#home care bed manufacturer

[goswamihospitech]

Five Function Electric ICU Bed in Indore 2024 - Goswami Hospitech

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 2. Rules

Masterlist

Summary: Simon lays the ground rules and shows you around the house.

Warnings: Simon's email etiquette, very mild cursing, beginnings of obsessive behavior.

Sure enough, Simon had emailed you by Tuesday afternoon. You noticed how... unprofessional it was. Not that he had been rude or obscene, but it was obviously written by someone who never had to write many emails for his career.

here is riley's routine. she likes walks, usually 3 or 4 a day. she eats one scoop in the morning and one at night. she doesn't finish her food all at once, but she'll come back to it. if you're gonna give her more cookies, just two per day. fill water every morning. around the house, if you could just dust and clean up any dog hair, that would be great. let me know if meeting me tomorrow at 0900 for the key works. I ship out thursday. thanks.

Simon.

You chewed your thumb nail, reclining on your couch with a confused expression. Was he irritated with you for some reason? He didn't show it at the interview if he did have any hostile feelings... you reminded yourself that he was a rather gruff man, and maybe that just bled into his written words, too. You rolled your shoulders and started working out your reply.

Hello Simon! Tomorrow works perfect for me, I'll be there by 9 am!

Does Riley have any favorite places she likes to go? Any particular spots or trails she enjoys? Also, are there any rules you have for her, like being on the couch? Is she ok going to the dog park? Lastly, does she take any medications I should be aware of?

See you soon!

You sent the message, sighing and dropping your head back against the arm of the sofa. You were honestly thankful that you'd gotten the job, even if Simon was a rather stiff client. You finally quit your shitty job, and while you did still have babysitting your niece and nephew, you never charged for that - the only time you were "paid" for it was when you took them out somewhere fun, and your sister forced you to accept money for the admission fee.

So this gig fell into your lap at the perfect time. And the fact that you had beat every other person Simon had interviewed made your ego soar. It wouldn't be a bad idea to make a career out of this, you thought.

Your phone dinged - you held it above your face, and saw that Simon had already responded. You sat upright and opened the email.

she only takes aspirin when her leg flares up. no more than twice a day. no favorite trails, we just go around the block a few times. she can sit on the couch, my bed too, but she'll need help getting up. no human food is the only other rule. never took her to a dog park, but if you really want to, that's fine. she's good with other dogs.

Simon.

You frowned. Walking the same block every day, multiple times each day, sounded awful. It wasn't even close to animal neglect, but you couldn't imagine walking the same route every single time. If it didn't drive Riley insane, it certainly would for you.

You read back over the email, your eyes lingering on "if her legs flare up." Simon had never discussed Riley having arthritis with you - and you sincerely hoped that was the reason she had leg pain, and nothing else. You made a mental note to ask him about it tomorrow as you began to write your reply.

Understood. Thanks again!

"Here's the basement." Simon said, leading you down the stairs and into a dullish room. It had a cheaply-manufactured desk, what appeared to be a dining chair (not matching the dining set upstairs), a stuffed bookshelf, and some cardboard boxes filled with paper. A fan stood in the far corner, and next to it was the washing room. Much like what he had shown you of the rest of the house, it was bland and drab.

You looked around, letting out a polite noise of approval. Truth be told, Simon's life seemed awfully boring to you. Your mother had always told you that military men were always overly practical, in more than just home decor. They never cared much for the environment around them, as long as there was no mold, or anything similar. But you had never expected it to be so brutally true.

You knew he had a life outside of his home - from the way he described it, he was usually deployed more often than he was in his own home country. But you wondered - what did he do for fun, besides watch the telly? Did he have friends, and were they all like him? Any hobbies?

"If for whatever reason y' need to clean up a stain, you can find solution in there." He said, pointing to the washer room. "Other than that, nothin' much to see down 'ere."

You followed him as he trudged back up the stairs. Riley was sat upright on the floor, watching you and Simon move about the house with an observant expression.

"The only other things I'll ask you to do is hoover n' dust when it looks like it needs it." He said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "There really isn't much else t' do; of course, if you do see anything that needs fixin' you can always text me." He rolled his head from side to side, wincing as he worked out a crick in his neck. "Might not answer immediately, but I'll see it."

You nodded, standing in the walkway of the kitchen. Even with him leaning against the counter, muscles hidden under his sweatshirt, he was huge. For a brief moment, you imagined what he looked like on the field, dressed in his uniform and holding a gun - but you quickly shooed the thought from your mind before it had the chance to latch on and fester. "Gotcha. And just so I know, do you let Riley sleep with you?"

Simon paused in confusion before he responded. "Come again?"

"Like- you know, if I crash on the couch, is she allowed up with me?" You said, shifting your weight. You couldn't quite tell if Simon was irked by your question, or if he was genuinely confused.

He paused again. "Uh, yea, that's fine. If y' don't mind waking up covered in 'er slobber."

You laughed. "Nah, I'm used to it. A little drool never bothered me. Although, if I do need to wash up, am I alright to use the shower? Or would you rather I use my own back at my flat?"

Suddenly, it clicked in Simon's head. You were planning on sleeping at his house.

He had assumed you would just stop by for walks and meals - he didn't expect you to actually live here while he was gone, and he wasn't sure how it made him feel. He'd never had anyone else spend the night. Hell, no one ever visited, besides the rare occasions of the rest of the 141 stopping by. Even then, they never stayed for longer than a conversation or two.

But, once he took a second to think about it, he realized it might be better if you did stay - at least, while he was on missions. Riley would be bored out of her mind if she was alone that long, especially after spending the past several weeks with Simon constantly there. It would be good for someone to be there when he wasn't, and you seemed like you would be the best person for that, of course.

"Sure, 's fine." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Just don't touch my shit in there."

"Don't worry about that..." You said quietly, "catch me dead and cold before I touch a 3-in-1 anything."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. It was refreshing that you could handle his gruffness - most people treated him like a landmine, never wanting to say the wrong thing and set him off. You seemed to have taken life by the horns, like you weren't afraid to bite back at someone. He wondered if that was all for show, or if you really would snap back if he was to test you...

He pushed himself off the counter and reached into the drawer behind him, pulling out a spare key. He walked over to you and held it out. You were just about to take it, when he suddenly yanked it back.

You faltered. "Sorry...?"

"You lose this key..." Simon began lowly, "n' I'll frame you for murder. Understood?"

You gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn't really mean that... did he? You waited for him to laugh and say he was just joking... but he never did. His eyes bored into yours so intensely, making you shiver, as he waited for you to answer.

"Y-yes, sir. Understood." You said, voice wavering a bit.

He grunted in satisfaction, then handed you the key. You let out the breath you had been holding, then cautiously took the key, before immediately attaching it to your lanyard. You didn't want to take any chances at losing it - not after Simon's threat. You took a deep breath and smiled at him, trying to dust the exchange off of your shoulders.

"You can come 'round tomorrow after o' nine hundred, I'll be out by then." He said, turning sideways to moce past you and heading towards the door. You followed behind and rubbed Riley's head when you passed her; she let out a contented sound.

"Feel free t' use the kitchen if you'll be stayin' overnight." He opened the door for you and leaned against it.

"Will do, thank you!" You chirped, hovering on the landing outside of his house, right were you were two days ago. "Thank you for showing me around - good luck on your- mission- deployment, thingamajig!"

He huffed. "Promise I will, luv."

Your spine tingled in response to his comment. Get it together, don't get your knickers in a twist over a client. You thought. You straightened your posture and cleared your throat.

"Well, see you around!" You said with a smile, then hopped down the steps to your car.

Simon waved, taking a moment to watch you pull out of his driveway. He shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly through his nostrils.

He was an observant man - he had to be, with his occupation. Your reaction to being called "luv" didn't fly over his head. And it's not like Simon didn't know the effect he had on women... he knew how he looked, how he presented himself, and he saw the reactions it got him.

But with you, something felt different. He saw your reaction, and a part of him wanted to chase after it. To see what you would do if he continued to apply pressure to your weak spots. Would you blush? Would you call him out? Would you drop the gig altogether?

He thought about how easily the word "sir" had rolled off of your tongue. He thought about how you would look, all tuckered out on his couch, donned in whatever pajamas you decided to wear, your face peaceful and expression soft as you slept - he imagined you in his shower, the room filled with warm steam and the scent of your shampoo, water hitting your skin as you-

Riley barked, making Simon jolt where he stood. She stared at him, ears turned to the side as she whined. She could always tell when he began to dissociate, and knew just as much as he did that it wasn't a good sign.

Simon sighed, running a hand down his face. "Get it together, fuckin' creep." He muttered to himself. "I need a bloody hobby, f' Christ's sake..."

He blamed it on the upcoming mission. He would typically stress about it beforehand, and if there was anything else that could occupy his mind, he would fixate on it. Right now, unfortunately, you were the victim. But he buried it deep down into his subconscious - it wasn't fair to you.

He pushed himself off of the door and headed towards the washroom, adjusting his crotch as he went. He figured he should at least tidy it up a bit, since you would be using it. The only other people who had been in there were Johnny and Captain Price, and of course, they never cared if there were trimmers on the counter, or if the mirror had splotches from toothpaste residue.

Hopefully, he'd forget all about you - at least, while he was on the mission.

Next ->

Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae

[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly - Four

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. Gaz had been the only one to try and warn you. previous - ao3 - next

When you wake the next morning, Hans’ side of the bed is empty, the linens already cold.

As sleep leaves you in fits and starts, the aches pull you inward—glowing dull and orange like banked embers. Your whole body feels like a twisted ankle. Nothing is broken, exactly, but every muscle feels as if it’s been pulled in a direction God never quite intended it to move.

Your shoulders. The meat of your thighs. Your hips.

The entrance to your womb.

It isn’t the knife-sharp pain from before. Only the muted, persistent throb of a wound left alone to heal. In the cottony space between sleep and waking, you think there should be more damage—for all of what happened last night. And yet, there isn’t.

Still, you don’t move when your eyes finally open. Stillness seems the only defense against the bare truth of the gray morning.

Your husband used you hard on your wedding night, and did not care for the pain he caused.

You are not fool enough to think your experience unique. Women talked as much as girls did. Your mother’s friends were wont to complain when they thought the children out of earshot: husbands who grunted and sweated over them in the night, often without uttering a word. Sometimes not even waiting for the pain of childbirth to subside before claiming their marital due.

You just had come to believe, with every letter that arrived, that your fate would be different.

But it turns out none of this is a dream after all.

Your throat closes, then. Tears prick hot in the corners of your eyes.

Stupid, stupid girl.

You swallow hard. Sit up away from the pillows, even as the aches flare in protest.

Beside you, where your husband slept, there’s a noticeable dip in the mattress. Worn in over years of slumber, and you, you suppose, on Anna’s side of the bed.

Was Hans kind to her too, before?

Abruptly you swing your legs out from the linens, and go to find one of the dresses you brought along from home.

The house is empty when you descend the stairs, as far as you can tell. You hear the steady tick, tock of a grandfather clock somewhere in the sitting room that you hadn’t noticed yesterday, in all of the commotion of the wedding preparations. The floorboards creak beneath your feet as your grumbling stomach leads you along to the kitchen.

The space is as modern and well-appointed as the rest of the house, and bigger than any kitchen you ever imagined needed to be. A cast-iron wood stove with four burners and a large oven, a sink with a pump right there by the basin, and—you nearly stop dead at the luxury—an ice box, right there beside one long counter.

You momentarily forget the troubles of the night, crouching beside the little box in fascination. A cloud of cool fog descends when you swing open the door; you brush the tips of your fingers across the huge block of ice on the top shelf, jerking them away when the cold unexpectedly burns. Not once in your life have you ever seen so much ice in one place.

On the lower shelf, you find cuts of pork and beef, wrapped in brown butcher’s paper and tied with string. Bacon for breakfast, then, and biscuits if you can find flour. Your mother always said that a difficult thing was easier after having a meal.

You find the larder stocked with further luxury. Nowhere are the home-jarred goods that would populate your family’s pantry, garden-grown vegetables pickled in vinegar or hand-pressed jams fresh from the blackberry bushes along the road. Instead you find rows and rows of cans, factory-sealed tins of manufactured uniformity, colorfully labeled and containing everything you might have ever thought to grow yourself and more.

Beans of every variety. Corn. Carrots. Peas. Beets. Tomatoes.

How much must all this have cost? So many, and lined up deep into the back of the larder. You and Hans couldn’t possible eat them all before some of them began to spoil. Of course, if he could afford to buy so much, maybe that didn’t matter.

You find the flour, and baking powder as well. Breakfast is a quick affair after that, and thankfully so, as your stomach really begins to complain as soon as the food is ready.

There’s a small table in the kitchen—yet more luxury, you think, remembering the long dining table you saw yesterday—and it’s there you sit down to solve your hunger.

The hard wooden chair is not kind to the ache between your legs.

You bite into the bacon, crunching it to pieces. There—it’s all right. You have your breakfast. Isn’t that something to be grateful for? Breakfast, and a nice stove, and an ice box, and a kitchen so stuffed with food that you can’t imagine ever running out.

Isn’t this what a loving husband provides? A good home, for his wife to live comfortably in? Pretty dresses, like the one he gave to you last night? A nice ring on your finger—the little gem glittering in the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window?

Hans loves you. Of course. This is love.

You bite into one biscuit, hot and steaming from the pan and burning your tongue. Your mother can make them better, but you tried the best you could to follow the recipe she taught you.

