#i gave him long hair to make up for the terrible head shape

[briefalpacashark]

~Cowboys and Men~ Part One ~

Synopsis : The 141 have to play cowboys.

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You sat along with the other boys of the 141 as you stared at Laswell. She had just delivered the news of your next mission.

“Well shit,” you grin widely. Why? The mission was right up your alley. You had personal experience practically having grown up in the thick of it. The boys, however. You were almost certain that none of them had even come close to anything like it.

The mission. Going undercover in an American rodeo. 

“So you want us to play cowboy?” Price asked.

“That’s right. Long enough till you find this guy and bring him in,” she stated tapping her knuckle on a photo of the target. An older man with a grim surrounded by gray hair and a killer mustache.

“Y/N you'll be the one participating in the rodeo. The boys will be your team,” Laswell explained simply. 

“Her team?” Jonny asked, jabbing his thumb at you. “Why can't I be the horse rider huh?” he asked.

“Can you ride a horse?” Laswell asked.

“Well no, canne be hard, can it?” his question had you chuckling.

“Its an invite only event, we've got a contact. You'll head out tomorrow to show him what you got. He'll slot you in where he can,” Laswell focused on you as she spoke.

“Sure thing boss,” you nodded.

“Honestly Laswell, I think I could do a pretty good job,” Jonny stated.

“The fact that you think a rodeo only involves horses proves how unqualified you are for it,” You stated.

“And you are?” Jonny asked.

“I grew up in the saddle of a horse, mate. You're looking at a genuine drover,” you gestured to your body with a smirk.

“The fuck is a drover?” Jonny asked the rest of the team. Gaz simply shrugged.

“Alright dismissed,” Laswell said. 

You were quickly dispatched to the good old US of A. You were dropped off in a random field via helicopter. Your team walked up to two men on horseback. The one on the left was tall and buff with golden hair to die for. The other was slightly shorter and stubbier. But they both had one thing in common. They looked like genuine cowboys. Hats and everything.

“Howdy!” Jonny called with a terrible American accent.

“Fucken hell,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Forgive him. He's hit his head a few too many times,” Price stated.

“That stunt his growth too?” The blond asked. Your laugh broke through your lips as Jonny’s smile fell.

“The one you just shut up is Soap, that's Gaz, Ghost. I’m Bravo and that’s Doc.” he pointed you all out the cowboys, tipping their hat’s to you.

“Ma’am, I heard you're the only one with experience in the saddle,” the smile the blond gave you was slightly flirtatious.

“Since I was two. Grew up on a cattle station over in Australia,” You stated walking up to him to give them both a firm handshake.

“How could you choose the military life over one in the saddle?” he asked.

“Plan to get back to it one day,” you said your attention being grabbed by his horse that tried to nibble your jacket.

“He's gorgeous. Mustang?” You asked, reaching up to brush his nose.

“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded. “Care for a ride?” he asked with a wink. You chuckled at his obvious flirting attempt.

“Sorry mate. Not planning in hoping in any saddle that aint my own,” you said, giving the horse a pat.  

“Alright, well, this is Sam, my name's Aurthur,” he stated.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Price stated spoke up drawing the attention off you. 

“Pleasures all ours, Come on by the looks of you, it seems like we've got some work to do,” he stated.

“Work of what?” Gaz asked.

“To make you a lot cowboys,” he said with a grin.

First order of business, if you were to pass for cowboys, you had to look the part. Aurthur generously offered to take you all shopping. Your choice was quick, picked out for practicality. A simple light blue button up. A pair of denim jeans, a comfortable pair of boots and your old hat. You pulled the beat up looking thing out of your bag. It was your simple cattleman hat shape, in a dusty brown colour. It was scuffed and dirty, but it was yours. Setting it atop your head, you smiled at the familiar feeling. Slipping on the dark leather jacket, you fixed the collar before stepping out of the changing room.

“Look out,” Jonny stated from their allocated seats, all gathered in front of the changing rooms.

“So how do I look?” You asked, giving them a little pose.

“Like one hell of a rider,” Aurthur spoke up.

“So so,” Gaz tilted his hand back and forth.

“Oh yeah, let's see you do better,” you said tauntingly.

“Watch a master at work,” Gaz stated. You all waited for his outfit choice. When he stepped out you almost died of laughter. Tassels, tassels and fringe everywhere. On his head sat a bright red Tom Mix hat.

“What you don't think it's good?” he asked jokingly. 

“You look like you'll fly away in a light breeze,” Jonny joked.

“Eat shit soap,” Gaz flipped him off.

“Nah, I'll show you how it's done,” Jonny spoke up. Yells of shock sounded from you all as he walked out in a pair of assless chaps. Only they weren't assless. In fact you saw a lot of ass due to the fact that Jonny only wore the chaps. Nothing else. He held a small bowler's hat in front of his privates as he pretended to act confused. He turned around, giving you a clear view of his rosy red cheeks.

“Fucken hell,” you chuckled, tipping your hat down to cover your gaze.

“You know, I don't think I put these on in the right order,” he stated. Even the Price cracked a chuckle or two.

“Might get a rash ridding a saddle like that,” Ghost stated.

“I like it,” you said. Jonny gave you a wink.

“Come on Captain,” Jonny encouraged Price when his ass was contained again. 

Price walked out in a good pairing. A deep red button up, a pair of jeans, some lovely light brown boots, a light brown fleece jacket and a white brick shaped hat. 

“Captain my captain,” You whistled.

“Where did you find that fashion sense cap?” Ghost asked.

“Quiet you,” Price warned playfully.

“You know those videos where a baby sees their dad with their beard shaved for the first time and they just break out crying,” You asked. Jonny hummed in acknowledgment.

“I feel like that with that hat he's wearing,” you whispered. Jonny chuckled.

“Alright Ghost your turn,” Jonny said slapping Ghost shoulder. Ghost slowly moved his eyes from the captain to Jonny daring him to hit him again.

“Alright, be that way grumpy,” Jonny muttered. “Guess it's my turn again,” he stated. With your help, Jonny walked out in a tight black long sleeve shirt, a denim jacket and jeans. Black boots and a brown rolled brim with a puncher crown. He looked alright apart from the obviously large belt buckle he wore. A picture of a bulls head engraved on it.

“Compensating?” you asked, nodding to the buckle, getting a bird flipped to you.

“At least his ass is covered this time,” Ghost grumbled. Gaz tried again, deciding on a cowboy version of a lumberjack. Plated shirt with a vest jacket, a dark blue pair of jenes and a black version of his original hat. 

“Careful Gaz, that shirt looks a little tight,” Jonny called.

“That's the point,” Gaz stated with a smirk flexing his biceps.

“They can try all they want. The look of a cowboy is something that comes naturally. A look, ma’am that if you'll let me say looks extremely good on you,” Arthur leaned down to whisper to you. You smirked, shrugging.

“I don't know, I think they're pulling it off,” you stated. You chuckled as Gaz tried to perform his best cowboy walk. Hand on his belt and slaughtering forward before making a gun motion with his hand. And Jonny, who pretended to slow motion, to doge said bullets.

“Yeah sure,” Arthur muttered, making you chuckle harder. As you continued to watch Gaz and Jonny make a fool of themselves, you failed to notice a certain pair of eyes set on you. 

“Careful Lieutenant, you glare any harder and he might just get the message,” Price smirked as he saw the slightly pissed expression hidden behind the skull mask.

“Don't know what you mean, sir,” Ghost grumbled before walking away. 

Noticing Ghost's missing presence, you went to look for him, finding him in front of the many hats on display.

“Having trouble choosing?” You asked, walking up to him.

“Any pointers?” he asked.

“Can't help you there. This was my uncle's hat. He lost it when I won a bet,” you said.

“But,” you trailed off, your eyes searching through the hats. You smiled, reaching out to grab one.

“Yeah, this one,” you said, placing it on his head. It was low and pinched a grayish black.

“Yeah, that suits you,” you stated simply with a satisfied nod before walking away. 

When you all returned to the ranch, Simon changed into his outfit. Black jeans, dark brown boots, a black leather jacket and dark grey button up. On his head sat the hat you chose, and he still wore his skull balaclava.

“Well hello handsome,” Jonny called as he walked out to you.

“Zip it Mc’tavish,” he grumbled. Jonny chuckled as he walked up to you. In the pen Arthur walked out a horse already saddled up. Spotting other ranchers gathering round to watch with eager grins, you quickly assessed what was happening. It was a bucking horse, or at least one they were trying to break.

“Alright, lesson one of being a cowboy. Staying on a horse that doesn't want you to stay on,” Arthur stated with a wide grin.

“Any volunteers?” he asked. You chuckled, shaking your head as Jonny raised his hand eagerly.

“Love the spirit scots, man. This here is Bessy,” Arthur said, gesturing him forward. You whipped your mouth as Jonny confidently made his way into the pen.

“Ello Bessy,” he smirked. 

“I'd say goodbye to your balls now Soap, while you have the chance,” you called out to him.

“Ah, away with ye. I'll be fine,” Jonny waved you off.

“He's gonna eat shit isn't he?” Ghost asked folding his arms over his chest.

“All five courses of it,” you chuckled, pulling yourself up to sit on the railings. 

“He has medical cover right?” you asked Price that only shock his head at his soldier stupidity.

“Alright Soap. hold on tight,” After Arthur gave him a basic run down and when Jonny was sat comfortable in the saddle did he stepped back.

“You're gonna set a timer, wanna make sure there is proof when I stay on longer than those bastards,” Jonny nodded back to you all, giving you a wide confident grin as the horse started to pad at the ground.

“Sure thing, champ,” Arthur grinned. “Go on, give her a kick,” he suggested casually, taking a few cautious steps back. 

“What like this?” Jonny asked, kicking his heels gently into her sides. 

You knew pigs couldn't fly, but Jonny sure could. One buck had the poor man was out of the saddle onto the horses ass, then the second buck had the man cartwheeling through the air before landing flat on his ass his legs split in front of him. You and Gaz was practically dying of laughter as Jonny rolled around in pain holding his manly jewels. After Jonny’s poor first display, the ranchers started to pass around bets. 

“Who's next?” Arthur asked, turning to you lot.

Gaz sat on the back of Bessy looking like he was about to shit himself.

“Ok what do I do?” he asked shakily.

“Hold on,” Arthur stated simply.

“I know that, but I don't know the first thing about horses. Do do I pat it?” he asked.

“Sure, it probably won't do you any good though,” Arthur shrugged walking back.

“Come on Gaz,” you called encouragingly.

“I changed my mind, I want to get down,” Gaz stated. As he shifted his weight in the saddle, Bessy fell into a fit. Bucking and kicking like crazy. Gaz lasted about four seconds before he was bucked off. 

“This is bullshit,” Gaz grumbled, limping back to you trying to remove the dirt from his mouth. 

“Are the betting on us?” Jonny asked nodding to the growing group.

“There ranchers, this is probably the best entertainment they've had all week,” you stated.

“Yeah well they should stop,” Gaz grumbled.

“Why? They're actually betting in your favor,” you lied.

“Really?” he asked with a small grin of hope.

“No,” you chuckled, shaking your head, Gaz's smile instantly falling.

“Your acting way too high and mighty or this,” Gaz stated.

“I think I'm acting the right amount of high and mighty for my skills,” You shrugged.

“Skills we haven't seen yet,” Gaz grumbled.

“I don't need to prove anything,” you shrugged.

“Well, if ye so confident in yourself lass. How bout a wee little bet?” Jonny asked.

“Depends on what it is,” you smirked. With the smirk Jonny already knew you accepted the bet. 

“If anyone of us can last longer than you, you owe us all a week of sick leave,” Jonny put the offer forward. In the military you need a doctor's note or your medic's permission to have a sick day. Which was practically impossible to get. You don't abuse your power but you didn't put up with their bullshit either. So they only ever got sick leave when they were actually sick. And not a man cold either, they had to actually be sick.

“And what do I get?” you asked.

“Bragging rights?” Jonny suggested.

“I'll settle for a picture of you in the outfit you rocked back at the shop,” you stated, pointing to him. Jonny grinned widely.

“Deal,” he said as you too shook on it. 

“You ready, boss?” Jonny asked, turning to Price.

“A week of sick leave, you said?” he asked, debating if he wanted to be a part of your shenanigans.

“Yes sir,” you nodded. 

“Right,” he muttered, pushing his hat further down on his head before slipping in the coral and shaking his jacket off his shoulders.

You had to give it to Price, he was pretty good. And he looked like he stepped right out of a cow boy movie. The mustache and the fit was just perfect. You sucked in a breath as he was thrown from the horse. Impressed cheers came from the others. He lasted almost ten seconds.

“Ghost?” Jonny suggested.

“I prefer to keep my balls unpopped,” Ghost grumbled.

“Guess that's me then,” You spoke up. Walking up to Bessy you smiled brushing her nose before walking round her to where Arthur stood.

“Need a hand?” he offered.

“Nah mate,” you said effortlessly, swinging yourself up onto the saddle and taking the reins in hand. The familiar creak of the leather saddle and the ruff feel of the reins was welcoming. You settled into the back of the saddle, leaning back slightly. You pressed your hat down far enough down your forehead that the only thing you saw was your hands and the horse's shoulder blades.

“Alright, lets fucking do this,” you whispered before gently kicking her. You leaned back as far as you could and pulled the reins tight as she bucked wildly. Your body was jerked about left and right back and forth, yet you held on. The boys had to admit they were impressed. The ranchers cheered as the seconds drew on. As you hit the thirty second mark you swore as the horse slammed up against the side of the railings. To avoid you leg getting crushed you lumped off, the force sending you flying over the fence, right into Arthur who just happened to be sitting stop it. The two of you hit the ground in a cloud of dust. A relatively soft fall for you due to you landing on the cowboy.

“Fuck you alright?” You asked as you quickly hopped off the poor man.

“Look at that, falling for you already,” he groaned, painfully accepting your hand to help him up.

“That line usually work?” you asked with a small smile. You had to admit he was kinda cute.

“Well I don't usually have pretty women tackling me off the fence but here we are,” he said. You chuckled, shaking your head picking up your hat.

“How long was that Jonny!?” You yelled across the coral.

“Too fucking long!” he yelled back. You grinned smugly making your way back over to the boys.

Gaz and Jonny were adamant on getting those sick days. Price opted in for a few more tries, coming only four seconds from your record before he called it quits.

“Not gonna have a go Ghost?” you asked nudging his side.

“Risk getting hurt before the mission, not likely,” he stated as you watched Jonny narrowly avoid a broken bone. 

“Fair enough,” you muttered. The boys could not beat your best. With bruised bodies and prides you all retired to your a few spar rooms in the bunkhouse.

The next morning, you all gathered before dawn. Arthur said you were gonna learn how to ride. The boys walking a bit slower than they usually would. You were all assigned horses. Ghost and Price and Gaz were going well after some instruction. And Jonny. Well let's just say he wasn't built to ride horses. He just couldn't wrap his head around it. Loud laughs sounded as the horse started to trot slightly, sending your little scotsman's bouncing rapidly in his saddle.

“Fu-Uck En H-EL-LL,” he said through bounces as his head bobbled around. You rode up to him gently pulling on the rains to get the horse to slow down.

“Come on Mate. your ancestors road these guys into battle,” You said.

“Nah, these are American horses. If it was a scottish horse I would be grand,” he stated definitely. Amused by his logic, you just shook your head. To your surprise, Simon pulled up on the other side of Jonny. “Having a bit of trouble there?” Ghost asked smuggle. “Fuck Ye LT,” Jonny grunted, trying to glare only for him to slid sideways in the saddle. You reached out holding his jacket to keep him steady as he readjusted. Ghost smirked before trotting forward. You rode up to his side looking over his posture, one hand resting on his thigh, the other holding both the reins. 

“You’ve done this before,” you stated.

“When I was a kid,” he muttered.

“It shows, You're a natural,” you said.

“Not as good as you,” he said.

“Oh stop it, you'll make me blush,” you grinned. He glanced over at your smile, grunting in response.

“So this is your dream, huh?” he asked. Your grin turned into a fond smile.

“Yeah. I want a nice plot of land in the tablelands,” you stated.

“Table lands?” Ghost asked.

“I'll admit you guys have some nice green pastures in England. But the tablelands. Man, it's something different altogether. Rolling green hills right out of a picture book. It's high up, lots of rain, and rainforests. Fog will roll over the hills in the cold mornings and arvos. I'll have five horses, shit ton of chickens and cows. Maybe a goat or two,” your shrugged. “Two dogs. One working kelpie and and little staffy,” you continued.

“A big old cottage that I built myself. Oh, it's gotta have a basement. Definitely a secret passage. Maybe a fake skeleton chucked in there.” your words had Simon smiling as his eyes settled on you. Settled on the sparkle of your eyes as you described it all.

“Oh and there will be this big ol tree. If I have a family I'll string it up with fairy lights and lanterns. I'll invite you boys round for week long adventures. Big ol fire place next to it,” you reminisce of a life that you possibly might never get to live. After all, your job wasn't necessarily safe.

“Oh so I’m a part of this future huh?” he asked. The instant your gaze turned to him he realized what he said. His face flushed as your smile became impossibly brighter.

“Of course,” you stated simply. Only when you did think of all those things you left out one key part. Whenever you thought about your future, the annoying prick in front of you would pop into the frame. Helping you build the cottage. Putting one of his masks on the fake skeletons. Him in the tree hanging up the lights. Him sitting next to you around the roaring fire. Clearing his throat his face flushed deeply as he looked back to the path in front of you. You didn't see the flush though. You simply saw him avoiding your gaze. For a moment, he wondered if he was having a heart attack. He thought it was the only explanation for his rapid heartbeat.

“Were going for a run care to join?” Arthur called back to you.

“Sure,” you called back. 

“So you ready to show me just how good you are?” You leaned over to Ghost with a taunting

“Perhaps,” he grunted.

“First one to the tree up on that ridge,” you suggested.

“Are we betting anything?” he asked.

“Bragging rights?” you shrugged. “On three?” you suggested.

“Alright, three,” he stated kicking his horse into a gallop. An excited grin stretched across your face as you did the same. The cantering group let out exclamations of surprise as you two zoomed past them in a full gallop. Even with his headstart you quickly caught up to him. Riding would forever feel different to everything in your life. It felt like flying, but so much more magical. As you were neck and neck you looked over to Ghost who looked to you. With a wink, you dropped the reins, opening your arms out as the horse pulled forward. You won by just an inch. 

The next day it was game time. You were strapped up and dressed up for your rodeo. You left a little earlier than the boys. You were hanging around beer in hand playing the part as Arthur introduced you to a few people. Chucking your watch you glanced at the time.

“They should be here by now,” you muttered.

“Speak of the devils,” Arthur muttered nodding behind you. A low whistle left your lips as you took them in.

As everyone took them in. Women, buckle bunnies and men had their eyes set on the group. They looked like a master piece of hot manliness. And you had to admit they looked good enough to have anyone's panties dropped with just a word. There boots kicking up dust as they strutted through the crowd. You swore the music was perfect of their entrance, looking like a scene out of a movie.

“Boys,” you nodded to them as they approached.

“Anna,” Price nodded to you. Your cover name for the mission.

“Come on, I've got to introduce you to someone,” Arthur stated beckoning you all over. You sucked in a small breath as he took you all to the target. 

“Tommy,” Arthur greeted the man like old friends.

“Arthur, how are you, my boy?” he asked. He was an older man, a true cowboy.

“Good Good,” Arthur nodded as they embraced.

“So you're the one Arthurs has been speaking about. You should know outsiders aren't usually welcome here,” the target stated as he turned to you.

“What scared of the challenge?” you asked with a teasing smile. The man paused a beat before breaking out into laughter.

“She's a spunk fire all right. Name’s Tom, everyone calls me Tommy,” he greeted holding his hand out to you.

“Anna,” you introduced yourself.

“Anna, you dont look like an Anna,” he said.

“Oh yeah, what do I look like?” you asked.

“Some real classy name. Like Evangeline or somethin,” he stated.

“Well, you certainly look like a Tommy,” you said.

“Why thank you ma’am,” he tipped his hat to you.

“And who are these fellas?” he asked turning to the boys.

“I'm her manager, Cole,” Price introduced himself. “These boys are on the team,” he stated, pointing to the rest who gave nods.

“I see, well fellas I'll see you out there,” he stated giving you another nod before walking off.

“So we grabbing him?” Jonny asked.

“To many people here,” Price mumbled.

“After the main event you'll have your chance, that's when he goes home,” Arthur said. You nodded, glancing around you. Fancy profession buckers were walking all round you. 

“Nervous Darling?” Arthur asked. The boys gaze snapped to him, some pissed of some surprised. The way American men say darling is just something different.

“I'm about to strap myself to a state of the art bucking horse. Of corse im fucking nervous,” you muttered.

“Don't worry. Come on, there are some other events before. Let's get you warmed up,” he stated. You needed to keep your mind occupied, so you agreed. Steer wrestling and roping was your go to. You didn't place first in anything but you didn't do too bad. The boys looked at you in a different light as you rode beside a young bull, jumping off your horse to wrestle it to the ground, flipping it over and tying its legs up. 

“God damn,” Jonny whispered as you stood to your feet holding your hands in the air.

“She's good, really good,” Arthur stated as he stood by the boys.

“That's our girl,” Price stated simply.

“So, what are you lot to her?” he asked.

“What?” Gaz asked squinting at the man.

“You lot seem real close. I know you're a team but I don't want to step on anyone's toes, I'm a gentle man like that,” he shrugged.

“What do you mean step on anyone's toes?” Price asked, his arms folding over his chest taking on the protective dad stance.

“Look if she's spoken for I'll back off. But I don't see no ring, and she calls you all by name. No pet names,” Arthur trailed off before turning to Ghost.

“So I guess im asking what are you to her,” the question was pointed at Ghost the boys quickly catching on. Ghost turned fully to him tucking his hand under his arm pits where his guns sat, hidden by his jacket. Although he made a point to let the smooth metal peek out.

“I'm the guy that fucks you up seven ways to Sunday if you hurt her,” his voice was deathly low, shaking Arthur up a bit. Yet it was Simon's glare that had the man really scared. 

But he also got the answer he wanted.

“So she's available?” Arthur pointed out with a grin.

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=Cowboys and Men = Part Two here=

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~COD Master List Here~

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#141 x reader #cod 141 #cod ghost #141 x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod

[chixkencxrry]

mi sol

Summary: You get a new job as a caretaker at a mysterious estate two towns over. The salary is good enough for you to ignore certain things -- at first. Soon enough you have no choice but to get away. Too bad you're in for life. (one-shot, plot with porn) Vampire! Yandere! Miguel O'Hara x Fem! Reader

Warnings: eventual SMUT, masturbation, p in v, pussy eating, somewhat YANDERE! MIGUEL, YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS ON YOU! NOT PROOFED

fanart by @yeagersatorubar (twt)

The email had come in the middle of the night.

It was from an unrecognizable source. An acceptance to something, some job you didn’t remember applying for. A caretaker job two towns over. You rubbed your eyes in the blue light glare of your rickety laptop, lips pursued as you read.

“When did I apply for this?”

Attached to the close of the email was a number and name. A woman named Lyla was the contact. The name of the property was Stone. You dialled the number. If the person was sending the email this late, you didn’t worry about your call waking them up. 

“Hello. You must be our new caretaker.”

You cleared your throat – taken aback. “I, uh, yes. I am. I hope it’s okay that I’m calling this late.”

The woman chuckled. “That’s fine! You’ll learn that we keep odd hours here.”

“Right,” did you really need the money that much? You eyed your room. It was pink, with posters half hanging. It had been your childhood room and you still occupied it. It made your mouth itch. You needed to leave. “When do you want me to start?”

Though as your taxi pulled up to the estate, you found yourself regretting it. Maybe regret was too strong a word. You found yourself reconsidering it. Had you done something terribly stupid by coming here? By packing your things and telling your parents they could fuck off?

It had taken four hours to get here, the sun had set and it was twilight now. Would it be too early to run back with your tail between your legs? Were you so weak that you had to give up? 

“That’ll be 50$.” the driver grunted, growing impatient with your slow movement.

You baulked and shoved the bill into his hand. Out of spite, you took your time to get your bags out – making sure you didn’t miss one. You could have sworn you heard him curse as he drove off. Rolling your eyes, you slid your phone out to get to your emails – Lyla had sent you the code to get in. Turning your flashlight on the keypad, you punched the code in and continued your trek up the property. It was a long walk that left you huffing. 

Once you met the great doors, you knocked the lion-faced knockers loudly a few times and waited. When you went to try for a second time, it pierced your skin, making you hiss. Your finger slipped into your mouth and you sucked. 

The door swung open to reveal a fashionable dress auburn-haired woman with heart-shaped sunglasses. She grinned at you. All sharp, white teeth. “Hello! Aren't you an earlier riser?”

