iwouldfightforfrenchie

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

Nirvana: A Rock Lee Tale (Chapter 6)

Summary: Your dating life is terrible. Your friends’ marriage is fantastic. Your career as a medic was doing great, though. But you aren’t happy. However, after one quick trip to the Mighty Rock Dojo, you stumble upon the most magnificent man you’ve ever met- the taijutsu master- Rock Lee.

Notes: slow burn fic, afab/fem/black reader.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mild to explicit sexual themes. Mentions of death, usage of petnames, cursing.

Word count: 5.1k

Masterlist

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It is the night you had that fabulous date with Lee. You lay in your bed, naked under the blankets while reminiscing on every second you spent with him. Heat blooms in your belly every time you think about the way he looks at you like royalty, the way he talks to you, the way he treats you like royalty. And that kiss. It plays nonstop in your head. You pull out your phone and scroll through your social media feed until Temari’s caller ID pops up on your screen. You realize you both hadn’t spoken much for a while and decide to catch up with her.

“Hey, girl. Wassup?

Temari slouches against her chair in relief at you succeeding to answer this late at night.

“Shika’s acting weird.”

“In what way?”

Your friend sighs in embarrassment, preparing herself for the admittance of her husband’s behavior. Temari never liked to admit when things in her life were going wrong. She’s well aware that it’s part of the human condition, but stability is what she’s good at. It’s her thing to keep things under her thumb and it was especially easier to keep it that way with Shika’s multifaceted security. But that security is crumbling and it takes two to make a marriage work. Temari sighs deeply when reflecting on everything her husband’s putting her through:

He hasn’t been home much, she thinks. We haven't had a proper date in weeks. At first he made up for it with life-changing sex but we don’t do that as much either. He comes home late when I’m already sleeping and leaves early before I wake up. He won’t even answer my calls when I need him to. And then he has the gall to chalk it up to the shitty economy making it hard for him to sell- I may not be an expert on real estate but selling property should never be that time consuming. Fucking poser.

You hum in thoughtful concern when she finally breaks her silence. The longer Temari explains her situation your brows slowly furrow at the realization of how much it reminds you of Shika’s behavior before he broke up with you. It feels too familiar and something nags at the back of your head for your friend’s sake.

However, Temari does not take your silence lightly and groans irritably. 

“I dunno am I doing something wrong?”

“No! No, I'm just thinking,” you blurt out. “And I think this is nothing new.”

Temari side-eyes her phone inquisitively. “Enlighten me.”

“Well…” you mumble tentatively, making sure you put care into every word that comes out of your mouth. “He’s acted like this before for a multitude of reasons. I can’t give you undeniable factors but I can help you connect the dots. Shika’s always been this way, just to varying degrees depending on the situation.”

Temari looks at the time on her phone and realizes this isn’t something she wants to sleep on.

“The best thing you can do is sit him down and have a talk,” you continue. “But please don’t think this has anything to do with you. We both know you’re an amazing partner.”

“Thanks,” she breathes. “I don’t want to keep you up all night. And I miss you, are you free to come over tomorrow?”

You smile softly at her effortless affection. She makes vulnerability seem so easy to attain. “I miss you too and I’d love to see you tomorrow. Luckily I’m free that day so I’ll make sure to stop by.”

“Alright, good night and I love you.”

“Love you too!”

-

The next morning you make Ayesha some breakfast to prepare her for departure. As much as she’d love to wring all the details about last night out of you, an emergency meeting came up with her marketing team. After serving her food, she bids you farewell with a peck on the cheek and closes your front door behind her. After locking it, you take a shower and prepare yourself for the day. It takes a few train stops and a brief bus ride to make it to Temari’s place but it’s nothing dire.

You give the door a few quick knocks, slightly swaying the bottle of white wine in hand. You hear muffled footsteps shuffling in the distance before the door opens and you see your friend’s state; mild bags under her eyes, dirty blonde hair spiking in all directions, one of the spaghetti straps of her nightgown dangling off her shoulder with a slouch that rivals the posture of a question mark. Temari’s iconic scowl melts into a cheeky grin at the sight of you.

“You look like shit,” you snort.

Temari’s eye twitches irritably while her grin turns stale. “Fuck you,” she snarls. “Hug me.”

Your eyes soften at her demand and you steadily wrap your arms around her shoulders. She doesn’t hug back but there’s no need. You slowly tighten your hold, and the sheer warmth of you causes her to shiver like a baby deer in winter. She buries her face into the corner of your neck, and the fact that she hasn’t been held like this in a while makes her ball up her fists. Shika should be doing this for her, not you.

“Wanna watch a movie?” You coo against her unruly tresses.

“Please.”

Shrieks of joy fill the living room air as you both lounge on the couch, conversing to your hearts’ desires while ignoring the indie film that plays in the background.

“And when we kissed it was electric. I didn’t want to stop but I knew that if I didn’t -“

“Then you would’ve fucked him on the first date I know, I know.” Temari sighs affectionately at your adorably troubled state. “I knew y’all had a thing for each other but I kept it as a hunch.”

You shut your eyes and replay the hot make out session in your head, the little concert you sang in the car, the delicious food, the trading of jokes. How can a man be so sweet, bubbly and stern at the same time? That’s so hot? You groan miserably at how shortly the kiss lasted.

“I like him so so sooo much.” You whine. “ I just want him to rearrange my guts already.”

Temari rests her head on her hand, scanning something in your face. “But you’re not ready, are you?”

Your eyes crack open abruptly. She frames it more as a statement than a question, a statement that holds a lot more merit than you wish it did.

“I… I need more time.” You mumble hesitantly. “As attracted to him as I am, I feel like I need to know him more.”

“Then you do.” Temari settles with a raised brow. “If you feel like you need to then you do. And it’s okay to go slow. Going slow is sexy.”

A meek smirk creeps up your features. “I knowww, but he makes it so hard.”

“Imagine how you make him feel? Shit, I’d have to be sick with obsession if I buy you slippers to your distinct liking so that you’re comfortable when you work. You kidding?”

You lean against the couch with a content sigh. You forget just how wise and mature Temari is. She’s so truthful with everything she does, so her support always means the world to you. Your best way of showing your appreciation would be to do the same.

“Talk to me.” You give her that look where the concern in your eyes is undeniable.

Temari stared at the glass of wine in her hand, tilting it back and forth to watch the beverage sway as if the answers to all her problems swim in it.

“He’s just not the same.”

You tuck your feet beneath your thighs and continue to listen, focusing on how your friend begins to slouch again with a distant look in her gaze. Not looking at anything in particular. She takes a deep breath but it only feels shallow.

“He doesn’t act like my husband any more. Just a roommate I occasionally fuck.”

Her flat tone makes her sound bored, but you hear the hushes of dejection in every word.

“You don’t deserve that.” You whisper.

Temari hums dismissively before raising her glass to her chapped lips. After taking a swig of her drink, she rolls her eyes obnoxiously.

“He’s burying himself with work and we don’t even go on dates. And what pisses me off the most is that he won’t treat this problem seriously. Taking me for a fool is unfortunately his most effective scapegoat.”

That sounds like Shikamaru alright.

“I dunno,” she scoffs. “You think he might have a mistress or something?”

You shake your head with a sound of denunciation. “He wouldn’t do that.” Yes Shika is not above being a bad husband, but a mistress? Something in your mind makes you doubt it. He never slept with anyone while dating you, even when he showed that he didn’t want to be with you anymore. Even when his heart belonged to another woman. It reminded you of how emotionally distant he was with you throughout your evolving relationship. You were very vulnerable around him because he made it a safe space, and yet was never just as naked around you. His father always encouraged him to let his feelings flow when necessary, but after he died Shika just had this impenetrable wall surrounding him. No one truly knows what he’s thinking: people only know what he wants them to know.

You can see the despair in Temari’s directionless glare. She wears that scowl on her face when she’s in a situation that she’s silently decided she can do nothing about. And it pisses you off.

“Hey, hey,” you murmur affectionately while scooting closer to your friend.

“I know that he’s not doing enough to maintain this marriage,” you gently grab her hand and steadily place it on your lap. “But Shika is wise enough to know who his soulmate is. And even wiser to do everything in his power to make sure you stay. But you must remind him of what he could lose before he’s too late. You’re a strong woman, no?”

Temari’s gaze flickers up to your own; your eyes widen with a knowing glare. A knowledge burning bright enough to coax the hidden determination deep from her core with unwavering warmth. Temari slowly nods her head, hesitantly at first, until she lifts her chin and straightens her back. Her brows furrow with the fear of uncertainty, but she gives your hand a brief squeeze nonetheless.

“I am,” She whispers. 

“So be a strong woman.”

-

It’s 8pm and Shika finally makes it to his home after a good few hours of drinking with his colleagues. Temari has stopped complaining about his busy schedule so he figures maybe he can sleep peacefully tonight. After locking the door from behind him he makes his way to the living room, where he sees you and his wife sharing a throw blanket together as you both slumber on the couch. He found the sight adorable, the way you both cuddle close to each other to make room under the blanket. He silently smiles to himself before tossing his suitcase on the table, abruptly waking you from your rest. Unlike Temari, you are a light sleeper.

“Had fun today?” You pry lowly, trying not to disturb your friend’s nap.

Shika takes a deep breath and an additional moment to ponder his response.“As much fun as real estate will allow me.”

You scoff with a weak sneer, caressing Temari’s hair while looking down at her relaxed state. “ You’re avoiding her. Why?”

Now it was Shika’s turn to scoff. “We've gone through worse. Where was your questioning during those times?”

“And where is your dignity during this one?”

Shika strides past you and into the kitchen, pouring himself a scotch. He takes his time, shrugging off his leather coat and hanging it in his closet room before snatching his drink and heading back into the living room. He takes a swig while staring you down.

“ Is this payback for our break up? Look, I know how I did you was pretty shitty. But don’t you think it’s about time you moved on?”

Your sneer warps into a disgusted grimace, as you search his eyes with horror at the audacity. 

“I've already moved on,” you hiss quietly, eyes glossy with the thought of that tender look Lee gives you and his infectious smile. “I am happier than you could ever dream of making me. But that doesn’t mean you’re immune to criticism. My friend is hurting and you’re causing the pain. So I ask you kindly to get your shit together-“

“This is a matter solely between me and my wife, and it will be handled solely between me and my wife.” There's a finality in his tone that makes your jaw tense with frustration, but it’s a closed jaw, nonetheless.

“Then handle it you fucking pussy..”

You and Shika whip your heads in Temari’s direction, quietly processing the words that escaped her mouth. There was that dull unamusement in her tone when she spoke. And yet a subtle glint in her irises makes her look eager for something. Hungry, even. Shika remains unfazed, raising the glass to his lips to drink some more alcohol and humming delightfully at the familiar burn.

“If you had told me you were awake, I would’ve made you dinner sooner.”

“Lie to my face again,” she hisses loudly, swiftly rising from her pillow. “And I will pack my bags and never look back.”

Temari has made idle threats plenty of times throughout their relationship. But the eerie composure of her voice and the way her sharpened eyes pierce through his soul is more than enough proof that she means every single word. Temari may not have a job, but she always knows how to make money one way or another, and she never depended on Shikamaru for funds. If she truly wanted to leave, she’d do mighty fine by herself. It was one of those many traits of hers that made her husband hopelessly whipped. 

Shika feels his breath hitch in his chest. “.. Yeah but then you would miss out on my infamous Kenchin soup.”

Temari sucks her teeth. It was so typical of him to act as unbothered as possible. “ Flattery won’t get you out of this,” she warned. “Now listen to y/n’s advice before you fumble the chance to change my mind.”

Shikamaru never had the best relationship with his father. Yes, there was no other man he was closest with as a child. There was no other man he could depend on as a child, but that same man had a cold heart. His love was cold enough to burn you with freezes and now the scars live with his son. His very son who never asked for help, who never cried for affection, who never begged for the validation he needed to survive woundless. His very son who never learned to love or hate a woman. His baby boy who never learned to love or hate himself.

Shika is on thin ice and he knows it. He dug a deeper hole for himself and he knows it. But one thing that he knows more than anything is that he would literally rather die than watch his woman leave. He sighs incredulously and places his glass beside his suitcase.

“Can we at least talk alone?”

“You really wanna play with me right now, of all times?”

Shika feels his underarms perspiring with sweat. “Not in the least, baby. Let’s talk.” Temari stands up from the cushions and approaches him until they are face-to-face.

“Why?” It is a simple question really. Only problem is that the simple question calls for a complicated answer.

“And don’t feed me bullshit excuses like you being ‘too busy with work’ or ‘too tired’ to spend time with your own wife.” She lists his examples of negligence with a distinct mockery of how he sounds when he talks. “Are you cheating on me?”

“No.”

“ Did you break the law? Did you kill someone?”

“…No.” he would sound damn near docile If it weren’t for the bellowing raspiness of his voice.

