushered the students to the next animal on the schedule. Next up was the polar bears, which were technically Arctic and not Antarctic, but hey the zoo only had so much room available.

You arrived at the polar bears' enclosure to find them lazing. Two sat on the land in large piles of snow, while the third floated in the water. Like before, you hung back to let the students watch, but they were far less engaged this time.

Mr. Beetleman stepped back once more to let his niece watch and get photos from all angles of the bears. You hunted for the next lesson in your notes but spied Mr. Beetleman step back a tad more than last time. You paid it little mind until he said, "With all this excitement it's almost un-bear-able," under his breath.

You sputtered a laugh and raised a hand to your mouth to hold back more. Despite your attempt, however, you caught his ear. He looked to you with a half smile showing off crooked teeth.

"You like that one? Maybe you and me aren't as much of polar opposites as I thought! Seems like all these arctic animals are helping break the ice!"

You bit your lip and pressed your knuckle to your mouth, but you couldn't stop your shoulders from bouncing as you snickered. You didn't want to disturb the other visitors, but he made that difficult with his goofy puns and cute face.

You took in a breath to let out gently, only for it to get chopped up from more laughter. There were lessons to be taught. You needed to get yourself under control. Poised and proper, you could do this. You coughed and cleared your throat as quietly as possible.

You gave your fellow chaperone a playful glare before you gathered the girls to a central spot for the lesson. One or two of the students yawned as you read off the notes. You gestured to the bears as you read another factoid.

"Polar bears are the largest carnivo—what on earth?"

Your train of thought crashed when you looked out at the bears. The two on land stood on their hind legs and dived into the water. All three met in the deepest part of the pool and swam in a circle with an eerily human synchrony.

You couldn't bring yourself to look away, afraid it would break the spell. But you had to know if anyone else saw that too. You pried away and found your students and many other visitors had their eyes glued to the bears. Good to know others took notice of the bears' swimming skills.

"Wow! I never knew they could swim like that!" said a taller brunette from your group.

You watched the bears again. They swam in circles, each bear matching the strokes of the others; left, then right, spin, then dive. You were at a loss for words. To witness such a spontaneous act from them, and done so well, it was as if it were magic.

The routine lasted a minute, ending with the bears looking around, confused. Whatever showboating spirit overtook them, it had left. Even they didn't know what had possessed them to do that.

You blinked a few times and gathered your thoughts. The lesson continued, but the girls and you glanced at the bears several times throughout the rest. The polar bears, however, returned to lazing around their enclosure. When you finished the lesson, you announced the next stop.

"Okay, next stop is the seals!"

On the walk over, the students chattered among themselves, still baffled by the polar bears' routine. Mr. Beetleman laughed with his niece, though you couldn't hear the topic. He caught you looking back, and you whipped forward to focus on leading the way.

Much like the last few times, the girls rushed to the glass to watch while you and Mr. Beetleman stayed back. You kept your eyes forward, watching over both the students and the seals. Despite your focus, you still noticed Mr. Beetleman taking a few side steps in your direction.

"I see this one gets the seal of approval from the kids."

You press your lips tight, redirecting your laugh as more stuttered exhales. With a smile growing on your face, you turned to get a better look at the man and find him sporting a grin of his own.

You cleared your throat and in the most deadpan tone you could muster, you said, "Mr. Beetleman, that has got to be the seal-iest thing I've ever heard."

He blinked and his features sank a bit, only for his grin to grow back even stronger. "Animal humor, you know I love it!"

You let out a giggle and shake your head. "So how are you and your niece enjoying the trip so far, Mr. Beetleman?"

"Lydia's loving it, and I can't complain much. But You don't have to keep bein' so formal. Ya can just call me BJ."

"BJ? Hmm, may I ask what it's short for?"

He stiffened at your question before he reached up to scratch the back of his neck. "Short for? Yeah, it's uh—"

"Uncle Ben!" You and Mr. Beetleman turned to his niece Lydia, waving him over. She pointed to one seal flopping around on the land part of its enclosure. "Isn't it so cute?"

He walked over to Lydia. She took photos, some with her uncle posing in them. You chuckled to yourself and gave the girls one more minute before the next lesson.

Afterwards you moved on to the next animal in the arctic section, followed by another, and another. Soon your group made it through the entire section and moved on to the next. From the Arctic to South America, followed by Europe, then Africa.

In between your lessons as the students gawked and cooed at the various animals, you laughed more and more at Mr. Beetleman—no, BJ's jokes. You even got him to laugh at a few of your own jokes. There was a childish sense of pride and glee that swelled in you any time you got him to laugh.

"You know, teach, seeing all these lions is giving me the urge to sing." BJ said as the kids watched the large cats.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, breaking out into 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight' is just a whim away. A whim away. A whim away."

You bit your knuckle and shook your head at him as you fought back tears and laughter.

"Trust me, teach, I ain't lion. It's a real paw-blem."

You couldn't hold back your fit of laughter anymore and snorted louder than you'd like. A few of the girls looked back at you and BJ, and you hid your burning face behind your clipboard. You take a few quick breaths to calm yourself, fighting the smile on your lips as you did. Once calm again, you shoot the man a playful glare.

"You are the worst, have you no since of pride?"

He beamed at you and you call the girls over to get the lesson started before he can crack more jokes. As you went through the last lesson of the African section, you calmed more, but your smile stayed plastered on your face. Once the lesson wrapped up and you asked the last of the questions, you announce the next destination.

"Time to head to the insectarium."

Most of the girls groan and make disgusted protests. You let out a sigh and open your mouth to say something, but BJ spoke up first.

"You heard your teacher, kids. Gotta get going!"

BJ ushered the kids along to get them moving, and you knitted your brows in a mix of amusement and bewilderment. BJ had helped keep the students together and moving along, sure, but that was the first time he did so with any sense of diligence. The man must really like bugs.

You rolled your eyes with a smile and lead the group. With the map on your clipboard you follow the asphalt path to the insectarium, weaving around the growing crowds as you made your way there. Unlike the other animal enclosures, the insectarium was a building all to itself. A man exited the building, towing two young boys, and blew passed you. You huffed and held open the door as BJ ushered in the group of less than enthused girls.

The warm, muggy air hit you as you followed the girls inside the building. Countless displays of bugs filled the room, lining the bright orange walls and placed in various rows. Signs throughout the room showed pictures of spiders, praying mantises, centipedes, and scorpions, as well as butterflies, dragonflies, and beetles. While the floor was spacious and open, the displays formed a few nooks and crannies that obscured parts.

The students stayed clustered around you, not that eager to venture a glance at the displays. Most of them, anyway. Lydia grabbed her uncle's hand and pulled him away to a section full of spiders. Two girls you noticed hung around Lydia, the tall brunette and short redhead, also mustered up the courage to break off and peruse the exhibits as well.

The remaining three followed you and didn't dare approach any of the glass displays. You hummed and scanned the room. Perhaps if you showed them the tamer and prettier looking insects, the students would be more engaged. You gestured to them and guided them through the displays.

Brightly colored butterflies and gem-like dragonflies darted in their large cases off to the side, away from the more creepy crawly bugs. The girls peered around you and took a few steps over to see the enchanting patterns on some of the butterflies' wings.

Except for Claire.

"Teacher! I don't want to be here. Like, it's just a bunch of gross bugs."

"Bugs are very important, Claire. Here, do you like flowers?"

"Well duh. Flowers are pretty and they smell nice."

"Well, flowers need to be pollinated in order for there to be more flowers. And do you know how flowers get pollinated?"

