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baragonspleasurebarge · 2 years

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Jen's Boyfriend's Boyfriend

Four connected stories written by Ninja_Badger and posted on CYOC. I've copied the text here for my own ease of access, but if you are the author and wish me to take it down, contact me and I will do so.

Context: Jen has been cursed by Kyle to transform into the ideal partner of whoever she runs into next.

There was a knock on the door right in time. Jennifer tugged it open to be greeted by the clean-cut smiling face of her boyfriend. Kyle said she had no love in her life but here he was. It had taken Jen the better part of Junior year to land Nate, he always seemed a little reluctant, but as head cheerleader she had to have the captain of the football team. It was only natural. She chalked his reluctance up to the fact he came from a very conservative, religious family. She still hadn't talked him into sex beyond a little oral, but he loved her she could tell.

As always his blond hair was perfectly combed, his face clean and smooth, dimples in his cheeks from his smile. Normally he'd be wearing a polo, but since there was a game today he had on his jersey, though paired with a pair of chinos. He always dressed impeccably. He looked good, he was popular, and he didn't argue with what she wanted. So.. perfect. Sometimes she wished he'd unlace a little and…

The whole world seemed to give a lurch. Clothes melted away off of both Nate and herself, though Nate stood there seemingly unaware of the alteration. "Something wrong?" Jen opened her mouth to answer but couldn't seem to find her voice. Nate was changing right in front of her. It wasn't noticeable at first, his well coiffed hair got a little loose and shaggy. It still looked good on him, it just ruined his clean cut air, and he seemed to actually grow an inch or two as his face lost some of it's softness. He still had those boyish dimples but his jaw and cheek bones were more prominent. He looked less like a teenager, more like a man pushing into his early twenties. His jaw grew stubble, then into a full blond beard a little on the scruffy side.

When they first started fooling around, Jen convinced him to start shaving his body hair, but that was growing back in, too. Curly dark blond pubes around his 6" flaccid cock, and the strip up his stomach and little bit in the center of his chest that had been stubble moments ago was now growing out, and not just getting longer. It was covering more of his chest and stomach. Covering his pectorals, which also seemed, well, bigger.

He actually seemed to be growing bigger all over, from the still lean musculature of a high school football player to the more impressive bulk of a college athlete. His arms with thickening with muscle, veins moving to the surface as his chest popped out, and his abs carved into a nice six pack. Other than the hair, Jen would have been quite pleased with these changes. Though he seemed to keep going.

Jen couldn't put her finger on it, but he was getting older, going from his early twenties to his mid twenties. He softened a little. He didn't lose any of his bulk, in fact, he seemed to get even larger. He looked like a weightlifter, though he started losing some of his definition, such as his stomach smoothing out. He wasn't fat, he just wasn't concerned with being ripped, or so it seemed. "Jen?" His voice was even a bit deeper. It was still Nate, but a possible future Nate, probably around 26 or 27,

Why had he changed? The curse was to transform her.. and her world? Was there something.. He was beautiful. He was the perfect man for her.

Jen felt that thought like a kick to the head. "Yeah, sorry, forgot something upstairs.." She suddenly felt uncomfortable, like her body didn't fit quite right. He went through his change unknowingly, but it seemed her being aware was going to bring differences. She headed up the stairs in a bit of a panic. Her legs didn't seem to be working right, like they were too long. She ran into her bedroom and shut the door.

She needed to think. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and her eyes went wide. She must have been changing while Nate was as she didn't quite recognize the person in the mirror. Her hair was short and auburn, just that little hint of red in it, cut in a undercut style some of the jocks at school favored. Her face was.. well she hated to say it but she looked like her brother. The feminine softness had left, leaving his face a bit heavier, with thicker jaw and brows and a more prominent nose.

Her body was taller, and getting taller as she stared. No wonder her legs felt off. Her hands a feet were getting bigger, too. She had enough boyfriends to know she was probably sporting size 12 feet. Her hips were off as well, less curvy, and more narrow than her shoulders which looked particularly broad. She was… no…

Reaching between her legs, she was greeted by unbroken skin where her vagina should have been, and a nub of growth right at the front of her crotch above a wrinkly bit of extra skin. Though it was growing fast, growing even as her breasts were shrinking away. The nub pushed out, growing longer and thicker by the second, it had a weird look to Jen though, and as she gave it a little tug she realized it had a foreskin. She had never been with an uncut guy before, but she knew what it was when she saw it. Her breasts seemed to stop shrinking at one point and instead flattened out into a pair of pectorals. Her nipples were still a little on the large side, but nothing too out of the ordinary.. for a guy.

She was becoming a guy. Her brain wanted to scream, but her body wouldn't follow suit. Something about this felt so right, so perfect. Auburn pubes sprouted out around her cock as it slowed it's growth at just over six inches flaccid. She felt an uncomfortable pressure for a moment in her crotch as both her balls dropped into the waiting scrotum, which felt amazing once done. Peach fuzz grew into dark hair on her arms and legs, quite a bit of it, too,and thick bushes formed in her armpits. Even her jaw was darkening with a bit of a shadow as her pubes started growing in a line up her stomach.

Staring back at her from the mirror was a young man she wouldn't have recognized at all, but wouldn't have been out of place in the senior class. Leanly muscled with his red-tinted auburn hair. He was kind of on the cute side, looking like he might belong on the track team, or maybe the swim team if he shaved.

The changes weren't done with him yet though, much as happened to Nate, he was starting to age. Lean muscles gained some bulk, but not to the same degree as Nate. John was always going to be on the lean side, and actually stood a little taller than Nate. He could put on muscle, but he was built for running and swimming, not lifting and tossing heavy weights like his boyfriend.

His face lost more of it's youthfulness as he let his beard grow in. He kept it neatly trimmed, a little more careful in grooming for himself, even if he liked his shaggy muscle bear of a boyfriend's no-cares look. Hair grew out along his chest and stomach, trimmed a little on the shorter side so as not to hide the definition he worked on. Nate might be fine with a flat stomach, and John had to admit it was more comfortable for laying his head on, but he wanted that nice cut look. Nate loved his men hairy though, so John only trimmed, he'd never dream of shaving it completely. He also loved the feeling of his boyfriend's hands running through it, or of two hairy chests rubbing together. His dick gave a little jump at the thought. Nate was also the hairier of the two, so why compete. His aging slowed and stopped, leaving him the same 27 years old as Nate.

There was a thought drifting through John's mind now. He remembered being Jen, knew he was till Jen in a way. But John's mind and memories were growing stronger.

Why had Nate changed though? The curse was… Kyle had said her world could change to, and Nate was certainly included in that. Nate and John had met when Nate and Jen did, at least in the way the memories were coming. But they kept their relationship a secret. All the way through college, too. Nate's family, ultra-conservative and religious would never have accepted him as gay, but he needed their help to get through school. So they kept it secret, pretended to just be best friends. So the best situation for their love to exist was for Nate to be independent and on his own from his family. It didn't really change Nate, just made him older in the way he would have been in this reality, it turned the years forward.

He remembered Nate finally coming out to his family. Some of his extended family accepted him, younger cousins, one aunt and uncle, a sibling. The rest cut off contact. He knew that was going to happen, but he had to tell them. He had to to them because… a wedding band formed on John's left hand, a twin he knew to one Nate was wearing.

Clothes reformed on John, a black tank and a pair of blue basketball shorts, black sneakers appearing on his feet with low cut athletic socks. The room had changed, too. It wasn't Jen's old bedroom, but a master bedroom with a king sized bed he shared with Nate. There were pictures of them on the wall, a few from their Honeymoon in Mexico. John felt a bit of a pang of worry as he left the room to head downstairs. The whole house was different, smaller than the one Jen grew up in, but this was their house.

Nate stood by the front door, scruffy as ever, though in purple basketball shorts, and a white tank top with a neck low enough to show off the hairy cleavage between his pectorals. Nate loved showing off his chest. He held to protein shakes in his hands, holding one out to John as he reappeared. "Ready to go? Got everything?"

"Yup. Thanks, hun." John said as he took the offered drink, exchanging a quick kiss with his husband, and they both headed out the door and to Nate's jeep.

~~~JUST A QUICK STOP~~~

As John say in the Jeep and they cruised along other memories came to him. They owned a gym together, one that was labeled as LGBT friendly. Unfortunately that gave it a bit of a reputation (not entirely undeserved) for locker room shenanigans. The members were warned not to let it get too out of control. He thought they were off to work for the day, but instead noticed they were taking a different route.

"Are we headed to the school?" John asked, giving his husband a bit of a glance.

"Yeah, I just need to drop off something Ralph left at the gym last time he was there, asked me to on my way in." Nate just grinned as he pulled into a parking space in front of the high school and grabbed a gym bag out of the back seat.

Ralph. John wracked his brain, and a face came easily to mind. Ralph was Mr. Nolan, a young and quite good looking English teacher at the school. Young.. though probably close in age to what Nate and John were now. In fact, he was a regular at the gym and friends with them, and gay. That little bit of knowledge would break many a girl's heart in the school. He was quite popular among the girls, for his good looks. Fit, handsome…

John preferred his husband of course, and he watched Nate's backside happily as he went into the school, but if he was going to pull someone in for a threesome, Ralph would be near the top of the list. Then John saw someone else heading into the school, someone he recognized and sent a small spike of anger through him.

"Kyle!"

Kyle blinked as he heard his name shouted in a deep voice and looked around trying to figure out where it came from. Finally his eyes settled on a good-looking, bearded man in his mid-twenties sitting in an oddly familiar Jeep. He knew he had the right person when he was being motioned over. He looked around skeptically, but due to his call to Jen this morning he was already running late for class. No one else was really around, but he had to say he was curious.

He headed over to the car, to see the other guy getting out. "Do I know you?"

The guy grinned and then moved quick, one arm wrapping around Kyle's chest and arms to keep them pinned and another going over his mouth. "Transform or dare?"

Kyle could feel himself start to panic. No way.. this couldn't be Jennifer. He was trying to answer but the big hand over his mouth was too strong. He knew the seconds were ticking away and there was nothing he could do but flail around and hope somebody saw him. No one did. Eventually he was let go and he gasped for air.

"Oops, too bad, you get both." The guy leaned back against the jeep, arms across his chest. "You know, I was angry with you at first. But I'm actually really liking how things turned out."

"Jennifer?"

"John now, actually. Yeah, turns out Nate was gay, and we had to get older to be together.. I don't know. This shit is weird." Kyle's mind was reeling, Nate? Jen's boyfriend and captain of the football team? No. He wasn't anymore, Kyle guessed.

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Easy. What you did to me, except can't have first person you see. That'd be me and I'm quite happy with Nate. So. For your dare, you'll fall in love, emotionally and sexually to the next person you hear say your name, first and last. For your transform, you'll change to what they'd find appealing in a partner. I don't want to risk messing up what I have, so only you'll change. But only you and I will have memories of who you were before." Inside the school bell rang. "Better run to class, you're late."

Kyle wanted to say something, but he took off into the school. He only slowed slightly as he passed Nate, eyes going wide in recognition, but then hurried past.

John watched Nate step out of the way of the rushing Kyle, shaking his head in the way adults do at the antics of teens. "Ready to go to the gym?" Nate asked. John nodded his head as he hopped into the Jeep. Maybe things really would be better like this.

~~~ NEW LESSSONS ~~~

Kyle booked it to his first period class, coming in the door as the teacher was already lecturing. "Kyle Perkins. You're late. Take your seat."