“Then say something, Shikamaru Nara. What the fuck is going on with you?”

Shika glanced at you sipping your wine while watching this conversation unfold. He redirects his gaze to the hallway, looming ahead of him.

“ I don’t know.”

Temari’s eyes look for any signal of deception on his aggravatingly handsome face. She could tell he wasn’t lying, and that broke something in her. All the fire she was about to spew his way was losing its fuel, and she felt it dying down into a simmering spark.

“W-What-“

“I don’t. Know.”

You ceased drinking, concern etching into your features for that was an answer you could’ve never anticipated from your former boyfriend and best friend.

“Then what are we doing?” Her voice cracks with a very small whine. A whine that only he could recognize whenever her defense was starting to crumble.

“We’re talking, remember? So that we can fix this.”

“I don’t even know what we’re fixing.” She rushes past you and Shika, her rapid padding echoes throughout the corners of the house. She yanks open the refrigerator door for a drink. Her man follows behind in casual strides, watching her slouch down as she rummages through some food. He buries his hands in his pockets to fiddle with his father‘s lighter, the only physical link to his memory. He leans forward until his mouth is right above the back of her neck.

“Yeah but we can still figure this out, no?” Temari almost shivers at the way his hot breath tickles her nape. She shuts her eyes to ground herself and snatches a water bottle from one of the containers sitting below the food.

“Use your words carefully. I’m still considering leaving you.”

“Heh. I bet you are, my love.” Temari turns around and leans against the kitchen counter, already bored with his usage of the pet name. She hastily screws open the cap and lets the chilled water pour down her throat.

“ When my father was killed, I made a vow to never let loss destroy me the way his death did.” Temari stares at him with a quiet gulp, not expecting him to openly talk about such a touchy subject.

“If I had to push people away to avoid the pain, so be it. If I had to be alone for the rest of my life, then so be it.” Shika may be an asshole, but he’s a grown man who values his timing more than winning arguments. “It was fun at first, being young and watching the consequences slip past my fingertips.”

He took a few steps closer until his face was all that his wife could pay attention to. “Now look at me: a miserable fool, already on the verge of a divorce. Dad would be so disappointed if he saw this.” Shika removes his hands from his pockets and slowly takes the bottle from her hold to place it on the counter, inwardly cheering in relief at her silent cooperation. He traps either side of her body with his arms, staring down down at her tired eyes. She could see the desperation in his furrowing brows, and the aging grief in his subtle frown. Despite how long they have been married, Temari could never get used to the way Shika dwarfs her with simple finesse.

“But you don’t make me miserable, princess, you never do. I do. And now it’s affecting you. And for that, I’m sorry. So very sorry and I’ll do better, I’ll do more. I promise.” The hushed sincerity in his tone almost makes a sob escape Temari’s trembling lips.

“I’m pregnant, Shika.” She sniffles, regrettably at the way his eyes widen.. his hands grip the edge of the counter until his knuckles go white. His mouth slowly falls open as realization takes its time to settle in..

“…Mari-“

“Hey y’all, It’s about time I go home.”

The couple snap their heads in your direction. Tears staining Temari’s rosie cheeks. 

“Let me drive you,” Shika offers as he steps back from his wife to face you. “It’s the least I could do after being such a cunt.”

“I forgive you, Shika. Just take care of her already, okay?” 

He gives you a nod of gratitude and makes his way to the front door. Before he escorts you out, you pull Temari in a tight hug.

“Stay,” she begs helplessly.

“You know I can’t hun,” you coo solemnly. “Call me when you’re ready. I love you.”

You release your hold with a swiftness and make your way to the exit. Before you walk past Shika, he grabs your arm to stop you. “I owe you one,” he admits ashamedly. “Name the price and I’ll make it up to you.” 

You shake your head, taken aback with amusement. “Make it up to her first. Then we’ll talk.”

After Shika closes the door and locks it, Temari breaks down on her knees. Shika could cry himself at the sight, but he has a duty to fulfill. He approaches his wife and bends down, to steadily slide one arm under her thighs and the other around her back. He holds her limbs with gentle security and carries her to their master bedroom. While she lies weeping on the mattress, she hears her husband retreat into the bathroom. Faucet water streams into the tub while he opens a bag of bath salt. It takes around 20 minutes for the tub to  be filled and prepped with his wife’s favorite ingredients. He approaches the foot of the bed with caution.

“I made you a bath. Can… can I take off your clothes?”

Every second that passes by is laced with a deafening silence he endures while waiting for her response.

She sniffles. “…hurry up.”

Shika exhales with relief before tenderly removing her knitted sweater. He handles her like fine China, carefully shimmying the nightgown off of her pliant body. He hooks a finger into the band of her panties and the way his nails gently drag against her skin leaves a trail of goosebumps at the sensation. Once she’s fully nude, he picks her up once more and carries her to the bubble bath.

“I gotchu sweetheart,” He whispers lightheartedly as he sinks his woman into the warm water. She sighs delightedly at the sweet aroma of the bubbles.

“Mind if I join you?” Shika offers warily.

Temari shoots him an offended glare. “ Sex is not gonna solve this, dammit.” he could hear the exhausted irritation in her voice.

“ I won’t fuck you. I just want to join.”

His wife side eyes him as if she’s tracking any signs of deception once more. But alas, there aren’t any.

“Three seconds.”

It takes less than that for her husband to process the command, his eyes widening with panic before his fingers fumble while attempting to unbutton his shirt. The pace at which he unbuckles his belt could convince anyone that his pants are on fire. Temari snickers helplessly at his idiosyncratic movements, and how he genuinely is desperate to bathe with her. She scoots up once he’s fully naked so that he can sit behind her, both legs on either side of her figure. He slouches against the curve of the tub and spreads his arms with a blissful sigh, smirking at the cute glare Temari shoots his way.

“I’ll be off work for two weeks so we can figure this out. If you don’t want the baby, I’ll pay for the abortion. If you want a divorce, I’ll sign the papers. But if you do choose to stay, if you do choose this baby…” Shika leans forward and stares into his woman’s soul. “I’ll be here every step of the way. I’m not going anywhere. You come first before everything.”

His words are crystal clear yet spoken seductively low. He’s not trying to have sex, he’s not even flirting or teasing. All Temari can do is let her eyes trickle down to the contours of his neck, to his toned stomach, his chiseled v-line and all the way down to that heavy-

Shika snaps his fingers. “Eyes up here, sexy. You understand?”

Temari flickers her gaze up to meet his own, and the way he looks at her makes her thighs clench hard. He will not fuck you, she reluctantly reminds herself. So she pushes her back against his chest and lets his groin poke at her ass.

“I hate you,” She huffs indignantly.

“Doesn’t answer my question baby.” 

Temari sighs with a groan before resting the back of her head on his shoulder, her eyes shut with embarrassment.

“One last chance,” she concludes. “Fuck this up and we’re done.”

“Yes ma’am.”

-

You finally make it home, kicking off your sneakers and tossing your keys on a nearby table. You simply cannot stand the cold, frustratedly shrugging off the remnants of winter as you hang your coat on a racket. You sigh with a slouch, mumbling to yourself about what to make for dinner. You feel your phone vibrating in your back pocket, and once you take it out you see Lee’s caller ID on your screen. That familiar eagerness spirals down your stomach and your cheeks puff up with a smile. You take a deep breath and answer the call.

“Hey Lee! Wassup?”

Lee closes his eyes to revel in your sweet timbre.

“Good evening, beautiful. Just revising the dojo’s schedule for next week. What are you up to?”

It’s only been a day since y’all last talked and yet the bass of his voice never ceases to rumble through you. There is nothing like listening to Lee on the phone.

“Just got home from Temari’s place,” You trudge up the stairs and make your way to your room. “And now I’mma get ready for bed.”

Lee pauses his writing and side eyes his phone. “ Should I call another time?”

“No! No- I love talking to you. Hehe.” You squeeze your eyes shut at how desperate you sound, but the man on the other line couldn’t find you any more endearing.

Lee places his pencil down and relaxes into the cushion of his chair. “Me too, sweetheart.” 

If he calls you one more pet name, you are going to explode. When you put him on speaker, you shrug off your day clothes and throw them in the laundry basket.

“I really enjoyed last night,” he continues. “That was the most fun I had in a long time.”

You grunt, “Is your dojo not entertaining enough for you?”

Lee smirks at your playfulness. “Aren’t you the beauty who admitted doing what she loves isn’t always fun?”

You drape an oversized T-shirt over your figure and plop yourself on the bed beside your phone. You turn off the speaker to have a more intimate experience with the conversation.

“Damn, you got me,” you drawl sarcastically.

“Mmm not yet, but I’m working on it.”

Your teeth tugs on your bottom lip at his insinuation, body already growing hot with wanton need.

“I uhm… I had a lot of fun too. It was probably the best date I’ve ever had.” You tug at the hem of your shirt regrettably, hoping that he doesn’t mistake your honesty for pandering. Lee hums gleefully at your simple charm, wondering how he bagged such a sweet thing like you. But that sound he let out almost resembled a low groan, and it threatens to go straight to your cunt.

“What was your favorite part of the date?”

While pondering on his question, you shift to lay on your side and pull the phone closer to your face, as if you were watching Lee through the screen.

“Everything, I fear. It may not be the most satisfying answer… but it’s the truth.”

Lee spreads his long legs, eyes half lidded with content. “And why is that something you fear?”

Your face tenses up at the question but you don’t cower. “… Wasn’t expecting you to be so lovely.”

“You don’t expect a lot from people?”

“No. Not from men anyway.”

Lee chuckles at your boldness, it’s a lighthearted sound that makes your heart feel a bit less heavy. “Men don’t expect much from men either.”

You grin giddily at how he treats your views with respect rather than shallow judgment. It shows his wisdom and gravitates you impossibly closer towards him.

“ Well, what was your favorite part, Lee?”

“I have my top fifty moments, but,” He inhales deeply. “I’m afraid I won’t be your favorite anymore If I tell you my number one.”

You stretch your knees with a huff, “You aren’t my favorite. You’re my only.”

Now it was Lee’s time to pause, feeling his chest cave in with a warmth he hadn’t felt in almost a decade.

You misinterpret the silence and panic. “O-Only if we keep dating, of course-”

“It was kissing you. That was my number one moment.”

The tiny hairs on your back raise with every passing second. “ Well, you’re really good at it,” you mumble meekly.

Lee snickers dotingly at your antics. “Thank you, gorgeous. I’m only a phone call away if you want my lips again.”

Lee can hear your breathing turn shallow, your voice getting weaker on the other line. He may not have been active for a minute, but he knows a woman in need when he hears one.

“…Lee-“

“ Let me ask you this.” His tone is tender yet commanding. It makes your back flex.

“Are you dating for sex?” 

“…No?”

“Good. I’m dating you because I want you. And if that means getting to know how amazing you are, then I will do whatever it takes. Okay angel?”

You almost moan at his words alone. He speaks to you with an effortless sensuality that pebbles your nipples and leaves your pussy aching. A full-body throbbing that only he can satiate. You’ve never felt so wanted in your entire life.

“You’re killing me here,” your whimpering alone could make Lee die a happy man.

“Let me take you out on another date.” he balls his veiny fist with unwavering determination. “Please.”

You look over your shoulder and glance at the dresser in which your vibrator resides. This was gonna be a long night.

“I-I’d love that, Lee.”

This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

Nirvana: A Rock Lee Tale (Chapter 5)

Summary: Your dating life is terrible. Your friends’ marriage is fantastic. Your career as a medic is doing great, though. But you aren’t happy. However, after one quick trip to the Mighty Rock Dojo, you stumble upon the most magnificent man you’ve ever met- the taijutsu master- Rock Lee.

Notes: slow burn fic, afab/fem/black reader.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, (light) descriptions of blood and violence, usage of the N word, mentions of drug use. The reader and Lee are in their 20s but virtually any age group that is 18 and up can enjoy this story. Again 18+, minors do not interact… pls.

Word count: 7.5k

Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

9 YEARS AGO

Even though you completed assignments in the study hall since you hated doing it at home, school always found a way to leak itself into your private life- especially during your senior year of high school. At least your boyfriend, Shikamaru, sat beside you in the library, a toothpick dangling from his mouth as he tilted back in his seat. You never understood why he was so content with just sitting there silently while you studied.

“Cause it’s funny seeing you tryna use your pea brain.”

He stared straight ahead when he said it, but after he side-eyed your bottom lip curling into a little pout, that shit-eating grin of his appeared.

“Shut up, pineapple!” You whisper-shouted. “Not everyone can get perfect grades without putting in the work like you.”

Shikamaru scoffed at your complaint, even though complaining is one of his favorite things to do. But he’s only teasing: you’re the smartest person he’s ever met, besides his late father of course. 