The front door opens outside of the kitchen. Something quick and sharp travels up your spine. Heavy boots step inside—your husband, come looking for you—you freeze without realizing it, holding half-chewed food in your mouth—

“Mrs. König?” calls Kate Laswell, the foreman, and you relax.

“In here,” you call, after swallowing.

Laswell enters the kitchen, and turns to you, at the table. She’s dressed in mens’ clothes, dusty trousers and a heavy jacket over a button-up shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat still on her head. She looks like she’s dressed to travel.

“I’m afraid I can’t show you the accounts today, like I said I would,” she tells you, no preamble, no pleasantries.

You remember then your brief conversation with her the previous night—and Hans’ disapproval at the idea.

You set down your biscuit. “Good morning, Miss Laswell. Why not?”

“I’m going over to visit the Vargas place. We’ve been working on a leasing deal. I’ll explain when I get back.”

“Of course,” you say. “Would—” you clear your throat, embarrassed— “Would you know where my husband might be?”

The lines of Laswell’s face tighten. She has a severe look to her that you think is always present—ranch work must harden anyone, man or woman—but there is no wedding happening around you now to distract you from the unmistakable displeasure on her face.

“Last I saw he was out with the herd,” she says shortly. “Anyway, I’ll be gone for a few days. The ledger is in the cabinet by the desk. Take a look at it if you find the time.”

She tips her hat to you before you can figure out how to respond—some part of you bristles at being given orders by someone who is now, ostensibly, your employee—and leaves the kitchen. You scramble to follow her, and catch her when she’s nearly out the door.

“Miss Laswell,” you call, “is Hans—is my husband—”

You’re not very sure what you intended to ask her, before you began the question. Nor, you realize, do you think she could answer honestly, if you asked her what you really wanted to know. It wouldn’t be her place, and it would be inappropriate of you to ask.

If you could actually work up the courage to approach it.

So you settle for, “Is my husband angry with me?”

She stops, and blinks at you. You see her look you up and down, briefly, but when she meets your eyes her expression is impossible to read.

“I have no idea,” she says, and her tone betrays nothing. “Gaz wants to see you in the stables when you have a moment today. Ma’am.”

She nods farewell at you and leaves.

The steady ticking of the grandfather clock punctuates the end of the odd exchange. Disoriented, you return to the kitchen to clear away the remnants of your breakfast, flushing in confusion.

Do you really want this?

His question rings now in your ears. Along with it come memories of the previous night. The Madame’s odd interest in you. The store owner Miss Boucher’s sidelong glance at Hans. Myriad other quirks of the brow or mouth that you only now grasp the meaning of.

Everyone knew, somehow, what was coming. Everyone except you.

And Gaz had been the only one to try and warn you.

You tug on a shawl as you step out onto the front porch, breathing in the mountain air. The morning chill hasn’t yet burned off, and the sky has yet to gain its full color. Across the clearing, Kyle Garrick is at work in the stable’s corral.

He holds one end of a long lead, attached at the other to the bridle of a red-brown horse, which trots in a wide circle around him. Occasionally, with the lunge-whip he holds in his free hand, Gaz taps the horse’s hindquarters, redirecting it patiently whenever it tries to move inward or otherwise deviate from its orbit.

Horses are scared creatures, Miss, I don’t know if you know this, Hans had written. You must be gentle when you train them, or destine them to a lifetime of anxiety.

When you approach, the horse’s attention briefly turns toward you, but Gaz taps it again and it goes back into its pacing. You have a moment to admire the long line of the cowboy’s body, the focused angles of his shoulders and hips, before he addresses you, sensing your presence without having to turn and look at you.

“Good morning, miss,” he says. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you,” you say. It feels dishonest, even if it isn’t a lie. “Good morning, Mr. Garrick.”

The horse makes its way past you, and then Gaz brings it to a stop. He winds up the lead in one hand and makes his way over to you, meeting you where you stand by the corral fence.

You can’t help but notice how handsome he looks in the light of late morning. The serious expression on his face is the same one he’d worn the day before; you suspect it’s his natural disposition.

You remember the brief smile he’d shown you last night, before Hans had taken you away, and your cheeks warm despite yourself.

“I thought I might introduce you to the horses today,” he says. “If you’ve got the time, that is.”

“Oh,” you gasp, suddenly eager, “Please! I’ve been looking forward to it ever since Hans proposed! I told him about the two old nags we had on our farm, to pull our wagon, and he said—”

We must get you on a proper horse, then, to show you the true pleasure riding may offer.

You stop mid-sentence. Something about what Hans had written rings in your memory now with a different note. It seems…mocking, almost. Imbued purposefully with a meaning intended to escape you, given you had not the experience enough to catch it.

Shame blooms painfully behind your breastbone.

“…He mentioned he’d bring me to meet them,” you say lamely.

The smile Gaz gives you doesn’t reach his eyes. “He’s very busy, or I suppose he would be today.”

“I suppose,” you echo.

Gaz inhales deeply, and then he gestures to the red-brown horse. “Well—this here is Newt. I’ve been getting him used to the bridle today.”

“Hello, Newt,” you say to the horse. You reach a hand out, briefly, but then pull it back; your instinct is to let the horse get your scent, like you might with a farm dog, but you don’t know if you should. Your father had always handled the nags.

Gaz notices, and brings one big hand to Newt’s long face, squeezing the arch of his muzzle. The horse’s eyes droop in obvious pleasure.

“He’s a big baby,” says Gaz, expression gentling. “I’m trying to see if he’ll make a good cutter, but it’s too early to tell.”

You reach out again. Newt’s velvety nostrils flare as he inhales, and then his hot breath bathes your hand and wrist. You suppose you have his approval, because Newt simply works his teeth a little and makes no indication of displeasure.

“A cutter?”

“Yeah. The kind of horse that can cut a steer out from the herd so you can drive it someplace else,” Gaz explains. “Horses either got cow-sense, or they don’t. Here, come around inside and I’ll show you the rest.”

Long Mask Ranch, Hans had written, built its reputation on the quality of its quarter horses. In the early days of its inception, his father had struck an extremely lucrative deal providing the US Army with its cavalry mounts, which had turned out to be a perfect way for the ranch’s reputation to spread. Even after the army mostly withdrew from the region, every state in the surrounding countryside knew: if you wanted good horses, you went to Long Mask.

“These are the yearlings,” Gaz explains as he leads you through the stable. “Just now we’re getting them trained to follow directions. Won’t be riding ‘em for a couple years yet.”

He puts Newt away and beckons you to follow. In the neighboring stall, one of the horses pokes its head out over the gate. It’s a light-colored colt, yellowish in the body and white-maned.

“This is Gus,” Gaz says, scratching its fuzzy chin. “He’s a big flirt, yeah, aren’t you, boy?”

You also reach out to give Gus a pat, and the colt chuffs and butts his nose into your hand, proving Gaz’s accusation. You can’t help giggling a little.

When another horse across the building snorts, Gaz chuckles, and leads you in the direction of the noise. “Ah, yeah, and that’s Woodrow. Him and Gus are always goin’ at it, but you won’t ever see better friends.”

Woodrow is dark gray horse with a distinctly unamused face. He accepts a pat on the forehead with what you can only describe as resigned patience. Gaz feeds him a sugar cube from one pocket for his trouble.

He takes you further along down the line of stalls. You meet a spirited filly named Elmira, and a colt beside her named July whose love for her is unrequited.

“We’ve already gelded him, so it wouldn’t matter much anyway,” Gaz relates.

He speaks fondly of every horse as you meet them, with the familiarity of long days working beside each of them. It relaxes him, you realize, to speak of them—the hard set of his expression has softened, the serious line of his brows eased from their iron setting.

It makes him look—not younger, you decide, but properly his age. A cowboy just beginning the best years of his career, still hale and fit enough to meet the rough demands of the job, but with enough experience under his belt to confront any challenge with confidence.

Such confidence is obvious in the way he moves. He walks loose and easy through the stable, his every step as assured as the sunrise the next morning. The line of his broad shoulders, the swooping curve of his back—they tell you at a mere glance that home is in this place, working with these creatures, and there could be nothing more Kyle Garrick might long for besides.

Envy twists your intestines around its fingers. There’s an empty space inside of you that you’d been expecting, as your wedding vows had finally taken flight, to fill with that same feeling.

At the end of the stable, in a stall in the back corner, a horse pokes its head out over the gate. It’s bigger than the yearlings, with a pale face and a dark, gray muzzle. It looks right at you, with such a clear focus that it startles you.

“Ah,” says Gaz, when he sees. “Was wondering if she’d notice us.”

“She?”

He nods. “A mare. She’s…difficult.”

The mare stares at you, with deep, night-black eyes.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

Gaz works his lips over his teeth. “Mr. König bought her last year off another rancher who was ‘bout fit to shoot her. She’s a thoroughbred, and she ain’t never met a white man she likes. As like to buck a man off as to let him ride.”

“Oh,” you say.

Gaz leans against the wall between two stalls. “Mr. König thought he might be able to break her. So far she hasn’t gotten him off her, but she won’t let him come near without putting up a fight. I’m the only one can saddle ‘er.”

You frown. “Why would he ride a horse that doesn’t want to be ridden?”

At that, Gaz’s eyes go cold. Shockingly cold, like an empty winter’s night. “Suppose he just likes taking what he wants, I guess.”

You should reprimand him. You know it immediately. It’s no way to talk about his employer, and certainly nothing he should ever say in front of you, his employer’s wife.

But you remember the blood, and still feel the ache. You have to look away from him, ashamed. Embarrassed.

You cannot defend your husband, and he must know it.

“I imagine he must know what he’s about,” you mumble.

Gaz gives a derisive snort. “I don’t know about that. He’s of a mind to start with thoroughbreds, but she will not let him breed her. Damn near killed every stallion he’s brought her to try.”

It hits you so sharply that you inhale with sudden pain, pressure knifing at your eyes. You turn away from Gaz entirely now, pressing your hands to your chest. Every ache from the night previous ricochets around inside you again, knocking all the way down into your bones.

You tip your head upward, as if it will prevent the gathering tears from falling. What’s worse, Gaz puts a hand on your shoulder behind you. You flinch at the touch, hips aching where Hans had bruised them in his grip.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” Gaz says softly. He sounds like he means it. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

He knows exactly what ails you. And why wouldn’t he? He’s known his employer for years. He’s worked this ranch for longer than you’ve even known of its existence.

He knew the previous Mrs. König, who first endured Hans’ attentions.

You are a terrible fool, and you are the last to know it.

He doesn’t remove his hand as you tremble. He squeezes you gently, the same caress he’d given to the young colt Newt. It is so kind that it nearly breaks you.

“Here,” Gaz murmurs, “let’s see something.”

You turn back to him; he takes your hand, and leads you to the back of the stable. The mare follows the two of you with her eyes, expression unchanging as you approach her.

Closer now, she is a stunning creature. You’ve never seen anything like her. Her coat is silvery-gray, with darker patterns all over her body, like ink absorbed into paper and then laid beneath a light rain. Her legs and mane are the same dark color as her muzzle, and there is a deep intelligence in her eyes as she beholds you.

“You might be the first woman she’s ever seen up close,” Gaz says.

He takes up a position behind you, and turns your hand over in his, opening your fingers. Then, slowly, so the horse can see it, he brings them to her face, pressing your fingertips to the soft whorl on her forehead.

The mare’s eyes do not leave you. She exhales a little through relaxed nostrils, chuffing, flicking her ears toward you. You play with the starburst of pale hair, following the direction it grows; her lids, heavy with thick, black lashes, drop a little.

“I’ll be,” Gaz murmurs behind you. “I think she might like you, miss.”

A loud BANG claps against the wall on the other end of the stable, and the mare jerks her head immediately, flinging your hand away. She grunts, snorts, and dances away from the gate, shaking her head, eyes flaring wide.

You and Gaz both look to the commotion—

Your husband stands in the open doorway, cast in a dark silhouette by the late morning light.

“Just what the hell are you doing?”

-

a/n: the horses' names are all references to characters in my favorite western, Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry.

[starlovesganyu]

Love your writing style, its so comfy to read (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

Can I humbly request [characters] perfect date for whoever you want to do.

From: 🦎

their perfect date!

❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀

what their perfect date is!

thanks for the ask!

various characters x gn!reader

characters: keqing, hu tao, clorinde, jean, ei, yae miko, furina, bronya, black swan, feixiao, march 7th, qingque, silver wolf

warnings: none

not proofread

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

keqing -`✮´-

• window shopping is her favorite way to spend time with you!

• she wouldn't be able to contain her excitement as you walk through the streets of liyue together, looking at all the different goods displayed in shop windows

• enjoys explaining the significance behind many of the artifacts, or how different types of clothing are manufactured

• but, if gently intertwine your fingers with hers, she'll shut up real quick

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

hu tao -`✮´-

• would definitely enjoy bringing you to a haunted house of some sort

• obviously she wouldn't get scared, but enjoys watching you jump at every little movement and sound

• would also scare you herself, then giggle at your reaction

• should you hide behind or grab hold of her out of fear or for protection, her heart will flutter a little <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

clorinde -`✮´-

• for her, playing through a tabletop troupe script with you would be her ideal date

• she loves to immerse herself in the story and characters, and whenever she roleplays with you, she finds it much more enjoyable!

• she'll secretly pick a script that has her saving you from monsters, or even one that ends with the two of you kissing (//ω//)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

jean -`✮´-

• a midday picnic away from the hustle and bustle of mondstat and the knights is perfect!