"No."

"Bugs. Bees, and butterflies, and even some beetles. They go from flower to flower and get pollen all over. Which helps the flowers make more flowers. Bugs are an essential part of a lot of other animals' diets. If there weren't any bugs a lot of animals would go hungry."

"Gross, who would want to eat bugs!"

"Birds, lizards, fish. Heck, even people sometimes."

"Ew! Nasty! I would never eat a bug. Like, why eat that when I could have something fancy like lobster?"

You bit your lip and held back a laugh. This poor, naïve child. You debated on whether you should tell her. Before you decided, Claire huffed and marched over to watch at the butterflies with the others. It was probably best to keep quiet on the matter, but boy was that child in for a rude wake up call.

You sigh and left to check on the others. The brunette and redhead—Prudence and Bertha, or was it Bertha and Prudence? Which ever way it was, the pair watched an orchid mantis climb flower stocks. The shorter one in glasses smiled at you and read out loud the plaques for the orchid mantis. You asked them a few things on the insect, and the brunette chimed in with some answers. You praised the two and smiled.

After jotting notes, you scanned the room for Lydia and BJ, only to frown when you saw no trace of them. You tapped your pen against the clipboard and scanned the room again. Claire was still with Mindy and Gwen at the butterflies. Bertha and Prudence were right next to you. So where were Lydia and BJ?

You walked through the rows of exhibits searching for Lydia, but there wasn't any sign of her. Prickles of fear crawled up your spine, and you hurried your pace. You tapped your pen faster against your board to let out your building anxiety, but it never spent enough energy. Once you looped back to Prudence and Bertha, you asked them if they had seen Lydia and her uncle.

The redhead—Prudence—pointed out where she last saw Lydia. You thanked her and weaved your way through the exhibits as fast as you could without running. The displays jutted out to form a nook tucked away from the rest of the floor. At one display, with eyes glued to the tarantula in the case, was your missing student. You put a hand to your chest and let out a relieved sigh. The sound caught the dark-haired girl's attention, and she waved you over to watch with her.

"Teacher look! Isn't she pretty!"

You crouched to look at the fuzzy arachnid meandering across the gravel floor of its enclosure. Dark brown hairs covered its body save for the legs. Stripes ran down its legs in long thin bars of the same dark brown and contrasted with ones in ivory. You looked at the name for the specimen and read it.

"The Costa Rican zebra tarantula, or striped-knee tarantula. I see where your uncle gets his fashion advice." You said. It got a laugh out of her, which got you chuckling as well. After a quick sweep of the area you realize BJ wasn't there. Your lips sank into a slight frown as you hummed in thought. "Speaking of, where is he?"

"Oh! Um. Uncle BJ said he had to go to the little boy's room."

A thunderous clatter cut through the air, followed by shattering glass and screams. A wave of icy fear crashed over you. You told Lydia to stay put as you bolted around the corner to see what happened.

Your eyes grew to saucers. Toppled displays, shattered cases, and an angry swarm of bugs filled the room. Those with wings whizzed by, while others spread out from the crash sites as an infestation.

Your students and the other patrons scrambled to get any distance possible from the bugs. You bit your lip. What do you do? What can you do? Keeping the girls safe was your utmost responsibility. You tightened your grip on the clipboard charge to the group, swatting at any bugs daring to cross you.

"Girls! Outside!"

You darted straight for the front door and gave the group a sharp look. The students wore various nervous expressions, not wanting to go through the swarm of bugs to reach the door.

"NOW!"

Bertha and Prudence were the first of your girls to budge. They ran out, followed by the other patrons, then the last of your group. You ran out hot on their heels and got your girls grouped together. You counted heads—Bertha, Prudence, Claire, Gwen, Mindy. Five. Where?

Your heart sank.

"Stay out here. Stay away from the doors, get back and wait for me or a Zookeeper."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and pivoted. You rushed back in and find the swarm had spread to fill the now empty room. Among the infestation you could see bright warning coloration. Whether the colors of true venomous insects or mimics, you didn't want to hang around and find out. You held up your clipboard and took in a few steadying breaths.

"Lydia! Where are you?"

"Over here!"

You rushed over to the voice, avoiding as many bugs as possible. Despite that, they grazed your exposed skin and buzzed passed your ear. One of them even bumped up against your lip. You pushed your shivers down, dead set on getting your student out of there.

You looped around the displays to find the path of least resistance, only to stop dead in your tracks when you get to Lydia. Wasps, several of them, all buzzing between you and Lydia. You tapped your nails against the clipboard as your mind raced to work out what to do.

You bit down on the clipboard, hard enough to hold it, and stripped off your jacket. You shuffled things, so the board was under your arm and held the jacket in both your hands.

"Lydia. I'm going to count to three, and you're going to run over to me. Okay? Run as fast as you can."

She nodded, and you counted.

"One."

"Two."

"Three!"

Lydia bolted over to you, getting the wasp's attention. You threw your coat over her and scooped her into your arms. Once you had a hold of her, you made a mad dash to the front door, as angry buzzing chased you. You reached out for the handle, yanking it as hard as you could, only for it to stay closed. You held Lydia tighter and pulled again. Still nothing.

"Shit. Why would they lock the fucking door!" A sharp stabbing pain shot through your calf, and you buckled some from the pain. "Shit!"

"Teacher? Is—"

"Shi—um sorry. It's okay. Just got to find another way out."

You turned to search for the emergency exit and winced when you moved your stung leg. The buzz of insect wings beat against your ears, and you swore it was getting worse. You wanted to cover your ears, but that wasn't an option while you held Lydia.

"Ribbit."

You flinched and found a fairly large frog munching away on what remained of a wasp. The chihuahua sized frog sat staring up at you for a moment with bright yellow eyes. Its pattern and coloration reminded you of a poison dart frog, but no species of them grew bigger than a few inches at most.

Once the monochrome striped frog ate the last of the wasp, it hopped away on long legs ending with bright red toes. Its tongue lashed out and snatched more bugs, devouring them in seconds and reducing the swarm at an impressive rate.

As the frog thinned out the bug population, you carried Lydia towards the emergency exit on the far side of the building. A long green blur shot out in front of you, and you flinched back with a squeak. You glanced to where the blur came from to find the frog retracting its striped green tongue with a freshly caught beetle.

"Teacher? What's going on?"

"It's alright, this frog just startled me."

"A frog?" Lydia asked, squirming in your arms. She pulled down your coat to look and when they made eye contact, the frog croaked at her too.

"He must be in froggy heaven with all these bugs out. But we still need to get out to the others. And wait, where's your uncle? Oh no. Is he still in here too?"

"I'm sure uncle BJ is fine! He's probably just... getting something to eat after he went to the restroom."

You hummed, still worried something could have happened, but you still needed to get Lydia and yourself out. The frog croaked again before it hopped away to catch more lunch. You huffed with a small smile and continued to the exit.

Once outside with the door shut behind you, you set Lydia down and walked her to the rest of the group. The girls clamored around you as you approached, asking to know what happened. When your responses didn't give them the answers they wanted, some students switched to bombarding Lydia with questions.

"Girls, please. I'm not sure what all caused the bugs to get out. I'm sure the zookeepers can handle it from here."

"Teacher, was it scary to go back in there?"

You offered a half smile and gave the students a few answers, hoping they'd more readily follow instructions with a sated curiosity. Once they asked their questions, you asked one of your own, wanting to know what happened while you were getting Lydia.

