Your bodyguard - or your lover?

[vivalaopenpost]

the bodyguard shipping meme You're a pop star, or a royal, or maybe even the last of your kind who will bring about the Earth's redemption. Whatever the case may be, you're in a position that may be a bit dicey if you attract the wrong kind of attention. And you're a bodyguard, a soldier, a knight - a protector. Somehow, you've been roped into protecting this person. You'll be rewarded, of course. The work may be cut out for you, but just do your job, keep your head down, and it'll go smooth. Except for when the two of you break the bounds of professionalism and feelings begin to flourish. Being in such close quarters may get you to see the other in a different light, and saving someone's life just may be the ultimate form of intimacy. Could this be the real danger? To feel so strongly for the one you've sworn to protect...are you compromised? How to Play 1. Comment with your character and preferences, being sure to put if you want to play the guard, the guarded, or either. Also, you may want to put if you prefer fluffy, angsty, or smutty interaction - or have no preference. 2. Comment to others. 3. There are no prompts, because there are so many potential options there could be a hundred. Feel free to play anything: the beginnings of the relationship, just meeting, getting used to each other/not getting along at first, the obligatory first time, a threat on the protected's life and how their protector responds, how the feelings between the two have changed the protection, etc. Your only limit is you.

Comments

Rykan ❂ OC ❂ m/m

[rykan]

[ Guarded, fluffy or angsty are fine, smutty with CR first ]

Ilia Amitola | RWBY | F/F

[moveimgay]

[ the guard. ]

[loneliest_of_all]

((ooc: Long time no see :P Do you want to do something with these two?))

[moveimgay]

[ ooc: oh yes hi!! absolutely! any ideas on where to go with these two, and did you want to assume previous stuff was meme canon for them or anything? ]

[loneliest_of_all]

(ooc: Hmm well if we make the previous thread canon then they'd be in Atlas. I could picture Weiss not walking around alone in those streets given she's a pretty big target. If that was the case one of the things I could see is Ilia trying to go subtle, maybe just out of habit, but something gets her noticed as a Faunus by some jeering jerks.

Weiss can't stand it so she ends up kissing Ilia very publicly. This showing she doesn't stand with them and also shifting some of the public attention from Ilia to herself.

If we wanted to AU it up further we could have Ilia and Weiss be from the same school so when Ilia's parents died and Ilia was outed as a Faunus Weiss steps up and tells everyone off for being so heartless as to ridicule her after something so terrible as losing a loved one.

She leaves to go to Beacon with Ilia, while they're friends Ilia could see the need to protect Weiss because I imagine there are definitely violent anti-Faunus groups and Weiss just turned herself into their enemy by very publicly making it clear why she went to Beacon.))

went ahead and ran with your idea; let me know how it works?

[moveimgay]

I can't believe you actually did that.

[ having just run away from that scene so swiftly, there was little time for Ilia to process all that had happened. one thing led to another, and before she knew it, a confrontation with some real "upstanding" citizens had turned serious, defused only by Weiss acting so unlike herself in an effort to... to, what, exactly? create a distraction? there were bound to be better ways to accomplish that than kissing her!

not that she should be complaining. oh, no, her mind's being drawn back to that moment and the way it made her feel. her heart is still racing not just from sprinting to cover. she had been trying to get control of her senses, to mask her skin's texture and return to the "neutral" tones that allowed her to pass for human all those years ago but she just. can't. not after that. ]

Tony Stark | MCU

[titaniumalloyman]

[Tony can either need a bodyguard, or be working as someone's bodyguard on Avenger's business.]

Mary Crawley | Downton Abbey | M/F

[thequitecontrary]

[ guarded. ]

keith | vld

[parakalein]

[ either or ]

Angela "Mercy" Zielger | Overwatch | ota

[merciful_medic]

[ Guarded. ]

daenerys targaryen | got | m/f

[decisiveconquest]

(Guarded, probably. Unless dragons are counted - then she could be a guard.)

trish walker | mcu | ota

[radioshows]

[ guarded ]

Re: trish walker | mcu | ota

[scoutsniper]

[yes/no/waffles? I can cook up a scenario!]

[radioshows]

[ sounds good to me! ]

[scoutsniper]

[He wouldn't call what he does 'freelancing'. That involves money, and this isn't something he wants to get paid for. Sure he'd gained his skills at a damn high price, but it wasn't the kind of price that dollars would fix.

And he's not sure she's aware she's being followed. He's stumbling along, watchcap low, blanket over his shoulders--nothing but another of NYC's fine urban outdoorsmen--watching the guy try way too fucking hard to be subtle, elbowing off the wall just as she rounds it.

The guy moves, suddenly, to close the distance.