He was already headed to his usual spot, taking off his backpack, though hearing his name hit him like a ton of bricks falling on him. He had heard Jen.. John after all. "Sorry, I.."

Mr. Nolan held up his hand. "No excuses, just sit down." Kyle stared at Mr. Nolan, he hadn't expected the curse to work on Jennifer, but it did, unless she paid off that dude to fake him out. And now, if it was going to work on him, he was staring at his future lover. Jen.. John had cheated though, right? He kept Kyle from answering, maybe that would..

Kyle found himself staring at Mr. Nolan, his train of thought drifting away. His ass looked really, really good in those pants.

Kyle shook his head. School rumor might have said Kyle was gay, but he wasn't. But here he was staring at his male teacher's ass and getting a hardon from it. Rumor also said Mr. Nolan might be gay, something about one of the seniors spotting him at a gay friendly gym. The rumor didn't hold much traction though. Most of the female students had the hots for him, and Kyle was beginning to see why.

At twenty-five, he was certainly the youngest teacher at the school, but he was also super fit, supposedly having played baseball in college. As such he had a prominent chest and thick arms used to swinging a bat. His dress shirts always fit him a bit on the snug side, showing off some of his physique. Rumor also said he was pretty well hung. But he didn't wear his pants as tight as his shirt, but some student claim to have caught him tented. The usual high school bullshit. His black hair was cut short and styled up in the front, his jaw always sporting a couple days worth of designer stubble. The dark hair contrasted sharply with his bright blue eyes.

Kyle didn't know how long he had been staring off at Ralph but his clothes were becoming uncomfortably tight. Mr. Nolan.. not Ralph. Without even asking Kyle grabbed his bag, got to his feet and rushed into the hallway. No one stopped him. He was trying to figure out where to go when he saw the door to one of the staff bathrooms. Single occupancy with a locking door. Students were forbidden from using it, but Kyle needed to figure out what was going on. He ducked inside and shut the door, locking it tight.

Just in time, too. As the door shut, Kyle's clothes just vanished, leaving him standing in the bathroom naked. Kyle had never been the biggest guy, in fact he would usually be on the bottom of the pack. Scrawny nerd was usually a kind way of describing him. But he could instantly see why his clothes had been getting tight. He was bulking up. Not much yet, but he wasn't a skinny twig person anymore.

Even in the mirror his features were changing. His lank, mousey brown hair which he 'styled' by keeping it short enough to stay out of his eyes was starting to curl and develop a bit of a sheen, darkening to a darker, rich brown. The freckles spattered across his cheeks and nose were vanishing as his skin darkened slightly to a naturally tan color. He knew it was natural, there were no tan lines on him, and even his nipples and cock had darkened to a subtle brown. His eyes which were already brown actually paled a bit, brown, but a paler almost gold. He looked Latino, or maybe mixed? It was hard to pin down exactly.

He was still growing, too. Kyle Perkins was small, the man he was becoming was definitely not. It felt like every bone in his body had turned to taffy and was being stretch out. First his feet and hands, then his legs and arms. He had to readjust the way he was leaning on the counter as he went from 5'4" to 6'4" in a matter of minutes. Ralph liked his men tall, he was no shorty at 6'1" but he liked even taller than him. Kyle's once mostly smooth body was also suddenly growing brown-black body hair, especially in his crotch and pits, though his arms and legs were darkening, too.

His face was growing more mature. Losing that smooth roundness of youth, his features becoming sharp and angular. A dark goatee grew in around his mouth and on his chin, the rest of his jaw and cheeks darkening from a thick facial hair shadow except where his sideburns grew in.

His muscles were growing in as well, lean and svelte. A hint of definition without being at all bulky, but he was definitely becoming someone who knew how to keep his body in good shape. He may be taller than Ralph, but his wolf was the bulkier between them.Kyle might even be a bit leaner than John, the man coming to mind. Him and Nate weren't bad looking, the bearish Nate looked like he could be fun, and John was pretty much a wolfish type, which Kyle absolutely loved. It's why he found Ralph so irresistible, and Ralph? Well, Ralph liked his tall lean otters. Which was Kyle to a tee.

Curly brown hair was growing up his stomach in a neat treasure trail, and some spread out along his chest, thicker in the center and lightening at the sides. He wasn't the hairiest guy, but he was proud of what he had. Like everything else about him, his cock was long, 7" flaccid and almost 9" hard, but slim. The changes were slowing, including his aging, seeming to leave him in his mid-twenties. Twenty six to be exact, of course he knew his own age.

Clothes reappeared on his body, jeans, unlike the ratty ones that disappeared these were nicer, designer, appropriate for business casual wear. Teachers were allowed to wear jeans on Fridays. Wait. Teacher? A undershirt and button up appeared over his torso, the top button undone. No tie, but a nice vest appeared over the shirt, accentuating his trim waist. He pulled back his dark, curly hair, pinning it in a loose tail at the back of his head, a few strand escaping which he tucked behind his ear. He knew he was a popular crush among the students, not as much as Ralph was, but he had his following. Imagine if those students knew the two hottest male teachers in the school were an item. They were keeping it mostly mum for now, until they cold figure out if they could both teach at the same school and carry on their relationship.

Kyle would happily change schools if he could stay with Ralph. He had never been so happy with someone. They had both started teaching at this school this year, and instantly fell for each other. The new memories were pushing the old ones down. He could still feel them there, but they were like an odd dream. Kyle Perkins was gone, he was Kyle Perez, a Spanish teacher, and Ralph Nolan's boyfriend.

He grabbed his backpack, which no longer was full of his homework, but other student's homework and grading he had to do, and left the bathroom. He knew the way to his desk by heart. He had no first period class, and was glad for that, gave him time in the morning to prepare for the day. Pulling out his phone he noticed a text.

'Told my friend Nate I was dating, wants to meet you. Invited us over for dinner tonight, free?' Kyle stared at the text, that would be dinner with Nate and the once Jennifer. It could be awkward but… he felt his hand typing almost as if on its own. 'Look forward to it. Lunch?'