Apparently one zookeeper, thinking everyone had cleared out the building, locked the front door before running off to get help. You pressed your lips tight when you heard that. On one hand, you understood the keeper's actions, but on the other they should have poked their head in to at least check!

"Hey teach, everything alright?"

You whipped around to find BJ sporting a sheepish grin.

"Mr. Beetleman! Oh, thank goodness you're okay. Yes, everything is alright. Everyone is here." You said and heaved out a sigh. You glanced back to the girls. "Alright, let's all sit down and make sure no one else got bit or stung."

You guided the students over to benches on the side and had them sit. One by one you examined them, checking arms, legs, faces and necks. Once you checked over every student, you breathed a sigh of relief. No one had gotten bitten by any of the bugs. You took a seat and tended to your sting when there was a yelp from one student.

"Like, ew! Something bit me!"

You got up to look over Claire again and found a mosquito on her upper arm. You pinched it between your fingers and dusted it off her.

"Ew! Gross!"

"Well, it's gone now. You can wash off your arm before we break for lunch."

Claire pouted, and you did your best not to show the flicker of annoyance on your face. She's just a child and the whole bug escape had everyone on edge. You blew out a small breath and went back to tending to your minor injury.

Once washed off and slapped with a bandage, you got up and stretched your leg. It still hurt, but was tolerable to wait for the painkillers to take effect.

The staff returned shortly after and pushed everyone further back. You asked if they needed you to stay and give any testimony, but the gruff staff member just told you to leave the area. Rude.

You huffed at him and pivoted to march away, ushering the girls away. If he needed nothing from you, then so be it. The girls needed to get to lunch, anyway. As you guided the girls away, the man let out a shout. You looked over your shoulder to see him swatting at the air, likely being honed in on by a few mosquitoes. You huffed once more and looked forward. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed BJ chuckling to himself with a few glances back of his own.

The school organized for everyone to meet for lunch in the same picnic spot. When you arrived, you got the kids to wash up before heading to the tables for lunch. The group scattered and mingled with the other groups already dining. You smiled only for it to fall as you looked for a seat. The students took up most of the tables, with the other teachers taking up one of their own. And the teachers' table was so crowded, asking to sit there would just be awkward. You'd only been teaching at the school for a month and had yet to make friends with any of the other teachers. Sure, you were professional and polite, but that didn't mean you were much more than acquaintances.

An empty table off to the side sat a tad ways away from the other tables. You hummed to yourself and walked over to claim it. As you mindlessly nibbled away at your meal, you watched over the other tables to make sure the girls didn't get too rowdy.

"Excuse me teacher, may we sit with you?"

You snapped out of your trance and found Lydia smiling at you and still wearing your jacket. She held her uncle's hand and pulled him closer to the table. You blinked and swallowed your bite of food with a nod.

"Oh, uh, sure. I don't mind."

She grinned and sat diagonally to you, leaving her uncle to sit directly across from you. Lydia set her lunch box on the table and took off your jacket. She haphazardly folded it and leaned over the table to hand it back to you.

"Thank you for saving me. Those wasps were furious."

"Yeah, I kinda got the point back there. My leg still hurts a bit. Oh, and um... If you could not mention my more colorful word choices to anyone, I would appreciate that."

BJ tilted his head and asked, "Colorful word choices? Do bugs normally make ya shout out the colors of the rainbow? Ooh! What color would you say for spiders?"

"Uncle BJ, that's not what they meant."

"It's not?"

You bit your knuckle, trying and failing to hide your laughter from bubbling out. The pair took notice, and you waved them off while you fought to stop laughing.

"I'm sorry," you said in between laughs, "You two are just really cute."

Lydia giggled into her hand while BJ scrunched up his face and stuck his tongue out. You bit harder on your knuckle as your shoulders bounced. How were they so cute?

You got your laughter to subside and resumed eating your lunch. Lydia did the same, but BJ had nothing in front of him.

"Are you not going to eat, Mr. Beetleman?"

"Nah, I got some grub back when we were at the bug house. And ya really don't have to keep calling me that. Like I said, just call me BJ."

"Right. I'm sorry Mr. Beetle—um, BJ."

A smile stretched across his face as his nickname rolled off your tongue. You smiled back with a giggle.

Lydia looked back over her shoulder and said, "I think I hear Bertha and Prudence calling me to go sit with them! Thanks again, teacher."

She dashed off with her lunch a moment later. Curiously, it looked like her friends had only just rounded the corner. But you couldn't blame the kid for wanting to sit with her peers over adults.

"So, um, BJ. Are you okay after the little... insect fiasco? I'm sorry I forgot to ask earlier, I was just so worried the girls might have gotten hurt."

"Oh yeah, babes, I'm fine, no need to worry about me."

You blinked once or twice with a growing warmth on your cheeks. The new moniker caught you off guard. You murmured the word to yourself and felt the warmth intensify. Another giggle bubbled up in you, and this time you didn't suppress it.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay, too. Though I missed you while we were going through the insectarium. I would have grassed you'd hop at the opportunity to make all the insect puns you could, Mr. Beetle-man."

"Nah, jokes like that really bug me."

"That's hard to bee-lieve."

"Glad my joke didn't fly over your head."

"I'm gnat that gullible."

He snickered with a grin, showing off crooked teeth. That, strangely enough, suited him. You couldn't help but join in with a chuckle of your own. He certainly was cute, even if he didn't agree. Your laughter trailed off a moment later with a warm hum.

"So, BJ, do you live in Peaceful Pines or somewhere close?"

"Eeh... My place is kinda close, but hard to get to. It's this out of the way neighborhood that you've probably never heard of."

"I suppose so, considering I'm pretty new to Peaceful Pines myself. What do you do for a living?"

"Oh. Well... I~ 'm... A musician!"

"A musician?"

"Yeah! In between gigs right now."

"What do you play?"

"Better question is what can't I play! Guitar, drums, keyboard, ukulele, armpit!"

That last one got a sudden laugh out of you, and you bit your lip to stop your abrupt laughter. "My, that's quite the assortment of instruments." BJ's smile stretched at your compliment and you couldn't help but smile back. "Have you written any of your own songs?"

"Oh yeah! Loads of songs! Smells Like Ten Spirits, Ghoul Is In The Hearse, Boo-hemian Rhapsody."

"Sounds spooky. I wouldn't mind hearing you play sometime," you said with a small giggle.

Whatever he planned on saying died in his throat, and he pressed his lips tight for a minute. You could have sworn that his pale tone flushed with a bit more color at that moment. Which honestly got you to giggle more.

"Really?"

"Of course! I'd love to hear you play! I love all kinds of music. What sorts of genres do you play? Rock? Metal? You mentioned a keyboard, do you play any electronic?"

He glanced away and rubbed the back of his neck, still sporting more color than normal. But he wore a smile on his face, so that's good.

"Ah, you know, a bit of this and a bit of that. I don't know what genre they'd actually fall under."

"Well, I'd still love to hear it."

"Heh, yeah. Maybe sometime."

You smiled and took a few more bites of your lunch. Between bites you asked about the town and what was there. Sure you knew the bigger things like where the grocery store was, but you had yet to venture out and explore Peaceful Pines. BJ made outlandish claims concerning the town, like how he and his niece set up a store one time and everyone in town clamored to buy from them. You rolled your eyes and listened to his yarn, smiling as he got invested into telling his stories.

When lunch ended you rounded up your group, the other teachers doing the same. Some girls grumbled over having to part with their friends in other groups—Claire—most other students fell in line with little fuss.

As the students cleared out from the tables, other zoo patrons overtook them. One group being a man with two boys loudly griping something or other about schools. You shook your head and focused on looking after your students.