That's Frank's cue--he moves, too, shrugging the blanket off his shoulders, racing after, pulling a pistol.]

Get DOWN! [In case he has to use the gun.]

[stretchy_girl]

[I don't know about shipping, but Gemini's a DC Comics metahuman, I'd love to try writing her as Trish's bodyguard and them both in hiding? Gemini doing the supply runs and Trish going stir crazy at being cooped up in the safehouse.]

Katsura Kotarou | Gintama | m/f

[lupinjanai]

[ The guard, most likely. ]

lettie | world of warcraft oc | ota

[melodiousness]

[ info here; happy to write starters; guarded, probably, otherwise is a terrible guard ]

Jyn Erso ;; Rogue One ;; OTA

[wherehopegoes]

[ooc: Either.]

Yukimura Chizuru | Hakuoki

[renascences]

[ guarded.]

benedict dearborn || original (demon hunter, exorcist) || m/m

[fumitory]

( Ben as bodyguard to yours over demonic or a generally malevolent supernatural force, or please and happily guard Ben against more than he can handle. meeting through this assignment welcome for 'attraction at first sight' or even as a building thing, or assumed cr as well. open for action scenes or a vignette in the quiet lull between assignments for something more angst or generally romantic. )

ambrose sinclair || original (vampire) || m/m

[immortalized]

{ keep him protected from vampire hunters, or his own whacked out sire, or have Ambrose lovingly watch over you while you sleep. that's not like, too much, is it? }

cracks knuckles threatening, writes starter while staring u in the eye

[nameusername]

Leonardo Bellomo has a file about the width of Bond's palm. He flipped through it briefly during the twelve-hour period where he thought he'd be assigned to go find him and help the vampire specialists kill him.

All of that had changed when there'd been an attack on the main witness. Ambrose Sinclair, another vampire whose file had been thin until the day he came escorted into MI6 to make his official statements, and aid in the tracking and capture of Bellomo. His sire, according to his own words. Bond had scanned the transcript briefly but hadn't needed to go further, because he wasn't supposed to ever interact with him. He didn't need to, to be flown to Italy and help assassinate the global terror that was Leonardo Bellomo.

But the attack had made everyone suddenly aware that when vampires send assassins, regular guards don't quite cut it. Bond isn't a vampire hunter, and he hadn't been top priority on the case anyway - M had sent Bond more as a sign of good will and out of a keen sense of timing. But when the initial safe house holding their key informant had been burnt to the ground by a fellow vampire working on Bellomo's orders, that changed the lineup for who was sent out to hunt him.

Bond assumes it was petty revenge for all the rogue investigating from months back, that sees M telling Bond he is now part of the rotating duty guarding their informant.

'His life has been directly threatened as a result of him providing us with information. Protecting him is policy.'

Pointing out to M that Bond isn't trained to be a babysitter had done very little to dissuade him.

The informant looks mid-twenties, which causes Bond to wonder if that's by design. Has anyone ever chosen to turn someone older? Why would they capture an old man into eternal youth, after all? The informant is also, reportedly, a little over 200 years old. Bond thinks that, if he were feeling worse, he'd dislike him for looking eternally-pre-thirty, free of scars or any signs of abuse.

Then he flips through the rest of Ambrose Sinclair's very minimalist file, to see why one had been created at all - he'd killed an archaeologist when discovered buried underground. And then Bond wonders what it feels like, to know that no suffering you ever undergo will ever affect your skin again. That you can't wear your past anymore.

The thought haunts him, which is possibly why he keeps his distance. He's polite and dutiful and nothing more...at least until he notices that Ambrose occasionally lets his gaze linger. Usually right as Bond is turning out of rooms, or back towards him during his check-ins.

Bond's too used to seeing desire, in all forms and levels, not to recognize it for what it is. It's only then that he properly processes the rest of the obvious - that the perfect skin is nearly luminous in the moonlight, when Ambrose stands in the windows. That he opens his mouth soundlessly when surprised, that his laugh - rare - is exceedingly low yet soft.

So Bond starts teasing him. He's ignored when he leans in too close to whisper information to Ambrose. He's politely talked around when he makes suggestive commentary about Ambrose's appetite, and how it must be frustrating being around so much food and unable to bite it.

He does not, however, go so far as to forbid the attempts, and so Bond keeps them up at spaced intervals. If he grows too bored or too frustrated, he employs it for the same reason he ever employs it - as a tool, as a hobby, as part of his job. It's instinctive now, and not terribly personal; Ambrose is either excessively picky or excessively clever, that he never validates any of it.

Today, Ambrose is in the bath when Bond arrives for his shift. He has to check in on him, of course, and does so only briefly and through the barely-cracked door.