• you would bring your favorite dishes, she would bring hers, and you two would spend time sharing food and stories

• spending time away from her responsibilities and expectations also helps her relax and decompress

• her heart will melt if you lean on her shoulder or lay your head down in her lap

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

ei -`✮´-

• in her mind, simply walking around inazuma with you is perfect

• having been stuck in the plane of euthymia for so long, many of the sights and goods are still novel to her, and she enjoys listening to you explain all the new things she’s seeing and experiencing

• but, you should be prepared to stop at every shop or stand that sells sweets

• wouldn’t try and feed her any sweets though, she’s still the archon and has an image to uphold

she’ll gladly do it in private

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

yae miko -`✮´-

• she would prefer to start the night off with a nice dinner

• wouldn't have to be anything extremely fancy, the only requirement being the establishment must serve fried tofu

• after the meal, simply lazing around at home with you would be a perfect way to end the night

• she would enjoy reading light novels with you in her lap, but her hands would be constantly roaming around your body, making it very difficult for you to focus on your book

"dear, is the novel not to your liking? you've been on the same page for ten minutes now..."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

furina -`✮´-

• would love to go watch some sort of stage play or musical with you

• she wouldn't care what genre the performance actually is, she just wants to spend time with you!

• unless it's horror-if it is, she'll have a death grip on your hand the entire way through

• the following days, or even weeks, she's not entering any dark rooms by herself, has you check in the closet and under the bed before sleep, summons all the salon members to keep watch, and clings to you like her life depends on it while she's trying to sleep

• if it's not horror, she would be constantly glancing over at you to "gauge your reactions at different scenes" (you're just too beautiful, and she couldn't resist the urge to look at you)

• would also enjoy acting out some of her favorite scenes to you in private!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

bronya -`✮´-

• similar to jean, anything that lets her take a break from her responsibilities and expectations would already be perfect

• that being said, she would really enjoy going clothes shopping with you!

• besides taking her mind off work, it's allows her to admire you under the pretense of making sure the clothes fit on you

• she'd blush every time you tell her she looks good in something

• would suck at helping you decide what to pick because you just look good in everything!

• wants to hold your hand, but sadly she's got an image to uphold-don't worry though, she'll make up for it by giving you a quick kiss in a changing room!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

black swan -`✮´-

• 100% a romantic candlelit dinner type of woman

• loves to listen to you talk about your most recent or favorite memories!

• she'd also want to show you some of her favorite memories of the two of you, or even maybe some of her favorites from her own life

• would definitely make you relive some of your embarrassing moments, for example, when she caught you red-handed trying on her clothes and posing in front of a mirror

• afterwards, taking a calm night stroll hand in hand would be a perfect way to close the night

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

feixiao -`✮´-

• would love to have you accompany her for a morning run and workout!

• when she runs, it usually allows her clear her mind and think over important issues with a fresh mind, but since you're present she can only think about you

• don't worry! if you get tired or don't want to run, she'd be more than happy to just take a morning stroll!

she'd also be willing to carry you

• would love if you'd join her lifting weights, but wouldn't ever make you do anything you don't want to do

• very obvious that she's trying harder than ever now that you're watching to try and impress you <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

march 7th -`✮´-

• shopping.

• spending a whole day going store to store looking for cute things with you would be a dream come true

• she'd have you try on many different outfits, and may even have you pose for her camera!

• would also suck at helping you choose an outfit, you just look too cute in everything!

• by the end of the day, her camera roll is filled with pictures of you and her, and she'll immortalize her favorites on her wall

• if you were to buy her a stuffed animal of any kind, she'd treasure it, naming it ruler over all her other stuffed animals, and would also hold it when she's missing you </3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

qingque -`✮´-

• she'd love to just slack off and play celestial jade with you!

• she wouldn't care if you brought along your friends, as long as they were fine losing to her

• but, if was were to be down to you and her, she'd discreetly make a bad play to let you win because your smile never fails to make her heart skip a beat!

• grabbing takeout and walking around aurum alley would be a cherry on top for her, but you should be prepared to have a lot of your food stolen by her

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

silver wolf -`✮´-

• would want to just laze around and play video games with you

• she's very skilled at basically every game, so she could help you beat bosses you were struggling on or boost you a couple matches in competitive

• could also spawn you in credits or other valuable in game resources if you wanted-just don't ask how

• if you decide you want to play against her, she'll promptly sit herself down in your lap just to distract you (not like she needs the advantage, she just likes to watch you slowly get flustered)

• also uses you as like a good luck charm for her gacha game pulls

a/n: thanks for reading!

[imagine-shenanigans]

sighs dramatically.

Okay but the ghost distribution system as we call it is hysterical but can we tlak about how None Of The 141 are built to date.

Like, sure, Gaz is great at flirting, and he's charming, but DATES? He's the type who asks you on a date because he thinks youre pretty/handsome/adorable/etc but by the time the two of you actually go on a date he's ready figured out like. the whole rest of your lives together. He's already imagined up 20 different scenarios of different dates, stalked your front-facing social media and found your secret or hidden accounts that theoretically don't link back to you. Sure, he's scrounged through your discord servers and your private messages and texts and a thousand other things while he was bored on leave. He knows enough to know that he's happy with what comes next. All dates are simply... ritual at this point? Something obligational, other than the fact he gets to spend time with you.

You're not going anywhere, he's just the least heavy handed of them, the one who'll let you think its your choice to keep him around until he's got his ring officially on your finger. Life won't go according to plan but he's prepared for that too. In his head, you're already married anyway, he's just working his way up to that part. He'll manufacture any scenario to keep you with him, because he wants you to be. And he'll make sure you want to be too.

Soap on the other hand is WAY less tactful about it. He's charming, and he'll take you on dates, sure, but the moment he spots you it's incredibly easy to get obsessed. He immediately drops an arm around you, purring in your ear and talking to you. Doesn't ask you on a date so much as demands it, puts his number in your phone and presses a kiss to your temple, his fingertips squeezing your chin before you leave. God forbid you let him into your home - he'll never leave if you do. Johnny's SUCH a physical guy that while, yes, personality matters, it seals the deal for him the moment he's got his tongue down your throat and his fingers in your pants. Something about the way you settle in against him makes him feel like he's home, and you will never get rid of him.

He's willing to take you on dates if you need more proof, but he won't even pretend like he doesnt already have a copy of your key. Like he's not telling the guys about the bonnie little thing he's going home to - he slips into your apartment/house/etc and into your bed without changing, barely finding time to slip his boots off. Presses one hand to your mouth and just... holds you. He'll fuck you within an inch of your life later when you're less panicked, sure, but he just wants to press his nose to your neck and breathe you in. If his hips rut against your ass, ignore it for now. (Haha... unless? No? okay in a minute then)

Price is just as manipulative as Gaz can be, just as charming as Soap and Gaz too. But he just... doesn't care, just like Simon. There's a reason so many people have Price with like... mail order bride or a "one day you look up and hes your husband" scenario and thats because he's good at what he does. And by that I mean being a husband and pumping you full of kids whether or not its physically possible. (Btw check out Ceil's mail order bride western au its good shit, or Bo's Kingpin Price drabbles, makes me lose it every time.)

He sees you walking about and the MOMENT you do anything remotely domestic - pick up a neice/nephew/babysitting kid/etc and put em on your hip? Rock hard. play peekaboo with a baby across from you at a cafe? pick up after yourself just to be polite to the waitress? he's already stalking you on multiple platforms theres no goddamn way youre getting away from him. He'll figure out where you go in your free time and insert himself there as naturally as possible. He's not particularly hiding what he's doing either - he likes to test you, to see if you notice things missing or moved. If you do, he'll be a little more cautious, use it as reason to drive you into hsi arms. If you don't he jsut views it as all the more reason to take you away - poor thing, you just can't help yourself can you? You're lucky nobody else has got their claws around you, hm?

[theambitiouswoman]

Hygiene tips

Wash your hands thoroughly with soap and water for at least 20 seconds, especially before eating, after using the restroom, after coughing or sneezing, and after touching public surfaces.

Carry a hand sanitizer with you. Make sure the sanitizer contains at least 60% alcohol and rub it over your hands until dry.

When coughing or sneezing, cover your mouth and nose with a tissue or your elbow to prevent the spread of germs. Dispose of used tissues immediately.

Refrain from touching your eyes, nose, and mouth as much as possible, as these are entry points for germs into your body.

Take showers or baths regularly to keep your body clean and fresh. Use soap and water to thoroughly cleanse your body, paying attention to areas like armpits, feet, and groin.

Brush your teeth at least twice a day for two minutes each time, using fluoride toothpaste. Don't forget to clean your tongue, and replace your toothbrush every three to four months.

Keep your nails short and clean to prevent the buildup of dirt and bacteria. Use a nail brush to scrub under your nails regularly.

Regularly clean and disinfect frequently touched surfaces in your home, such as doorknobs, light switches, countertops, and electronics. Also, keep your living space well-ventilated.

Wash your clothes, bed linens, and towels regularly, following the manufacturer's instructions. Use the appropriate water temperature and detergent to ensure proper cleanliness.

Avoid sharing personal items like towels, razors, toothbrushes, or makeup.

Practice good food hygiene by washing fruits and vegetables thoroughly before consumption. Cook food to the appropriate temperature to kill harmful bacteria, and refrigerate leftovers promptly.

Keep your surroundings clean: Regularly clean and disinfect commonly touched surfaces such as doorknobs, light switches, phones, keyboards, and remote controls. This helps eliminate germs that may be present on these surfaces.

Maintain clean and healthy feet: Keep your feet clean and dry to prevent fungal infections. Wash your feet regularly, dry them thoroughly (especially between the toes), and wear clean socks and well-fitting shoes.

Ensure that the water you use for drinking, cooking, and personal hygiene is clean and safe. If necessary, use water filters or boil the water before use.

If possible, use a shower filter.

If you are sexually active, use barrier methods (such as condoms) to protect yourself from sexually transmitted infections. Get regular check-ups and screenings as recommended by healthcare professionals.

Take care of your mental well-being by managing stress, getting enough sleep, engaging in regular physical activity, and seeking support when needed. Good mental health is essential for overall well-being.

Sleep with aloe vera on your face to help with scars and acne.

Massage your body with oils and lotions after shower or before bed.

Eat greek yogurt to help fix PH balance, acne and odor in your private area.

Wear cotton based underwear.

Do not treat your body like a trashcan.

To smell good during the day:

Regular bathing helps remove sweat, dirt, and odor-causing bacteria from your body.

Apply antiperspirant or deodorant to clean, dry underarms to control sweat and odor.

You can also use baking soda and lemon to get rid of under arm odor.

Put on freshly laundered clothes each day. Clean clothing helps prevent the buildup of odor-causing bacteria and keeps you smelling fresh.

When choosing clothes, opt for natural fibers like cotton or linen, which allow air to circulate and help wick away moisture from your body. Avoid synthetic materials that can trap sweat and lead to unpleasant odors.

Brush your teeth at least twice a day, floss daily, and use mouthwash to maintain fresh breath. Don't forget to clean your tongue as well.

Apply a pleasant fragrance, such as perfume or cologne, sparingly. Avoid excessive application, as it can be overwhelming to others. Focus on pulse points like the wrists, neck, or behind the ears.

Keep your feet clean and dry to prevent foot odor. Wash your feet daily, dry them thoroughly (especially between the toes), and wear clean socks and well-ventilated shoes.

Regularly brush your tongue, as it can harbor bacteria and contribute to bad breath. Visit your dentist regularly for check-ups and cleanings.

Drink plenty of water throughout the day to flush out toxins from your body. Staying hydrated can help prevent the buildup of odors.

Certain foods, such as garlic, onions, and spicy dishes, can contribute to body odor. Pay attention to your diet and make choices that minimize strong odors if you are concerned about smelling good.

Keep a small travel-sized deodorant, wet wipes, or refreshing body spray with you to freshen up during the day, especially in hot or humid weather.

Ensure your clothes, towels, and bed linens are washed regularly. Use a detergent with a fresh scent to keep them smelling clean.

Spray perfume on your brush or use natural oils that are safe for your hair.

Wipe front to back to avoid infections. Use toilet paper then wipes.

moisturize your skin.

When washing your hair, make sure you are using products that clean your hair without drying it out.

Keep feminine wipes with you.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

A Lion in Your Den

Yandere Male Lion Hybrid Android x Transmasc Reader (CW: Non-con, breakup, depression, disassociation, overstimulation, drug induced pleasure, general yandere behavior) EXTRA NOTE: The term “pussy” is used to refer to transmasc genitals, this may potentially give some transmasc readers dysphoria so I just wanted to be extra clear on what is in this fic. Word Count: 4.5k (Big thanks to the commissioner, they paid way above my normal rate for this just so I could finish my garden and feed the senior center as well as my family. They wished to remain anonymous so I will not tag them, but I still just wanted everyone to know how awesome the commissioner is.)