You bristled. “Pardon?”

“Are these your bags?” She turned her head inside the mansion and whistled. “I’ll get Ben to bring them in.”

Lyla was the assistant of the owner of the house. A real recluse, she claimed. You didn’t mind. They had paid you a freaking signing bonus when you agreed. Who gave signing bonuses to caretakers? Dumb rich people. This guy could be a troll for all you cared. As long as each salary came with the flourish of that, you could never meet the man. 

“It's more of a managerial position really.” Lyla clarified after showing you the lion’s share of the house. “Ben takes care of the heavy lifting. Or Peter – he doesn’t show up much though, new father and all that.”

“We have cameras in the common areas. Bedrooms and baths are off limits of course. You’ll get access to them.”

“So, Mr. Stone just wants me to look after the place? Make sure it's clean and in order?”

Lyla stilled, causing you to bump into her. Her pale face twitched. “Mr. O’Hara. Don’t make that mistake again.”

“Sorry. It’s just the name of the estate –”

Lyla shook her head. “Don’t make that mistake again.”

“My bad.”

The tour continued on silently. Lyla stopped at the West Wing, where a portrait of a young family hung. They were dressed in regalia from at least three centuries ago. It was of two beautiful boys, a stately-looking woman and a cold-faced man. You shivered. You hoped the man was not Mr O’Hara.

“Don’t worry,” Lyla seemed to read your mind. Her pointer finger landed on the taller of the two boys. “That’s Mr O’Hara.”

You relaxed. Even though it was an old photo, the bright-eyed kid couldn’t be too different from the man who had just hired yourself out to. 

Right?

***

Miguel felt warm.

For the first time in a century, he felt the warmth of you in the walls of his prison. It was like feeling the sun again. Like tasting wine, luscious and dark. You were home. He hadn’t risen yet. His meal sat by his window, eyes glossed over with compulsion. Miguel didn’t want to see you without eating. It had been so long after all. So very long without your touch, the brush of your lips, the scent of your hair, the feel of your pussy.

He throbbed with want for you. 

Rising from his coffin, his talons fell. Piercing two holes in the side of his meal’s neck, Miguel made sure to drink his fill until it was cold and listless. His fangs, his fangs he would keep for you. 

It was funny how it started. He had run into you while on a hunt. Well, you hadn’t noticed of course. You had been on a date, smelling of want and looking like sin in red. He wasn’t worthy of you. But that man touched you and lips had planted on your skin – he was lucky Miguel hadn’t killed him right then and there. He had been too caught up in you. Looking at you. Seeing you. Flesh and fire before him. The curls of your hair, the flare of your hips, the drag of your voice and the thrill of your laughter.

That man did not deserve any of that.

All of that belonged to him. 

In the computer age, everything lay at his fingertips. He found you with ease. Found where you lived. Who you were now. Everything that the web of connections could provide. He knew what books you read, what songs you liked, your favourite bands and flower. 

He also knew you needed him. You were twenty-five and unemployed, living with your parents and your art wasn’t selling as you’d liked. How that desperation clung to you, how that desperation made you sweet to him. 

A gurgling sound distracted him. 

Sneering, he looked at his feet to see the meal had not totally died. Rolling his eyes, he tore the heart out of its chest and sucked the remaining blood. He cursed. 

Now he’d have to shower before seeing you. What a nuisance.

After cleaning off the blood, he watched the surveillance footage of Lyla giving you the door and waited until she’d left you alone like he’d asked to find you. He didn’t want an interloper. He wanted you alone to create a repertoire. 

Running his fingers through his hair, he checked his teeth in the mirror — all traces of blood were gone. His talons were retracted, fangs disappeared but his eyes were still red from feeding. Would that freak you? He didn’t want to change it.

Tapping his smartwatch, he ordered Lyla to bring him a pair of contacts. 

“Why? Won’t it just dissolve in a few hours?” 

“Because I said so.”

“Well, now I’m not gonna bring them on principle.”

Miguel snapped. “Lyla…please bring the goddamn contacts.”

“They’re already in your room, fearless creator. Vanity drawer to the left.”

Miguel switched the watch off. Carefully, he placed the contacts onto his eyes. They stung a little but he only needed it for a few hours. They would be long dissolved and by then his eyes would return to their true brown. 

You were beautiful in the kitchen. Hair tied up in a bun ontop of your head. Messy curls sweep to your forehead. Lips, pinked and plumb moving as you chewed. You seemed to try to make yourself seem smaller. Crouching over the plate of chicken salad Lyla had prepared for you. She couldn’t cook – his golem, but she tried. They had so few human guests these days after all.

Miguel cleared his throat, making you jolt and stare at him with big eyes. Your lashes fluttered, and you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and stood. “Oh, hello! You must be Mr. O’Hara.”

Your offered hand hung for a moment. He eyed it. Bare, delicate, your nails sharpened to a humanly acceptable point. He realised he’d been staring for longer than necessary and took it, glad he fed so his body warm. Your hand slipped in with ease. He gripped it and shook it, saying your name. “Call me Miguel. It’s nice to meet you. Lyla gave you the grounds tour?”

“Oh...no, she, uh, showed me the house and my quarters but not the grounds.” You titled your head, looking out the window. “I figured it was too dark out, no?”

Excellent. “We have very good lights. If you’re finished eating, I can give you the tour myself.”

“Yes! Definitely.” So eager. How promising.

***

Mr. O’Hara – no, Miguel, led you out by placing a hand on the small of your back. It was large and spanning and brushed against the rise of your ass before it fell to his side again and he resumed a respectable distance. He smelt of sandalwood and citrus. An oud wafted from him. This immaculately dressed older man with lines on his face creating dimension. He couldn’t be much older than you, but everything about him seemed grown whereas you seemed like a child playing dress up in adulthood. 

The grounds were massive. Three acres he’d said. There was a small rose garden that led out to a private lake. A family mausoleum that made you shutter when you passed it. Arched trees bent over the manicured green. The entire place was immaculate. 

What on earth did they need you for?

“Did the pass caretaker retire?”

Miguel shook his head. A small fence came into view. You saw dried-up shrubs and trees, barren spots and a small shed. “She passed.”

“My condolences,” you whispered softly, fingers brushing along his arm to comfort him briefly. “What is this?”

“It used to be a greenhouse.”

There was nothing green about the space. Clearing your throat, you let Miguel guide you back to the house. It was late now. You grew tired. So, very tired. “You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you.” His eyes peered curiously at her. She swore they flashed red but that may have been her weariness showing. “I hope you can be comfortable here.”

His gaze was intense. You found it difficult to look away – it caused a dizzying effect on you. Turning away, Miguel and you went back into the house and he escorted you to your quarters. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’m really excited to dig in.”

He smiled – all white teeth. “No. I’m pleased to have you here. You have no idea how much.”

When you finally closed your door you let out a slight squeal of excitement. Biting your lower lip, you traced your fingers along the door. You had not expected Mr. O’Hara to look like that. Sure, he was certainly a mature man. The lines on his face told you that he was at least mid-thirties and the way he carried himself like a grown man would. 

God. You didn’t know how you were going to make it out working with such a specimen. You could barely keep it together on the walk! Running your hand over your hair, you went to your laptop bag and pulled the small notebook out. You googled your new boss, disappointed to find nothing much. There was one link that had his name, a record from an archive three hundred years ago. When you clicked it, it bounced back. 

Frustrated, you closed it and decided to just go to bed. 

Weeks passed by, and a monolith of activity passed. You devoted your all to the house but particularly the greenhouse at the back of the property beside the lake. It became a passion project of yours. Lyla and Ben were helpful of course – they made sure that you got all the aid and materials you needed to realise your vision. 

You became closer to the other members of the house. Lyla was kind and a good guide for you. Miguel was something.

It was not that you had an extensive working history but you were quite sure the interest he seemed to pay to you and your tasks were a little extra attention. In some regard, it unnerved you. But in another, you liked the praise and appreciation you received for every task completed. You also didn’t mind being in close proximity to him. There was no denying that Miguel had become a crush of yours and the star of your private fantasies.

Look at him. All harsh angles and sharpness, but his actions, his words were rose petal soft. God. He was a delicious man.

Another thing that struck you as strange was the utter loneliness of the house when the sun was up. When they had called themselves nocturnal creatures, you had merely thought it meant that they slept very late or worked very late in the evening. You were wrong though – they were completely gone during the day. In the afternoons they rose, bright and colourful as your energy dwindled down. 

“Techies,” Lyla had explained. “We work best at night – what can we say!”

It felt like bullshit but the pay was too good for you to make it your business. By the beginning of your third month, you know the place like the back of your hand. Well – most of it but for the wing Lyla had warned you against. One particularly slow day temptation had gotten the better of you. Could your curiosity be blamed for your next act? You crept into the area, floorboard creaking as you looked. It was not a different hallway than the others. 

A painting sat at the edge – but it was too poorly lit for you to see from your end. Squinting, you walked closer. The painting held a tear. It was a woman no doubt, soft-featured but you only saw up to her lower lip on which sat a mole. Something pulled at you. 

You stretched forward, fingertips brushing the dried oil and hanging paper. Pushing it up to see the face, your breathe hitched at the sight. 

The hairs at the back of your neck stood up and your stomach turned. You ran back to the other half of the house, heart speeding in your chest to jump through your ribs. You closed your door – the feeling of your skin getting ready to crawl off your body not leaving. You rubbed your ribs beneath your bosom. 

Everything about that had felt wrong. 

Since you began working here – you hadn’t taken a weekend off. Packing your bag hurriedly, you made a call to your mother, placing her on speaker. It rang for only a few moments.

“Hello, little stranger.”

“Mom – I, I need to come home.”

The panic in your voice set her voice on edge. “Baby? Is everything alright at your job?”

“I just got a bad feeling, Mom. I just need to come home.”

“Okay. Call an Uber.” Logic was your mother’s failsafe in times of duress. 

You shook your head. Ubers didn’t get this far out. You would have to walk a mile into the town to order one or call a taxi. “No. They won’t come here. I’ll head to town and catch something.”

“Call me when you’re there. Okay?” Your mother cautioned. 

“Okay...I will.”

Packing your things took longer than anticipated. You looked at your watch – it was almost five. It usually got dark around six. Shouldering your haversack and duffel bag, you snuck out of the estate and made your walk down the winding road to the town. 

Your bags felt heavy and the road took forever. Eventually, you found a bus stop. It was just about twilight now. The blue sky became a warm orange. Warm day dying into a cool evening. 

You sighed, back hitting the seat of the bench. The app told you the next bus to town was coming in the next twelve minutes. You just needed one ride to the inner city and there you could easily get an Uber home. 

Closing your eyes, you felt relaxed for the first time in an hour. 

You were safe. You were going home. 

***

He knew you were missing the moment the sun had set. 

Miguel had stretched the entire expanse of the property – searching everywhere for you. All of your things were gone from your quarters. Even your dirty laundry was gone. It was still full of your scent. He dug his nose into the rumpled sheets. Lilac and Lily. His talons dug through them – he picked up notes of fear and curiosity. Fear? What had made you fearful?

Miguel went to the abandoned wing. Your scent filled the air. Had you been snooping little girl? The painting. You’d seen your first iteration from so long ago. 

“Lyla,” Miguel roared. “I want everyone on the ground looking for her. She doesn’t leave this town – do you hear me?”

“Louder than necessary but okay.”

He drove from the estate, through the town until he picked up your scent. His talons dug into the steering. Rage fuelled him like no other. Had you really thought you could leave? He thought he could be patient, be kind, and wait you out. Then you left. 

What made you think you had the right?

His journey halted. Miguel retracted his talons and exited, fangs extended as you sat leaning back on a bus bench. About half a mile ahead, he could hear the incoming sound of the bus. You would get the chance. 

“Where do you think you’re going, mi sol?”

You jumped up, eyes wide. “Miguel! How did you?”

“I can find you anywhere.” He said gruffly. “You leave without notice at all your jobs?”

“I, uh, I was just taking the weekend off.”

He clicked his tongue. “You’re lying to me. You were snooping. Come back with me.”

“I’m not going back.” You snapped. “I don’t know what’s going on in that place but it's not natural.”

Miguel grew tired but he knew he couldn’t be heavy-handed. He had to be smart about this. “You’re right. I’m sorry about that go to your family. But know on Monday you’ll still have a job and a home with us.”

You were so easy to lie to that he almost felt bad.

The bus came and he fell back, watching you leave. The bus moved slowly down the dusty road. It was a long ride back to town. He tapped his watch and made a phone call. “Lyla. I need an accident. Now.”

“Fatal or fatale?”

He sighed. “I’m not in the mood for this right now.”

“Well, she doesn’t seem to be in the mood for you either.”

“Crash the damn bus, Lyla, now.”

“Already sent something that way, bossman.”

“Ayudame dios.”

Keeping up with the bus wasn’t a problem. Through the woodlands, he could see a creation jumping through – all fur and bolts, his favourite hairy bot crashing into the bus from the front, making the driver stop immediately. The wolf sat growing, padding its way to the front sidewheels before he punctured it with his teeth tearing through. The bus leaned to its side, dipping. He watched, from his parked spot, morbidly as the great machine broke the side window, paw reaching in. He heard you scream and smelt the faint scent of your blood. 

Miguel decided it had gone too far then, chasing the creature off. 

The driver of the bus came out first, assessing the damages. You shivered, trembling as you climbed down with your bags on your shoulders. You had been crying. Salty tears rolled down your cheeks. “How long until someone gets out here.”

The driver scratched his head. “Best luck you got is to hitchhike. They’ll come get me in an hour or two. Sorry, darling.”

That was his cue. Miguel started the car and drove by slowly. It was tinted so you excitedly jumped up and down, glad to think it was a kindly stranger. As if he would leave you to be picked up by some ill-thinking stranger.

He stopped, rolling the windows down. “Need a ride?”

You looked stiff with fear. The driver, however, beamed at him. “Oh, sure young man. This lady is heading into town. Think you can give her a ride?”

“Sure I can.” He unlocked the door, pushing it open. Miguel smiled at her, showing his sharp teeth. “Get in.”

Nodding, you hurriedly got into the vehicle. Your curly hair fell to your face as glossy eyes watched him. Miguel turned the radio on and a storm warning came out. 

“What are you?”

“Let’s get back to the estate and then I can explain.” Miguel made a sharp U-Turn and drove past the wreckage, racing back to the property. 

He could smell your fear, the hint of your blood, he looked down seeing a little blood blooming beneath your white dress. It formed a little cloud. He hissed, he hadn’t meant for you to get hurt. “Are you in pain?”

You kissed your teeth instead of responding to him. He sighed. He had expected that – you always, without fail, had a bad attitude when he fucked up. Miguel cursed himself, he should have removed that painting. Why hadn’t he thought clearly? “I didn’t want it to come to this – if you had just let me explain.”

“What is there to explain?”

The estate was coming into view now. Rising like a terrible moon on the horizon.

“It wasn’t you in the painting.” He clarified. “Well, not you. A version of you.”

He punched the code in, the gates opening as he drove up and slamming shut behind the two of you. “That doesn’t make any sense, Miguel.”

You clutched your bags, walking ahead of him as you entered the house. You set them down and Miguel smelt your blood more. “Let me fix you up. Please.”

You flinched but allowed him to lead you to the other side of the house into the very wing that had made you run. Miguel tucked his hands into his pockets. Watching you carefully step ahead. He tried hard not to look at your ass, the switch and sway of the hefty cheeks but he tried to keep his mind on task and out of the gutter.

Which was hard since you looked and smelt like you.

“Are you human?”

“No.”

You gasped, wrapping your arms around you. “Okay.”

Miguel could positively hear your mind working. You turned to look at him, eyes narrowed as if to find the answer in his face. Miguel decided to make it easy on you. He opened his mouth, fangs dropped. 

“Shit!”

“Shit.”

A familiar door came up. His hand settled on your waist, stopping you from going further. He felt you shiver under his touch. The faint scent of your arousal wafting upward. His gums shivered. 

“C’mon,” his voice was gruff. “It's right through here.”

It had been decades since Miguel had let anyone but Lyla in. Having you here – where he slept, fed, and worked as a sort of rawness he had missed. He had missed you. Miguel had learned to love this new version of you, you sang as you worked along the house. Danced to pop songs and cooked in the early mornings before the sun rose. 

“Sit here.” he directed you to a chaise lounge, eyes gazing back. “Take the dress off.”

Your lips quivered with a mounting argument but common sense seemed to reign for a moment as you slipped it off. Just watching you made him harden. The black cups of your bra barely keep the fat of your tits in, through the thin lace, he could see the puckered areolas of your breasts. The high waist of your thong dug into the subtle curve of your hourglass figure.

Merida. 

Miguel set the tools down on the bed and cleaned the wound. It wasn’t too deep, just a flesh wound that didn’t need stitches. He brought his thumb to his fang and nicked the skin, pressing the open hole to your wound he smeared it with blood. 

“Jesus Christ…that’s a health code violation.”

He snorted, leaning forward and licking it clean. After his saliva had wiped it off, not even a cut remained. “All better, mi sol.”

“What does that mean?”

“My sn.” he translated. “You’re my sun. Always have been.”

“So you’re a vampire.”

“I’m a vampire.”

You hummed. “And the woman who looks like me in the painting?”

“My wife when I was human.”

“Ah.”

“And I’m a version of her?”

“One of many.”

“Did you kill them?”

“God no.” The idea made his skin burn. “I could never, never hurt you.”

“But you’re a vampire, Miguel. What kind of promise is that?”

“Every time you’ve been in my reach, I loved you until you left me. Until old age took you or until sickness took you.”

Miguel fell to his knees resting his head on your lap. Your face read on incredulity but the fear had vanished from your scent. Curiosity with hints of want. 

“I’m going back to my room.” You stated, picking up your bloodied dress. “And tomorrow night, we’ll talk.”

“Okay.”

***

You couldn’t sleep. When you got back to your room, you shower and change. Texting your mom to know you’re alright. You try to listen to music. To watch a movie. To read but nothing gets you sleep. 

Perhaps it's simply a side-effect of finding out your work for vampires. 

Rain began to pour outside, it was a soothing sound – you blushed as another thought came to mind. There was another way to get you to sleep. Opening your door, you peek outside, making sure the hallway was clear.

Closing your door, you twist the look and step out of your nightshirt and slide your panties off your hips. Digging into one of your bags, tucked at the very bottom was your prize. The blue vibrator stuck out to you. Catching your lower lip with your teeth, you sat at the edge of your bed. Raising one leg and keeping the other down, your legs were spread. 

Your thumb rose the speed to your usual one as you teased your clitoris with it. Eyes closed, you imagined a familiar scenario. Your back against a wall, legs hooked by a faceless strong man. He would take his time with you first. Fucking a thick cock in and out of your wet cunt. 

Your head fell back, as the man in your imagination sped up, fucking you harder. Back hitting the wall. As your height came – you murmured a name and a face appeared in your imagination. 

“Miguel.”

Your climax was instant, spraying wetness onto the edge of the bed, a few droplets dampening the carpet. You set the vibrator aside, collapsing onto the bed. Hands roamed up and down the length of your body, and you vibrated with desire – Miguel’s hands would be bigger than yours, rubbing along your figure, grabbing and biting. He would want you. He would let it be known how much he needed you. 

Your fingers went back to your pussy, rubbing the sticky substance about before slipping a finger in. His fingers would spread you better. Fuck you better. You were sure. 

“You look delicious, mi sol.”

Eyes flickered open – Miguel stood at your door with glowing red eyes and mouth parted in hunger as he stared. His hair was not gelled as usual, falling curls making him look dishevelled. Shamelessly, you added a second finger. The wet sounds grew louder. In the quickness of a blink, he appeared in front of you. He squatted in front of your pussy – inches from your furious fingering.

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself come.”

You snapped like a whip. Miguel growled before you, eyes never leaving your wanton form. “Tell me I can touch you.”

“You can touch me.” you whimpered.

He sighed, a hand resting on the mound of your pussy. His thumb stroked your clit. “Tell me I can kiss you, mi cara.”

“Kiss me.”

Miguel’s lips planted themselves on the folds of your pussy. He kissed and sucked, tonguing the insides of you while he strummed your clit. He took his time. Savouring the flavours of your pussy, moaning as he ate and tasted every crevice of you. 

Your fingers threaded his curly hair, gripping them as you ground against his face. His lips sucked on your clit, his hand moving from your mound to your thigh to keep your legs open while two of his thick fingers sawed into you. 

Messily, you sprayed his face, hips moving maddeningly against his pretty face. Miguel sucked it down, licking and nipping at your trembling centre. When he rose, his face was shiny and he grinned down at you. 

“Say you want this.”

How could you not? “I need this.”

You watched with earnestness as he pulled his pants down, slipping them off. His T-shirt went next. His body was better than you had imagined. The bounce of his thick cock. Begging to be made shiny with your pussy.

“Spread yourself for me, baby. Let me see this pretty little pussy.”

Your fingers spread yourself, you watched as he stroked himself, coating the large member with pre-cum. He bowed his head, spitting on your wet cunt. Miguel’s thumb rubbed the saliva in, using two of his fingers to open the weeping carven. Slowly he entered you – his thickness making you gasp. 

Your hands gripped his shoulders, moaning as he bottomed out. You whimpered, groaning as he started to move. Your legs wrapped around him, nails digging into his shoulders. 

“You’re doing so good, mi sol. Taking my cock so deep.”

His hips snapped, taking his time as you grew used to him. Miguel was certainly bigger than any toy you owned. His cock dragged along you like he was making sure you took him so deep you didn’t know where you ended and he began. 

“Such a good girl. Mi vida. Mi luz.” His hand went to your throat, squeezing it slowly as his eyes stayed on your face. Memorising every O your lips made. It was disconcerting. But when his hips sped up, shaking the bed and making you mewl – you couldn’t care less. 

Miguel’s head bowed, lips to your neck as he kissed his way down to your breasts. You felt his teeth graze the soft flesh of your breasts. He didn’t have to say what he wanted. You wanted it too, you could feel the tremble of your upcoming orgasm. 

“Do it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Teeth sinking into the flesh and sucking. You creamed his cock, shouting obscenities as your orgasm shuddered through your entire body. Stars dotted your eyes, your toes curled and your bite your tongue so hard it bled.

Miguel’s hips went faster, hips snapping hard into you that it pained you ever so slightly. His cock twitched with an especially vicious plunge, painting your walls with his cum. Fangs retracting, Miguel licked your nipple, lips kissing it as he held you close. 

The high of it all slowly died down. You felt the thickness of his cock and the fullness of his seed. Your fingers traced along his arm. “I’m guessing you’ve been hearing me most nights for the past three months.”

He kissed your sternum and then your lips. It was a passionate kiss. And you realised – your first kiss. How backwards the two of you had done everything. How unjust – because it seemed Miguel was a damned good kisser.

 “And every night I touched myself to your sound.”

Your pussy clenched around him at the thought. Miguel smirked. “Aren’t you sore?”

“I’ll worry about that later.”

“As you wish.”

***

“So you’re sure everything is alright now?”

You rolled your eyes, reassuring your mother for the fifth today. It had been a solid week since you’d left and returned. Your mother still didn’t believe it was totally consensually – despite the fact that you had invited her and she’d come and see that you were totally alive and well. 

“You can’t blame your mother for worrying.”

“I know.” Your eyes flickered outside the greenhouse. It was night now. The other members of the house would be up soon. Your mother and you finished talking soon after. It seemed like on cue as you finished the call Miguel came into the greenhouse. Pulling off your muddy gloves, you smiled at him. At your side in and second he kissed your forehead and set his hands around your waist. 

“Hello, mi luz.”

“Hi, baby.” You kissed his mouth. “Did you feed yet?”

He hummed a confirmation, caging you against the desk. Miguel picked up a seed packing, explaining it. “Hibiscus? I don’t think those grew here.”

“Well, they’re not native,” you said. Slipping out from him, you dragged him down to his knees to see a box of soil you’d been working on. “But I’m sure I’ve got the soil mixture down. In the next few months, we’ll see how it goes.”

His hand rubbed along the side of your body. “That’s incredible, baby.”

Standing up, you looked down at him and blushed. “Well, its no machine wolf.”

“Mhmm.” His hands held your hips, squeezing the globes of your ass cheeks. He smacked the fat, groping it unashamedly. His nose pressed to your groin. “You’re an incredible woman. I hope you remember that.”

“Kiss up.”

His eyes flashed, and his lips spread to a mischievous grin. Miguel fell back onto the ground of the greenhouse. You smirked setting legs on either side of your hips. You unbuckled his pants and took his member out. You stroked it, spitting on the tip of it, before rubbing up and down. His hand raised your skirt up, a talon stretching out and cutting the side of your panty off. He pulled it off, baring your pussy against the rough material of your jeans. 

Hips raised, Miguel pulled you onto his cock, grinning as you whimpered at the sudden intrusion of his thickness. Your hands pressed to his hard chest, crying as he fucked up into you. 