He only got a smiley in response but he knew he'd be seeing Ralph at lunch. Leaning back, he got to work on the papers in front of him.

~~~ LUNCH DOESN'T ALWAYS MEAN LUNCH ~~~

It was usually a foregone conclusion that Ralph and Kyle would have lunch together in the teacher's lounge. Everyone expected it, they were known to be good friends among the staff, and even some staff thought there might be something more between them. No, Kyle asking Ralph about lunch meant something quite different.

So after his last class for lunch, Kyle went off towards the back of the school to the old shop lab that was no longer in use. He slipped inside to find Ralph already there waiting for him, leaning back against one of the large worktables with his tie undone.

Soon their lips were locked together as Kyle worked at the buttons of Ralph's shirt. They had made the mistake of popping buttons just once. Thank god Ralph kept a spare shirt in his desk. Kyle pushed Ralph's shirt open, running his hands up his lover's furry, taught stomach and pectorals.

Ralph meanwhile had been working at Kyle's belt and pants and they dropped around his ankles, his underwear tugged down to quickly follow. Ralph's calloused hand, used to wrapping around baseball bats and dumbbells was gentle around Kyle's rigid cock. As he was being stroked off, Ralph buried his face against Kyle's neck, planting kisses and little bites.

Kyle's hands started working at Ralph's belt, and soon his pants and underwear were on the ground, too. Kyle knew there was a rumor around the school that Ralph was a bit of a horse downstairs. Except Kyle knew it was a fact. It had taken him a while to get used to being speared with eleven inches, all nearly as thick as a soda can, but training up to take his boyfriend had been worth it. For now he just wrapped one of his hands around it, stroking it as he met his boyfriend's lips again.

During a lull in their making out and stroking Ralph spoke up, "You know, part of me wishes I was bigger."

"Bigger?" Kyle laughed. "I already feel like you're going to split me in two."

"Not.. not there." He pounded a fist on his bare chest. "Beefier."

"What like a muscle bear? Or taking up body building? What brought this on?" Kyle was still eagerly coaxing Ralph's cock, though definitely curious about the conversation.

"Nate."

"Your gym buddy?" Kyle asked, me knew exactly who Ralph meant, and the brief sight of Nate he had caught this morning on his way to the school. A shaggy, blond muscle bear, all beefy and.. Kyle's cock gave a twitch. Sure, he would happily screw Nate, if he wasn't besotted with Ralph. Though maybe a threesome with him pinned between the two muscular men..

"Yeah, he keeps trying to coax me to put on more muscle, what would you think?"

"I think I'd love you no matter what." Kyle knew it was true, too. The curse had made him fall completely for this man and he knew he was smitten for life. Part of him didn't even care the choice was taken away. "And if I bulked up?" Kyle asked with a smirk.

"Why? You're perfect the way you are." Well, of course he'd say that, Kyle had been turned into his perfect lover, even as he said it he was stripping Kyle free of his shirt and vest. "But if you wanted to, I'd help you."

Then Kyle felt the words passing his lips. "Transform or dare?"

"What?" Ralph laughed. "Now you're just messing with me."

Kyle shook his head. "No, trust me, pick transform."

Ralph grinned as if he was just going to amuse his boyfriend. "Okay, fine, transform."

Kyle nodded. "I want you to have the body you want to have, only you and I will notice the difference." And then he kissed Ralph as the man pushed him back onto the work bench, spreading his legs apart.

Ralph stripped off his shirt, and stood naked at the foot of the worktable, as he grabbed the small bottle of lube they kept hidden in one of the drawers. Slathering up his cock first, he started to work some into Kyle's hole with his fingers. Ralph didn't seem to notice that his body was changing, though Kyle had a front row seat.

It was subtle at first, his muscles growing and popping with newfound strength, months of weightlifting appearing on his body in moments. Soon, then head of Ralph's cock replaced his fingers.

Then Kyle felt that huge shaft sliding inside of him, and he had to hold his breath to keep from crying out. It always hurt a little at first, but was always worth it. Then Ralph began his slow, steady thrusting, each thrust seemed to add a little more muscle to his frame. As speed built, so did the growth. Ralph wasn't a small guy to begin with, but he was becoming a bit of a beast. His arms gripping at the table were actually thicker than Kyle's legs. His pectorals had grown from hard plates to firm mounds.

He was approaching the size of Nate when the growth seemed to slow to a halt, Nate would still have been the bigger between them, but Ralph was a whole lot more cut. Kyle watched mesmerized by Ralph's hard six pack as he flexed his core to keep up his thrusting.

There were other small changes, his chest hair was a bit thicker and denser. Kyle reached up to tangle his fingers in those dark curls, running his thumbs over those large, round nipples, causing Ralph to give a little shudder. He also knew without having to see it that Ralph was now sporting an uncut cock, much like Kyle's. And his eyes, they were blue before, but now they were stunningly bright.

It was like Ralph's desired changes to his form were more to enhance what he knew Kyle enjoyed about his body. As the changes came to an end, Ralph gave one last trust inside of him and came just as Kyle did, the two of them gasping and breathing. They stayed like that for a few moments, Kyle laying on he table splattered with his own cum, and Ralph braced over him.

They were on a time limit though so, Ralph helped Kyle clean up, only slowly coming to the realization of his own change. "Holy crap…"

"Told you it'd work." Kyle couldn't help but grin smugly.

"So that's what a foreskin feels like.. always wondered."

Kyle laughed. "That's your takeaway? Not the forty pounds of muscle?"

"No.. that's nice, too. But uh.." Ralph picked up his shirt, looking at it, then down at his massive chest.

"It'll fit." Kyle assured him, and sure enough the garment had grown, too. Still in Ralph's preferred close fitting style, which was even more ridiculously sexy than it was before. If he hadn't already been the hottest male teacher in the school, he certainly was now.

They helped each other get dressed and Ralph suddenly asked, "Doesn't the transform or dare curse pass from person to person as they're asked? So.. I can pass it on now?" Kyle nodded. "Where did you get it from?"

"I got it back from someone I used it on. It's a long story, but both of us came out better for it, don't worry." Kyle was positive about that, both him an John-once-Jen were better off in their own minds.

"Back? So that was the second time? How'd you get it the first time?" Ralph finished tying off his tie, but Kyle stopped in his tracks.

"I.. I don't know." Kyle was wracking his brain, but he couldn't figure out where he had first gotten the curse.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to.." Ralph stepped over to Kyle. "Maybe we could.."

Kyle shook his head and finished getting dressed. "Leave it alone. I like where I am now, it's probably not worth going into." He kissed Ralph, holding their lips together for a solid minute. "I'll see you after classes." And headed out, followed shortly by Ralph..

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alphawolfstabs · 6 months

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Hey Billy

First off in Resident Evil: Afterlife somehow Wesker is using and holding TWO FUCKING DESERT EAGLES. That seems a bit problematic to me a little bit but you know movie magic right?

Now for the actual question.

If we were in a zombie apocalypse what guns would you use? How would you suit up in a situation like that if you were in let's say The Last of Us, Walking Dead, and Resident Evil kind of situation? Okay maybe not those exact choices maybe start off gentle and scary like The Last of Us.

MOVIE MAGIC IS SO WHACK. T W O DESERT EAGLES??? Jfc, good luck doing that irl.

Anywho-

This will probably be a long post.. whoops but here we are.

STARTING WITH The Last of Us bc currently, in love with that game so it’s fresh in my head:

WEAPONS:

• first things first, some kind of switch blade or, ofc, trusty butterfly knife. Reason being: you’re gonna need a knife or two, you can’t really go in guns blazing all the time, especially for the fckn clickers.

• Pistols: I’d choose a nice classic Colt 1911 pistol. Reason being is quite simple. It’s very popular and has been for a while, John browning gun, 9mm which I find snazzy, low recoil, can be made withhhhh.. polyester I think? Which makes the carryweight good. DOWNSIDE: it can roughly hold 8-10 rounds in the mag, which depending on the situation could be really good or really bad.

Another neat pistol I’d choose would probably be FN Five-seveN. The ammunition is a 5.7x28mm…? 26? 28? One of those- anyways it’s known for its low recoil but good penetration skills. 20 rounds ‼️ The pistol has a Picatinny rail on the lower frame for mounting accessories such as lights, lasers, or red dot sights which would probably be good for certain situations.

• Rifles: I think I would keep at least two rifles on my person- yes they’re big BUT rifles. One that I, for sure, would choose would be the Mossberg 464. Reasons: ITS A LEVER-ACTION. It’s a snazzy gun, good for long distance and such. Not to mention, I just.. I have a problem BSHSJDJEJ. unfortunately, it does only hold 6 rounds but that’s okay bc it’s worth it.

Another Rifle would be the FN SCAR. Reasons: It's a gas-operated, short-stroke piston system, which is known for its reliability and reduced recoil, usually holds 30 rounds, quick change barrel system- over all? I think it would be pretty good against clickers

• Shotguns: LEVER ACTION SHOTGUN. Reasons? ....It's a lever action shot gun man, that's all tbh- one downside is how it only has roughly 6 shots but that's okay bc mmmm lever action.

• How I would suit up: If I'm not experienced and it's just happening, I would be that idiot wearing hoodies and converses and jeans. I have emotional attachments to my jeans fgjakfgdafh

• However If I am experienced and I know what I'm doing: I would probably wear lighter clothes, like a t-shirt and probably still my jeans, because jeans actually would protect me alot- and if I could find some, I would also wear body armor. I would most likely have a good book bag to fit all my shit in like medical supplies, food, water- all of that snazzy shit.

The Walking Dead:

So for this I would take a much much different approach. I would own ONLY two guns, since the noise can draw herds towards you.

• I would have a fckn SEXC Colt Python revolver. [Think rick Grimes- his gun.] Reason: It's a fucking BEAUTIFUL gun, its a .357 magnum so it's got a kick to it and its GOOD. I would use it for emergency use. The second gun I would use would most likely also just be the silly 1911.

• As for more silent weapons, I would use a crossbow. Probably a compound crossbow tbh- Because the mechanical advantage provided by the cam and cable system, along with the increased arrow speed, contributes to the accuracy of compound crossbows- So it's rather very very fast and effective.

Suit up:

If I'm just starting out I would become a hermit. Stay inside with my shit until I run out and need to go get supplies. However If I'm used to everything, I think I would suit up in a similar way as I would in tlou, simply because that, to me, is the simpliest and best way to suit up.

Now I would LOVE to do this for resident evil but, alas, I do not know that game the best. However if I ever get around to watching a gameplay of it, I'll most likely make a post and tag you :)

Thanks for this ask btw!! I love talking about "What if" Situations fgejkgfeakfuy

#fantasylandbitch #AHHHH #autism time #can you tell I'm just a silly guy #HE HE HE #anyways #this was fun to make fgdjkfg #thank you Beth!

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grumpygreenwitch · 8 months

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Fanfiction 6-7-8-9-10

AS A WARNING, there is the implication of violence and abuse in this part.

Please don't forget that reblogs give me life. Though if you wanna throw a coupla bucks in the teacup I'm not gonna say no.

This is probably the longest chunk of chapters you're gonna get. I didn't want to leave a cliffhanger for a whole week. This is also where you can see where my problem is with the Guild Hunter universe.

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1-2-3 + 4-5 + 6-7-8-9-10 + 11-12 + 13-14 + 15-16 + 17-18-19 + 20-21 + 22-23 + 24-25 + 26-27

Alyss found New Hampshire nearly impeccably run, barring a few stray peccadilloes he suspected came from Gracie's staff, not the vampire overseer herself, but he ran into an immediate problem when he started looking into the Vermont books. He went looking for Gevaun and found the man in a large, sunny gym, overseeing the combat training of most of the house staff. Kliman's Second still made the time to move over to a corner to attend to the accountant at once.

Alyss closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and scrunched his wings close to his back as rigidly as possible. Jean was on the far corner of the gym, working on a machine that allowed him to look out of the ceiling-to-floor windows; he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt that fit him like a second skin and his arms were doing things that made the angel's neurons squeal like teenagers. It took a tremendous amount of effort to focus on Gevaun. "The Vermont books I have are copies. And I suspect they're fakes."

Gevaun's eyes went wide. "All of them?"

"They look good, all of them. And I probably wouldn't be able to confirm until I got the hard copies. But you hired me to dig, so I went digging. I think I found the originals. They're in an entirely different part of your cloud directories, locked up tight."

The Second scowled. "Show me. Jean, take over, would you?"

"Alright," the other vampire looked briefly startled to be called on, but he obeyed readily enough as Alyss led Gevaun out of the gym and to his office.

Gevaun talked to Kliman, who talked to someone called Evie, who acquired the services of someone else. Within an hour Alyss had access to the original books and someone called Alistaire was in deep trouble, which kept getting deeper the more Alyss dug. He begged leave to skip dinner as he worked, printing out copies of the information he'd already saved in a separate drive. When the knock came to the door he didn't even look up. "Come in."