After counting everyone, you lead the group to finish your tour through the zoo. The next stop on the schedule had you at a smaller farm-like section. You guided the girls to the front of the gated area and lead them into the main pen. Various cute domesticated animals stood around with the odd zookeeper milling around, supervising.

"Alright girls, you have some time to go see the animals. Please be gentle!"

The kids scattered, seeking different animals. As they left, you overheard Claire voice her disgust regarding the smell of the stinky farm animals. You let out a sigh and rubbed at your temple.

"I don't get what she's complaining about. This place smells great!"

You sputtered a laugh and glanced sidelong at BJ. Your lips curled into a half smile as you shook your head.

"BJ, you are—a very strange man."

"Hey babes, 'Strange' is my middle name."

"Is it now? Ben J. Strange Beetleman?"

"Uh... Yep. That's my name don't wear it out!"

"You're a goof." you said laughing. You scanned over the large pen and saw the students with animals. At least this time you had an unobstructed view of all of them.

"So, teach, how you liking your job with the school?"

You blinked and glanced at him before you thought over an answer. "It's been tricky, but I'm extremely thankful to have gotten this job. I still can't believe the last teacher just left though."

"Mr. Greener?"

"Yes actually. You knew him?"

"Yeah, he was a piece of shit! Lyds put a lot of work into a group project but because he hated me—my other niece Betty, he flailed them!"

"Oh dear, please try not to let the girls hear that language," you said. The distance between you and the girls made it unlikely that any of them could hear your conversation. But you'd still wanted to be careful. "I'm terribly sorry to hear that, though. Did you speak to the headmistress to get your nieces' grades corrected?"

"Eh. Sorta. Except I went and saw Mr. Greener personally."

"I hope he was reasonable."

"Yeah. Nothing a bit of juicing couldn't solve."

"J-juicing?" you asked, tilting your head. "Like, you went out for drinks?"

He flinched and rubbed the back of his head. BJ shifted his weight from one leg to the other before he pointed a thumb in Lydia's direction. "Something like that. Hey, I'm going to check on Lyds."

"Oh, of course. I should check on the other girls too."

He nodded and jogged over to his niece and her friends. He was far enough away that you couldn't make out what he and the girls were saying. Whatever it was, the girls giggled, and BJ ran his fingers through his pale blond hair as he glanced away.

You chuckled to yourself and looked over your clipboard. As you flipped through the pages, a loud bleat came from behind you. A lamb sneaked up to you in search of affection. You knelt to dote on the small lamb and it bleated at you more. After you cooed at the baby for a minute you stood back up, you still needed a to check on the students.

You circled around the petting zoo pen and counted each of the girls. A bonus of your walk was the chance to find other animals on their lonesome and in need of pets. Claire and a girl with a ponytail found rabbits to hold. One student was with a small flock of chickens, while Lydia and her friends gave a goat love and affection.

You made it to a corner of the pen away from most of the other animals save for a lone donkey and resting ducks. You smiled to the donkey and stepped closer, gently reaching out a hand to give the cutie a pat on the head.

The donkey enjoyed the attention and butted its head into your hand more. You giggled and scratched the top of its mane, which appeared to be significantly lighter than what was common for donkeys. Then again, given that it also had zebra stripes, it may be a hybrid.

You left to speak with the girls only for the donkey to follow you. It nudged your free hand asking for more pets, and you laughed. You broke every time and gave the little donkey more pats and scratches as you made your way to check in with the students.

You got over to Lydia, Bertha, and Prudence and greeted them. After a quick hello to them, you end up getting another nudge from the donkey. You caved yet again and patted its head.

Lydia gave the donkey an accusing look, and it responded with a huff. You chuckled at the exchange.

"Is something the matter?"

"No teacher, I'd just keep an eye on that donkey if I were you."

"Oh, he's harmless," you said and bent down to pet the animal's head, "he just likes the attention. Doubt this poor guy is as popular as the other animals here."

You scratch along the back of its ear down to the back of its jaw. The donkey, in response, leaned its cheek into your palm.

"Such a sweetheart."

It blew its lips at you and got a laugh out of you.

"No? You sure?" It huffed at you and you scratched its cheek more. "Alright, have it your way."

You gave it one more pat on the head before you stood. The donkey, despite its chagrin, still followed you. Throughout your check in, the striped donkey nudged at you, demanding more affection. You checked in with Gwen amid the chickens, then proceeded to Mindy and Claire.The pair each cradled a bunny. You greeted them as you walked up and asked how they were doing. The donkey took a few steps closer to Claire and brayed loudly in her face. It startled the rabbit she held, causing it to squirm out of her arms and hit the ground running.

"Ugh! You stupid, ugly thing! You scared off my cute little bunny!"

You took a step, wanting to get her to calm down in case she got the animals upset. Before you could, the donkey brayed in her face again and dropped to the dirt. It rolled on the ground and kicked up an enormous dust cloud that got in your eyes. The girls started coughing, and you ushered them away from the donkey, enjoying his dirt bath.

"Come on, let's see if you can get the bunny back. Or maybe there's another animal here you'd like to play with."

The blonde huffed as she adjusted her bow. She said nothing and marched off in search of another rabbit to hold. You sighed and spared a glance at the donkey wallowing. It rolled onto its legs, tucking them under its body, and looked your way before it blew a raspberry at you.

When the time came to head to the next destination, you got the students to line up near the entrance of the petting zoo. Lydia and her uncle lagged behind, and you swept the area to see where they might have gone off to. The only real hiding spot would be the large open barn.

You turned a corner and could hear BJ's voice before you saw him. "What? I'm telling you, Lyds, it was an act! I was just playing the part."

You stepped closer and cleared your throat to get the pair's attention. Both their heads jerked your way, and you gave a half smile. "It's time to go. We need to get to the Asian section of animals next."

Lydia's face lit up, and she grabbed BJ's hand. She pulled him along, saying, "Let's go! I can't wait to see pandas!"

You shook your head as she dragged him passed you. However, you called after them when you got a look at BJ's back.

"Goodness BJ, did you fall down? You're covered in dirt."

You closed the gap between you and dusted off his back. Some of the light brown dirt came off, but the shirt needed to go through the wash to get off the rest of it. Once you wiped off all the dirt you could, you smiled at him and lead the way back to the others.

You held the gate open for everyone. The girls chatted among themselves, still gushing about the cute animals. As BJ passed by, you noticed his face flushed again. You hoped his allergies weren't too severe, but he never asked for an antihistamine, so they must have been tolerable.

You fished through your bag for the bottle and bumped into the arm of a man. You stepped to the side and apologized. His sunburnt features twisted into a sneer. He said nothing as he walked with his two screaming boys into the petting zoo. You tapped your finger against a metal piece on your bag before you hurried off to get back ahead of your group.

You lead the group through the other continents, showing the students animals from Asia followed by North America. You and BJ kept up your jokes while the girls watched the different animals on the tour. To your surprise, BJ even sprinkled in a few more questions about yourself between jokes.

You shared your favorite movies with him, a story about an awful vacation you had a few years back, and what insects you were fond of the most. BJ then told you his own answers. Like how The Exorcist was his favorite comedy, he hated trips to his aunt and uncle's place, and how beetles were his absolute favorite bugs. No surprise on that last one.