Yes, you thought, eyes rolling back, everything was more than alright.

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[cambion-companion]

Hi, I love your blog! On the subject of "one bed", what do you think of this: reader is kidnapped. Aemond happens to find her. They're too far from the city, so they must set up camp in the woods/cave. His sword is placed between them (like Jon & Ygritte), but it's really cold, windy and rainy, their fire dies. 😮 They must share their body heat, and Aemond's extra warm bc of his dragon blood. 🥵 Even better if they're childhood enemies. I'm a sucker for the enemies-to-lovers trope. lol

Oooh, yes, I love the enemies to lovers trope more than anything. Let me see what I can cook up here! This is also the longest fic I've written in a WHILE lol

word count: 2,664

Aemond x fem!reader | enemies to lovers | 18+ only | there be a lot of SMUT | hot spring smut

The wind whipped about you, causing your cloak to flutter and swirl, the snow landing in thick white flakes on your shivering head and shoulders.

“Aemond, it’s close to nightfall!”  You shouted to the distant figure ahead of you. “We should make camp!”

“We don’t stop until we reach White Harbor!”  Came the muffled reply, his voice almost carried away on another strong gust of chill air.

“When will admit you got us lost?”  You jutted out your chin in defiance as the prince rounded on you, striding through the deepening snow to approach you.

He was taller than you, stronger too by the looks of him, but you refused to be intimidated even when he loomed into your personal space, forcing you to look up at him. “You are a traitor and now a prisoner to the Crown.  I have been tasked with bringing you back to King’s Landing.”

“And we aren’t going to get there if we freeze out here!”  You interrupted, glaring into his one eye. “I thought you were the smart Targaryen.  At least you were last I saw you…” You continued to taunt as Aemond took your elbow roughly, shoving you to walk ahead of him. “But I guess a lot can change in ten years.”

“Keep moving.”  Was your terse reply, you could almost hear his teeth grinding and you smiled to yourself in satisfaction.

“Oh, come on, Aemond!”  You looked over your shoulder, momentarily taken aback by how close he still was. “We were friends once, remember?  What’s changed since then?”

“What’s changed?”  Aemond echoed your question, incredulity and anger lacing his every word. “You fed information to the Black Queen and her allies.”  He touched the pommel of his sword with a gloved hand, staring daggers at you. “You are a spy charged with treason, and my brother entrusted your retrieval to me alone. Now walk.”

“How clever of him.”  You resumed trudging through the snow, it was up to your knees now.  Aegon had known your one weakness would be his brother, the boy you remembered so fondly as your childhood friend.

It has been easy for Aemond, tracking you down, asking after you under the pretense of reuniting.  You had fallen for it, of course you had.  Now your hands were bound in front of you with thick rope, and you were being led back to the Capital like a lamb to the slaughter.

“We will take shelter in those caves.”

Darkness had descended quickly as the snow continued to fall, you squinted, making out the shape of several large rock formations ahead of you.  

Aemond scouted out the shallowest of these caves, laying out the bedrolls and handing you some dried meat to eat.  You tugged dismally at the jerky.  It tasted terrible.

The winds seemed to be driving the storm away, soon enough the clouds dispersed, leaving a clear sky and a full moon above.  Your predicament momentarily forgotten you looked up in awe at the stars and the way the silver light of the moon reflected brightly off the white blankets of freshly fallen snow.

You felt Aemond’s gaze, turning your head to catch his eye.  His long hair was bright under the clear night sky, the light reflecting off the paleness of his skin.  You looked at each other, in heavy silence, for a long while.  Aemond gave nothing away, his expression smooth as marble.  Only his eye moved as it roved across your moonlit features.  

“You don’t have to wear that.”  You broke the silence, motioning to Aemond’s leather eyepatch. “I’m sure it’s soaked by now.”

His mouth thinned as he continued looking at you, not deigning to reply.

“I was there when it happened, Aemond.”

Another beat of silence.

“I recall.”  His voice was low, clearly audible now that the winds had abated.

In a fluid movement, Aemond lifted the patch off his head, still watching your face unblinking.  Despite yourself, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of what lay beneath.  A multi-faceted gemstone of rich blue caught the light and refracted into a thousand sparkling moons.  

“It’s beautiful.”  You breathed, entranced by the sight.  You laughed suddenly. “Of course, you would choose the most beautiful gem.”

“I’d much rather have my eye.”

“Of course.”  You repeated, feeling foolish.  You looked down at your hands, resting in your lap, still bound by rope.  “Is there any chance you can untie me?”

“No.”

“Great!”  Your eyes narrowed at him. “Can we make a fire?”

“No.”

“Well, you’re just a ray of sunshine.”  

“A fire would act as a beacon, drawing unwanted attention.”  Aemond rolled his eye, shifting to lay down upon his side. “At least I am not a traitor.”

“I had no choice, you insufferable upstart!”  Anger bubbled in your chest, your words cutting through the still night air. “I did it to save my family.”

Aemond was silent, he turned onto his back, looking up at the dark ceiling of the cave.

You took the opportunity to at last retrieve the small knife hidden in your boot, sawing slowly at the rope that bound your hands. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, privileged as you are.”  The bindings began to loosen. “But I refuse to play the pawn in someone else’s game.”

With a snap your hands were free.  You came to your feet suddenly, turning to run in the direction you knew to be shelter and freedom.  The moon shone bright overhead as you ran through the snow, making your surroundings almost as bright as in daytime.  

You prided yourself on being fast and agile, however Aemond was still faster.  You felt a heavy impact at your back as he tackled you face-first into a snowbank.  You lashed out, making impact against some part of him that gave you an advantage, allowing you to wriggle out from under his weight, rising back to your feet.

“I thought you were clever.”  Aemond panted, facing off against you, his sword still in its sheath. “I suppose much can change in ten years.”  He mocked, tilting his silver head at you, a grim smile upon his lips. “Didn’t occur to you to wait until I slept before trying your escape?”

He approached you, deflecting your attacks as you tried to fend him off.  Aemond grabbed your elbow, practically dragging you back to the cave. “You are more trouble than you’re worth.”  

“Then why don’t you just kill me and be done with it?”  You collapsed against the stone ground as Aemond released you with a push. “Death is what I face at King’s Landing.”

“Indeed, it is.”  Aemond’s stance was still defensive as you struggled back to your feet. “My brother wants you to be an example to the people.”

“What do you want, Aemond?”  You asked, spitting your damp hair out of your mouth.

The prince didn’t answer you, busying himself instead with patting you down for more weapons, you little knife was lost in the snow.

His dexterous hands moved across your body, probing your clothing for more hidden daggers. You inhaled sharply as he pressed his fingers to the inside of your thighs. “Buy me a drink first.”  

He looked up at you, his prominent brow furrowing. “Do you feel that?”

“Yes, that’s why I-”

“Hush.”  Aemond interrupted you, straightening and looking intensely over your shoulder, deeper into the cave.

He stepped passed you, and you followed his movements with a quizzical quirk to your eyebrow.  Then you felt it.  Warm air. Seeping from somewhere deeper inside the dark cavern.  

Aemond muttered something unintelligible, returning to his pack where he rummaged a while.  Flame sparked as he struck stone upon stone, igniting a makeshift torch, holding it aloft and returning to where you stood watching.

“Ladies first.”  He motioned for you to walk ahead of him, deeper into the cave.

“Very well, but if I get eaten by a bear, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

“Promises, promises.”  Aemond half-laughed, his breath tickling the back of your neck as you explored further.

The warm air blew stronger against your face as you picked careful footsteps forward, the way ahead illuminated by flickering firelight.  You descended through rough walls of black stone, ducking every so often to avoid a jagged overhang.  Soon the sound of water met your ears, the air around you very warm and humid, the stone beneath your feet glistened and little puddles of water lay around the small cavern you found yourself in.  

“An underground spring!”  You exclaimed, excitedly turning back to Aemond. “I’ve heard of there being hot springs in this area, but have never found any.  Thank the gods!”

You shifted off your heavy cloak, beginning to undo the fastenings of your clothing, eagerly looking at the clear water and the coils of steam rising off its shimmering surface.

“What are you doing?”  Aemond sounded rather perplexed behind you, still holding the torch aloft.

“Drying my clothes and taking a bath, what does it look like?”

“Y/N…”

Your hands, which had been undoing the lacings of your tunic faltered, hearing your name upon his lips for the first time in over a decade.

You turned to face him; jaw set determinedly. “You can turn around or even leave me here in darkness, I will get into that water.”

Aemond looked away as you shuffled off the rest of your clothes, spreading the soaked fabric out on the stone to hopefully dry a little.  You splashed into the hot water, sighing loudly as your chilled body was enveloped by warmth.  “Aemond you’ve got to come join me.  It’s unreal.”

You looked over to where the prince still stood rigid, facing diligently away from where you bathed. “You can’t see me, silly.  The steam covers our bodies as good as clothing.”  A playful smile tugged at your lips as he finally looked back over to where you sat.

He lay the torch upon the ground, the firelight illuminating the small cavern in a cozy glow.  You watched as Aemond removed his cloak as well, only looking away politely when he started unbuttoning his shirt and trousers. You heard the water splash and felt little eddying waves as he entered the spring, choosing to sit as far from you as possible.  

You glanced over at him before laying your head back against the stone, watching how the torchlight cast dancing shadows on the jagged dome.  

“Who threatened your family?”  The question was soft, you almost didn’t hear it over the sound of dripping water.

“I’m not sure who, exactly.  Just the Blacks.  They knew of the position I held in the Capital, and how valuable the information I received could be for them.”  Unbidden tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you continued looking up at the ceiling. “They made gave me a taste…an example of what I could expect should I disobey.”

“What do you mean?”  Aemond’s voice was a little closer, concern lacing his words.

“Minerva.”  

“No.”  Aemond was next to you now, you could see him in your periphery. “Y/N, look at me.”

You raised your head, fresh tears falling down your cheeks to mix with the steaming water.  Aemond looked crestfallen, his eye sorrowful upon your face. “I loved your sister like she was my own.”

You nodded, your face crumpling, hugging yourself under the water. “I know, Aemond…but a lot can change in ten years…”

Light fingers grazed your cheek. “Where is the rest of your family now?”

“Still at home.”  Your lips parted slightly as you looked at the intense expression on Aemond’s face.

“We will retrieve them.”  He spoke firmly, his mouth shaping the words carefully. “Bring them to safety.  And you…”  His wandering fingers traced your jaw, his thumb brushing your lower lip.  “Y/N.”

You leaned into his touch, your gaze falling to his plush mouth. “What of me?”

“You will not answer to my brother.”  Aemond took your chin in his hand, tugging you still closer until you overbalanced, catching yourself against him with a hand to his bare chest.

“Aemond…”  You breathed out his name, whatever you intended to say forgotten as he pressed a kiss to your lips.

You moaned into his mouth as his hands skimmed down your sides to grope the flesh at your hips.  He pulled you flush against him, your breasts pressing against the planes of his chest. The water enveloping you in silky caresses as you moved to straddle Aemond’s lap.

He nipped at your lower lip, coaxing your mouth open to allow his tongue to roam and taste you.  You ground yourself against his hard arousal, frowning down at the prince as he stilled your movements with a firm grip.  

Aemond pulled away to look up at you through his hooded eye. “I will not take your maidenhead tonight, for we are not yet wed.”

The “yet” lingered in the air as he moved to place wet kisses to the hollow of your throat, sucking bruises to the soft flesh of your neck.  

“Then what-ah!”  You gasped, your hips jerking Aemond’s fingers brushed against your slick center.

“I want you to ride my fingers, Y/N.”  He mouthed at your breast as your rose up to position yourself over him.

He helped guide you down, his longer fingers entering your core, moving and curling inside of you as you began rocking against him.  Your body jerked as Aemond’s thumb brushed your clit, rubbing circles against the swollen bundle of nerves.  

“You’re so beautiful.”  He breathed, licking and sucking your pert nipples into his hot mouth while palming the swell of your breasts with greedy hands.

You moaned, arching into him, your eyes shut and mouth open from the pleasure of feeling him stroking deep inside your cunt.  The water splashed over the stone rim of the pool as you quickened your pace, your hands coming to grasp at Aemond’s strong shoulders for support.

“Aemond I’m going to-” The walls of your quim clenched around his fingers as, with another stroke to your clitoris, he sent you over the edge.  You rode out your orgasm on the prince’s hand as he continued kissing every inch of skin his mouth could find.

With a sudden movement, and the splashing of hot water, Aemond stood, holding you to him by your thighs.  He turned, placing you gently down upon the stone floor, spreading your legs wider before he knelt, still within the water, burying his face into your spasming cunt.  Your cries of bliss echoed off the rough walls as you felt his tongue licking up your juices, fucking into you with wild abandon. Aemond moaned against your heat, his fingers still gripping your shaking thighs, forcing them to remain apart as you writhed atop the ground.  Your fingers buried themselves in his silken hair, though you did not know whether it was to push him away or pull his face deeper into you.

With a lewd wet sound, Aemond released you, licking his lips and watching your wanton expression with a small smirk.  “It’s demanding all of my self-control not to take you right here, on the floor of this cavern.”

“I wish you would.”  You slid back into the water, kneeling to face him.  You pressed a kiss to his mouth, tasting your release still upon his tongue.

He groaned, cupping the nape of your neck with his hand. “You’re not making it any easier.”

“I know.”  You slid your fingers along the hard length of his shaft, before stroking him fully in your hand. “Stand up.”  He obeyed, the water dripping off his body, revealing his rigid member.

You bit your lip, admiring the sight of him fully bared to you.  The rivulets of water running down along the contours of his muscles, shimmering golden in the firelight.  

“We aren’t done yet, my prince.”  You leaned forward, placing a kiss to the leaking head, looking up at Aemond’s face through your long lashes. “You’ve been so generous to me.”  You licked a long stripe along his twitching cock. He hissed, grabbing a fistful of your damp hair in his hand.   

“Allow me to return the favor.”  The water lapped at your waist from where you knelt in the pool, you smirked up at his entranced expression, before sucking him into your greedy mouth.

#aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond oneshot #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #hotd aemond x reader #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfic #prince aemond #pro aemond targaryen #aemond stannies #aemond drabble #aemond fic #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x you #aemond one eye x reader

[1d1195]

Protection II

This is mostly the getting to know the reader and part. I hope you enjoy. 7.5k+

This is where I'll put the rest of the series: Protection

P.S. Sorry, I have some bad daddy issues that are going to be addressed in this series.

“Okay,” she nodded in promise. “Thank you,” she said seriously. She honestly hoped he sensed the authenticity of her gratitude. Harry was the first person to treat her like a human. Even if she gave him a hard time more often than not.

If she wasn’t careful, she was really going to fall in love with him.

There was just over three weeks between the end of her summer course and the fall semester. She planned on spending almost the entire time she wasn’t working either out in the sun reading or sleeping. Her final year was going to be difficult to say the least and she needed to be rested for the first days of the semester.

Her friends didn’t really chat with her during these weeks. She was used to it. Part of her believed they didn’t really want her to be around during their regularly scheduled class times either. It was why she fought so vehemently with her detail. There was so much drama surrounding her with just the presence of her security following her around.

The poor thing couldn’t sleep in all that much due to her constantly spinning mind and busy schedule with work and other obligations she put upon herself. Waking up at 8AM was about as late as she could stand it. At that time, and to beat the humidity, she hurried to shove her feet in sneakers and twist her hair up and off the back of her neck. She jogged a bit, stopping way more than she should have to walk at a clipped pace. Harry was warned of this and came prepared following behind her with so much ease. If weren’t for the heat, she was convinced he wouldn’t have broken a sweat. He didn’t speak to her while she listened to her music and didn’t make any comments about her need to walk so frequently, which she thought was kind. She imagined the rest of the detail thought she shouldn’t have had pizza on any regular schedule or said she was out of shape.

After a good head clearing, she would head back to shower and relax her muscles. It was the most calming time she had without any reminder of her detail’s presence. The one and only place they let her be alone completely. Coming back out to the living room she found Harry, ever present seated at his laptop situated on her dining table. Her hair was damp from being towel-dried and her skin felt fresh. She flopped onto the couch. Harry was silent, paying no focused attention to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him. Harry per usual, didn’t appear all that sweaty, but she couldn’t imagine having to sit in his sweat all day long while watching her and it was particularly hot and humid this morning. Especially when she had the luxury of hosing herself down. “Do you want to shower?” She asked.

He glanced at her. It wasn’t a terrible request. He hated to feel the thin sheen of sweat over his body—he didn’t think he smelled bad, but he thought he might smell like sweat. It seemed entirely unprofessional—it wasn’t covered in his training that he couldn’t shower at her apartment, but it seemed like something he should steer clear of. He could always call another agent while he headed back to his place—just ten minutes from hers. He could be back on the inside of an hour. “Uh...yeah, if y’don’t mind. I’ll jus’ call some—”

“You can shower here,” she shrugged setting up a playlist to play through her TV speaker. “I have more than one towel, obviously.”

Harry thought her sarcastic bite was funny and not dreadful like the rest of the team made it out to be. He smirked. “Uh...I don’t really want t’leave—”

She rolled her eyes and picked up her book. “I pinky promise, cross my heart, swear on my mother’s grave I won’t leave this apartment until you’re dressed and able to chase me efficiently,” she mumbled flipping to the bookmarked page. “Honestly might fall right back to sleep anyway,” she muttered. “Towels are in the linen closet,” her tone was dismissive. The ball was in Harry’s court.

Harry didn’t really want to piss her off; part of him thought that if she remained happy maybe she wouldn’t give him such a hard time. He wasn’t kidding when he told her he hated paperwork and despite how...different she seemed than the stories he heard, he wasn’t going to take his chances. Closing his laptop and he made his way by the couch toward the hall to the bathroom. He stopped in the threshold briefly and gazed at the girl snuggled on the couch who didn’t look like she’d be moving for hours. “Please,” he eyed her cautiously. “Don’t leave,” he said it gently, the slight begging tone in his voice.

She glanced up at his serious, pleading expression. Part of her forgot he was all but her enemy. His voice, his face, his body... he was so lovely. He was adorable. But she couldn’t let him know she thought that. She instead returned her gaze to her book, unable to comprehend the words fully in her brain to make sense due to the depth of green she was seeing in Harry’s eyes. She briefly pressed two fingers to her temple and saluted him without meeting his eyes. “Sure thing, boss.”

Harry still took the fastest shower he’d ever taken, still a bit worried about her leaving. However, when he returned to the main room, there she was reading. Snuggled up cutely on her sofa and listening to the gentle music playing as she did. She really wasn’t as bad as they made her out to be. Or maybe he just hadn’t really seen that side of her yet. But either way, he was glad she was kind for now.

*

“How’s it going?” Niall asked on Harry’s first day off in over a week. While they really didn’t speak a whole lot, he actually felt a little bad not seeing her. So much so, he left her a note saying to just text him if she needed something—and to not give the relief detail a too much of a fight.

“She’s not that bad,” Harry shrugged.

“No way,” Niall was in disbelief. He actually paused mid sip, spitting his drink back into the glass. “I can’t believe the close in age thing worked,” he shook his head. “I should have thought of this years ago.”

Harry shrugged again. “All she does is sleep,” it was true. She slept a good eight hours each day over the last week. In addition, he only glanced up from his computer when her book fell to the ground, and she was fast asleep in her mid-afternoon nap. Harry found his job quite cushy. Especially because he thought she was quite cute when she slept.

“She doesn’t escape?”

“If she did, she’s a lot better than anyone told me she would be. I’ve never noticed. So, I don’t think so. I caught her the first day trying t’sneak t’meet her friends at the pub. S’only because the detail outside saw her on the fire escape. Think they were honestly hazing me a bit,” he shrugged. “M’first day and all...but she hasn’t tried anything since.”

The surprise was still evident from Niall. “You like her?” He asked; he was incredulous.

Harry shrugged once more then nodded. “Yeah...she’s...fun,” he shrugged. “She’s really polite.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever said that about her.”

Harry found he was a bit irritated with his friend. Niall wasn’t one to talk poorly of someone else almost ever so his sudden remarks of the girl made him annoyed. So why was he so negative about her? “Have y’ever even met her, Niall?” Harry asked. The bite in his tone rivaled the one that she would give Harry.

He shook his head. “No, but I’ve seen the paperwork,” he whistled almost in appreciation. “She’s...”

“She’s actually really smart. Funny. Kind,” Harry interrupted.

Niall blinked surprised by Harry’s defense for the girl. “Sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to...I’m sorry. Just...you hear some stories.”

Harry tried to push the girl from his mind. Maybe it would be different when she was back in school. Maybe it wouldn’t. But regardless, he didn’t think it was very nice of the entire department to write her off. He focused on Niall and their lunch at a local restaurant.

His phone vibrated with a message from her. He waited until Niall was engrossed in the game on the screen above their table. Never thought I’d say this about one of my bodyguards...but I can’t wait for you to be back. These people are awful to me :(

It was hard to ignore the flutter of his heart. Treat them with kindness, love. He reminded her.

Feel like they should be kind to me first...

:( He sort of agreed with her. Even if she was a pain in his butt in her own special way, he didn’t think she deserved unkindness. It was about a half hour without a response message from her and Harry realized he was a bit...anxious waiting for her name to flash across the screen. It was dicey of him—it was also silly of him to expect a message in response to a frowny face. Maybe the deepest part of his subconscious knew before the rest of him that he shouldn’t be sending her messages for a very specific reason—especially ones regarding her hatred of the other members of her security detail.

Still...he was the only one she seemed to like...and he was The Department’s last hope.

I’ll be back tomorrow, love. He said finally. He wanted to chat with her more. Six days in a row with her and he was already aching for more time with her.

Thank God. Her answer was immediate. Followed by a second one. Can we get burritos?

Sure thing :)

*

She still drove him insane. She was practically mindless as she marched down the road ahead of him when she ran errands. Nearly stumbling into traffic. It was almost as if she had a death wish.

“For the love of God, would you jus’ tell me,” he snapped at her when she once more forgot to tell him where she was going...even if it was just to get the package she ordered from the main lobby but she left without a word. Caught him a bit off-guard as he jumped up from his typical seat at her dining table, rushing to catch her before she got too far.

Honestly, he couldn’t imagine telling all but a stranger his every movement. It had to be difficult for her. But it still pissed him off. Especially when she smirked at him when he snapped at her. Like a child in trouble who knew she was in trouble. It really infuriated him when she did that.

When she met with her friends, Harry sat by the bar nursing a glass of water. He flashed his credentials to the bartender who gave him a stiff nod, not worrying about his lack of alcohol or why he was intently watching the girl across the room. Harry had to strain to hear anything of importance but for the most part it was harmless.

Boys would come talk to her and Harry couldn’t help but think they were so out of their league. The confidence they exuded was hilariously misplaced, so he thought. She was pretty. Even if she was annoying. He couldn’t help but notice how nice she looked when she twirled her hair into a pretty style, or the way her lips seemed to shine with the gloss she put on but never seemed to come off even when she sipped her drink. Of course, she was intelligent, a biochemist didn’t get to this stage in her academic career without being intelligent.

The boys, however, had one thing on their mind (make that two things) when she wore a pretty blue top with jeans cropped at her ankle. Her hair was twirled to the side making her look like some casual Rapunzel and Harry wished he didn’t think like that. But he was thinking like that. Because despite how annoying she could be, she was really beautiful. Effortlessly, it seemed.

Harry never intervened when the boys chatted with her for way longer than they should have. They didn’t seem to have a clue who she was or that Harry was a mere ten meters away eyeing their every movement. Rarely did she dismiss any of them. Ever polite, which he found interesting. The more time he spent watching her, the more fascinated he became by her.

It was only when he heard them say they were into politics that her face immediately soured, and her attention returned to her drink. At that point, her girlfriend who was essentially a second bodyguard on Harry’s detail (especially when it came to guys) came to her rescue shooing the guy away and they’d find another bar to repeat the process all over again.

The two girls linked their arms while Harry walked several paces behind them. He didn’t eavesdrop on their conversation, but he did want to know what made her laugh so hard just because he hadn’t heard her careless laughter like that before. It made her seem so at ease. He wished she was like that all the time.

Right as they started to enter the next place, a boy snagged her about the waist. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. She blinked in surprise and Harry settled against the wall one business down from her spot at the entrance of the bar. He never found the guys in her company malicious or harmful. They were dumb and drunk most often. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

She pulled from him giving her friend a knowing look. With a gentle smile she grinned at the guy. Harry felt something in his chest warm over. It made him...jealous.

Oh, that’s not good. He thought to himself. But he shoved the emotion to the side. He would deal with it later. He missed the introduction the guy gave so he didn’t get to hear his name. Which meant he would have to wrangle it out of her later when he did a background check on him. “Let me take you home,” he said.