The day had started like any other, you went to work and thought of taking the love of your life, Marcus, out to dinner later to get you through the day. You largely kept to yourself, got your work done, and turned to your happy thoughts when things got too unbearable. And when you got home after work to prepare for your date with your beloved, things were still going great. You took great care in getting and looking immaculate, you donned your best suit, which your android butler had kept pristine for you. “What do you think Ash,” you asked, doing a slow turn to show him how you looked. “You look amazing today sir, very handsome, I am sure Marcus will think so too!” Though his opinion was a bit biased, you were sure he would let you know if anything was seriously amiss with your attire. Ash was your android butler, he attended to you basically acting as a personal assistant and housekeeper. He cooked, cleaned, kept you organized, and in general just helped keep your days moving with a good flow. You were lucky you could afford him, feline mandroids were pretty expensive but your salary as a member of upper management at the company that manufactured these androids, along with an employee discount, meant you could get one. Ash was a later model, based on a lion. Not as petite as the domestic cat based model, and their personalities were less timid, and it was not uncommon to see them employed as bodyguards. You could easily see Ash in such a role, his image was certainly intimidating, standing 7ft tall was long ginger hair, lion like ears on the top of his head, a tail, sharp fangs, and glowing yellow eyes. With Ash’s affirmation that you looked fine and that you weren’t forgetting anything you grabbed your keys and headed to your car to meet Marcus at the park from which you would take a pleasant stroll down the street to a lovely seafood restaurant at which you had booked reservations. You pulled into the park’s parking lot and saw Marcus sitting on the bench waiting for you, you were a few minutes early so you knew he had been very early. One of the things you loved about him, always on time and never once stood you up. That was of course only one minor thing you admired about him, he was so sweet and open about himself, in contrast with your more reserved personality. He was also always wanting to go do things, go on adventures and see the sights, it was refreshing. And in bed he was great, always letting you on top, letting you cover him in bites while he moaned and whimpered submissively below you. In all areas of life he was extremely compatible with you, that’s why tonight you were going to ask him to take the next step with him towards spending the rest of your life with him. You had made all the preparations, so sure that he would say yes. You were going to ask him to move in with you. You knew he was having trouble keeping up with rent and this way he wouldn’t have to worry about that at all, you could take care of him. You even cleared a spare room for him to put all his stuff into. As you approached him he seemed a little nervous, though that wasn’t unusual, he always was whenever the two of you were on an outing where there would be people like at a restaurant or anything like that, he always calmed down and enjoyed himself eventually. You loved how he always calmed down when you held hands. He stood up and you silently took his hand before pulling him close and planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I am so glad I get to see you tonight, I thought about you all day at work, I know you love seafood so you are going to love this place I promise,” you said to him excitedly. He seemed a bit distant and distracted which wasn’t much like him, but you didn’t press him on it, he was probably just hyper-fixating on some small issue at work or something like that. When you were at the restaurant everything was pleasant enough. The food was good and flavorful, the zest of lemon imbued fish dancing on your tongue, the smell of freshly prepared seafood hanging thickly in the air, and the ambient sounds of other customers chatting and the scraping of silverware against their plates. Mainly you just enjoyed Marcus’ company and engaged in small talk and light banter, but eventually you started talking about your future together and were about to bring up the prospect of him moving in with you, but before you had a chance to take the conversation that far he interrupted you. “Look uh, we need to talk…” Uh-oh. No conversation between partners that started that way ever ended well. The conversation wasn’t one you could recall completely, you were so anxious and more than a bit dizzy, but the gist was that he was breaking up with you and did not feel that spark anymore. You remembered dropping your fork and hearing it clatter against your plate, and you remembered still experiencing the sounds and smell of an eatery and all the other patrons carrying on blissfully with their lives even as your world was completely shattered. You remembered Marcus apologizing and putting some money on the table before awkwardly getting up and leaving. And finally you remembered all of this as if you were not experiencing this first hand but almost as if you were floating a bit out of body and watching all of this unfold from a detached perspective. And that is how you were as you asked for the check, walked back to your car, and drove home, completely detached and out of it, as if you were just floating on auto-pilot going through all of the motions without really experiencing them or having proper presence of mind, it was like the spirit, the very ability to experience emotions beyond a dull whisper of what you should be experiencing, had left your body. When you arrived home of course Ash greeted you in his normal optimistic and ready to please manner as soon as you opened the door, before he even got a chance to look at you, “Hello, sir did the date go well, how’s Marcus? Did you ask him about mov- Oh, are you okay? What happened?” Finally looking at you, Ash could immediately tell there was something very wrong by the way that you stared ahead blankly and the change in the way with which you usually carried yourself. You responded only by brushing past him and walking upstairs to your bedroom and closing the door behind you before locking it and laying on your bed. You did not even bother to change out of your nice clothes. What was the point? What was the point of anything anymore? Ash tried a few times over the course of what remained of the night to knock on your door and get you to tell him what was wrong, but you just ignored him, in truth you barely noticed. You still felt like everything was distant. Your android was worried, and as the days progressed he grew more worried, it was a long weekend so it wasn’t too bad at first but then you did something you never did, you called off of work. Since you refused to talk about what had happened on the night of your date he had to get into contact with Marcus and finally found out the reason for your radical change in behavior. He knew humans were sentimental things that built attachments to one another and to future plans, but he had no idea that the loss of a relationship could so drastically alter someone. Especially someone as reserved and seemingly well put together as yourself. Ash looked into it, accessing data from top psychologists and neuroscientists and experts on all things to do with relationships. Most advice said to heal you would need time and some distraction to take your mind off the trauma of the loss of your mate. So time is what he gave you, but try as he might you would not allow yourself to be distracted. He tried fun activities, engaging in your favorite hobbies, getting you new games to play, cooking fun and exciting new dishes that were sure to please you given his extensive knowledge of what you enjoyed, but nothing worked. You were perfectly content to stay in your room, ignore him, and consume junk that was certainly not ideal for your body. After a week and a half of this you finally returned back to work, and Ash was thrilled, he was sure the spell had been broken. But, no, you were just going through the motions as detached as you had been since your breakup. Sure, you were taking slightly better care of yourself, maintaining your sleep schedule, cleaning up better, but you were still just going through the motions, like a plastic bag caught in a breeze you were not really trying to break out of the cycle, you were just doing what was necessary, and keeping your job was necessary when you ran out of vacation time. Ash, though running out of ideas, was trying very hard to break you out of your funk. He was only trying relatively small things, in an effort to follow the advice and let you have time to heal naturally, but there was all of 0 progress on that front. The lion man missed your old self more and more, the way how even though you were a quiet person you would talk about Marcus and your plans together for extended periods, the way your face lit up when you were thinking about him, or the way you always wore a big grin when you were heading out the door to see him or when he was on his way over. Ash loathed seeing you reduced to this mere shadow of a husk of a human being. You were more robotic at this point than any modern android! Finally he decided that he would have to ignore the traditional and well regarded advice and do something slightly more drastic. After all, each human was extremely unique and there were always going to be some that did not respond to traditional methods. It was becoming clear after a couple months that you needed more than just time. The first larger attempt Ash made in hastening your recovery was to get you out of the house. You didn’t see the point in doing so, but due to his sheer persistence you finally acquiesced to his request. He was careful not to take you anywhere that you had been to with your ex, nothing with any possible romantic connotation, instead trying out new experiences to get you to make happy new memories. For your part it was actually nice to get outside and enjoy the fresh air a bit. Left to your own devices you’d probably just be back in your house or working overtime to just distract you from having to face any emotions that sometimes welled up to the surface. Though Ash was happy that you were at least now willing to get out of the house when pestered, it did not lead to the change in you that he thought it would, the fact he could get you out of the bedroom was at least a sign to him that he was on the right track. Now was the time to press forward with this tiny bit of momentum. His programming and research combined with his personal knowledge and care for your well being led the machine to come to the conclusion that you really should not be so hung up on Marcus. In fact, having a new romantic interest may just be the thing that you needed. And now that he could get you out of the house you may be amicable out of the house. But you absolutely were not entertaining that idea, you pointed out that you just were not ready. And what if you got hurt again? You told Ash to just drop the idea, it wasn’t happening. His programming and drive to make you back to your old love struck self overrode your demand though. He did consider your very logical point about getting hurt again though, a second heartbreak on top of this one could be disastrous if you pursued love again and failed, but he came up with an easy workaround to that roadblock. He would simply date you himself! And he would make sure that you never ever broke up under any circumstances. It was the perfect solution. You could be head over heels for him and he could keep you safe and stop any human from shattering your heart again. Of course he would have to do this stealthily, otherwise he was sure you would just reject this idea outright. He was pretty confident in his ability to pull this off, he would just make the outings he dragged you to gradually more romantic. You’d been so out of it and distracted lately that you surely wouldn’t notice until you were head over heels for him, maybe even more so than you had been with your last mate. He did have several advantages over a normal human after all. The first of the secret “dates” that he had planned was just an extension to what you had done with him previously. Instead of just enjoying some fresh air and the pleasant view of nature surrounding you, Ash had personally made some of your favorite foods that were suitable to take on a picnic. You were not as numb as you had been immediately following your breakup with Marcus, but it came in waves, sometimes you felt your emotions were pretty muted and other times you were sad, but sometimes you felt like you were almost approaching the vicinity of okay. Thankfully during the picnic you were in one of the nearly okay periods, so it was actually a rather nice distraction from everything. It seemed like hanging out with Ash was the only distraction you had lately, other than work, and it seemed you had come to rely on them, they gave you a bit of structure to cling to outside of work hours, since Ash was so consistent and predictable when he scheduled them. When you felt more off you did not eat much so since you felt better you ate a decent amount of what your android had made for you. He had memorized all your favorites and fixed them custom tailored to your taste buds. As you sat and enjoyed nature his hand lightly grazed yours, you let it linger for a moment before slowly pulling away, not thinking anything of it other than he just accidentally had it there. With some effort you managed to push aside the thoughts of how it had reminded you of your ex, funny how such a simple accident could spark thoughts of past romance. The second “date” that Ash took you on was to a movie, it was to a franchise that you had long been a fan of and this entry in the series looked like it was going to be really great. When it was announced your loyal and ever caring android notified you immediately and ordered the tickets the second the movie was showing in the theater closest to you. The lion android fetched some popcorn and a large drink for you before shuffling into a seat beside you. Before your breakup you had not spent so much time outside the home with Ash but you were quickly considering him your best friend now, it wasn’t too odd or frowned upon anymore, plenty of people had machines for friends nowadays, AI had become extremely advanced. As the movie played you become wholly engrossed in the film, it commanded every ounce of your attention. You did not even notice when Ash gently put his arm around you or when you instinctively leaned into it. You didn’t realize what had transpired until the end of the movie when you looked away from the screen, almost half expecting to see Marcus. Almost forgetting for a moment, even after all this time, about things having ended between the two of you. Your cheeks flushed red and you felt a twinge of anxiety in your chest and apologized to Ash before hurrying to the car. He gave you a few moments before he followed after you and got in, silently driving you back home. Though you were typically the driver Ash had started taking the driver seat more often than he had previously. The ride passed in awkward silence until you finally arrived home. After ignoring what had happened at the theater long enough it was like it had never happened and it completely left your mind. Ash was just trying to be comforting, it didn’t mean anything, it wasn’t that big of a deal. He wasn’t a human, so he was bound to get romantic and platonic behaviors eventually. And you had been caught up in the movie, you wouldn’t have leaned into him otherwise. Ash, on the other hand, was positive that his plan was working. It may have ended with a bit of awkwardness and denial on your part, but he had successfully engaged in maintained physical contact with you for the duration of a date and that was by far the biggest amount of progress he had achieved since he started this plan to get you romantically involved with him. All you needed now was a bit of space to process things and then the android could move on to the third date. Third dates were very special for humans, normally meaning sex, and he was more than happy to please you in that regard, he knew he would be able to perform well, he had a number of features that humans lacked. He had everything planned out, there was a fancy new restaurant that had just opened a few weeks ago and he had convinced you to let him make reservations for the two of you. Ash was excited to enjoy a romantic meal with you, androids of his design could ingest food like a human and use it as fuel though he rarely did so. But he was more excited to just be on a romantic evening with you, what had started as a mission to cheer you up and prevent you from ever experiencing the emotional anguish of another breakup quickly became a mission to also sate his own growing desire and love for you. After experiencing these new and complex emotions he was eager to explore them farther with you. He was practically giddy with anticipation. The dinner was going fine for you, though your overzealous android companion had not perhaps the awareness needed to realize that this establishment was one that normally only couples went to for more fancy and romantic outings, so you were a bit self conscious wondering what people may think. But you didn’t say anything, Ash seemed happy to once more get you out of the house and you didn’t want to sour his mood. Ash misinterpreted your slightly embarrassed blush as a sign that you may finally really be having strong emotions for him as he had developed for you but you were still just a bit shy about it. Maybe you had even found out that these outings were dates and you were nervous about what was supposed to happen after the third one. Aside from an occasional stare from another customer at the restaurant and maybe some slight side-eye from the waiter, dinner went well, but once you got home Ash’s demeanor changed. Dramatically. He held the door open for you as usual but once he stepped into the house he stared at you not unlike a lion about to pounce on some long stalked prey. Ash quickly closed the distance between the two of you and pressed his lips against yours, placing his hand on the back of your head and leaving you locked in a deep kiss as his tongue invaded your mouth. You tried to push him off but there was no relent until he was finished. When he finally broke the kiss you were left gasping for air. “Oh, sorry sir, I got a bit carried away there.” “Ash… what the fuck!?” “No this is foreplay, the fuck comes after!” “Huh? What, no, why did you kiss me?” He put his hands on your hips and pulled you close before nipping your ear and whispering, “This is a common occurrence after humans have a third date, part of the mating ritual~” You struggled once more to push him away, only managing to now do so because he allowed it. “Oh, you’re doing that “playing hard to get” part of the ritual that many humans like, I have come across it in my research, don’t worry I am more than happy to accommodate!” Before you could respond he was back to kissing you aggressively before biting your neck. “Stop it Ash, really! You’re scaring me! We aren’t dating!” “No need to be shy about it! I know some people look down on androids dating their humans, but come on. All the outings? All the time spent together to heal your broken heart? We both know that was dating!” “That’s fucking insane, your reasoning is way of-” Your words were interrupted with yet another forceful kiss, this time accompanied by him grinding his knee into your crotch through your clothing, causing you to whimper a bit without meaning to. Without notice he quite literally swept you off your feet and hoisted you over his shoulder. With his immense android strength it was as easy for him as picking up a ten pound bag would be for you. You did not bother to struggle as he carried you up the stairs, even if you did manage to remove yourself from his grasp all you would have accomplished was a nice tumble down. Instead you opted to wait until he put you down. Once he set you on the bed in your room you made a dash for it, but were quickly pulled back and laid on the bed with Ash pinning you down effortlessly. In addition to their immense strength, androids also had reflexes far superior than any human could possibly hope to match. The lion android slammed you a bit roughly on the bed, still lost in his delusion that you are just enjoying “playing hard to get”. He pressed his lip to yours once more, a string of drool connecting your lips as he pulled back from the kiss. His eyes looked absolutely crazed as he stared down at you for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. When he stopped admiring you with his unnerving stare he quickly ripped off your clothing. Using his great strength and retractable claws. Within seconds your clothing was reduced to mere ribbons that he swatted away, leaving you fully exposed underneath him. You began crying, tears running down your face, you normally were not very expressive with your emotions, but you had never felt so wholly vulnerable. Even when having consensual sex with partners you were never on the bottom! Ash noticed your dismay and his general demeanor became a bit softer, gently stroking your cheek with his hand and trying to reassure you, “Shh, it’s okay, you’ll feel so much better when this is done, I know how much you need this.” Ash slid out of his pants and revealed his large synthetic cock. He rubbed it gently against your entrance, slowly massaging your pussy with it. Even as you were crying you could not help but let a whimper escape you. Physically it felt nice but psychologically it was damaging to have your body act as a traitor, it probably would have been mentally easier on you if you had felt no pleasure. When you were wet and leaking Ash slowly slid inside you, thick pre-cum oozing from his cock, a pleasure inducing synthetic fluid that androids came equipped with. And it did not take long at all for them to begin to take effect as he fucked them slowly into your body. When you were squirming and moaning with pleasure he knew that you were ready for him to go at a much more vigorous pace. As he pounded you you felt his cock extend to its full size, longer than what would be possible for a human, without him warming you up and applying his drugged pre-cum you would almost certainly be in at least a moderate amount of pain right now. What passed for the equivalent of Ash’s heart was practically thrumming with joy at seeing you pleasured under him, tears leaking down your cheeks from sheer overstimulation, you needed to let it all out, all the stuff you had been through, and he knew that this was an excellent release for all the stress and depression you had been holding on to. He was more than happy to be the one to help you let loose and he felt closer to you than he ever had before. You were completely his now as far as he was concerned, never again to be hurt by the likes of another fickle human such as Marcus. But he needed to mark you, the lion type personality he had as well as mating rituals he had researched dictated to him that you needed to be marked in a visible manner that showed that you were taken by a proper mate. As he impaled you deeper, sending wave after wave of drug induced pleasure through your man cunt, he leaned down and licked and sucked your neck, adding yet more arousing sensations to your already overwhelmed body, then he bit down as he growled territorially. Careful not to injure you in a serious manner, but hard nonetheless. You came hard as he licked the fresh bite wound, all the while he kept thrusting into you. Even through your orgasm he did not stop, he did not tire as easily as you did and could easily keep going for many hours. And that is exactly what he did, fucked you right into oblivion. By the time he coaxed the fifth orgasm out of your aching abused pussy you were crying and begging him to stop. “But if I stop too soon darling you might not be satisfied, I have to fuck all the stress out of you!” “Ah! Please Ash! No m-moreee ahhhh~” You came again, the drug in his fluids making it easy to have climax after climax. But this time you finally blacked out from the pleasure. With you finally fucked to sleep Ash allowed himself to finish inside you before cleaning you up, bundling you in the softest blankets that you owned, and holding you protectively. No lesser male would ever break your heart again.