You lead the group to the last of the continents for your tour. Your chest ached as you counted the handful of animals left to visit, but you put on a smile and lead the students through the Australian part of the zoo. The girls cooed at the kangaroos and flinched away from crocodiles in the middle of their own lunch. BJ even flinched away from the large perentie lizard that, as far as you could tell, was just soaking up the sun in a nice little sandy spot. When you got to the last animal on the list, the girls rushed to the railing.

"Hey! Don't climb on the railing! Get down from there!"

"But like, I can't see the koala bears!"

"I said get down Claire. And they're not bears."

The girl did as told, but she groaned and griped. You frowned, but let it be so long as she nor the others climbed up again. The kids had trouble getting good vantage points, but with time everyone found spots to watch the koalas. Once the kids settled, BJ stepped back to crack a few more jokes with you.

"Goodness, BJ, you sure have a vast pool of jokes to pull from."

He cracked a half-smirk-half-smile at you. "Well, it's nothing but koala-ety jokes from me babes."

You laughed harder and caught yourself a moment later with a cough into your fist. "BJ, I've been meaning to ask; do you help chaperone for the school often?"

"Not really. Came this time cause Lyds was beggin' me to come along with her. Sweet girl, wants to spend as much time with her uncle as she can."

You smiled and looked back at the girls. Only for your blood to chill. "Claire!"

Your shout shocked the blonde scaling the bars. She lost her grip and fell back onto the ground. You scowl and march over to her. With your hands on your hips, you tapped your foot, waiting for her to get back to her feet.

"I told you not to climb the railing. What if you fell in?"

"But I can't see them!"

"If you won't listen to instructions, you can stand back next to me."

"Ew! Gross."

Claire wasn't happy in the slightest, and neither were you. You stood closer to the railing so Claire could still see. However, standing with her put a stop to your banter with BJ. You sighed and mindlessly checked over your clipboard for the last lesson.

A few minutes later you rattled off the educational part of the tour. It didn't last long, only five minutes, and once you finished reading, that was it. No more lessons. No more tour.

"Alright. That's it. We got a bit of time left before we need to head back to the buses."

"Teacher?" the tall brunette said. "Can we go by the gift shop? I want to get something for my mom."

You checked the map. It was on the way to the buses, so you didn't see any harm in perusing the shop for a while. You nodded, and the girls got excited. You showed BJ the location of the shop and guided the kids there.

After the twists and turns of the zoo pathways, and weaving through the growing number of patrons attending the zoo, your group makes it to the gift shop closest to the front gate.

You crossed into the shop where colorful souvenirs stacked high on every wall. Shirts in every color of the rainbow lined two of the wall, along with hats and tote bags. Stuffed animals of all sorts piled into the shelves of another part of the wall. Display stands covered most of the sales floor, packing in as much products as the building could hold. The girls scatted the instant you stepped inside, each drawn to different areas of the store. You rolled your eyes and strolled through the shop, interested to see if anything jumped out at you.

Claire and Mindy played with the plushies. The two pulled the smaller toys from the shelves and checked each one. As you passed by, Mindy asked you to check the price of the large giraffe toy on top of one of the floor displays. You found the tag of the toy nearly as tall as her and told her the steep price. She frowned and hugged the smaller giraffe toy in her arms tighter.

She went back to playing with Claire, and you moved on to check on the other girls. Bertha, Prudence and Gwen examined tumbled rocks that sat in a large bin. Prudence meticulously inspected rocks before deciding whether to place in the velvet pouch. Bertha and Gwen, in contrast, didn't scrutinize the rocks they put in their velvet pouches.

You passed them by with a smile and wondered to a corner of the shop stocked with candy. Odd that none of your girls browsed that section.

You shrugged to yourself and looked over the selection. Packages of chocolates, bags of gummies, jars filled with rock candy, and many, many more types of sweets crammed into that corner display. You grabbed one thing for yourself and notice peculiar lollipops next to it. The longer you looked at the lollipops, the more you thought it a good idea to buy one as well.

You grabbed one and took your selections up to the register to pay. The cashier rang up your items, and you handed them the payment as a booming voice cut through the air. You and most everyone in the shop turned to find a sunburnt man jostling two rowdy boys into the store. You sighed but turned back to finish your transaction. Not your circus, not your monkeys.

Once paid for, you take your candies, and head over to check on the last two members of the group. Lydia and her uncle compared boxes of solid white figurines in need of painting. You glanced over the various sets for sale, dinosaurs, birds, savanna animals, fish. Lydia held a box of the dinosaurs and looked it over with a slight frown.

"Can't decide which one you want?" You asked.

"I was hoping they'd have the one with bugs. I can never find that one."

You hummed and looked over the shelf. Birds, birds, fish, dinosaurs, birds, oh? You leaned closer and pulled out the front kits, handing them off to BJ. You grabbed the kit from way in the back and handed that one to Lydia.

"Deadly voo! I can't believe you found it!"

"They always hide the good stuff in the back."

"Thank you!" She rushed off to the register, clutching her prize. You chuckled and turned to BJ, still holding the stack of other kits. "Oh dear. Here." You helped him put the kits back on the shelf and freed up his arms. "Sorry about that."

"Nah, you're fine. Plus, you helped Lyds get that kit she's been wanting."

You breathed out a small laugh and gave him a half smile as you fiddled with something in your coat pocket. "Oh!" You pulled out the lollipop and handed it to him. "Thought you might like this since you said you were a 'connoisseur of bugs'."

He studied the lollipop, where the transparent pink candy encased a whole cricket. BJ grew a lopsided smile on his face and he put the candy in his shirt's chest pocket.

"Thanks babes! Save that for later."

"What do you think you're doing? Get out of the way, you brat!" The booming voice from earlier cut through the room again.

You spun around and find the man glaring down at Claire and Mindy. Hackles raised, you darted straight over to your students. You pulled the girls behind you and away from the upset man.

"Is there a problem?" you asked in a tone so sharp it could have cut diamonds.

"Yeah, these stupid girls of yours are in my way."

"Sir. I'm sure if you had asked politely they would have moved."

The man leaned to sneer at you. The faint stench of alcohol drifted on his breath. You glared back with your nostrils flared.

"Ow! Hey quit it!"

You break eye contact with the man to find the other girls getting pelted with rocks by the man's two rowdy boys.

"Stop that this instant!" you barked

"Hey, don't you go telling my boys what to do!"

"It's showtime!"

The lights flickered, casting the entire store in shadow for a moment. When the lights turned back on, the head of the giraffe toy had lowered to separate you and the man. The toy faced the man, and you swore it leaned in closer to him and said, "Hey, how's it going."

The toy's head swung at the man, decking him square in the face. The man reeled back and stumbled to the floor. You took that opportunity to remove yourself and grabbed the girls' shoulders to usher them to the other side of the store. You left them with Lydia up front by the cashier—on the phone with what sounded like security.

A deep scream bellowed out. Stuffed animals covered the man on the floor. He squirmed, but couldn't sit up, let alone get to his feet. You spared a disgusted glower at him before darting over to round up the other half of your group.

The boys chased your students into a corner and pelted the girls with their arms full of rocks. You grit your teeth and barked at the two to move. The boys turned. The younger of the two stuck out his tongue while the other said they didn't have to listen to you.

A second later, the boys screamed out and dropped the rocks. Beetles crawled up the two's arms and they both frantically flung their arms to get the bugs off them. The younger started wailing for his dad—still pinned to the floor by stuffed animals. The boys ran over to their father and you grabbed the girls to escort them to the rest of your group.

BJ stood with the other half of the group, laughing at the misfortune of the disaster family. You got the girls accounted for, triple checking you had everyone, and asked the cashier if you needed to stay. The poor kid looked like a deer in the headlights. They couldn't be more than a year out of high school. The cashier made another call and after which they said it was alright for your group to leave.