“I’m with my friend,” she nodded toward the girl. The forwardness took her friend for a loop, she was hovering closer to Harry than she had been in the last few places.

“Tell her you’re leaving,” he shrugged.

Her smile was tight. Harry could see it from where he stood. He inched a bit closer toward her friend. Even she was looking on nervously. Harry was twitching to punch him already. Especially if he didn’t leave her alone. “No, thank you,” she said reaching for the door to get inside. He slapped it shut. This time, Harry saw the way she straightened. If she was dog or a cat, he imagined she would have raised hackles. Harry pressed a finger to his ear.

“Stand by,” he mumbled to the receiver attached to him. Despite the noise of the busy street, he could hear the distinct sound of one of the department registered SUV’s engine turning over.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he smiled. The alcohol must have made him more confident. She wasn’t having it.

“I said no,” she was firm. There wasn’t room for argument. Harry felt a bit...proud of how she confidently sized herself up against him. Of course, she had scared an entire division anywhere from ten to thirty years older than her. Surely, she could take on a guy her own age.

“At least give me a chance to turn it into a yes,” he said snagging her hand. She pulled it from his grip, turning toward her friend. She caught Harry’s eye as she did. He was now almost beside her friend, and he swore he saw a sparkle in her eye as if she had only just realized Harry was actually there.

“Baby, what are you doing here!?” She said excitedly, running toward Harry as if she truly had no idea, he was right there all this time. She threw herself against him, arms looping around his neck as she clung to him. Harry felt stunned, one arm wrapping back around her waist. Her exposed skin was warm despite the reminder it was the end of August and evening air was getting cool. But she was like holding the embodiment of summer in his arms.

This was definitely not part of his training. As an agent, he was typically observant and could usually predict different outcomes or make sense of the scene and situation around him. He could figure out what most people were going to do before they did it.

Her sudden stunt left him a bit dazed.

“Thought you didn’t get out of work till later,” she smiled up at him as she pulled away, batting her eyelashes at him. “Can you take us home?” She jutted out her lower lip gazing at him with...adoration? That couldn’t be right. Even if it was for show, she was good at it. Harry didn’t know she was capable of acting. Especially acting as if she was in love.

“Uh...yeah,” Harry cleared his throat. “Got out early,” he mumbled following her lead. He could hear the laughter in the earpiece as she wrapped her arm around his waist. She grabbed her friend’s hand, and they headed off the way they came.

“He’s staring at my ass,” she whispered to her friend. “I can feel it.”

“I mean it’s a nice ass,” she shrugged with a smile.

The girl kept hold of Harry and rolled her eyes. “Creepy,” but Harry didn’t miss how he felt her arm tighten around his waist. He would break the guy’s arm for her if she asked. Harry had the right mind to kill him just for being so forward and annoying to her. Not taking no for an answer the first time she said it. When they turned the corner, she released him immediately. Harry couldn’t help how he felt cold without her embrace. And he hated how easy it was to slip into the mindset that it felt good with her wrapped around him.

Fortunately, she and her friend took off running down the block for the next bar so Harry once more had to put that notion to the side.

*

Harry entered her apartment on September first surprised to find the array of pink peonies and carnations that had adorned her walls the last three weeks were replaced by sunflowers. It was…enlightening. To say the least. Harry wasn’t even in a bad mood, but he was overwhelmed with happiness as he settled his stuff onto the dining room table. “Do you do this every month?” He asked, making his way toward her. She was on a step stool, draping more sunflower vines along the walls.

“No,” she smirked. “I’ll keep these up until December first,” she explained. “I do add some Halloween colors in next month though...and then I take those down to put up leaves for November.”

He loved her place. It was as adorable as she was. Even if he shouldn’t think that way. He enjoyed coming to work. Even if she was going to make him crazy. The flowers were pretty. It made the place utterly welcoming. More of the side of the personality he never really heard about from The Department on display. “What do y’do for the winter?” He asked grabbing the vine that dangled out of her reach and helped her put it up. With her on the stepstool she was a head taller than Harry.

It was not the time to think such things. Plus, she had never thought anything about any of her security detail before of course, but obviously Harry was much closer in age to her than anyone else before him. She couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was and now she was eye level with him. He didn’t question her. Didn’t yell at her for balancing precariously on the step stool, he didn’t care that she had hundreds of flowers to put up. He followed her around the apartment all afternoon chatting with her about her interior design vision.

“I feel like I need something to balance out poinsettias though,” she shrugged as they moved to her bedroom. Harry helped her more and she accepted it, surprisingly. He listened to her rant and rave about flowers and didn’t seem to mind at all that he was being paid to decorate with her. “Most winter flowers are red,” she explained. “I like red, but it’s overwhelming, you know? I think winterberries are beautiful, but I love petals,” she continued.

“Well, what ‘bout snowdrop?” Harry asked.

She paused her movements, tilted her head at him. “I don’t know that one,” she admitted. He quickly reached for his phone, tapped it several times then handed it to her.

“These?” He suggested. The screen showed the pretty little white flowers, and she glanced back at Harry. “They’d look pretty with winterberry or poinsettias,” he murmured.

Harry liked flowers. How fascinating. She assumed, like most of the other agents before him, Harry probably knew every detail of her life. Maybe better than she did sometimes. But of course, Harry was quite tight-lipped. She knew some of his food and drink tastes, but she didn’t know much about his home life, why he came to America, or how he ended up on her detail.

But he liked flowers enough to know the names of them. Enough to show an interest in something she cared about. Even if it was just a bunch of wall décor. Handing the phone back to him, she smirked at him. “I think I’ll order some fake ones on Amazon. Thank you,” she smiled.

Harry smiled back at her. “Happy t’help,” he mumbled and held his hand out for her to get off the step stool. “Any plans for today?”

Her plan was to torture Harry now that they were in single digit days until classes restarted. But his kindness ruined that. She sort of hated that he was so nice to her even when she was a bitch. He was really ruining all the hard work she put into terrifying a division of special agents. “Just work and movies probably.”

He nodded. “Sure, I’ll be here,” he smirked and found his seat at the dining table.

“You could sit over here if you want. That chair can’t be comfy all day,” she said.

He shrugged. “S’not bad,” he said gathering his stuff and moving to the opposite sofa she was on. He settled in as she scrolled through different titles on Netflix.

“Do you have any recommendations?” She asked. “I suck at picking movies.”

“I can recommend a rom-com if s’your thing,” he shrugged. “I haven’t watched it yet. Someone else recommended it t'me.”

She adored the idea that her intimidating, closed-lipped bodyguard liked rom-coms. She put it on immediately. If it was formulaic, she didn’t care. She liked knowing what to expect. Watching a movie with Harry was also relaxing. The first time neither of them spoke or acted tensely about her whereabouts. They both chuckled at the same time at different parts and pointed out funny things to rewind ten seconds that the other had missed in the background.

Of all the time she had spent with her bodyguards over the last seven years, this was one of the best afternoons she ever had.

*

The worst of his job started about a week after her classes started. She was out with friends and Harry deemed the drunk college men harmless and gave her more space at the bar where she and her friends danced.

He could see where Niall was coming from, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she was getting to him. Harry was a bit competitive and didn’t want The Department to know he was feeling bested by her too.

But he couldn’t help but be annoyed that it happened much more frequently throughout the month of September and October, becoming routine. Monday through Thursday and Sunday she spent in class, studying, or working in her sitting room and still somehow managing to get one of her jogs in before sunset almost daily. Fridays and Saturdays were spent all but torturing Harry. He had to be much more ready for her attempted escapes.

The first weekend that her classes started, she literally climbed out the bathroom window of the bar. The only reason he caught her was because one of the loudmouth guys she was with was watching a video her friend had sent of her crawling out the window and he was laughing at the hysterics of it. When Harry caught up to her at the corner of the road, she hurled several insults at him that he hadn’t once heard fall from her lips.

“I’m a grown fucking woman,” she snapped. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“S’protocol,” he shrugged. Even if he liked her, he was there to do a job.

The time after that, she simply tried outrunning him, but his legs allowed for much longer strides than her, so she didn’t get too far from him. That time she threw her shoe at him, narrowly avoiding his head. She limped awkwardly to the SUV where she sulked. Harry picked up her shoe and placed it at her feet before he drove her back to her place, where she slammed the door to her room but didn’t come back out once. Since he caught her that time, no paperwork was required.

The following week she was making out with someone in the bathroom hallway and while the idea was disgusting because she deserved far better accommodations than a bathroom hall in a messy bar in a college town, this wasn’t even that bad as far as his job went. But it did make his chest hot with jealousy.

So, he let her make out with the stupid guy while he drank his water at the bar.

The next time she hopped into a car with a stranger. Fortunately, her friend was with her so Harry didn’t worry about her well-being too much. But once he followed her to his place of residence she screamed some more while Harry just watched her have her temper tantrum. Her friend seemed entirely used to these outbursts. She ushered the guys they had met upstairs while she slunk back to the SUV once more. Grumbling and cursing at Harry under her breath.

That event required a huge, detailed report and a grumbly talking to from one of the higher ups. It made Harry irritable but found it hard to stay completely mad at her because she made brownies the following day and told him to help himself—like a peace offering.

Despite the insults and the cursing, Harry would attend meetings and debriefings where they would ask Harry if he wanted out. “Would you like to be reassigned?” They sounded tired. Like they were already anticipating who they would get to replace him.

“Did she ask for someone new?” He asked.

His supervisory blinked at him. “No...but...don’t you want out? It’s been almost a month and a half.”

He frowned. “Er...with all do respect. If she doesn’t mind me, then I’ll stay.”

Harry wasn’t going to back down from a challenge.

*

The worst however was her escape from the concert. There were simply too many variables. Even with a team of ten, Harry still felt outnumbered by her and her friend. To be fair, they told Harry ahead of the concert it was a lost cause. There was no way she wouldn’t escape. It was her best chance.

She was getting ready for the night in her bathroom. Harry was vigilant as ever in the dining area.  She came out to the living room to check on her phone charging on the side table. She looked comfy and adorable. Jeans, converse, a tanktop that fit loosely so it showed off...her assets in a tasteful way. Harry thought she was pretty as always. “Y’look nice,” he mumbled.

She glanced at him curiously and her cheeks warmed at his compliment. “Thank you,” she responded kindly. He closed his laptop and he sighed.

“Look,” he said. Immediately, her kindness disappeared from her face.

“Harry,” she sighed not feeling like fighting.

“I know you’re going to escape,” he told her. “Whatever, s’jus’ more paperwork, right?” He asked with a weak smile. She frowned knowing that he already anticipated her idea for the night. “Please,” he said. “Can y’jus’ send me your location?” He pleaded. “Please," he repeated. "I won’t tell anyone, I won’t make it a big deal. I...jus’ want t’know you’re safe,” he explained. Biting the inside of her cheek she opened her message thread with Harry looking away from his intense gaze. She shared her location for the next twenty-four hours with him. “Thank you,” he said appreciatively getting the alert on his phone. “If y’get into trouble or y’feel unsafe, please jus’ call,” he continued. “I won’t make a big deal of that either.”

He seemed so genuine. Like he really cared about her safety beyond the protocol of his job.

“Okay,” she nodded in promise. “Thank you,” she said seriously. She honestly hoped he sensed the authenticity of her gratitude. Harry was the first person to treat her like a human. Even if she gave him a hard time more often than not.

If she wasn’t careful, she was really going to fall in love with him.

*

It was a shame that her willingness to help Harry out didn’t pan out the way he hoped. When the concert had ended, he thought he had actually done a good job. He kept an eye on her little marker the entire time; she was in place at her seat the duration of the concert. He even got to enjoy a bit of the indie band she was seeing—he heard her play the music on while she worked or read but never really noticed how much he actually liked it. They even put on a good show.

But when most had filed out of her section, he came to the conclusion that she was no longer present. With a groan he headed down to her section, finding not a trace of her behind. But her phone still said she was here. He started searching beneath the seats, dodging sticky soda and alcohol along with popcorn strewn about.

He found an array of jewelry and a condom packet. He even found a wallet that he would bring by to lost and found. But it was her phone that he found that made his body warm with more rage. The flower phone case he was used to seeing around her apartment mocked him. She tricked him. After all that.

The idea of paperwork didn’t compare to the hurt he felt over her betraying deceit.

*

She was enjoying a drink with her friends at one of their favorite spots. For the first time in months, she felt so carefree. They were discussing their latest exams and how nice the concert was. A round of drinks sat empty in front of them while they sipped on the second. Harry was giving her ample space. But that should have been her first clue.

Her arm was yanked out of the booth, and she nearly lost her footing as Harry grabbed onto her but continued to hold her upright.

“Are you fucking serious?” He snapped. Everyone turned to look at him. She scrambled to stand upright. She was ready to scream at him for tugging her out of the booth like that. In front of all her friends. Everyone was silent as she opened her mouth to yell. But then she saw it.

Harry was pissed.

Instantly, she wavered. Her face contorting from anger to worry, sadness. She looked upset. Remorseful even. “Harry,” she started.

“I don’t know what your problem is with me—”

“I didn’t—”

“—but I didn’t do anything t’warrant this!” He shouted, holding her phone up. She instinctively felt for her pocket and realized her mistake. Oh...he was going to kill her.

But still, he was currently embarrassing her.

She wanted to scream right back at him. But she knew he was mad. She knew why he was mad. He asked for hardly anything at all tonight—knowing she was going to leave. It was kind of him to give her so much grace and freedom when no one on that team had ever done so. Even though she left without a word, she truly thought her phone was in her bag. She hadn’t even thought to look for it because she never lost her phone.

“I know y’think s’a big joke. But I take m’job seriously. I take protocol seriously. Jus’ because you want t’pout and cry like a bratty little girl, doesn’t mean y’going t’ruin my life. My career.”

Her eyes narrowed. She hated to be yelled at. Belittled. It made her extremely angry. Regardless of how much she actually liked him. Despite the fact she felt bad she accidentally betrayed his trust. But he was embarrassing her in front of friends and calling her names that everyone else in the department used daily, pissed her off beyond belief.

She glared at him, set her jaw firmly. She could feel frustrated tears lining her vision and she grabbed her purse out of the booth violently. She made no eye contact with the group of her silent friends. She marched right outside to the SUV he had double-parked. Slamming the door shut behind her, she waited until Harry was in the car as well.

“I didn’t know I didn’t have it,” she seethed.

He scoffed. “Bullshit.”

She closed her eyes tightly. So tightly she saw red dancing in her vision. “Believe what you want. I didn’t know,” she snapped. “You were so embarrassing in there. I’m sorry I pissed you off. Again, I really didn’t mean it. But you didn’t have to embarrass me in front of my friends like that.”

“If you’re going to act like a brat—”

She shook her head slowly balling her fists in her lap. “If you call me a brat one more time, I’m going to punch you in the throat,” it was a promise. Harry didn’t think she would cause all that much damage, but he didn’t think it would be wise to take a punch to the throat while he was driving her.

They were silent for five minutes while he drove her back to her place. “You really didn’t know?” He asked, his voice a hair softer.

She glared out the window with a silent shake of her head. “M’sorry,” she murmured.

He sighed and listened to the sound of the tires thrumming against the road for a bit.

“M’sorry I called y’a brat in front of your friends... Can y’please...try t’be...I don’t know...good for me? I like t’think m’not that bad of a guy. M’not that bad at m’job...that I give y’enough space...that we’re...okay.”

More silence until they parked. “You’re the best bodyguard I ever had,” she admitted quietly. “I didn’t mean to do that to you.”

He nodded. “Okay...I accept your apology. Can y’try t’be more mindful?”

She nodded in return. “I’ll try.”

“Call me next time, okay?”

“I don’t know your phone number,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well memorize it,” he sighed a touch of agitation in his tone. She should memorize it for emergencies. “And y’need a failsafe.”

“A what?”

“A failsafe. Assurance that if everything goes—”

“I know what a failsafe is, you ass. What do you mean I need one?”

He ignored her name calling. She deserved one after he called her a brat. “If...something happens t’you. Y’need a way t’get in touch with me. But something that no one else knows. Not even me. But s’got t’be easy enough for me t’figure out. We can go over some of them if y’want that others have used in the past so y’have some ideas t’work with,” he tapped on the steering wheel. “I know I said this was a job, but I do actually care about y’safety.”

She was silent for a few more moments. “If you yell at me like that in front of everyone again, I’ll kill you,” she promised opening her door to head back up to her apartment. He smirked.

“Maybe y’don’t need a failsafe; I pity the person that tries t’take you on.”

*

As frustrating as she could be, she was equally, if not more, lovely in that it made him forget all the paperwork and all the annoyance she caused him. They were on a Target run; she was wandering the aisles casually meandering at her leisure. Harry was eyeing her surroundings, assuring himself there was nothing that would put her in danger.

Honestly, some days he could see why she didn’t want a detail. She didn’t do anything that warranted protection and it didn’t seem like anyone was after her. Not once had he heard from or met with The Secretary of State. While he was grateful for a cushy job, he could see why she was always grumpy about it.

She was scanning new book titles on the shelf and placed two of them in her basket when she suddenly took off without warning. Harry followed after her, caught off guard by her quick pace mildly irritated him once more she evaded him. What he expected of her was never what happened.

She entered the dressing room area, making Harry more irritated that he couldn’t follow her immediately into the women’s section. He wanted to know what he missed, that had her running through the dressing room so fast that she dropped her basket full of mismatching items outside as she hurried back out almost as quickly as she went in.

“You didn’t see her, did you?” She asked Harry before he could ask her what the problem was.

He grabbed her basket that she left behind as she took off once more. He followed after her as she hurried through the other sections of the store.

“See who?” He asked almost running to keep up with her alert pace.

“Seriously?” She asked behind her. “You didn’t hear the frantic mother looking for her child? Aren’t you supposed to be watching for these things?”

He felt his mouth twitch to snap back at her, but she looked genuinely alarmed. Almost as alarmed as the employees in red shirts running around almost as quickly as she was. Despite the sympathetic pang he felt for the upset woman calling a little girl’s name out around the aisles, it wasn’t their problem. It especially wasn’t Harry’s problem who was assigned to watch the 24-year-old—so no, he didn’t really pay attention to the worry in the department store.

“M’sure she’s fine, love,” Harry said trying to assuage her worries. He felt bad, she was so worried. He even felt...awe for her. Her . But she wasn’t giving up it seemed, as she made a quick stop through the clearance section nearly causing Harry to twist an ankle at her sudden turn. She didn’t respond to Harry’s calming voice.

“Someone could have just walked off with her,” she remarked nervously.

Harry could see the fierceness in her eyes. She was resolute: they weren’t leaving the store until this girl was found. Sighing, Harry kept one eye on the girl he was paid to follow and another on the lookout for a small little one that was probably terrified.

Harry tried to tell her something about hideouts and the like, but it was unhelpful. They gleaned they were looking for an eight-year-old. “We’re not thinking like eight-year-olds,” she muttered suddenly and nearly left Harry in the dust as she all but sprinted toward the back of the store once more.

Harry found her crouched in the middle of the aisle, talking to the Halloween costumes on a rack. “Hey, cutie pie, whatcha looking for?” Her voice was soft and gentle.

“I lost my mommy,” the little voice whispered from the rack.

Harry found himself sighing with relief dropping her basket of things by her side. The little girl looked up at Harry suspiciously. She was hidden behind a dog costume and the tule of a tutu beside it. “That’s really scary,” the girl nodded. “I hate losing my mommy,” she said. The little one was still staring at Harry with nervousness.

“This is Harry,” she told her. “He’s tall, huh?” She smiled gently. “Can we help you find your mommy?”

“Mommy said no strangers,” she shook her head pressing herself firmly against the rack, her eyes watery. “I’m scared.”

The girl nodded, sitting on the floor, cross-legged. “Well, I think that’s really smart of you. Mommy would be really proud of you,” she had a comforting smile on her lips. “How about we stay here, and Harry will go get your mommy?”

Harry looked disgruntled as he made a noise in the back of his throat. He couldn’t leave her alone...even for the sake of a child. Even if they were just in a target. “Love,” he started.

She turned her head to Harry. “They are running around the store just to find someone,” she hissed under her breath before turning her gentle façade back to the little girl. “Whatcha got there?” She asked. “Halloween book?” She wondered.

The little one nodded, stepping cautiously off the display of costumes. Tentatively, she sat next to the woman that drove Harry up a wall most days. But right now, she was so gentle, so sweet. Harry felt nothing but pure adoration for her and her kindness to the little one. “Please?” She asked, turning back to Harry as the little one opened the book up and started showing her the pictures in the middle of the floor. Her expression was kind, warm, pleading.

Begrudgingly, Harry headed toward the front of the store in search of the terrified mother.

*

There was a bit of fanfare—especially after realization of who the woman was that found the little one and was reading a picture book on the dusty store floor. She paid no mind to it, said it was her pleasure to help.

After paying for her things, Harry opened the door for her to the SUV and she climbed inside. He felt a bit awestruck. Sure, she was the daughter of a top political official, but that fame didn’t really mean anything to Harry. He was more impressed with her gentle nature. Her kindness. She was cute with kids and had a fiercely protective streak of her own.

She didn’t even mention it; moreover, thought nothing of it, just scrolled through her phone. “Can we get coffee?” She asked.

He thought she might be his hero. Pain in the ass she was. “Course, love,” he murmured. Heroes needed a reward for their efforts. Even if they didn’t see it that way. “You drink an awful lot of coffee.”

“Biochemistry will do that to you,” she muttered, irritated by his remark. It clearly had been said to her before. Somehow, in that moment, Harry realized that she was also fiercely protective of herself. Maybe she had to be given how The Department talked about her behind her back. Maybe because everyone looked at her as if she didn’t know anything as a woman in a science major that Harry could hardly pronounce half the words for when he saw her notes on the coffee table.

“That was really cool of you,” he mumbled pulling into traffic toward the coffee shop. “The way y’helped that little girl.”

She turned to look at Harry. “She was scared,” she sounded defensive. Like Harry was mocking her.

“I know,” he said seriously. “Y’calmed her down and y’helped her. Was really nice,” he shrugged one shoulder hoping he sounded more sincere so she wouldn’t yell again.

She turned to the window. “I got lost at the store once with my dad,” she explained. “I was six. I was terrified. He didn’t even know I was lost until he drove home,” she mumbled. “It was the most terrified I’ve ever felt in my whole life.”

He pulled into the parking lot and she hurried out before Harry could say another word. He watched her intently as she stood in line, ordered, and returned with tea for Harry without even asking him if he wanted some. She was always very thoughtful toward him. Whether she annoyed him beyond belief or not.

For every moment of irritation, anxiety, and annoyance she had put him through thus far on this assignment, it all was swept clean as he thought about what she said. Her dad asking for a protection detail made no sense. Who loses their six-year-old without noticing? Was the protection detail some deep-seated need to fix his mistake all those years ago? What kind of political official could hold office with a straight face knowing his daughter had that kind of dirt on him? How could she not shout it from rooftops?

Harry was right. She had to be fiercely protective of herself because no one else was.

He hoped that eventually she would let him protect her just as much; maybe even stop her frustrating fleeing. Because despite the irritation she often caused, he was really starting to like the many sides of her.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

Protection taglist: @youcouldstartacult @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @luxiorchive @ameerakane20 @daphnesutton @kathb59 @be-with-me-so-happily

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles concept #hs #hs fic #hs writing #one direction #one direction writing #bodyguard!Harry #agent!harry #protection

[leggerefiore]

Pls,,,pls for the love of God let reader kiss the twins big ol foreheads, I keep seeing fanart of them having short hair and big foreheads and it's,,,s,o cu,,,te,,,,auggh

they took anon out before they could finish saying their piece rip

cw: fluff,

characters: ingo, emmet,

▲Ingo▼

The Subway Boss sat on the couch after a particularly exhausting day. He did not even think to slip off his coat or cap as he treaded in. His gloved hand came up to grasp the brim. He head throbbed a bit from a building headache. The cap now sat in his lap as he instead focused on loosening his tie. The tiredness felt like it could seep out into the world around him with how terrible it had become.

You watched your poor boyfriend nearby, having popping your head out of the bedroom when you heard the door open. Ingo looked pathetic. His head laid on the back of the couch as he closed his eyes and let his mind drift. You knew that he struggled with overworking himself. It seemed this evening was an example of what happened when he did. Slipping out of the bedroom, you crept over to him, careful not to disturb him.

His face was charming, even in this condition. The way his light hair cupped his face alongside the careful styling he attentively worked on. His ever-present frown in his lips, making him always look stern – the way his nose sat on his face in compliment to the rest of it. There was a certain beauty to him that felt inexplicable, except that he was beautiful. His forehead laid exposed, cap gone, and a lack of bangs present. You leaned down to press a soft kiss to it.