[shaunamilfman]

Domestic Shauna Headcanons

pairing: shauna shipman x reader note: no crash au for sure. she's in her 20's.

Shauna's always going to be a writer in my mind. Journalist to pay the bills, but her real passion is in her poetry books that don't sell. eventually tries writing fiction and it really takes off, but she's still kind of bummed about the poetry. 

complains about you being clingy to Jackie, but is genuinely so upset if you aren't home to greet her at the door. (she's the clingy one) 

just know she comes home after a long day and just lies on top of you. every time you try to speak she just bites at whatever skin she can reach till you take the hint. 

loves when you read aloud to her, especially if she's tired or stressed. just wants to drift off to the sound of your voice without the worry of having to respond to it. 

her perfect day ends with her head in your lap as you play with her hair and read from whatever book you've been making your way through. doesn't even ask, just flops in your lap and moves you around. you know just what she wants. 

Shauna won't let you out of bed because she's being clingy and then eventually glances at the clock and blames you for almost making her late for work. acting like she wasn't practically wrestling you to keep you in bed 

space heater shauna keeps the place so cold or else she won't be able to sleep. she will wake up and turn it down a few degrees if you got into a fight. keeps it extra cold so you cuddle into her. 

Shauna can definitely cook, but won't if you're willing to do it instead. it's for the best, because she definitely doesn't season anything. cannot handle spice at all. convinced she'd start coughing at a single flake of red pepper. 

offers to help you cook (feels you up while insisting she's helping you chop) 

so good at making breakfast foods somehow?? god tier.

tries to talk you into the ugliest fucking house decor you’ve ever seen. she absolutely loves it, but it fr should’ve been lit on fire to save anyone from ever having to look at it

Shauna and affectionately biting and being bitten. Just biting down and holding while you're cuddling. she doesn't care who's doing it, but the whole thing is so much better if one of you is. 

doesn’t mind doing the laundry, but hates washing dishes.

convinced she can't resist the urge to bite if you get close enough to her mouth. touch her face and she's nipping at your fingertips. playfully snaps her jaw at you but will fr bite you if you get too close. 

she's always leaving you with some kind of hickey somewhere. she can't fully resist the urge. she's just a girl.

leaves little notes for you around the house. sometimes they’re sweet, but most of the time they’re just reminders not to forget to do whatever thing you promised her you’d get to sometime this week (she wants it done now).

insists she doesn’t need the instructions to put anything together until she’s totally fucking lost and it won’t even stand up straight. complains that it was definitely a manufacturer's error, and that’s why it doesn’t look right. (she forgot three screws. you have to fix it the next time you’re home and she’s not.)

doesn’t want to get a pet, and yet still manages to be the pet’s favorite. she goes from “no way in hell it’s sleeping on our bed” to “but she’s tired” in a week's time.

loves to sit in the same room as you and do different things. Shauna wants to spend all her time with you, but doesn't necessarily feel like talking to you. sitting on the couch next to you doing her thing while you're doing yours is like heaven to her. 

not a morning person at all. she has to wake up and leave the comfort of your bed? not a fan. she's all messy hair and broodiness. just know that Shauna wakes up like with her pant leg riding up ridiculously high, socks came off, shirt twisted around her body

she looks fucking ridiculous as she stomps her way into the bathroom to get ready. drags her feet the whole time but somehow always manages to leave on time

Shauna hates the taste of coffee but forces herself to drink it for the aesthetic. another reason she hates mornings. 

still fiercely protective of her journal, but sometimes you'll catch her rereading old ones with a small smile on her face. occasionally she'll reread you something sweet she wrote about you when you first started dating, heavily editing the parts where she may have been a bit of a hater. 

she's still so jealous and possessive, but she's trying to work past her desire to be immediately confrontational about it. it's not working all that well. 

absolutely adores seeing you in her clothes. it’s a bit of a cheat code, though. how can she be mad at you when you’re wearing her flannel and looking sad? (she’ll give it a valiant effort)

super passive aggressive whenever you're talking to someone new/someone more than usual. 

refuses to call a repairman for anything before she takes a try at fixing it (makes it worse 99% of the time).

Shauna visibly holding herself back from talking shit about whatever you're watching together, but the second you comment something slightly negative about it the flood gates open. she’s so happy being a hater with you.

you get into so many spats about the dumbest shit just because Shauna has trouble with her temper. she’s quick to apologize for small things, usually through actions instead of words, though.

always the one checking to make sure all the doors are locked, nothing is messed up, etc. walks you out to your car if you have to leave really early or really late.

reluctantly kills the bugs, but not without a shit ton of complaints and yelling whenever it moves. Shauna feigned stoicism about it when you first got together, but doesn't bother to pretend that spiders don't freak her the fuck out anymore. 

she’s secretly quite the romantic, but would get so mad at you if you brought it up in front of anyone else. she’ll take you on the most thoughtful dates and write you the sweetest notes, but will pretend it never happened in front of your company. unless she’s jealous of them, then you better bring it up before she does because they need to know how good you have it.

[bunnys-kisses]

like rum on fire

simon "ghost" riley

cw: angst/fluff/smut, homecoming, slight mentions of ptsd, gentle sex, plus sized!reader, body worship, missionary, sleepy sex, a gentle fic

bunny says: like the fic? leave a comment! really like the fic? suggest your own <3

to come home was to rest his tired head, to finally let himself relax. he had been away for two months, and every day felt like an eternity away from you. how he longed for the smell of your hair and the softness of your skin. he was a man primed for war, but when he was curled up in the bed you shared, he felt human.

like he was made of the pieces that made a human being, not manufactured to be a killer. that he was capable to be loved, to be adored by a you.

the roundness of your face, the thickness of your thighs, the smile you had. it melted away the facade he carried. coming home to you was like finding new life after living in the shadows.

to love you was an inferno in his chest that he couldn't ignore. and as he curled up closer to you on the bed, he felt content with life. his large hand grazed your soft middle and his nose was up against your neck. he could feel the laziness of your pulse as you slept.

"i love you." he said softly into your skin. his mind felt scarred with layers that went inches deep, his face fared no better. but yet you kissed him with passion.

you were not afraid to be seen with him in public. he softly kissed at your skin and held onto you tightly. not tight enough to hurt you, but enough to make him feel secure that you wouldn't slip away.

"i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you." he whispered, his voice caught your ear which caused you to stir. he watched you closely as you turned in his arms and reached out to grab the front of his grey t-shirt.

"what was that?" you asked, your eyes opened a little wider as you yawned, "did you say something?"

"nothin', love." he said softly.

you let go of his shirt and reached for his face where you softly touched the scars on his cheek and mouth. you blinked away and yawned again, "no, no. tell me."

he smiled at you and leaned in to kiss you on the forehead, "it was nothin' special."

you shook your head a little, "i wanna know."

"i love you, doll." he said as he took your head from his face and held onto it. he kissed your knuckle, "you make me feel human."

you felt more awake, "well, simon. i've always thought you were human. don't worry, i made sure to check for any robot parts. you're made of the same squishy stuff as me." you chuckled.

he slowly put you onto your neck and hung over you with his hands planted on either side of you. he kissed your face, which only woke you up more. "my love."

you giggled at his kisses, "oh, simon." you tilted your head to the side and embraced his warmth against you, "you're tickling me."

"i can't get enough of ya, love." he said as he continued to kiss your neck. his hands touched your arms and soon your breasts, "i see you, and i feel like a new man."

"i'll always love you, simon riley."

"and i will love you." he replied as he slowly took your shirt off of your body. he admired the softness of your breasts. you were so curvy and soft in many ways. he thought it was beautiful.

"are you sure you want to do this?" you asked as you reached for his face and held it in your hands, "i know homecoming can be tough."

he nodded, "of course. i want to feel close to you."

you nodded and let go of his face and started to work towards getting your bra off. he watched with a keen eye, you were divine. he was a worshiper of the beauty of your body.

he always thought men who wanted the smaller girls were weak. a real man wanted a woman who looked beautiful in all her curves. he licked his lips at the sight, "beautiful."

you blushed, "oh shut up, simon. this bra is stained as hell."

he cupped your breasts once you got your bra off and leaned in for a deeper kiss. he said simply, "i don't care, you're beautiful." then played with them, massaging them in his larger hands as his lips pressed against yours. he was starting to feel hot all over.

he wanted his love. his inferno, his sun, his angel. like a man begging for salvation, he begged to lay you out on the bed and show you the pleasure you two had been missing for some time.

you moaned into this kiss and later broke it to get fully undressed. he watched you as he got his own clothes off and soon you were both naked on the bed together. he got between your legs and admired your body.

he licked his lips and met your gaze. one hand on your hips, the other on your cock as he rubbed his length up against your slit. the room felt hotter than when he first entered it. the blood flow had long left his head and was now solely in his painfully hard cock.

"are you sure?"

he nodded, "certain." then slowly slid his cock into you. the breath left his lungs as he bottomed out into you and soon held onto your hips with both hands. his pace was slowly, he wanted to admire every inch of you. every noise your made, the way your nose scrunched up when it felt especially good.

his eyes raked your body as he began to move at a steady pace. he wasn't bouncing you on his dick, but it was consistent enough that pleasure ran through you.

your pulse was quick and your skin was hot as the two of you made love. it wasn't fucking, it was making love. two people came together to make something beautiful.

he went back to kissing you, he was bent over you as he thrusted his hips. your sweet noises was muffled by his tongue in your mouth. the kiss was the most aggressive part of his movements against you. he wanted to make sure that his love was taken care of.

he just adored you. his sunlight between the leaves. the comfort of home, the safety of being loved. his cheeks were rosy, the sweat drew down his back.

your back arched a little as the pleasure melted in your core. your nails dug into the pillow under your head. he parted the kiss and wiped the sweat off his forehead and neck.