He remembered the times when you’d read anatomy books for hours, just to get to his place and talk his ear off about all the new body parts you learned and what you’d do if they were hypothetically harmed in any way. If he had cut or bruised himself around you, you would sit him down, explain to him what area he injured (even if he already knew), and how you’re gonna treat it while tending to the wound. For any injury that was beyond your capabilities, you'd research them in depth and explain her findings to him later. You just loved taking care of him, and sometimes he genuinely believed that he was your first patient.

He remembered you holding his hand at the funeral at the end of middle school, while both of you stared down at his father’s open casket. You imagined Shikamaru in that casket and never really left his side after that, though not to suggest you ever had before. And it didn’t take long for Shika to notice your strengthened devotion, the stars in your eyes whenever you looked at him, the hitch of your breath when you’d tell him a truth about yourself that you didn’t like. He appreciated the sentiment at least… It’s just that death peeled off a new layer of meaning for your relationship. A layer so deep that you never stopped to wonder how many layers your companion had already uncovered about himself.

“It’s ok if you need help, y/n. That’s what boyfriends are for.” Shika slipped his hands from his pockets and slowly leaned towards you until his face was inches away from yours. He was so close, you could feel his breath hit your mouth. “But don’t act like you prefer me being somewhere else right now.”

And it’s even harder to wonder about such layers when his sharp, sleepy eyes bored into yours. That lazy smile hinted at mischief and passion. The nonchalant cadence of his voice that made all of your problems seem easily solvable, and your worries erasable. He knew just how to crumble whatever sorry remains of a front you had put up. 

“Fine…” you murmured, unable to look away. “Th-there’s this one problem I’m stuck on.”

You flipped a couple of pages in your textbook, ignoring the way Shika scooted his chair closer to yours until you could smell his expensive cologne..

How am I supposed to focus like this??? You thought.

“This one?” Your partner mumbled, pointing at the problem you drew a question mark beside. You nodded meekly, watching him slide the book closer in his direction. 

In less than thirty seconds, Shika read the question and asked you what you’re confused with. Right after you confessed, he made sure you understood your erroneous thought process towards said question and reframed it in a way where you comprehended why the new answer is correct, and why your previous one was not. He did this with pretty much everything he approached. Most of the time it was helpful, other times it was… telling.

He tested you on the next question, to which you answered correctly after being given some time to brainstorm. The young man rewarded your round cheek with a wet kiss, warning you not to wipe it off even though he knew you wouldn't dare. 

“Now, ace this next problem so we can get some grub. School lunch always sucks.”

You considered his offer as if you never blindly agreed to do this many times before.

“Okay!” you chirped.

He helped put your books away and carried some of your bags to ease the asphyxiating weight of school. You both walked through the campus doors on the way to your favorite cafe.

FIRST YEAR OF COLLEGE

Your legs entangled with Shika’s in his sheet-clad queen-sized mattress. You used his shoulder to cushion the side of your head with a draped arm over his bare chest. You buried your face in his neck to avoid the sun rays that painted the russet canvas of your skin. Shika’s got an arm hooked on your waist, while his other hand absentmindedly caressed you anywhere he could. A joint was planted between his dried lips, while gently exhaling a cloud of cannabis through his nose. You never minded the smell when he smoked, you both would often share his weed that he never failed to remind you was his if you ever gave him attitude.

Shika wordlessly passed you the weed when he was halfway done, signaling that you could finish the rest of it. He remembered cackling at you during summer camp a few years back because you choked and hacked after smoking your first blunt. He loved how imperfect you were, loved your tendency to let your innocent curiosity lead the way while adorably trying to be everything society expected of you. He loved how you looked to him to taste the raw experiences of life, while never realizing that you were life itself. He lived vicariously and shamelessly through the endless aspects of your wonder; you couldn’t bore him if you did absolutely nothing.

So you accepted his joint with a meek ‘thank you’ and took a deep drag. Shika’s eyes were already red, but you always found that hot. He fucked differently when he got high too; he’d lazily guide your hips as you bounced on his cock till you both came, rather than coax your body into submission with orgasm after orgasm beneath him like he usually did. It was a Saturday morning, and you had barely passed your current quarter of classes with a renewed yet ceaselessly rigorous schedule as a nurse’s assistant. Shikamaru had just finished an unholy 60-Hour Broker Licensing course. So it’s an understatement to say y’all hadn’t hung out much in the past few weeks.

“You need a new bed,” you sigh, snuggling closer to your boyfriend so you could hook a leg over his pelvis.

“I need my own house,” he slurred sleepily, idly patting your thigh that sat on his lower stomach. “This whole fuckin dorm’s a drag.”

He was right: not only was the bed too small, the wall paint peeled everywhere and there was’s no heating system. On top of that he had to pay to stay in the residency. He’d go to your place more often if you weren’t living with your parents at the time, but he had to make due with what he signed up for and what he didn’t. That’s another thing you loved about Shika. No matter how much he moaned and groaned, he always got the job done.

You playfully tapped on your man’s hard belly, dragging your fingertips along his abs until they stopped at his pecs. You poked and prodded at the smooth skin. Shika slipped the bud from your lips and tossed it on the ashtray beside him.

“I could lay here with you like this forever,” you mumbled enchantedly. “I’ll love you forever.”

You raised your chin to check your boyfriend’s reaction. He was already staring down at you and recognized the glaring glow behind your irises. One thing he knew for sure about you, was that when you’re fascinated by something beyond reasoning, you have this look on your face:; plump lips slightly parted with a mindless grin, raised brows, shallow breathing and motionless eyes that wait for the object of its irrepressible fixation to fill the void behind them. It’s comparable to a thousand-yard stare, and it’s the same look you gave to Shika.

He smirked hopelessly. “Even on a shitty bed?”

A chortle escaped you, and his chest rumbled with gentle laughter beneath the palm of your hand.

“Baby, I’d lay with you on the cold pavement if I had to.”

“Bullshit,” he spat playfully.

You laughed at his remark but it wasn’t a joke. Although you never admitted that to him.

SECOND YEAR OF COLLEGE

Everything was fine. Your career was fine. Your grades met the requirements to keep you on the right track for receiving your bachelors in science in a couple years. Your love life with Shika was fantastic. Even though you lived with your parents they never checked on you or asked how you're doing. They only spoke with you out of necessity and were either working a shit ton or just didn’t bother being home. Your love life with Shika was amazing though, and that’s what mattered. You never felt chosen by your parents but that’s fine. Shika chose you and that’s what mattered.

Everything was fine. 

THIRD YEAR OF COLLEGE

Shikamaru and Temari met at a lecture. It was her first semester at his school, and she just wanted to make the best of her time there so that ends would meet. The first thing Shika noticed about her was her four spiky ponytails and that resting scowl on her face. She looked like she couldn’t stand a single thing in her vicinity, and he liked that more than he wanted to admit.

She sat beside him since there weren’t many other seats available. Shika side eyed her curiously at the way she unzipped her bag to pull out her academic supplies. She did everything with effortless grace; her handwriting captivated him, the questions she’d ask the professor made him think of sincere answers to them, her voice was smooth yet heavy with determination. Not once did she ever acknowledge Shika and fuck- she smelled good.

Class was about to end in 10 minutes, the least he could do was try and get a conversation in.

“I like your hair.”

Temari paused but refused to look at him, and continued to write. “Thanks.” 

Her tone was curt and damn near emotionless, it reminded him of how he would sound while on social auto-pilot.

“Are you really interested in anything they’re saying?”

Temari glanced at the professor before focusing back on her notes.

“Yep.”

Is she really interested in anything I’m saying? He thought.

“I’m Shikamaru, what’s your name?”

“Temari.”

“I’m from Minnesota, where are you from?”

“…Michigan.”

Shika reeled back and paused. His ego’s telling him to not even bother and continue listening to the lecture, but his mind’s telling him to ask more questions. His ego was telling him that worrying about what to say to someone he had just met was irrational, and yet his mind was flashing images of you. What could he do? What should he do?

“…Hmph, I bet you’re a stoner.”

Termari’s eyes widened at his sheer audacity, and finally turned her head to face him.

“What?”

“Yup. You might be an edible girl, don’t seem like the type who’d wanna fuck her lungs.”

The spiky haired girl laughed incredulously at his vulgarity. “And what are you, a crackhead?”

“If I were a crackhead- who actually has money if you’re wondering- then do you really think I’d spend my time talking to you?”

Temari raises a brow. “Then why are you?”

Shika chuckles, “Because I like you, and I want us to be friends.”

She couldn’t quite seem to put a finger on why, but Shika was a douchebag that actually managed to catch her interest. She hates douchebags because they usually lack the nuance to do so, but he’s not even trying that hard. He  didn’t care for what came out of his mouth, since he believed in every single word. Not only that but he was fine. Real handsome; his dark jagged hair, those piercing eyes, his studded ears, and that lip ring, his effortless attitude, and the exquisite hoarseness of his timbre kept pulling her mind into the grasp of his own.

Temari’s face felt strangely hot, and a huge part of her felt truly foolish for entertaining this man. But a bigger part of her felt even more foolish for almost allowing fear to spoil potential fun. So, she took a deep inhale and relaxed her grip on her pencil.

“I smoke sometimes, edibles are too strong. …And I take shrooms.”

A proud grin illuminated Shika’s face. No, he wasn’t completely accurate, but it was’s a start. She was comfortable enough to share a little about herself and that’s all he needed.

-

Their first hangout was at a record store after realizing they both shared a love for music. They showed each other their favorite artists, songs, and albums. The two tried so hard not to run their own pockets for the latest releases.

“I don’t have a record player by the way.” Temari minded while carefully shuffling through the colorful vinyls.

“No need,” Shika waved off. “Got one at my place.”

Temari ceased browsing the music, and slowly raised her head to the dark haired man.

“Are you inviting me to your man-cave, Shikamaru?” She sneered.

Shika chucked his fists into his pockets and looked up at the ceiling as if his cheeks weren’t rosy with bravery. “…Only if you’re up for it.”

He peeked a look at her form- her arms folded in an attempt to limit how big her smirk should be. However, her amusement radiated like heat. She couldn’t seem to believe that she was genuinely interested in getting to know this poser. But why did she need a reason to hang out with whoever she wanted? He had put in the effort, so why couldn’t she make the most of it if she pleased?

“I guess I am.” Temari concluded, more to herself in bewilderment.

Shika huffed a scoff of relief, and smiled to himself for making her comfortable enough to want to go home with him. There was so much more he wanted to share with her. Most of all he wanted to see how she’d respond to each experience he was willing to share and how many experiences she would allow. 

“Also, I have something for you back at mines.”

The spiky haired woman’s interest had already peaked, but her expectations were still low. “So we’re not buying anything from here?”

Shika scratches the back of his head. “I’m not at least. But why spend your money here when you have a free gift waiting for you?”

Temari raised a brow. “You’re not gonna drug me up and kidnap me are you?”

Shika chortled more bitterly this time, but he still knew her suspicious teasing was understandable.

“No, Temari.” he sighed with a roll of his eyes.  “And if it eases your mind, I have a surprise for you. That’s why I’m not being specific about it.”

Temari was not a fan of surprises, but he seemed thoughtful enough to give her a present so she might as well grant him a chance, no? Shika watched her shrug her shoulders and raise her hands in defeat. “Lead the way, buddy.”

-

Shika opened the front door for Temari and she nodded her head to him in gratitude. His humble abode was definitely humbling to say the least. But at least he made his bed before starting the day. His side of the dorm was also as clean and presentable as possible. She refused to blame him for the sorry state of the building and respected his ability to make the most of it.

She watched Shika hunch down to sit on his haunches and search through the contents in his wooden shelf..

“You can uhh…have a seat wherever you like.” He grunted softly.

Temari decided to sit on the foot of his bed, and side-eyed the way Shika’s shirt slightly rode up his toned back as he dug deeper through his shit.

“Alright,” he exhaled eagerly before standing on his feet. “Close your eyes f’me.”

Temari's eyes twitched hesitantly before closing them shut. She heard the quiet shuffling of footsteps, which caused a wave of anticipation to wash over the pores of her skin.

“Now open ‘em.”

Before her was a vinyl, but not any ole regular shmegular one. It was her top favorite album from her top favorite band: For The World to See by Death.

Death is not the most well known band by a long shot, but that doesn’t take away their permanent influence on the punk rock scene. And it especially doesn’t take away their permanent influence on Temari’s life as a young adult. Yeah, of course she talked nonstop with Shika about Death and why they deserve more recognition as musicians when they hung out in that record store. But she would’ve never preceded this convenience.

“Wh…where did you..? How-“

“A friend of mine went to their concert and had his vinyl signed by the lead singer. He decided to give it to me for my birthday when he found out I had a record player at home.”

Shika smiled fondly at the awe in Temari’s eyes, and marveled at the way she raised her hands to hold the album only to hesitate when she’s inches away from its grasp.

“But I don’t have a record player.”

“I can always get you one, princess.”