But when Ambrose is still in the bathroom fifteen minutes later, Bond finds he doesn't feel like staying clear.

"It must be nice," he says as he opens the door, just wide enough to lean his head and half the width of his shoulders in. Ambrose is reclining in the tub, everything private covered by the water and the angle at which Bond looks at him from; steam hangs heavy, as does the scent of it all. Earthy, warm. Patchouli, Bond thinks, and picks out a few more notes from perfumes and colognes he's smelled over the years. "Not pruning, when you decide to spend extra time in the bath."

YELLS

[immortalized]

It's been long enough now for him to have learned how to recognize the sound of Mister Bond's heartbeat, upon approach.

Ambrose hears it at the door just a moment before Bond keys himself in to the room. Faint, very faint, through the concrete and other odd materials everything is comprised of these days. Just faint enough to have Ambrose think it's a fleeting thought in his mind. Once he hears the sounds of Mister Bond coming into the apartment, nestled nicely under the city street in some converted catacomb, old bunkers now made habitable again, he can truly hear it. The beat thrums attractively to the timing of the music playing quietly from his phone, on the counter, at a distance from the bath. Ambrose stops hearing the music nearly all-together.

Mister Bond is always punctual, and his arrival is far from a surprise — perhaps Ambrose might admit that his gentle interruption was anticipated and now something of an appreciation, if only to fill the empty air with the subtle sounds of living, and drown out the vampire's churning thoughts... These thoughts, like a pond, and his fit sink deeper into the black mud quicker and quicker when he is left to it alone.

Mister Bond comes and goes, and...eventually returns. Ambrose listens to him keenly, attached to his distant presence here, clinging for something he much rather prefers to the counsel of restlessness in his head. The vampire doesn't need to turn his head to angle his ear better to hear Mister Bond, but he chooses to anyway, only for the slight glimpse it gives him of the other man. It also gives the motion as a show of acknowledgement, regard to his guard.

"Would you laugh at me if I admitted it made me feel just a little bit homesick?" Ambrose lets his face relax into something in the outer range of a smile, mostly in his eyes, not quite at his mouth. "It's terrifying, to realize...how impervious this body now is. Unmarkable by experience." Taking a first-person experience of material and turning the body from a vehicle, into only a vessel. No longer living with this body, but now just trapped inside it, until fire by flame or sun takes him.

"I suppose eternal beauty was the only real concern Leon had for turning any of us." With the absolute logic of painting over a wall to hide the cracks, unwilling to see it crumble, but unwilling to fix it, either.

It was always either that, or smash the wall to bits, just for the satisfaction of being its sole destroyer.

And that is what Leon would do now, with the very thing he created. As if Ambrose cannot blame him — he threatens his existence now. Imagine, a time when Leon had laid the mortal down cupped in his hands, and swore that this would be an eternity shared together? Ambrose will never see wrinkles or scars from the time or wounds he has sustained, even these from Leon. All of the memory must be carried in his mind, a mind still too mortal to sustain it all.

"—Did he succeed?" The words blurt out on their own, his mouth seemingly separate from his mind, and it takes a heartbeat of Bond's for Ambrose to realize what he said, and...what it just sounded like he said. The vampire is completely still in the bath, not a ripple moving off of him, while he spins with his self-consciousness. A terrible knee-jerk for comfort, reassurance, timed so poorly. Ambrose would not care to be reassured of his looks, they are not a concern of his. Why did he say it, then?

Ambrose is left to stare at the words he's spat on the floor between them, unsure of how to take them back.

please be quiet, i'm sensitive

[nameusername]

Some days, Ambrose will be silent. A cloud hangs over him, dark and heavy. But then some days, he seems to release all that built-up weight in the form of words. Little anchors, laid out carefully. Bond wonders if it's a universal habit of those who are unmoored from their original times. Unmarkable by experience, Ambrose says, and Bond is reminded forcefully of his first bitter thoughts about vampires younger-looking than himself. Never resembling the tired old battleship being brought back to shore for the last time. It seems Ambrose finds it every bit as existentially questionable as Bond does.

Unlike Ambrose, however, Bond is quite finished brooding about it.

"He succeeded in making it eternal." He allows after a moment, a quiet sort of surprise lighting up his expression. He certainly wasn't expecting this level of misstep, this level of asking for reassurance. Bond's face is a mask of intrigue too sharp to call compassion and too delighted to call kindness; but it's also one of the most genuine expressions he's worn around Ambrose so far. This is no predetermined leer, this is Bond simply reacting to an unexpected factor in a familiar habitat.

"But I think the beauty part of that is entirely yours to lay claim to."