#WHEN HE WAS HUMAN AGAIN AND SHE ASKED HIM TO GROW A BEARD
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— AFTERMATH
SUMMARY : she’s human and ben wants to push her limits, fuck anyone else who got in the way of his mission.
PAIRING : soldier boy x fem!reader
CHARACTERS : none
WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw(18+), smut, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, choking, no plot :’(
WORD COUNT : 1.3k
A/N : title from a muse song. I’m trying to post all the things I’ve already written before getting started on new projects. this makes me so happy xx
“How many’s that?” Ben asked with a smirk on his lips, plunging his fingers in and out of her. Y/N could only whine in response, her head rolled to the side, the build up of another orgasm growing from within. He trailed his lips down her chest, the hot kisses felt like pleasurable sparks over her nerves, the coarse hairs of his beard tickling her sensitive skin and feeling just as good.
When she didn’t respond, he tilted his head at her, quickly thinking of a way to get her to answer him. His long, messy hair fell in front of his green eyes, waiting for her to look at him, but she didn’t. He slid his fingers out of her and his eyes flickered down to them, glistening and wet with her warm arousal.
She squirmed at the sensation of his warm breath on her pussy, her orgasm slowly began fading, but her sensitive clit still throbbed with desire. She opened her eyes, blinked the haze from her vision and quickly focused on the amusement and arrogance on his face.
“Ben?” She murmured, threading her fingers through his soft hair. He hummed softly, shifted his attention back on her face and brought his fingers into his mouth. He moaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut while savouring the taste of her on his fingers while she watched. He slipped his fingers out of his mouth and grabbed the underside of her thighs to open her up, digging his fingers roughly into her flesh.
“How many times did I make you cum?” He asked slowly, gazing at her from between her legs. He felt her calves press tightly against the back of his arms and more wetness grew between her legs. She let her head fall back into the pillows, rolling her eyes in annoyance, but he was too busy licking his lips hungrily and staring between her legs to really notice.
He still sensed her irritation but leaned into her anyway, his nose bumping against her clit. He licked a flat stripe of her pussy, started at her entrance to taste her and through her soaked folds, the tip of his tongue teasingly flicking up at her clit. His mouth watered, a little moan vibrated through him and against her cunt to add to the torture.
She fisted the bedsheets, felt the fires of her orgasm flickering again, his tongue teasingly brushed up and down her clit. “Fuck….” She grunted, squirming when he refused to change the pace and pressure, keeping her right on the edge, the fire in her staying light and warm. Only occasionally, he’d change the speed and the way he licked at her cunt. He’d only stop when she jolted, when she moaned and arched her back, when she wiggled her hips, fighting against his tight hold on her thighs.
“How many?” He mumbled against her.
“Five… five,” she whispered breathlessly, giving in. Her toes curled when he sucked her clit into his mouth rewardingly, two fingers slipping back into her. They curled against her walls, knuckle-deep inside her with her arousal dripping down to his palm. Smirking at the way she soaked his hand, he stretched her velvety walls by adding a third finger, pumping them into her quickly. He sucked roughly at her clit until she moaned his name loudly for a sixth time.
“You’re fine,” he muttered, rolling his eyes when she tugged his hair to stop him from sucking her clit. He sat back on his legs, brought one hand to her knee to keep her legs apart, and stroked his cock with the hand that was soaked in her arousal. “Fuck, look at you… all hot and beautiful.”
He grunted deeply and twisted his hand on his cock teasingly. His eyes were glued on her, starting with her half-lidded eyes and her parted lips, trying to catch her breath. He trailed his eyes down to her chest which rose and fell with each panting breath she took. He traced the curves of her body with his greedy eyes, her smooth skin covered with a thin layer of sweat, her hands now resting on her stomach.
He tugged at his cock faster, tightened his grip, a groan rumbling through his chest. His eyes had moved down to her weeping folds for a few moments before he moved closer to her. The heat of her body radiated to him like a sun and made his skin hotter, flushed and pink, sweaty from the rapid beating of his own heart. He moved his hand away from her knee to wrap it around her neck, his grip tightening safely.
“Ben,” she moaned, staring into his dark eyes. His cock throbbed in his hand and he gently released her neck before tightening his grip again, turned on by the way she breathed unevenly. He released her neck so she could breathe again, leaned over her to kiss her roughly instead. He parted from her lips, but continued to jerk himself off, the fiery feeling in his stomach spreading throughout his body.
She slipped her hands into his hair again, pulled him back down to continue the passionate kiss, and held onto him desperately. She tingled between her legs when his cock brushed through her folds and bumped against her clit, reigniting the flames of her desire. The heat of him turned her on, as if he’d drugged her with just a kiss, with just a touch of his skin on hers.
He groaned into her mouth, pulled away slightly to press his forehead against hers when he came. A string of saliva connected their kiss-swollen lips, his warm breath puffed over her wet mouth, and his nose bumped gently against her own. Hot ropes of his cum painted her stomach and pelvis and his grip on her throat tightened until he was beginning to soften in his hand and his orgasm was starting to subside.
She gasped for breath when he let go of her neck. He felt his entire body relax, nuzzled her cheek with his nose, and rested his weight on her body. Unlike him, she was gentle and careful. She carded her fingers through his soft hair, her nails scratched his scalp pleasantly and an appreciative grumble resonated through his chest.
He pressed a kiss to her jaw, ghosted her skin with his soft lips to reach her mouth. He gave her a messy kiss, leaned his weight on his arm by her head to drag his rough hand down her body. He took her breath away again, pulled away just far enough so he could follow the path of his hand with his eyes.
He smeared his cum over her hip bone, used his fingers to gather his cum and brought it down to her abused folds. She twitched when his fingers brushed against her clit and she tried to shut her legs around his hand, but he gave her thigh a gentle slap that forced her to spread them open.
“You’ve been so good for me,” he praised softly. He kissed her cheek, gathered more of his cum and shoved his fingers inside her vagina. He pumped them into her slowly—twice or four times, then pulled them out to gather the last of his cum, but this time he brought his fingers to her lips. She was ready for him after a single tap of his fingertips against her lips and her tongue welcomed him into her mouth.
Her lips closed around his fingers, her gaze catching his when she sucked on them and he carefully started to thrust them in and out of her mouth. She hummed softly at the mixture of his and her cum, her teeth grazed his fingers when he pulled them out, and he awarded her with another kiss.
“Ben, I have to meet Butcher and Hugh-” she gasped when he pushed his cock into her smoothly.
“Oh, I’m not done with you yet, dollface,” he chuckled, his cock already hardening inside her again. He rolled over onto his back, roughly grasped her hips and gave her a charming smirk now that she was on top. “Let’s see how much more you can handle.”
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archetypical changes
@echoghost1 @ghostfox_fuyu
It started out small. Small enough that, in retrospect, Danny was surprised he noticed at all. But he did. At least, he noticed enough to dismiss it as nothing important.
It was just hair, after all. Just hair, growing a bit too fast. He knew that people did have different rates of hair growth naturally. Like, beards especially could grow fast. That’s why five o’clock shadow was a thing.
Just hair.
He wound a curl around finger, where it peeked out from under his left ear. This fast… He could probably brush it off. Maybe it was an extension of his healing powers. He’d just need to cut it more often, so he didn’t go to the barber too often. Would that even be something people would notice?
He’d noticed. It was his body. His hair.
Would anyone else?
He ran a hand through it, sweeping it back, and went on with his life.
“Hey, Jazz,” he said, a week later. “Will you give me a haircut?”
“Yeah, sure,” said Jazz. She turned from her desk and looked him over. “It is getting long, but didn’t you just get a haircut?”
Danny shrugged. “Does it matter?”
Jazz walked over to him and looked up and down the hallway. “Is it a ghost thing?” she whispered.
“No idea,” Danny said.
Jazz sighed, as if it was his fault he was a freak of nature.
Well. It kind of was. Still. She didn't need to act like it.
“Come on, we'll do it in the bathroom. I'll get the broom, you find the scissors.”
They regrouped in the bathroom a few minutes later. Jazz had picked up a chair as well.
“Go ahead and sit down,” she said as she pulled a comb from a drawer. She ran the comb through his hair.
“I did brush my hair before,” said Danny, leaning back slightly and closing his eyes.
“Sure,” said Jazz. “Just checking. How do you want this?”
“However it was before. Just shorter than it is now.”
“Well… I’ll do my best. But you know I’ve not done this before, right?”
“Yeah, but I can’t ask Mom or Dad, and I’m broke, so. This is about it. Unless I want to ask Sam, and I’m not ready to go goth.”
“Going ghost is enough for you, huh?”
“Pretty much.”
“Okay,” said Jazz with a sigh. “Let’s do this.”
The scissors snipped cleanly through his hair, over and over, ticklish strands falling around his ears and shoulders. Jazz didn’t get fancy. She kept things relatively even and didn’t attempt fades or different lengths or anything like that. The result was somewhat strange, but it was workable. No one would think he had some kind of weird hair-growing… thing.
Yeah. He was totally killing this secret identity thing.
Jazz ran a hand through his hair, shaking loose a few more cut strands. “Your hair is really fluffy, you know that?”
“Thanks, Jazz,” said Danny.
“Thank me by helping clean up. Your hair got everywhere.”
“Guess that’s why barber shops use those weird little capes.”
“Yeah,” said Jazz.
They cleaned up relatively quickly, and Danny spent the rest of the afternoon working on homework, secure in the knowledge that he had, once again, protected himself from discovery via stupid means, like supernaturally fast-growing hair. He didn’t have the time for it to distract him from what was really important. In this case, transformations of functions.
Math. What would he do without it?
Then, of course, he went to bed and fell asleep. No one disturbed him that night, ghost or human, which only happened about half the time, even if it felt like he was being woken up every night, sometimes.
He woke up and ran his hands through his hair. It felt longer than it had yesterday when he went to bed, but not by a huge amount. He might have to get Jazz to cut his hair once a week or more. Maybe he’d just have to learn how to do it himself. Ugh…
He went about his usual morning routine in his normal somnambulant state. Clothing, shoes, on to the bathroom…
His reflection blinked sleepily at him. Yeah, his hair was a bit longer, but only by a few millimeters. It wasn’t growing fast enough that anyone would notice over the course of a few days.
Dismissing the problem as one that wouldn’t truly become problematic for a few more days, he picked up his toothbrush and made a face at himself in the mirror.
Then he froze.
He leaned forward, over the sink, baring his teeth. He poked at his canines with one finger. Yep. Yep, that was real. That wasn’t a hallucination, even if it seemed like it should be.
His upper canines had grown long and sharp overnight. Their points descended until they almost touched his bottom gums. He opened his mouth and discovered that it wasn’t just his upper canines, but his lower canines, too.
His fingers roved over the rest of his teeth, searching for other changes. He couldn’t find any. That didn’t mean they weren’t there.
He pulled off his shirt, then his pants. He hadn’t noticed anything else while he was getting dressed, but he was so out of it in the mornings that his lack of noticing also didn’t mean anything.
His skin… still pasty white, still lightly freckled. His muscles seemed to move normally, but he wasn’t exactly an expert. However… He raised his hand to his side and slotted his fingers into the gaps between his ribs. It hadn’t been like this before, had it? He slid his fingers back and forth, thinking. It felt… oddly satisfying, but also very wrong. His hips also seemed slimmer, bonier.
He’d never had all that much fat, he took after his mother in that way, but he was pretty sure this was over and above that. Something strange was happening to him.
He put his shirt and pants back on and walked through the wall into Jazz’s room.
“Holy– Knock first,” said Jazz, throwing the first thing she could grab at him. Which was her pajama pants. Ew. “What’s wrong?”
“I have fangs now,” said Danny.
“What?”
Danny opened his mouth as wide as he could to show her.
“What are you doing, I don’t want to see your uvula, that’s– Oh.”
Danny let his mouth close with a click. “What am I supposed to do?”
“I’m–” Jazz looked lost. “I don’t know. You can probably hide, um, teeth for school. It’s not as if people are going to be looking in your mouth… Are there any other changes? Other than that and your hair?”
“Um,” said Danny. “I– Maybe?”
“If it’s important enough that you broke into my room–”
“I didn’t break anything.”
“--then you’d better tell me.”
Danny felt himself blushing. “It’s– I think that I’ve lost a lot of weight. Like, overnight. I can see my ribs now.”
Jazz hissed through her teeth. “That’s serious, Danny. That’s a serious health thing.”
“More than the fangs?”
“Way more than the fangs. I’ll call us out sick, and we can go visit your doctor friend. What was his name? Frostfight?”
“Frostbite,” corrected Danny. “You’re really going to help me skip school?”
“For a health thing?” asked Jazz. “Yeah. You basically are sick. Or, at least, there’s something strange going on with your body that we need to figure out sooner rather than later. Now get out of here so I can get dressed. Is it cold where Frostbite lives?”
“Freezing,” said Danny. “Wear long underwear and layers. Lots of layers.”
“Ugh. I might as well wear my hazmat.”
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be a bad idea,” said Danny. “We are going into the Ghost Zone.”
Jazz sighed. “Great, now, seriously, get out and get ready to go. I’ll get you when I’m ready.”
Danny fled back through the walls and dropped himself onto his bed. He waited, thoughts whirling. What could possibly be making his hair grow faster, his weight drop, and his teeth turn into fangs? Was this some kind of ghost disease? Ghost puberty? Some kind of weird curse?
Jazz knocked on his door not long after, and Danny leaped up, eager to get answers.
“I called us out,” she said, then did a double take. “Danny, your hair.”
He reached up and ran his hand over his head. “It’s longer,” he said.
“A lot longer,” said Jazz. “Visibly longer. I was only gone a few minutes. It’s getting faster. A lot faster.”
Danny forced a smile. “Well, good thing we were already going to see Frostbite.”
Jazz hesitated, then nodded. “I got Mom and Dad to run off to Elmerton. Told them there was a ghost sighting over there.”
“So they won’t notice us being gone. Smart.”
“I know I am,” said Jazz. She smirked down at Danny, then winked. “Come on, let’s go.”
Danny went ghost and floated next to her as she made her way down the stairs. “How are you on piloting the Specter Speeder?”
“I’m, well,” she made a face. “I haven’t gotten much of a chance. I’ve gotten up to level three on the simulator.”
“You should be fine to fly it, then,” said Danny. “It’s not like there’s a lot of stuff to run into– you’ll just go through it. And there’s no time to learn like the present.”
“Don’t use my words against me,” said Jazz, scowling slightly. Danny stuck his tongue out at her.
They went down into the lab, and started going through the flight checks for the Specter Speeder.
“I’ll fly ahead,” said Danny, clipping on a Fenton Fone. “Check for danger and all.”
“Are you sure you’re up for that?”
“Yeah, I feel fine,” said Danny. “Just… weird.” He licked his teeth. “Really weird.”
“Okay, go ahead. I’ll finish up here in just a couple of minutes.”
Danny flew through the portal and did a few laps of the portal. “Everything looks clear for you over here.”
“Okay,” said Jazz through the Fone. “Check your Fenton Fone. It’s skipping a lot of what you say.”
Danny grumbled but checked it. It seemed fine. He popped it back in. “I think we’ll just have to deal with it,” said Danny.
“Great,” said Jazz. “Stand clear.”
The Specter Speeder slowly slid through the portal. Once it was all the way through, Danny tapped his Fone again and waved at Jazz. “Follow me,” he said. “It’s a long way there.”
.
The Far Frozen was as cold as ever. Danny landed in the snow, his hair falling down to the curve of his jaw, and sighed at the pleasant sensation. Flying wasn’t difficult, per se. It wasn’t like walking or running, it didn’t really use muscles, but it was tiring, and the Far Frozen was far.
However… was he more tired than he normally would have been? Or was this another symptom?
“Great One!” greeted Frostbite, jarring Danny from his spiraling introspection. “What brings you here today?”
“Well,” said Danny, trying to get his thoughts together.
“Health things,” said Jazz, climbing out of the Speeder. “Oh, gosh, it really is cold out here.”
“I see,” said Frostbite, leaning closer to Danny. “You do not appear injured.”
“It’s more like… body… changes,” explained Danny awkwardly. He glanced sideways at the other yetis walking through the public space. “Can we go in?”
“Of course,” said Frostbite. He gestured Danny and Jazz onward and towards a well-lit cave. “Medical is this way, as you might remember.”
“I… guess I don’t, really,” said Danny, following Frostbite. “It’s sort of a blur.”
“Understandable. You were quite unwell.”
Danny could feel Jazz glaring at the back of his head. He decided to ignore that. Problem for later, if she remembered. The hair and teeth and weight loss were the problems now.
They reached the medical wing in short order, and Frostbite ushered him and Jazz into a smaller private room. There was a counter and an examination bench and a few cabinets. “So, what seems to be the problem?” he asked.
Danny, with Jazz’s ‘help,’ explained.
“Hm,” said Frostbite. “There are a few things that could cause that, but I need to make some measurements before I could say which one is happening here. Could you sit up here and take off your shirt?”