From there you lead the group back to the front gates and met up with the rest of the school. It wasn't long after that you and the girls boarded the bus. Once you sat, your head started swimming as the last bit of adrenaline drained out of you. It was maybe ten minutes into the drive home that you let out a deep breath and tried to collect your thoughts.

"Are you okay, teacher?"

You sat up and looked back to the row behind you. Lydia sat with her uncle, with her brows knitted in concern. Your mouth felt dry, and you swallowed to relieve the discomfort before answering.

"I've been better. But no one got seriously hurt, so there's that." You lolled your head onto the back of the bench and hissed out a small laugh through your teeth. "Got a crazy story to tell people now. First the bugs, then the jerk in the gift shop."

You heard movement in the seat behind you, followed by BJ's chuckle. "Crazy stories are the best kind!"

"They are after the fact, but between that jerk in the gift and the bug break out earlier, I am very much done with today. My leg still hurts from that wasp sting. If not for that little frog I would have gotten a lot more stings."

"I suppose the frog took a liking to you," Lydia said, "just like that donkey at the petting zoo."

You closed your eyes and sighed once more. BJ muttered something that you didn't bother to decipher. When he spoke clearly, he said, "Besides the minor mishaps, that was a fun trip though!"

You huffed out a dry laugh, but couldn't muster the energy to reply right away. When you did, you asked them to let you rest your eyes for the trip back. They agreed to, and you mumbled a thanks.

Regardless of whether you crossed over into a proper sleep, you managed a semblance of rest by the time the bus pulled up to the school. You sat up and rubbed at your eyes before glancing out the window. The students filed off the bus, followed by the other teachers. You got your things and left just behind the other teachers.

The crowd outside the bus thinned at the edges as students left the school grounds for home. You got to the edge near the building to watch over the students leaving. Among them you caught sight of Lydia and her uncle BJ. You bit your lip a tad worried you came across as rude earlier. An urge to correct that mistake overcame you, and you scurried over to catch them.

"Lydia, wait."

"Is something wrong, teacher?"

"No. Well, possibly. I wanted to apologize if I came across as rude on the bus. After that incident in the gift shop I felt rather drained."

"I understand. I didn't think you were rude."

You gave a soft smile to the girl. "I guess I should let you head home now. I'll see you in class, Lydia. Oh. And BJ, I... hope to see you around too."

"Ya really mean that, teach?"

"Please, you don't have to be so formal," you said with a laugh. You told him your name, and he repeated it to himself with a smile. "I enjoyed your company and wouldn't mind spending more time with you. Perhaps you could even show me around town."

He blinked at you a few times before the biggest grin split his face. "You got it, babes! BJ's Peaceful Pines Town Tours! Just say the word and I'll show you everything from here to the Neitherworld!"

"The Neitherworld? What?"

"Ah, uncle Beej, I think we should get going now. I need to get home for dinner."

"Oh. Right."

They waved you a farewell. You waved one back as you bit your lip and chuckled. Such a strange duo. Especially her uncle. But you've always liked the strange and unusual.

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #cartoon beetlejuice x reader #toonjuice x reader #my writing

150 notes · View notes

simplee-dreaming · 3 years

Text

The Runner (Part 2)

(Part 1 here)

A/N: THIS IS MY 50TH FIC WTF!! Ngl I'm not so confident about this one but that's just my anxiety being a demon. I hope you all like it.

Word count: 3823

Summary: With Darren being on the warpath, Chris takes great care of the reader...along with some friends.

-----------------------------------------

The next day you walked into work with a big smile on your face. Last night you shared food with Chris Evans, watched a film with Chris Evans, got into a tickle fight with Chris Evans and ended up being cuddled by Chris Evans. You were certainly on cloud nine right now.

“Black coffee for Mr Evans please! Black coffee!” a call came over the radio. You strode into the kitchen to make it but found another runner already on the case.

“Nevermind,” you thought to yourself. There’s no way you were gonna go the whole of today without seeing him anyway.

You turned on your heel to leave but walked straight into Darren.

“Oh, um, sorry, I-I didn’t see you there,” you stuttered.

“Watch where you’re going,” he said, sternly.

“Sorry,” you repeated.

“There’s a mess on the set, you need to clean it up before the next scene begins shooting,” he demanded. You looked at him.

“But, I’m not a cleaner?” You said, puzzled.

“You were perfectly happy to clean the set a few weeks back,” he said.

“Well yeah but-”

“No excuses, clean up that mess now,” he interrupted, marching out of the kitchen. You sighed but decided not to argue.

You went onto the set and helped the cleaners with the mess.

A few hours had passed and you were sitting on set filling out an accident form. Apparently, Sebastian Stan had slipped on set whilst filming and managed to cut his hand. Only a tiny cut, but any accident has to be filed. Unfortunately, you didn’t get to sit with Seb and fill it out but was given the details by his assistant, Jane.

You got up and walked into the set office, where all the paperwork was kept, and filed away the accident form. When you walked back onto the set, Darren was standing there staring at you. He lifted up his hand and ordered you to go over to him. You slowly walked over and stood in front of him.

“So what exactly did you do to clean the set earlier today?” He asked.

“I...I swept up the debris. I just cleared the mess,” you replied.

“You cleaned the floor, didn’t you?”

“I cleared it yeah but I-”

“You cleaned the floor and left it in a slippery state. No wonder Mr Stan slipped over,”

“No, but, I..I just cleared it! I never-”

“He could have broken a bone,”

“I didn’t clean it, I only swept!” You protested. Darren grunted at you and walked off, leaving you feeling deflated.

The rest of the day you were silent. You didn’t dare speak to anyone in case they thought the same as Darren. When your lunch break finally came around, you walked outside to the back of the studios and sat in a quiet corner where all you could hear was the wind sweeping through the trees and the birds singing. You finished your lunch in silence, a single tear escaping from your eye.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you all day!” said a familiar voice. You looked up to see Chris walking towards you. A smile involuntarily grew on your lips.

“Oh, hey!” You said, quickly wiping away the tear.

“What’s wrong? Have you been crying?” He asked, sitting on the bench next to you.

“No. No, I’m fine,” you replied.

“You have been crying. What’s the matter?”

“I’m fine,”

“No you’re not,”

“Yes I am, I promise. I’m fine,” you said, a little too quickly. Chris gently put his hand on top of yours.

“What’s happened?” He asked, softly. You looked at him, then looked down and burst into tears. He pulled you in for a tight cuddle.

“It’s all my fault,” you sobbed into his chest.

“What is?” he asked.

“Seb. I made Seb slip. He’s hurt because of me,” you cried.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Chris asked, rubbing your arm.

“I cleaned the set earlier, I must’ve put something down because Seb slipped and cut himself and it’s my fault,”

“Seb didn’t slip?” Chris said, confused.

“What?”

“Seb didn’t slip, he tripped and fell over. That’s how he cut his hand, he grabbed onto a bit of the set for support and caught a sharp edge. He never slipped,” Chris said. You looked up at him.

“So...so it wasn’t me?” You asked.

“Of course not, he’s just a clumsy idiot. The floor wasn’t slippery at all. Plus, he’s fine. Just got a big boy plaster on,” he chuckled.

“But...but Darren said-”

“What did Darren say?” Chris asked, more seriously.

“Darren said Seb slipped. And that it was my fault because I cleaned the set earlier but I didn’t remember actually putting any product down to clean and I thought I only swept the set which it seems is all I did and-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, breathe. Darren told you this was your fault?” Chris asked. You nodded.