"Holy crap." Jean's voice was low and surprised. "Isn't accounting supposed to be organized?"

Alyss looked up, startled. He was sitting on the floor once again, surrounded by a sea of printouts, a red pen in his mouth, a blue one tucked behind one ear, and a yellow one stuck to the collar of his shirt. He spat out the pen to speak. "Oh, this, I mean, it is. I am! Organized. It's just a very particular sort of organized." He stared at the office. "It makes sense to me," he finished weakly.

"That's what matters," the vampire replied evenly, and the angel felt a little better. "But I brought dinner and I don't think you got anywhere to put it down in here. It's quick food," he assured Alyss when the accountant looked at all his work. "And Chere’ll be mad if I have to take it back. The last person you want angry at you is the one cooking your food."

"I know, I know." Alyss stretched. His spine and his wings both felt kinked and cramped. "I guess I can break for a bit." He followed the vampire into his room, and Jean set the tray he was carrying on top of a small, decorative desk. Before Alyss could protest, Jean sat on the bed, which left the accountant to take a seat before the tray.

"Can I ask what you're doing, or is it hush-hush?"

"Some of it is, but yes, you can ask. I'm running five-year audits on everyone who works for Kliman. This just got a little more, erm, complicated because I keep finding things wrong."

"Alistaire stealing from Kliman?"

"I don't know what he's doing, exactly, but it's not nice," Alyss declared primly, making Jean smile faintly. The angel found two sandwiches and a tremendous wedge of egg custard pie on the tray and started making short work of them. "And there's so much of it that he couldn't just hide it, he had to make a whole other set of books to try and pretend it doesn't exist."

Jean tried to focus on what Alyss was telling him but it was hard. Was it ever hard. The angel, so guarded and shy, burst into life like a sunflower when he started speaking of his work, his gestures and his voice full of animation. The delicate features, usually so pale and still, glowed with life, and the dark brown eyes filled with light. He did this thing, the vampire realized, where one of his wings twitched when he made a particularly energetic point, where someone else might have gestured sharply with one hand.

"I'm sorry, I'm probably boring you."

"You're not. Just not sure I'm following all of it. You make it sound like you can't hide anything when it comes to business."

"Oh, you can hide so many things, so many. You just have to work at it, and it's twice as hard, but -" Alyss drew himself up sharply, and went so profoundly red that Jean could see the color creeping over his face by gradients. "Which I would never ever do, of course, not ever." He stuffed a giant bite of pie in his mouth.

Jean couldn't help a low, rusty little chuckle, and Alyss stared. Gaunt and exhausted as the vampire looked, when he smiled, which was so rare, and when he laughed, which he'd only heard twice, his eyes came to life like spring coming to the world, green and vibrant. "Don't need to worry about me, Alyss. Not gonna sell out your trade secrets. I'm just... It's weird. Never heard of an angel wanting to be an accountant."

"I'm the only one I know of," Alyss agreed. "My parents are very disappointed." When Jean's brows shot up he shrugged a little. "I guess they wanted me to follow in their footsteps."

"What do they do?"

"As far as I've ever been able to tell? Nothing. Be adored. They go from lover to lover, have them pay for everything and then flit away to the next person when they get bored. I'm sure it's a very fun life for them, it's just not the life I wanted."

"They had you, though. There must be something there."

"I was an accident. They weren't nearly as interested in the baby as they are in the, er, baby-making," Alyss declared primly, sipping at his tea and flushing faintly. "They're complicated people."

'Complicated', Jean had long ago learned, was what one called the people you desperately wanted to care for you, even if they never would. "I think their disappointment is their loss," he said simply.

Alyss nearly choked on his drink. "Ahm. Well, what about you? Where are you from? Wait, is that alright to ask? You don't have to answer."

"It's fine."Jean figured the questions would come, eventually, and he'd rather they come from someone like Alyss, someone who seemed truly, honestly nice. "Mississippi, a long time ago. If you mean the angel, you wouldn't have heard of him. It was in Africa, very small little place." He rolled to his feet before Alyss could think of any more questions to ask. "I'll take the tray if you're done -"

"Oh, you don't have to, I can -!" Alyss scrambled to his feet and grabbed hastily for the tray. He moved so abruptly, so unexpectedly, that the end result was to have the vampire nearly crash into his back, between his wings, so close that the warmth of him rolled like a summer breeze over the feathery down peeking out of the angel's shirt.

Both men froze. The wings twitched once and then went rigidly still. Jean was close enough to see a deep blush against the pale skin of the angel's neck; he could also see the quick beat of his pulse there. He could smell the old book and ancient library scent of him. There was not even an inch between his fingers and those amber-colored feathers, and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to sink his hands into them and find out if they were as fine, as silky, as soft as they looked. The vampire suddenly realized, in a blaze of enlightenment, that Alyss would likely not stop him.

Alyss closed his eyes. He hadn't had anyone this intimately close to him in well over a decade, and even then it had been more awkward than enticing. But the spicy scent of Jean, mingled with the faint smell of the woods and a passing hint of soap and aftershave, felt cataclysmically erotic in ways he couldn't even begin to understand. His hands were shaking and he took them from the tray before the clatter could give him away, but he didn't dare move in any direction. He could barely breathe as it was.

"Alyss." His name spoken by that low, calm voice felt newly minted to the world and loaded with decadent, unspoken suggestions.

"Um," was all the angel could croak out and he could have kicked himself for it, eyes closing and head lolling down minutely in embarrassment. He heard that low, rusty chuckle, brief and ephemeral, as if Jean were only just learning how to make the sound, and his head whipped around, only to find himself dangerously close to the face of the much taller vampire. His breath caught.

Jean blew out a slow breath, saw it touch the angel’s lips, saw Alyss lick them automatically, and knew he’d been right.

Alyss saw the vampire step back. And then he felt a touch, as delicate as a kiss, along the leading edge of one of his wings.

"I'll take the tray. You've got work."

"Okay," the angel managed to strangle out, knees gone wobbly at such a tiny, tiny gesture. He stepped aside somehow, watched the vampire pick up the tray and head out without another word, and crashed down to sit on the bed not knowing what to even think of the new shape of the world.

How was he supposed to get back to work after that?!

After a week, Alyss realized Alistaire's crimes were infinitely worse than falsifying his accounts. Things had escalated so that he was giving Kliman a nightly report, usually with Gevaun and Lilah in attendance, if the latter wasn't traveling.

"Call in Rook," Kliman told Lilah after one particularly convoluted and vicious bit of business. "This only gets worse the more I hear of it." As the liaison nodded and left the room, the older angel turned to her accountant. "Alyss, you have new directions."

"Yes, ma'am?" The young angel drew himself up straight.

"Do what you can so Alistaire's successor can get past all of this," she waved her hands over the documentation the accountant had brought her, "and anything else you discover, and get things back on the proper course."

"Yes, ma'am."

She waved him away and Alyss picked up his papers and fled the room. He was just past the door when he heard Gevaun's voice rumble.

"He's going to run."

"He will try," Kliman said icily. "Rook will make sure he does not get far."

Alyss rushed down the hallway and up half a flight of stairs, and that was as far as he got. He leaned against the wall, shaking, holding onto his paperwork as if it were a life raft. He didn't know anything, not the warmth of the house around him, not the rainy view outside the round window off to one side of him, only the hammering of his heart.

"Alyss?"

The angel nearly jumped out of his skin at that familiar voice. When he spoke, his words were shaky with relief. "Oh, Jean."

The vampire moved closer, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, well, um. I think I just killed someone." Alyss tried to shrug, it came out a shiver. Tried to smile and it came out terribly wobbly.

Jean's brows shot up, and he moved closer still. He'd have expected any number of reactions from an angel who admitted to such a thing; Alyss' was not on that list. Instead of saying anything he touched, very lightly, the back of one of those white-knuckled hands. "Alyss -"

"I've been working on the Vermont data, I mean, you know I have, everyone knows I have, of course you'd know, and I keep finding things wrong, and more and more wrong, and of course I report everything to Gevaun and Lilah and Kliman, so they have to do something about it, but I got so used to everyone being happy here, everyone's happy here, and I didn't think -"

"Alyss," Jean said a third time, and put a calloused thumb over the angel's lips.

Alyss cut himself off with a squeak.

Jean had to very sternly talk himself into pulling his hand away. "Did you put a gun to Alistaire's head? Did you force him to do whatever it is he did?" When the angel shook his head meekly, Jean shrugged. "He's a grown man, Alyss. He's nearly two hundred years old, and he's worked for Kliman all of his free life. He knows the rules. He's the one who chose to break them. And when he could've come clean he chose to go in even deeper." Very carefully, very pointedly he added, "his crimes aren't for you to carry."

When the angel drew in a stuttering, uncertain breath, his brown gaze skittering away, Jean had to accept a realization he'd been shying away from. "You're not used to places like this, are you. Kliman's house. Where everyone's... happy." God, more and more the vampire was being forced to accept that the accountant might actually be a decent creature.

Alyss shook his head. "I've seen such things, Jean," he whispered. "They aren't fair and they aren't right and no one does anything about them because they're vampires." He huffed. "’Oh, they're just vampires’," he mocked a snooty tone, then scowled. "We made them that. We made you that. And then everyone just, just -"

"Hey." Jean caught the accountant by the shoulders and shook him lightly. "Can you change Alistaire?"

"No. I mean... No, I don't even know him."

"How far back do your records go?"

"Oh, I'm anywhere between five and twenty years in for some of them and I'm still -"

"I know it’s different for angels, Alyss, but for normal people twenty years is an eternity. People can change so much in twenty years, if they want to. He just got worse. Was he going to stop if you didn't catch him?"

Jean watched that sweet brown gaze dart this way and that, running from reality, trying to find an answer other than the truth. In the end the angel sagged down, beaten. "No."

"God." The vampire looked at nothing in particular for a long moment before giving Alyss his attention again. "You're nicer than anyone deserves, you do know that?"

"I'd like to think I'm the normal level of nice," the angel replied in a mutinous murmur.

Jean had to grin at that. "I'll help you to your room." When he saw the amber wings twitch, the vampire reconsidered. "Have you been to the sunroom yet?"

"I don't think so."

"Come on. We'll drop off your stuff and I'll give you the tour I guess no one gave you when you got here."

The weather shifted to crisp, chilly and sunny autumn days; the change, as much as the shift in the direction of his work, helped Alyss shake off his glum.

Much of it, he had to admit, had to do with his conversation with Jean. The vampire hadn't been cruel but he'd been blunt, and honest, and calm. Alyss might not like it but he knew Jean was right, and to a certain degree so were Gevaun and Kliman. He couldn't, wouldn't ever approve of the casual, gleeful cruelty he'd witnessed against other vampires, but Alistaire was not the sort of vampire that would respond to kindness. To him it was simply a weakness to be exploited.

It made Alyss mad, though. Alistaire's attitude was precisely why no one cared when other vampires suffered at the hands of their angels. One horrible rotten apple, ruining life for everyone else in the barrel.

The Connecticut angel arrived early next morning. He was very much what everyone expected of an angel, tall and powerfully built, young, with sharply defined features and piercing eyes, short brown hair and red and brown wings serrated with white. He suffered a hug from Kliman which he stiffly tried to return, shared a strong, friendly handshake with Gevaun and ignored the fact that the entirety of the house staff was peeking out of every window. When they were introduced he examined Alyss for all of three seconds and immediately dismissed him. The accountant gratefully scurried back to his office, where he stayed until dinner time rolled around and he was told Kliman's enforcer would not be joining them, having already gone on his way. He still spent dinner listening to the staff swoon and gush over the Connecticut angel, fleeing as quickly as the excellent chicken pot pie allowed it. Listening to other people list the many ways in which he himself was not a noteworthy angel wasn't his idea of a good time.

If it weren't utterly unthinkable, he would have put something terrible in the Connecticut books just to be horrible and petty and mean. But it would have been... well, horrible and petty and mean. And dishonest, which was something Alyss tried never to be unless he were specifically hired for it. And even then he was always very dubious about taking on that kind of job, because it unfailingly got complicated and sticky and unpleasant.

Besides, as he paced restlessly through his office and room, staring at his tablet, he was already wondering if he hadn't ended up embroiled in precisely that kind of situation.