Danny flew up - it was a bit too high to just jump up - and pulled off his shirt. Frostbite produced a stethoscope, and asked Danny to cough and hum. He listened intently. Danny listened, too. Humming felt… odd, as if his chest were more hollow, as if the sound was brushing the very edge of his ghostly wail.
“And all this happened recently?” asked Frostbite, after a few minutes.
“Yeah. I noticed the hair thing about a week ago? Everything else seemed to just show up today.”
“I think I may know what is happening.”
“Is it a ghost puberty thing?” asked Danny, unsure if he should hope for that or not.
“I suppose it could be considered analogous to puberty,” said Frostbite, bemused, “although puberty isn't something that typically happens to ghosts. We don't age. It's more along the lines of adapting to a role after a period of malleability.”
Jazz let out a little sigh. “It's not something that will hurt Danny, then?”
“Unfortunately, I cannot say that for certain. There are a great deal of potential complications, which may be made greater by your half-human status, and the archetype you seem to be settling into…”
“What is it?” asked Danny.
“The role you have taken upon yourself is that of a tutelary, a protective spirit. You are developing a very thin, almost gaunt appearance, and your hair is growing rapidly. Fangs tend to be nonspecific, common to many types of ghost, the same with minor changes to your nails and skin tone. Your wail on the other hand…”
“I sort of felt it when I was humming, earlier,” volunteered Danny. “That hasn't happened before.”
“There is only one group I know of that matches all those traits,” said Frostbite gravely. “Here, in the Realms, they are called the Keeners, or the Mourners, or, on occasion, Those Who Mourn Before, for their predictive abilities. In the human world, I believe the more famous of them became known as banshees.”
“I thought banshees were all women,” said Danny, feeling a little blank.
“The famous ones are,” said Frostbite.
Danny wanted to know more about that, but shook his head and returned to the question at hand. “What's dangerous about that, though?” he certainly thought it sounded unpleasant and inconvenient to the whole ‘secret identity’ thing, but he could admit there was a difference between that and actively dangerous.
“A banshee’s wail is supposed to kill people, isn't it?” interjected Jazz.
“They do, on occasion,” said Frostbite. “Especially when they are younger and have less control.”
“I've had my wail under control for ages, though,” protested Danny, shooting a glare at Jazz. She gave him an apologetic shrug.
“When I asked you to hum, earlier, didn’t you feel something different? Something unusual?” asked Frostbite, kindly.
Danny shrugged. “Maybe.”
“This is a change,” said Frostbite. “One that affects more than your physical appearance. The powers associated with your archetype will change as well, including your wail, and those changes generally come with a loss of control, however temporary. The typical precaution in these cases is to, ah, use a gag, until a community of banshees willing to train the new one can be contacted.”
“I, um. I don’t suppose that’s something that I can do, like, overnight?”
“Not generally,” said Frostbite. “There’s some overlap between banshees and ice-cored ghosts, more than there is for fire-cored ghosts, but it isn’t a great enough number for us to have regular contact.”
“That’s… I can’t… Great. That’s. What am I supposed to do with that? I’ve got my whole town– The ghosts– I can’t just up and leave.”
“Danny, you can’t go back if your wail could just randomly go off and, you know, ki–”
“I know that,” interrupted Danny, dropping his head into his hands. He rubbed his face vigorously.
“You may not have that particular addition to your wail,” said Frostbite. “In fact, I would be rather surprised if you did. You are, like I said, primarily a tutelary. A protector. Banshees from such backgrounds more typically have predictive or clairvoyant abilities. They do not cause the deaths that follow their cry, they only are aware of them.”
“Well, I guess that’d just suck for me rather than everyone else.” He could already feel his mental health taking a hit. “But I’ll be good, I’ll stay here and do whatever precautions you want. Play the silent game, sit in the middle of nowhere in the Zone, the gag thing, whatever. You’d better come up with a good excuse for me, though. I think Mom and Dad’ll get suspicious if they don’t see me for days or whatever.”
“I’ll do my best,” said Jazz.
“Is there anything else I should know about?” asked Danny. “Like, am I going to spontaneously combust or grow a tail or what?”
Frostbite chuckled. “Probably not. But we should take some fittings for the sound-dampening gag…”
Danny sighed. “I really don’t want to wear a gag.”
“It will be temporary,” said Frostbite, “to prevent accidents before you can have proper training.”
Danny wrinkled his nose. “That sounds wrong.”
“How so?” asked Frostbite.
“Don’t want to talk about it.” He fell back to lay down on the examination table.
Frostbite patted his shoulder. “It will be fine, Great One,” he said. “Almost everyone goes through this eventually. And while you’re here, I can give you more details about what other kinds of changes you can expect going forward. I have simplified a good deal, after all.”
“Oh my gosh, it is just like puberty,” said Danny.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay without me?” asked Jazz.
“I’m more worried about you flying back.”
“We can give your sister an escort,” said Frostbite. “If Miss Jasmine is alright with that.”
Danny removed his hands from his face to stare Jazz into taking the escort.
“Alright,” said Jazz. “If it won’t put you out.” She walked over to Danny. “And if you are sure you don’t need me.”
“I’m sure. We can’t both be gone for who knows how long.”
She sighed and patted his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I know,” said Danny. “I’m just going to complain about it the whole time.”
“As is your right. I know I wasn’t too happy when it started happening to me. I wasn’t always as handsome as I am now, you know.”Danny sat up. “Okay, now, I’ve got to hear that story.”
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Idk if I'm asking in the right place or if ur requests are open but could u do smthn smutty for Glenn or Maggie(or both)
Feel Me
Glenn Rhee x female!reader
Warnings: Maggie and Glenn are not together (love them tho), smut, fingering, oral (f), p in v, Glenn being a sex god, praise, pet names (baby), mentions of walkers, mentions of Rick and reader dating, fluffy ending
Got a tad bit carried away
Summary: Glenn needs to let off some tension and who better than the girl waiting back at home for him.
Walkers were the main stress in this new world. They ate everything in their path. Humans, animals, anything you can name they ate. Their nasty hands and skin move about as they search for a meal to tide them over until they found another.
Glenn was working on the crops that Rick had him start growing. He did not know the first thing about farming but that was where his friendship with Maggie Green came in. He had learned the ropes on the farm with her but now she was busy with her own job. He was just starting to become overwhelmed.
You were sitting in a long shirt and panties while knitting a blanket. Judith was in need of a bigger blanket and you asked Rick if you could make her a new one. He admired your love for his daughter which was the entire reason he started to love you. But that was a long time ago. When you were on the road. Now that you were in a safe community, you and Glenn hit it off.
Your crush on Glenn started when you noticed that Maggie was taking an interest in him. You didn't mean to but your heart wanted him. You told him after he and Maggie broke up. You had just stopped seeing Rick and you needed a friend. In the end, you got a boyfriend who loved you.
Glenn walked through the door of the house, dirty from the hard day's work, and he gave you a peck on the cheek. He looked tired and stressed. You wanted to help him feel better.
"Baby, are you alright?"
"I'm just tired, is all." Glenn answered.
"Maybe I can help," You walked up to him and kissed his shoulder. Your hands started to massage the tension in his shoulders away, placing a kiss on his neck. Breathing him in, his smell fills your lungs. Dirt, sweat, pine wood, and just Glenn surrounded you. He sighed when you leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips. A slight beard had started to grow and you were quite fond of it. You found it to be sexy on the man.
"I wanna help you relax."
Kissing his lips deeply, you push his shirt off his body. Revealing a toned chest and lower stomach. Your hands wandered his skin, feeling the warmth from his body as Glenn deepened the kiss by grabbing your face. You pull away and grab his hand, leading him upstairs to the bedroom that you shared. His brown eyes followed your every move and traced your body. He loved you in so many ways more than just lust. He loved every part of you. He wanted to worship you in so many ways. He wanted to build a temple for just you and be your only worshiper if it made you happy. If it let him continue to see you like this.
Slowly undressing each other, gentle touches and kisses were exchanged between the two bodies that were pressed against each other. Seeking warmth and comfort in the hands of each other, the two of you laid down onto the soft mattress below. Glenn kissed your neck, making you grip his black hair slightly, and made his hot trail down to your core. He kissed each thigh, biting slightly so he could see the beautiful reaction that he all too well knows when he has you like this. He kisses you again, this time, on the very place where you need him most.
Your thighs close around his head and you arch your back slightly at the new found pleasure that Glenn's mouth provided for you. He licks at your gaping hole and moans, literally moans, at the sounds that you make for him. Your eyes meet with his brown ones in the dim lit room. You feel him smile against your lower body and then he started to suck on your pulsing clit. He toys with it, circling his tongue on the delicate bud as you whine above him.
"So beautiful," He muttered into your skin while you grind your hips up against his tongue. He chuckles before placing an arm on your waist to hold you down.
"Careful now, don't want this to end too quickly now would we?"
You whimper as he went back to his assaults on your cunt. He moves a hand up to you and gentle push inside two fingers. The stretch burns for a second but Glenn is curling his fingers against your sensitive walls. He ruts against the mattress as wetness floods from you, around Glenn's fingers as he moves them inside your body. He plays your body to the tune of his desires and he kindly let you cum on his fingers and mouth.
He kisses up your body, shaking with pleasure, humming for his touch. You would gratefully take whatever it is that he decides to give your lusting body. He kisses your neck before reaching your mouth. He slips his tongue through the gate of your swollen lips and licks at the roof of your mouth. You groan at the tart but sweet taste of your arousal.
Glenn props himself up with one hand and uses the other to move his cock to entrance of your body. He looks to your face as he pushes slightly in, watching your face contort into pleasure at the feeling of his body becoming one with yours. He rests his forehead against yours, his hair sticking to his head with his sweat and his scent floods your senses. It was just so Glenn. Just so home. He was your home.
"I gotta move," You nodded at his words and he pulled back slightly. Not wanting to leave your warmth for very long, for he thrusts back in as soon as he pulls out. His thrusts began to build as the coil in your stomachs began to tighten with the overwhelming pleasure that coursed red hot in your veins. The drag of his cock against the wet walls of your pussy was heavenly. The feel of the veins rubbing as the head of his dick kissed your g-spot every time.
Glenn leaned down and his chest pressed to yours, sticking together with the sweat that presented itself on your bodies. The heat of the act was rising while your moans started to get higher and higher. Glenn smiled at you.
"You're doing so good for me, baby."
You moaned at the praise and clenched tightly around Glenn. He stuttered his hips for just a second before gaining his composer again. His hips grazed yours as the movement above you continued with great haste. Glenn wanted you to cum once more before he got his fill. He was always more of a giver rather than a receiver and you lived for it. He always knew what he was doing. You remember that you joked about the man being a sex god who came to taunt you and you were right about him being a sex god.
His arms bulged as he strained to hold himself up while you wrap your legs around his waist and your nails scrape against the skin of his back, leaving angry red welts behind. Glenn whispers sweet nothings into your ear with his eyes closed because the sensations began to become too much.
With one more thrust of his cock, the band breaks and you climax heavily. Your orgasm releases the tension in your muscles when you felt the lovely feeling of Glenn's cum spilling inside your womb. He pushes himself as far as he can while thrusting a few more times, prolonging the pleasure of your orgasm.
Glenn lets himself go and he falls beside you, his shoulder on your chest but it still counts. He smiled at you before picking you up to take a bath. You sat in the warm water while he washed your body, careful of the sensitivity that had now taken over. You leaned into his warmth and kissed his hand when bringing it to your lips.
Glenn kissed your cheek and praised you on how well you had done for him. How good you were. How much you made him feel good. How you were the only one to make him feel that good.
"Thank you," He whispered once you had cuddled in bed.
"For what?"
"For helping me."
"Glenn, if you ever need to unwind, you know where to find me."
"I hope you know that this is more than using you as a stress relief."
"Baby, I knew the first time you made me feel good. I knew that this is what true love feels like."
"Thank you."
"For what?" You moved closer to his body. His arms wrapped around you.
"For loving me and just being in my life."
"Always."
#glenn rhee x reader#twd#the walking dead#the walking dead x reader#glenn rhee x reader smut#glenn rhee smut#glenn rhee#glenn rhee fanfiction#twd x reader#x reader#smut#twd smut#the walking dead smut#glenn rhee x female reader
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You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 7
Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.
Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader
I would never be able to walk into Dr. Miller’s classroom and look at anything the same way again. When Tuesday finally rolled around after a weekend of reliving the most invigorating sexual experience of my life, I couldn't help but walk sheepishly in through the door.
Before I crossed the threshold of the lecture hall I could almost hear my professor’s primal groans that had echoed off the walls of his office the week before - a result of his intense climax as I ‘returned the favor’.
I would have been more anxious and unsure if he hadn't slipped a piece of paper with his cell phone number on it between my cleavage upon our walk to our respective cars that evening. That - and the fact that we had exchanged an overabundance of racy text messages back and forth. The very thought made me blush.
Trevor was up at Dr. Miller's desk when I rounded into the room and I almost snickered from the subtle, annoyed look on his face as he humored his over-enthusiastic student. When his eyes met mine I knew my eyebrows raised and felt a new rush of red form on my cheeks.
He's wearing glasses. Fuck, I was a hot mess.
“We’ll discuss it Trevor,” I heard him say amongst the background chatter in the room, shooing him away like a fly in the most delicate of ways.
Our eyes locked again as Trevor vacated the area at the head of the room and Dr. Miller sat back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. The smallest smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth and I smiled to myself as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
That position - his feet widened, the same brown dress shoes, hands behind his head, eyes on mine. Fuck, he was in the same exact posture as he had been in the other night in his office chair. It made my body twitch with satisfaction as I took my seat.
I wanted to focus on the subject matter. I wanted to engage in conversation. I wanted to learn more about the topic Dr. Miller had sent home in the reading the previous week. I simply couldn't concentrate.
I was thankful that he didn't call on me to answer a question. He must've known I wasn't paying attention the way I ordinarily did. My hormones were in overdrive and my typical sound mind was a ticking time bomb of lust.
“Aren't all killers.. bad?” A voice from the crowd asked.
My attention was pulled back to the discussion at hand. The girl on campus. I hadn't even thought about it since the fantasies of my own little world had manifested Thursday night.
Dr. Miller slid back to sit on the edge of his desk and moved his arms out to the sides. “I don't know. What do you think?”
“Well.. yeah.” I spotted the voice coming from a male in a blue baseball hat near the front left side of the room.
“Well,” Dr. Miller went on, “Let's define ‘killer’ first. Is it anyone who has killed another human being - a soldier, someone who has acted in self defense, a drunk driving accident, the man who put the lethal injection into Ted Bundy’s arm.”
A silence fell over the classroom and I began to ponder the question. When I raised my hand Dr. Miller's dimples highlighted a wide, genuine smile. He ran a hand across his trim, salt-and-pepper beard.
“Ms. (Y/LN),” he addressed me and folded his arms across his chest. “What do you think?”
Most of the students had turned their attention on me and so I cleared my throat. “I would say if it was part of a job, like a soldier or the person who is responsible for lethal injections, that it wouldn't make the person a killer per se, or evil in any way.”
“And why do you say that?” Dr. Miller removed his glasses and slipped the end into his mouth. It distracted me for a half-a-second though I quickly went on.
“Well.. I mean.. in some way they're protecting us. They aren't choosing to kill for pleasure, or targeting innocent people. It's not a crime of passion or revenge or pure insanity; or even because the person is a psychopath.”
“So, you would say in this sense killing is.. acceptable?”
I gave a little shrug. “I guess I would.. yeah.”
“They're getting rid of the scum,” the student with the blue hat added.
“Well, what if they got it wrong,” a blonde-haired woman with glasses shouted down from the back. “What if Ted Bundy was innocent and-”
“Ted Bundy wasn't innocent,” blue hat cut her off.
“I meant someone like him,” she shot back in a slightly annoyed tone, “Let's say in theory Ted Bundy never killed anyone. What would you say about the lethal injector now?”
Dr. Miller gave a hearty laugh from the front and nodded in approval as he hopped down off the desk and set his glasses down on top of it. “Now this.. this is what I love. Debates.. critical thinking.. digging a little deeper.”
“I think it all has to do with the reason behind the action,” another student chimed in.
“Yeah but we can't just go around killing people who did terrible things like.. The Purge or something,” the blonde added again.
“How about this?” Dr. Miller took a piece of paper he had on the corner of his desk and crumbled it into a ball. “I had a whole different assignment planned for this week but I like where this is going. I'll send this in an email to everyone more formally, but I'd like you to write up a short paper on your opinion on the questions presented. What defines a killer? Are all people that take a life.. bad?”
“Do we need sources?” The blond shouted down.
“I'll send out a formal email with the requirements by tomorrow at noon and I'll extend the due date to Friday.” He added, “Though I would like to further this discussion so if you have it done by Thursday's class I'll give some extra credit.”
On that note, the class concluded.