“Right, I’m going to talk to him,” Chris said, standing up.

“No no please, he already hates me. If you say something then he’ll know I told on him and he’ll be even worse,” you begged.

“Y/N, he cannot treat you like this,”

“It’s fine, I can handle it,” you lied.

“He made you cry, Y/N. That is not okay. I’m going to speak to him,” Chris said. He walked off and you ran after him. When you turned the corner, you both ran straight into Seb.

“Whoa Speedy Gonzales, slow down!” Seb said, catching you as you tripped over Chris’ foot.

“S-sorry,” you said. You looked up and suddenly registered who was in front of you.

“Oh god. Oh I’m so sorry, Mr Stan, I didn’t mean to-”

“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay,” Chris said, placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him and took a few deep breaths.

“Ohh so you’re Y/N. Chris has been telling me all about you, it’s nice to put a face to a name,” Seb said, smiling at you. You gave a shaky smile back. He looked at Chris.

“Where are you off to?”

“Going to see my assistant,” Chris said, sternly.

“Ah yes, ‘Divine Darren’,” Seb said, sarcastically. “More like Distasteful Darren.”

“Well, quite. He’s been so unpleasant to Y/N, so I’m going to talk to him,” Chris said, he sounded very angry.

“Chris please, it will only make things worse,” you begged. Seb looked at your worried face and looked back at Chris.

“I think she’s right, Chris. At least wait a little bit until you’re calmer. Then I’ll come and back you up,” Seb said. Chris let out a sigh then looked at you. His face softened.

“Okay. But he’s not going to get away with this,” Chris said. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good lad,” Seb said, patting Chris’ shoulder. He then turned to you.

“So, you’re the reason our Chris was so chirpy this morning, eh?” He said. You blushed.

“W-well...I...um…” you stammered. What had Chris told Seb?

“Seb…” Chris warned.

“What? I’ve gotta be polite to your new tickle attacker!” Seb said.

“SEB!” Chris cried.

“Chris told me you used his weakness against him last night. Nice to have you on board Y/N,” Seb winked at you. You let out a nervous giggle, praying that Chris didn’t tell Seb that you shared the same weakness.

“Although, it seems you may struggle more. We can’t have someone who is equally as ticklish on the front line until he’s not strong enough to retaliate,” Seb said. He winked at you again and smirked.

Fuck. He knew.

“Anyway, gotta get ready for my next scene. Catch you both later,” Seb waved goodbye and walked off.

You turned to Chris and punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?!” He exclaimed.

“You told him?” You asked.

“Ohh...yeah...yeah I did,” he said, giggling. You punched him again.

“Ow! Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I just had a great night last night and couldn’t keep my mouth shut,” he said. You couldn’t help but smile.

“So did I,” you replied. He chuckled and pulled you in for a hug. You relaxed in his arms until he squeezed your side.

“Hey!” You yelped.

“That was for punching me,” he said.

You sighed and walked back into the studios with him, ready to get back to work.

The day finally came to a close. Scenes were wrapping up shooting and members of the crew were packing up to go home. You had purposefully been avoiding Darren all day, terrified of what he may try and do next.

Chris has invited you to his caravan again for another movie night, so you decided to quickly clean up the kitchen area before you clocked out. You took the half-filled jug of coffee out of its hold and turned to pour it down the sink. But, as you turned, someone knocked into the back of you and you dropped the jug which smashed all over the floor.

“What the hell are you playing at?!” Yelled Darren from behind you. You swiftly turned around.

No words came out of your mouth, just incoherent babbling.

“Look at what you’ve done! You’ve smashed the bloody jug you blundering idiot!” He yelled. You took a step backwards and slipped slightly on the spilt coffee, you held the kitchen side for support as tears leaked down your face.

“I-I didn’t mean….I never meant to...it was an accident!” You cried.

“You did that on purpose. You’ve been messing about ever since you started here. Have you any idea the damage you’ve caused?!”

You burst into tears, frightened of the man standing before you.

“Hey hey, back off!” A voice said behind Darren. He turned around slightly and there stood Scarlett and Lizzie, both with their arms folded.

“Did you see what she did? She broke the coffee jug!” Darren exclaimed, gesturing at you.

“Then buy another one,” Scarlett said, shrugging.

“Better yet, buy another one secretly and we won’t tell anyone that you purposely fell into her,” Lizzie said.

“What? I never fell into her! Stupid girl tripped over,” he said, a wobble in his voice. Both women titled their heads and raised their eyebrows at the same time.

“She dropped it all by herself! She’s caused nothing but havoc since she started,” he tried to explain but the girls were having none of it.

“Grrr. Out of my way,” Darren huffed. He pushed past Scarlett and Lizzie and marched off.

“Hey, are you okay?” Lizzie asked, approaching you. You shook your head and burst into tears. Lizzie drew you in for a hug.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Scarlett asked.

“Y/N,” you responded, quietly.

“Oh goodness, you’re Y/N! Chris has mentioned you a few times today. He’s waiting for you, we'll take you to him,” said Lizzie.

“B-but the mess…” you stammered.

“Leave it, we’ll clean it up,” Scarlett said.

She and Lizzie each put an arm around you and guided you away from the kitchen. Chris was standing at the back of the studios, near the caravan park. His posture straightened up when he saw you, but his face grew more concerned as you approached.

“Oh my god, are you okay Y/N? What happened?” He asked. Scarlett looked at him and raised one eyebrow.

“No. No no. This wasn’t Darren again was it?!” He said, his voice getting louder. “Where is he? I’ll kill him!”

“Chris, he’s probably gone home by now,” Lizzie said. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head.

“That little….he has no right treating you like his,” he said. You tilted your head down. He drew in a deep breath and took you from Scar and Lizzie, wrapping you in a hug.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” he said, stroking your hair. You cried into his shoulders and hugged him tightly.

“Tell you what, Seb’s using the green room to relax in for a bit this evening. Shall we go and join him?” He asked.

“Will he mind?” You replied, lifting your head slightly.

“Not at all! We could have a group film night if you’re both up for it too?” Chris asked. Scarlett and Lizzie nodded. Chris put his arm around you and all four of you walked to the green room.

“Knock knock,” said Chris, entering the room. Seb was sat on the sofa, scrolling through Netflix.

“Hey man, how’s it going?” Seb asked, turning to greet you all. “Ooh more guests, this is exciting. What’s the occasion?”

“Another incident happened. We thought we could join you and watch a movie together?” Chris said.

“Why of course! The more the merrier!” Seb said. He shuffled up a bit on the sofa and Chris placed you between himself and Seb.

“I’m gonna go grab some food. Do you two mind helping me?” Chris said, gesturing at Lizzie and Scarlett. They both followed him out and into the kitchen area. Coffee and bits of jug were still splattered on the floor so Lizzie bent down to start cleaning it up.

“What happened?” Chris asked.

“Y/N was cleaning this area. She went to wash out the coffee jug and Darren purposely bumped into her so she dropped the jug and he had a proper go at her. She was terrified,” Scar informed him. He hung his head.

“I can’t let him get away with treating her like that,” he responded.

“Well, what are you gonna do?” Lizzie asked, sweeping the floor.

“I don’t know yet. But he’s not getting away lightly,” Chris said. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“I don’t know. I think she’s just putting on a brave face,” Scarlett said.

Chris, Scarlett and Lizzie finished cleaning the kitchen and grabbed some bags of popcorn to take back to the room. When they returned, they found you leaning forwards with your head in your hands and Seb rubbing your back.