Temari felt a heat pool in her cheeks and ears, as well as other places in her body she wasn’t yet consciously ready to acknowledge. She carefully wrapped her fingers around the smooth and crisp surface of the record, scanning the beautiful artwork and a ragged signature written by Bobby Hackney himself.

Shika never called you princess before.

4TH YEAR OF COLLEGE

It was a new year. You had 16 more classes to take for the next 12 months, a prerequisite for your bachelors in science. And even though the nurse’s state board takes place after your graduation, time has a tricky way of passing you by with the blink of an eye. So you studied and studied. Every day. You took care of patients. Every. Day. It wasn’t particularly healthy, but the hyperactivity distracted you. It distracted you from how unhappy you were: with your parents, with the way you saw yourself, with your career- even if you did everything necessary to become the best nurse that you knew you could be. Plus, if you were improving your skill set, who cares if you hadn’t properly slept in weeks? As long as you’d gotten smarter, as long as you helped save lives, you could neglect your own. 

On top of that you hadn’t hung out with your boyfriend in person for months, which was becoming a norm in your relationship. You always made sure to let him know when you were free, yet he always made sure to let you know he was too busy. You don’t talk on a weekly basis anymore, since Shikamaru continually missed your calls. He does text you to make up for it though. But it was fine. As soon as you graduated, you both could finally be together again and make up for lost time. You were sure that he was waiting too. You were sure he still missed you. He had to. You were positive because you felt the same way and because, well, you were dating each other.

It’s 9:30 pm and your last patient of the night, Marty, had finally managed to sleep after enduring a 3 hour absence seizure. You sat at the foot of the bed, eyes were reddened with dryness, back heavy and strained. But you refused to rest;: you needed to check for any recurring symptoms if he gets triggered in his sleep again.

“…ome on… y/n?”

You snap your head to the voice behind you, and it’s the head nurse you’re working under, Ms. Adams. You were so tired you didn’t even hear her walking in.

Ms. Adams frowned at your hunched state. “It’s okay y/n, we have computers monitoring him. You won’t be of any help if you're half-conscious anyway.”

You gulped dryly at her insistence and turned back to give Marty one last look, before nodding in defeat. You slowly pushed yourself from the bed and bid your mentor a good night. Before you could head out, she rested a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Good work today, y/n.” She casted a somber smile your way. “Good work as always, really. You’ll be a great nurse one day. I hope you know that.”

You looked down at your beaten up shoes.

“Thanks nurse Adams. G’night.”

-

You were in the locker room shrugging off your nurse uniform when you felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket. Your face beamed brighter than your screen when you saw your boyfriend’s name. Even though you weren’t done getting dressed, you refused to fumble the opportunity of hearing your lover’s voice after such a stressful day.

“Baby? Is that you?”

“Heyy… You busy right now?”

“No-no! Never too busy for you! I actually miss you... So much.”

Shikamaru side eyed his phone before pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“…Me too. And uhh…I know we haven’t been talking much for a long while and I’ve been thinking.”

You’ve been thinking too! You thought about all the dates you’re both gonna go on, all the sex you’re gonna have. You thought about all the weed you’re gonna smoke with him and all the stories you’ll tell him about your time spent as a nurse’s assistant. You thought about helping him move out of that shitty dormitory so that y’all can rent an apartment together. You thought about settling down together after you pass your state board with flying colors and Shika passing his exam so that he can finally be a real estate agent. You thought about him buying you both a permanent house after you get married and adopting two cats with a dog and spider. You’ve been thinking of so much too.

“I-I’ve been talking to someone else for the past few or so months. And I’m in love with her… And so I think we should… break up.”

…Huh?

…break up?

You wordlessly looked up at the ceiling, watching the painted patterns mold and blur together as you felt your eyes gloss over. You gulped once, twice, one more time for safe measure.

It had been two minutes since he divulged his confession, and you hadn’t said a wordnything. Shika’s knee was jutting up and down and up and down and up and down. Clenching his fist, he took a deep breath.

“Sorry that this was so sud-“

“Where are you.”

“…at home? Why?”

“I’m coming over.”

Shika’s eyes widened in horror at the ominous conviction in your tone. When you talk like that, your mind can't be changed.

“Wait, hold on-“

BEEP

-

BANG BANG BANG BANG

Your fist repeatedly hit Shika’s door, and it didn’t stop even after your shoulder started to feel sore.

“I’m coming, I'm coming!” Shika’s voice is muffled and drowned out by the cacophony you created.

As soon as he opened the door you barged through like a shadow someone would mistake for a demon in their closet. You yanked him by the collar and he winced at your unexpected strength.

“I gave you six years of my life- SIX YEARS!” Your screaming rang through the thin walls of the dormitory like a curse during the witch’s hour. You pushed him back, and kept pushing him until his legs hit the foot of the bed. Shika yelped when he stumbled on his back, and you took that chance to straddle his hips and look him dead in the eyes so you could confirm for yourself if this was what he actually wanted.

But Shika got a good look at you too, and he grimaced softly at the sight: your tear-stained face, the borderline mania in your blood-shot eyes, your knitted brows, your gritted teeth, your heaving breath that gently hit his mouth. You looked like whatever hope you clinged onto had disappeared. And that’s because he snatched it away. And now you were flailing helplessly on the jagged floor of your mind, like a baby who’s candy had been stolen. Like a bug who ended up stuck on its back. Like the tightrope you’d been tirelessly treading on your whole life had snapped again, while Shika watched you fall on the other side even though he promised he’d catch you. The other side that was never even in your grasp.

“Been dating behind my back, huh?” Your voice was shaky with adrenaline and vitriol. “For how long?”

“W-We haven’t dated yet, we're just friends… Y/n can we plea-“

“You fuckin’ her?”

The man beneath you scoffed petulantly at the fact that you’d even ask that. But that fuck ass nonchalance of his was not getting past you this time.

“ANSWER ME!” you roared as you violently shook his body to get it through his head, spit flew from your mouth and hit his face.

You were unrecognizable at this point. Shika needed to meet you halfway, he needed to calm you down somehow. He grunted frustratedly and grabbed your wrists to loosen your iron grip on him, but you wouldn’t budge. He used his other hand to hold the back of your head. Your breath hitched at the way he began to steadily stroke your hair.

“No, pea brain.” He mumbled sincerely. “Of course not.” Your eyes drooped at the pet name he gave you. He hasn’t called you that in ages. “That’s why I contacted you first, before anything escalated.”

Things have already escalated though, and now all he could do was tell you the truth. More tears fell from your eyes when you saw the tenderness in his gaze. No, you thought. It will not end like this.

“Let me fix this Shika,” your voice warbled with a devastating crack. “We can fix this.”

Man am I a shitty person, he thought. And an even shittier boyfriend.

“No, we can’t,” he sighed at how your bottom lip quivered desperately. “I just happened to realize it before you did.”

You loathed the way he was looking at you, the way he was handling you. Not because it was a ploy to get back in your good graces, but because you could tell he was being honest. And that made you resent him even more. But all you could do was melt in his embrace when he wrapped his arms around your torso, hugging you tightly as your body wracked with sobs.

“I may not love you like that anymore, but you’ve worked so hard for the both of us. And I’m sorry I made you find out this way.” He whispered gently against your ear, and felt your heartbeat pound against his chest as you wept endlessly.

“You’ll always be my greatest friend. I’m really sorry, y/n.”

You had never cried so hard the way you did that night. The one person who was your other half. The one person who’d known you the best and the longest, belonged to someone else now. And you were too high off the nostalgia of the sweet moments you both shared, because that’s what got you going. It’s what motivated you to work when all you wanted to do was sleep. It drove you to a certain madness that only bloomed from the scarcity of emotional safety. It was all you knew.

And you were fine with knowing only that. As long as he’d stay…

-

After that night, you took a week off from working at the hospital and decided to do your school work virtually for a while. You stayed cooped up in your house for so long that even your parents, of all people, noticed. You didn’t know how you were going to recover from this.

“Just hop on the next dick,” your other close friend, Bria, suggested while lighting up a blunt.

She decided to visit you after you called her bawling your eyes out while watching your favorite josei anime, Nana for the tenth time. An intervention was wayyy overdue. She cuddled beside you with your favorite snacks splayed on the bed. You almost choked on your coffee at her casual vulgarity, but you understood where she was coming from.

“…it’s not that simple,” you mumbled pitifully.

“Hell no it ain’t, but it’s a start. And fuck that nigga- if he can move on that quickly then so can you.”

A reluctant smile started to creep up your lips. Maybe she was right. There were plenty of people out there who’d treat you so much better than Shika did. You just needed to give yourself a try. Nonetheless, you groaned exasperatedly at the sheer energy that would take and placed your mug on your night stand.

“He’s my first love, tho-“

“And I’ll be good-goddamned if he’s your last... Look at me.”

You continued to look down at your fiddling fingers until you felt a soft hand tilt your chin sideways to face her.

“It’s not fair y/n,” you saw the passionate anger swimming behind Bria’s eyes. “You have no idea how much I hate seeing my best friend like this. You’re too kind, smart and beautiful to wallow in this pain.”

Before you knew it, you felt her thumbs wipe away stray tears from your cheeks. She stuffed the blunt in between your lips and crawled off of your bed. You watched her turn on your favorite music playlist and open your closet door right after. You inhaled a nice, deep drag of weed while curiously trying to make sense of your friend shuffling through your clothes.

“What are you doing?” You inquired while blowing smoke through your nose.

“Making sure you dress like a slut. We’re going out.”

POST-GRADUATION 

You had just become a nurse: after graduating with a bachelor's degree in science and microbiology, you passed the state board and received your certification. The one thing you slaved away for your entire academic life had finally been bestowed upon you, and the fact that your journey had only just begun never failed to boggle your mind.

Luckily you were mentored by a fine professional, so the trials and obstacles that came with your job weren't as surprising as you anticipated. You were prepared, and that’s one of the things you loved most about your journey. You had finally moved out of your parents’ house and rented an apartment of your own. The unlimited privacy was such a breath of fresh air, albeit lonesome. You felt ashamed for not enjoying the solitude, but a big part of you found it necessary for your growth.

You picked up and dropped many hobbies along the way, downloaded a handful of dating apps rancid with men feening for attention and the next heart to abuse. With the rare chances that you were free on your schedule, you dated here and there. Initially there was a thrill that came with it, meeting unique personalities, discovering what worked and what didn’t. The sex was… sex. Only 1 out of the 8-10 people you dated made you orgasm with penetration only and he was the worst fuck nigga you’d ever come across. It didn’t come close to the heartbreak that drove you to put yourself out there in the first place, but he was the catalyst to starting your inevitable celibacy.

So you deleted the dating apps and focused on you, and swore to yourself that when you do date it would be someone who would earn your trust. You even hung out with Ayesha more often and supported her businesses to help get your mind off of the three basic things you worried about on a daily basis.

You hadn’t talked to Shikamaru in 2 years, which was gruesome but needed. Throughout that time you always wondered if he truly missed you. Flashbacks of him would appear the most during dates and there was nothing more annoying than that to endure. At least you started taking therapy. Luckily, you were blessed with a great professional so you decided to make that a norm in your life ever since. The main thing that was so hard to accept about healing was that it got worse first. In every aspect.

-

One day, you were lounging on your couch while mindlessly scrolling through your social media feed. You were so bored and tired, temporary dopamine hits were the only way you had energy to spend your time. That was until a notification popped up on your screen: the notification being Shikamaru’s name.

First things first, why you never blocked him or deleted his contact was beyond you, rationally speaking. Subconsciously, you just couldn’t let go all the way.

You tossed your phone on the table beside you and sat up, staring into nothingness while attempting to process what you’d just witnessed. Your eye twitched when you heard another faint vibration come from your phone.

Is this man seriously texting me right now?

You closed your eyes and took a minute to prepare yourself for any and all impending doom looming from whatever information he’s relaying to you through those messages. You decided to think no further and snatched your device with a worried grunt, and opened the notifications.

It was an invitation.

An invitation to his engagement party…

Followed up with a text that said: It’d be great if you stopped by so we can catch up.

Your hand squeezed your phone tighter and tighter with every word that you read. Your first impulse was to tell him to fuck all the way off and that you hope his party gets ruined. Your next impulse was to ignore it forever and finally block him. The impulse after that was to play it cool and respectfully decline. And the impulse after that was to… scream in your pillow.

You called Bria instead. And after a 2 hour long conversation basically bashing your ex while fighting your crippling anxiety, none of that took away the fact that you missed him. You’ve always missed your friendship with him. It was arguably more fruitful than the romantic affairs you both shared because the feelings were consistently mutual. You didn’t have a sliver of doubt in your mind about it since he never gave you a reason to. He said so himself.

Bria did not approve of your decision to attend the party, she believed it’d just be setting you back years of growth. But you believed in yourself for once. You believed you could handle seeing him again.