“Trevor, (Y/N),” Dr. Miller called the two of us to his desk as the rest of the class began to exit the room. We both smiled for different reasons.
Maybe a repeat of the other night? I secretly hoped.
Dr. Miller rounded his desk and placed his hands flat on top of it as we both approached.
“I'm glad you attended the office hours Thursday night,” he said, glancing at Trevor first and then holding my gaze for just a second or two longer. “It made for a great discussion today and a new assignment I haven't done with my classes before.”
I took a deep breath and smiled.
“That's all,” he added with a grin, “Just.. keep up the good work.” His eyes shifted toward the door when the last person filtered out and then back to the two of us.
“Thank you, Dr. Miller.” Trevor’s nasally voice was far more tolerable.
“Thank you,” I echoed.
“Alright,” he looked to Trevor, “You can go. I know everyone has a job to get to tomorrow. Go home. Sleep on it. We’ll talk in a few days.”
Much to my surprise Trevor looked at me and smiled, “Good job.”
“Thanks Trevor.” I smiled cordially and watched as he skipped happily away without a thought of whether I was the last one in the classroom or not.
Dr. Miller reached for his glasses and placed them back on. He folded his arms across his chest again and nodded at me with a sense of approval. “You should speak up more, ya know. You could generate some damn good discussions in here.”
“I know. I should, I just-”
“Have some confidence. You've got a lot going for you.”
“Thanks.” I smiled softer now. There was always something about direct compliments that made me uncomfortable.
Yet his hand down your pants didn't make you uncomfortable..
I had to accept that this thing, whatever it was, would never completely make sense. I wasn't making sense. But I was, ultimately, okay with that.
“What're you doing now?” Dr. Miller asked. He ran a hand through his hair. It was short, though it began creeping over the tops of his ears. It suited him.
“I, uh..” my eyes shifted toward the open door and then back to him. “I don't know.”
He gave a laugh, apparently already knowing what I had in mind. “Lots of people are still hanging around the building tonight.” Dr. Miller quickly squashed my idea of an encore though reached into his pocket for his car keys, “You up to go for a ride?”
Of course I was up to go for a ride. When I smiled he scrunched his nose and chuckled. Despite the subtle grays in his hair and some crows feet by his eyes, there was something very boyish in his features. It wasn't often when someone could pull off such an intense sex appeal while being equally adorable. It was all part of Dr. Miller's charm.
“Come on.” He nodded, “I'm going to use the stairs. Go up the elevator, pull your hood up and meet me at my car.”
The sneaky nature of our borderline devious behavior added to my addiction; to my infatuation with my professor and every taboo act we committed together. I agreed without hesitation and felt, again, like I was flying so high as I entered the vacant elevator.
I couldn't wait. Even though it would only be a minute or two before I saw Dr. Miller again I couldn't wait until I was beside him in his passenger seat without a care in the world for where we would end up.
We could have driven five minutes or five hours. I wouldn't have questioned it. There was nowhere else I would rather be.
The cold nipped at my cheeks as I exited the building but it was a welcomed contrast to the heat that had made a permanent home on my face. I exhaled a puff of white air and eyed the lot, immediately spotting the Mercedes amongst the thinned out crowd of vehicles.
Dr. Miller was waiting there already. He stood beside the car and must've hit a starter on his key ring because the car suddenly roared to life as I approached.
I was waiting for some, ‘come with me if you want to live’ line but he simply smiled and ducked into the driver’s side and so I followed his lead and joined him inside.
“Hungry?” He asked.
“Very.” I smiled. And thirsty.
“There's a good, little place up near Woodstock. Might not be a bad idea to get a little distance from this place.”
Woodstock was at least a forty minute drive. I knew those forty minutes would fly by, and it sounded like a little slice of heaven to be stuck in a car with Dr. Miller for that length of time.. and then back.
“I'm up for the drive if you are.”
He knew I would say yes. Being with Dr. Miller felt free and easy while contradictory, nerve-wracking and tense. I wasn't sure where on the scope of inappropriate our relationship fell but there was a part of me that knew it shouldn't have been happening. Acknowledging that certainly wasn't a deterrent. It was the exact opposite actually.
“So, what are your thoughts on the topic in class?” He asked. “Should everyone who has ever taken a life be branded with the same term?”
I was surprised when our talk began with what was happening within the educational setting, though it pleased me. Dr. Miller was honestly interested in what I had to say. It gave me.. hope.
“No,” I said, shaking my head as he glanced over for a brief second while he drove. “I think sometimes people are forced to act.. like in the self defense example. For others, they do it to protect the rest of us.”
“Like someone in the military.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “Or even the people in charge of those lethal injections.”
Dr. Miller glanced over at me again, staring as long as he could manage safely before looking back out the windshield. “Why don't you elaborate on that?”
“Well.. someone has to do that job. I'm assuming those that do have some kind of thick skin and can handle it. Maybe that makes them just a bit..” I searched for the right word in my head, “..darker than your average Joe but I feel like they have to believe they're doing a good deed by eliminating some truly awful people from the world.. ya know?”
Dr. Miller was tense again. I almost thought something I said might have angered him from the way his hand tightened against the wheel. It was so much so that a squeak edged out from beneath his palm against the leather.
“I'm sorry. I mean.. maybe not.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“You obviously feel differently.”
“I don't,” he stole another quick glance and let out a relieved laugh. “And even if I did you should never apologize for voicing your opinion.”
“Okay.”
“And.. I'm glad you finally put your social media on private,” he added, smirking when I whipped my head in his direction. “I almost wish I hadn't advised you of that.. for my own selfish reasons.”
I laughed lightly now. I loved knowing he thought of me in his private time. The details of how or why didn't matter to me in the least. I was on his mind - at least to some degree.
“What was the original assignment going to be?” I asked him. “The one you crumpled up.”
“Just some generic paper on the topic. This seemed a lot more interesting to me.” He added, “I'm eager to see what you come up with.”
Dr. Miller’s approval was something I craved. For only knowing the man for a short period of time it shouldn't have been like that - at least not to the extent I felt it.
In the bouts of silence in between our conversations I snuck glances at him as he drove. I had been told over the years that I had a knack for reading people. It was mainly something I did quietly and, most of the time, without judgment. There was something there inside Dr. Miller that made my brain ache for discovery.
The man appeared as cool and calm as he did tense, at times. It didn't make sense. I knew it wasn't just some type of forbidden attraction toward me - though I would have been perfectly okay with that. He could have pulled the car over and taken me right there in the passenger seat and both of us knew I would have happily obliged. There was something else; something bigger.
I toyed with the idea of calling him out on it, not in a disrespectful way; but a part of me wanted to take him off-guard again like I had in the bar the week before. At the same time, I didn't want to say the wrong thing and shatter the night into a thousand pieces for me to pick up. For that reason, I played it safe and kept the tone light - for now.
“Ever been up to the Catskills?” Dr. Miller asked as he took an exit that led down a wooded back road.
“I went skiing a few times up this way,” I told him with a nod, and then added, “Never been to Woodstock, though.”
“Too bad it's dark,” he said, glancing over at me as his blinker led us down another dark road, “There’s a nice view of the mountains down this way.”
“Have to come back during the day some time.”
“In the fall it's even better.”
The way the two of us conversed felt oddly normal. While my blossoming crush on him left me feeling a bit overwhelmed at times, the communication between the two of us flowed naturally. There wasn't anything that felt forced.
Finally, beyond the arboraceous route that we’d been on since exiting the highway, a quaint downtown street emerged, seemingly out of nowhere. Beyond it I could see the outline of the mountains Dr. Miller was speaking of.
The Mercedes eased into a parking spot on the side of the road where a collection of other vehicles were parked. He turned and looked at me for a second and then motioned to a little restaurant on the corner.
“You know the old saying, ‘you could at least take me to dinner first'?”
I chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah.”
“Well, I'm sorry about doing this backwards.” He smiled and it made me feel content - like something more than just sex was on his mind. I hoped that was the case, because I was already set on jumping in with both feet.
The interior of the place had a warm feel to it. A fire burned in the back corner and gave off a pleasant, cozy aroma immediately as we entered. The wait staff was eager to tend to the two of us and, much to my liking, sat us at a little table not far from the fireplace.
“I can see why you wanted to make the drive up here,” I said to him, taking in the surroundings.
“I live out this way,” Dr. Miller confessed. “About fifteen minutes in the direction back toward Woodbridge.” He glanced up and thanked the waitress as she brought our menus, while offering us a moment to look them over.
“So what is it about a half-an-hour ride to work for you?” I asked, trying to sound casual though the thought of possibly going back to his house made my thoughts spin in circles for a moment.
“More or less.”
I cleared my throat and glanced at the menu, taking a deeper breath than I must have realized because Dr. Miller smirked to himself and his eyes fleetingly landed on mine.
When the waitress returned I ordered the stuffed chicken with roasted potatoes and a glass of red wine. Dr. Miller requested a surf and turf meal, along with three fingers of bourbon. And then his attention was fully on me.
“What are you looking for from this?” He asked point blank, folding his hands.
Shit. The question had caught me off-guard and now I was the one who was disarmed. I knew exactly what I wanted; but I wasn't at all prepared to lay it all on the table. I didn't know what to say.
“I, uh.. I don't know,” I said to him. “I don't even know what this is.” The second part was true. The first part - not so much.
“Well I'm an open book,” Dr. Miller went on, “Talk to me. Tell me what you want.”
I opened my mouth and then shut it again before biting down on my lip as I began to think of a way to word what I was truly feeling. When I failed to respond he spoke again.
“How about if we start with a different question,” he suggested.
Yes.. please. “Okay,” I agreed with a nod, thankful for the opportunity to go in another direction.
“Would you be jealous.. or hurt.. if you thought I was fucking someone else?”
Had my chin just hit the floor? Because I couldn't control the reaction I felt forming on my face. This question wasn't any more subtle.
He's not a subtle man, I reminded myself.
“Would I be..” I began and he finished the sentence that trailed off in my mouth.
“..jealous if you saw me here with someone else.” He toned down the vulgarity in his rephrase of the same question.
“Yes,” I responded honestly. It triggered what felt like a jolt of electricity through my body.
“Were you okay with what happened the other night?”
“Yes.” That one was easier.
“Good,” Dr. Miller replied. His eyes lifted as our drinks were set down in front of us and he reached for his glass. “Now.. I just need to know what you're looking for.”
“What does that mean?” I couldn't even sip my drink though I watched as his lips connected with the short, whiskey glass.
“I think we have a connection,” he told me, keeping the drink between his hands now. Dr. Miller swirled the glass and glanced down at the liquid as he did. “And it makes me want to get to know you a whole lot better.” His eyes burned into mine now, “You have something that I want.”
I swallowed extra hard and looked at him, shaking my head. “What do you mean?” Did he mean sexually? Emotionally? Did he think I stole his family’s fortune? It was such a vague, obscure statement.
“I want you,” he said now.
In the midst of the honesty that he was bestowing upon me, however confusing, I blurted out my truth. “I want to be with you. I want to try having a relationship. Not just.. something casual.”
It was me who was hiding behind my wine glass now. There. I had said it. Is that what Dr. Miller wanted too? Could I even be with a man who I couldn't even address by his first name?
The lie detector in him was out in full force. I could tell. His eyes shifted to every part of me he could see as if he was, quite literally, reading me like a book.
“Why?” He asked me.
“Because I feel it too,” I told him. “The connection. I felt it the first time we spoke that time after class. I felt it at The Library. I feel it now.”
Dr. Miller's hand abruptly reached out and latched onto my wrist with a force that made me jump. He pulled his hand back immediately and then looked at me in a way that made me shudder. It was almost as if the man I had just been speaking with was replaced by a dark replica.
“I'm sorry,” he sighed and sipped his drink before composing himself enough to address me again. His first question had me confused.. again. “How many sick days have you accrued this year?”
“Huh?”
“Sick days.” His voice was slightly impatient now.
“I, uh.. I don't know. I took one day in the fall when I didn't feel good-”
“Whatever app or website your school system uses, take a sick day.”
“I, uh.. what?” I was fumbling on my words. I knew Dr. Miller was becoming frustrated but his delivery wasn't at all making sense. I was trying to read between the lines, or connect the dots, but I felt like I was lost in a puzzle.
The tables had turned. I noticed a shake in his hand as he lifted the bourbon glass to his lips. Only I knew it wasn't nerves. He was angry.. or so I thought.
“I'm sorry,” I said immediately. “I don't know what you want me to do.”
He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “I want you to take a sick day tomorrow.” He added, “If you don't mind.”
“Okay.” I blindly agreed. His demand had purpose. I was sure of that. I even had a haunch as to why he had hit me with such an adamant request - one that was lined with emotion and angst from the inside out.
“I'm sorry,” he apologized now, “I'm not trying to control you.”
“Yes you are,” I shot back immediately, prompting his eyes to lift and meet mine with a hint of surprise. “And I'm okay with that.”
When Dr. Miller's hand grabbed mine this time I didn't jump. His grip was just a little too tight, his eyes a little too.. savage. Still, I felt this unmatchable attraction as he looked at me in a way that I imagined the Big Bad Wolf might look at Little Red Riding Hood. There was a part of me that felt afraid, though at that moment I knew the intensity of his feelings matched mine.
I had sought him out in our days apart. I had driven around town in search of his car. I had entered his name in every search engine I could think of. I had looked at the handwritten phone number he had so lewdly slipped in my bra the night after our on-campus rendezvous. I was just as crazy as he was.
“Call out sick,” he demanded more adamantly now. “Take out your phone and send it in to your school.”
I did as he demanded. I put in for my second sick day that year and I could only imagine the punishing prize that was in store for me for obeying such a request.
When I clicked on the ‘submit’ button my eyes lifted to meet his. “Done.” I knew why, but I wanted to hear it from his lips. “Can you tell me why you wanted me to do that so badly?”
“Because..” His nostrils flared. His jaw clenched. His hand tightened around the glass of bourbon. “We’re going back to my house tonight.”
Dr. Miller wasn't asking for permission. He was giving me an order. The second order of what I hoped was a laundry list of more. I didn't care if it was twisted or weird or wrong. I didn't care what anyone in the world might think if they knew. All I cared about, right then, was that he wanted me in the same animalistic way that I wanted him. We were on the same page in the same book.. and I couldn't wait to get to the next chapter.
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hello!!
First a funny little thing: I started following u like an hour ago bc ur gravity falls fanart is the coolest I've ever seen and I've been falling into the gravity falls hole again lately and then!!!! I see someone reblogging ur tf2 art and I'm like "hmmmm that artstyle is familiar".. well I think its very funny that ur two current fandoms are also those I'm currently obsessed with hshssh
Okay now on to an actual ask!! What are ur fav headcanons for tf2 and gravity falls?
augh thank you!!!! i'm glad you enjoy both of the fandoms i make the most art for!
as for headcanons, i'll give one for each main character in both gf and tf2 :)
(down here)
gravity falls
dipper- paints his nails to keep from chewing on them and wears a rubber charm necklace to keep from chewing on all his shirts. he hasn't found a trick to stop himself from chewing on pens, unfortunately
mabel- practiced shooting her grappling hook gun to the point where she's a very good shot. ford's teaching her to handle a crossbow (against his better judgement) for what they call self-defense against gnomes
stan- he canonically speaks some spanish but in my mind he's fluent! + he loves watching telenovelas with soos' abuelita
ford- the whole "drinking coffee constantly to stay alive" thing in journal 3 kind of ruined coffee for him. he'll take tea instead thanks
soos- the embodiment of "you can do anything you set your mind to." he's learned to work on cars, clothes, plumbing, electrical, and even computers with nothing but a few youtube walkthroughs and an outdated paper manual for each project
wendy- listens to death metal and isn't beating the "coolest girl in gravity falls" allegations
fidd- grows his hair longer and trims his beard shorter post-canon. has a rad old guy ponytail and no longer gets band aids stuck to his face
pacifica- cuts her hair short after weirdmageddon and eventually stops dyeing it. she's a lot happier with how she looks now!
tf2 (red team)
pyro- lots of the flooring in the main base is concrete or ceramic tile, so they enjoy painting on the floor, particularly in the corners of rooms, along hallways, and on individual floor tiles, creating a permanent "pyro was here" sign
solly- sees "hazardous material, do not eat" labels as a challenge. he is full of uranium, lead, wood chips, pebbles, formaldehyde, and more!
scout- jogs every morning and can never find anyone willing to run with him since he's much faster than everyone
sniper- best driver out of all the mercs. everyone trusts sniper to stay sharp when driving long distances and make good judgement calls in the event of a blu-vs-red chase
medic- extremely extroverted. if he can't engage in conversation with another human for ten minutes he will probably die
spy- very well read but he dislikes re-reading books, hence the large library in his smoking lounge. always ordering new books and magazines
heavy- can't stand seeing the state some of his teammates allow their weapons to get to (usually out of forgetfulness), so he often insists on letting him clean and polish them. heavy weapons guy cares about maintaining his guns and so should you
engie- does math for fun. he's a sick and twisted man
demo- wears pajamas under his work gear so that he can 1) be comfy in battle and 2) strip off his armor and boots immediately after a mission and go take a ten hour nap. he also gets cold often (despite working in a hot climate) and likes to wear the extra layers
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Cookies
25 Days of Ficmas
Relationship: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader
Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick
Request: No
Warnings: Fluff
Word Count: 1,438
Masterlist: Here
Top Gun Masterlist: Here
Summary: Hangman takes his lady home for the holidays and she gets to experience a Seresin Christmas, with all the nieces and nephews.