This startled Ingo out of his stupor as his silver eyes shot open to stare at you. A giggle left you as you pulled away from him. Pink dusted across his cheeks as he almost unconsciously rose a hand to pull down a brim that was not on his head. “Ah, hello, dearest,” he spoke quietly and gazed down at the floor in embarrassment, “I'm home, clearly. I missed you, too.”

You gave him another kiss in reply. A strange squeaking sound escaped him.

His exhaustion seemed to vanish with your affection, in the end.

▽Emmet△

The younger twin's focus was intense as he locked his hands with his Eelektross's own. They were long in a small spar. It was both a bonding activity and training for the two. Emmet preferred to keep himself in shape for tasks around the station, and this helped him prepare for anything that may arise with pokemon. Eelektross enjoyed getting to do some more weird wrestling with its trainer. It kept on until the Subway Boss found himself on the floor, panting.

You peeked out from the kitchen, curious as to what Emmet was doing. Upon seeing him on the floor, you could only sigh. You checked to make sure the cake you had put in the oven would be okay before heading out of the kitchen. Emmet had strange hobbies, you knew. Nothing off-putting or distressing – just odd. His horde of spiders that he dearly cared for or sometimes physically fighting with his pokemon. You knew they would not hurt him, but he always seemed to exhaust himself out quickly. His eyes were closed as he regained his breath.

You leaned over him and gazed down at the twin. He was a bit sweaty, and his face was flustered from the exertion. His fringes clung to his face and had become disorderly. Lips were parted to breathe in precious air as his eyes were squeezed shut. Even thoroughly worn-out. You held back a laugh as you spotted his exposed forehead. Leaning down, you pecked a quick kiss to it.

Emmet's eyes opened in an instant. Before you could lean back up, he caught you and pulled you down for a kiss of his own. His lips met your cheek as he chuckled. He then pecked a few more before freeing you. You stood up straight, a bit dazed from the sudden affection. Emmet sat up in response and smiled at you. “Verrry cute,” he cooed, “Is the cake almost ready?” He then tilted his head.

You rolled your eyes in reply and told him there was still time. He pouted then.

Emmet then demanded more kisses to fill his urge for sugar.

#pokemon x reader #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #pokemon/reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet x reader

[ato-catto]

Goku x fem reader

Old friends, new flames.

Implied smut/sensual/kissing/lust

You had been listing your shopping through your head and doing a few calculations when you suddenly hit something very warm and hard. Your basket flew out of your hand and the contents clattered to the ground, multiple vegetables and cans rolling in every direction.

Swearing under your breath and apologising to the person you crashed into, you began picking up the apples that had been sent rolling when a big strong hand covered yours, and you looked down, seeing a familiar shaped shadow of hair.

"Goku!?" Your eyes widened as your eyes flicked up to meet his big, friendly dark eyes.

He cocked his head. "Do I know you?"

Of course he would have forgotten you. Your days staying at Kame House were long behind you, having taken up residence in a busy village years before after you could no longer put up with Roshis ways.

"It's me, Y/N." You smiled. You couldn't have changed that much in a decade, surely?

You watched as the realisation dawned over his face, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Oh! Y/N! I didn't even recognise you!"

You barely had recognised him in such casual clothing, the only obvious thing making him Goku was his wild wave of black hair that waved slightly in the breeze. His orange gi had been replaced by beige jeans with a matching jacket, a white vest adorning his muscular chest beneath. His jacket sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his hands were caked in dirt- he looked the perfect part of a farmer.

You had heard in passing from Bulma that he had taken up farming, and continued to do so after Chichi kicked him out.

Goku continued to help you pick up your groceries, gathering them into his burly arms.

"How've you been, Y/N?" He beamed, his smile all sunshine and rainbows. It was terribly infectious, making a smile grow on your lips too.

"I've been alright. I've decided to give up fighting and just live a quiet life here in the village."

He looked slightly dissapointed by that, but he quickly realised it wasn't his place to judge. You looked happy- and that's all that mattered.

You still looked as radiant as the days back at Kame House when you all lived together. You had filled out slightly, matured a little in the face- but it had all made you so much more pretty looking.

Once your basket was refilled, Goku and you chitchatted, catching up on the last decade or so of lost time.

When the talk turned to his family, the shine waited from his eyes. "Ah, yeah." He sighed, resting an arm against his tractor. "Chichi finally snapped after Gohan left to live with Videl. She needed me to be around more, and earn more zeni, but I couldn't balance those things with my training." He scratched the back of his neck with a near shameful look on his face.

You lay a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and gave him a comforting look.

"In sorry Goku. Perhaps she just doesn't understand you passion."

Truly, you have never really liked Chichi's treatment of Goku. You had been present when she coerced him into marriage, and nearby when she had berated him for training to save the planet. She had her good moments, and she was a very good housewife, but they was she spoke to him made your heart ache. He was so gentle, so soft, and a little behind the moment at times- he didn't deserve to be treated in any other way but loving and understanding.

He was not human.

He was never going to be a human man, nor behave like one.

Gokus eyes strayed away, telling you he didn't want apart of this conversation anymore. You saw him let his mind go blank before that infectious smile crept back onto his lips. "Want a ride home in the tractor?" He asked with a certain childish excitement that didn't quite fit his muscles.

You grinned, happy to have the twenty minute walk home taken off your back. You hopped into the tractor beside him, fitting snuggly between his thigh and the edge of the plastic seat. The tractor rumbled to life and Goku pushed it into gear. You clung to his arm, worried that the bumps in the dirt would bounce you off.

Now that you had a more hands on approach to his well toned figure, you realised just how cut he was.

The muscles under his jacket tensed when he turned the wheel and your cheeks raised pink.

He had grown stronger and taller since you last saw him, but he was still the same old Goku. You wondered quietly while peering up with him if he had surpassed super Saiyan. He had grown into manhood nicely, even fathering two sons, so perhaps he had also grown into his Saiyan heritage?

Your thoughts were cut off when he turned to meet your eyes, both of you staring at eachother in awkward silence as the tractor trundled along.

His eyes stared blankly into yours, blinking. You stared back, caught offguard by his handsome face.

"Uuh-" he pulled a comical face. You cracked a grin and snorted.

"Oh you're still as silly as ever, Goku." You elbowed him, making his confusion morph into amusement.

"You were the one starin' at me!" He protested, leaning back in the chair, letting the tractor continue down the lane.

"I was just thinking." You hummed, adjusting the basket in your lap.

"Thinkin' about what?" He tilted his head.

"How powerful you've gotten. Did you ever surpass super Saiyan?"

His eyes lit up at the thought of his all time favourite subject, and the fact that you were taking interest in it. "I sure did! Far beyond that, infact!" He pulled over the tractor and engaged the breaks. He hopped down to the dirt road and stepped a few paces back into the empty feild beside them.

"Watch!"

You indeed did watch as he began to roar, powering up into Super Saiyan- then... Super Saiyan again?

"Uh. So you're a super Saiyan? Well done?"

Goku, with now piercing blue eyes and golden hair chuckled darkly. His voice always seemed to drop a few octaves when he transformed. "No, this is Super Saiyan two."

You frown, interested, but confused. "It looks exactly the same."

He gave you a rather mischievous grin that made your heart flop unexpectedly. "Alright, what about this!"

Five minutes of watching him scream and his muscles tensing was enough to drive you to a very sudden conclusion.

You were attracted to the man. Your old friend and sparring partner was making you blush.

It was an odd revelation to have but it was quickly brushed aside by a browless rapunzel of a man.

Goku had transformed once again, the energy around him crackling dangerously. His hair was down to his ankles now, and his eyebrows had vanished into supposed thin air. You went wide eyed.

"Wow!" You gaped. "What do you call that form?"

Goku smirked, his voice gruff. "Super Saiyan Three."

You shut your mouth and the disbelief was replaced with amusement. "That... that's a very creative name-." You snorted. Goku pouted, and deformed entirely.

"I have another form-" he began.

"Save it for my place." You laughed, your ears ringing and skin prickling from the energy he had dispelled. He hopped right back into the tractor beside you like the power he had just displayed was nothing at all.

Once you had guided him to your home, he parked the tractor beside your front door and hopped down, offering you a hand which you took, gladly. Something about this gesture made you feel safer than usual. Your hands were tiny in his, and he felt strong beside you.

The man was a literal pillar of Hope. In many ways.

He had saved the earth more times than anyone knew. And perhaps you loved him for that.

Inviting him in for tea was a given, and he obliged with a cheery smile. He sat awkwardly at your dining table, the chairs being a little too delicate for his heavy frame.

"Would you like juice or tea?" You asked, setting your basket on the side and running the tap.

Goku adjusted himself in the chair, his jeans uncomfortably tight. They werent like his gi. They didn't give room for his legs or junk like the loose material did. "I'll have a tea please." He beamed over his shoulder but once he turned back his frown furrowed and he grunted at the annoyance of his tight jeans. He tried to stretch them out, popping a quick squat.

You turned in confusion when you heard a might RRRRIP. And Goku stood before you with a rip in his jeans, flashing blue and white stripy cotton boxers.

"Waaaaugh!" He cried, beginning to freak out. "My pants! I was tryna' stretch 'em!!"

You covered your mouth and stifled a laugh, your eyes wide. "Oh gosh, Goku. You've wrecked your jeans entirely."

He pouted. "I know-"

He tried his best to pull the edges back together, but without a needle and threat that wasn't going to do any good.

You suggested taking them off. You had some XXL tracksuit pants laying around (that you wore for comfort reasons- the baggier the better) which you offered to him.

"Gee, thanks." He beamed, undoing his belt and slipping them down over his muscular legs. You turned back to the sink, not needing your pounding heart to make itself evident on your face.

Tossing the shredded jeans aside, he took a long breath as if he could breathe again. He borrowed the grey joggers and slipped them on, now just in your pants and the tank top. He looked... gloriously casual.

Your eyes lingered on him a little longer than they should of when he came to the counter to collect his tea cup. The grey joggers curved around him in all the right places, leaving little to the imagination in the crotch department. You found yourself salivating, your imagination running wild as to what was underneath.

Goku had been watching you. Your eyes seemed to glaze over in thought as your cheeks turned pink. He wondered what you were thinking about.

His eyes locked on yours caught you offguard once again, snapping you out of your less than pure train of thought. "Oh! Sorry-" you glanced away.

"Is something on your mind?" He asked, leaning on the counter beside you, shadowing you in the wake of his tall physique. His eyes were gentle and curious, and his hair shadowed his face.

"Not really." You bluffed. "Just thinking about what I forgot at the market!"

Goku blinked. "I can go back and grab whatever you need?" He suggested.

"No, no! It's fine." You blurted, trying to find a reasons in your mind to complete your lie. "I can get them tomorrow-"

Goku frowned slightly and leant forward, his face getting extremely close to yours. "You're lyin'." He accused gently, searching your eyes. "Why would you be blushin' about some forgotten groceries?"

Uh oh. You were completely caught- even if he didn't know the true intent of your zoning out, he had the gist of it.

Playing dumb was your only way out.

"I was blushing? I must have gotten too much sun while I was outside."

Goku wasn't having it. He had sunburn before. It doesn't appear and dissapear at a moments notice.

He didn't exactly appreciate being lied to, but that didn't mean he couldn't try to mince the truth out of you sooner or later. Goku always had a knack for weeding things out of people. Even Vegeta, the Prince of all Brick Walls.

"You don't have to lie to me, Y/N." He pressed, caging you against the kitchen side between his arms. He gave you an intense look- which from your perspective somehow looked both slightly threatening and comical.

"I- I am not lying." You back up until your back is pressed hard against the kitchen counter.

Goku only pressed closer, his nose touching yours as his eyes tried to penetrate your soul. You couldn't breathe. He was so close you could feel his warm breath on your cheek.

Was this some form of intimidation? You wouldn't admit regardless..

"Goku- I-" Everything was too intense. The air about you both changed. You glanced down at his mouth and back up to his eyes, your gut stirring.

Goku, admittedly had been attracted to you since the moment you smacked into him in the village. And now he had put himself in a predicament where he was so close he could taste you. Now it was his turn to go red. His breath hitched when your eyes moved to his lips.

"Y/N-" he begun, but the words stuck in his throat.

When you woke up this morning you didn't expect your afternoon to turn into the Saiyan pushing his lips to yours in an almost desperate fashion, pulling you up to place you on the counter so he didn't have to crane down. His big hands cupped your face and his heart beat hard against his ribs.

Perhaps he was just desperate after the separation. Or maybe it was something that had laid dormant in his stomach over the last decade- but his kisses became desperate and something manifested in him that even you hadn't seen before.

The tender, funny, gentle man had turned into a whimpering, handsy mess. Beating your passion by tenfold; you were nervous but eager but the Saiyan was in full swing, palming your curves and battling his tongue against yours.

And winning.

"Sah-" he breathed as he pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. You looked up at him, your eyes lidded, and cheeks warm.

"What was that for..?" You whisper, hands still balled in his vest against his chest.

Goku barely looks lucid, his eyes clouded over and lidded. "Huh-?"

He must've needed the female touch after being alone for so long, working the fields. All that testosterone must have worked its way up to his power-addled brain and made him desperate for attention.

You swipe your thumb over his bottom lip, wiping the saliva away. "Goku.. Snap out of it."

He blinks a few times, and he's back to normal, smiling and dusting himself off, moving back and away from you. "Ah, sorry! Don't know what came over me!"

You frown. "Uh.. its alright."

He scratched the back of his neck and giggles. "You tasted like donuts- Its made me kinda hungry!"

You had donuts for lunch, but that was besides the point. "Goku, you just made out with me. You don't do that for no reason."

He pressed his lips into a line. "It.. felt right in the moment. Its a mistake, I'm sorry." The joy in his eyes seemed to flicker away. "Was that a bad thing to do?"

It was a sin to do that to you and never do it again.

It left you wanting so much more, rooting your young adulthood crush from the pits if your stomach.

"Of course not. I liked it."

"Oh."

He had liked it too- it was evident from the way he still kept glancing at your lips and licking his own.

"Oh?" You pressed.

"I did too. I just kinda expected you to be mad at me, s'all."

You brushed a stray hair from his eyes. "I could never be mad at you, Goku."

He responded well to tender words, his pupils going wide and his mouth coming in for another, more calculated, kiss. He had grown used to angry women and playful yet hard slaps- this gentleness from you was new and enticing.

Your hands ghosted up his sides, resting your fingers in the hem of the joggers. Goku's hands held the back of your neck, stabilising your head while he probed your mouth with his ever curious tongue.

Your teeth found his bottom lip and gently nipped on it, making him mewl deeply, his eyes cracking open a slit to make contact with yours. His brows quirked into a sensual frown, biting you back with equal verve. His hands found the bend of your back, shifting you round and placing you flat against the wall of the kitchen. Resting one hand on the wall beside your head and the other playing with the hem of your cami, fingers sliding under the material and brushing against the skin of your stomach.

His mouth found your jaw, then neck, the shoulder, brushing the spaghetti strap put of the way so he had access to all your skin there. You tilted your head back until it thudded against the wall, blissed by the feeling of his lips and teeth on your skin.

Goku smelt of earth and grass before a rainstorm, a beautiful combination that suited him perfectly.

When he finally pulled away again, making you worried that he would distance himself for the second time, your fists clutching his vest.

He chuckled, ruffling your hair. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna walk away. I just wanted to ask you something." His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite read, but made it made your stomach flop about like a fish.

"Oh? What is it?"

His hands found your jaw and he tilts your face up.

"Can we take this to the bedroom?"

#goku x reader #dbz #goku

[violetlunette]

Runaway Chapter 10: Phantom

Summary: After searching for so long Lilia finally finds Silver. But is it too late?

Previous Chapter

Master List

Ao3

Notes: *Twst spoilers for Chapter/Book 7

Lilia continued the search. Yet, while the vines became thicker, there was still no sigh of the rumored specter nor a clue to confirm that his son was here. Lilia was starting to lose hope.

‘Did I choose the wrong place?’ He growled as he clutched the ring around his neck.

“Argh, fuck! Stupid piece of shit!” he cursed, using his other arm to swipe at his tearing eyes. It served Lilia right, though. What was he thinking following a dumb--

“Urk!”

Lilia was nearly choked as the chain suddenly yanked him forward by the throat. He was so surprised that he ended up tripping down the large hill.

“FuuuhhhAhhAhahAhhh!” His cries went up and down as Lilia rolled.

Crash!

WHAM!

Lilia's body hit a large boulder at the bottom of the hill.

Upside down, the world continued to spin around him as the fae's mouth, bones, and muscles all groaned.

“Ughhh! Of course!” it was just Lilia’s luck, wasn’t it? Shit, was all this bad luck that Leprechaun king’s way of getting revenge for tricking him that one time 300 years ago? Cause if so--

Whoooosh~

The area turned gray, layered by a strange mist that slowly filled the air. Around Lilia, the vines began to move like snakes  cricking  and  cracking  as they did so.

“ Ah, ah, ahh, ahhh, ahhhhhhh~... ”

The notes of a song drifted overhead and fell like raindrops. A song that was both strange and familiar...

It tugged at Lilia’s heart, springing tears to his eyes as his breath caught in his throat. Then he remembered.

It was one of the songs he used to hum to Silver when the lad was a baby, to calm him after a terrible nightmare.

A song he nearly had forgotten…

A shadow fell.

Then he saw it.

Lilia’s gaze widened in horror.

“It can’t be…” Above him was a  phantom .

Despite living long, Lilia didn’t have an extensive experience with Phantoms. Though recently they had become more frequent, for a long time, they were rare.

Yet, despite his lack of knowledge, Lilia felt confident in saying that no Phantom was as beautiful as this one.

Its form was that of a Princess in sorrowful blue, floating upon a swirl of black mist. Like all Phantoms, it had an ink bottle for a head. This bottle was in the shape of a heart with a green light glinting off the glass. Atop the odd head, it wore a tarnished crown. It reminded Lilia of the ring that led him here. Yet what gave the Phantom its true beauty was its golden halo of hair. It hung in ringlets around the Phantom’s doll-like frame. Despite the green glow around the specter, it gave off no light, only a nimbus of darkness. 

It sang a haunting tune like an old music box created to lull a child to sleep.

What held Lilia’s attention, however, was the figure she carried between delicate arms.

The man’s mouth fell agape, eyes growing twice their size as his brows pulled inward. His body began to tremble as the cold of winter plunged down his spine.

Through quivering lips, he muttered, “It can’t be... Silver! ”

Ink smeared across skin pale as the grave. The black streamed from closed eyes like tears, making it seem as if he were a boy crying in his sleep. The silver hair, for which he named, lost its moon-like shine and had become a dull gray, frayed like cobwebs. But none of that was what lit the terror that made Lilia’s old muscles turn to stone, nor made his heart stop dead as if shot with a bullet or turn his blood to ice. What did that was the blade. Said blade stabbed through Silver’s heart. The sword also pierced the Phantom, pinning him to its breast. The Phantom stroked the teen’s hair like a child, singing her lullaby. Lilia felt his mouth dry as he whispered, “It can’t be…” He then cartwheeled himself upright, turning as pale as the moon as his irises nearly vanished. His breath began uneven as he began muttering to himself, “No…It can’t…Please, no...” The chant became more and more desperate till it became a prayer. Mentally, he begged his mind to tell him his eyes were playing tricks. That it was all an illusion or a bad dream. Otherwise, the reality would be that his son was dead and that—that thing was cuddling his corpse like a doll. ‘No…’ he told himself. Lilia forced his panic back, and his rational side took over. ‘Silver could still be alive, just under an enchantment. Or could that…’ Could be his Overblot? It was difficult to see as the Phantom and the blade blocked most of his form. Regardless, Lilia knew his first step; freeing Silver from-- The Phantom turned an eyeless gaze upon him. Lilia crouched, clenching his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering from the chill going through his bones. Watching the foe closely, his hand moved to his clever, ready to pull and fight when-- It vanished.

Lilia blinked. He blinked again. Once more to be sure. Then his mouth dropped open.

“Huh? What...no...No!” Confusion turned to horror.

Silver was right there.  He was right there!  Dead or alive, Silver was right there before Lilia! And now he was gone!  Again!

“Silver! Silver!” Lilia ran to the spot where the Phantom had disappeared, swallowed by the mist of the late noon.

“Come on, come on, come on!!” Frustration filled the fae as he clawed through the mist as if the action would reveal his lost son.

Alas...

“Augh!”

The anguished cry tore from his throat as the father fell to his knees.

S L A M !

He pounded a fist into the dry soil as his legs hit the ground. “FUCK!”

As the man's fingers dug into the dirt, a few tear drops escaped his eyes, his body shaking from frustration.

He was so close!  He was so close,  and yet—and yet…

Hick, sob, hick…

Lilia slumped forward, over weighed by grief.

“F--fuck...”

~*~

Once he regained himself, Lilia called Idia. Well, sort of.

He called Sebek, who took the phone to Idia, apparently breaking his door down to do so. The other was not at all pleased.

“Sorry about that!” Lilia apologized, cutting short the complaints. Had he not been so emotionally exhausted, Lilia would have laughed or found some amusement in the situation. “But I had something I really needed to ask.”

Lilia then went on to explain the appearance of the Phantom and its odd actions. Lilia wasn’t familiar with Phantoms, but he knew them to be aggressive. Silver’s Phantom, on the other hand, took one look at him before fleeing.

Idia sighed sadly.

“So, even Silver…” he mumbled. He trailed off before returning to the topic.

“It’s rare, but it’s not, like, unheard of for Phantoms not to attack,” Idia explained. “There are some who are, well, cowards and will choose to run instead. From what we can figure, it depends on how the person who blots over handles stress.

“Like, Riddle has a temper, so when he's pissed, he lashes out at everybody.” Lilia heard the story of Riddle’s blot from Carter and how it acted like a large child throwing a tantrum. Even Malleus’ Phantom had lasted out like a beast in pure rage. But Silver wasn’t like that.

Yes, the teen got mad and upset. He would occasionally yell as well, as rare as it happened. But when he was truly upset to the point his heart broke he ran.

‘Just like when he found out we weren’t related…’ Lilia closed his eyes as he recalled the memory and the child’s broken expression.

“ So… you’re not my father?”  Lilia had been so stunned not by the question but by the torment on Silver’s face as the words were muttered through trembling lips.

Lilia flinched as a metaphorical dagger pierced his soul. That same anguish was on his face in the dream world, his body shaking like it had as a child.

“ Father… I—I…”  Lilia’s heart broke.

‘Oh, Silver…’ After everything that happened, it was no surprise that Silver was distraught to the point where he must have felt like he was drowning. However, it took more than an emotional state to blot everyone over.

The teenager would have had to have used a lot of magic. The broom ride would have been tiring but not enough—

Then Lilia realized; ‘Meet in a Dream.’ Silver Unique magic.

Silver used that spell for who knows how long to save everyone. He also took travelers with him to several dreams. So, even though his body was resting, it must have taken a toll on his mental state and mana. And then with everything he had discovered and gone through…

A knot twisted in his stomach as his chest became heavy.

‘The reason Silver blotted over was…’ Because of him. Because Silver wanted to save everyone from his mistakes--

Lila’s grip shook till he tightened it on his phone.

“Then what about the Phantom in this case?” he asked Idia, keeping his voice firm. “Are you saying it’s not dangerous?” It wasn’t Idia’s voice he heard next.

“Well?! Answer him!”

“Eep! Stop shaking me!” Ah. Lilia forgot Sebek was there. From what he could hear, Sebek had become quite emotional about Silver’s state. Knowing Sebek, Lilia was surprised Sebek held back this long.

“Sebek, control yourself,” Lilia ordered. “Idia; is the Phantom dangerous?” There was an exasperated groan from the other side as Idia attempted to pull himself together.

“Uggghhh...Diasomnia...can’t deal…” He took another moment to compose, but Sebek barked something, and Idia jumped into his answer finally.

“Eep! Kinda?!” He (and Lilia) made Sebek back off before going into more detail. “They’re usually pretty harmless till cornered. Then they lash out like a trapped rat, ya know?” Then the Shroud sighed heavily as if something heavy was dropped on him.“The real issue is that while it's running the life is still being drained from its host.” Lilia’s skin nearly went transparent.

‘ Shit! ’ He forgot that. He forgot that a phantom drained its host of their life force.

Which meant that even if Silver was alive now--

“You mean… Silver’s going to die?” Sebek’s question turned the whole world static. He didn’t even hear Idia’s response.

Die, die, Silver? His Silver? His son? No! No, no, no!

“Hey, Lila? Ortho’s contacted STYX officers. They’re sending over a troop. It would--” Lilia hung up, his heart racing in his ears as he started running.

His jaw clenched as he breathed hard through his nose, his eyes growing wild. He didn’t know what would happen from here on out, but he knew this;

Silver was NOT going to die!