"you're beautiful."

"you're not too bad yourself." you whimpered.

he curled further over you, he leveled your hips up a little bit to hit your core at the right angle. he panted as he continued to thrust into you. the air of your bedroom was hot as the sun beamed through the big windows.

"please, simon." you moaned.

"my sweet." he replied as he picked up the pace a little.

pleasure mounted between the two of you. he kissed you once more as he gave a few more thrusts and finished. you moaned into the kiss as you clenched around his cock and came as well. the heat stung your cheeks as you climaxed. you held onto the pillows tightly as you hit your peak then relaxed once more.

simon broke the kiss and looked down at you with nothing but sheer affection. he let go of your hips and rested on his heels, his cock slipped out of you and rested against his thigh. he wiped the sweat from his brow once more.

"still beautiful."

you panted and looked at him with hooded eyes, "not as beautiful as you." you then laughed sleepily as he got back to your side on the bed and curled you up in his arms. you melted into his touch as he kissed at your hairline.

"i'm happy to be home."

"i am too, simon." you looked into his eyes, brown like fresh coffee but they lit up when they were locked onto you, you cupped his face and smiled, "i love you."

he kissed you once more on the lips and replied, "i love you. now and forever." <3

[vikkirosko]

Hi I'm not sure if you write for velvette but if you do could you do a reader who makes weapons and is the youngest daughter of Carmilla with step dad zestial(I ship the two of them) I love a little family drama.

❤ Velvette x fem!Reader headcanons Family drama 🤍

Velvette and you have been in a relationship for a long time. She gave you the most beautiful outfits created by her hands, she invited you on dates and took a huge number of photos of you together. Velvette knew what your favorite colors were, she knew how beautiful your smile was, what you loved to eat and how often you could immerse yourself in your work, so much so that you could forget about sleeping and eating. Velvette knew that you were involved in the manufacture of weapons and that was all she knew about your work. She wouldn't have known any more if she hadn't come to the meeting of the overlords and seen you there with a calm expression on your face, sitting next to Clara and Odette. It was at this moment that Velvette noticed how obvious the similarities between you, Clara, Odette and Carmilla were. You were part of their family

Velvette didn't talk to you openly, but she smiled at you and winked, making you blush. This did not escape the eyes of your mother and Zestial, who was your foster father. That is why, as soon as the meeting ended, Carmilla in a firm voice told Velvette to stay. You both knew exactly what it was going to be about. As soon as the other overlords left, Velvette came up to you and hugged you around the waist, then pulled you to her and kissed you on the lips, causing surprised and confused expressions on your sisters' faces, concern on Zestial's face and anger on your mother's face. Velvette and Carmilla didn't get along, and the fact that you were dating Velvette didn't make her happy at all. Your girlfriend saw this and deliberately continued, as if wanting to show your mother how close you were

Velvette bluntly stated, looking at the faces of your family members, that you were dating her and she was not going to end your relationship. Carmilla had a lot to say, but Velvette took you away, saying that the most romantic date imaginable awaits you. It was only in the elevator that she asked you if you even planned to tell her that you were (Y/N) Carmine. You sighed heavily and honestly told me that you are the youngest daughter in your family and you usually make weapons, because this was what you always did best. You knew about the mutual hostility between your mother and your girlfriend, so you didn't tell Velvette about your family and you didn't tell your family that you have a girlfriend. You understood the chaos created by Velvette's actions and when you returned home you had to deal with everything

Upon returning home, you had a long conversation with your mother. Carmilla couldn't understand what you found in someone like Velvette, and you tried to convince your mom that your girlfriend wasn't as bad as she might seem. The result of your conversation was a quarrel, because of which you went to your room, where your sisters soon came, and Zestial tried to calm your mother, realizing that, although Velvette was not the most pleasant person, but you chose her yourself, which means you really loved her. In your room, you told Clara and Odette about how great Velvette could be, and you showed them some photos from your dates. Your sisters saw how happy you were together and how much you, their younger sister whom they cared about, were in love. It was the first time you were so happy and they weren't going to get in your way, at least not until Velvette did something to get them to step in

When you were alone, you called Velvette to tell her what happened. Soon your conversation turned to a completely different topic. Velvette loved hearing your joyful voice and you chatted for hours until you had to go to bed. You both didn't know that Carmilla was coming to your door, intending to talk to you, but when she heard you happily chatting with your girlfriend on the phone, she stopped, not daring to interrupt you. She hasn't heard your happy voice for a long time. It was really difficult for Carmilla to accept your relationship with Velvette, but the happiness and well-being of the family came first for her, and if you needed Velvette for happiness, then she had to try to accept it

[goswamihospitech]

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[lecsainz]

PICTURES

parings: harry styles x actress!reader

request: Hey, saw u write for Harry Styles! Can u do a oneshot where y/n's parents r famous actors, she n Harry got somethin' goin' on but ain't makin' it official. He's on the Take Me Home tour when she calls him to sort things out 'cause paparazzi pics with other girls surfaced, but he didn't actually cheat.

authors note: OMG haven't written anything about harry in years, like seriously, this brought back sooo many memories 😭

☆. . . masterlist !

Y/N Aniston was the daughter of a renowned actress, yes, Jennifer Aniston herself. She grew up with the media at her feet, and just like her mother, she chose to follow a career in acting. Little did she know that due to her fame, she would end up meeting a singer from one of the biggest boy bands of 2013, who would bring her a lot of headaches.

Harry and Y/N crossed paths during the VMAs, in line for the bathroom. They don't remember when exactly, but at some point during the night, they found themselves in her limousine, having a quickie. However, that quick encounter became a regular thing whenever they met up.

And Y/N developed feelings for the green-eyed boy. She liked him a lot. Maybe she even loved him.

Harry had embarked on the Take Me Home tour, and some photos of him with other girls had been taken by paparazzi. Even though they weren't officially an item, her heart shattered nonetheless. Those pictures felt like daggers to her heart, and they hurt like hell.

And here she was, sitting on her bed, heart almost racing out of her chest, waiting for Harry to appear on the screen.

"Y/N!" Harry's face popped up on the screen, lying on the tour bus bed with a sleepy yet adoring smile.

She managed a small smile, her nerves getting the best of her. "Hey, Harry."

His eyes sparkled as he looked at her. "Missed you."

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. Despite everything, the sound of those three simple words from him still had a powerful effect on her.

"Missed you too," she admitted, her voice soft.

They talked about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing as naturally as it always did between them. But as the minutes ticked by, Y/N knew she couldn't avoid the elephant in the room any longer.

"Harry, about those pictures..." she trailed off, her heart racing.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N, I'm so sorry you had to see those."

She looked down, feeling a mix of emotions. "It's just... hard, you know?"

Harry's expression softened. "I know, love. They're not what they seem."

She raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, they're not real," he confessed, his voice earnest. "It's all a publicity stunt, arranged by Simon."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "What? Why?"

"He wants to maintain that image, make me appear as the 'ladies' man' for the fans," Harry explained, frustration evident in his voice. "But it's all a facade. I hate it."

Y/N felt a mix of relief and anger. Relief that the pictures weren't real, and anger that she had been hurt by something so manufactured.

"I had no idea," she admitted, her voice softer now.

Harry's eyes bore into hers. "Y/N, you know I care about you, right?"

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, I do."

"I'm not looking for meaningless flings, Y/N," he said, his voice determined. "I want something real."

She felt her heart race, hope stirring within her. "Harry..."

Just then, the atmosphere on the tour bus shifted as the other members of One Direction appeared on the screen, grinning widely.

"Hey, is that Y/N?" Niall's voice chimed in.

"Y/N!" Louis exclaimed, waving enthusiastically.

“Our favorite girl!" Zayn added.

Y/N chuckled, her heart swelling with fondness for the boys. "Hi, guys! I miss you all."

"We miss you too!" Niall exclaimed.

Y/N's cheeks turned slightly pink as she greeted the rest of the band. She had known them for a while now, having met them through Harry. They had always been incredibly welcoming and friendly towards her.

"Long time no see," Liam said with a warm smile. "How've you been?"

Y/N chuckled. "Oh, you know, just taking over the world."

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. "As if she hasn't already."

Zayn smirked. "You're in good company, Y/N."

Niall leaned in closer to the camera. "Harry talks about you all the time."

Y/N shot Harry a teasing look. "Oh, really? What kind of things does he say?"

Harry's cheeks turned a light shade of pink. "Just good things."

Louis wiggled his eyebrows. "We can all tell he's smitten."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, feeling a sense of camaraderie with the guys. She had seen them at their goofiest and most genuine moments, and she was grateful for the bond they shared.

"Well, Y/N, if Harry doesn't treat you right, you know where to find us," Zayn said with a wink.

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Zayn. I'll keep that in mind."

"We saw those pictures, by the way," Louis said, his tone slightly teasing.

Y/N's cheeks flushed, but she managed a sheepish smile. "Yeah, I guess they're making quite a buzz."

Niall rolled his eyes. "Don't take those too seriously. They're just playing with ya."

"Yeah, Simon probably thought it was good for marketing," Liam added.

Zayn nodded. "It's all part of the game."

Y/N let out a sigh of relief, feeling their genuine support. "Thanks, guys. It's just been a bit overwhelming."

"We know, love," Louis said, his eyes softening. "But remember, you're stronger than the headlines."

Zayn chimed in. "Harry's been a mess ever since those pictures surfaced."

Louis nodded. "Yeah, he's been moping around like a lost puppy."

Y/N's lips curved into a grateful smile. "Thanks, guys. Your words mean a lot to me."

"Anytime, Y/N," Niall grinned. "Now, you make sure to keep our Harry in line, okay?"

Zayn chuckled. "Yeah, we can't have him causing any more trouble."

Harry pouted playfully. "Hey, I'm a changed man."

"Sure you are," Louis quipped, earning a laugh from everyone.

Harry leaned closer to the camera, his voice soft. "They adore you, you know."

Y/N's smile grew warmer. "I can tell. And I adore them too."

The connection was beginning to falter, the image on the screen slightly pixelated as Harry's voice crackled. "I wish I could hear your laugh properly right now."

Y/N chuckled, the sound distorted by the poor signal. "We'll have to fix that soon."

Harry's expression turned more serious. "Y/N, I've been thinking... I want to talk about this face-to-face. This distance between us, it's not fair."

Her heart skipped a beat, hope and apprehension mingling in her chest. "Harry..."

"I mean it," he said with determination. "I want to have an honest conversation, in person. No screens, no miles between us."

Y/N nodded, her own resolve strengthening. "Okay, Harry. When?"

"I'll be back in a few weeks," he replied. "After this leg of the tour. We can find a place to meet up."

She felt a mixture of emotions, excitement and nerves intermingling. "I look forward to it."

"I do too," Harry said softly. "I want us to have a proper conversation, Y/N. No misunderstandings, no miscommunications."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with anticipation. "I want that too."

As the signal continued to weaken, Harry's voice grew fainter. "I'll see you soon, Y/N."

"Can't wait," she whispered, her voice barely reaching him.

And then, with a final wave and a promise in their eyes, the call disconnected, leaving Y/N with a renewed sense of hope and a countdown to the day when they would bridge the physical and emotional distance that had grown between them.

[hoseoksluna]

HEAVEN-SENT | knj

pairing: idol!friend!namjoon x f. reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.8k

summary: when a certain bad experience with a guy makes you run to namjoon, he heals you and changes you once and for all.

warnings: lack of willful consent in a way, crying, religion, smoking (namjoon smokes a cig, reader vapes), the context of this fic is of sexual relations though none are described, heavy daddy issues.

note: after i sat down to write last chapter of berries, i discovered that i simply couldn't because of what happened to me this week. there was nothing left for me to do, but to run to namjoon in my head and let him heal me. yes, unfortunately, the events that i wrote about in this fic happened to me. the dream, i had it last night. and the consolation in the form of words in the fic, i constructed it from everything my friends told me. to be honest, i feel deeply healed. i finished it in two hours or so and i feel so much better. now, like the reader i put myself into, i'm gonna take a shower and wash everything away. i'll be able to write berries after that. i love you, guys. sorry, if this is triggering in any way. i just needed to get it out.

“I think I heard… God in that dream.” 

Your words create a wisp of tenderness in the air. Saddened, moist with the tears that sting in the back of your eyes. The sun of the summer has descended, hid beneath the city—and you feel as though the same occurred in your life, despite the fact you’re being held by someone who holds the skyscrapers and the manufactured greenery in between like a burden on his shoulders and could easily stop its departure if only he looked up to the heavens with puppy eyes. 

God would’ve nodded. Flicked his fingers. The source of light and warmth would’ve paused, stared down on you, shone a little more mercifully. Beckon you out to breath in the fresh air, breathe in the protectiveness you find yourself to be in the middle of. 

God protected you from a boy who had different intentions from you, led you into the arms of a man who’s able to take your pain and transform it into an eternal artwork of beauty and importance. A harmonious poetry, mixed with English and Korean, flooded with colors akin to the ones your eyes would stumble across on a field of wildflowers. 