“You’ll be fine, baby! Just come on and pack!” Jake called out to his girlfriend. She ran around their home, making sure that she had absolutely everything ready to go for their flight. The man laughed as he followed her into the bedroom for her third lap, and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her close to his body with a chuckle.
“Jake, seriously! I need to double check the rooms and make sure we didn’t leave anything. Stop!” She started to laugh a she buried his face into her neck. The beard he had been growing for about a week tickled along her neck, sending her into a fit of giggles.
“Darling,” he drawled, “relax a little bit, alright? We’ll be alright. Now, come on. We’ve got a plane to board.” Jake dragged hiss girlfriend along with him to the front door where their bags sat, waiting for them. The couple grabbed the bags, and made their way to the airport. While Jake didn’t like to fly civilian, none of his friends could take them home for Christmas, which he understood. So he sucked it up, and had to trust a stranger with his flight. Thankfully, there wasn’t too much trouble in between California and Texas, which meant that their flight was smooth sailing.
Stepping out into the Texan airport, Jake stopped and took a deep breath in, and out. His girlfriend chuckled at his overdramatic actions , and continued to grab their luggage from the carousel. It was a blissfully chilly day in Austin, made evident by all the locals wearing coats to come pick up their loved ones. A sign saying “Mr. and Mrs. Hangman” catches the couples attention, while Jake starts laughing. His mom is standing there by herself, but everyone knew that the rest of the Seresin clan was waiting at the house.
“Jake! Oh hi babies!” She ran over and grabbed the couple in a tight hug. Mrs. Seresin pulled away and petted the top of Jake’s head lovingly.
“Oh look at you. You look well fed,” she turned to the other woman in the area, “and you my dear! You look positively glowing! Oh we can’t wait to have you too home.” And they began to make their way to the tuck, and to the ranch. The entire ride home was spent catching up, and talking about everything they can expect this Christmas. While this was not the first time the family was meeting Jake’s lover, it was the first Christmas that they had spent together. As they pulled up to the house, the family dogs came out and ran all around the truck. Jessie and Jenny were two Border Collie mixes that helped with farm work and were never excluded from festivities. Jake laughed as they tackled him into the ground, while his girlfriend took pictures instead of helping him up. Eventually, he managed to pull himself away, only to be tackled as soon as he walked through the front door yet again.
The dogs came in, but Hangman was, instead, tackled by tiny humans. His nieces and nephews got excited when they saw uncle Jake walk through the door. They climbed all over him, and laughed as he picked them up and swung them around.
“Oof! If you guys get much olde and bigger, I won’t be able to do this.” The kids let Jake up after a few minutes while his sisters came over and welcomed the other adults into the room. His dad was nowhere to be seen but he usually didn’t get to the home until after he got off of work.
“You guys are just in time,” his sister, Savannah, piped up, “we were just about to decorate some cookies. Y’all wanna join?” The couple happily agreed and made their way over to where the rest of the family had set up the cookie station.
“Uncle Jake, will you help me with my cookies?” One of his nieces, Clara, asked with wide eyes. Before he could say yes, another voice spoke.
“No! I want uncle Jake to help me!” Trevor, his oldest nephew, shouted. Savannah reprimanded the boy for shouting, and Clara began to cry. But, the adults in the room remained calm, and Jake grabbed both child’s hand.
“How about uncle Jake helps both of you on your cookies? There’s no reason why you can’t share. It’s Christmas kids! Come on. Let’s make some cookies for Santa to enjoy later.” This seemed alright with both children, and they happily started on their cookies with their sibling, and favorite uncle. A wail rang through the house and Jake’s other sister, Daisy, dropped her materials in favor of answering it. The rest of the family had fun putting different frostings on each cookie and covering them with different sprinkles. Eventually, Daisy came back in with a little bundle in her arms, and a small child behind her legs.
“Akie! Akie!” The little girl, who looked no more than two years old, yelled when she saw who was at the table. He gasped, and turned around with a big smile on his face. Jake dropped down to one knee and accepted the little girl barreling towards him.
“That’s Jake, sweetie. Jake.” Daisy enunciated his name for the little girl.
“Akie!” She continued to yell, causing everyone to chuckle. Her mother simply shook her head and bounced the little bundle in her arms.
“How you doin’ miss Anna Marie? You being good for your momma?” Jake asked, as he stepped away from the table for a bit. But Clara and Trevor didn’t mind. They simply pulled Jake’s girlfriend over to help them instead. The little girl nodded in Jake’s arms while he walked over towards his youngest sister. He kept his voice low as he talked to her, careful not to disturb the sleeping baby in her arms.
“How’s Jackie been lately?” He asked, looking at the little girl in his sister’s arms.
“She’s been good. Being a baby so I’m not getting much sleep, but her daddy has been helping whenever he’s home even though I know he’s dog gone tired.” She smiled at her brother and her oldest daughter. Anna Marie decided to snuggle into Jake’s chest, and if her hands weren’t full, Daisy would’ve taken a picture.
“That’s good to hear Mike’s helpin’ even with his schedule. Means I don’t have to beat anyone up this holiday season.” They both chuckled and watched the kitchen with interest. His lover, and his family were all having fun making a mess of the cookies. Gravel crunched outside, signaling the arrival of the men, besides Jake. His father, and both brother-in-law’s walked through with grocery bags in their hands; he had no doubt that they were sent to the store earlier by his mom. Jake went around and greeted everyone else as they came indoors, all while little Anna Marie stayed snuggled into his chest. She finally let go in favor of cuddling her dad, and Jake returned to the table where they had saved a few cookies for the rest of the family to make. He placed his hands on his girlfriend’s waist, and leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek.
“Having fun, darling?” He asked looking at the cookies.
“We most certainly are. Whatcha think?” She pointed to the cookies in front of her. They looked delicious, even if they weren’t going to be winning any contests anytime soon.
“They look good, baby,” he leaned in close to whisper in her ear, “not as good as you.” Jake pressed a cheeky kiss to her neck, while she turned around to swat him in the chest.
“Jake Seresin!” She hissed, but the smile on her face betrayed her actual feelings. He laughed behind her, and made no move to remove himself from her.
“I’m glad you came, baby. You fit right in.” He said sincerely, as she turned to face him once again.
“Me too, handsome. I’m glad I came.” They shared a short, sweet kiss before the kids at their feet started to “ew” loudly. Jake turned to face his oldest niece and nephew.
“Y’all two be careful, or else you’ll suffer the same fate!” He began to chase the kid around the room with laughter coming out of everyone. The kids laughed as they ran around before eventually being caught by Jake. And Daisy, with her arms still full with baby Jackie, had Mike record a short video for Savannah of Jake and the kids playing, with the Christmas tree in the background. Screenshots from that video became several new lock screens that Christmas.
#rebelliousstories#writing#top gun imagine#top gun#top gun maverick imagine#top gun maverick#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman x reader#hangman seresin x reader#hangman imagine#hangman top gun#hangman seresin x you#hangman fic#top gun maverick hangman#hangman x reader#hangman x y/n#25 days of ficmas#25 days of christmas
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Random gt drabbles: Mother
Characters: Markus (ft. Jane briefly)
Safe for work • @smol-smoggie
———————
The commotion near the entrance had been growing more unorderly as the night deepened. Usually, it didn’t bother him much. That kind of thing was almost a lullaby at a haunt like this. But when shouts of protest joined the laughter, he knew someone had past their limit.
Jane elbowed his forearm, giving Markus a meaningful look over her tiny glass of mead. Markus sighed, tipping back the rest of his drink before standing. Being big was a dumb fucking responsibility sometimes.
Luckily, this crowd required minimal effort. The drunken travelers were searching through a couple’s luggage at their protests, tugging at the carpet bags. The couple looked older, too — easy targets. Markus’ shadow fell over the group, and everyone forgot how to speak.
“Time to pay your tab,” he said, leaning down to pluck a mug of ale out of one’s hand. “And get out.”
He downed the pint like a sip and let the mug clatter to the stone floor. It bounced on the flagstone several times, rolling to the boots of the offending drunk. Without hesitation, the men fled. Markus eyed the old couple, already gathering their belongings to make their way towards the barkeep.
“Thank you, young man,” the old lady said.
“You ought to pick your inns more carefully,” he grunted back.
In the edge of his vision, he saw her give a start, the way most people did when a giant acknowledged them directly. He was starting back for Jane when he heard her call after him. “M-Markus?”
He stopped short and whirled on them. They were brittle-looking humans. Older, dressed in clean, modest clothes. The man was still gathering spilt belongings, but the woman was edging closer to Markus’ boots.
Too old to have fucked — he was pretty sure.
How could she possibly know his name?
“Markus, sweetheart, it’s…” She swallowed hard. “It’s you, isn’t it? Do you remember me?”
His jaw went slack. “You,” he breathed. He knelt down, trancelike as she rushed at him. He could see her face under her traveling hat now. The woman who had briefly taken him in. The closest thing to a mother he’d had after his own had passed away.
After all this time, he’d imagined they’d forgotten about that bizarre chapter in their life.
“Look at you,” she crooned. “You’ve grown so much. And so handsome.” Shakily, she touched the hand he had resting on the floor. The last time he’d held her, she’d fit across the whole of his hand. Now, she’d be able to sit in his palm with room to spare.
“You remember me?” Markus couldn’t help but ask.
“Oh, Markus,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. Crying. “I missed you every day. Darling—” She spun, seizing her husband’s arm and yanking him forward. “It’s him.”
The man’s weathered face looked up and up. His brows nearly lifted right off his face when recognition dawned. He gave another once-over, as though growing nervous in light of their less-than-mutual parting those many years ago.
“You got bigger, boy,” he greeted, voice taut.
Markus barked a small laugh, remembering the coarse nature. “You didn’t.”
“Hmm.”
Mother rushed at him again, like she couldn’t contain herself. She gathered her skirts. “Don’t leave an old lady on the floor. Pick me up, let me get a better look at you.”
Hesitantly, Markus scooped her into his palm and brought her to his face. He grunted to keep her from falling as she lunged at his face, touching his chin and the short beard peppering his square jaw. Her hands were still cool and soft, the way he remembered.
“It’s like you’ve never seen a giant before,” he muttered, muscling down the flush in his cheeks. The prickle of wetness in his eyes.
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Don't Starve Together (Slow Dance)
Wilson:
✿He'll be all flustered after you ask him to dance. No one has ever done that for him, and his dancing skills are rusty.
✿Never the less he says yes after putting down his wrench and wiping his hands of oil.
✿ While dancing he's a little stiff at first. Avoids eye contact the whole time and steps on your feet at least 2 times. Mumbles a small apologie while a blush grows on his face.
✿ After a while, he gets in the flow and loosens up taking the lead in the dance. Twirls you around once of twice while still stepping on your feet.
✿ Makes a note to make a radio to play music for the two of you next time you dance.
O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O
Willow:
✿ She laughs at first when you ask her calling it dumb while blushing at your gesture. She'll still dance with you though.
✿ Girl can't really dance that well. Not that's she's clumsy, she just hasn't had anyone to dance with so she has no experience.
✿ You'll have to lead most of the time while she tries to get in the flow. Once there though she has no problems with taking the lead. Might get bored and do a couple of twirls.
✿ Suprise her by dipping and giving her a small kiss. She'll seem mad, but deep down she's just swooned and flustered by the action.
✿ You can sometimes catch her practicing with Bernie.
O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O
Wolfgang:
✿ Confused at first. He's never slow-danced with anyone. Ever.
✿ For you though he'll take the time to learn. This means you have a lot of explaining to do since he wants to do this right.
✿ Poor thing is scared he'll accidentally hurt you while you're both dancing so you have to lead the whole time.
✿ Doesn't really enjoy spins and prefers to just be close to you enjoying the small, quiet, gentle moment you two can have together.
✿ The next time he'll be the one to ask you if he can dance with you. Secretly takes dance lessons with Wickerbottom so he's not as stiff.
O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O
WX-73:
✿ When you ask them if they would like to slow dance it took them a while to respond. Once they do though it's just them saying "THAT'S A WASTE OF TIME TO DO SUCH A SLOW BORING HUMAN ACTIVITY,".
✿ After seeing you sulk for a bit though they'll take one of Wickerbottom's books and quickly read how to slow dance.
✿ One day they'll walk over to you and hold out a hand declaring that they will have that dance (you asked a week ago). You can't ask questions though or they'll take it back.
✿ Tries to lead the whole dance and they're a little ruff and stiff while dancing, but once they see you smile they'll leave knowing that they completed their job.
✿ Doesn't want to do it again, but for you, it's a maybe.
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Wickerbottom:
✿ Out of everyone, she can slow dance the best. So when you asked her for a dance, she was happy to oblige and enjoy the dance.
✿ Takes the dance slow and doesn't do as many spins and twirls, since she likes the comfort of being close to someone she loves.
✿ If you both don't have music she'll hum a song that you both would know. In the range of 50's 60's 70's love songs.
✿ Once the dance is done she'll give you a curtsey and a small peck to your cheek while holding your hands. Says a quick thank you before going back to reading.
✿ Will ask you if you want to do other dances. Believe it or not, she can do the swing and is down to do that.
O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O
Woodie:
✿ This kind-hearted Canadian couldn't turn down your offer for a dance, even if dancing isn't up his alley he can still do a simple slow dance.
✿ It may be bad, but he has fun with it. Hums a song, tickles you with his beard while you're close, and might do a twirl or two. Will share the lead with you.
✿ Woodie will take his gloves off to slow dance with you and set them next to Lucy as she cheers you two on.
✿ He's a little stiff, not as bad as WX-73 or Wilson, but still stiff when it comes to moving. Nevertheless, he'll have a strong yet gentle grip on you.
✿ He likes to think back to the dance when he's cutting down trees and can get lost in the moment and start dancing with Lucy.
O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O
Wes:
✿ The best dance out of all the people in the Constant. I mean he was a performer and even though he's a little clumsy when it comes to dancing he's your guy.
✿ He's asked you to dance a couple of times before, but when you asked him for a dance he was speechless (get it). After a while, he happily shook his head yes while fanning himself.
✿ Takes the dance nice and slow twirling you around a couple of times. Takes the lead, but he tries to give you the lead sometimes.
✿ Stares longingly at you before placing a kiss on your lips leaving behind a black lipstick stain. Does this a couple of other times and gets extremely flustered if you do it back.
✿ Will ask for slow dances on more tiring days/nights or when it's just a lazy day.
O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O
Wigfrid:
✿ Another person of the arts. So when you ask her to dance, even if she finds it too simple she'll still slow dance with you.
✿ Since she know how to dance she'll probably end up leading the whole dance. Doing spins and dips to spice it up to her liking.
✿ Might even lift you up just to take the opportunity to show off her strength. Laughs at your flustered state.
✿ If you ask her to slow it down however she'll listen to your wishes and slow down the dance. This might make her a little stiffer so that way she doesn't speed up, but she'll listen begrudgingly.
✿ Ask you for a dance next time, only this one might have a faster pace to it. On the plus side, she'll sing along. Please clap for her once she's done.
O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O
Winona:
✿ Since her sister is Charlie it's a bit of a given that she may have danced with Charlie when they were both younger.
✿ When you ask her to dance she'll be confused as to why but she'll still happily dance with you laughing while placing down the wrench.
✿ Good at dancing too. Not the best like Wes or Wigfrid, but she's not the worst. Share the lead with you and likes to take the dance slow.
✿ Makes sure to have a firm but general hold on you as you both sway back and forth. Might even lift you as well.
✿ Once the dance is down she'll realize she left her oiled stained gloves on and start to apologize while finding a clean cloth to wipe off the stains.
O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O
Warly:
✿ He's like Winona in the sense that he's not the best dancer, but he's not the worst. Slow dancing, however, might be one of his specialties because of his mom.
✿ When you ask him for the dance he'll be flustered, but then softly smile at you before saying yes. Sets down his knife and wipes of his hands of any blood or sauce.
✿ Gental while dancing takes it slow. Might do a twirl or two, but not that much. You can always smell the food he cooked that day on his clothes.
✿ Such a sweet boy. While you both gently sway it might remind him of his mom and he'll start to cry a bit. If you ask he'll just tell you it's nothing.
✿ As a thank you he'll make you your favorite dish so you both can share while sitting by the fire. Happy to dance with you again.