Maine wasn't adding up.

Maine was run directly from Kliman's home, directly by the angel. Chere ruled over the kitchen, yes, but part of the reason Kliman had a liaison was so she could oversee her house and her state personally. Every decision that might have caused the books to be wrong would have to go through her. Could it be a test? To see if Alyss really was as good as he claimed? Could it be a trap? The discrepancies weren't terribly big but they were there, needling him.

Alyss snatched a cloak and threw himself out of the balcony, circling once and gliding down to the short, lighted path that followed the perimeter of the pond. He had to get away, had to clear his head. He needed the silence of the woods; he regretted his choice almost immediately, when the cold of the season, compounded by the proximity of the water, slammed into him and left him shivering. He wrapped his wings around himself as best he could and clung to the cloak, muttering very unkind things about his inability to ignore the cold.

In the dark and the silence, the distant sound of an unfamiliar engine came to him on the breeze and for a moment he fancied he heard Jean's voice. It shot a pang through him and he realized he missed the vampire; he hadn't caught a single glimpse of him through the entire day. Shivering, he hurried in the direction of the sounds. He found himself going through the dark woods, on a road he didn't recognize and could barely be called one, and pulled his wings even closer to himself, wary. The road brought him to another side of the marshlands that dominated a good third of Kliman's estate and to an entirely unexpected sight.

Across perhaps fifty or sixty feet of still water he could see the wooden walkway that ran along the other side of the marsh. There was a boat there, the shallow-keeled type, engine humming very quietly in the still, cold air. Three people were already on it, two of them huddled down as close to one another as they could, the third minding the engine and holding a violet-tinted, very small light. There were six more people on the walkway, and even as he looked Alyss recognized one as Gevaun. Kliman's Second was wearing dark, comfortable clothing, and even as Alyss looked he saw the vampire pick up one of the other figures and set them down gently on the boat, holding on until the new passenger had found their footing. By his side, someone else in a dark, heavy lined jacket handed over a small bag.

Alyss knew that jacket. That was Jean. What was going on? The whole thing had the feel of something clandestine and dangerous, but Gevaun and Jean were... well, maybe not friends but they were good people. Gevaun was the sort of person that came to mind when the angel thought of the word 'stalwart'. And Jean, well, Jean was Jean.

Skirting the edges of the marsh and hoping that he wouldn't run himself into any more horrible spiky briers, Alyss inched closer to the strange little gathering. He paused at the very edge of the woods without setting foot on the walkway, knowing that if he did he'd be far too visible, even if the vampires didn't scent or hear him. He was honestly surprised they hadn't heard him already; to the accountant his passage through the woods had sounded only a little quieter than an avalanche.

He was close enough to hear Jean speak in that low, calm, steady tone he knew so well to one of the other people, a smaller figure than most of them there, though the angel was still too far away to make out the words. The vampire then picked them up, careful and slow.

There was still a muffled cry of pain ringing clear over the marsh.

Alyss gasped out loud and surged a step forward before he knew what he'd done, driven by an instinct older than the world. He froze almost immediately, but the heads of both the vampires had whipped around as if they were starving predators who'd scented blood. The angel groped blindly behind him for support that most obviously wasn't there, backing away from the scene. He turned to run.

A painfully strong grip caught his shoulder, spun him around and slammed him wings-first into the nearest tree. He cried out in surprise more than pain, reaching out to try and grab onto his attacker... and froze.

A knife, a long hunter's blade keenly sharp on a weathered wooden handle, was pressed against the skin of his throat, just under his chin. Alyss froze, disbelieving and terrified, a tiny chirping sound of panic escaping him.

Gevaun's eyes went very wide when he realized who he'd caught. His expression, which had sharpened to nearly wolf-like lines, crashed into chagrin, and he very succinctly summed up both the situation and everyone's feelings about it. "Well, crap."

"Walk, Alyss," Gevaun commanded, turning the accountant around to face the walkway, his tone brooking no argument.

"I'd rather just go -"

"Matt has a rifle, Jean has a shotgun, I have a lot of knives and you're just getting to your third century. Walk."

Huddled miserably in his cloak, his wings dragging behind him and his whole body shaking in incomprehending fear, Alyss dutifully walked up to the little scene he'd spied on the walkway, his feet occasionally catching on the uneven planks.

"Alyss." Jean's tone and expression were both stricken. Behind him, three figures huddled closer at the sight of the angel. Alyss could all but smell the fear in the air, thicker even than the unmistakable scent of the vampires. He could also smell blood, and it made his feathers shift restlessly. "What," Jean demanded, "are you doing here?" He was having trouble accepting that he might have misjudged the angel so badly, or believing that Alyss could indeed be a spy. He didn't make that kind of mistake, he never had.

"My head was full," Alyss muttered, and there, before the vampire, the person that he'd come to trust above all others in Kliman's house, it was as if a dam had broken. "It was all numbers and chaos rattling around and I couldn't get it to stop because it's all a mess that I can't, I can't fix because it's these books, for here, for Maine and those shouldn't be wrong but they are and -"

"Alyss." Jean lifted a hand to quiet the angel, to soothe him as he had before, and Alyss jerked away, fear in the rich brown of his eyes. The vampire froze. It was a gesture he was far too familiar with, that flinch. His life had been full of it for the past few centuries. But he'd never been the one to provoke it on someone he knew, someone he cared for. He stepped back, his features graven in stone. "Gevaun -"

"I have no bloody clue what to do," the other vampire admitted in Berber.

"He's not a spy," Jean matched the language.

"Jean, I know you like the sunflower but he was there. Hiding in the woods, looking at us. That's normally called spying."

"He's not a spy!"

"Even if he's not, now what? We cut him loose and hope he doesn't tell anyone? His mouth runs, you'll have noticed!"

Jean had no response to that, the very concept seeming so utterly outlandish to him, so he switched tacks. "What do you want to do, kill him? Somehow? He's not old, but he's old enough to make it hard. And how do we explain that when the Refuge comes asking after him?"

"There's no one who'd come asking for him," Gevaun replied ruthlessly.

Jean saw the flinch a second before Alyss joined the conversation in the same language. "I speak Berber, you know." He sounded tired and defeated.

Everyone went quiet once again. Behind Jean, one of the huddled figures started shivering so hard their teeth were clacking. Alyss automatically threw his wings back and undid the clasps on his cloak.

"What are you doing?" Gevaun demanded.

"They're cold," Alyss murmured, slipping the cloak off and stepping forward.

"What," Gevaun tried to step forward between the angel and the three figures, but found his way momentarily barred by one of those amber wings, "are you doing, get -"

"They're cold!" Alyss nearly shouted at the vampire before moving forward.

The shivering figure was a young man, absolutely beautiful, with very pale skin and refined features, eyes gone wide with terror at the sight of the angel. He was so cold in the bleak New England night his lips were turning purple, but he didn't move. His fear went to confusion, and then embarrassed gratitude, when Alyss threw the cloak over his shoulders, to cover the flimsy embroidered tunic and blousy black pants that were all he wore. "Gracias."

"De nada," Alyss replied automatically, stepping back and whirling to face the two vampires. "You're both wearing jackets. You're both old! He's a baby, and you didn't think to give him one? To bring a blanket or something for him? For the rest of them?"

The silence lingered before Jean admitted, "We don't speak Spanish, neither of us. We didn't know who was coming, only that -"

"Jean!"

"- only that they were coming," the vampire finished stubbornly, and he and Gevaun glared wordlessly at one another.

"Oh, for the love of prime numbers!" Alyss cried out, turning once again, his voice gentle and his question pointed. One of the other three, a woman, spoke to him in a different language, and he switched seamlessly to match her.

"Oi," the vampire at the boat's rudder suddenly called out. "I'm sure this is a problem for you lot, but I need to get them out of here quick." He threw in an extra incentive. "Van's heated."

Jean turned around. "Alyss," he called out, and gestured to the third woman, who was wrapped up in a fine woolen blanket stitched with ribbons and exquisite embroidered edges. "Tell her I will help her into the boat, but it's gonna hurt."

"Why is it -" The question withered in Alyss' mouth as the truth, finally, bloomed to life in his mind.

Runaways. They were all runaways.

He turned to the woman, who was staring sightlessly at the marsh, and began gently asking questions, rolling through every language he knew. She twitched at one point, and finally turned to not quite face him when he translated for Jean.

"It's only pain," she murmured emotionlessly, her Finnish without accent. "I will try not to cry out this time."

"She understands," Alyss told Jean, his mouth dry with the new, growing horror of it. He turned to the other woman waiting on the dock. "You're all... This is... You could die, you know, you could die if they catch you," he told her in Polish.

She scoffed. There were bruises like shadows all over her face, and scars all along her neck; as a vampire she was young enough that she wasn't healing quickly, and her healing was not clean. Either that, or someone had made an effort to make sure she got no benefit of either. "Better to die than to go back to that life," she replied, and her conviction was ironclad.

"Is that... why you're here? All of you?"

"No." Her gaze darted to where Jean was carrying the Finnish vampire onto the boat. "No. Some of us are here because they would have never let us die."

That thought, Alyss found out, was even more horrifying than the possibility of a cruel death.

He shook his head when the young man offered him the cloak back and stood there, watching while they all boarded, and then as Jean and Gevaun shoved the boat away with long poles until it was clear of the cattails bordering the walkway. Someone lifted an arm and waved before the boatman turned off his light and the darkness swallowed them all.

Alyss automatically waved back and heard Gevaun sigh, saw the Second rub at his face. Well, as far as the angel was concerned there was really only one thing he could say, and so he said it. "Your accountant is absolutely terrible and hasn't bothered to hide all of the money you're stealing for this at all."

Gevaun turned very slowly to stare at the angel, his expression full of disbelief. "You audited us?"

"Of course I did!" Jean saw Alyss' wings twitch with the angel's exasperation. "You hired me to audit you!"

"To audit them!"

"To audit New England! Which you're part of! What, were you expecting I'd do a terrible job?! Or, or, or not do my job at all?!" When Gevaun, caught off-guard by the very obvious counter, sputtered, Alyss barreled on. "And it's lucky it was me and not someone from New York because your books are the worst mess, no one's made so much as an effort to hide the fact money's going missing everywhere, I can't imagine what something like this costs, except obviously not enough to buy blankets or, I don't know, have something warm to drink when they -" Alyss trailed off, another piece of the puzzle clicking into place.

Hot cocoa and warm croissants, always ready in the kitchen.

Gevaun looked sheepish. "Chere was asleep when we got the call."

Alyss covered his face and made a wordless, high-pitched sound of impatience.

"We weren't expecting this many of them!"

"Then you make plans for when it happens, because it's going to happen! Things always go wrong. Always! That's one of the first things you learn running a business, that's why you make plans, and contingencies for the plans, and contingencies for the contingencies, and you don't very well leave them lying around on your documents for when the Guild comes calling, which honestly I'm astonished they haven't -"

"Kliman happens," Jean pitched in, voice quiet, arms crossed.

"What?" Alyss lost track of the conversation, turning to face the other vampire.

"If the Guild comes by, Kliman happens to them," Jean repeated. "She shuts down their skills. Part of her power."

"How's that going to help if someone in Manhattan decides to go over your books electronically? Or if they send in angels or, or, or the Consort? Couldn't you at least, I don't know, pretend like you aren't getting runaway vampires to safety? Did you go to the cheap bin for your accounting? Do you even have one?!"

"We do, b-"

"Well, then I want to talk to them," the angel demanded, drawing himself up, an effort to look commanding that was entirely ruined by the fact he was shivering in the cold. "I want to talk to your accountant," he declared primly, and it almost sounded like a threat. Almost. Except for the part where he tripped on the walkway once again when he tried to stalk off into the dark.

"Let him go," Jean's voice was very low when he spoke to stop Gevaun, who'd whipped around to follow after the angel.

"But -"

"But his mouth runs?" The vampire's brows went up. "He's an accountant, Gevaun. He's been an accountant to hundreds of angels and vampires, most of them the kind no one else wants to touch. And nobody's heard a peep of the crap he probably found and fixed on their books, have they?" He clicked his tongue, walking sedately away. "His mouth runs," he mocked. "We better go wake up the, uh, the cheap bin accountant."