#mine #twst #twisted wonderland #twst silver #silver twst #silver vanrouge #lilia vanrouge #silver twisted wonderland #lilia twisted wonderland #lilia twst #twst lilia #twst diasomnia #twst runaway #twst fanfic

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Soft Cuddles

Today is my wedding day, yes, really.

Whatever, here is today's Novemberstory because I am nothing if not obsessive <3

Characters: Glorfindel and a whole lot of other people

Words: 1 655

Warnings: many cuddles, little sad, cultural differences

Glorfindel had learned a good many things that others could never even imagine—he had wrestled a Balrog, he had known death and re-embodiment, and he had met the mighty Valar after the Great Sundering of the Doom of the Ñoldor.

Dark and terrible were many of his experiences and haunted his wisdom, but—on some days—he considered them a welcome price to pay for the immeasurably beautiful pieces of knowledge that were his own.

“Come here,” he whispered and slung his arms around Erestor who was in a particularly foul mood on this misty morning.

As soon as the solid warmth of his strong body seeped into the tender flesh and delicate bones of his lover, Glorfindel felt him relax against his chest and released a shivering, relieved sigh of his own.

“How did you—” Erestor murmured, ashamed now of a need he did not share with most of his peers.

“I once had the honour of watching over Eärendil,” the golden-haired revenant explained in soothing accents. “I myself was raised in a gaggle of elflings—kin and friends—and we grew too fast and were too carefree in our blessed serenity to ever cling to our parents overmuch.”

Picking his temperamental colleague up, Glorfindel carried him over to a window to cradle him on his lap while whispering his most precious confessions into his perfectly shaped ear.

“Eärendil was the first child I had seen in a long time, and he was different. He yearned to be held, carried, hugged, and Eru knows, I was eager and happy to comply. I seem to recall now that there must have been days when I did not set the boy down for a single moment—I’d even hide from his parents just so they could not snatch him away from me.” He gave a heavy sigh of regret and longing at the bittersweet memory of the soft hair and pealing laughter of his little protégé.

“Those were different times, and the safety of the Hidden Kingdom was a fraught, ever-threatened dream,” he went on in a voice that grew increasingly hollow with pain.

“Later, oh so much later, I came here to find that Elrond—my very own darling prince’s son—harboured much the same needs and desires as his father, and so did his children in turn.”

“Glorfindel,” Erestor gasped. “Are you telling me that you sneak around hugging not only children but grown Elves? Our Lord? His formidable sons? His noble daughter?”

Shrugging sheepishly, Glorfindel adjusted his hold on Erestor’s frame and settled his chin against the crown of his dark-haired head tenderly.

“I have the arms for that,” he said, a hint of insecurity and guilt sneaking into his tone. “You cannot imagine the relief and the joy I’ve drawn from the knowledge that the strong build that makes me an excellent fighter also allows me to offer comforting embraces. We all need redemption sometimes.”

“You are indeed very good at this,” Erestor mumbled sleepily. “I feel unafraid and soothed by the way you hold me tight. Maybe, we should make this a generally accepted behaviour, so you don’t have to do it in secret, and I don’t have to feel so embarrassed about enjoying hugs so much?”

“That is a stellar idea,” Glorfindel replied and smiled blissfully at the empty room.

“Safe travels!” Elladan and Elrohir stood at the gates, smiling brightly at Glorfindel as he led his horse by the reins.

“Erestor will be insufferable,” Arwen groaned, her beautiful face puckered with dread. “He always is when you’re away.”

Leaning closer to her until his cheek touched hers ever so lightly, Glorfindel whispered into her ear that she should try hugging him every now and then.

“Does he not smell like dust and death?” Elrohir joked but regained his composure immediately when a hard, unamused glare hit him.

Smiling wickedly, Arwen seemed to consider that new-found piece of information for a moment and then nodded slowly.

“Yes,” she said, “that, I can do. I remember quite well how you used to rock me in your arms, singing songs that were highly inappropriate but eminently entertaining for an elfling such as I was.”

“Don’t let your father hear you,” Glorfindel squeaked, and—sweeping the tall, graceful lady into his arms—he threw her into the air until she was breathless with laughter.

“You,” she wheezed, “are one of my best childhood memories.”

“And ours,” the twins added; they were checking Glorfindel’s pack and saddle like they always had, and he gave them the same serious, grateful smile they remembered from the time when he still had had to hold them aloft so they could tug at various straps and nod ponderously.

“Your childhood,” he replied as he hoisted himself onto the back of his trusty steed, “is one of my most cherished recollections as well. Be kind to Erestor, and I shall be back before you even have time to miss me.”

As he looked back at the proud descendants of his dearly missed Eärendil, his heart was full, and he whistled a wistful song as he rode out to honour a promise he had once given.

“Welcome to our—my father’s realm,” Legolas laughed, scratching his head sheepishly.

“Have you been back long?” Glorfindel asked, interested, and beamed when a burly, stout frame moved into view.

“The Lord of the Glittering Caves,” he exclaimed, genuinely happy to find Gimli in good health; they had conversed but very briefly before the Council in Imladris, but Glorfindel had listened to his tales with rapt interest.

At that time, he had also been invited to visit the Greenwood Realm—after the threatening shadow had been vanquished—and Glorfindel had ever been one to honour the word he had given.

The trees were different here, he thought, dark, old, and—if he was not very much mistaken—as ill-tempered as his very own lover could be at times.

“I shall have a small repast brought up,” Legolas cheered, excited to share the much-doubted and abnegated hospitality of his native kingdom with honoured guests.

Waiting in relaxed expectation, Glorfindel soon found out that Lord Gimli had as many questions about the Elven folk—he apparently only believed half of what Legolas told him on pure principle—as Glorfindel had about the elusive Khâzad.

“Are you all as stuffy as his father?” Gimli asked, jabbing a well-spiced drumstick forcefully into the quiet, fragrant night air. “I know my friend here is quite a jokester, but is the average Elf more like King Thranduil or more like Legolas?”

Glorfindel’s eyes grew round with surprise, and he cocked his head—making the small, festive bells braided into his hair jingle—and gave the matter some thought before answering.

“As you can clearly see,” he said, giving his hair another merry toss, “not all of us are very stern and dignified. As for the average elf—”

He fell silent and shuddered. “There—thankfully—is no such thing. I would say that King Thranduil can, at times, be the most formal and pompous of those who remain, but, then again, most of the High Lords and Ladies are undoubtedly very impressive.”

“Legolas—”

“Has time to become all that,” Glorfindel interrupted kindly. “At the same time, I’ve lived a very long time, and it has never happened for me, so don’t take my word for it.”

As the evening progressed, and the wine flowed, Glorfindel was soon overcome by a flood of longing when he thought of his loved ones in Imladris.

“Is he sad? Will he die now?” Gimli asked Legolas in a slightly alarmed tone.

“No,” Legolas laughed. “I dare say Lord Glorfindel is homesick.”

“Aren’t you pointy-eared tree-huggers always melancholy and yearning for some lost place?” Gimli commented dryly, scratching his beard and setting aside the wetting stone he had been passing over his axe in practised, regular movements.

“Can we help, Lord Glorfindel?” Legolas then inquired politely, ready to sneak into his father’s private reserve to fetch some of the rarer and more precious treats this Kingdom had to offer.

Startled by his words, Glorfindel was quick to wave aside their touching concerns.

“D’ya need a hug, Elf?” Gimli asked after having observed Glorfindel for a moment in contemplative silence. “I know your kind usually does not hold with that kind of physical affection—drastic, they’d call it, I am sure—but you look like you could do with one.”

To his surprise and delight, Glorfindel eagerly accepted that offer and extended his arms to welcome the strong, densely muscled arms that were slung around his midriff like ropes of braided steel.

“I…I find that I have been changed by the people around me,” he explained with an apologetic smile; even though he was not typically one to feel uncomfortable or even ashamed about the way he led his life, he felt nevertheless that he owed the prince of the realm an explanation for his highly unusual, nay even inappropriate, behaviour.

“Oh,” Legolas chuckled. “No need to justify this to me. After the tragic loss of my mother, my father would hug and cuddle me often, and I do not hesitate to admit that Gimli and I quite enjoy exchanging physical gestures of affection.”

“Skinny as a twig,” Gimli muttered good-humouredly. “All skin and bones.”

“Yes,” Legolas added, nodding wisely. “My dearest friend also insists on feeding me well—he is inordinately worried about my well-being.”

Eyebrows rising in bewilderment, Glorfindel wanted to object that—if anything—it was incumbent on Legolas to tend to the various vital needs of a being so woefully prone to illness and death, but his host almost imperceptibly shook his head.

“We all have our ways of expressing affection and support,” Legolas said and stretched out on the soft forest floor with a deep sigh. “And I, for one, think all of them are wonderful!”

Thank you so much for reading <3

-> Masterlist for November (by @cilil)

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #November #Nanowrimo2023 #Glorfindel #Elrond #Erestor #Glorestor #Elladan #Elrohir #Legolas #Gimli #Legolas x Gimli #Soft cuddles

[strawurberries]

Hoi-hoi ✨ my lovely! Tis I! 🍰-anon! I had to join your event and give you some love!

Your awesome and well done getting though exam season (it's always awful), you've done brilliantly.

May I request 2 + 13 from the cherry section for either Vash or Knives, please?

Whichever one your comfortable writing for

Knives: "Obey"

Authors note: Cake anon! I missed you :( Thank you so much!! I'm so glad for exams to finally be over. I hope you enjoy this drabble :)

Warnings: Explicit sexual content

“Open your mouth,” he tugged on their hair, making them lean forward a little too far, back arched and knees red from kneeling on the ground for so long. They whined and shifted, trying to take the weight off their cold, bruised legs. He sneered and tugged harder, “did I say you could move?”

“No,” they huffed, “but it hurts.” Through half-lidded eyes they peered up, pupils dilated so thickly it seemed as if they had nothing but desire in their poor, primitive, little mind. So easily pleased and so easily handled—he couldn’t ask for anything better. . . well, perhaps, he would like them to listen like the good little doll they were supposed to be. But, on the other hand, all the fun was in making them listen. 

“I don’t care.” He raised their head up, neck stretching deliciously, revealing red hickeys and fading bruises in the shape of his hand. The sight almost made him grin—almost. He had tried to pace himself this time, taking his time as he explored and kneaded their body. They could wait for their pleasure until he was satisfied with his. “You can take it.”

They whined, a high pitched sound leaving their swollen lips. “Please~ I’m tired.” They wiggled again, chest rising and falling heavily. “Jus’ let me sit. . . my knees hurt.”

“Obey,” he roughly grabbed their chin, tilting their head as he inspected them, “and I’ll think about it.” For as wretched as humans are, this one, he thought, wasn’t a terrible sight to look at—especially when they were on their knees, begging and crying for release. Oh. . . that view? It made him feel so erratically twisted. A small idea started to form in his mind.

They hummed and leaned into his rough touch, any sensation better than the throbbing ache of their stiff body. “I will.”

He scoffed, “you know what to say.”

“I’ll obey, Master.”

He tugged them forward, nose pressed against the delicious tightness of his pants, “then Open. Your. Mouth.”

They pouted but complied, slowly separating their lips as they held eye contact. They stuck their tongue out, drool dripping down their chin. With both hands bound behind their back they had no way of cleaning themselves, having to submit to the humiliation. 

“Disgusting,” he muttered, his hand finding its way back to their hair. “You’re filthy, a whore.” The other hand went to quickly unbuckle his pants, mind finally deciding on a proper punishment for his toy’s little banter of disobedience. 

They nodded, chest starting to rise frantically as they rubbed their legs together to get any sense of friction. A buck of their hips and they were silenced, his cock shoved into their mouth quicker than they could process. Trained on what to do, his pleasure the first and only thing of importance, they hollowed their cheeks and tried their best not to gag. 

He gave a small smile at the sight of them trying their best to be a good little cocksleeve, but he wasn’t going to let this be that easy. “Stop.”

They paused and looked up, jaw already starting to ache. A questioning look in their eyes gave away every little desire that they harbored.

“I want to sit here for a while,” he tugged on their hair, “teach you a lesson about talking back.” A warm, pleasurable throb ached in the pit of his belly but that could wait. The one thing that was better than using his toy however he pleased, was watching as his plaything slowly devolved and begged to be used.

Their eyes widened and they tried to complain but gagged. The noise that echoed up their throat made him clench his jaw, pulling their hair once more. He gave a condescending smile, “that was another minute right there. Silent and still, or else I’ll make you kneel there all day.”

They shuffled and pressed their legs together at the idea of his threat.

“Revolting,” his other hand trailed down to their neck, pressing lightly on the point of skin where he could feel their pulse. “You liked that?”

They whined, tears starting to prick at the corner of their eyes.  “Another minute,” he mused, “you must really be enjoying this. Pathetic.”

#Knives x reader #knives x you #knives x y/n #Million knives x reader #million knives x you #million knives x y/n #knives #million knives #trigun #trigun x reader #trigun x you #trigun x y/n #knives smut #million knives smut #Strawberry writes #100 follower special

[clarepreed]

Saving Mitchell

Story Content and Summary - 5,200 words. Larissa and Mitchell are at home recovering when Mitchell chokes on a piece of cantaloupe, leaving no one but a one-armed Larissa to help him. Explicit sex, choking, on-site resuscitation. ♂️

--

Mitchell, a month after the events of Protect

Mitchell approached Larissa’s bedside with measured steps, reminding himself that he was just waking her up for breakfast and that everything was okay. There was no need to rush to her side and shake her awake; in fact, doing so would startle her and cause her pain. So he walked at a normal pace, opening the curtains as he passed them, then sitting down next to her sleeping form.

She stirred, taking a deep breath and drawing up her good arm to cover her eyes. Her cheeks were pink with health, and he could see that the rise and fall of her chest was even. If it weren’t for her sling, Larissa looked as though nothing had happened at all.

Mitchell reached out and rested his hand on her stomach. “Hey, baby. It’s time to get up.”

“Oohhh…” Larissa groaned and peeked out at him from under her arm. “Really?”

“Really.” He leaned forward and gave her a soft kiss. “I wouldn’t mind if you went back to sleep, baby. I’m only waking you up because you asked me to.”

“I know. Thank you for being my better self this morning.” Larissa uncovered her face, looking up at him with a thoughtful expression. “Are you okay?”

Mitchell brushed a strand of hair from her face, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. Larissa captured his hand and kissed his palm.

“I’m okay,” she said, pulling his hand down to curl between her breasts. “My arm hurts, but I’m okay. Are you okay?”

Mitchell sighed, his face pulling into a grimace. “No. I… Larissa, I still have some anxiety. Specifically, about them not replacing your ICD.”

“Help me sit up,” she said, her face a mask of compassion. “I want to talk to you face-to-face. Please.”

Mitchell stood long enough to bring his other arm behind her back, pulling her up with the hand she clutched to her chest. Then he sat back down with her, squeezing her hand when she lowered it to her lap.

“I’m sorry you’re anxious,” she began, squeezing his hand in return. “I thought you probably were.”

“You’re anxious, too.”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m on sleeping medication and daytime anxiety pills. Which,” she raised an eyebrow at him. “You could also be on.”

Mitchell swallowed hard. “I don’t want to be incapacitated if you need me.”

“And I don’t want you to be miserable, honey.”

He shook his head. “Larissa, I’m not miserable. Most of the time I’m so happy… it’s just at certain moments…”

“When I’m sleeping.”

“Yes. I have terrible memories…” Mitchell shivered, holding her gaze despite the temptation to drop his eyes.

“We have to remember that this is why I was in the hospital so long. They ran a lot of tests. The only reason I arrested this time was because of blood loss. That would have happened to anyone who lost that much blood.” Larissa gave him a shaky smile. “Remember, honey. They said my heart is actually in much better shape than it was.”

“I know. My logical side knows.”

“Tell me about your illogical side.”

Mitchell rubbed his face with his free hand. “Do you really want to hear it? You’ve got a lot on your plate. I don’t want to make your own trauma worse.”

“Honey, I wouldn’t ask you to tell me if I didn’t think I could take it. And if I can’t, that’s not your fault.” She shifted her leg under the covers, rubbing her knee against his thigh. “Tell me.”

Mitchell dropped his hand to her leg, rubbing it in silence for a while before he mustered up the ability to speak. When he did, his voice came out hushed, in a tone even he didn’t recognize.

“My illogical side sees you on the floor of the hotel on our honeymoon. You’re gasping and contorting with agonal breaths. When those stop, you look dead. I beat your heart for you until help arrived, and it wasn’t enough. The hotel provided a doctor, and it wasn’t enough. We needed a doctor and two paramedics, drugs, oxygen, a defibrillator, pacing pads, and even then you were barely alive. They told me you’d probably die before dawn. Then they told me, when you didn’t die, not to expect much. When you woke up, I was so happy. But then you were confused and quiet and not yourself. I was scared that the you I had just married might not come back.” Mitchell’s throat spasmed, and he closed his eyes, dislodging a single unexpected tear. “Every moment together is a gift, baby. I just don’t want to lose you.”

Larissa didn’t speak, long enough that he peeled open his eyes to look at her. Her cheeks were tear-stained, and she was looking at him with a heartbreaking expression of love and sorrow.

“I’m sorry,” Mitchell whispered, squeezing her leg. “I know that’s a lot to put on the person who went through it.”

She cleared her throat and shook her head. Her voice came out quiet and husky. “Mitchell, I promise you that if I have any hint at all of a problem… any hint at all… An arrhythmia, difficulty breathing that my inhaler doesn’t help, heart attack signs, anything… I will call the cardiologist. They have an emergency line. I won’t risk it, okay?”

“Okay.” Mitchell scooted closer and cupped her cheek. “I trust you. You know what trouble feels like.”

“We both do.”

Mitchell leaned in and kissed her forehead. “And I can always listen for trouble myself.” He smiled against her skin, then dipped his head to kiss her mouth.

Larissa kissed him back for a few seconds and then said: “Ooh. Hang on.”

To his amusement, she released his hand and reached for the nightstand drawer. He dropped his hand back to her leg, pressing it to the mattress. “You’re going to fall over, baby. What do you need?”

“The Listerine strips. Please.”

“They still make those things? Ha! I always ended up with five or six on accident and then my eyes would run, and my nose…”

Larissa poked him in the ribs. “Mitchell. I want to kiss you without my cotton mouth killing your appetite.”

Larissa

Mitchell laughed and obliged her, handing her the little green box without further comment. She took what she hoped was one piece of dissolving film and popped it into her mouth, eyes immediately watering. Mitchell laughed again and dropped the case into the nightstand drawer.

“Looks like at least four strips,” he said, shaking his head. “And on an empty stomach, too.”

Larissa swallowed and coughed. “They’re so gross, but so good at what they do.”

“Does that mean I can kiss you now?” He leaned in close, so close she couldn’t focus on his face, his breath melding with hers.

Larissa leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. His lips felt smooth, though she quickly felt his stubble prickle the skin around her mouth. Then his lips parted, and she gave him her tongue.

They hadn’t kissed like this since they’d been shot, and she hadn’t realized how much she needed it. Her body lit up, her bones aching with the need of him. Larissa slipped her hand underneath his t-shirt, stroking his chest hair. His hands were in her hair, caressing her face, touching her waist, careful not to jostle her injured arm.

She leaned back, and he came with her, breaking the kiss only to trail more kisses down her neck and across the tops of her breasts. His fingers trailed over the front of her satin nightgown, tracing her erect nipples. He slid lower and pressed a kiss to each of them through the fabric. Larissa let out a gasp.

Then he stopped, gazing up at her.

“What?” she asked. “What is it?”

Mitchell ran his finger between her breasts and down to the dip of her navel. “Your arm, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Larissa groaned. An ache had already started between her thighs, and she knew if he touched her there, he would find her wet. “Mitchell, if you don’t finish what you started, I will have to take care of myself one-handed.”

He ran his hand up to her right breast, circling her nipple through the satin. “You’re sure?”

Her muscles pulsated, but she made herself take a measured breath. One that happened to make her breasts swell. She cocked her head at him. “Unless you don’t want to?”

“Oh, I want to.” Mitchell reached down and stripped the covers from her body, then ran his hand up the inside of one of her legs. He stopped just above her knee, gripping her thigh and rubbing his thumb deep into the muscle. “I want to. A lot.”

“Take off your clothes,” she told him. “I want to look at you.”

Mitchell waggled his eyebrows at her, but he complied, releasing her leg and pulling back. She watched him strip his t-shirt off, then stand to remove his lounge pants and boxer briefs. Then he stood by the bed for her, hands at his side, palms up. The first thing she noticed was his semi. Then her eyes landed on the tender-looking pink scar across the right side of his ribcage.

“You be careful with yourself, too,” she murmured. Then: “Come closer.”

Mitchell took a few steps along the side of the bed. Larissa kissed her fingertips and reached out, gently touching his scar. He bent and pressed his lips to the upper edge of the scar on her chest, only just visible around the straps of her nightgown and the sling. 

“Let’s scoot you closer to the middle of the bed,” he said, grinning. “I don’t want to fall off.”

“I’ve got it, honey.” Larissa used her good hand and her legs to push off the mattress and carefully settled herself near the center. Then she reached down and gathered up the nightgown in her hand, pulling it up her thighs. Mitchell helped her pull it up the rest of the way. They slipped her good arm out of the gown, then her head, then pooled the fabric on top of the sling.

Mitchell kissed her, then eased himself down on top of her, nudging her thighs apart with his knee. She still wore her panties, and he pressed his hardening cock against the damp fabric. He was careful not to move her injured arm, propping himself up with his elbow on the other side and using his right hand to cup her cheek. He held her face in place, his eyes on hers as he pumped his hips against her.

Larissa bent her knees, angling her cloth-covered slit against his cock and subtlely thrusting her hips up toward him. “Kiss me,” she whispered.

He did, though first he gently nipped and suckled her bottom lip. Then his tongue plunged deep, his mouth swallowing her moan as he ground into her. Larissa reached down with her uninjured arm and clutched at his ass, her fingernails lightly biting into his skin.

She wished she could see them in a mirror, the long lines of their bodies writhing against each other, her nails marking him with half moons. Mitchell reached down and cupped her ass, pulling her pelvis tighter against his. A quiet “uh, uh, uh…” slipped out, driven out of her by the motion of what was now a rock hard cock.

“I want you inside me,” Larissa gasped. Mitchell wasted no time, simply pulling her underwear to the side and sheathing himself in her warmth. Larissa’s breath left her in a rush and she hooked her legs around him. 

Mitchell reached up and braced himself on the headboard, moving in and over Larissa with strength and care. She reached up and ran her fingers through his chest hair.

Larissa knew neither of them would last long; it had been a long time for the two of them. Her body was already winding itself up, and she could tell by Mitchell’s closed eyes and determined look he was struggling to hang on. She slipped her hand between them to her clit, rubbing circles as Mitchell moved slow and deep.

Larissa took a breath and let it out as a moan. “I’m close! God, you feel so good.”

Mitchell shuddered, and his eyes popped open. He dipped his head and caught her open mouth with his, air briefly exchanging between them before his tongue met hers. Larissa planted her left foot on the bed and slid her right leg higher up his back, opening herself wide. 

She broke their kiss with a gasp, and he tipped his head back, a grunt of barely repressed pleasure passing through his lips.

She felt a wave of sensation start in her pelvic floor and shoot up to her clit. It coiled in her belly, spread down the back of her legs and into her toes, curling them. Her back arched, and she cried out. As her muscles pulsated, she felt Mitchell’s rhythm grow more and more erratic until he stiffened above her. His hips jerked against hers a few more times, moaning, his warmth pooling deep inside.

Mitchell’s arms trembled visibly as he eased himself out of and off of her, then lowered himself beside her. She cuddled against him as best she could without tugging on her sore arm, turning her face up toward his. He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, her lips.

“I love you so much, Larissa,” he murmured, sounding sleepy as he nuzzled into her neck.

“I love you so much.” She ran her knuckles up and down his skin, tracing his golden happy trail. “Always.”

 Mitchell

After making sure Larissa was dressed and able to get herself to the toilet, Mitchell padded into the kitchen, groggy with satisfaction but hungry enough not to go lay back down. He’d done some breakfast prep earlier: cutting fruit, setting the table, measuring out the dry ingredients for Belgian waffles. He set the oven to preheat, pulled out the mini waffle iron, and started a pot of coffee.

Next, he got the pack of bacon and the plastic wrap-covered bowl of fruit out of the refrigerator. He took a few minutes to lay the bacon out on a baking sheet, then washed his hands.

He needed to get a few more ingredients out of the refrigerator for the waffles, but his stomach growled, so he reached for the bowl of fruit instead. Peeling back the plastic wrap, he reached inside and plucked out a cube of cantaloupe. As he turned back toward the refrigerator, he popped the cantaloupe into his mouth.

It immediately fell into the back of his throat, making him cough and gag. Mitchell lurched toward the sink to spit, drawing an involuntary breath. The cantaloupe sank further, plugging his airway, and he shoved his fingers into his mouth in a last-ditch attempt to reach the obstruction before he had a serious problem.