#ds x reader#dst x reader#dst#ds#don't starve together#don't starve#don't starve together x reader#don't starve x reader
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asleep me has just decided to start world building i guess
Imagine: you are a misfit teenage boy, a con artist. You have a best friend - or maybe a brother? You two are as close as family regardless. You're in a refugee camp when you pull a con - you pass your best friend off as the newly orphaned son of a noble or something. It's just a ploy - to give him an in with the other wealthy kids so you can steal.
Except… he doesn't really give it up? You ask a couple of times when you're leaving, but Will, your best friend, keeps putting it off. He's fallen in with a new crowd. One that respects him, elevates him. And those new friends? Well, they don't exactly like you.
Will starts sending you off on errands when he's with his friends. You go easily, because you want to be helpful, and you ignore the hushed laughter of his shiny new friends. You go on your fake little missions designed to get rid of you.
That's how you meet the Goddess.
Imagine a clearing, golden light, and a beautiful woman who calls you a trickster and says you are destined to be enemies. Imagine freeing the three chained sun gods by accident. (By fate?) Except you tell the goddess that you don’t believe in fate, and what if you become friends instead?
(You offer to steal her, and she agrees - a fine trick indeed, wouldn't you say?)
After this instance you find something out. You can use magic now? But also it seems like you have been cursed as well - you can’t die. Fate rearranges itself every time. A shield moves to a position it wasn’t in before. A sword misses its mark. You are Loved By Fate and it is an Issue.
Time passes and your best friend grows - and you have to use magic to grow with him. He’s a king now. You love him - he’s still your brother - but his smile is more and more strained every time he sees you.
Your goddess takes many forms travelling with you. Sometimes she is a woman, sometimes she is golden magic inside of a pouch. Sometimes she is a child and travels with you, and somehow you get separated with her like that. The king finds her, and immediately is taken with her. He decides to try and find a family for this child who is shy of everyone, and offers for any individual to come and try their luck to see if the child will take to them
You are the last person to try, not because you don't think your goddess will choose you, but because you are worried even if she does the king will not let her go
The king's friends stop you. You know their faces - they are the same bullies they have always been. They accuse you of being cursed because you never die no matter how many dangerous missions the king sends you on. The suicide missions.
They attack you, and they might be cruel but they aren’t stupid. Their ringleader realizes that it must be magic shifting his shield to protect you from the lethal blows.
(You can see every lethal blow that doesn’t land play through your head. The worlds that did not come to pass. You don’t tell them the number of times they murdered you in this fight. It wouldn’t change anything.)
You manage to escape and run up to the king’s room. Using fate’s magic so much has stripped you away of other magics - you look young again. Awkward and gangly with no facial hair (the way you always have since meeting a goddess and becoming something more than human)
He’s in there with an elven woman, a noble of some kind who is wise and anyone with eyes can see the king is in love with her. (You can see in her eyes that she does not love him back, not in that way.)
The king, after some debate, decides to let you try
(He doesn’t comment on your appearance - maybe he just thinks you have a baby face without your beard. Maybe the way he avoids looking you in the eyes means he doesn’t even notice.)
You reunite, and it is beautiful - your goddess surges forward into your arms and kisses you, and you feel fates magic coursing through you and soothing over the exhaustion from the fight.
But the king doesn’t see a goddess and he doesn’t see the magic - he sees a child and he draws his sword. He says many things - that he didn’t expect you to stoop this low. That he once called you his friend.
(How long has it been since that felt genuine?)
Something goes cold in you and enough is enough. Your goddess’s magic courses through you, and you will not be separated again. You use magic to blast them back, use magic to stun them, and use magic to make you and your goddess into a rat that scurries away into the walls
The magic is powerful enough that a cascade of golden chains has manifested down the wall of the room, branching downward like a geometric tree and each one tipped with an amulet with a large inset ruby
The king and the noble awaken, and the king is furious. But the elven woman looks like all her questions have been answered
She talks about how there haven’t been terrible fires throughout the lands, despite all signs pointing to the fact that the sun gods have been unchained
She names you - trickster, calamity
In mythology apparently you are symbolized by a massive golden peacock, each "feather" in your tail with ruby-gem eyes like the chains on the wall
You are named such because you are the only creature capable of going against fate and changing it
(your train of feathers is instead a train of chains - all the fates that you have broken)
(It should make you enemies with your goddess, but you decided in that clearing twenty years ago that you were friends instead)
Apparently on your suicide missions, you have been helping. Wherever you could, you changed the fate of entire cities and towns and prevented the wildfires of the Sun gods from ravaging the kingdom
The elven woman opens a portrait that has a nook behind it. You are sitting there - well, not you exactly. But a copy of you. You are a trickster and love mischief, and you love secret spaces and those who choose to look in them. That’s enough for a part of you to be present, looking sixteen and glowing with golden light
She speaks in the ancient language to you - and you speak it back without thinking. You tell her she’s just as hot as Will with a wink and it makes her laugh. Will cannot understand what you are saying, but you don’t care right now. He’s your best friend, but you aren’t his, and it hurts
He calls you immature, and the elven woman says you’re only sixteen. He snaps back that you are a thirty-six year old man. She shakes her head, and says that you haven’t been since you Awakened. Gods are different, after all
(Maybe it was the differences that drove you apart? Maybe it’s your fault? But if that is the truth then why was there already so much distance between you? You do not ask your goddess if there was a path where you still would have been close.)
You don’t feel like a god, you feel like a person who is just trying their best. You feel tired. You feel sad. Maybe that’s why you are the one who bends fate - you’re the only one that cares enough to try.
Anyway that’s when I woke up but I like my trickster - important to note that he is a redhead with a bit of a baby face
#dream journal#my dreams#peacock trickster dream#i'm actually really vibing with peacock as the symbolic trickster animal in this world#i am also REALLY vibing with whatever part of my brain made the peacock train be made of broken chains of fate#also i am slightly curious why a) there were three sun gods and b) why were they chained#the implication was that the trickster was the only 'mortal' god#with different incarnations having different goals and morals and messing with things in different ways#and in all the other stories the other gods eventually tire of the trickster and track them down and kill them#and then the trickster is reborn as a mortal and will continue to be reborn until they get into trouble and Awaken#i have named my trickster boy 'russell' for kicks#will actually was named will in the dream though#tfw ur friend leaves you behind for a new crowd#actually tfw u become an immortal teenager and ur mortal friend continues to grow into an adult#also i can't quite describe the horror of watching those bullies realize that i was 'cursed'#and watching them try to kill me. over and over. and being stopped not by mercy or moral but by intervention of a divine power#i will be honest we did not go into that meeting with will in our best headspace#but also honestly?? fuck will for assuming the worst of us !! he was our BEST FRIEND#our BROTHER#and he didn't even ask any questions#like hey russell why does this magical child clearly know and recognize you#noble lady you can do Better honestly
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Collected - a Magnus Archives fic
Jon floated for a thousand years as the pupil of the Eye - by choice, a place he ran, after Martin's death undid him.
Now, he finds himself pulled from that hell and into a new, weird world - one in which many versions of the people he knew are trying to make a new life.
And who is behind this, apparently? Jurgen Leitner.
Jon barely feels like a person again, and trusts nothing but Martin. This is, perhaps, wise.
Spoilers for the whole show. This is post-MAG 200.
Part two of the Magnus Monsterverse AU.
AO3
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I stared at myself in the small mirror, but no matter how hard I looked, I still felt unfamiliar.
I looked like someone related to me, perhaps—someone who had made a lot of pilgrimages, or lived entirely on vegetables, or inspired some ridiculous motion picture about a holy man or tapasvi.
I thought this insult of a film might star Kevin Costner or Dustin Hoffman, aping whatever culture seemed most “exotic” at the box office. Then I remembered that these actors had been dead for nearly a thousand years, had only been popular in my childhood, and likely existed nowhere now beyond my memory.
Our memory. The Eye was, after all, here.
They were all here. Multidimensional, evidently, though Martin didn’t really want to explain.
The man in the mirror looked mournfully back at me. His beard was nearly trimmed, more white than black. His hair…
It had always been thick, but I’d never let it grow beyond a student-appropriate scruff, and certainly kept it short when in the workplace. Well, centuries floating as the Pupil of the Eye had taken care of that.
It was long and very thick. More than a little wavy, heavily streaked with white. It made me look like an entirely different person.
Why had Sasha not cut it? The aesthetic, she’d said.
I had no idea what that meant until I did, knowledge dropped into me, and now I felt very silly. I wasn’t some… young and stylish thing, but whatever.
I was an entirely different person. Sasha told me my body was far from human now. It looked human—if I concentrated, keeping my many eyes closed—but it was not. Evidently, it swung back and forth between being hundreds of eyeballs in a man-shaped sack, or some kind of light beams which defied all attempts to study it. Fiber optics came to mind—knowledge transmitted via light.
Honestly, both descriptions were horrifying. Or they should have been. I… found them more baffling than anything else. For heaven’s sake, how was I producing saliva? How did my tongue articulate? How was I capable of erection?
Careful, Sims. That way danger lies.
The Eye wanted to tell me—to show me what it had done—but if I let it commune that clearly with me again, I might have trouble coming back to myself.
It’d had enough time monopolizing Playground Jon. My turn was overdue.
I fisted my hair (which felt neither like eyeballs, nor light). Martin liked it. So. I would not cut it off. Brushed and kept it would be.
“You okay in there?” Sasha called from the other room.
“Not at all, I’m afraid,” I called back, and walked out to join her.
She smiled. Sasha James looked largely like she had, but somewhere around the time I died at Ny-Ålesund in her world, she’d fallen in with the Flesh.
She was half a foot taller than she’d been when I knew her.
She’d somehow gone on to end the world for the Flesh, too, and had not elaborated how. I could know, but that felt like violation, so I kept that door shut.
There were many doors to keep shut, these days.
“Feeling up for it?” she said.
I knew what she was asking: was I ready to meet my benefactor?
I was not. I still felt as though I were pretending to be a person. It had taken me two weeks just to be able to keep all my extra eyes closed. “Must I do this?” I drawled. “Is it really necessary?”
“Yep.”
“What if I faked an illness?”
“Mm,” she said, and tapped her chin with one sharp, purple fingernail. “That’d be quite the feat, considering you’re immune to pretty much everything now.”
She would know.
I sighed. “I could pretend to madness. Earn a few more days.”
“Martin’s willing to go with you,” she said.
I may not have a heart anymore, but something in my chest still ached. Such an offer cost him.
After he killed my counterpart, the Lonely had him for fifteen years. By the time Tim and Manuela opened a shocking door of fire and crackling sound above his wine-dark sea, Martin had drifted so long in cold, crushing silence that he couldn’t remember how to talk.
He struggled, now, to accept a world with people. Struggled not to loathe everyone and everything. Except me. And I don’t know how I held a sweet place in his heart after what I did.
If he was willing to do this, then I would go through with it. “All right.”
“Come on. You look fine.”
I looked down. Green button-down; jeans. Ankle boots. None of it I picked out, but as I still looked human outwardly, going naked was neither comfortable for anyone, nor practical for me. “Should I look scary instead? Go all eyes,” I said, glancing up at her.
She wore the extra inches she’d given herself quite well. “Don’t think it matters. Jurgen’s seen it all.”
“I doubt that.” My tone was dry.
“Well, he did say you’re the first you he’s met.”
I’d been warned there were multiple versions of us out there. “How the hell does that even work, anyway? Are there multiple versions of… all of us here?”
“Some of us.”
“How is it determined who is brought here?”
“I’m not part of that process,” she said. “You’ll have to ask him.”
The Eye offered to tell me. No. I may be unable to avoid things like the colloquial definition of the aesthetic being dropped into my head, but I could refuse the bigger ones.
I’d had no choice in that before, neither when I was still human, nor during the apocalypse, I wasn’t yet certain if this were a new skill I possessed, or something to do with the place I now found myself in.
With my benefactor.
Jurgen Leitner. I was still struggling with this.
My Leitner (a dubious epithet) had been brutally murdered by a lead pipe. I had never met this one. “How many of the others has he met?”
“That’s a lovely question to ask him!” She beamed.
I sighed. “You’re being awful about all of this, you know.”
“It’s not my job to answer questions. It is my job to prod you into being a better version of yourself,” she said. “Actually, I think it kind of always was?”
“Ha-ha,” I allowed, and we walked out the door to Martin’s smiling face, and the moment I saw him, all my stresses ceased to matter.
#
It was something of a grim apartment block—a gray courtyard-rectangle, framed by two building-rectangles, which were comprised of even smaller flat-rectangles that formed our homes. Each flat was precisely two and a half rooms: a bedroom, a sort of general space for whatever else, and a closet-sized bathroom.
I had a trunk at the foot of my bed with gifted clothes.
There was no kitchen. I didn’t need to eat. Neither, evidently, did anyone else in the place.
We could eat. There was a communal kitchen in the bottom floor of the west building—a conscious choice, so Sasha told me, because it encouraged us to spend at least a little bit of time together.
A week ago, after I left the hospital, I grew curious enough to wander down there and found Jane Prentiss sitting by the refrigerator, staring into a teacup filled with cockroaches.
I fled, and had yet to return.
“You look so good,” said Martin, kissing my cheek.
I leaned in. I would never forget the hollowness of his death—the loss, the tearing, hopeless horror. I would never take his affection, his love, for granted. “You always do.”
“And when I don’t, nobody will ever know,” Martin grinned. He was fully visible today, so he knew how good he looked; a light jumper, comfortable jeans, boots like mine. His curly hair was frost-kissed, the red and white both glinting in the sun.
Laugh lines around his eyes, above his freckles. Eyes that some days were less green, gone almost colorless; but on those days, he also didn’t bother to be fully visible.
Except to me.
“I’m never going to get used to this,” I said, running my fingers through his curls. “Alive. You. Here. I…” Damned throat tightness. (And how did that even work, anyway? What, were the eyeballs constricting? Pupils exhibiting tension dysphonia?)
“Me, neither—and you’re welcome to butter me up more, but we’re still going to meet some people today,” said Martin, because his choice to be social included forcing it upon me.
“Do I have to?” I said. “You know, it could make me late for Leitner. Better skip this bit.”
He put his hands on my shoulders and leaned in and kissed me.
Mm. Alright. Anything he asked would do.
“Don’t be a coward,” he said.
“I am a coward,” I said. “Apparently, that’s half my appeal.”
He held me close, and his impossible heartbeat echoed my own. Right here, right now, I felt like a person. I remembered how. I knew what it was like, and I melted in his arms.
“Come on,” he murmured against my head. “Nobody’s going to hurt you—and we’re… we’re sort of family, now. All of us. We all share kind of a big thing, you know?”
“We all ended the world,” I whisper.
“Yes.”
I swallowed. (Did I have an eyeball instead of an Adam’s Apple? Precisely what was constricting?) “I don’t know how to feel about that.”
He shrugged. “Who would? Come on, or we actually will be late for Leitner.” With his hand in mine, he led me into the communal dining hall.
#
I’d hardly gotten a good look at it the first time. It was your basic cafeteria: tables and chairs, a sort of kitchen area behind a wide, white counter. Checkered floor tiles. Awful lighting.
This time, Mike Crew was in there, along with Oliver Banks, seated at a little square table with tea.
Both of them stared at me.
I stared back.
The Eye tried to give me their stories.
I resisted. “We all just live here?” I blurted.
“Smooth,” said Martin, waving at them. “Hi.”
Mike looked Martin up and down as though he were made of chocolate.
Martin ignored it.
So that happened.
“Wow,” said Oliver, smiling at me. “That’s a good look for you.”
“What?” I managed like an idiot.
Mike sipped his tea. The cup sparked, as if it were secretly made of electrostatic particles. “Huh,” he said. “I killed you in my timeline.”
This was going splendidly. “When I came to see you?” I guessed.
“Yeah,” said Mike. “Cop followed you. Didn’t appreciate it too much, so.” He made a swooping motion with his hand. “Off you both went.”
“Daisy, too?” I said.
“Was that her name?”
“Yes.” I couldn’t sound less stiff.
He didn’t care. “Cool.”
“I didn’t kill you,” Oliver said, and looked sad. “I just didn’t manage to wake you.”
“The coma?” I guessed.
“You chose to stay human.”
Dear lord. “What happened after that?”
Oliver sighed. “The Archivist’s death somehow… empowered me? I don’t honestly know. There was a lot of manipulation from others, and… it was really a mess. I didn’t actually mean to end anything.”
Oh, gods. “I’m so sorry. I know what that’s like. To be used.”
“I meant to do it,” said Mike, chipper and friendly. “We all fell forever in the sky. It was honestly lovely until there wasn’t anyone else left to tumble.”
My swallow was audible. (And just how did my eye-filled throat replicate the sound of a pharynx gulping?)
“What’s on offer?” said Martin, as though none of this were awkward.
Mike looked at his tea. “Green, I think?”
“Silver needle,” said Oliver.
“Not bad,” said Martin. “I don’t see any baked goods. Jack’s not been by today?”
“No, and don’t ask about him,” said Mike. “They’re on the outs again.”