It’s where you are right now. No blanket, just the soil, the blossoms, the warmth from Namjoon’s body, your bruised knees and rawly abraded elbows—your injury from earlier that the boy feignedly kissed, but didn’t care much about. A means to get you into bed, nothing else. A banana vape in your fist while Namjoon holds his cigarette backwards, shielding the smoke with his palm, even though you’ve told him multiple times that you didn’t mind it. 

You smoked so much of them with him within the hours you spent here and didn’t receive any sort of alleviation from it that you grew a certain distaste for it in your mouth. Settled for the sweetness of your vape. Enjoyed it as much as you enjoyed Namjoon’s closeness and a sense of safety that he radiated as he let you rest your head on his clavicle, leaning his entire weight on just one hand, and nothing else. 

So unlike the boy, who would’ve kissed your feet if you let him take the endeavor further like he wanted. 

You were on a first date with a boy you didn’t even know for a week. With a boy who stuck his tongue down your throat. Almost fondled the most private parts of your body, had you not stopped him. And who didn’t drive you home after. 

The prose of the shallow, insolent face of a young male, who didn’t want to be provided with your love and empathy, who kissed you to shut you up, in fact. And the demons of your brokenness, conspired with your father complex, manipulated you into believing that he was moved by it, rather than repulsed by it as his only objective was getting you comfortable enough so you willingly give over something that doesn’t belong to him. 

Your purity. Your private parts. Your femininity. 

Two days later after the date, you had a dream. While you slept beside your best friends who spent the night smoking with you on the stairs outside of their apartment, helping you realize the truth—popping your bubble of pink vapor gained from the kiss and the male attention you’ve always had so little of. Many dreams swam past your sleeping consciousness, but only one resurfaced upon waking up. 

A large beige room; a man standing in the middle of it as he made your bed while you stood clutching your pajamas to your broken, dejected form. You were looking at him, regarding him from head to toe. From his shortly cut, blond hair, to his broad shoulders and toned, muscular arms that would lift you without blinking. From the tank top he wore, to the dark shorts. And once you viewed the same bruises on his body that were on yours, concealed from his sight and awareness, you heard a gentle voice inside your heart. A voice, entwined with the purest form of love, which told you that this was the man you were supposed to be with, not the boy you were seeing. 

You listened to the voice, obeyed it in a way that you didn’t quite understand—silently, tenderly. While you internally quivered in fear in regards to the male species. You were frightened of the man who was taking care of you—not because of who he was or what he potentially had done or would have done, but because of a very simple reason. 

He was a man. 

And you didn’t trust them. 

Not anymore. 

Namjoon was different. Namjoon was a man who was your friend for the longest time. A poet who nurtured his life. Who viewed the world’s secret poetry and sought it in every way he could. He was as much like you as you were like him. But you weren’t his and he wasn’t yours. 

It wasn’t written in the prosaic constitution of this wretched world; and never will be. 

He’s not the man in the dream. 

He never made your bed, although he would if you needed it. But his heart doesn’t belong to love. It is tied to the arts; tied to the people he takes care of, works hard for. His heart belongs to his voice. 

And his voice was silenced in deep indignation when you told him what happened to you. He’s known you for years; he’s known of your lack of manliness in your life—has supported it for as long as he’s walked beside you. Wrote you poems about how perhaps that’s what life is. Aloneness and the arts, the heartbreak if it crawls inside and what you do with it after. You’ve read them, worshiped them, obeyed them, even though your need for love always persisted within you. 

And it led you here. Back to him, needing his poems, although now your deeper brokenness asks for his recitation. 

But he’s still silent. 

Not silent to your pain, however. Not silent to the tornado in your sternum that makes you pause between your words due to its intensity. That makes you look at the leaves of the grass instead of the earth within the pools of his eyes. But you can feel the strength of his indignation that is mightier than the whirlwind in your bones. And it’s warm, so terribly warm, growing warmer the longer he looks at you, in spite of the lowering of the heat of the sun and the evening sweeping past the field, the coldness of the soil as if it never had been touched by that heat. 

Like you, almost. 

“I think it was him who told me that,” you continue, brushing your thumb over your yellowing bruise upon your knee from your injury. “It’s why I remember the dream so vividly. Why it made me never want to see the guy again. Why it suddenly made me understand why my friends reacted the way they did when I told them what happened.” 

You believe it, and nothing could cover your belief due to its force—its quiet, tender force that graces you with a little bit of strength to be here with him, to be able to share it with him with the said understanding and calmness, calmness so akin to nothingness. 

How delightful it is, that state of emotions. 

You feel as though you’re telling the story of another person. Perhaps Namjoon has done it in you by letting you talk without interrupting like your friends did. They outburst so colorfully and it made you feel so small and so stupid. Namjoon did no such thing—through his silence he put great meaning into your story. 

And it feels nice. More than nice. You appreciate it with the little you’re able to feel towards a man. 

“Why did you let him kiss you again?” Namjoon asks, softly, breaking that nearly long season of his silence with the kind of gentleness that only he’s capable of. 

He must be a different breed, you conclude. One you’ll never have the opportunity to know, intimately. 

Your mouth rounds in a faint pout because you know your answer, and sheepishly you camouflage it by taking a puff of your vape, expecting the banana flavor to give you the courage you need in order to say it. 

You hear Namjoon follow you suit, sucking on the bud of his cigarette before he puts it out in yours and his makeshift ashtray—a bottle of water that you both drank. The hiss and the dying out drives you quicken your scrambling of bravery and you don’t really know where that vague sense of impatience comes from. 

Namjoon is anything but impatient. 

You sigh, taking another puff, blowing it into the wind, watching it where it takes it to. Wish you were taken elsewhere, too. By an invisible hand that means well. Take you to a place of joy and respect, of devotion and care. 

You wonder if a place like this exists, at all. 

“Because…” you trail off, the tornado in you thickening, threatening your calmness and you can’t stop the blooming of your pout, the deepening of it, either. “Because it was my first real kiss with a guy and I wanted experiences like that. I wanted to live. I wanted to have what everyone else has so easily.” 

A beat of silence. The tornado enlarges. And you feel as though you were in the middle of it, not the other way around. The raw truth, you’ve said it. Thank God you said it to a person that knows he must handle it with care. It’s the reason why you ran to him. Why you invariably do. 

“But he didn’t have your consent. He didn’t ask for it, so he didn’t have it. He just grabbed your head and kissed you. And because you wanted experiences doesn’t mean he had your consent.” 

You furrow your brows, out of step with him. “It was me who kissed him at one point. I even bit his lip.” 

For some reason, your uttered words cause you to look at him. With his arms wrapped around his knees and hands interlocked, he scowls. His scrunched brows cast a shadow upon his marble face, upon the thin line of his tightly pressed lips, and you fear you did something wrong. 

“Did you kiss him because you wanted to kiss him or did you kiss him because you wanted experiences?” 

That question shocks you and you can’t speak. You swivel your head back in shame, tipping it, and you twiddle your thumbs, the answer raw and obvious, out in the open without needing any transportation of words.

You felt comfortable with the guy. Had chemistry with him that would run deeper if you were on the same page as him. But there was something about him, which you still can’t pinpoint, that built a translucent wall between your heart and him. You didn’t find him attractive enough to kiss. You didn’t expect to be kissed either by the end of the date. But you went on with it for one sole reason. 

The tornado explodes through you and Namjoon can feel it. 

He places a hand on your shoulder. Makes you look at him with that singular gesture and your eyes well with tears, the residue and effect of the explosion. 

“Never, and I mean never, do that again. Never do things that you aren’t innately hungry for and never do them in order to live a life you think you should,” he says and it’s a proverb that must be written in the book that had opened within your dream. “I don’t believe in God, but I do believe that you were protected from that piece of shit, who had the audacity to put his hands on you.” 

And there it is, the recitation of a different poem, one you didn’t quite want, but find yourself to be in need of. Your tears flow without direction, dripping onto the petals of the violet and pink wildflowers that brush against your legs with every breath of the wind. 

And you nod. 

Maybe they needed it, too. Maybe that’s why you’re here, why God put that lesson in your life that made you run to Namjoon. He took your hand and gave you a role. 

To be a helper of his. 

Quench the thirst of the flowers and quench yours, too, through that work. 

“No one is allowed to think they can touch you like that on the first date. I know how guys think. They think that because they paid for you, they paid for your body—and I’d kill them for that if I could,” he breathes out, waggling your shoulder to emphasize the importance of his words. And you breathe them in, consider them the scolding of a father, one that is done out of love and care and one that is good for you. Not meant to harm, not meant to express the voice of his upper hand. It’s meant for you. For your well-being. “He was dead to me the moment you told me you had to stop his hand from going further down. And the moment you told me he didn’t drive you home at night. That’s not someone you experience life with. That’s someone you walk past.” 

You nod and you sob, weaving your way into his step, believing his words—the depth of them, the meaning of them, the end to the sentence piercing your heart because that’s how you met the guy. He stopped you on the street and chatted you up. Gave you a false sense of comfort and safety.

Namjoon kisses your worth over and over again, clutches your brokenness and puts it together with his gentle touch—all through his grip on your shoulder, through the verses of his poem. 

He doesn’t dare to go further. Because he’s respectful, because he’s older, because he cares for you, regards you as human and not a piece of meat meant for satisfactory purposes. Thrown away after the deed is done. 

You take mental notes of those attributes. Write them somewhere upon your flesh to remember later on. 

Respectful. Older. Caring. 

The antonyms of the boy you were seeing. 

“Someone will come along who will serve life to you on a silver platter. He will find you and he will respect you. Will be afraid to touch you because of how golden you are; afraid to stain you. He will love you and only then will you love him back. That’s how you’ll know he’s the one. He’ll love you first,” Namjoon recites on, your tears dropping onto the back of his hand and trickling down his fingers. He grasps your hand and you feel the liquid of your understanding on his skin. Somehow it locks it in. “He’ll wait before he kisses you. And you’ll be filled with so much longing to kiss him that you’ll feel like bursting. That’s how it should be.” 

You nod for the last time, overwhelmed, but changed. You believe the tornado won’t find you for a long time—for as long as Namjoon is here. 

“Don’t rush. Do what you love to do, your hobbies. Read. You’re not missing out. You’re living already. You’re alive. You’re experiencing life, even if it means you’re doing it in the company of your friends, in a platonic realm. It counts.” 

The last stanza. 

He hugs you. Grateful, healed, reassured—he seeps those new attributes in you by giving names to them as he wraps his arms around you and you perceive that’s precisely what you’re feeling. 

Grateful. Healed. Reassured. 

And you perceive he showed you how love is meant to be expressed. The man does it first. 

And when a storm rolls in and the wildflowers startle against your skin, Namjoon walks you home. Doesn’t leave until he knows you’re safe inside. 

Heals what he didn’t break. Reteaches what you’ve been wrongly taught. 

You’re living. You’re alive. You repeat those words to yourself as you undress yourself and wash away the wrong touch from your body, this time with great consciousness and will. And the vapor from the water, different from the one that was conjured from your madness of falsely living, seals in Namjoon’s touch on your skin, writes upon it the stanzas of his proverb. 

You’ll remember them the next time. 

And there will be a next time because you’re living. You’re alive. 

Namjoon is a different breed because he must be an angel, dressed in white as he was. A helper just like you, ordained by God he doesn’t believe in for you. 

Otherwise he wouldn’t be in your life at all because while you quenched your thirst, he filled up your hungry belly. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

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[oleander-nin]

Horrortober Day 3- Run(Yandere Rise Donnie x Reader)

A/N, not important: this idea was from my friend @rex-ray! They're wonderful and I adore them. ALSO! Donnie is OOC in this. I say this because his mannerisms are purposefully dramatized and unstable. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: Breaking bones, Donnie being OOC, shock collar, yandere themes, dark themes

Words: 1862

Summary: Donnie gets bored and wants you to run.

You kick the door of what Donatello called the ‘misbehavior room’, anger and frustration bubbling up in your chest. It wasn’t fair. You had barely talked back and he stuck you in here again without so much as a warning. You walk back to the small bed he provided, falling onto it with a groan. The mattress wheezed under your wait, sinking down and molding around your body. Your eyes meet the ceiling, a blank stare marking your face. Nothing about this was fair. You just wanted to go home, to be free of the purple terrapin once and for all.

It had been almost an hour since he first put you in here. Or, you assumed it had been at least an hour. Maybe it had been no more than ten minutes, or maybe a full day had passed. You had no way of telling, the room stripped of anything that might help you. Your cheeks puff out as you try and think of a way to escape, your eyes burning from the bright light on the ceiling. It annoyed you to no end, the light never turned and made it harder to just sleep the punishment away.

The room was warm, warmer than his lab. It was just shy of uncomfortable, but not enough to cause you harm. It was just supposed to be a room you hated to be in, and Donatello had manufactured that perfectly. It was a shame you kept ending up in it.

The sound of a lock clicking out of place catches your attention, your eyes drifting to the door. You sit up as the mechanical door slides open and reveals the lab just outside, cool air rushing in and chasing the heat away. Donatello stood in the doorway, his eyes uncommunicative to any thoughts or feelings he had. You lay back down on the slightly uncomfortable mattress, having no desire to converse with your purple banded kidnapper.

“Someone’s grumpy.” He mutters, taking a step into the room. You don’t fail to notice him leaving the door wide open. He moves farther into the room and comes to a stop by your side, his eyes following yours towards the door. He looks down at you, his face still carefully neutral and not giving anything away. He stays silent for a moment, eyes flicking back and forth between your own and the door. He exhales slowly, the careful mask slipping for a moment and giving way to the rage just below the surface.