Mitchell tried for several seconds and then rammed his abdomen into the edge of the countertop, painfully bending himself over the lip. The fruit didn’t budge.

I need help!

“Mitchell?” Larissa’s voice from behind him. He jerked himself around to face her, hands at his throat, and her quizzical expression fell to one of concern, then terrible understanding. “Oh my God!”

Mitchell staggered across to the island, shoving the corner into his upper abdomen. Pain in his stomach became pressure in his chest, neck, and face. He felt Larissa come up behind him, her good hand coming down hard between his shoulder blades. He heard her grunt and then her balled fist came down on his back, beating several times until she choked out: “Mitchell, I have to call 911!”

Can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe…

Larissa started around the island, headed for the bedroom until she spotted his phone on the counter.

Mitchell backed away from the counter and clasped his hands together, desperately trying to perform abdominal thrusts on himself. His heartbeat thundered in his ears and he felt as though his watery eyes might pop. He could hear the fear in Larissa’s voice as she spoke to the 911 operator, though her words were muffled by the sound of his failing heart.

I’m sorry. So stupid.

Then she was behind him again, and her hand balled in the back of his shirt. She yanked him backward, nearly throwing him off-balance. He was vaguely aware of her sling falling to the floor. Her good arm went around his middle and she tried to pull her bad arm to join the good, only to make an awful, pained sound in his ear. Mitchell lurched forward again, tearing himself out of her grasp.

“FUCK! I c-can’t, my arm! Mitchell, LIE DOWN!”

…breathe death Larissa love…

Mitchell staggered, drool running down his chin. His vision dimmed as Larissa stood in front of him, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him down. He couldn’t understand her anymore, not what she wanted, not what she was saying to him. He stumbled past her without an awareness of where he was going or what he would do when he got there. 

Larissa moved in front of him again, her mouth moving, tears streaming down her face. He had a sensation of falling and everything went black.

Larissa

“MITCHELL! LIE DOWN! I THINK I CAN HELP YOU!” Larissa screamed at him, her rising panic giving way to abject terror. She pulled on his arm, trying to guide him toward the floor. When she looked at his face, however, she realized he was beyond understanding her. He staggered around, hands raking items off the island and then clutching at the air. As she watched, his purple face washed gray and his eyes rolled back in his head. A sob wracked her body. “NO!”

His knees folded, and he flopped boneless toward the floor. She grabbed him instinctively with both hands and a white hot pain tore up her injured arm. His limp body pulled hers down with him and they landed hard in a tangle of limbs.

“M-Mitchell…” His name tore out of her in a sob. Larissa tried to shake off the pain in her arm, but it was so strong that it set her teeth on edge and made her nauseated. She detached herself from Mitchell, tears streaming down her face and her breath coming in pants. A glance at his face nearly undid her; he was gray-purple, stubble glittering with drool, eyes red and staring up at the ceiling. 

Cradling her injured arm against her stomach, Larissa climbed on top of him and pressed the heel of her good hand just above his belly button. Grunting, she shoved her hand in and up. His shoulders shrugged, but she didn’t hear any air escaping. 

“Honey, please… please, please…”

Larissa shoved her hand into Mitchell three more times before bracing herself on his chest with her good arm. She drew her right knee up and pressed it hard into his upper abdomen. Her eyes catalogued the movement of his body as she tried to judge if this was enough force. 

Not hard enough!

Larissa shoved herself to her feet above him, stepped between his legs, and then dropped, landing hard on her knee and driving it into him with such force that his body heaved. She heard a gagging sound and a huff of air.

“MITCHELL!” Larissa straddled him and leaned down, forcing his mouth open. In the back of his throat, she spotted a chunk of melon. Tipping his head to the side, she swept her fingers between his teeth and clearing the melon. It dropped into a pool of saliva. Larissa turned his face back to the ceiling and slipped her hand under his neck, jerking open his airway. Then she laid herself down the length of his body and leaned her ear close to his lips.

 The air between them was agonizing in its stillness. “NO! He’s not breathing!”

Larissa pinched his nose closed and sealed her mouth over his, forcing a lungful of air in and making his chest rise. He stared up at her with empty eyes, tears caught in his long lashes. Her own throat felt tight, restricted as she drew in another breath to give her husband.

“Ma’am?” The sound of the operator cut through Larissa’s panic. “Are you willing to do chest compressions?”

Mitchell’s chest fell and Larissa sat upright. She placed the heel of her right hand on the lower half of his sternum. “I’m trying now, but I only have one hand to use! We need the paramedics!”

Larissa forced her body weight over her single straight arm, trying to force his sternum down to the appropriate depth. She couldn’t be sure, but it seemed to her like she accomplished nothing. She let out a scream of anguish and rage and heaved her weight into him again. His ribcage sank about an inch.

“MITCHELL!” She was losing what remained of her composure, the sliver that tied her to reality.

He’s going to die because I can’t help him!

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Mitchell, of course, didn’t respond. He lay silent, possibly dead, on the floor in front of her. His staring eyes and gaping blue mouth made him looked surprised. Larissa dragged her injured arm into position and stacked her hands together, trying not to think of the plates and screws holding her humerus together. Then she shoved down hard into his ribcage. His sternum sank down, and his stomach lifted. And Larissa screamed from the pain.

She nearly collapsed on top of him as her bad arm went alternate parts numb and ice cold with pain. Panting and gasping, Larissa kept the heel of her good hand pressed to his chest and leaned her weight over her hand. It took her several tries before she figured out how to give effective one-handed chest compressions, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it up long. Larissa gasped as she compressed Mitchell’s chest, her single hand sinking his sternum down and making his stomach pop beneath his shirt.

“…nine, ten, eleven…” Her voice trailed off, though she continued chest compressions. Her chest and throat fell tight, and when she spoke, she heard herself wheeze.

Not now. Fuck you, not now!

…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!

Larissa leaned down and opened Mitchell’s mouth before wrapping her hand around to pinch Mitchell’s nostrils. She sealed her lips over his, giving him what breath she had despite the tension in her throat and chest. Her nose ran, and her tears dropped on his face.

Larissa gave him another breath, and to her surprise, Mitchell moved. As she watched, his mouth gaped open and his chest jerked.

Real breath or agonal breath? Real breath or—

Larissa sealed his mouth again and gave him her diminishing breath. Mitchell let it out with a gasp, and she released his nose, her eyes darting back and forth across his face.

“Mitchell?” Her voice trembled. Mitchell’s eyes blinked and shifted, though they still didn’t focus. Larissa pressed her shaking fingers to his carotid artery, her own breath still while she waited. 

His blood pulsed rapidly against her fingers.

Larissa let out another sob and then gasped: “Mitchell! Honey, take a breath!”

His eyes went half-lidded, and his chin pulled to the side. She could see the muscles in his chest and throat working, though she couldn’t tell if he was bringing in any air. As she watched, his back bowed up off the floor.

“Mitchell! Breathe!” Larissa leaned down again and pressed her mouth to his, blowing as much air as she could into his lungs. She did this several more times, her vision going staticky as she never quite caught her breath. Mitchell accepted the breaths without resistance, though his hands and mouth moved and twitched.

Then Mitchell gasped in a breath. It left him as a cough, but she watched him draw a second and third breath. His eyelids fluttered and his arms and legs moved restlessly.

“You’re okay, honey! Just keep breathing, okay? An ambulance is coming, but I think the worst is over…”

Mitchell’s eyes focused on her and his hands came up, closing hard on her arms just above her elbows. Larissa let out an involuntary cry of pain, nearly collapsing on top of him. He released her immediately, his face contorting with confusion. Larissa’s eyes blurred with tears, and she heard him croak: “Larissa? What… happened?”

“Ma’am?” a tinny voice cut in. “Is the patient breathing? The ambulance is on-site—”

Loud thumping from the front door drew her attention, and Larissa gasped: “You choked! Mitchell, I have to g-go let the m-medics in…”

Mitchell

“Mitchell! BREATHE!” Larissa’s choked, wheezy voice broke through his haze.

He wanted to breathe. His body was spasming with the need of it. He couldn’t move on his own, however, and that included drawing breath.

He felt Larissa pinch off his nose and cover his mouth with hers. A rush of warm air flooded his mouth and his airway, inflating his lungs and lifting his chest. He felt the air flow back out of him, and then her mouth sealed over his again. The breath flowed in and out, accompanied by sniffles and wheezes from Larissa and the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

Larissa…

Something about the hitch in her breathing stirred feelings inside him beyond his air hunger. 

Take a breath! She needs you to breathe!

He tried. His mouth worked and his hands jerked. Larissa kept breathing for him, over and over again. He felt her tears drip onto his face.

Then his efforts paid off. He sucked in a breath, which immediately made him cough and gag. As he lay on the floor, he faded in and out of consciousness, disoriented and trying to swim back up toward Larissa’s voice.

“…keep breathing, okay? An ambulance is coming, but I think the worst is over…”

His eyes focused on her shape above him. The terror on her face matched what he was feeling, and he reached for her, his hands gripping her arms. To his confusion and horror, Larissa twisted in his hands, her eyes rolling up toward the ceiling as she let out a loud cry of pain. 

Mitchell released her arms, blinking up at her in confusion as she wept and panted above him. “Larissa,” he muttered hoarsely. “What… happened?”

A disembodied voice caught his attention. “—ambulance is on-site—”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Larissa was still making keening noises, evidently driven beyond her ability to calm down. She gasped out: “You choked! Mitchell, I have to g-go let the m-medics in…”

She clambered to her feet, nearly tripping over him as she fled the room.

Mitchell remained on the floor, his eyes roving the ceiling as he concentrated on breathing. He hurt from his throat down to his navel; a bruised feeling, like he’d been beaten and left swollen.

Choked?

His mind drifted to the possibility of having been strangled, but that didn’t seem right.

“…choked, but he’s… b-breathing… now.” Larissa’s weak, teary voice cut through his reverie, and two unfamiliar people in uniform leaned into his line of sight. 

She still sounds so scared. I just need a minute and I’ll let her know I’m okay…

“Sir?” one medic asked, kneeling by Mitchell’s head. “What’s your name?”

“Mitchell.” His throat felt scratchy. “I could use some water.”

The sound of someone vomiting drew his attention away from the medic, and Mitchell pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking for the source. 

Larissa bent over the kitchen trash can, clutching her injured arm and spitting up bile. Mitchell sat the rest of the way up, accepting help from the second medic and trying not to wince as his muscles protested the movement.

“Larissa?” he called out.

“Is this yours, sir?” the first medic asked, Larissa’s sling in her hand.

“Ma’am?” the second medic asked, standing back up and heading over to Larissa.

“That’s my wife’s sling. She had surger—” The words caught in Mitchell’s throat and he started coughing hard. 

The female medic kept a grip on his arm. “Take slow breaths, sir.”

He heard water running and realized Larissa was rinsing her mouth out in the sink. She wiped her mouth with her forearm and then sank down on the floor beside him. She looked splotchy and puffy-eyed, sweat making the short hairs around her face curl. He could tell from the way that she held herself that she was in pain and short of breath.

“He needs… to get checked out,” Larissa said. Another tear rolled down her cheek. “I couldn’t catch him when he f-fell. And then it was hard to get the melon out, and when I d-did, he wasn’t—”

Her voice choked off, and she dropped her chin to her chest. Mitchell saw her shoulders shaking and reached out and put his hand on her leg.

“Shh, baby,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m okay. You sound like you need your inhaler, though.”

“Transport them both?” Mitchell heard the male medic ask.

“Looks like it,” the woman said. “Go ahead and let them know.”

A short while later, they were both in the back of the ambulance. It still annoyed him that they’d made him ride on the gurney while Larissa walked out under her own power. Right now, she sat on the bench, strapped in with a seatbelt. Her arm was back in the sling, and she held it to her stomach, white-faced with pain.

Fortunately, the albuterol had helped with her wheezing, and she’d stopped crying.

“Mitchell?” her voice sounded much stronger now.

“Yes, baby?” His own was still hoarse, and he had a faint urge to cough whenever he spoke. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Larissa.”

“When we get home, later… I know I can’t take care of you like I want. But you look like you need a long, hot bath.” She winced as the ambulance went over a bump. “I can make you tea.”

Heat settled in Mitchell’s chest. Touched, he spoke carefully so as not to cough: “That’s sweet, baby. But you’re in a lot of pain. You don’t have to do anything more for me. You already did plenty.”

Larissa’s eyes filled with tears again and she tipped her head back, leaning it against the side of the ambulance. He heard her sniffle before she spoke again: “If there’s any silver lining here, Mitchell, I think we know my heart is strong.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Mitchell cleared his throat. Memories were coming back to him now, and he could see the moment when he popped the cantaloupe into his mouth. “It happened so fast…”

Larissa continued: “We need to chew our food better.”

The medic, strapped in to the seat near Mitchell’s head, snorted with laughter. Then she blurted out: “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed.”

Mitchell barked out a laugh, followed by a cough. Tension seeped out of him, leaving him more relaxed but exhausted.

“No,” he wheezed. “It was funny. And she’s not wrong.”

--

The story continues in: Cheating Death.

#resus writing #cpr resus #medical drama #male resus

[rosaliesimp]

Twilight Week 2022

Really excited to do this! Since I'm starting a day late, I'm actually ending this on Halloween.

Day 1: Favorite Character

My favorite character is Edward.... I know, I know, my name says otherwise, but I like him a hell of a lot more. Wrote a small drabble. Terrible pacing, but it made me happy!

Forever.

You sat cross-legged on your bed, staring at Edward. “It’s been a while,” you whispered, pressing your palms on to your thighs. You didn’t expect him to come back, never in a million years would you expect Edward to break a promise.

He sighed, running a hand through his beautiful bronze hair. “Yeah. It’s been a while,” he repeated.

He left in October… It was halfway through March now, and you were finally healing from the pain he caused. “I hate you,” you muttered, but you knew you were lying.

He did too. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, trying to think of a way to make it up to you. “I’m sorry. I expected you to be over me,” he finally admitted. You shook your head.

“What part of forever do you not understand?” you asked, reaching forward to grab his cold hands. You had to make sure he was real.

His grasp firmed around your own hands, holding you tight, as if you would ever leave. “I’ll never leave you again. Ever.” He stared in to your eyes as he said this, and you knew he meant it.

You shifted to sit on your knees, and leaned forward, pressing your face to his neck. He lifted you from the bed, cradling you in his arms. You felt your eyes well up, and your mouth contorted in to awkward shapes until you gave in to your sadness.

“I promise,” he repeated, over and over until your tears finally stopped. You must’ve spent hours in his cold arms, exhausted from the months of pent up sadness. You never wanted to let go, but you had to change in to something warmer.

“I’ll go-” he started, but you cut him off. “You stay, right there. I’ll be back in five seconds,” you told him, grabbing your warmer winter pajamas.

You ran to your bathroom, shimmying out of your day clothes as quickly as you could to get back to Edward. You had to keep him here for as long as you could. You knew he wouldn’t leave again, but that possessive side, that doubting side… It had a firm grasp on you, more than you’d like to admit, and you had given in a long time ago.

There he was, staring at your window. He seemed to have given in too, but to something else. “I’m going to be selfish, now,” he whispered, knowing you were standing in the doorway, admiring him, taking in all his perfections.

“What do you mean?” you asked as you took a seat next to him. He stared at you, and smiled. “I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. If that means me never leaving you, then I won’t,” he told you, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“I don’t think that’s the right definition of selfish,” you responded, but you were simply happy to have him back.

He was here. 

He gave you a crooked smile, and pulled you down on to the bed, placing you next to him. “I think loving you is the most selfish thing I could do,” he whispered, kissing your cheek.

He was real.

“Consider me selfish too, then. I’ll be selfish forever,” you responded, wrapping your arms around him.

“Forever, then.”

He made the promise to love you.

#twweek22 #edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #twilight saga #twilight

[lovecaitlined]

KaySun 🔞 headcanon fics 🖤

Some casual KaySun headcanon smut I wrote because I’m delusional. Read at your own risk! I don’t have the time nor the plot idea to make a full-on fic and I just remembered I used to write short-form / bullet point stories on here, years ago, and I enjoyed the non-committal format.

First of all, Suna is not conservative since we saw how she used to excitedly talk about halvets with Seyran…it’s horrible foot fetish man who gave Suna the trauma (which she got over during her first night with Kaya). I talked about this with @/academyofbrokenhearts and we both agreed Suna is not conservative, just repressed!!! There is a difference! Also, she is a product of the environment she grew up in (like with a father as terrible as Kazım in Gaziantep, no wonder the Şanlı sisters dressed like old ladies back then).

And now, I personally believe Suna WANTED to have a good first night with her husband, not just to get over her trauma, but because 1) As she told Kaya, she didn’t want their marriage to be defined by fake formalities, 2) she has had enough of the evil men in her life defining her, and 3) She was just…horny…scared and traumatized, but horny…very willing too because consent is important and both of them wanted eo and both of them wanted to feel wanted by eo. Chile anyway Kaya definitely wants his wife and he can help her with everything! I choose to believe both of them have a great sex life together despite them both trying to figure their lives out. (Let’s forget that as of writing, they’ve only been married for like 4 days haha).

First, yes, Kaya eats Suna out. I think that’s obvious. And Suna gives him head too eventually aurrr 😭😭😭

I’m gonna be honest, Kaya loves pleasuring Suna, he eats her out every chance he gets (so long as she’s willing, of course).

Suna is shy at first but he tells her to let go and just enjoy it…and she does! Yes there is a lot of tongue but I won’t get into that because that deserves privacy.

Suna won’t always admit how good it feels, but when Kaya is between her legs she grasps their sheets until her knuckles turn white, and she calls out his name,

…so Kaya is satisfied and can sort of tell she’s having a great time, anyway.

Also, my headcanon is Kaya personally doesn’t mind if Suna has a bit of a bush down there (he’s open-minded like that)—

But our girl Suna is so neat, she keeps everything down there clean and completely hairless because that’s just part of her new rich girl aesthetic 💅🏻—brows shaped, lashes filled, and every inch of her skin smooth and well-oiled like butter. Honestly so slay of her.

Yes, Suna also ends up giving head to Kaya for the first time. 😭

Suna has never given head in her life but she’s so grateful to Kaya that she wants to make him feel good for a change.

She’s hella scared though, so she tries to Google how and she reads a bit before stopping herself 😭

(and she has mortifyingly invasive thoughts about scraping him by accident with her teeth)…

One night though as they’re kissing she just goes for the jugular, she tells Kaya she wants to do something for him for a change.

He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything because he’s confused, even while Suna is putting her hair in a ponytail.

It isn’t until she kneels down and starts pulling down his pants that his eyes widen.

“Are you sure, Suna? You don’t have to—”

“No, I want to do it for you for a change.”

“But—” “Do you not want me to?”

“I…I never said that.”

It goes better than Suna expects, because while Kaya is pretty big in terms of girth, he’s not too gigantic, and she closes her mouth over him without much difficulty.

Kaya is a gentleman and vvv supportive sooo he actually encourages her when she’s doing it 🫶🏻

He also closes his eyes and tells her how good it feels, because holy crap it does feel amazing !

Honestly, this makes Suna feel better and more at ease with using her tongue and swirling it around when she’s sucking him off ~

At some point she stops and looks up and asks him innocently if she’s doing alright, and he immediately gets frustrated and says yes, please just continue!!!

So she laughs to herself and does just that.

And yes, it feels so good that later on Kaya can’t hold it much longer and tells her so.

And he comes in her mouth. Hard.

And Suna is a bit surprised by the sensation but with a lot of effort she manages to swallow most of it, except for a bit that stays on her mouth and drips down to the ground.

Everything is a bit too salty and her cheeks were kind of painfully full…but she kind of enjoys it and the look on Kaya’s face + knowing the effect she has on him?

Kaya is apologetic and a tad bit embarrassed but he also finds what Suna is doing so hot:

She’s dabbing away what remains of it from her lips with her hands, looking at it curiously as it drips down stickily from her well-manicured fingers.

Kaya’s about to say something, maybe say sorry(?), that was too much, but she throws her hands around him and starts kissing him, so he just sorts of…melts away…

But wait, there’s more.

It affects him a lot, because one time when Suna accidentally drops the beads of Kaya’s prayer bracelet again and she’s on her knees on the ground just like then picking up the pieces, Kaya does get a boner—

He prays she doesn’t notice it, but she eventually does, and he’s embarrassed but she’s deeply pleased (again, knowing the effect she has on him)—

So she locks the door behind them and helps him out.

Other stuff!

Everyone probably thinks Suna is the dom but GUYS. She is not.

She probably enjoys going on top and riding him, and Kaya loves the view as well (plus being the “sub” once in a blue moon) but at the end of the day she just wants Kaya to take the lead in their relationship—

(And I know what y’all are thinking—isn’t Kaya the malewife here? Isn’t Suna the strong woman in the relationship…guys, here’s the thing, he may seem under her irl but in the bedroom it’s a different story. That’s how the dynamic is usually with powerful women lmfao they don’t always want to lead, and if you don’t believe me, look at this interview of Rihanna saying she’s a bottom and that she wants to be disrespected and then read the Twitter discourse agreeing with her and explaining the psychology behind it.) 😃😃😃

Also Kaya takes birth control as his responsibility very seriously. He thinks it’s his duty as a man—

He disapproves of birth control pills because he knows that they mess with your hormones and he never wants Suna to experience that wtf!

So he’s just extra-careful with using condoms, and Suna does her part with the counting method too, if ever …

Because of course, there are very rare instances wherein they slip up in the moment and forget, so there is a Plan B morning after-pill going on in those times.

At one point, Suna brings up getting an IUD, but Kaya shuts it down immediately— “No way are they cutting up skin and embedding something in my wife. I’ll wear the condom.”

I do think they have a very fun sex life and they do it semi-frequently, like that meme “until the window fogs up…” blah blah, but guys—

Suna tried that, and while she did enjoy getting slutted out by Kaya, and while she did liked how warm she felt when he came inside her…

God did she feel sticky after a couple of rounds, with all that sweat and his cum running down her legs. She needed to take a shower, stat lmao—(Suna is neat as hell guys wahaha)

So they decided to stick with condoms and a few rounds at a time only. (Sex is tiring, KaySun can get freaky but I honestly think they need a good night’s sleep if they want to successfully get their revenge and function as regular humans in society lmfao).

Besides that, I do think they try a variety of positions. Mostly I imagine they would like missionary the most and cowgirl sometimes.

Have they ever tried the 69 oral style? Probably they have…I honestly can’t see them not wanting to do it, but I do think they’ll find it a bit inconvenient lmao.

They have tried doggy style, but Kaya isn’t impressed. Like do you think he would enjoy fcking his wife if he can’t see her beautiful face 🥲

I do think there will come a point where they take a small couple’s vacation in a log cabin somewhere with a lot of beautiful snow and trees, and he’ll just fck her from behind while she’s bent over a table. But honestly—not his favorite position! #LetKayaSeeSuna!

First night…(?)

First night fics are very common already, so I’m not sure what to add to it, but…

I do think Kaya is amazingly gentle. I do believe he tried to use his fingers to get her comfortable first.

He definitely held back as much as he could and encouraged Suna to relax and trust him.

He’s probably aware that she’s a virgin so he won’t be rough with her.

He’s doubly aware she has had some trauma so he won’t do anything too harsh to her too, and he looks at her for consent at every turn.

Suna is nervous as hell but he makes her feel so good and at ease that by the time he enters her, it’s not the most pleasant feeling, but it isn’t painful either—she doesn’t even bleed!

And okay, she doesn’t come yet but she really enjoys it. They don’t use birth control that first night either so they’re just lucky (and good with counting) that she didn’t end up hamile.

Both of them feel really good and yes they cuddle afterwards!!!!!!!!!! 💞

Fantasies?

Suna definitely has her fair share of fantasies of Kaya having his way with her, lol—

And she tells Kaya she wants this, and he’s just so confused, because consent is a big deal to him and Suna’s fantasies don’t sound very consensual.

But she insists, insists that there are times when he must keep on going even when she’s crying no, because it feels good for her—

“Suna, I would never want to hurt you—” “You won’t be hurting me, Kaya, you’d be making me feel good and fulfilled.”

So they end up agreeing on a safe word.

I do think they end up having angry sex and after-fight sex sometimes (because relationship development and they’re very good at communicating by this point…haha right @/writers?)…

Kaya can get rough and unrelenting, but he always respects her boundaries still. And let’s face it, this is Suna we’re talking about, she definitely wants it rough from Kaya; she probably enjoys it, too.

BUT OF COURSE gentle sex and consent will always be KaySun’s thing! Don’t get me wrong! But they’re both freaky af so they’ll eventually evolve and get rough and they’ll both enjoy it extremely.