Martin sighed. “I’m not the type of person to say this, normally, but if they’d just fuck already…”
Both the other men laughed.
I didn’t. I stared at him.
“Agnes,” he said.
“Jack Barnabas?”
“Yeah.”
“How is he—he wasn’t an avatar of anything! How did—”
“He’s just here, for some re-”
“Did he end the world, too?” I blurted. “What did he do, boil the world in coffee?”
Mike laughed. “Nikola said you were funny.”
Right, no one mentioned that. “Nikola. She’s here. Like Jane Prentiss.”
“Not like Jane. Imprisoned,” said Martin. “She's not loose.”
“Why the hell is Jane loose?”
“Because she behaves. She doesn’t attack anyone, and she’s got a job handling rubbish dumps.”
I stared at him. “She hated me.”
“She hated the Archives. I have no idea if she’ll hate you now,” said Martin. “There are no Archives here.”
The Archives were the Eye. I am pretty much all eyes. I rubbed my face.
“Cheer up,” said Mike. “Sit down. Have a cuppa. You’ll feel better.”
Come to think of it, Mike wasn’t such a hero, either. “So we all ended the world, by choice or otherwise, and now we’re playing… Game On?”
Mike laughed. It was such a friendly laugh from a sociopath. “Game On? That’s a blast from the past. You watched that show?”
“My grandmother approved of it, for some reason,” I muttered, looking down.
“Martin, you were right,” said Mike chummily. “He’s adorable.”
“Told you,” said Martin.
I was made of eyes, had been removed from my floating, emotionless hell for all of a month, and this was the conversation? “I… I’m not.”
“Would you look at that expression?” said Mike brightly. “Like someone walked over his grave.”
Suddenly, I felt watched.
This… this was a test?
I knew it was.
From whom? Why? Leitner, maybe. I didn’t dare reach for more information, reach into the Eye when I don’t yet know if I could do that and return. But this—whether any of them knew it—was a test. I was just coming out of my cocoon, and here was a man who’d hurt me, lightly flirting with my lover.
A man who sounded nice, but was not. A man who behaved amicably, yet had not cared when his parents died due to his mistake with the Corruption.
He wasn’t being aggressive, but still pressing buttons as if to trigger a response.
Who the hell was watching this? What, was I going to be “imprisoned” like Nikola if I did this wrong?
That was a leap, logically. All I knew was this was a test—possibly without the consent of anyone here—and I did not know why yet. I would not live in paranoia again.
(Let me show you whispered the One who’d had me for damn near a thousand years, and I shuddered.)
“Jon?” said Martin.
“It’s a lot,” I said, going for the truth. I somehow doubt floating in facts for a millennia made me any better of a liar. “I don’t… are we even on different sides, anymore?”
“Sides?” said Mike. “Sure. I’m on the ‘let’s don’t die’ side. You?”
Oliver looked sad. “Sorry, Jon. It is a lot. But you have time to figure it out.”
And suddenly, I wanted a test of my own—to see how they’d react to questions. “But why is this happening? What is the point of it all? What, are we all just being… collected, or something?”
“Damned if I know,” said Mike, and toasted me with his tea. “But I, for one, am grateful to be here. Wasn’t fun, toward the end. I was all that was left.”
I got it, suddenly. “Your god fed on you.”
A crack appeared in his cheer. “My god fed on me. I… I’m still Vast. But I can’t forget that. I can’t just let it go.” He looked down.
Oliver put his arm around Mike’s shoulders. “We’ve all got a lot to process, still.”
The Eye dropped a meme into my head. Vulnerability? In MY sociopath? It’s more likely than you think!
Stop that, I thought at It.
“Text me if Jack brings anything by, okay?” said Martin. “Come on, Jon. Time to meet our benefactor.”
Oliver perked up. “Oh! Good. You’ll like him.”
Mike shrugged. “He’s not awful.” He kept his eyes down; Oliver’s arm stayed around his shoulder.
I didn’t know how to read that after the look Mike had given Martin. Blast it all, what was this drama? This was worse than secondary.
I let Martin lead me away.
The gray rectangles opened onto a lovely street I had not yet seen. It was quiet; a park bloomed across the way, bright with bird-speak and pretty flowers. A few red post-boxes and yellow fire hydrants fit the spring weather and the early bloom.
London, but not one I knew.
There were no cars. I couldn’t hear any, at least. More buildings like ours stretched down the street on this side; there were no shops.
We stopped at the curb and waited.
I couldn’t wait, though, any longer. “Jane Prentiss. Nikola Orsinov. Explain.”
“I’d really rather let Leitner do it,” said Martin.
“But—”
“I hate… all of this. I don’t want to think about so many people. It hurts, Jon.”
I dropped that like a hot potato. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.” He took a deep breath and, instead of a potato, dropped a bomb: “It was thoughts of you that fueled me, you know.”
“Wh… what?” I managed, and at that moment, a car came around the far corner.
It was the first one I’d seen here; expensive and black, rather large, but silent—like someone took a Bentley and refitted it to be electric. It pulled without a sound to a stop in front of us and waited, windows tinted.
“Absolutely haunted,” I proclaimed.
Martin laughed and opened the back door.
#
Maybe it was haunted. The quarter glass was tinted, too, and whoever was behind it never spoke.
“What’s he like?” I said, soft.
Martin shrugged. “If Mick Jagger and Neo from The Matrix had a baby,” he began.
“Stop.” I raised my hands. “Dear lord, Martin, you’re going to summon something.”
He laughed again, then leaned forward and took my hands between his eyes. Tears glistened on his lashes. “I forgot to laugh until you came back. I mean… I’d do it. For people. Because I… I’m trying, Jon. I’m trying so hard.” He stopped to swallow around the roughness in his voice. “But you’re the only one I don't have to try for. I’m tired.”
Don’t panic, I told myself, because I didn’t think I had the power to save him. Don’t panic, I told myself, because I wasn’t even comfortable in my own skin yet, and here if I failed, I might drag him down with me. Don’t panic,I told myself, because this was Martin, and I would do anything to keep him safe.
I brought his hands to my lips and kissed them. “I don’t know what I can do for you. I’m just… I’m just me. Whatever that is anymore. I don’t know. But whatever I am, all that I am, Martin… I’m yours.”
He met my eyes. His own had gone silver with dark gray radial streaks and an eerie limbal ring of blue.
I took a breath and held it, unable to move. I’d never seen anything so beautiful.
So… so horrible, what was I thinking? What was this? Was he in pain? Was he slipping away? Was—
He leaned in, gripped the back of my head, and kissed me with warm breath and warm lips and nary a hint of mist or fading, and I clutched his shoulders and pulled him in for more.
“Silly,” he whispered in my ear. “I’m fine. I saw that look, Jonathan Sims. You got all spooked.”
“I know you’re fine,” I lied, clinging.
“I’m not a ghost, either,” he said.
I was still laughing when the car pulled to a stop and the door was opened by a surprise.
Jared Hopworth bent down nearly double to peer into the back seat, chauffeur cap jaunty on his head, elephantine suit straining at his shoulders. “Come on, lovebirds,” he said. “You ain’t the only job I got today, so move it.”
I gawked at him.
Martin dragged me out of the back. “Thanks.”
“Sure.” Jared gave Martin the same look Mike had.
Maybe I had gone mad, after all. Maybe this was entirely my subconscious inventing a world, revolving around the fact that Martin was desirable, even to me (which was something), and so it only made sense that all the characters with speaking parts would want him.
Or maybe I was just jealous, and had never been good at reading people, anyway.
Jared drove off, the vehicle silent.
Ahead of us rose a ridiculous building that could’ve gone head-to-head with the Magnus Institute, but instead of Victorian academia, this one was a gods-damned church.
It rose in ridiculous splendor, its doorways a pointed arches, its enormous rose window portraying some strange-looking knight battling a hydra. Ornately carved flowers and fluting patterned the building’s facade.
“Why are we meeting in a church?” I said.
“I think it’ll make more sense when you meet him,” said Martin. “He’s, um. Dramatic?”
“Wonderful.”
He smiled and opened the heavy door for me. It was unlocked.
#
The inside of the gothic church was… a gothic church. Flying buttresses. Vaulted ceilings. The pews had been removed, replaced with desks and filing cabinets; boxes of files lined the walls.
Then I caught a glimpse of another Martin and damn near fell over my own feet.
Another—
Another Martin?
Another—
“Steady,” said Martin. “That one’s… that one was never yours.”
“What?” I said, staring at the other Martin.
The other Martin looked spooked and skedaddled. A door slammed.
Everybody else here looked at us.
There were… there were people I did not know, and I was deeply glad of that. But there were also people I did.
Two Jude Perrys, for one, sitting side by side, with wildly different hairstyles. A Melanie, with both her eyes; one, two, three Georgies, who seemed to be focused on some sort of project building a tower from tarot cards.
I couldn’t move. Are we all just being collected? I’d asked Mike, and for one dizzying moment, wondered if I were right.
“I thought Sasha warned you,” Martin whispered.
“Not… really,” I managed.
Another door opened, and all heads turned away from me and toward the other end. “Well, well, well!” boomed a voice I knew—a voice like Christopher Lee’s, a voice with weight and wealth and the wide confidence of a man who rarely hears a no.
It looked like Jurgen Leitner—if Leitner came wrapped in black leather, wearing a pair of green-lensed spectacles (small and round lenses, very trendy, I supposed), numerous rings that sparked with some power tickling the back of my senses, and a gods-damned sword strapped to his hip.
Right. That cinched it. I had definitely gone mad.
“Come on, come on,” he said, gesturing. “Come along, now—nobody’s going to bite you, Jon. May I call you Jon?”
“Please,” I said, years of training in social norms finally coming to use as the parts of my brain in charge of voluntary behavior seemed to have stalled. (The image of a skull full of eyes rolling back in an Edwardian fainting spell did not help at all.)
“Come on, now. Come on!” He held open the door back there—another deep, pointed-arch affair—and beamed.
There were smiles among some of the people here. They still watched me; wary, to a one, and far too many with baggage, but no one yet seemed inclined to attack me, or anything.
All three Georgies looked sad, which was awful.
Martin tugged my arm.
Right. For him, I would do this, and not turn around and run away down the street as fast as I could and hide in the bushes and hope to die a quiet, eye-rolling death where I could harm no one and no one could harm me.
Leitner was taller than I remembered, but then, I’d not been in a good place when we met. “There you are,” he said with great satisfaction, and stepped aside for us to enter his office.
“I think I’m in shock, just so you know,” I informed him as I stepped inside.
“Wouldn’t expect anything else,” he said with great cheer, and closed the door behind us.
------
Notes:
Looks like this monsterverse AU is go. Oh, boy, what have I gotten myself into?
#tma#tma fic#the magnus archives#magnus pod#the magnus archives fic#magnus pod fic#mike crew#jonathan sims#oliver banks#the archivist#tma spoilers#martin blackwood#sasha james#jmart#jonmartin#teaholding#monster!jon#monster!martin#magnus monsterverse
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A Perfect Life
A Homestuck fanfic about my GamTav old men AU. A lot of fluff!! Enjoy ^-^
—
It feels like forever ago.
But it has just been a year. A year since you walked in that hall in a white dress, flower bouquet in hands, petals being gently thrown over you and your lover standing there, wearing a nice tie and a purple ribbon wrapped nicely on his badass left bull horn, waiting for you. It was a simple wedding, only your friends were invited, yet that was a meaningful moment, one of the best days of your entire life.
The presents were wonderful. Despite many of your so called "friends" still being in odd terms with you, they still agreed to come to this special day, even if most of them came for Tavros only. Aradia gave you a brown mug with your purple sign on it. The inside of the mug had a small text in purple saying "happy wedding 0u0". Tavros seemed to get a similar mug, his being purple with his bronze sign stamped on it. Aradia is so sweet, you’re glad to be on good terms with her. She makes your Tavros happy. She’s almost like a human sister to him.
And just like Arasis, Fefsis is also good with you. In fact, you dare to say that her present was the best of all. She all up and used her miraculous life powers and extended your Tavbro’s lifespan to equal yours, so you don’t ever have to worry about outliving your love. You were in tears, and tackled her in a tight hug, thanking her all the way for that glorious, impeccable gift.
You were responsible for baking the wedding cake, and you are really happy to see how much people liked it. You very rarely eat sopor now, you finally got over it after many years and much support from Tavros. Since Subjuggulator profession is gone now, there’s no need for sopor slime in this planet, but many trolls — including you and your bronze husband — stick to it, as they’re used to it.
When you and your newlywed husband got home that night, you both fell on the couch and cuddled until you fell asleep, content with the life you’re living.
—
You were shaken out of your thoughts by a slight tug at your mess of a hair. You zoned out in the bath, again, remembering how it’s been a year since you and your husband got married. Speaking of him, he’s taking a bath with you, washing your hair that has been growing quite a lot lately, and despite how messy it is, you both like it. So you keep it, even if it’s awful to take care of it.
Tavros tried to be as gentle as possible. The feel of his big, rough but sweet hands scraping gently against your scalp feels very good, you love when he takes care of you. You gladly return the favor, by cooking his faves for him, and massaging him whenever he has back pains, or if he’s stressed you curl up with him on the couch and puts Pupa Pan for him to watch.
“You okay over there?” He asked, regarding the amount of knots in your curls. He has grown so comfortable around you, he rarely ever stutters with you nearby anymore. You feel so happy for him.
“Yeah man, ’m good.” You waved him off and allowed him to resume washing your hair. When he finishes, you turn around to hug him and rest your chin atop his head, your growing goat beard slightly tickling the shaved area of his scalp. He gladly returns his gesture, wrapping his strong, muscular arms around your skinny, but not weak body. You let out a sigh of contention. You enjoyed peaceful moments like this, just the two of you enjoying the silence and each other’s company.
He lightly flutters his wings — pupated wings, a true miracle in your honest opinion — and playfully splashed you with water. Despite you two being grown up adults, your goofyness and sillyness from childhood are still there. You laugh and splash him a bit too, engaging in a small war of who can splash the other more.
You left the bathtub laughing and giving each other light kisses on the face. You put on a royal purple robe while Tavros wrapped himself in a black towel with polkadots, and went to your room.
You headed to the kitchen to make dinner while he chose a book to read — you love it when he reads it out loud for you. While cooking, you caught yourself thinking about something that has been on your mind for a while now. Despite loving this simple life you have, just the two of you, it’s still lonely for part of the day. Tavros works, while you stay at home to do the domestic chores.
Your Tavros got a job as what humans call a veterinary, meaning that he takes care of sick lusii and beasts. He just doesn’t like seeing the poor creatures suffering and wants to do anything to help them. He is such a sweetheart, one of the many reasons you fell red for him.
He uses his communion abilities to find out exactly what the problem is, and by informing the other vets about it, the job gets much easier by knowing exactly what to do.
He also takes some time to work out. Sure, when he was in a wheelchair he got some upper body strength, and those horns, man, those things must be so heavy. Not any troll could handle that weight, but your Tavbro has a strong neck and body. After you — quite easily — convinced Equius to build him a pair of robot legs, he began weight lifting. You just love to see him lifting up those things, and you know he would never use that strength for any malice.
Wait, what were you thinking about again? Motherfuck, you zoned out again. Got distracted by your miraculous husband. You were thinking about... Hmm– Oh yeah! About how you wanted to talk to him about something important.
You finished cooking and put them on the table, along with the silverware. Your husband came from the room wearing freshly clean pajamas, stretching his gorgeous body and giving his miraculous wings a flutter. He smiled when he noticed you and you grinned widely back, both of you showing your fangs.
“I can’t really smell much, from our block but, uh, what’s for dinner?” Tavros asked.
“Glad you asked bro, I was all up in the mood to try something motherfucking new, so I did some really nice human dishes, just not anything containing those motherfuckers originating from beasts, I know how you all up and dislike that shit.” You replied. You weren’t wrong, Tavbro is a vegetarian, meaning that he doesn’t eat meat. He cares about those creatures so much.
He sat down and you followed along. You two ate in a peaceful silence, enjoying the moment and the company of one another. After you two finished, you decided to leave the dishes for later. Tavros picked up the book he chose to read and laid down on the couch and patted his stomach, inviting you to lay there. You happily did so, being extremely careful of your horns which are becoming very tall — just like the rest of you. Soon enough you wouldn’t be able to lay your head on his belly anymore, the only way you’d be able to lay on him was resting your chin on his body, horns far from hitting his handsome and perfect face.
His wings were sprawled out nicely, and even though they were sensitive to the touch, your Tavbro always lets you touch it. He opened the book, but before he could begin reading it, you cleared your throat, catching his attention.
“Um, is something wrong, Gamzee?”
“Nah motherfucker, just... wanted to talk about something that has been taking alota place in my fuckin’ thinkpan for some time now.”
“Oh? What is it, then?” He started petting your head, effectively easing your tension — which you didn’t even notice to begin with.
“Well, y’know.. we’ve been all up and together alone for so motherfucking long now, and, well, it gets even lonelier when my hun isn’t around and shit, you know what I’m saying?