Alyss went to his room and paced, and flailed, and argued with himself a great deal.

On the one hand, he couldn't disagree with what Gevaun and Jean had done. Yes, vampires were dangerous, predatory, horrible. Yes, many of them were no better than Alistaire. At the middle ground, they were no better than Andrew, content to coast through life doing the bare minimum. Or Gracie, clueless and happy to remain so. And the threat of losing control to their hunger for blood was always there, always.

But at some point the burden of Alistaires meant that everyone had stopped looking closely at the matter. The angels, the Guild, they had given up the entire vampiric population as a loss, blood-thirsty fiends without will or thought, bent merely on greed and destruction. The Guild had even made a concerted effort to render the VPA toothless, unable to protect those like the Finnish woman. They'd been so busy wanting free reign to hunt the monsters that they'd set up the victims to be trampled in their wake. Bloodlust was treated as a noose around their neck, a sword forever dangling over them. Alyss had long ago given up trying to understand the sheer stupidity of that way of thinking, because it didn’t affect him. It didn’t touch him.

That night, it most certainly had touched him.

On the other hand, every mortal who wished to become a vampire chose to do so. They chose to accept a hundred years of servitude. They were given the contract to read, to consider, to sign or reject as they saw fit.

But a contract did not excuse the abuse he'd seen on the Polish woman. Or the horror he hadn't seen on the Finnish woman.

He was, Alyss realized, losing the argument to a part of himself that was heavily implying that rules and laws were more like guidelines, really, arr. And he didn't know what to make of it. He was an accountant. He lived his life to bring numbers to order by following a very specific set of rules. Certainly he could twist them, bend them, but he had always done his best to abide by the rules and to do what was right. Never before in his life had the two principles been so diametrically opposed.

There was a delicate knock on the door he'd locked, and he dug the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Please, Chere, I really don't feel like eating!"

"It's not Chere," a cheerful woman's voice replied. "I'm the accountant."

Oh, this was a fight Alyss was more than ready for. He stalked to the door, unlocked it and flung it open. "Do you realize -"

His voice strangled to a delicate whine. There was a sword tip brushing his throat, just above his Adam's apple. It was a fine burnished length of steel, both edges sharpened, without guard; it was done in the old Etruscan style. The pommel was wrapped in leather, utilitarian rather than decorative.

Kliman, wearing a pair of very comfortable hiking pants and a soft pink knit sweater, smiled thinly at the younger angel. "Hello, Alyss. You wanted to talk to me?"

Alyss had automatically thrown his hands up. He looked at the older angel in stunned disbelief and swallowed against the lump of terror in his throat. It refused to budge.

"Back." The smile vanished, Kliman all business. "My house doesn't need to deal with this potential ruckus." She herded him back into the room, the sword never wavering, and closed and locked the door behind her. "Now, there's always the balcony," she admitted. "But if you run I'm going to chase you. And I'm the one who taught Rook everything he knows."

"I won't," Alyss breathed.

"Eh?"

"I won't run, ma'am, I promise."

"Mm. Unlike Gevaun, I'm willing to believe you." She dropped the sword and sheathed it on a half-sheath resting across her back. "Now, you had a speech all ready to go, didn't you."

Alyss opened his mouth. Closed it. "I forgot it," he admitted hoarsely.

She had to chuckle at that. "Well, how about I give you some facts and you can give me the salient points of it. Yes, I know what Gevaun is doing. I am, in fact, the one that started him doing it. I'm not ashamed of it. No, Jean was not supposed to be involved and I'm very cross at them for it. Yes, there was supposed to be a departure tonight. No, half those vampires weren't supposed to be there but one of the safehouses along the pipeline has been compromised. Yes, all of my staff knows; most of them come from the pipeline. No, I'm not actually an accountant but I had no one I trusted to do the book-keeping, considering..." She waved he hand at the balcony.

Alyss pressed his hands close, trying to decide which of his inner halves ought to speak to this new, terrifying version of his hostess. All things considered, he wasn't terribly surprised when Guidelines, Arr-Alyss won out. "You can't do that, ma'am. Respectfully. Everyone forgets to write down things, and in a big household like this money's bound to get lost, but you're financing an entire, uh... pipeline. And it shows. Does it ever, ever show."

One of Kliman's golden brows went up, though she wasn't about to admit to Alyss why it had done so. Instead, very mildly, she replied, "It's that bad, huh?"

"It's... It's... It's somewhat blatant," Alyss explained as diplomatically as possible, unaware that his struggles had left Kliman trying not to laugh. "I'm just saying, it's not hard to hide what you're doing. It's not easy but it's not... If you're trained it's not outside the realm of possibility."

"Hm. Well, that's delightful to know. When can you get started?"

Alyss choked. "Excuse me?"

"You were terribly angry at me before that door opened. You are still angry, you're just more scared than angry. But you know what I haven't heard from you, not once?" Kliman's voice softened. "Disapproval. It's not even a consideration for you." Some of her amusement shone through. "You're upset that I bungled the books, which is fair. But you don't disapprove of what we're doing here, do you."

Alyss felt the argument within him grow to a crescendo, and finally crown a winner. "No. It needs doing, and no one else seems to care."

"We care." Kliman moved closer to set a warm, gentle hand on Alyss' shoulder. "I care. Please, help me, help us, keep on doing this."

Alyss sighed shakily. "Well, I didn't really have anything lined up after this job. I guess I can stay a little longer."

"Wonderful." Kliman beamed at him, whirled around and headed out of the room. "Now come with me."

"Come where?"

"To make sure Jean hasn't killed someone."

"He... what? Excuse -" Alyss hastily trotted after the older angel. "Excuse, excuse me, he, why would he -"

"Child, you can't be so blind not to see he does more than endure your company. Have you seen him suffer any other angels?" Kliman wasn't slowing down. She led the way to her office and threw the doors open to the vast space, full of rosewood furnishings and ancient Etruscan and Hittite art that would have made a museum curator weep. The room was warm, airy and during the daytime it would likely be brightly lit, even without lamps. At the moment, only one half of it was lit. There, Gevaun and Lilah were struggling to keep a snarling Jean pinned down against a desk surrounded by debris. "There! Here he is, safe and sound, now you can stop being so dramatic," Kliman said tartly. "Let him go."

Gevaun and Lilah stepped back and Jean sprang up and away from them, fangs momentarily bared in an entirely feral reaction. Alyss had stopped at the double doors, a hand stretched out, his face frozen in a stricken expression as, again, too many bits and bobs of information came together in his mind.

The fact it took both Gevaun and Lilah to hold Jean down meant the one vampire he'd thought to be the youngest of the three was actually the oldest. And very, very old.

Jean's not staff. He's a guest and he's currently recovering.

A runaway. Memories flickered through Alyss' mind, the way the young Spanish-speaking vampire had frozen in terror at his proximity, the way the Finnish vampire had not even been able to look at him.

Have you seen him suffer any other angels?

No. He wouldn't even join Kliman's dinner table.

"Jean, are you -" Alyss tripped over the wrong words for the right question. "Are you hurt? Are you going to be alright?"

The entire room came to a stop. Jean's mouth had opened but whatever he'd meant to say, the younger angel's question had trumped it. He swallowed hard. "I'm fine," he gritted out and slowly, very slowly, he reached out for that outstretched hand. Alyss clung to the warm, calloused touch of it. "Are you hurt?" The vampire laced his fingers through Alyss', moving closer with a slow calm he was not feeling but refusing to do anything that might make the angel flinch again.

"Well, my pride, my dignity and my belief I'm halfway-clever are all quite dead," Alyss replied meekly, "but no, I'm fine. Really, I'm fine."

"Alyss has agreed to replace our cheap bin accountant," Kliman informed the room dryly, and the other angel went red to his ears. "Thank goodness, because I hate the job. Now, exciting as this all has been, I think everyone should get some rest tonight and tomorrow. Time enough on Friday to face the world once again." She stalked out of the room, and when no one followed her she snapped, "Gevaun, you're already on my shit list, you might want to do something about that." The vampire hurried after his mistress.

Lilah paused at the door. "Alyss?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you." She was gone without waiting for a reply.

Whatever well of righteous indignation had carried the accountant that far chose that moment to run dry. He threatened to go down with with a startled, puzzled little sound, and he'd have crashed face down on the rich knotted rug if the vampire's powerful arms had not caught him and steadied him against his body. "You're fine, you're fine, I got you."

"I can't feel my knees," Alyss declared dazedly, too dizzy to worry that he was clinging to Jean.

"That's fine." Jean shifted, and Alyss was suddenly up, cradled and carried in the vampire's arms. "Not a fighter, are you?"

"Numbers don't threaten people with knives and swords and things," Alyss protested. "And I think I've done quite well, all things considered."

"You did," the vampire assured him, carrying him away from the office and heading for the accountant's rooms. "The adrenaline wore off, that's all."

"Could I have some from the kitchen, please? This is very undignified. And you shouldn't have to carry anyone if you don't want to."

Once again, Jean couldn't help but feel a smile tugging at him. "Chere's fresh out, I think." The door to Alyss' room had been left open; Jean expertly shoved it closed with a foot once they were inside. "I don't mind carrying you," he admitted at last.

"Why? You're like them. You're -" Alyss looked up, and there was so much worry in the sweet brown of his eyes that the vampire felt it like a physical blow. "It had to be worse for you, so much worse, you're old. You're very old." He went limp against Jean's shoulder. "It's not fair. You're so nice. Only nice things should happen to you."

"And that would be the triple-f crash talking," Jean said, his voice gone rough with emotion at that sentiment, so vast and so simply, so easily offered to him.

"I don't swear," Alyss protested primly.

Jean blew out an amused breath as he set the angel on his bed. "Not that kind of 'f', Alyss. Fight, flight, freeze."

"Oh." Alyss suddenly clung to Jean's shirt. "Stay? Please? I just - Tell me they're gonna be alright. Tell me they'll be safe. I keep seeing them and, and -"

Jean touched a thumb to that runaway mouth, frowned, and fought with the entirely too gleeful part of himself that pointed out that those words totally counted as an invitation to the angel's bed, and from there it was a short hop, skip and jump to doing things the vampire had become unacquainted with over the past few decades. The touch of that wing, like silk and sunshine, lingered in his memory, made his fingers tingle.

He slipped onto the bed, kicking off his boots, but he kept a safe distance between them that threatened to kill him out of sheer inadequacy. "We're just a waystation, a safehouse. Boston sends them to us when they come from overseas, and we find them a life elsewhere. Kliman makes sure they have a way to start over. Evie and her people make up new doc -" Alyss pressed close against the vampire's side. "- uments."

"Everyone has a job. You must have done this so many times."

"No. Twice a year on a good year. Once is the norm. Getting a vampire away from this sort of situation isn't easy, sunflower." The nickname slipped out before he knew what he'd done and Jean could only be glad that the angel was too close to sleep to notice it. "Not if you want them to get away clean. Not if you want to make sure they really need to get away; that they're not rogues looking for an easy way out of their contract. I guarantee at least two angels are going to come sniffing by after tonight. Or they'll send the Guild after us again."

He felt Alyss shiver, mostly asleep. "No. I'll erase everything, they'll never find anything they can use, not a thing, not a number, not a single decimal."

"You do that." Jean was silent, waiting. He was rewarded after a few minutes with the steady breathing that announced Alyss had fallen asleep, exhausted by having to do things very much not in an accountant's repertoire.

And yet he'd been fierce and determined, staunch to a fault even in his terror, and it had been very much been terror - the vampire had smelled it on him like fire licking the walls of Alexandria. Jean knew then that he'd been right: Alyss was a truly good person.

He sighed, wanting very much to stay where he was, knowing he should leave. He shifted to try and slip away -

An arm slid over his chest, followed a moment later by one of those amber-colored wings. Jean froze. "Alyss."

"Mm."

"Alyss, I can't stay here."

"Why?"

A plaintive voice inside Jean was indignantly asking the same question. "They'll think I've slept with you."

"But you are sleeping with me," came the drowsy reply.

Jean realized there was absolutely no way he could explain the semantic differences between what each of them was saying to a bird that wasn't really awake anymore. He tipped his head back and chuckled soundlessly. "I suppose I am," he drawled, admitting defeat, and settling down under the angel's embrace.

#alyss and jean #angel #vampire #fantasy #modern fantasy #urban fantasy #nalini singh #guild hunter #my writing #implied violence #fanfiction #male on male

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itsohh · 2 years

Text

A Military Man into Military Uniforms