-

You could not handle seeing him again. It was the evening of the engagement party, and you were still at home glaring yourself down in the mirror. Your hair was in natural twists at the time, a dainty orchid placed on the side of your head. You wore a silky white slip dress, the shiny satin draping over your curves and dark skin magnificently. You stepped in your matching white mid heels and snatched your purse before you changed your mind about this entire situation.

You reread Bria’s words of encouragement that she texted to you earlier that day, it was the only thing (besides already paying for your Uber) that kept you from turning right back around and throwing your ass in the bed.

When you made it to the destination, you looked up at the top floor to find that the party took place on a terrace. Once you were granted access, you took the elevator. Every minute that passed for the elevator to rise to the top floor churned your stomach to no avail. Goosebumps ravaged your skin with discomfort.

Why am I doing this to myself? You wondered solemnly. He’s getting married for fuck’s sake.

The sound of sleek metal doors opening snapped you out of your self-pitying trance. You stepped out of the elevator and the scenery was simply marvelous: the decorating lanterns, larger-than-life bouquets, and uniquely shaped furniture gave a fairytale-like feel to the event with its illuminating contrast to the night sky. Everyone followed the dress code, the tableware was exquisitely neat, free-form jazz players performed live on an intimate stage, servers carried fancy food with impeccable care. Pretty fitting for the budget of a successful real-estate agent.

You strolled tentatively into the crowd, for you didn’t really know anybody there besides one person. And there that one person was: socializing with his friends while his pretty bride-to-be latched onto his elbow. They were laughing together. They were happy.

“Fuck this shit,” you mumbled and turned your heel to head to the exit.

As you walked, you mentally beat yourself up, shamed yourself for feeding your ego and falling for nostalgia once again instead of taking Ayesha’s advice. You felt the presence of enthusiastic strangers pass you by, the smell of food wafting through your nose, the suave music thrumming in your ears. You’d enjoy it all if you could.

You raised your finger to press the elevator button, but jolted at the feeling of a warm and heavy hand grasping your shoulder. You swiftly turned your body, jaw slightly dropped at Shikamaru standing right in front of you.

He looked down at you with a hopeful glint in his eyes, a relieved smirk adorned his features. He had a new glow to him: his shoulders were relaxed with great posture, his hair grew longer. He was a bit bulkier and got rid of his lip ring. He looked healthy, rounder with contentment.

“Didn’t think you’d come.” His voice got deeper and raspier too.

A shaky sigh escaped you. “Me neither.”

Shika chuckled tentatively, he should’ve expected that.

“You look nice. Appreciate you for following the dress code.”

You nodded your head wordlessly, and looked down at your painted toes. “Yup.”

Your ex scratched the nape of his neck before sinking his hands into his pockets.

“How’ve you been, y/n?”

You blinked a couple times at his tone. It sounded somber and sincere, which is kind of unusual since he’s used to covering up how he really feels about certain things. At least he bothered to ask.

“As well as I can be… I’m a nurse now.”

“Heh, not surprising. I always knew you’d succeed.”

“I guess I can say the same for you. Is selling houses really as fun as it sounds?”

He grimaced teasingly. “Have you even met me?”

You giggled helplessly at his honesty. Shika’s gaze softened at the sound of your laugh, the curve of your smile. You may not have known it, but you were glowing too. In your own y/n way.

“There’s some people I want you to meet. Are you open to it?”

You tapped your chin in faux thought, and revelled in the uneasiness that laced his stare.

“Sure, why not?” You chirped.

An exhale of relief settled the tension in his chest, and he led you to his associates. You met his fellow real estate agents, stock brokers and business owners. They were all nice, but a little handsy- you were not used to multiple men flirting with you at once. A waitress served you a glass of champagne, you politely thanked her and let the chilled alcohol stream down your throat.

You were getting a bit overstimulated from interacting with so many people, you appreciated Shika for being by your side but you honestly needed some quiet. 

“Hey Shika,” you mumbled.

He leaned closer to block out the extra noise. “Yeah?”

“I’m gonna go chill by the balcony.”

He gave you a look of understanding and nodded conclusively. “Let me know if you need anything.”

You gave him a thumbs up. “Will do.”

The breeze was warm yet crisp, you appreciated the way it blew through your hair and skin. After sitting the glass of champagne on a small table beside you, you folded your arms and sat on a plush chair. You looked up at the black canvas of the sky, involuntarily searching for stars as you managed to drown out the background chatter and unwanted sound. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe you could handle this, and maybe you are happy for Shika. Maybe it won’t hurt as much anymore.

-

Temari saw you chatting with her husband-to-be. You were beautiful. Stunning, even, and she disliked how the spit in her mouth was starting to taste like bile. She decided to fraternize with her own friends for a bit, but the way you both got along so seamlessly, even after a shitty breakup was more telling of your bond than she’d ever be comfortable with admitting. Eventually, she caught you heading towards the edge of the terrace where you sat to indulge in whatever world your mind created. Without thinking, she excused herself from her peers, straightened her back and walked towards you in confident strides.

You perked up at the sound of a chair in front of you sliding against the wooden floor, until your mouth sagged into a subtle frown at the sight of Shikamaru’s fiancée. She took her seat with a curt sigh and folded her hands on her lap. Your eyes had met for the first time that night. Her gaze sharpened with blazing intent, though it wasn’t malicious. Not in the slightest. You looked at her with a sense of peaceful mellowness, almost awestruck. Why you gave her that look, she didn’t know, but it made her feel like she could soften her guard. Just a bit.

“We haven’t properly met. I’m Temari, Shikamaru’s future wife.”

You took a sip of your drink. You wanted to snap back with a witty remark, but you knew that would serve you absolutely nothing. “Yeah, I gathered that.”

She was impressed with the way you maintained eye contact with her, and decided to proceed with this interaction. 

“Do you know why I allowed my fiancée to invite you to our party?”

You set your glass down with a burp and slouched against the cushion of your chair. You were gonna need another drink. “Enlighten me.”

Temari unfolded her hands and fiddled with her engagement ring. “A few months ago, I caught him staring at a picture of you and him back in middle school. He’d tell me stories of the childhood memories you both shared with a certain fondness. Would you be happy if I said I was quite envious?”

“Not at all,” you waved off with a hand. “And if I’m being honest, you shouldn’t be.”

The woman before you leaned forward to get a closer look at you. “Enlighten me.”

“Because he was an insufferable child,” you deadpanned.

“Really?”

“Nah, he was chill.”

Temari lifted a brow at your humor and snorted. You lolled your head to the side and rested your chin on an open palm. 

“Either way, he loved you enough to choose you as his wife. That’s all that matters now.”

Temari slowly but surely started to understand why Shika befriended you. Even more so why he still wanted you in his life. She mirrored your lax posture and sank into her seat. She wanted to ask questions about your break up but that was none of her concern and she didn’t want to trigger a painful memory.

“You matter too, y’know?”

“Which is exactly why I pondered on why I even came here.”

“Because you’re a supportive friend.”

“Hmph…” you idly held your torso while cradling your empty glass. Temari noticed the somber weight your eyes held and decided to call for a waiter.

Once they came, she ordered 1 glass of wine for herself and one refill for you. 

“Would you like anything to eat, y/n?” That was the first time she addressed you by your name.

You gulped and requested your food choice, deciding to make yourself more comfortable. While you both waited for service, you began asking each other questions about yourselves rather than continue talking about your respective histories with the same man. You surprisingly had a lot in common and to Temari’s delight, you were the first person to make her guffaw obnoxiously with teary eyes from your jokes alone. Y’all even exchanged numbers at some point.

Your rowdy conversations were quite the head-turners and felt yourselves getting quite tipsy with liquor. But the genuine enjoyment of each other’s company was much stronger. You didn't notice Shika staring at you both with golf balls for eyes. The two most important women in his life were getting along so well all of a sudden, which was not a predicament he’d ever considered witnessing.

The party began to wrap up, and Shika and Temari offered to give you a ride home since the air was starting to get chilly. You meekly obliged, feeling a bit foreign in the personal space of their car.

You were gonna give Bria an earful when you got home.

This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

Nirvana: A Rock Lee Tale (Chapter 4)

Summary: Your dating life is terrible. Your friends’ marriage is fantastic. Your career as a medic is doing great, though. But you aren’t happy. However, after one quick trip to the Mighty Rock Dojo, you stumble upon the most magnificent man you’ve ever met- the taijutsu master- Rock Lee.

Notes: slow burn fic, afab/fem/black reader.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, (light) descriptions of blood and violence, usage of the N word. The reader and Lee are in their 20s but virtually any age group that is 18 and up can enjoy this story. Again 18+, minors do not interact… pls.

Word count: 6.3k

Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Shikamaru loves his late father’s lighter. At the tender age of seventeen, he found it in one of his coat pockets in the closet after his funeral. It’s one of those old school classic lighters that you flick open and to this day, it’s the only one he uses to smoke. A morning glory flower is engraved into the sleek silver, and it’s the same flower that Shikamaru orders in his wife’s bouquets. Sometimes he doesn’t even use his lighter for smoking. He’ll just stare at it or keep it in his fist, rubbing the smooth round edges to ground him when logic and practicality no longer pay for his taxing burdens.

This is exactly what he’s doing now: one hand caging the lighter in his pocket while using the other to emphasize important phrases with gestures,as he tries to convince the couple why they need to buy this mansion. The words he finesses them with make up for almost any preconceived concern that they may have with the property, his gravelly tone carrying the undeniable confidence necessary to sell it.

The three stroll through the hallways, and the couple takes in the interior that they imagine looking at for the rest of their lives. The wife is beaming, running her fingers across the lustrous wallpaper while also investing her attention on the little history lesson Shikamaru teaches them about the house. The husband nods along to the story wordlessly, grabbing his woman’s hand as they follow the real estate agent into the kitchen.

He’s not really feeling how loudly the wood creaks beneath his feet, or how the cabinets in the kitchen are wooden despite the variety of building materials that adorn this establishment. However, Shikamaru ain’t paid to do nothing. So he turns around, releases the lighter in his pocket and raises both his hands to stop the customers.

“The intramural design of this house is pretty old, I’ll admit. But one of our most trusted general contractors is already drafting the modern upgrade of the interior.”

The husband raises a brow. “Such as?”

“Glad you asked.” He walks by the marble counters and opens one of the cabinets. “Why have wooden cabinets when there are significantly more durable options? Our contractor can laminate a sheet of acrylic or stainless steel over the medium-density fiberboard.”

Shikamaru leans on the countertop. “It's your choice, of course, but acrylic is susceptible to scratches.”

The wife hums in thought, realizing she hadn’t noticed the material of the cabinets until now. She feels her man let go of her hand, the chill air hitting her moistened palm. He clears his throat.

“Okay, but-“

Shika’s coldly sharp eyes quietly welcome the man with his full attention.

“How much will the installment cost? And what can we do about these creaky wooden floors? Will that also add to the price?”

“Nope.” Shika doesn’t miss a beat, lightly pushing himself off the marble. “Since our contractor has been working on this project before you found it, you won’t be paying for any upgrades on their behalf. S’just how we do business.”

The wife’s eyes crinkle in relief, hooking her elbow with her husband’s so she can rest her cheek on his shoulder.

“Does this apply to ordering a security system?” The husband continues.

“Well… no. You’ll hafta pay for that since it’s not a part of-“

Shika’s phone vibrates in his back pocket like a war cry in a distant battle zone. It’s on Do Not Disturb for obvious reasons, but his intuition tells him it’s a call he shouldn’t ignore. And he never ignores his gut. So, he excuses himself for a millisecond only to check who could be calling.

It’s his own wife.

What does this woman want? He thinks. I’m about to sell this house in fifteen minutes anyway. She can wait.

He turns off his phone, facing the couple whispering lowly to each other with approving nods and content-laced grins.

“Sorry about that.” He sighs. “Where were we?”

-

>>Your call has been forwarded to an au-

Temari shuts off her phone, eyebrows pinching into a soft cringe as she glares at the black screen.

This is the third time her husband hasn’t answered her calls, what’s worse is that they’ve barely seen or even interacted with each other in the last couple weeks. He always excused it with ‘gotta sell another house” or “too tired, we’ll talk later” or toe curling sex like that’s enough justification to shut her up. But Temari shuts up when Temari wants to shut up, and Temari once again may hafta spend another day sleeping on their shared california king bed without Temari’s man. 

The exhausted woman scoffs, tossing her device on the couch as she slouches to reach the TV remote. The screen illuminates with the press of a button, and the channel displays a reality show. Images of a bunch of older women are raising their drinks in a toast to celebrate whatever the fuck, and it made Temari think of you.

Y’all haven’t had a proper hang out since she and Shika took you to the dojo, maybe some girl time could give her a less jaded outlook on the situation.

I’ll reach out later, she thinks.