I mean, I ain’t saying I don’t enjoy our time alone, of course I motherfuckin’ do! But, um,” You took a deep breath. “I guess what I’m tryin to all up and say is that, I wanna adopt some motherfucking grubs, s’all.”
Tavros’ bronze eyes widened, a light blush covering his cute cheeks. But then, he laughed. Not in a mean way, absolutely never, but that laugh that was always music to your ears. “Gamzee, are you suggesting that, we should become lusii? Or, what the humans would call, uh, parents?”
You nod, a purple tint filling your cheeks. You stopped wearing face paint a long time ago, and also because Tav loves seeing your face.
“Oh Gamzee, you should’ve told me sooner, I would love to, form a family with you!” He left the book somewhere you couldn’t see and wrapped those beautiful arms of his around your chest, your face becoming more purple. But you can’t deny the true happiness you felt.
“Really? My Tavvy wants to raise some miracles with this motherfucker?” You were grinning really wide, your purple irises so full of joy and excitement. Tavros chuckled a bit more and tightened his grip just a bit.
“Of course I do, you silly. But uhm, first, we have to separate a room for them, and buy the necessary supplies.” The bronzeblood pointed out. You tried to nod, but it was a bit difficult to, so you just hummed in agreement. You kissed your husband’s arms and hands, and began feeling drowsy in his warm embrace.
“I love you, Tav.”
“I love you too, Gamzee.” He gently resumed petting your head until you drifted off to the land of miracles and dreams.
Yeah, you do like the way things are going now.
—
You are staring at the window of your comically oversized car, watching the city go by aa your husband Tavhun drives you to the orphanage. A few days ago you had filled the profile of your desired child, and now you just got an email saying that they have found a compatible match. They said the child has a younger sibling, but that was okay with you.
“We’re here, Gamz.” Tavros told you. You shake your head a bit while he parks the car. After exiting the vehicle and entering the building, you looked for the guy who attended you last time, and they said she was waiting for you on a certain room. You got the directions and followed along.
When you found it, you were faced with a violetblood troll — who seemed to be around 14 years old — playing with a human girl, who you assumed must be their younger sister, probably around the age of 10.
They looked at you with wide eyes, and you couldn’t help but grin widely of happiness, while your husband waved at them.
The woman introduced you to the children and told you that you had to come and visit them a few days to have a walk or engage in conversations, so you get to know them better and they get to know you. After getting closer, and if the relationship goes well, you will be allowed to adopt the kids.
Yeah, you think that will work.
—
3 years. 3 years have passed.
3 years since you have met the girls, got to know them, got close to them...
Was allowed to take them home.
You remember when you couldn’t contain your happiness. Tavros had to hold you while you cried purple tears of joy, thanking every Messiah out there for being able to adopt these children, being able to form a family with your lovely Tavbro.
You’re sitting in the couch with your husktop in your lap. You let out a deep breath and close it. You just uploaded a new recipe to your blog — which is quite popular, you must say. You see a lot of people making your recipes and you just feel so proud of yourself.
Your daughter Docmut — the violetblood troll — is sitting beside you, reading Tavros’ favorite book, Pupa Pan. Her human sister, Ella, is on the other side of the couch on her palmhusk (or phone, as humans call it) scrolling through social media. You feel Docmut tugging at your sleeve.
“Dad, I want to eat a cupcake.” she asks you. She loves your sweets, and you’re more than happy to make some for her. But that’ll ruin her appetite for dinner.
“Not now girl, y’know daddy is all up and eager to make some motherfucking baked good for my little girl, but it’s almost time for dinner and you will lose yer hunger an’ shit.” You explained to her. She pouted a bit.
“I’m not that little anymore, dad. I’m 17!”
“Ya will always be dad’s little girl.” you proceeded to wrap her in your arms in a big hug. She struggled but eventually gave in with a sigh. Ella chuckled a bit.
You heard the door opening and you all looked at it, seeing Tavros returning home from work. “I’m home!”
“Dad!” The girls shouted simultaneously, your husband coming to the couch and allowing them to hug him. You let go of Docmut and got up too, walking to your lover and crouched a bit to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“Welcome home, Tav.” Your daughters went to sit on the couch again and you kissed him on the lips, which he gladly kissed back. You pulled back your lips and instead pulled an arm around his shoulders, still crouching. Man, sometimes it sucks to be tall. “How was work, motherfucker?”
“Ah, it was alright. Not much, things happened today, uh, just the usual.” He replied.
“Miracles.” You kissed his cheek.
“So dad, what’s for dinner?” Ella asked, and you looked at her.
“Man, I’m all up and tired today, not feeling up for cooking those motherfucking goods my miracles enjoy so much, y’know?” You pulled your arm back and stretched, and also slightly popped your back.
“So, do you want takeout?” Tavvy asked, also stretching and giving those miraculous wings of his a flutter.
“Sounds good to this motherfucking. What about my girls?” They nodded, agreeing with ordering food from tonight.
Tavbro went to take a shower, while you pulled up your palmhusk and ordered pizza. You went to join him while Docmut and Ella organized the table. When it arrived, you were all dressed in your pajamas and had a nice family dinner together. Your daughters talked about their hyperfixations which you were happy to listen to, even if you didn’t understand anything. You just love seeing them so passionate about something, it reminds you of when you and your honey were around their age, how he talked about his Fiduspawns — which he still enjoys a lot — and you didn’t understand anything, but loved hearing his voice.
After eating, you all washed the dishes together and then it was time for the girls to sleep, they shared a room, and even though Docmut was a troll, she preferred sleeping in a bed instead of a recuperacoon. You think she got used to beds back in the orphanage, or maybe thats just a seadweller thing. Thinking better, you don’t think you have ever seen a violet or fuchsiablood sleeping in a recuperacoon.
Anyways, you turned off the lights and they got comfortable. “Goodnight honeys, your daddys loves you.” And then you closed the door.
Since it was a friday night, you and your husband decided to have some alone time before going to sleep. He laid on the couch and looked for a movie watch, you carefully laid on top of him, resting your chin on his buff, hairy chest. He smiled and wrapped an arm around your skinny, yet slightly muscular body. You weren’t even paying attention to the movie he put, you were more interested in staring at your beautiful Tavros. His beautiful brown eyes, his grown mohawk (can it still be considered one?), his slight moustache and beard and his gorgeous muscular body.
“I love you.” You muttered, almost unheard by him.
“I love you too.” He replied, his voice drowsy from tiredness. Not much later, he was asleep, snoring lightly. You turned off the TV and carried him to your room. Despite him being much bigger than you, you could still carry him easily. That was one of the good things about being a highblood, your natural super strength.
You carefully laid him on your shared recuperacoon and immediately joined him, clinging to his body and being extremely careful of your horns, joining him on the land of sleep not much time later.
It was another peaceful day on the Nitram–Makara household, and you couldn’t be more happy for the life you have now.
—
Thank you for reading! Be sure to check my designs and headcanons for older Gamzee and Tavros. The kids designs were made by my friend @transmascjade be sure to check their account! ^-^
Also I've did some research regarding adoption of children, so apologies if i got anything wrong ^^"
#homestuck#homestuc4#gamzee makara#tavros nitram#gamtav#mareys dump#except its a fic not art#but its still made by me anyways#homestuck fanfic
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CONTENT WARNING: everyone is ruined. Stereotypes everywhere. this shit is so bad it turns a whopping 360 it turns good
cherry-picking chapters are encouraged yes
arranged for myself the funniest excerpts from the funniest chapters i deemed so
if someone else somehow clicks to my horrible tastes as well. then uh. hell yeah.
Chapter 1:
“Zuko? What are you doing?” he asked upon seeing the prince loading up a dinky little ship that looked totally out of place beside the naval fleet.
“I’m going to capture the avatar and restore my Xbox privileges,” Zuko decreed. Shortly thereafter, the plank lifted, and Ozai could only stare in disbelief as the ship pulled away from the dock.
“Goodbye, Father!” Zuko shouted, waving at him from the deck of the ship as he grew smaller and smaller — further away with every passing second.
Chapter 38:
“THEIR,” Ozai screamed.
“WHERE?”
“AZULA’S PRONOUNS…” Ozai passed out on the bathroom floor.
“My God, his whole personality was in that beard,” Steve realized. “His whole ideology. The core of who he is…” He panicked, and it dawned on him what he had to do. “I’ve got to keep him drugged until it grows back.”
Chapter 45:
The door burst open, and Jet walked in, his mouth wheat rippling menacingly in the breeze. Zuko wondered about that mouth wheat whenever they encountered each other. Did he put the same wheat in his mouth every day? Wouldn’t it get soggy after a while? If not, then where was he finding wheat in Ba Sing Se? Was he at least washing it before he put it in his mouth?
“I’m telling you, these people are firebenders!” he cried for the sixteenth time since Zuko and Iroh had started working in the tea shop. The wheat bobbed in his mouth. Zuko had never seen Jet without his wheat. Why did he always have it? Was it like a pacifier? Did he just like the taste? Did he take it out to eat? Did he eat in the first place? Was Jet even human?
Chapter 49: Short Feng
The pair of Dai Li agents thrust Long Feng forward, and he fell on his face at Azula’s feet. She reached down and placed a hand on his forehead like she was about to Amon away his bending (seriously, did they just never explain how Amon could do that?)
Instead, a transformation took place. A blinding light shooting out from his body, Long Feng shrank and compressed like he’d been put in a trash compactor where he belonged. When the light faded, he was no longer Long Feng.
Chapter 51:
Suddenly, Ozai heelied into the war room, wearing shutter shades, a mesh crop top that said “my eyes are up here (only Steve is allowed to look at my abs),” and booty shorts that said “heelies to escape my feelies” on the ass.
“I’m so tired of formal wear,” he remarked, climbing onto the throne. Unused to his new heelies, he nearly tripped going up the stairs.
“Dad… why…” Azula groaned, covering her face with her hands. She couldn’t look. Maybe one day, she would be a powerful enough firebender to burst into flame on the spot just so she wouldn’t have to deal with this.
Chapter 3:
“Fire Lord Ozai is no more! From this day forward, I shall be known as… Fucking Fire Lord Ozai!” he announced, and the crowd went bonkers.
“Sweet, does that mean that I’m the Fucking Princess?” Azula piped up again.
“No, dumbass. I just told you that you get to be the regular fire lord,” he barked.
Chapter 4:
Without any warning, somebody kicked through the door like the beginning of the timeless masterpiece that is the first Shrek movie.
“Father, I have captured the avatar!” Zuko announced. “Where’s my Xbox?” He turned to the bald little kid lingering behind him. “Oh, yeah, Aang, meet my dad, and Dad, this is Aang. Where’s my Xbox?” he repeated obnoxiously.
“Nice to meet you, Mister Fire Lord,” Aang said pleasantly.
Chapter 14:
Ozai clambered to his feet, and held the noodle picture up against the wall, across from the pile of hay. “I think I’ll put it right here. How does that look?”
“I like it. I’ll come visit again, and I’ll bring real food next time. And I won’t make fun of you, either,” Aang promised. “See ya!”
“Thanks, kid.” Ozai cracked a weary smile for perhaps the first time since his imprisonment. Perhaps the noodle fanart would ward off the ghost.
Chapter 22:
“Okay, Silent But Deadly, do your thing,” Ozai commanded.
Silent But Deadly inhaled deeply, his third eye glowing. A sudden explosion tore the room into fragments, the deafening boom setting off car alarms and making dogs bark several dimensions over. Azulon’s guts sprayed everywhere. It was metal as fuck.
“What the hell?” Ozai screamed to make himself heard above the ringing in everyone’s ears. “That wasn’t silent!”
Chapter 24:
“I know you’re looking to find out what’s in the attic,” she said. “Your mother doesn’t want me to tell you this, but it’s her stash. It’s no normal pot, though. It’s a strain she cultivated herself called Waxy Meatball Frozen Zipper. She doesn’t want you two smoking any because it’s extremely rare and hard to grow, not to mention that you have to be a level 57 anarchist to use it to teleport like she does.”
“Use it to teleport?” Azula echoed. “That’s what all this was? So she wasn’t a hallucination all those other times?”
“She was real, all right.” June disappeared back into the rafters. “Ask her for some once you’ve thrown bricks at a few more banks. See you guys at dinner.”
Chapter 23 (cw politics(?)):
Iroh t-posed in the middle of the battlefield, levitating menacingly. Time slowed around him. He really hated to invoke his god-powers, but things were getting ridiculous. “Why can’t I just run my fuckin’ tea shop in peace?” he sighed quietly, then with a roar, he announced, “I DECLARE THE FIRE NATION TO BE A CAPITALIST-COMMUNIST ANARCHO-FASCIST STATE. AND I WILL BE LEADER.”
The fighting stopped. “Dude, all right, sounds good to me.” Zuko tossed aside the fifteen guns he’d brought out of his gun room.
Chapter 52:
Ozai was considering hopping inside to get a milkshake, but just then, the avatar rolled up in a slick black Mercedes. Aang flicked off his sunglasses, tore off his shirt, and slammed the car door shut. “Do you want to fucking go, old man?” he challenged him. “Do you want to fucking go inside and discuss this over a lovely meal instead of resorting to violence?”
Ozai wished that he, too, could slam his car door in a display of masculine fury, but the minivan door glided shut calmly. Ozai tore off his shirt, circling the avatar. “I will fuck you up!” he threatened. With all that fire burning, it was hot out, and he really wanted that milkshake. “Let’s settle this like men! Over a menu!”
Chapter 1:
“Wait! It was just a joke! I’ll give you your Xbox back! Please! Come home, son!” he yelled from the shore. “Please…”
A single tear slid down his cheek. If only he hadn’t been so cruel.
#atla#fic#crack#crackfic#comedy#ao3#ozai#zuko#azula#ursa#aang#iroh#long feng#azulon#pronouns#heelies#xbox#fic recommendations#(?)#sparky sparky boom man#LONG POST
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First Meeting
takes place Briars first year of high school lol
Highschool, A terrible place full of sorrows and stress. I moved to the G4 district not too long ago and have gained a decent amount of popularity since I have, I’ve even had a few girls ask me on dates. Of course I turned them down. I barely knew any of them, I have better things to do anyway. Walking through the halls I was approached by yet another girl, I groaned in my head, mentally preparing for turning down another confession but I'm caught off guard when it never comes. The girl was the president of the photography club and needed student volunteers to be models for a project they were working on. Not too long before that I was asking a teacher to work alone on a project and was reminded to put myself out there and befriend some people. Reluctantly, I agreed to model for the photography club. It wouldn't be my first time modelling afterall, they should feel lucky that I didn’t just turn the other way when I was asked. The girl who’s name I do not remember tells me to join them in the club room at the end of the day. That was not far from now as it was last period. I nod in understanding and resume walking to my next class, not giving her enough time to say anything more.
Biology, My favourite subject. I’ve always been fascinated with how the human body works. I knew every intricate system and how everything behaved by memory, a morbid little child reading books full of gore and viscera. Naturally I was passing the class with flying colours, I was the teacher's golden child. This class was nothing special, just a period where students could study for an upcoming test next week. I didn't need to study but I did anyway, drawing an intricate diagram of the human skeletal system with labels and everything, patiently waiting for the bell to ring so I could get this photography club activity done and over with. Eventually it does ring and I silently grab my bag from my locker and walk up to the photography club room. I enter the room, great, I'm the first one there. I awkwardly place myself at a desk and wait for the few members the club had to actually show up. No less than five minutes later the first student shows up, some kid named Travis or something dumb like that, he seems confused as to why im here so I don’t think he was filled in on the project. He asked me a question but I didn't answer because the club president entered the room and filled him in. She seemed excited to see that I actually showed up and didn't just bail on her. I sat silently for fifteen minutes until all of the members arrived except one. The club president doesn't wait for that last student, assuming that they aren't coming in today she begins explaining that me and five other volunteers would be assigned to two club members and have to model for them. Mid sentence the door slams open the culprit screaming
“I'm here! I'm here!” in a panic. The president sighs and welcomes him, ushering him to sit down and explaining the project again just for good measure before assigning the students to volunteers. Turns out I was only assigned to one person as there were an odd number of club members, someone named Ajax. I look around to find who responded to the name and, oh no it’s the late kid, and he’s staring at me with what looks like awe in his eyes. I force myself to walk up to him as he’s just sitting there and looking at me rather than making a move to talk to me for this project.
“Hello?” I greet him, snapping him out of his daze with my accent. He clearly didn’t expect me to have a german accent due to his eyes widening in surprise before awkwardly sputtering a greeting. I silently sit down next to him, he has short scruffy black hair and what looks like a patchy beard he's trying to grow out.
“I like your hair, I've always wanted to grow mine out but my parents won't let me.” Ajax breaks the silence. I fiddled with my hair, I guess it was getting quite long. It wasn't the first time someone pointed out how long it was but this time it felt different somehow.
“Thanks.” I answer in monotone, he could tell how uninterested I was about being here “why wont your parents let you grow it out?”