A/N: G/Nreader, I started writting this prompt and got a decent way through and was like ‘this isn’t really fitting that much of the prompt’ and when I went to bed last night I was like ‘what if hes not wearing his uniform but the one with the kink’ something that didn’t occur to me at first so lmao. So anyway I restarted this prompt completely fresh.

Day 26: Uniform

Word count: 1805

Warnings: NSFT, smut

AO3 Kinktober Masterlist

It had been a long day, award ceremonies normally were. The sky had been cloudy, a thankful occurrence that prevented you from overheating in the green jacket. A sigh left your lips as you entered the coolness of your room, while it hadn’t been too hot outside, the humidity had made it rather stuffy. It was always nice seeing your comrades appreciated, yourself included, but you could only wish that the ceremony wasn’t so damn long. At least this time you didn’t have to make a speech.

The beret on your head was tossed on the coffee table, your jacket unbuttoned with precision pops and you let out a sigh of relief. The tie was pulled down slightly and loosened enough for comfortable wear. Before you could get too far though, a pair of arms wrapped around you, a head leaning on your shoulder. “Ah how is my leibling?” Elias placed a wet kiss on your cheek and squeezed your body.

“Ah happy to be home.” He had come with you to your home country, your home open for him to share.

“Now if you would be so kind to let go of me I need to go change.” His grip became tighter at your words, his nose pressed against your neck before he gave it a small nip with his teeth.

“But you look so good like this. Pretty.”

“Elias…”

“How often do I get to see you dressed up like this? Not very often.” One of his fingers brushed over the brass buttons for a second before he gave it a little flick.

“Yes and I prefer to keep it that way, I’m so not a fan of our formal uniform.” A whine left his lips in protest and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“But it fits you so well, you look so good.” His words were punctured, enthesis on them. “Keep it on, just a little longer.” Your brows furrowed and couldn't help but wonder why he was so instant on- oh. You were pulled tight against his chest, his pelvis now subtlety grinding into you.

“Who would have thought, a military man into military uniforms.” You teased and he pulled apart the jacket, fingers going to your nipple where he gave it a light tug through your shirt.

“Only for you.” His index finger started to lightly swirl around on your nipple, causing it to become hard, shivers running throughout your body. “It was uh, a bit of a surprise this morning when I saw you all dressed up.” If you could see his face you would have been able to see his red ears and warm cheeks.

“Well, I appreciate you not jumping me and making us late.”

“I have some level of self-control, just a tad.” You pressed your ass against him at the end of his words, an action that made him let out a breathless little moan. “I won't though if you keep doing things like that.” Seconds ticked by as you stayed still, a cheeky smile formed on your face and slowly, you pressed against his restrained cock once again. “That's it.” Was all the warning you received before he pushed you forward causing you to stumble onto the couch with a laugh.

Elias was quick to go for your belt, undoing it and pulling your pants down and onto the floor. Your back spread out on the sofa, he knelt down on the floor in front of his, lips kissing up your thighs. As he neared your pelvis, he gave you a quick wink as his hands ran up and down the inside of your thighs. A kiss pressed against your sex which turned into light little testing licks that teased you. “Mmm.” He hummed before he put his mouth to work, sucking on the most sensitive area of it.

Elias’s hands had a good grip on you, preventing you from bucking against his mouth, his actions were merciless, pleasuring you without hesitation. He grinned against you when his name left your mouth in a breathy moan, a tug at his hair. Successfully all worked up, your eyes had fluttered closed, enjoying the sensation of his mouth. Only when he parted from you with a wet sound did your eyes open.

“Ah, where do you keep your uh gleitgel?” He pulled back and you stared at him stunned for a second. The realisation that he was still unfamiliar with your house washed over you and you let out a small ‘o’ shape with your mouth.

“Side of the bed, second draw down.” He nodded and let you there.

“Don’t move a muscle!” He called over his shoulder and you started to undo the tie just a little bit more. “I mean it!”

“Alright alright.” You stopped your actions and briefly heard him rummaging around in your bedroom before he popped back into the living room with a grin. Elias waved the bottle in front of you with triumph. Yet his eyes narrowed at your considerably more loose tie but let it slide as he saw the rest of you were the same. The lid made a small pop as he opened it and he started to glide it over his fingers.

Of course, you had noticed something he hadn't. It was a little hard to miss, the restricted cock that was begging to be released from his dress pants. His brows raised when you leaned forward, his head tilting before he let out a small laugh when your fingers tugged away his belt. The palm of your hand rubbed against his firm tent before you pushed down his pants, freeing him to his relief.

“Lay back.” Elias always was the one to be a selfless lover, yet you did what he instructed and lay back once again on the couch. Lubricant covered his fingers as he lift them up, his eyebrows wiggling as it ran down his hands slowly. The couch squeaked a little as he knelt down on it, his pants kicked off behind him. Elias tossed the bottle on the coffee table next to you, right next to your beret, and grabbed your leg. He lift your leg over his shoulder and slowly started to prod his fingers at your entrance. His eyes looked up at yours, looking for any discomfort before they flashed down and he slowly entered his two fingers.

He started a casual pace of fucking you with his fingers, curving them inside of you. An action that caused you to shiver out and moan as he brushed against your g-spot. “Whatever you do Elias…” Your eyes were shut when he retreated his fingers, grabbing both your beret and the lube with his dry hand. The hat was placed on his head and he coated his cock with lube. Your eyes snapped open as his cock rest against your sex. “Don’t get fucking lube on my uniform.” He chuckled and continued to push in. “It's silicon-based, it will be a bitch to get out and I don’t want to explain why I need a new uniform.” Your voice trailed off into high pitched whine as his hips met yours. Elias stood there for a moment and pulled off his black shirt and you made sure to pull your own white one up, making sure the fabric wasn’t going to be in the way.

Elias smiled as he took in your dishevelled form, there was something about the iron shirt all crumpled, the deep green jacket messily undone, the tie loose around your neck. Something about it all added to the appreciation of you, something that made his dick twitch. He leaned over you, his hand reached for your white shirt but was prompt slapped away by your hand, glare on your face. He stayed there for a moment as he tried to figure out why, his eyes squinting. When he looked down at his hand he could still very much see the residue of lube coating it and he let out an ‘ah’. He nodded and you rolled your eyes before slowly undoing your white dress shirt, your chest on display for him.

A wink was sent your way, approval on his face. He adjusted his angle a little, almost completely removing himself from you. Then he slammed back in. The pair of you moaned out together, a chorus of words as he started a furious pace. His right on your leg was hard and he used it as an anchor to fuck you. A relaxed expression consumed his face while his hips rolled into you, the angle hitting that perfect sweet spot inside of you.

A long drawn-out curse left his lips and his head tilted forward, the beret falling off his head and onto your bare chest. The sound of it had his head snap up and this tongue poked out between his lips as he looked down at it. With a hard thrust of his hips into you, he leaned over and picked it up with his dry hand before placing it on your head. Not that it would spend very long on there, his resumed pace rocking your body, forcing it to lose its spot.

Elias found the loose tie around your neck, wrapping one hand around it he tugged you slightly forward, just enough so that as he bent over you, your lips were close enough for him to plant his own against. The kiss was open-mouthed and his tongue entered your mouth, dancing with your own. A whine left your lips and he parted from you slightly, keeping up the pleasurable pace. Your head tilted back, slightly suspended by his hold on your tie. “Fuuuuck please, just- ugh please.” You babbled out, and the wire inside of you became tense. Elias nipped your exposed neck, slamming inside of you and snapping that wire.

A loud shout left your lips, your eyes watering slightly as you quivered down on the man, pleasure consuming your body as you shook. Your lover continued to pound into you, not stopping his movements when he finally reached his own end, cum pumping into you as he slammed into your body. Slowly, his pace started to finish and he pulled himself from you, a satisfied smile consuming his face as he licked his lips. The grip on your tie loosened and he lowered you back down onto the couch. “I thought you looked nice before, mm-mm I must say right now you look so delicious.” His eye roamed your body as he sat down on the couch, his seed slowly seeping out of you. “If I could encapture this moment forever I would.” He continued to stare.

“Take a picture, it will last longer.” His eyes widened with glee at your joke, taken as a suggestion.

“May I?”

#r6s #rainbow six siege #r6s x reader #blitz x reader #elias kötz

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sullustangin · 1 year

Text

Fluffy February Day 16: Glow

Fandom: SWTOR

Time: 25 ATC/26 ATC (early days of their post-nathema marriage)

Pairing: Theron Shan/Smuggler

Rating: T+....it’s a little spicy

Words: 872

The tingles of euphoria were still flowing through her as Eva got out of bed. Her bare feet didn’t take her far. She grabbed the taper off the table and extended up to the nearest lamp. Eva tossed her loose hair over her shoulder to get it out of the way. She heard a pleased hum from the bed she’d just left.

Once the taper had kindled, she used it to light fresh incense, keeping the heady atmosphere going. In the dark, the gentle glow of the festival lamps and fireflies barely lit the balcony, but it was enough. Eva looked over at Theron, sprawled out. “You look utterly debauched.”

“Says the one wearing a dancing girl’s belt.” Theron stretched his arms over his head and then flexed for her. “And only that.”

A well-timed clinking from the belt as Eva finished her task made both of them laugh. She felt the heat of his gaze on her as her body moved. Eva dunked the taper in a flask of water, set purposefully there for the task. “Still more than you. Shouldn’t you be suffering from some sort of spy panic about being… so exposed?” she teased him.

“If half of what you’ve said tonight is true, then they’re not looking at my face,” Theron shot back, sharp and sweet in the same breath. Eva giggled. He smirked as he continued, “Let’s just say the Chiss Ascendancy got some rather nice counter-surveillance equipment in exchange for my silence and confidence on a number of matters. I still owe them… but they really owe me.” He ran a hand through hair, the shots of silver in it catching the light. “And I’ve made sure we’ll be... undisturbed this evening.”

Eva made a stop at the low table that was laden with foodstuff and alcohol. “Told you that Copero wasn’t a bad idea.”

“Didn’t pay much attention to the scenery or culture the first time through,” Theron admitted, briskly. “But… yeah, this little weekend away from Odessen is nice. And we are getting work done. Otherwise, I’d be a real killjoy.”

Eva turned to give him a chiding look, and he responded with that lopsided smile of his. “Breath of Heaven?” she asked as she held up the bottle.

“Fits the occasion. And the company,” Theron replied lightly as he sat up.

When Eva approached the edge of the bed and extended her arm to offer a cup to Theron, he took an inordinately long time to ogle her before taking his cup from her. Then his free fingers reached to trace the skin just below the pretty belt about her waist. “You’re certainly something beyond what this mortal deserves.”

By the time their cups were empty, the still-burning incense had made a cloud about their balcony, the glow of lanterns casting unworldly shadows across them. The fireflies lazily bobbed around the perimeter. “Copero has redeemed itself, I think,” Eva said as she put her cup to the side and laid back in bed.

Theron’s lips curved upward. “Is this the start of some redemptive tour of the galaxy? Every awful place we’ve visited, we ‘do over’?”

“Well, some place are objectively just awful – “

Then in unison, “Tatooine,” and they laughed, low in the night.

“Taris,” she said.

“Balmorra.”

“Ord Mantell, no matter what Corso says.”

“Umbara,” he added, then he wore some wounded expression at his own mention of it.

“Ziost” was whispered. “But…other places would have been beautiful or at least fun if… we weren’t fighting a war across them.”

“Like Katalla. You should get that casino win you deserve out there.”

“And then you can ravish me in the conservatory. Rishi – I technically still own it.”

“Manaan. I haven’t run the swoop track there in years.”

A long pause.

“I’d… like to take you to Corellia,” Theron finally said. “I grew up there. Or at least, I made the transition from Jedi to … me.” Then he added, “They’ve been rebuilding – going there to support the reconstruction wouldn’t be the worst way to spend credits.”

Eva shifted slightly to let her skin touch his. “Your father did extend an invitation out to Alderaan. And … I had a decent enough time there the first time, with Lenn and learning to dance… and falling out of a tree with Bowie.” She paused. “Your call though.”

“…we can make it work.” His fingers found her dark hair. “Have you ever been to Tython? Like, really been to Tython? Not just a drop off-or a flyover?”

“Is there something other than a bunch of little kids going on their class trips these days?” Eva asked honestly.

Theron chuckled. “It’s… not as busy as it used to be,” he conceded. “But I think a lot of the things worth seeing are still there, if you’re not afraid of a few nights of camping – no light pollution out there.”