-

Today is Veteran’s Day. Lee is at a restaurant eating with his sensei, Might Guy, and Neji. They’re celebrating Guy’s survival of the Fourth Great War, so it’s not surprising that he and Neji have downed a couple shots of whiskey. Lee, on the other hand, contently sips on his humble glass of cranberry juice from a squiggly straw.

“And so get this,” Neji chuckles, talking as if his face isn't beet red with liquor. “He puts slippers on her feet like she's Cinderella, and then she thanks him with the most unamused tone possible and walks away with a face so lifeless you could mistake her for a zombie.”

Guy Sensei cackles and slaps an open palm on the table. Lee pouts, shooting Neji the sassiest side-eye he can muster at his stupid humor, but his friend just ignores him while slurping on some ramen. Lee hums, gently placing his glass cup down before resting his chin on his folded hands.

“And yet she's the same woman who agreed to go on a date with me tomorrow.”

Guy Sensei drops his jaw with a gasp and Neji drops his chopsticks. 

“And you're telling us this now?” Neji glares at him, but there's no real irritation in his tone. His eyes glow with pride for his friend.

Guy Sensei grips his shoulder lovingly, a serious expression adorns his face.

“I know I never really bothered teaching you how to love a woman.” The thrumming bass in his demanding voice carried subtle waves of regret and faith. “But despite all that you've been through, you taught yourself how to do it. That's how I know you've always had it in you. I'm proud of you, my boy.”

Lee feels his lips wobble with joy and turns to Neji who closes his eyes with his own knowing smile.

“Th-thanks Guy Sensei. I think I hit the jackpot with this one!”

Guy leans his back into his wheelchair with a hand rubbing his chin.

“I’m glad,” he grumbles. “Tenten’s lost her choke hold on you, I see.”

Neji’s eyes rip open and his smile melts away. He snaps his head to Lee, who’s already frowning while his eyes stare a thousand yards ahead of him. Guy catches onto the shift in the aura and watches his student’s depressing reaction with subtle horror.

“I’m sorry Lee,” Guy sighs guiltily. “I thought you were over her.”

Lee lowers his unfolding hands from his chin. No one’s mentioned my ex-fiance in years, he thinks. I thought I was over her too. He inhales deeply and takes a swig from his cranberry juice.

“Her memory still brings me pain,” he prompts reluctantly.

Neji side-eyes Guy before looking down at his now-cold ramen. He's losing his appetite, and it's not even about him, all because Sensei couldn't watch his mouth. 

Suddenly, images of your tear-stained face, your beautiful smile, and your relentless kindness replaces the void in his chest with a warmth only you can provide. And he can't help but smile, more tenderly, this time.

“But not only have I grown stronger, I have another chance with an amazing woman.” he turns to the window beside him and gazes up at the blue sky, hope twinkling in his eyes.

“For the first time in a long time,” he turns his gaze back to Guy. “I look forward to loving again.”

Neji and Guy silently marvel at his growth and maturity. It’s now Guy’s turn to make a wobbly smile, quietly sniffling as he reaches to hold Lee’s hand. He offers his hand to his other student as well, and Neji hesitantly accepts it with a hopeless sigh. But he's also smiling again, nonetheless.

-

Today is the day you go out with Lee! You both decided he’d pick you up at your place at 7 pm, so you have the whole day to pamper yourself. You’re with your best friend Bria, and both of you are getting your nails done by her nail tech. Bria is another childhood friend of yours, y’all met in elementary school. She had to move to a neighboring state for college, but y’all always kept in touch when you could.

You sigh happily against the massage chair, feeling the tension around your shoulder blades erode while watching the color on your nails blossom with each stroke of the tiny brush.

“Bri, this is the best,” you groan softly. “Thank you.”

“Girl don’t even stress it, you know I missed you.” She rolls her eyes lovingly.

You chuckle sweetly. Bria always showed her affection by spoiling the people who have their own little place in her big heart. You understood why, you just didn’t feel comfortable having money spent on you. However, as years passed, Bria helped you realize that you rejected the way she loved because you felt like a burden - like if she burned some cash for you it'd ultimately be a waste. 

But ever since y’all met, you’ve supported her through many trials and tribulations. You were her strength when she was weak, especially after she was homeless for a period after being kicked out by her abusive grandmother. You and your father took her in when no one else would, and helped her get back on her feet. You made her feel like a normal teen amidst all the chaos. Without you, she would've never been able to blossom into the highly successful woman she is today, finally having her own home and even owning two businesses. From Bria’s point of view, the very least she can do is prepare you for your highly anticipated date.

Your nails are finished and they’re so you: stiletto shaped with a French, purple chrome tip. Bria’s nails are long and Spongbob themed which makes you giggle uncontrollably but at the same time they look dumb good. All this pretty art and not a single dent in your pockets - as it should be.

-

Next up is a shopping spree, but y’all only buy from one store. It’s a small thrift boutique with tons of vintage brands, Bria knows you love your 20 plus year old classics. God, it’s like a hidden museum riddled with ancient yet modernized pieces here. You feel like you’re time traveling as you scan through so many garments; some premiered in 90s runways from Paco Rabanne to Mugler. Where the fuck did the store owner get these?? Your brain ponders in a fashion-crazed frenzy.

While remaining hyper vigilant, you make sure to find something that doesn’t stand out but still screams classy. Simple yet effective. 

“Ayo Bri,” you call out, unable to see your friend anywhere.

“Yeah, hun?” She responds from the other side of the boutique. Predicting her exact location, you put your items in a cart and follow her voice. You show her your selection. Her eyes and fingers silently run over every ridge, every crease, every edge. The cotton is smoothly refined, beautifully dyed and feels amazing.   Your bestie nods affirmingly with a sharp grin.

“…You gon drive him crazy.”

“Like I don’t already.” You scoff.

Bria guffaws as you eagerly throw your arms around her shoulders, swaying you both side to side.

-

It’s 4pm, and y’all finally make it back to your apartment. Luckily, you have a few hours to settle in so you won’t hafta rush to get ready. Both of you sit on your couch while watching Bernie Mac. Bria pours two glasses of Pinot Noir while you take down your twists. You feel the cushion drain your energy from beneath you, but the idea of missing Lee’s inevitable call straightens your back and forces you awake. 

“Pookieee, you never showed me a pic of your lover boyyy,” Bria whines before taking a sip of some wine. Her brow raises unexpectedly at its richness.

You cease your twist out and reach for your phone. You never caught a proper portrait of Lee’s face, but you would sneak a few pics of him sparring with multiple fighters at once. So you show her those. She brings the screen closer to her face, and her eyes bulge out of her sockets.

“DAMN,” She barks. “Bruce Lee who?”

Your jaw drops, gently slapping her thigh at her boldness.

“Don’t disrespect Bruce’s legacy like tha-

“I’M NOT! LOOK,” Bria scrunches her eyes and zooms in on his body. “You can see his muscles through the clothes. THROUGH THE CLOTHES!”

You feel yourself wheezing, a hand over your clenching abdomen to ease the burn of laughter. But you can’t disagree, Lee’s stunning like that.

“Bri… I can’t with you,” you huff with a weak smile.

“Sure ya can!” Bria chirps, framing her words with a fake southern accent. She stay playing.

-

It’s 6:45 pm and you’re all dolled up; hair done, makeup done, outfit on, perfume spritzed. Bria takes a bunch of pics, squealing in delight at how much you ate up this look. She’s proud, so proud of the queen you’ve become.

“Bitch, ya lover boy lucky I’m straight.” 

You smile goofily, about to respond to her joke until you feel your phone vibrate in your hand.

You take it out and Lee’s contact brightens your screen. Bria slaps a palm over her mouth when you answer the call.

“H-Hello?”

Lee closes his eyes, reveling in how sweet and lovely you sound.

“Hi angel,” he chuckles gently. “I’m downstairs.”

You press your thighs together. That voice of his; a deep raspiness thrumming with a tone so sensual, it caresses every nerve in your body. To top it off with a pet name, and he arrives early?? Wheww.

“Okay. C-coming down.”

You hang up and turn to face your friend. She hugs your shoulders and wishes you the best night ever. 

“You can spend the night here if you want, ‘kay?” You coo. Bria nods appreciatively against your neck.

“I’ll save some wine for you,” she whispers.

“No you won’t.” She snorts at how well you know her.

You take your keys, purse and blow Bria a kiss before locking the door behind you.

-

Lee stands outside, leaning against the door of his car as he waits patiently for you. He tugs at his gray slacks, wondering if he should have entrusted his suit to Neji’s personal tailor. He snaps his head up when he hears your door unlock. Your black stiletto pumps clack as you descend down the steps like a goddess from her shrine. He couldn’t look away. He just physically couldn’t.

“Oh my god…” he mumbles, staring hopelessly at your figure; a royal purple sweater dress that reaches your mid-calf, fitting you like a glove as the soft fabric hugs every curve, crease and roll that adorns your body; smoky eyes and a glossy lip accentuate your soft glow; pretty round face framed with an afro- the radiant moonlight illuminating your fluffy coils. You watch your step while gracefully lifting the bottom of the black vintage mink coat draped over your shoulders. He feels like falling to his knees at the sight of you.

After approaching him, you stop at arm’s length so you can take him in. Calling Lee sexy would be a disserving understatement; the gray suit he’s wearing clings to his body with tasteful minimalism; it’s not too baggy, nor is it too tight; the fabric’s at peak quality, smoothly pressed, but not too shiny; you could see the bulk of his thighs slightly stretch his pants (the hems are cropped to perfection); the top four buttons on his black shirt are undone, so you can see his sternum and a delicious peak of his pecs. This fit frames his build with such majestic subtlety, you can't help but undress him with your eyes from head to polished boot.

“Lee! You… you look so handsome,” there’s that familiar lilt of humble adoration in your voice he loves oh so much. It boosts his ego, yet doesn’t soar it to great heights- he’s used to not getting any compliments on his appearance besides his impeccable physique. The rosiness that blooms on his cheeks is evident enough of that.

“Thank you,” he smiles softly. “I know you’re always beautiful no matter what you wear. It- it’s just..”

He nibbles on his bottom lip without ceasing eye contact, the sight urges you to look down shyly but you’re too mesmerized by him to tear your gaze.

“Seeing you tonight has confirmed to me that you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.”

Gravity wins the battle and you finally look down, feeling like you’ll melt into a puddle if he gives you any more sweet praises.

“Th-thank you, Lee. That means a lot.” 

“Of course,” There’s a reassurance in his tone that boosts your ego as well, making you feel like his flattery isn’t just flattery. He makes it feel like a widely accepted fact amongst the masses of an entire nation. No man has ever made you feel that way, you couldn’t depend on them to do that. It took your whole life up until now to realize yourself that you’re the shit, you were always the shit, and forever will be the shit.

He turns to open the door for you, making sure the ends of your fur don’t graze the pavement as you step inside the vehicle.

-

The ride to the restaurant is quiet, words have yet to be exchanged between you two.This kinda baffles Lee because he’s been on plenty of dates; but there’s something about your aura, the way you carry yourself with such poise, from how you speak to how you sit- his face just won’t stop heating up- he's terrifed of messing this up.

You on the other hand are just chilling; basking in the woody scent of his car that mixes with the expensive cologne radiating from Lee in small, balanced whiffs. He smells like cinnamon, sweet and warm while trailing a sharp spiciness. You sense his hesitation, but you don’t know what to say either. And date or not, you refuse to force small talk. It makes you feel icky. So you just enjoy his presence silently.

You’re both halfway to your destination and Lee decides to restart his brain a little. He turns on the radio, making sure the music is only loud enough for both of you to listen casually. Barbra Streisand’s The Way We Were plays in the background. I loved this song as a teen, you think. Gosh I was a hopeless romantic… still am. You ponder if that was ever a bad thing. Or if you were just scared of the fact that you either love passionately, or don’t at all. 

You ponder if that even matters right now.

Lee hums every note Barbra sings with attentive effort, his finger tapping against the wheel to match the feather-light percussion’s rhythm.

“Smiles we gave to one another,” you turn your head to him, not expecting his singing to enchant you the way it does. “For the way we were…”

He sounds so invested in the moment, simply appreciating the song by singing along. Your heart skips a beat when he shifts his gaze to you, a silly smile raising his cheeks before returning his focus on the road ahead. It makes you strangely jealous, the way he so easily erased the growing tension between you two.

You want to do that. You want to do that for yourself, for the people around you, for your patients. Maybe you already do, but you don’t think anyone can do it quite like Lee does.

-

“SO IT’S THE LAUGHTER WE WILL REMEMBER. WHENEVER WE REMEMBER..”  your mouths hang low as you both shout the sentimental lyrics at the top of your lungs. Your bodies sway to the music with fervent enthusiasm like you’re in a soap opera, like it’s the last song you both will ever sing. You feel so free. You both don’t mind how crazy y’all might sound belting notes slightly beyond your registers, for your hearts called out to Streisand’s magnificent delivery of an undeniably nostalgic message. You both feel so free.