“They say it'll make me look to feminine, but I don't believe them. Someone can look like a man and still have long hair.” I turn my head to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t worry I don’t think you look like a girl, though I swear I’ve seen a picture of you in a girls magazine before. Aren't you an actual model?” Ajax answers my question before I can even ask it and I feel my face heat up as he mentions that small gig I had for a magazine a few weeks ago. He notices my fluster and says that he's honoured to work with an actual model, though the blush doesn’t dissipate so he switches the topic to how he wants to compose the photos for the project. We had a long conversation about photography. He seems very passionate about it and he's excited to photograph me. I tell him how I want to be portrayed in the photos and elements I do and don't want in them before exchanging numbers and parting our separate ways once the club meeting is over. I don't think I mind participating in this project anymore.
#might make a second version with Ajax pov instead#i think the comparisson would b neat#vtsom#vincent the secret of myers#writing#Briar Sawyer#Ajax Morningstar#writing prompt#vtsom oc
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The Curator-Alpha!Bucky Barnes
Bucky Barnes Alpha/Omega Oneshot
As an Omega people always expected you to be something you weren't. They expected flirty and sweet, cheerful and bubbly as most Omegas are, but that just wasn't you. You knew it disappointed your mother, she had all Alpha boys until you, her only girl and only child not born an Alpha. She dressed you up all your life, never letting you express yourself in the least, pink dresses and heels, fruity perfumes that 'enhanced Omega scents' and 'pretty' jewelry, she made you everything you hated and it made you hate her. You fought against everything she wanted and it made her hate you. When you left high school and decided not to travel in search of your Alpha as so many did but instead get a job and an apartment in the city she was livid and she told you not to come back until you were ready to cooperate or you found your Alpha and he fixed your behavior.
You found a roommate who became your best friend, Natasha, and got a job as an art curator. Your boss was quite a dick, making you do all the work and taking all the credit but the pay was good, at least for your half of the job, and you were able to get your paintings on display every now and again.
It's not that you didn't want an Alpha, but you didn't want to be controlled anymore, you wanted someone to love you, not own you and you couldn't see any modern Alpha doing that. So when the day came that you smelled your Alpha for the first time you did what no Omega has ever done in the history of human kind, you ran.
You were at the opening of a new art gallery, having hired an assistant for the event to take care of sales of paintings so you could handle everything else, meeting clients and making sure artists were happy was your main goal until you smelled it. It was a rush of firewood, pine trees and gunpowder. It was delicious and you turned, running into the kitchen quickly.
You used the other exit, continuing to work while trying to avoid the smell and being so busy walking around that you didn't notice until the party was almost over as you passed it that someone had bought your painting.
"Kelly! Someone bought my painting?" The girl grinned.
"Yes, he was very taken with it, and so unbelievably hot! He asked if you were here actually, he wanted to meet you." You smelled it again when you got close to the painting and instantly knowing your Alpha had smelled you on it. "There he is. Mr. Barnes!" She waved someone over and you looked up to see a man with just shy of shoulder length brown hair, a dark beard and bright blue eyes, even if he wasn't your Alpha this man would have caught your attention. "This is Y/n, you bought her painting." He wasn't listening to a thing Kelly said as he stared at you, 2 men walking behind him as if body guards.
"Hello Y/n. I'm James, I've been looking for you all night." I shook myself out of my daze as he took my hand, kissing my knuckle and turned my hand, smelling the scent gland at my wrist. His eyes rolled back into his head as he did, his body relaxing visibly and a smile making its way to his face.
"Yes well, tons to do when it's your party, actually I should be going." I tried to walk away but he grabbed my upper arm, quite gently but enough to let me know he wanted me to stay.
"Please? Don't go? I've been looking all night-actually I've been searching for years. Let me get you a drink?" I found myself nodding before I could stop and he tucked my arm into his delicately. He led me over to the bar, gesturing for his men to stay behind. "Tell me why you're running from me gorgeous." I looked up from my drink, stunned and just as I was about to lie he held up his hand. "Don't lie, please? Our bond is still growing but I learned to spot a lie in anyone quite a long time ago, I just ask for the truth Y/n, please?"
I hesitated but took a deep breath, deciding to go with the truth. "I spent my entire life being told what an Omega should be, how I should act and dress and talk and it wasn't me, I felt like I was being suffocated in so much shit that everyone else wanted me to be and I don't want an Alpha because I don't want it to happen all over again." He didn't interrupt me, didn't laugh or even smile, he just listened which was strange for me from an Alpha.
"I'm sorry that's how you grew up, it does sound uncomfortable. I don't want to control you however. I want my Omega to be just who she is, because who she is should be perfect for me, right?" I nodded, unsure of what else to do, completely shocked by this. "The only time I need you to act a certain way is when I'm in a business meeting and that, for the most part, won't concern you one bit. I never want you to be anything but happy with me, I also need to know that my Omega wants me to be myself as well-"
"Of course I do. It's not exactly like an Alpha needs to hide though, shouldn't you be that way all the time?" He shook his head.
"I run several companies, who I am to customers and employees and business partners, that's work me, I...I want to come home to someone I can just exist with and be happy." In that moment I was hit with a rush of longing and loneliness that caused me to whine audibly, putting down my glass and moving to hug my Alpha. He wrapped his arms around me as I did, burying his nose into my neck and breathing me in deeply having not an ounce of shame in it, so I did as well.
"I'm sorry you feel like that." I mumbled before feeling him kiss the side of my head.
"I'm sorry you do too my sweet girl. You're Alpha is going to take care of you, I promise. Please let me?" I whined again, nodding into his neck, content to stay in this position for the rest of my life.
"Y/n!" I heard my boss' voice scream and I groaned, tightening my hold on James. "Y/n! There you are! There are buyers upstairs-"
"Kelly is taking care of that tonight, remember? I'm doing everything else."
"Well it certainly looks like you've found something to do but may I remind you that you're on the clock." I was about to snap back at the man, suddenly pissed off at being treated like this to a level I never had before. That was when I realized it wasn't my emotions.
"If I ever hear you talk to her like that again I will be sure that you lose much more than your job." James snarled at him, his scent shifting and showing how angry he is, a scent that made me weak at the knees.
"Mr.Barnes! I'm so terribly sorry, I didn't recognize you-"
"So you treat all Omegas like that?"
"N-No! I mean, I-"
"So just my Omega?" The Beta who likes to think himself an Alpha was cowering like an Omega, and I was loving it.
"No! Of course not! I didn't know she was your Omega, she's not mated-she wasn't! I just need her to do her job-"
"She's been doing her job, so much so that she hasn't had 10 seconds to stop moving and take a breath to even meet me, do you think that's a good working environment? 'Cause I don't, you can go help that customer purchase something, can't you? Or do you not know how to do that?"
"Of course I do!" He snapped, not being able to resist being who he is, which is a bully. James didn't say anything else, pulling me closer to his side and just staring at the man who seemed to realize what he had done. "I apologize Mr. Barnes, I didn't mean-"
"My Omega is done for the night. From what I understand from everyone else that works here she runs this entire place, doing your job and hers and gets paid half the money. She is done here and I will be speaking to your bosses...and their bosses. Come my love, let's get you something to eat, you're starving." My mind questioned for a moment how he could tell before having a dumb moment and realizing he could feel it as he took my hand and pulled me away from my boss to the platters.
"Did you just quit my job for me? That's exactly the kind of behavior I meant when I-"
"I’m sorry." He cut me off, taking my face into his hands. "I know that that wasn't a great start but I refuse to let my Omega be abused and belittled. I have a new job for you, one that if everyone here is right about what you do, will be perfect for you and will pay you accordingly. I need a new curator at my gallery in the city, you'll have your own office, what that asshole was supposed to do will be done by a coworker and you'll just be doing what you're supposed to do, plus, your boss is a great guy, doesn't yell at his staff, pays appropriately, offers sick leave when needed for all designations, and I'm told he's pretty easy on the eyes." He blinked at me rapidly and I couldn't help my giggle, leaning my head onto his shoulder.
"You're sweet but I don't just want to be offered a job because I'm your Omega-"
"I understand, and you're not. I'm here tonight to meet the curator of this gallery and offer her a job, I've heard wonderful things about her and not so wonderful things about how she's treated, figured I could poach her easily you see...even easier still, it turns out she's my Omega. See how that works out?" He pulled out his phone and showed me his schedule that said at the bottom- 6pm: Meet with curator of Avengers gallery. "I've been looking for 2 people all night and only realized 5 minutes before I found you that they were the same person. Funny how things work out."
"It really is. What the hell, come here." I grabbed his jacket, pulling him down to me and pressing my lips to his hard, hearing him groan contently. "In that case, can we go get real food somewhere?"
"I would love to treat my Omega to dinner."
Bucky Barnes Masterlist
#buckybarnes#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x reader#marvel#the winter soldier#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x female oc#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky x y/n#buckyfic#buckybarnes fic#captain america#the avengers#bucky barnes x original female character#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x oc#marvel fandom#bucky x oc#bucky imagine#bucky fic#bucky barnes fic#bucky fluff#alpha omega#sebastian stan#sebastian stan imagine#james barnes#james buchanan barnes
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Kingdom of Heaven
Chapter Two
Friendship Over Women
Tiberias led the other horsemen across the desert and he found himself zoning off… again. He kept thinking of you. He frowned in wonder. Why was he thinking of the fiancee of his best friend and King?
He shouldn't be thinking about a married to be woman . But, he couldn't help it. Your face was so beautiful and he couldn't believe something like you existed. Even a non living beauty object was not as good as you. If you were beautiful for a human he would say that but even a doll didn't compare.
He glanced back to see the camel you were riding on was not causing you trouble. You looked miserable with your head hanging down. Poor you. A young girl. To marry a man and one of great power. You didn't know the language and you were illiterate.
The way of life he saw when he took you away from your sick father made him feel pity. Must have been difficult being desperately poor on the outskirts of your village in a cold tiny hut.
He asked around about your small family. Your mother died of tuberculosis and your father was rumored to be mentally ill.
Which was why you and your father were shunned.
"Master!" A soldier called.
Tiberias snapped his head back. There was a crowd of horsemen over the camel of yours!
"What happened!?"
"The lady fainted!"
Tiberias steered his horse towards your direction.
The caravan had to make camp as the physician. Tiberias brought with him a group just in case checked you.
How clever Tiberias was to expect the unexpected. He just assumed this would never happen.
He watched the doctor check your temperature and slip pills inside your mouth.
Tiberias took advantage to study your lovely face. Your sculpted cheekbones and effeminate and delicate face shape was ethereal. What an angel.
Your red plump lips were cracked and he remembered the pink of your cheeks were now blood red.
"She has an overdose of mercury in her blood. The heat made her growing illness worse. She has minor food poisoning from eating too much fish." The voice of the physician interrupted Tiberias.
"What must we do?"
"She needs penicillin and must stay at camp to cool off for a few days."
Tiberias nodded. He must send the King a message. His bride will be late to his Kingdom.
Meanwhile at the palace….
King Baldwin was discussing with Balian the new strategies of a counter attack against Saladin in case anything happens.
"We must be sure it will work. Otherwise, the smallest error will cause the death of thousands."
"Yes, my King."
A knock caused both men to look to see a messenger. He bowed and gave the King a scroll.
"That is all, Balian."
"Yes, my King."
After Balian left, The King read the scroll. It was from Tiberias! He felt excitement. He hoped it was related to you. He was eager to read it. But, his excitement died when he read how you fainted from the heat and was sick due to your poor diet.
The thought of you dying made his weak heart beat with grief. He would rather die himself than you. You poor dear. Swallowing a lump, he stood up from his desk and walked to his desk. He gently laid himself down on his bed. His breath began to slow and his head felt dizzy from anxiety.
"Healer." Baldwin rasped.
The guard outside his door called for the physicians and nurses in a loud voice as they ran to the King in aid.
As for you…
Your forehead felt as if it could be a frying pan. Yet, your body shivered. You felt confused.
You knew you were unhealthy due to the lack of quality food. But, never expected to be this pathetic.
You realized you were being watched…. Well, the men were always ogling at you. But, this was different. The grey hair man with the small beard and a scar on his eye. His emerald eyes were staring at you like a hawk.
Now, you were alone with your thoughts and relaxing in a cool white fabric tent. You remembered seeing the Grey haired man at first. He was so handsome. His tan skin and muscular form looked like that of a young man in his prime.
You wondered why he came instead of the King. But, you knew not his language. But, he spoke to your father kindly and he must have known your native tongue. Doesn't matter. You were another man's property.
You closed your eyes and let sleep claim you.
Tiberias took advantage of the inconvenience of the settled camp by doing physical exercise. Some of the other horsemen were also training or sleeping mostly.
He prayed your illness would not cause your death. It would be a shame a young girl to die and his best friend to miss the opportunity to love.
Love. He frowned. He tried to marry before. The suitors he found did not touch his heart. He knew he would not be happy with them. He gave up when he found out he was middle aged. He bitterly accepted to be an unmarried man. Lonely too.
He sighed. He looked at your tent once more. The six guards he assigned were standing tall. Tiberias wanted this to be over with. The trip. He felt guilt….
He was chosen by Baldwin along with Guy to be a witness.
He was a witness to couples before. He HATED being one. Tiberias considered it to be awkward and uncomfortable.
Now… he felt different. He felt excitement and longing. The image of you bare and ready to be deflowered. Tiberias would pretend it was him instead of King Baldwin.
Guilt touched Tiberias' heart. How could he feel that way to his best friend? A woman got in between them.
May God have mercy on him.
Sybilla gulped in nervousness as the Arab doctors hovered over the bed of her brother.
Baldwin allowed her to read the scroll sent by Tiberias. Her future sister in law might pass away. Her poor brother will not have a chance to find love again.
Baldwin felt stress and anxiety consume him from the bad news. His dream was this close to be true. He wished God was not teasing him out of cruelty.
Baldwin felt shame and guilt when he must explain to you that you will never bear children thanks to his disease.
And he might die within five years. The most.
Baldwin made arrangements. He divided his gold to assure you a luxurious life till you were one hundred.
He closed his eyes and found himself dreaming of you. The way your eyes looked at him with lust made his cheeks aflame with bashfulness.
You must have been holding your desires inside far too long. Baldwin wanted to spare you from your longing pain.
He wondered, how will you behave when you are to be observed by his brother in law and best friend?
Balian was not known to the King for years. The royal court did not agree. Also, Baldwin did not want his sister to feel jealous over you. Her lover watches another woman being unclothed.
Baldwin vowed to attend church when he is well to pray for your health. Maybe if he gives silver to charity. He will have his prayers answered. That way, you can sleep in his arms.
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lately i've been thinking non-stop about Brucie 😭 since you're in a monster mood i've been thinking about how he (as well as his two college town cousins 😳) would be like as werewolves?
hope you're feeling better btw!!! wish u all the best
Thank you for the well wishes!! Hope you’re doing alright too 💞💞💞
Brucie: somehow even more clingy and protective?? Maybe because of his sharpened senses, Brucie gets a lot more interested in your scent than before— and his own, making sure to rub his face, head, and beard on you to “mark” you with it whenever he can. He probably also starts marking the edge of the cabin with piss but probably not you… unless you ask him to I guess? Honestly he really is just like a giant puppy, or a giant dog who’s convinced they’re a lap dog. He’s definitely even more prone to laying atop you with his full weight because of this. I think he’d also become more emotionally expressive, like pleading with those puppy-eyes, growling at other people who get too close to you, or he may even have a tail that would thump whenever he sees you 🥺
Penny: not a fan of becoming a lycanthrope to be honest 😭. She spent so much time and energy into her transition and now she’s gonna grow hairy all over again?? Luckily the wolfish hair mostly goes away when the moon wanes, and she won’t really have to do laser again, but still!! The heightened senses, increased prey drive and blood lust are also pretty repugnant side-effects for her. She loves old monster movies and would absolutely still adore a monster Darling (even if they do come home covered in blood and gore from time to time and make her feel faint… in the non-sexy way 😭), but for the most part she’d prefer to be a human herself.
Wisteria: Wisteria typically likes being small and dainty, looking like someone in need of protecting, but fae can’t deny the rush and thrill they get from being able to turn into a much bigger, more powerful wolf (or wolfish humanoid). She’s stronger, faster, sharper— no more does fae have to deal with the fatigue and cold she used to feel so often as a human. Even after full moons when fae’s left exhausted and even maybe in pain, it feels so much sharper and easier to identify and rectify than the foggy, nebulous discomfort she lived with before. Everything feels so much more real than before, the boundaries between dreams, daydreams, and waking life sharpening too. Wisteria becomes less shy and more confident (maybe even to the point of some delusion), feeling as if, somehow, this was always meant to be— a final puzzle piece clicking in place that allows her to fulfill faer true potential.
#mail 📬#oc brucie#brucie babyyyy#oc penny#oc wisteria#my thoughts#yandere#yandere oc#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere cw#yandere werewolf
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