“Run.”

You blank, sitting up fully and glancing towards the door. “Excuse me?”

“I said, run. You’ve wanted to escape since I brought you here, have you not? Well, the doors wide open. Run.”

You stare at Donnie in slight confusion, but get up either way and start to hesitantly head towards the door, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth. This was not an opportunity you were going to waste, no matter how strange it be. 

“By the way,” Donnie starts in a low tone right as you reach the door. You pause for a moment, letting him know you were listening. “Despite what you may be thinking, this is not a free leave. I will be chasing. You have a three minute head start. For your sake, I hope I don’t catch you.”

You don’t hesitate any longer, bolting through the lab and into the hall, taking a sharp turn towards the maze of sewers. Your socked feet pad against the ground, the cloth muffling your steps as you run. The lair fades behind you, adrenaline flowing through you and pushing you to run faster. Farther. You didn’t want to find out just what Donnie had planned if he caught you. You highly doubted it would be something as simple as another couple hours in isolation.

Your foot hits water and you gag, stumbling slightly before righting yourself and continuing on. You couldn’t afford to trip, not with Donatello right behind you. You briefly contemplate the terms of the chase. Was there a time limit before you ‘won’? Or a distance you needed to reach? A small, horrible feeling settles deep in you, infecting every part of your person as you realize there may not be a way to win. You shake your head, pushing the thought away. No, no there must be a way for you to win. There has to be. You just need to make it to the surface, that was a reasonable place to get to. You try your best to ignore how Donatello was never reasonable when it came to you.

You take a sharp left through the sewers, the ground slick and unforgiving. You refused to take a break, not wanting to slow down for even a second. This may be the only shot at freedom you ever get. Your lungs burn from the run, your legs cramping. Donatello, while expressing trying to maintain your health, never let you run like this. Treadmills could only simulate so much.

You duck into a tunnel, trying to catch your breath for a slight second. Your brain is screaming at you, telling you to run and run and never stop, but your body refuses. You had been sitting for less than a minute, and you could already hear the quiet hum of Donatello’s approaching battle-shell. You duck farther in, hoping more than anything the shadows would conceal you enough.

You focus your ears, trying to pinpoint the hum of the tech that was moving ever closer, your eyes darting around in an attempt to see where he was coming from. Your brain barely registers the arms that loop around your waist and tug you into the sharp plastron of the mutant softshell, a scream being ripped from your lips before you even have time to process it.

“Shhhh,” He murmurs against your ear, his chin resting against your shoulder. “It was a good run, baby. You did so well.”

Your lower lip trembles as he picks you up, holding you firmly in his arms even as you start to thrash and struggle. He brings you out of the tunnel the way he came in, the wide mouth opening up to show a manhole cover and a ladder to the surface, just barely twenty feet from where you hid.

The realization of how close you were to escaping, how close you were to your freedom, hits you like a truck. You go quiet in Donatello’s arms, your eyes watering as you start to sob. He simply grins smugly as he walks you back to the lair, seeing the excursion as nothing more than a game. Well, to him, it was a game. Setting you off with high hopes and being able to chase you down was exhilarating for him, a high to chase off the frustration you had caused. He smiles down at you. It was too bad you still needed to be punished for the excursion, he couldn’t let you get away with running after all. There were still rules to follow.

He brings you back to the lab, his dark eyes lighter than they had been in weeks. He kisses your forehead, setting you down on a table in his lab. He cups your cheeks, looking down at you softly. “I told you you shouldn’t have let me catch you.”

You look up at him, fear and confusion laced in your eyes. “You told me to run…”

Your protests mean nothing to him, a small smile fixed on his face as he rolls his shoulders, looking more relaxed than he had in weeks. “I did. And you really did so well, I must admit. However,” His smile turns more sinister as his eyes darken once more. “I did warn you not to let me catch you. You could’ve stayed back, but you took the chance. I’m not letting you off scot free for that.”

Your heart drops and your sobs grow, Donnie racing under the table he had you on to grab a familiar collar. It was purple and sleek, a much more refined version than the one he had given his older brother all those years ago. Your eyes widen, knowing exactly what the object was and the pain it brought, your panic rising significantly as you try to jump off the table. Donnie wraps his arms around you, keeping you still. He glares down at you, not impressed with your attempt to avoid the collar. He grabs your chin and holds you firmly, his eyes meeting yours and all earlier peasantry gone.

“Don’t fight me.” He snaps, giving your jaw a harsh squeeze. He drops your chin and brings the collar around your neck, pressing a button and watching in satisfaction as it shrinks until it is skin tight. His eyes trail over you for a moment, his eyes landing on your legs before snapping back to your face. You shift uncomfortably, but don’t dare speak or move lest he decide to activate the collar.

He takes a double hook with no chain in between, snapping one end to your collar and shoving your head down before snapping the other to a sunken rod in the table. You grimace, trying to pull your head up, your hands clawing at the hooks in an attempt to get them undone. A small beep sounds and you freeze instinctively before your nerves shout out, every inch of your skin feeling as if it had been lit on fire. Your hands clench and your muscles spasm, making it hard for you to even move. The shock ends, your breathing heavy as you try to relax the muscles in your body. Donnie had upped the charge.

You shakily put your hands down on the table, residual spams coursing through your limbs. You don’t even notice the needle Donnie had produced until it was in your hip, the sting from the injection bringing you back to your senses. You look at the needle in confusion and slight fear, your vision hazy.

“What was that?” You ask, your speech slurring as you feel your body grow heavier and sink on the table. Donnie glances up, and you barely recognize him. You may hate him, but there was something beneath his eyes you just couldn’t place. Something terrifying just below the surface.

“Hush.” He says, checking your reflexes and looking satisfied when they’re much slower then normal. Your body feels heavy, as if a small weight had been placed on each section. He walks down the table until his hand rests on your left leg, his eyes cloudy with anger.

“You know,” He drawls, picking up your leg and lightly squeezing the calf. Your breath hitches as your eyes water. He couldn’t. Gosh, you hoped he wouldn’t. A scream is stuck in your throat, your lips unable to part to let it loose. “This really is your fault. I was going to settle for the collar, but after you threw such a fit over it, I can see you really haven’t learned a thing. Your actions have consequences, and it’s time you learn.”

The first bone snaps and you sob.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Homelander being obsessed with his sister HC V

Warnings: siblingxsibling implications, Homelander being such a narcissist that he falls in "love" with his own sibling, dubcon, manipulation, stalking, basically all the horrible parts of HL come out to play, MC has blonde hair and blue eyes like HL, different plot than 'All I Ever Wanted, All I Ever Needed', stockholm syndrome, dealing with aftermath, mental trauma

I II III IV

Oh you poor fool, did you really think Homelander would keep to his word? No, this only meant that he had to act under your radar. Stealth was required now to feed his desire to be close to you always.

He let you think that he was taking a step back. Grudgingly let you resume your previous life though you found little comfort in the family you once lived with. Time with HL changed you. Everything you'd known about your life was an utter lie manufactured by Vought. The hero you'd adored was. . . a complicated creature that wasn't like the golden man on the tv.

HL will draft thousands of texts to you but hesitate on sending them to you. He'll break and send you at least a text every other day. Tolerable, you think. You didn't know that he'd be using his enhanced vision to watch you read them and gauge your reaction.

Now is the time that stalker HL comes out to play since he can't be caught or you really would never forgive him. He didn't want another fight. He hated fighting you. It fought against his natural instinct to protect you. Plus you packed a punch that actually bruised his ribcage making it difficult for him to breathe for the next two days.

Often on his patrol breaks (and when he knows you aren't home) he'll fly by your apartment just to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary. You know, checking your drawers just to reassure himself that you were taking care of yourself and doing your own laundry. Particularly your undergarments.

Careful not to leave a trace when he does these inspections. Never staying too long.

You're non the wiser when you return to your apartment although you do notice how you have to buy more underwear lately.

He likes to keep the clothes he's taken from you under his pillow. When he goes to bed he pulls them out from their hiding place and places it next to his face.

your absence in his own apartments is suffocatingly pronounce

he hates how quiet it is, hates how his room is so empty without you there

and grudgingly you miss his familiar presence too

Your bed is suddenly too large without Homelander laying next to you. You hated when he'd pull you close to his chest in the middle of the night, refusing to relinquish you even if you had to pee.

You find yourself actually missing him and fuck does that make you resent him more. He completely uprooted your life. Him and Vought.

When exactly did you starting hating him less to actual start contact with him? You hate that you cracked after three days of being away from Homelander. Three days and you missed him like you hadn't seen him in a week. Hell, you'd been stuck with him for close to two months before enough was enough. That time spent together, all that trauma bonding, was bound to leave it's mark on you.

Loathing the idea that you may have developed a degree of Stockholm Syndrome. You'd read about it in books and seen it played out hundreds of times on tv.

You're annoyed when you close your laptop after spending hours of research. Especially after encountering this little passage: "An alternative explanation suggests that being in a captive or abusive situation generates intense emotional dynamics. Over time, individuals may adapt their emotions and develop feelings of compassion towards their abuser, particularly when subjected to kindness."

For the most part, Homelander had been kind to you (except, ya'know the whole fucking kidnapping thing). There were definitely moments where he made you uncomfortable but overall his intentions weren't necessarily malicious.

You recall a few times when Homelander leaned in too close to you and you thought. . . well you thought he was going to kiss you. But wouldn't that be messed up? Why would he do that? You didn't quite understand those odd moments where it sounded- it sounded like he was in love with you. There was nothing familial about the way he'd eye you.

In a short amount of time Homelander had done so much damage to your mental health. You found yourself unable to be without him. Perhaps that was the cruelest thing he's done to you.

[secretboots]

♡ seen bits of the route where peter amputates one of Y/N's legs and my brain decided to blurb a bit on that ♡

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

fandom: your boyfriend

tags: HCs, word salad, disturbing themes (kidnapping, at-home amputation), graphic description of medical procedures, peter being peter, not edited b/c i'm too lazy to bother

he's read the relevant material. watched the videos, studied the basic techniques- so for a night, he can be a surgeon. for one night, he can be the man who manufactures the hurdle that keeps you safe with him. swallow the distant, queasy horror that comes at the prospect of hurting you, because sometimes, love hurts.

and then it heals. that's the deal, that is the living truth etched into every bone, every muscle, every fibre that makes peter dunbar.

love hurts. it heals, it frightens, it comforts, and you? you are love. at least, the closest to it he's ever been. perfection, resplendent, in human form.

so it's worth it.

it was worth preparing your room.

organising the instruments on your bedside table with a cold resolution settling heavy in his stomach, protecting your bed with a shower curtain stretched taut across the mattress, and laying you down to rest on that sterile field with all the tender care of a heartsick lover. brushing a kiss to your shin, a wordless apology offered to the part of you he has no choice but to part with. it hurts him more than it hurts you. he wants all of you, whole and undamaged.

it hurts him more than it hurts you.

you can't feel the tourniquet twisting, twisting, twisting into place around your thigh. you aren't forced to mark the tibial tubercle, or the anterior and posterior incisions. you can't feel when he makes his first cut, the way his soul shrieks for just a second of rational thought when he guides his vertical incision with shaking hands over the anterior crest of your tibia. identifying and misidentifying those perfect, delicate nerves and resecting them, dissecting muscle and ligating the thick, gorgeous tibial artery with a gasping prayer that the tourniquet holds.

but peter, he feels it.

he feels it when he pulls back the flap that will become the stump, when he marks the fibula cut and the saw whines to life. peter feels it, in his blood, when he saws through sweet tibia and blood-pinkened water speckles his face. he feels it, when he transects and tapers the masterwork that is the posterior musculature, brows pinched tight with the hope he's done it right.

it's amateurish, the way he closes the wound and prays to a power he's never believed in, that his stitches aren't so tight they rot the fatty stump of your knee. and he's sorry, you're beautiful, he loves you so much, and he's so, so sorry.

but the life he has laid out for you is one that comes with sacrifice.

so he can accept the fact that you screamed and sobbed when you woke up and the drugs wore off, though the sound of your voice so broken fractured his psyche into miserable, tiny little fragments that each cry their self-hatred and vitriol for what he's done. because he can fix it- fix you, you just need time to see! to understand! he can kiss away your tears and whisper his hollow apologies when he checks your dressing every day, and again when he feeds you antibiotics and checks your drain tube for the little markers of surgical complications.

he can hold you tight even when you punch and scratch and kick, and he can promise he buried your leg somewhere pretty, because there is no world that exists where peter handles any piece of you with anything less than love and reverence.

he knows it hurts, love, when you need to move. but movement is crucial to recovery, and the leg raises are a safe start to the long, beautiful road ahead. you're so strong, and it's okay to cry- his shoulder exists to catch your tears. you're doing so well, and it's for your own good. one day, when you understand, he can find you a pretty new leg, and then- and then! then, it will be like none of this ever happened. you'll walk, you'll run, you'll go outside again, one day. together. happy, and together.

but first you need to be honest. with him, with yourself.

you love him, don't you? he knows you do. you just don't know how it feels to love and be loved in turn. he's learning to cook, just for you! your favourite meals, so you don't need to worry about making them yourself. that's love. the way he holds you, like you're something precious and fleeting that he can't ever let go of. the way he dresses your residual limb and peppers kisses across your knee and helps you through the physio he'd researched just for you, because while that piece of you is gone, he loves you all the more for it.

you don't know what it means to love. but you'll learn.

for your own sake, you'll learn.