“The way we were. The way we… were.” The song concludes with the introductory hums from earlier, and you feel yourself sink back into your seat.

“Damn!” You exclaim. “You got some pipes, Lee.”

Laughter erupts from Lee’s chest. “I can say the same for you too, y/n.”

-

You finally make it to the restaurant and the exterior design is sleek and well illuminated. Lee walks ahead to open the door for you, and you thank him before entering the establishment. You’d expect the interior to have a modern style similar to other restaurants you’ve dined at. To your delightful surprise it’s very old-school. The lights are dimmed to increase the intimacy but not to the point where it’s hard to see. Shika and Temari would love this place, you think. Speaking of that, I wonder if everything’s okay between those two.

A waiter approaches the two of you.

“Good evening, my name is Jeremy,” he prompts. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes,” Lee verifies. “Under the name Rock Lee.”

“Right this way.” Jeremy smiles politely and leads you both to a booth in a secluded corner.

The round table is draped in a black cloth and decorated with silver utensils, two Riesling wine glasses and burgundy twin candles. Even the seats are adorned in red velvet fabric. Is this how royalty dines everyday?

Before stopping yourself, you tug on the hem of Lee’s sleeve. He looks down at you and the concern in his expression almost makes your incoming words clog up your throat. It’s too all too much. He’s just too much.

“Lee… you didn’t hafta do all this.” You protest weakly.

Lee blinks at you, big eyes widening as he processes your remark.

“ ‘Course I did,” he says matter-of-factly. “You deserve it, princess. Now, let’s eat!”

He waits for you to release your hold. You let go of him, feeling your cheeks puff up in a small grin. He pulls back a chair, offering you your seat. You thank him once more as he steadily pushes your chair forward so you’re close enough to the table. He sits across from you while you shrug off your coat. 

After taking off his own jacket, he rolls up his sleeves and his forearms look delectable; the way his veins protrude as his muscles flex makes you imagine how they’d feel wrapped around your neck from behind as he p-

“Here are your menus,” Jeremy gives you each a fancy pamphlet listing all the available dishes and beverages. You both make sure to receive them with verbal gratitude and scan your options.

You want to pull out your phone so you can look up these Italian words, but you don’t want to violate the etiquette so you read the ingredients of each meal from the menu instead. Your eyes follow Lee’s confused ones, and hide a snort with your pamphlet when he asks the waiter what a certain meal is and completely butchers the pronunciation of the dish’s name.

After requesting your appetizers, you both wait patiently with a glass of wine in your hand and a glass of orange juice in Lee’s.

You raise your glass to the crease of your mouth, but something about Lee sitting prim and content with his orange juice peaks an interest within that urges you to indulge it.

“Not a fan of drinking?”

Lee lowers his glass at your question, swallowing a glob of spit to brace himself. Yes, he’s not obligated to answer that question and could just manage a way to politely change the subject. Or, he could tell the truth no matter how mercilessly his shame is clawing at his back. However, the sincerity behind the bleakness of his past sprouts in the form of a relaxed smile embellishing his features.

“I was an alcoholic,” Lee makes sure he’s loud enough so you can’t misconstrue the truth in his words. “Been sober for five years… going on six.”

Lee stares at you and waits. He waits for your reaction, your character, the potential volume of your heart. He sits and stares, looking for any judgment in your eyes. He knows how mature and grounded you are, Neji and Guy Sensei have helped him see those traits in admirable people. But you’re going to have to accept all of him if he’s going to give you all of him.

You turn your head, scanning the area for the nearest waiter. Luckily there’s one who’s an earshot away from you. To Lee’s confusion, you summon them for assistance.

“Hi, how can I help you?” Inquires the waiter.

“May I have a glass of orange juice, please? I’d like to return the wine.”

Lee’s eyes widen, wondering why his lungs no longer feel like they’re being buried by dumbbells. But rather, they feel like an inflated balloon, like a sky lantern floating gracefully into the atmosphere until they look like one of the infinite stars so impossibly far away. Except, you’re right in front of him.

“Yes, of course.” The waiter grabs the glass and bottle of Riesling, retreating to the kitchen.

“Thank you,” you mumble, mindlessly watching them walk away.

A heavy sigh pulls you from your trance. You turn your attention to the man before you, his chin resting on his palm while dreamily gazing at you.

“Why did you do that?” He blinks slowly, and the nonchalance of his grin almost perfectly masks his bewilderedness.

“Because I'm proud of you! Five years is no easy milestone.”

Lee leans back against his seat, carefully drinking in the subtle meekness in your eyes. Yes, you were a bit nervous, twiddling with your nails while wondering if the gesture you just pulled was really necessary.

“No one’s ever done something like that for me before. Thank you, angel.”

Lee raises his chin, briefly facing the decorated ceiling with his eyes closed while reveling in this moment you’ve blessed him with.

“Of course…!” You lean a tad bit forward, folding your hands on the dining table. “ You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. In body and spirit.”

A hearty chuckle slips through Lee’s lips, and the sound rumbles through your brain.

The waiter comes back with the orange juice and pours you a new drink. You thank them as they leave and raise your glass towards the man before you.

“To five years?” You prompt with a shy smile stretching your thick lips.

Lee straightens his posture, and reaches for his drink. He ascends the glass and clinks it gently against yours, the look on his face so relaxed and at peace. A quiet sombreness radiates from the satisfaction of this precious moment because of the unbearable days he had to bear just to experience it. And yet, that resentful trail of suffering led him to share an intimacy with someone he never ever thought he’d encounter. You are invaluable, and he’s gonna make sure you enjoy every second you spend with him.

“To five years.”

-

The ride back to your place is a bit noisier, y’all don’t sing this time but rather continue the intellectually fruitful and deeply polarizing conversations you shared back at the restaurant. So much depth:

“Fave powerpuff girl?”

Lee takes a shallow breath at your question, pondering on how to answer most truthfully.

“Y’know, quite a few people thought I liked Buttercup because we both have short black hair and our color is green but…” Lee kisses his teeth in thought while steadily swerving onto the next block..

“Bubble’s innocent naivety and relentless bliss always resonated with me,” he shrugs while looking ahead. “I wanted to be the ‘happiest citizen of Townsville’ for the sixth year in a row when I was a toddler.”

You snort, resting your elbow below the passenger window. “You know, she gets extremely aggressive when she’s mad though.”

“Another reason why I love her! She’s so underestimated as a fighter but is the most feared by Mojo Jojo himself.”

You loll your head in Lee’s direction. “Jojo is not a very impressive villain. I mean, you didn’t forget about HIM, did you?”

Lee catches a glimpse of how your pretty eyes slant a bit when you playfully smirk at him, an image he snapshots with his brain.

“Who can forget the most manipulative, morally inept character in that show? S’why he’s so interesting!”

“His fashion sense is interesting too,” you remark while recollecting the character’s iconic design. “Wanted to dress up as him for Halloween back in kindergarten.”

Lee bellows at the thought of a tiny version of you embellished in red crab hands and a pointy chin beard.  Shameless laughter has never sounded sexy to you. But after seeing his cheeks rise and eyes crinkle shut in hopeless glee; after seeing the way his sharp jaw falls open to let out that deep bass rumbling through the car. You want to make him do it again. You want to drink it in, to feel him do it again.

“You’d look so adorable,” he wheezes while resting his forehead against the wheel.

You try to ignore the effect he has on you. You try to ignore how contagious he is, but a few sniggers escape your lips in merry futility.

“Thank you…” you turn to look through your passenger window, taking in the streets and architecture that look more and more similar to your home as Lee drives by. 

“Your Bubbles cosplay would be quite convincing, if I do say so myself.” You add.

“Don't tempt me, princess.” Lee continues to look ahead, but you can see a sneer creep up his handsome features in a way that makes you cackle unabashedly.

-

“This is you, right?”

“Yep!”

Your date pulls up right in front of your apartment, and you reflect on your time with him while he unplugs the key from his car. You had so much fun; didn’t feel stressed in any way, you ate good, you learned so much more about Lee than you ever expected to; you secretly hope he knows more about you too.

Lee steps out of the car and opens your side of the door. He offers his hand for you to balance yourself as you step onto the jagged pavement. While nodding your head in gratitude, you feel your pores prick open at the rough texture of his palm. His fingers are solid and scarred, yet so soothingly warm just for you.

Before you take out your keys to unlock the gate, you turn to face the man’s chest before you. You look up to find those big eyes, and his gaze consumes you; he tucks his hands in his pockets, sighing as he stares lovingly at you; lidded eyes and a lazy smile, you got him on cloud nine. It gives you the urge to cower, but you don’t want to. The way he is looking at you right now, with such an undeniable bliss, urges you to face the fear. To judge yourself a little less. It’s quiet for a few moments, the both of you kinda just stare at each other but it’s comfortable. Not awkward, just the both of you. No one else. 

“I don’t want this night to end.” You pout, a little whine erupting in your throat.

Lee chuckles lowly at the adorable sight, quietly grateful that you show this side of yourself to him.

“It doesn’t have to,” his tender tone sugarcoats the fearless conviction in his words.

You briefly shut your eyes in a frown and take a deep breath. “Yes… yes it does.”

Lee’s smile doesn’t even falter, he’s simply grateful that you blessed him with your precious time and presence.

“Well,” he sighs. “I had a wonderful time with you. You’re wonderful, y’know that?” The bass in his voice rasps you away into the air while simultaneously grounding you. Your eyes drop to your heels so you can hide your silly grin. 

Lee takes a step closer, and he can smell the vanilla and honey wafting from your shiny coils. The warm cologne radiating from his body starts to insulate your own. His throat bobs with every subtle gulp, and you feel like taking a step back because it’s so much but not even close to enough.

A tiny gasp escapes your lips when Lee gently cups your chin with his hand, slowly tilting your head up so you can look him in the eyes. He tightens his grip on your cheeks, just enough to watch your lips squish cutely together.

“You know that, right sweetheart?” 

Oh. So it’s like that.

Didn’t take him for a fucking tease, you think.

“Right,” you whisper mindlessly. ”But if I’m so wonderful…”

 You gulp, “Then why don’t you kiss me already?”

Lee’s smirk grows back. There you go, he thinks. Demand what’s yours.

The man before you swipes a careful thumb over your bottom lip before dragging his other fingertips across your cheek. He caresses the smooth skin before gripping the back of your neck, and pulls you in.

Your hands instinctively find their place on his chest to brace yourself.

His mouth hovers just a stray hair from yours, and you can feel his minty breath set your goosebumps aflame. He languidly plants his lips onto your plush ones, groaning at how pillowy they are. Lee shamelessly expressing how good you make him feel makes you squirm slightly against his hold. He slowly snakes an arm around the small of your back, tugging you closer until your torsos press together. His hands massage your waist and upper back while holding you, appreciating as much of your body as he can. The print of his abs poke your soft tummy through his shirt and you melt against him, letting your shaky hands run up his chest until they grasp onto the junction between his neck and shoulders. Lee angles his head to deepen the kiss, your breaths get heavier and you start panting at how overwhelming he’s being.

He loosens his jaw to lick a teasing stripe up the corner of your lips, silently requesting more access which goes straight to your poor pussy. Your tongues mold together, muffling the pathetic whimpers that escape your mouth and Lee swallows the delectable sound. It’s filthy... You love it so much.

You haven’t been kissed like this in at least three years, don’t even know what to do with yourself anymore. You feel like this man’s delving into your soul, peeling you layer by layer with just his mouth. You can only imagine a pleasure that the rest of his body would drown you in.

You start feeling antsy, like if you don’t stop now Lee will take you to a corner store for some plan b. You scream inwardly, knowing you’ll be fucking your toy until its battery dies instead when you go upstairs. So you gently shove him away, causing your spit-slicked lips to separate with a lewd ‘pop’. Lee releases your waist, watching you inhale deeply as you awkwardly button his suit jacket.

“See you at the dojo. And get home safely,” you whisper with a tight smile, patting his chest conclusively before walking to your gate. The jingling of your keys snaps Lee out of his trance, a meek little “I will” tumbling from his lips before he retreats back into his vehicle.

Lee runs a tired hand through his black strands, lazily holding some hair in his fist while replaying his new three months worth of daydreaming fantasies. God you’re so divine to him; your lips are divine, the way your eyebrows scrunched together when he tongue-fucked your mouth was divine, how your tits pressed against him when he held you was divine, your needy voice when he french kissed you just how you like was divine. And the way Lee looks down to see a tent in his pants- beads of precum seeping into the fabric- harbors peak divinity.

-

You open your apartment door, catching Bria snuggling with your Kuromi in a blissful slumber. After closing the door behind you, you kick off your heels and pad your way to your bedroom. You decide to sleep naked tonight, chilling under your comforter while scrolling through Instagram.