“What’s happened??” Chris asked. He put down the popcorn and sat next to you, putting his arm around you.

“She keeps saying everything that happened today is her fault. I’ve told her it isn’t but she’s pretty shook up,” Seb whispered softly.

“Oh Y/N. Nothing that has happened is your fault! We’ve been through this my lovely,” Chris said, gently.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mumbled.

“What? Chris said.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you said, standing up from the sofa and heading for the door. Chris grabbed your arm.

“Whoa whoa whoa, steady on. Where are you going?”

“Darren was right. I have no right being here. I’m just a runner.”

Another tear fell down your face and Chris’ heart broke.

“Y/N, listen to me. Yes, you are a runner but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be here. Runners are an important asset to the studios, how else would I get my coffee?! Besides, you’re not just a runner. You’re incredible. You’re the first non-celebrity that hasn’t treated me like royalty and it’s a breath of fresh air,” Chris said. You looked up at him.

“Really?”

“Yes really! Don’t want you bowing down to kiss my feet, they’re not that great,” he said. You gave a shy giggle.

“Come here,” he said, pulling you in for a cuddle. You happily accepted and relaxed slightly in his arms.

“Now then you, we’re gonna have a great movie night, yes?” He asked, you nodded. “Good, but I want you to be happy before we start. Where’s that smile?”

He had a hint of playfulness in his voice. You knew what was coming but didn’t want to fight it, so you buried your head further into his chest.

“Come on...where is it?” He teased. He started poking up and down your sides and you squirmed.

You murmured a giggle into his chest as he continued to poke you.

“Where’s that smile?” He teased. You giggled louder as the pokes turned into squeezes.

“Chrihihihis!” You squealed, trying to twist out of his grip.

“Where are you going?” He asked, bending his head slightly to look at you. His hands squeezed your sides and tickled your ribs, making you squeal. You put your hands on Chris’ stomach to push him away but decided to tickle his tummy instead.

“Hehey!” He yelped, stepping backwards and releasing you from his grip. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

“So that’s how you wanna play…” he said. The playful tone in his voice made you giggle but also kicked in the instinct to turn on your heel and run.

Bad move.

Chris lunged at you, as you turned, and picked you up - spinning you in the air before lying you flat on the sofa. You shrieked.

“No Chris!” You pleaded as he sat next to you, trapping you between him and the back of the sofa. He cackled evilly and started squeezing your sides again. You shrieked and kicked your legs out.

Seb, Lizzie and Scar all shared a smile as they watched Chris tease you.

“Show me that smile,” he teased once more. You were going bright red in the face and tried to bat his hands away, but you couldn’t stop giggling.

“Hey Chris, I think it may be in here,” Seb said. Before you realised what was about to happen, Seb had placed his fingers in the crook of your neck and started wiggling them.

“WAIHIHIHIT! You cried, not expecting Sebastian Stan to join in. You scrunched up your shoulders, trapping his hands in your neck, and shrieked.

“Wow, Chris, you’re right. She’s super ticklish!” He teased. Your face turned ruby red as you twisted and turned on the sofa.

“NOHO I’M NOHOHOT!” You cried.

“Oh yes you are,” Seb said. His hands trailed down to underneath you and started tickling your shoulder blades. The noise you made was different to any other you had ever made before.

“Whoa, I think you found a bad spot,” Chris laughed. He started squeezing and spider tickling your tummy and you let out a scream. You kicked your legs frantically as your arms waved around trying to stop the attacks.

“Girls, we need your help!” Seb said. Scarlett and Lizzie looked at each other and laughed. Scarlett got up and approached you.

She positioned herself next to Chris and gently fluttered her fingers over your kicking feet. No one had you pinned so you were free to twist and kick as much as you liked, but as soon as you twisted from one pair of hands you fell right into another.

“Does this tickle Y/N? Does it? Tickle tickle tickle!” Chris teased, now spider tickling your waistline.

“STOHOHOHP SAHAHAYING THAT!” You cried.

“Oh but you’re so fun to tease!” Chris said, laughing evilly.

Lizzie looked over at Chris and narrowed her eyes. Then, a thought hit her. She slowly crept up behind Chris before lunging at him, sitting on top of him so he was pinned to the floor. She wasted no time in shoving her hands under his armpits and wiggling her fingers.

“WHAHAHAT THE HEHEHELL?! AHAHAHAHA!” Chris yelled, taken aback by the sudden attack.

Seb and Scarlett instantly stopped tickling you so you could all watch the action unfold.

“Does this tickle Chris? Does it? Tickle tickle tickle!” She cooed, repeating his own teases. He thrashed below her and boomed out a laugh. You started giggling too.

“I’ve got him, Y/N. Come and get your own back,” she said, turning her head to wink at you. You jumped off the sofa and basically slid over to him.

“Do any of you know his worst spot?” You asked.

“His ears. Get the spot just behind the right one and flutter your fingers over the top of his left one and you’ll have him a babbling mess below you,” Seb said...a little too quickly.

You grinned at him. Lizzie stopped tickling but kept her hands positioned under his arms. You followed Seb’s instructions and, before you knew it, Chris was a babbling mess on the floor. A mix of squeals, giggles and high pitched laughs came out of him as he twisted his head from side to side. Every time he tried to lift his arms to stop you, Lizzie would tickle his armpits and he’d slam them back down again.

“Cootchie cootchie coo, Chris…” you teased. Your heart did somersaults at the sound of his precious laugh.

All of a sudden, Chris let out a booming laugh and jolted his body. You looked up and found Seb trapping one of Chris’ feet with one hand and using the other to scrape up and down his sole. Seb looked at you.

“His feet are his second worst,” he informed you.

You and Lizzie were too distracted by Seb tickling Chris’ foot that neither of you noticed him lifting up his arms. Because you were sitting right next to him, he managed to grab you and pull you over his torso. He held you close to him as his hand trailed up and down your back and sides. You shrieked loudly and bucked your body.

“CHRIHIHIHIS NOHOHOHO!” You cried.

Seb stopped tickling Chris and instead made a lunge for your foot, trapping it in the same way and raking his fingers up and down it. You burst into a loud laughter.

“Oh dear, we really are trapped now aren’t we?” Scarlett teased. She shoved her hands between you and Chris and started tickling both your tummies at the same time. You both shrieked loudly. Lizzie giggled and decided to join Chris in tickling your sides and back. Chris was giggling below you but you were screaming and shrieking before falling into a silent laughter. You hid your face in Chris’ torso and jolted your whole body. They all took this as the sign to stop.

You lay on top of Chris, getting your breath back. He was still giggling which made you giggle more.

“You okay?” He asked, now stroking your hair. You nodded and placed your head on his chest.

“You passed the initiation,” Seb said. You lifted your head and looked at him, brows furrowed.

“What?” You asked.

“You passed the initiation. You got through our torture without murdering us,” he laughed. You got off of Chris and sat on the floor, still giggling. Chris sat up too.

“You’re officially one of us now. That will never change,” he said, pulling you in for a cuddle. “And tomorrow, I promise, I will sort out this mess. Darren will never treat you so badly again, I promise.”

“Just don’t ever clean the set again,” Seb teased. You scoffed and playfully punched him, making him laugh.

Seb, Scarlett and Lizzie shuffled forward and all four cast members engulfed you in a massive hug. You felt so safe and secure, all of your worries left you for that evening.

Tomorrow is a new day.

#tickle fic #avengers cast tickle fic

86 notes · View notes