Eva made a face. “…are you going to get… uptight? Because it’s Tython?” She tried to phrase her question as diplomatically as possible.

Theron’s expression turned mischievous, and then he muttered into her neck as he pressed up against her, “I thought that would be a selling point for you – because it’s Tython.”

Then they both laughed, as fingers got to tickling and teasing, and the conversation was discontinued entirely.

The lanterns burned out eventually, but the fireflies danced til dawn.

@fluffyfebruary @ayresis @starlightcleric @ermingarden @bluephoenix1347

#fluffy february #swtor #theron shan #theron shan x smuggler #copero #swtor fan fiction #oc: eva corolastor

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dapperstein · 1 year

Text

Hero Work Is Hard, Dating Is Harder

JBM x Reader :) enjoy :)

Using dating apps wasn't a new experience for you, nor a new part of your daily routine. It was a while ago when you realised you were getting lonely and wanted to try and find someone to bring into your life, and had downloaded a couple of apps to see which ones fit your style, and after a bit more time only one made the cut.

It had a simple user interface and perfectly customisable profiles, and most of it could be used for free, so you kept it. You made a couple of connections and met a couple of weirdos, but most everything had fallen through and you stopped using it for a while.

But now you were redownloading it and were ready for a fresh start and new people, and that's where and when you meet…

Jackie Boyman.

The profile was normal enough. Not too much information to process, mostly just the basics, and a few cute pictures of the man.

He had slightly long on top, curly brown hair with faded green ends. It fell in his eyes just so, just barely touching the top edge of his grey ombré glasses. A red turtleneck covered the bottom half of his face in the first picture, whereas in the others it was pulled down to reveal a thin, dark beard and moustache.

His eyes were a golden honey colour and he was making silly faces between the pictures.

The writing on the profile said he was 26 and was good with doing basically anything for a date. He talked about some of his hobbies (parkour and drawing as a combination seemed… interesting) and his job as a computer technician.

And best of all he lived nearby according to his location. Overall, he looked perfect.

You sent him a quick wave and upon realising you matched, sent a hello message and decided to get ready for the night.

You’d been planning to go to a local pub for no particular reason other than it was something to do and tonight was the night. Even if you didn’t drink anything, the atmosphere was always nice and you hadn’t been in a while.

As you slipped your top over your head about 20 minutes later (following a nice, warm shower) you heard a ding come from your phone and picked it up to a message from Jackie. A smile slipped onto your face.

7:48 pm

You > Jackie: Good eve sir :)

8:25 pm

Jackie > You: Oh, hello! I’m happy to see we matched; what drew you to the button?

You > Jackie: Good question you’ve got there, I’m really not sure! Your job and hobbies both seem interesting, I suppose! What about me?

Jackie > You: I’m not sure this makes sense but your vibes? I came across your profile some time ago and went, “Woah, you seem cool.”

Jackie > You: Haven’t stopped thinking about you since, even though it looked like you were inactive. Thought I’d lost my chance lol

Heat rose into your face and you had to put your phone down to finish getting dressed until you got outside and pulled it back out.

The air was almost cool enough for gloves so you had a pair in your pocket, but otherwise were just wearing a warm jacket over your normal clothes with no extra layers.

A new text from Jackie lit up your screen through the darkness.

Jackie > You: If it’s not too early (or late), would you want to meet tonight, maybe?

You > Jackie: I’m already on my way to a nearby pub for a couple of drinks, I’ll give you the address and you can meet me there :)

Shit, you’d only just started talking and didn’t even have proof he was the man he said he was. What if it was too good to be true? Were you really ready to meet him already? You’d already sent the message-

Jackie > You: Sure, I’ll give you my number so we can video call. Hang on, I’ve got to find where I’ve written it down…

A laugh escaped you as you walked down the street. So that problem was settled. He sent his phone number less than a minute later and you breathed out a cold breath as you clicked it to call him.

His face popped up another few seconds later, lit up from directly in front of him until he backed away from the camera and did a spin.

“Well? Like what you see?” He posed and laughed at the same time you did. “Sorry, that was cringy.”

“Just a little,” you continued laughing. He was cute so far. He was only wearing a red cropped tank top and a pair of black skinny jeans. His hips were curvy but the jeans sat nicely on them and his stomach and waist weren’t too small, probably from his parkour hobby. “What’s with the tank top? Kind of cold, isn’t it?”

Jackie tilted his head and looked down at himself. “Oh, this? It’s called a binder. I’ll explain more when we meet, it’d be a ton easier! I have a shirt to wear over it, though, don’t worry!”

You nodded and breathed out a puff of air. “All right, so I’m going to Randy’s, I’m not sure if you know it but I can help if you get lost now.”

His face lit up. “Oh, I know Randy’s. He and I are old friends, and it’s right near my place, too!” He smiled and leaned out of frame to grab something, coming back with a big, white sweatshirt in his hands that he easily put over his head. He combed his hair out with his fingers and put his glasses on. “Cool, meet you there in, like, 10 minutes?”

“It’s a date," you told him as you walked into the pub.

=some time later=

You were just finishing your first drink when the door to the pub opened. The place had been quiet thus far with only a few older couples sitting around for middle-of-the-week dates (how cute!) so you immediately turned around to see who had come in.

Jackie had hung up the call a couple of minutes after you arrived so he could “get there quicker”—his words—and now here he was, standing just a bit away from you.

He looked around and caught your eye, smiling widely and approaching, seemingly out of breath.

"Hey! Wow, what luck that we live so close to one another, huh?" You introduced yourself and motioned for him to sit across from you, sliding him the drink you'd surprise ordered for him.

"I'm actually just visiting right now, but I think I might stay longer! I move around and travel… a lot." He took a sip of the drink and his eyes blew wide. "Holy shit! There'd better be more dates so you can order this for me again!"

"I think we can manage that seeing how tonight's already going." You took a second to look around while he kept at his drink. “Somehow this all still feels too good to be true. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

Jackie chewed on his straw for a second, hoping to catch your eyes but it seemed like you were avoiding him now. "I can assure you you’re not. What makes you say that, though?”

“Ugh, I have no idea. Maybe it’s the interests, no guy is really that varied, you feel fake.” You glanced back to see him smiling around his straw. “What?”

“Nothing; nothing, I just like to keep busy. Tonight was the first night I’ve had off in a while, to be honest. Do you want a couple more fun facts about me?”

Couldn’t hurt. You turned and smiled back. “Sure, go for it.”

“Right, well, I’m transgender, hence the binder. The drawing I do is actually graffiti, and the whole parkour thing is my second job.”

“Second job? Are you an instructor?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want anybody to even attempt to do what I do!” He paused to take another swig of his drink and sighed. “But enough about that, I want to know more about you now.”

Despite your growing curiosity, you gave in. If this was a dream, Jackie was a damn good piece from your imagination. But then again, brains can only show you faces they’ve seen before…

An hour later you were paying for your drinks and getting ready to leave. You could see Jackie shivering even with his thick, white, wool sweater on, but figured since he didn’t live far that you would just walk him home and hope he could find something warmer (and take the damn binder off—he told you he’d already been wearing it way past the safe limit).

As it turns out, his place is much more than the 10 minutes he’d claimed it would take him when you were first meeting. In fact, it was almost double, yet he still made it within the time he’d set. What did he do, fly?

He lived in a small building on the third floor and you walked him right into his home when invited. Immediately he took off his sweater and walked into a room down the hall, leaving you to fend for yourself. You looked around, but the place seemed pretty normal, if not a bit quirky.

There were shelves upon shelves of comic books, graphic novels, random knick-knacks and hero memorabilia, a tattered grey couch against a wall of framed fanart portraits of a superhero--a superhero you felt like you recognised but didn't at the same time--and the small, boxy television he had was sitting on top of crates filled with CDs and DVDs, a clunky old radio beside it.

A door down the hall closed and you turned back around from looking at the pieces of fanart, most of which looked like they'd been drawn by a child. Jackie smiled as he walked over wearing a pair of blue pyjama bottoms and an oversized red t-shirt.

"It was nice of you to walk home with me." He took one of his hands out of his pocket and looked at a watch he wasn't wearing before. "Oh, it's quite late, sorry about that. Did you want to… stay over, or something? I have extra blankets and snacks and the couch folds out into a bed-"

You nodded, effectively cutting him off. "That would be great, thanks."

Jackie took a big breath. "Okay, I'll fix the bed for you if you want to look in my clothes drawers. They're in the big, white chest as soon as you go in my room, second door on the left."

You nodded again, feeling slightly awkward, but, hey, he was just being nice and… you strangely felt like you could trust him with your life, even though he hadn't done anything to prove that. "Thanks," you said again, walking off to find something to change into.

Soon you were in a pair of grey drawstring sweatpants and a matching t-shirt; not much to it but it was comfortable. The pull-out bed was ready by the time you went back out to Jackie and now there was just a small lamp on in the corner, but Jackie was nowhere to be seen until you heard him yawn from the kitchen.

He suddenly came out with a glass of some sort of hot drink, taking a big gulp of it before he noticed you. He pointed at the bed, covered with about a dozen blankets, then started walking past you back to his bedroom.

"Well, this was a lot of fun. I hope you have a good night out here. Feel free to come and get me if you need anything, and I mean anything. I'm happy to help out." He smiled and waited until you sat and fixed the bed to your liking before turning off the hallway light and leaving you with just the lamp that you decided to keep on.

Sleepiness was steadily overtaking you and you figured it was time to just lie down and go to sleep in comfortable silence.

Despite how comfortable the bed was, you still woke up to footsteps a few feet away from you. You opened your eyes slightly, just to see if you could see anything in the lamplight.

"Jackie…?" you called, making him turn around. "Where are you going?"

He stopped in his tracks the moment his hand hit the front door knob. "Just gotta hop outside for a moment. I didn't mean to wake you. Please, try to get back to sleep."

You couldn't argue. Though you had many questions, sleepiness can be hard to fight. You lay back down and the next time you woke it was bright out the windows.

Nothing that had happened was a dream considering you were still here in this strange place.

You accepted your fate and sat up in the couch bed, then cleared your eyes before gathering your clothes from the night before and heading to the bathroom. The house was quiet but the birds outside were merciless as you walked around, hoping for any sign of life from your date. You didn’t recall him even coming back in and were starting to get worried.

Before long while, as you sat there on your phone, the front door opened again and Jackie walked in, stretching his arms high above his head.

He was wearing a familiar outfit, one you’d seen the local vigilante in several times around town—and the same one the hero in all the fanart on the wall was wearing—and you only recognised it as Jackie because the eye mask he usually wore was instead in a bunch in his hand.

When he pulled his arms down you could see how surprised he was to see you still here, though now looking even more confused and curious than you had been. He sighed, “Give me a second to change and I’ll answer everything you want to know.”

You could see a cut on his forehead that wasn’t there before, already looking like it was closing over. “If anything I just want to know that you’re okay.” You stood up and approached, feeling at the cut which he didn’t even respond to other than looking away with shame. “You’re a superhero?”

Jackie took a deep breath and sat on the floor. “Yeah, I know that’s gotta be a lot of information for you process but all I want is to find happiness, too. I’m sorry if that’s too much for you to deal with.”

Shock and sadness rippled through you at his words. “What? No, it’s not. It’s your life, you can choose how you live it so long as you do so safely.” Jackie kept his head down in shame and you could see tears dripping from his eyes as you dropped down in front of him to give him a long hug.

The two of you sat there for what felt like hours, and if it really was that long then you weren’t mad, until Jackie finally broke free. “Well, that’s not how I expected my first date with you to go,” he admitted quietly, a lighthearted joke amongst his tears. “I’m… happy, that you can accept this part of me.”

A small smile crawled onto his face. “Do you want breakfast? My treat,” he offered. “Then I can tell you all the cool shit I do as a superhero!”

“I’d like that a lot,” you smiled back, pulling yourselves to your feet to sit in the kitchen.

#jackieboy man x reader #jackieboyman x reader #jse ego x reader #dapperstein writes

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