I do like to think that the post-nut clarity will make Kaya a bit guilty sometimes for how intense he was with Suna the night before, so in the morning he’ll just go out into the terrace and sit by himself and stare into space in the silence. Suna is used to him being like this by now. (Cackling as I write this).

Now, as for other things:

Period sex: Honestly, I don’t think Kaya would mind. Probably a part of him wants to try it. 💀 But I don’t think Suna would ever allow this to happen lmfao. She would rather die. But Kaya will always buy her chocolates when she’s in a PMS mood, and honestly that sounds so much better.

Shower sex: I’m on the fence about this!!! Honestly I think KaySun both need their alone time in the bathroom to cry about their traumas so it’s not their fave thing to have someone else there, but it does happen and they do enjoy it! (Feel free to correct me). (Bruh I think Kaya will genuinely cry in there when he does it with Suna. Poor man).

That brings us to the topic of comfort sex and again, of course it happens, of course it will always be their thing, whether it’s their past traumas or new challenges in life. I definitely think though it’s not always going to happen—see, Suna has a very nurturing side and a lot of love to give, and the problem was she was never loved by her family. So I like to think that yes, comfort sex happens. But sometimes Kaya just lies in bed with her, listening to her heartbeat, and she strokes his back and plays with his hair, comforting him.

As for all the other stuff, I really don’t know much about bdsm or anything like that…I do think some stuff can happen. However, I honestly don’t see KaySun partaking in anything involving odd costumes, because that’s generally not their thing, since they’re not on that level yet but we’ll never know. I don’t know enough about toys either to know what they will use 🤷🏻‍♀️ they definitely won’t get them delivered since they share a house with the entire Korhan family and a random maid can find it while cleaning and embarrass them. Maybe when they go on honeymoon in London they’ll give it a try. (Head canon is that they’re freakier in London. Idk if Suna will ever enter a sex shop, but I think 50/50 chance that Kaya can convince her haha).

(Also let’s face it, KaySun can get freaky but at the end of the day they are 2 broken souls healing eo, so I guess while they can get rough and while Suna can have fantasies, they’re still relatively very vanilla sometimes…nothing wrong with that—) (But I could be wrong in reading their characters, so if you guys disagree you guys can write your own thing and I would 100% support it).

I do see Suna getting excited to buy lingerie to wear for Kaya though and getting a lot of beauty treatments and doing prep beforehand because she does want to please her man!!! She doesn’t know Kaya would want her anyway. 😂 #LetSunaBeGirly and high maintenance though homegirl deserves it!!!

Finally, I believe that while Kaya has more experience, Suna surprises him more, and he very much enjoys and appreciates it and he tells her so. She’s new to all this but she’s very unsure, and she’s grateful for all his support always and she really does want to do nice things for him. 🫶🏻🥰🥰🥰

Anyway that’s it, bottom line is they have a pretty good and healthy sex life. Kaya and Suna love each other and are endgame. If you made it all the way here, thank you for reading my delusions/ ramblings. 😘🫶🏻

#kaysun #smut #kaysun smut #fic #fics #kaysun fics #beril pozam #taro emir tekin #yali capkini #yalı çapkını #dizi #dizis #gif #caitlinfics #Caitlin fics

[ofthebeasts]

The fallen angel part one

"Well, prized guests! It seems the overwhelming majority wants to see my dear celestial, Areli!"

Amarathine steps out of the venue for a minute. The clack clack clack of the wood of his boots on the floor resounds as the the crowd observes in expectant silence.

As he returns, the light shines on his face in a manner that makes visible two long scars. One horizontal, beneath his eyes and across his nose, and one transversal, through his left eye and the right corner of his lip.

Behind him, threads a celestial— but not quite. It's wings, though still angel-like, of white feathers and holy light, have a demonoid stucture, and are sharp at the edges. It wears a white leather collar, stitched with red thread, and half-loops made of silver at the edges, that dig into its neck.

Its long hair is pitch black, dark like an abyss, like something to get lost on. It's incredibly long, reaching the angel's knees, tied simply on the middle with an equally dark red bow.

"I ask you now, my dear patrons," Amaranthine places his hand on the back of Areli's neck, in a gesture that is almost possessive, "Have you ever seen a celestial in an in-bettween state?"

"My dear angel," His voice, in those three words, drops low, almost to a whisper, an affectionate, intimate tone, "I found it while threading through the tundra I hail from, in a terrible state. I don't usually deal with celestials or demonoids, but what kind of person would I be to leave such a dear lonely and hurt?"

The angel slowly inches closer to Amaranthine, seeking the warmth of its master, but when it begins to wrap its wings around him, Amaranthine makes a distasteful little sound, and Areli drops to its knees by his side.

"Angels, I've found, are insurmountably defiant; they're loyal to their creator, and they just won't break— in my youth, I used to dream of an army of celestials at my mercy, a beautiful collection of holy beings, but I gave up on it as soon as I attemped to train one."

Areli's head hangs low, and it's hands clutch at the fabric of its trousers, as its wings begin to close around itself. However, Amaranthine pinches the edge of the wing closest to him, and they spring open right away, revealing themselves in all their deformed glory— they are long, and covered in not quite white feathers, but have the triangular shape characteristic to demons.

The feathers don't entirely cover the bottom, and beneath them, the membrane typical to demons. It's incredibly ragged, as if a strong wisp of wind would be enough to tear it apart. When Amaranthine sets his right hand on its left wing, Areli can't quite keep back a little whimper of pain.

"And demonoids, well, to put it simply, do whatever they want. I've never even attemped to deal with one, but from hunters and collectors that did, I've gathered that they must be broken nearly to unresponsiveness to make anything out of. I'd rather not walk such a fine line bettween compliance and ruin."

Areli remains still, allowing Amaranthine to touch his achy wings, caress the feathers, let his hand dive beneath them to the sensitive membrane and bone.

"But fallen angels— fallen angels, they've been rejected and abandoned by their creator. They are desperate for purpose, for guidance. The threshold to find a fallen angel is typically around two hours, never more than a day, and they usually fall into empty places— such as the tundra I found this dear in."

Areli shivers as Amaranthine tells its story. It tries to move its wing, gently, slightly, tries to signal to him that the light touch hurts, but that earns it a stab of his nails beneath its feathers. Okay, then— Areli would be patient.

"I was clueless as to what to do, as I had never come across a fallen. I found, after taking it back to my home here, that it stayed in this in-bettween state, taking me as its new master. Fallen tend to go on to become demonoids, but, and keep in mind that I could be wrong as this experience is novelty, if they find a new master in the overworld they will remain there, as something in-bettween, something singular."

"But alas! I digress." Amaranthine spreads his arms, spins once, and bows. "Without further ado, let the show begin!"

Taglist:

@enigmawriteswhump

#monster whump #inhuman whump #inhuman whumpee #whump community #whump writing #whumpblr #monster whumpee #whump #writerblr #writing #creature whump #winged whumpee #angel whumpee #broken whumpee

[rxgirlie]

The Girl Next Door part X

Pairing: Jeryd Mencken x OFC

Warnings: dubious content, alcohol consumption, physical violence, mentions of affairs, morality issues, my improper use of commas. MDNI!

A/N: this is the end, my friends. As quickly as it began, so it shall end. Thanks to everyone who stuck around and read this. Y’all make my heart smile. And to @vivalafae and @runningwiththefoxes for listening to my neurotic ass.

WC: 1801

I managed to make it through dinner without a crack in the facade I had delicately manufactured for the sake of my family and friends.

They sang happy birthday with a sea of waiters piled around the table, their faces blurring along with the rest as I blew out twenty-three candles placed intricately around a pearlescent, heart-shaped cake.

I pushed the food around on my plate to make it seem like I had eaten, choosing to fill up on half a bottle of wine while everyone bantered back and forth from their respective seats, their cheerfulness making me want to scream at the top of my lungs.

One day I would realize that the world never did revolve around me. However, that day was not the day.

The entire affair had lasted five weeks and three days. My mental math gave way to a sea of memories, some pleasant, fleeting, while the others threw up a barrage of red flags, making me wonder why I had been so blind, so careless with a man I didn’t know. Even then, with the information I had, I didn’t know him. To add insult to injury, the logical part of my brain, a part long dormant where he and I were concerned, chastised any part of me that felt heartbroken and confused, citing time, or lack thereof, as a point of weakness. Five weeks is merely a blink of an eye, a flap of a butterfly’s wing. But empires have fallen in a shorter amount of time, and the thought alone made me feel somewhat better. A modicum of reprieve as my thoughts came in waves, battering down on me, sweeping me further and further from the safety of the shore.

_________________________________________

“She’s going to be looking for that note until next Fourth of July,” Heather murmured into my ear, leaning against me from her spot at the stool to my right. The Annual Star Spangled Karaoke event had kicked off and with it came the usual bards and minstrels, drunk and howling away at whatever song was chosen for them by the patrons of The Marina. To be quite frank, none of them could carry a tune in a bucket. You’d think the lightness and fun the setting provided would have made me feel better, but it didn’t. I was drunk and irritated by something as simple as the wind blowing my hair into my face.

“Why do we torture ourselves with this shit every year?”

“Oh, it’s torture, huh?” She turned completely around to look at me, her knees knocking into mine as we came face to face. “Do you have something else you should be doing besides this?”

She cocked her head at me, her eyebrow threading upward as she waited for my response.

I shook my head at her.

“It’s a tradition, Livvy Lou.” She patted my knees, turning her attention back around to the DJ.

“When do we let traditions die?” I asked her, feeling sour and dried out as I finished my second Mai Tai. “Particularly this one.”

She turned around quickly, her expression lost between anger, disappointment, and sadness.

“It’s not like you haven’t blown me off every week for the past month,” she spat, eyes narrowing at me, mouth twitching in a way that let me know she wasn’t quite done with her verbal lashing, but also wasn’t sure if she wanted to continue.

My mouth was bone dry from anxiety, the sudden rising of guilt in my chest from being a terrible friend. A terrible person.

“You know what,” I stood up, the barstool scraping unceremoniously against the tile flooring, “Fuck this.”

She turned back around, unbothered by my outburst, arms crossed snuggly across her chest as I grumbled to myself, retrieving my bag and keys before walking away from her entirely.

On my way out of The Marina, I managed to snag a fifth of Jack from the bar, my way of sticking it to Heather since her family owned the restaurant. Eventually I would replace the bottle, never telling anyone what happened to it originally, though I suspect they never even noticed it was missing.

My entire walk home I replayed the scene from Mencken’s car in my head. I rewound it, stopping and going over each word, pausing, seething, the sloshing of the whisky in its bottle in my fist becoming the background track to my dramatics.

Dodging the passerbys, the ones with enough sense to stay sober as they parted the crowds, each of them marching like worker ants towards the center of the village, ambling towards the best vantage point for the annual fireworks show.

And there I was, no regard for public drunkenness or the mess the sidewalk was making of my bare feet, stomping recklessly towards home for no reason other than not being able to stand myself, wanting nothing more than to rip my skin off piece by piece to give way to the rage boiling right under the surface.

Like he knew, like he could predict my arrival, he stood on his front porch, leaning against the railing with his hands hung over the edge, watching as I edged my way closer to the driveway.

“Happy birthday,” he said as casually as one announces the weather.

I threw my hand up, waving him off, “Fuck you.”

I kept walking, hearing his footsteps bounding down his front steps, doing my best to ignore how close on my heels he was getting.

When I fell—busting my ass with no ounce of grace—as I descended the hill that led to the dock, he grabbed hold of my shoulders.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I shook him off, clawing at the earth to get my bearings, to will myself to stand up and put some much needed distance between us.

He grabbed the bottle I had dropped, tipping it upside down, the amber liquid watering a particularly brown patch of grass that had died somewhere in the peak of June’s heat.

“Think you’ve had enough of this.” He said, chastising me with a raised eyebrow.

“Think I’ve had enough of you.”

I was able to totter successfully onto the dock, walking carefully down at the edge, linking my arms across my chest like a brooding child.

“Shouldn’t you be inside taking care of Rosemary and her fucking baby?”

That earned me a chuckle, an earnest one, as he came to stand beside me, gazing out at the water before his eyes finally landed on me.

“You can’t get mad at me over the natural order of things, Olivia.” His tone was softer than I expected, though I hadn’t expected him to follow me to the dock at all.

“The natural order of things?” A sardonic laugh slipped past my lips, “You tell me she will wise up and leave you in a few years, and then, surprise, she’s pregnant.”

He shrugged. “Is it hard to believe you can dislike someone but still fuck them?”

Once again, I chuckled, “I’ve been doing that very thing for weeks, so.”

A smirk played up behind his knowing smile. Like he was privy to information I didn’t know and most likely would never figure out. It was always like that with him; one step forward, two steps back. “You’re a hypocrite, you know.”

“Can you please just leave me alone?” I pleaded, searching his face for any cracks below the surface, any indication that he was hurting like I was, any indication of humanness underneath his steely exterior.

“What do you want from me?” I asked with a resigned sigh, “Do you want me to march into your house and tell her what’s been going on?”

He stayed silent, his smirk widening, eyes dancing cruelly across my deranged features as I continued, “or better yet, let’s just get her out here for the show. Hann-,”

Before I could finish her name, his palm slapped against my mouth, his other hand curling around my wrist to jerk me towards him.

“Shut the fuck up, Olivia.” He gritted, jerking me closer to him for further emphasis.

I was quick to wriggle out of his hold, shoving him with two hands planted on his chest.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” The impact of my shove sent me reeling, stammering backwards as I watched him fight with gravity.

He recovered, stalking over towards me, gripping my shoulders with a slight shake.

“There’s a streak of cruelty in you that I’ve chosen to ignore, but now that you want to play games, I suppose I should remind you that if you want to destroy me, I’ll destroy you too.” His tone was quiet, but laced with effortless venom as he lowered himself to be level with my face. His grip on my shoulders never loosened as he sloshed me back and forth. The idea of him laying our secret bare mingled with the way he gripped my shoulders, kneading into the bony flesh, bore an anger in me that I had never experienced.

When I hit him, with little to no hesitation, delivering a right hook to the crest of his left cheekbone, I immediately regretted my decision. A flitter of fireworks set off above us as if to mark the tumultuous scene, their ranging colors of royal blue and scarlet red maring with the inky blood oozing down his cheek and onto his chin.

“You hit me.” His face was blank, his phrase almost coming out as a question. For some reason, I expected him to hit me back. I had leveled the playing field with my punch, canceling out gender roles when it landed, shocked when he didn’t send me reeling with a blow of his own. He stammered forward, hands reaching out for me, and I swatted them away, eventually landing weightless hits and dull thuds against the hollow of his chest.

His bloody hand smeared against my face as he pulled me tightly into his chest, pushing my tangled hair away from the tacky sweat on my forehead. I contorted myself against him, pulling and pulling away to no avail. He held me tightly as the night sky exploded above us. My voice was a symphony of weak cries and crackled sentiments as I whispered, “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” over and over again until my voice grew hoarse and any resolve I had to get away from him in that moment simply faded away as I wore myself down.

The perfect ending for a nightmarish fever dream—fireworks, a fistfight, a bloodied mess— but nothing could have made it better when he sighed, pressed a kiss to my temple, and in two simple words, he let me win.

“I know.” He said. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then he walked away.

Tag list: @aurorag98

#the girl next door #jeryd mencken x oc #jeryd mencken fic #jeryd mencken fanfiction #jeryd mencken x ofc #jeryd mencken x original female character #jeryd mencken imagine #jeryd mencken x reader #jeryd mencken #justin kirk

[okay-j-hannah]

They Comfort You

Preference

Characters: James Potter, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley

Warnings: ✨ insecure reader ✨ sending my love 🥰

Request: “Please, Hannah! James Potter, Harry and Ron comforting me when I'm feeling ugly (and giving me kisses too)” Anon

~~~

James

The hospital bed was stiff against her back, the rough blanket being picked and twisted by her fidgeting fingers. It was an attempt to distract herself from the itchy, painful bandages plastered to her face.

All she wanted to do was change her face a little bit. She was sick of the shape of her nose and the constant breakouts weren’t much help.

She was rather good at transfiguration, but the jinx she put on her nose went from bad to worse, distorting it beyond recognition. And though the gossip chain said bubotuber pus was excellent to rid yourself of acne, it forgot to mention that it had to be diluted.

When she put the undiluted bubotuber pus on her face it immediately bubbled into large angry boils.

And now she was stuck in the hospital wing waiting for someone to spread the word that (Y/N) was desperate to be different.

“(Y/N)!” the curtain was torn open, and James ran to her side, “Remus told me what happened.” He grimaced at the sight of her face, and she sighed. “Are you alright?”

She only gave a slight nod.

James knelt by the bed and took one of her hands, “(Y/N), what were you trying to do to your face?” He was nothing but concern as he stared at her unabashedly.

She bit the inside of her cheek, thinking of a lie. “Experiment,” she muttered, “A dare?”

“You don’t sound too sure,” he replied, his brow furrowing with more and more worry.

His hair was falling adorably curly over his glasses, it almost made (Y/N) want to cry. In fact there were definite tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

James frowned – always unhappy when his girl was sad – and tried to urge her on, “You can tell me, love.”

“It’s silly. I was being stupid.”

James shook his head, holding her hand fiercely, “No, clearly it was important. And I want to know about the things that are important to you.”

She looked up at the ceiling to stave off the tears, “I wanted to change my face.” She missed the widened, pained look that filled James’ eyes. “And I did a terrible job.”

He rose to be closer to her, “Why would you ever want to do a thing like that?” He could see the answer when she looked at him. “(Y/N),” he whispered.

He leaned in, brushing some of her hair out of her face. “There’s not a thing about you I would change.” He went for her lips, but she turned away.

James held back a huff, reaching for her chin and making her look at him. “I’m going to kiss you now. And then I’m going to climb into this bed. And then we’re going to cuddle while I tell you all the things that made me fall in love with you.”

He waited just long enough for the smile to quirk her lips before he kissed them.

Harry

Harry was feeling a bit clueless, as if he was somehow missing something. Something important. Because (Y/N) was sad and withdrawn. She didn’t want to be touched or kissed or even looked at for more than five minutes.

Harry was wracking his brains for something he might’ve done wrong. He even consulted his two best resources, the angel and devil on his shoulder: Ron and Hermione.

Naturally Ron said some nonsense about women being mysteriously mad creatures and that he should just apologize.

Hermione was more sensible – smacking Ron upside the head – and suggested asking (Y/N) what was wrong, no beating around the bush.

Harry thought it sound advice and since he knew himself to be slightly oblivious, he knew he must’ve missed something (Y/N) wanted him to know.

He found her on the edge of the forbidden forest near the pumpkin patch. Upon seeing Harry approach, she crossed her arms very tightly across her chest, bowing her head to let her hair obscure her face.

“What are you doing out here?” he opted out of his usual kiss of greeting, knowing she wasn’t in the mood to be touched.

“Just a bit of fresh air,” she said quietly, “How are you?” She knew she’d been avoiding him for a couple days now. The poor boy must’ve been so confused.

“Well, I’ve been on this hunt to figure out what’s been upsetting you.” He waited for her to reply, but when it was evident she wasn’t going to, he continued, “I’ve decided the best way is just to ask you.”

He took a few steps forward and she stumbled, hearing him ask softly, “What’s wrong, (Y/N)? Why have you been so distant?”

She pulled at the front of her robes and kept her eyes on her shoes, “I haven’t been feeling well.”

“We could go see Madam Pomfrey,” he suggested, sounding hopeful.

(Y/N) continued, slightly amused by his reply. “I haven’t been feeling well about myself.”

“About yourself?���

“I just…” she bit her lip, “I haven’t been very kind to myself as of late. I don’t like…” she was pulling at her clothes again, trying to hide her face.

Harry suddenly understood, “Oh.”

She sighed, now she’d done it. Now he knew how insecure she was. He was going to end the relationship now to be with someone far more clever and confident.

But he eyed her pink cheeks and asked sweetly, “Can I give you a hug?”

She tilted her head to see his face, brows furrowed. “If you’d like,” she mumbled, barely audible.

Harry went forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face into her neck. He held her tightly, taking a deep breath and relaxing against her. He didn’t let go until he felt her begin to return the hug.

“(Y/N),” he kissed her cheek as he leaned away, “Please don’t hide away when you feel like this. Let me know,” he was smiling now, “And I can help you feel better.”

Ron

There was a great commotion just down the next corridor, Ron realized, grumbling at the thought of having to pass some student fight to get to the common room. But with no other shortcut he resorted to turning the corner and finding a group of girls.

Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls were mocking someone between them.

“Look at the ugly thing,” one said.

“She’ll be lucky if she doesn’t break a mirror the next time she looks into one,” another snickered.

“I’ll wager she had to pay him to be her boyfriend,” one sneered, “There’s no way she caught his eye with that face.”

Ron found himself frowning with distaste, thinking he’d say something as he passed the group. But then he saw who they were bullying.

(Y/N) was shoved to the ground with a yelp of surprise. She slid painfully on the stone floor, tears already in her eyes.

“Oi!” Ron yelled, “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” He ran the rest of the way, “Get away from her.”

Pansy chortled, “You don’t have to defend the poor girl.”

Ron always held himself to the standard of never hitting a woman, but he felt awfully close to breaking that standard now.

“I said get away from her,” he glowered, “Before I hex you into a spot in the hospital wing.”

Pansy’s lip curled, motioning for her girls to follow her, “We’ll see you in Charms.” She looked at (Y/N) one last time before bursting into a fit of giggles.

Ron was still fuming, red painting the tips of his ears as he knelt in front of (Y/N). “Here,” he said, offering a hand.

She waved it off, wiping furiously at her eyes, “I’m fine.”

“No, you can’t be.”

“I’m fine!” she said, standing shakily.

“(Y/N),” he said softly, his anger still evident – because he knew what it was like. He knew what it was like to be picked on and bullied and overlooked. His heart stammered, “I’m sorry.”

She attempted a smile, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I should be thanking you,” she rubbed at her nose, “They’ve always been quite cruel.”

Ron felt that stammer work into an ache in his chest as he saw the despair ebbing away at (Y/N)’s face. “You don’t believe them, do you?” he watched her expression carefully, “Because none of it is true.”

She swallowed, “Well, when you hear it often enough…” she mumbled, smiling awkwardly out of embarrassment.

And that was answer enough for Ron, “Come here,” he said gently. He drew her into a hug, kissing the top of her head, “I wish you wouldn’t believe it.”

She held onto him, “I’ll work on it.”

“I’ll help,” he said, pulling her face up to kiss, “And in the meantime we can plot our revenge.”

“Ron,” she lightly smacked his chest, “I don’t want to stoop to their level.”

“No, no,” he laughed, “We’ll get Fred and George to help.”

~~~

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[the-enzyme]

I repainted my fan-art Ken Kaneki (MYou Bettina male) for the second time. I had enhanced the 1st face up I gave him previously. However, I decided to attempt painting him the way I learned to do 1:6 sculpts, form that one (15 episodes) tutorial I watched. I was impatient however, which I regret to no tomorrow. So, I was able to get most of the pigmented skin texture on there with mostly acrylics. Then I grew impatient, because I was taking too long (it was dumb of me, terribly so!). 

I am still super happy with how he looks despite using pastels and ruining the beautiful subtleness I had going on. I did take progress photos, but they ar more awful than these. I am of course heavily disappointed in my hair strokes -- my eyebrows and eyelashes are horrid. However, I am happy with how much more mature he appears, due to the heavy dark brows, so I’ll probably be keeping them for a while (before I start obsessing and repaint him again!). 

I need to get a new pointy brush, because I managed to already ruin the one I was using to paint my Sephiroth and Leon 1:6 head sculpts. Bettina has much, much larger eyes, and I was still not able to get not-so-clean, but kind of sharp lines like on Sephy. I wasn’t able to do a better job on Leon either, but he has tinier eyes and they were sculpted way off, so I kind of have to cheat with the way I shade his lower eyelid to make it look like they are a more accurate shape. Leaving me to having to pain the lashes on an area that is hard to do so (and yes, I also suck, so there’s that too!). 

Still, I am super happy with my Kaneki fan-art doll so far. I wish he had broader shoulders, and overall, more lean-young-male body proportions, like Kaneki has in the anime. Instead of noodle arms and child-bearing-hips. Besides the proportions, I am in-love with this tiny face! He’s so pretty and has great lips, as he as intended to be female, but can be a very versatile sculpt! (: Now I just need to start making some actual Kaneki inspired clothes and maybe a more accurate wig, as painful as that will be. I was thinking of this wig as his default one, but it makes him look cone-headed. Lol! DX

#myoubjd #myou #bjd #abjd #asianballjointeddoll #myoubettina #photgraphy #toyphotography #dollrepaint #repaint #toycustomization #dollphotography #doll #coldcastresin #proartist #pro-artist #legit #authentic #legitimate #kenkanekifanartdoll #kenkaneki #kanekiken