Your phone vibrates and Temari’s caller ID pops up on your screen.

I haven’t heard from her in a while, you wonder. How’s she been doing?

You answer.

This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

Nirvana: A Rock Lee Tale (Chapter 3)

Summary: Your dating life is terrible. Your friends’ marriage is fantastic. Your career as a medic is doing great, though. But you aren’t happy. However, after one quick trip to the Mighty Rock Dojo, you stumble upon the most magnificent man you’ve ever met- the taijutsu master- Rock Lee.

Notes: slow burn fic, afab/fem/black reader.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, (light) descriptions of blood and violence, usage of the N word. The reader and Lee are in their 20s but virtually any age group that is 18 and up can enjoy this story. Again 18+, minors do not interact… pls.

Word count: 4.49k

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You snatch your phone and squeeze its power button as if trying to choke it dead, tossing it back on your nightstand with your face still buried in your Sanrio plushies. You slowly turn your body to lie on your back, rubbing your eyes resentfully as the morning light threatens to blind you. To your dismay, your sight finally adjusts and you force yourself to sit up. Your mood is always sour after a deep slumber, and the placelessness of your home isn’t doing much to alleviate that; your room is messy - bags of random shit on the floor, small containers full of trash, neglected dishes in strange areas. And yet there is no real personality to your room; no posters, no vibrant colors, the Kuromi and My Melody pillows you bought just seem like a lazy attempt at decorating such a boring space. Even the smell of your room consists simply of old hand-me-downs and stale food. But you have no energy to change that. Especially not on a work day.

If it weren't for Lee driving you home last night you’d be hurting even more than you already are. You walk into your bathroom and turn your sink faucet, wondering what his morning routine consists of. He always seems so put together and disciplined- you never see him in a low mood besides the time he thought he was weirding you out. Which gives you a warm, tingly feeling inside. You brush your teeth, take a shower, do your skincare, and decide to put on a purple nursing uniform - you want to feel a bit more regal today. Sliding off your bonnet, you neaten the coils of your hair with a basic style and a couple of decorative jewels you bought from the beauty supply. 

You only prepare cereal for breakfast, just need to put something in your stomach before taking your meds and vitamins. Your entire apartment is silent, aside from the subtle crunching as you chew, and the tick-tocking of your vintage clock - which never tells the right time. The lighting of your kitchen is dull and old, and the cracked white paint coating the walls threatens to peel away with every passing second. You wash your bowl and spoon after eating. You hate taking pills because they almost always get stuck in your throat. But you need them, at least that's what your psychiatrist says, what your family says, what the internet says.

You head to the living room and put on your coat (the news says the temperature will drop), carry your other necessities for the day, and lock your front door behind you. The train you take to work is a couple of blocks away, and as you walk there you shut your mouth to keep your teeth from clattering.

“Shit,” you hiss, watching your breath frost in the air as you dig your fists in the cotton of your pockets. You would’ve asked Shika to drive you to the hospital but he’s already working in his office, and you just didn't wanna spend your precious money on an Uber. Plus… you need the exercise? 

-

It's been a month since you and Lee first met. As you make your way to the hospital, Lee’s training his disciples with Neji. They both stroll together while monitoring the men who stand on their arms instead of their legs, descending and rising with every push-up. They’re quiet like trees, anyone can see the almost agonizing dedication mold the contours of their muscles as they lift their bodies. It reminds Lee of the times he never failed to catch how your widening eyes would ogle his profession - his passion - with pure adoration. You’d cheer on his students when they duel and support the ones who struggle or are insecure with their craft. 

“Thank you for assisting me on your day off, Neji. I know how busy life gets,” Lee says, scratching the back of his head while watching for any signs of faltering performances. 

Neji nods with a quiet scoff. “You know I'll always have room for taijutsu, and you’re family.” He folds his hands behind his back. “How’s the dojo?”

Lee’s eyes light aflame. “It’s never been better! More people are attending after y/n joined.”

“Ah…yes, I never got to properly thank her for her treatment. It was excellent.” Neji tilted his head up, dwelling on the patches he had removed several days ago.

“I know, right? Members who didn't visit often started coming every week just to see her. She teaches such great things.”

Neji hums with acknowledgment. “You should tell her that. Maybe during dinner?”���

Lee looks down at the matted floor, eyes frowning with a lopsided smile. He grips his nape with a chuckle.

“Hehe, I dunno. She seems hella busy.”

Neji scowls, his long locks swaying to the shake of his head. “Everyone’s busy. Don’t let that stop you from having fun.”

Lee sighs.

“Thank you, Neji.” His hand falls to his hip. Both men ignore the growing grunts of exhaustion amongst the students.

“Plus she might be lonely. Like you.”

“I’m not!” Lee sputtered. “I have you, Guy Sensei, my students -“

A faint crack resonates in the short distance- causing them both to snap their heads at his disciples- a couple of them break their positions, resting on their knees as they gasp for air. Lee claps his hands firmly, making sure the cacophony echoes throughout the dojo..

“COME ON EVERYBODY, YOU GOT THIS!” Lee hollers. “IF YOU CAN’T DO FIVE HUNDRED PUSH-UPS, THEN DO ONE THOUSAND SQUATS!”

“YES, SENSEI.” The students yell back, some landing on their feet so they can squat while others continue to push up on their hands. 

Neji clears his throat. “Yes, you have us, but I saw how you looked at her. When was the last time you went on a date? You used to love meeting new people.”

Lee’s lips slowly press together while he stares down at his feet; images of him chugging bottles of liquor, fucking nameless women, neglecting his dojo, and the painful numbness of it all flash before his eyes.

 “I… I was in a dark place.”

Neji turns to Lee and stops him, his eyes softening when he watches his friend blush in shame.

“You can still have healthy romantic and intimate relationships. Did Guy Sensei ever teach you to let your past determine your future? To let someone’s actions spoil your happiness for good?”

Lee’s round eyes wander back up in thought.

“Hmm, and yet he never let me live down the time I set his signature jumpsuit on fire trying to iron it out.”

Neji tried to smirk, but the hilariousness of that memory cracked his face with a reluctantly big smile.

“He was devastated.” Neji replies. “Wouldn't look at you until you made him another one -”

“And when he would look at me, he’d look at me like I hit a dog or some crap!” Lee guffaws, leaning his arm on his friend who shook with silent laughter.

“As I was saying.” Neji clears his throat once more. “Just give yourself a try. You might be glad you did it.”

Lee sighs again. 

“What are you, my guru or something?”

“Now, wouldn’t you like that?”

Both men chuckle at the thought.

-

It's 7:30, and you’re about to wrap up your final shift by preparing Ms. Fink for bed. You’re sitting beside her while she lies on a queen-sized mattress, monitoring her blood pressure while she’s sipping the milk you fetched for her. She lowers her cup with a grimace.

“My milk is cold.” She glares at the cuff tightening around her veiny arm. “If I drink it cold, then I can’t sleep. Go warm it up.”

Your eyes continue to scan the data for her vitals, the only thing giving away your disgust at her attitude is the subtle crease of your brows. You thank your ancestors for your professionalism because if you didn’t hold yourself to a higher standard, you’d tell her to go fuck her wrinkly face.

“I’ll do it right after I’m done recording your vitals for the night.”

You make sure to repress any natural vibrato in your tone that gives off irritation. Ms. Fink grunts an exasperated sigh, squeezing the chilled cup while frowning at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, child. I’ve just been so stressed lately and I haven’t been getting very good sleep. Don’t mind me, the TV will help doze me off.”

You gulp, taking note of the quiet static resonating from the television framed on the wall.

“Sure.” You mumble.

You deflate the blood pressure cuff and gently unwrap it from the patient’s arm, turning it off once all the important data is saved. You email Ms. Fink’s daily medical write-off to your supervisor, Brandon, and get your shit. You open the front door, but before you leave you turn to the old lady.

“If you need anything, press the red help button to your right. Brandon is on his way. Sleep well.”

You shut the door behind you and bounce.

As Ms. Fink carefully places her cup of milk on the nightstand, her eyes nearly bulge out of her sockets, lips quivering with spite as she stares at the door you exited from.

-

You open the door to the dojo and a bell jingles at your entrance. Some eyes land on you while others continue to focus on their preoccupations. Rock Lee whips his head at your entrance, excusing himself from Neji so he can approach you. He has to remind himself to not scramble and bump people out of his way just to get to you. You can’t help but lighten up at the eagerness that he doesn’t even bother to hide. When you're both face to face, your name tumbles from his lips as if he likes how it tastes when he says it; reciting it like a sacred poem. his personal way of greeting you.

“Hi.” You nearly squeak out, trying to compose yourself at seeing his effortlessly handsome smile up close.

You shrug off your coat and tuck your scarf in its sleeve, which reminds Lee of something.

“I have something for you.” He slightly raises his open palm to you, like he’s urging you not to move. “Can you stay right here for me?”

Every time he asks something of you, he’s so polite and dignified - it kinda scares you. There’s a fond sweetness in the deep timbre of his voice that he only uses on you. It feels like a spell he casts, one that you’re not immune to (yet). One that you’re not even sure he’s aware of.

“Y-Yeah, sure.” 

So you stand there, watching him jog to your office. You soon meet Neji’s gaze. He smiles at you, approaching you with a calculative stride. Once you recognize him, your jaw drops a bit and your eyes light up like bulbs.

“You’re the guy I patched up on my first day here!” you point at him childishly, like a toddler who notices their favorite show airing on TV.

Neji chuckles, “Yes, I am.”

“Gee, I ain't never seen no one fight like you before.”

“Thank you…”

Neji appreciated how you didn't try to compare him to his friend or any other fighter in particular.

“I see your wounds have fully healed,” you continue.

Neji nods. “And for that, I never got to properly thank you. You're one of the finest nurses I've ever had the pleasure of being treated by.”

“D’awww,” you coo as you stare at your shoes. “I try.”

“I’m Neji, by the way. I used to train here every day with Lee until I started pursuing careers of my own.”

“Y/n.” you chirp, offering your hand for a shake. “It's nice to finally meet you.”

He reciprocates with a gently firm hold, yelping when Lee nudges him out of the way to face you. Neji nudges him twice as hard and reclaims his position, side-eyeing him a glare that said “act like you got some damn sense”. You giggle at their dynamic, they reminded you of Shika and Temari.

Shika and Temari, huh?

“Here!”

You look down at Lee’s big hands, presenting you with a pair of lavender cotton slippers. They look so soft and pretty. You glance up at him, and he stares you down with eyes that are so expectant and pure.

“These are f’me?” You deadpan.

“I could see, sometimes, that you like light variants of purple. Plus the only thing protecting your feet from this god-awful floor,” he chuckles nervously, “are the socks you wear when you take off your shoes.”

You remain silent, staring back down at the gift.

“Plus you’ve done so much for us already, the least I could do is make sure you’re comfortable when you work.”

You could feel your chin tense up, threatening to quiver your bottom lip. You gently bite the plump flesh and kick your street shoes off. No one other than your own father has done something like this for you, let alone some man you’ve only known for a month. You reach for the slippers, but he reels them back.

“Allow me to put them on for you.”

Neji chortles at his gall, and usually you would too. But it’s happening to you. You nod meekly, sitting down on a chair behind you. He kneels soon after, subtly caressing the meat of your calf before gently lifting it. His fingers feel so good cradling your legs like this. The outline of your feet alone is enough to show him how pretty they are. He puts your slippers on seamlessly, not even noticing that all of his students stopped practicing just to watch him give you princess treatment.

You are so flattered by this act of kindness. It makes you want to grab his thin muscular waist and hold him tight. And yet something slithers within you. It's freezing, it's isolating. It's damp, it's convincing. It's threatening and paralyzing and -

“Thank you,” you mumble coldly. You clear your throat and reel your legs away from him, snatching your belongings. The students create a path for you to make your way to your office. Lee and Neji watch your retreating form with widened eyes; you looked so happy at the gesture and then… you didn't. 

Neji leans toward his sulking friend and whispers, “Wait till Sensei hears about this.”

Lee folds his arms protectively, raising a bushy brow at the thought.

It’s fear.

Your peripheral vision catches narrow lines of redness on someone’s face. You stop and track them; it's a teenage boy with a nasty scratch mark on his left cheek. 

Duty calls, you think.

The teen carefully watches you walk towards him at a moderate pace.

“Why don’t I clean up that wound on your face before you go back to training? Make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

The boy obviously has his guard up; balled fists and slightly raised shoulders. He kind of reminds you of your middle school days. But ultimately, he accepts your offer with a subtle nod and pads behind you to your office.

You hang your coat on the back of your desk chair.

“Have a seat.” You quip.

He ignores your order, simply scanning the details of your room. Accepting his defiance with a shrug- for you refuse to beef with a child- you kneel down to the cabinet below your counter and grab your first aid kit.

“I’m miss y/n. What’s your name?” To be honest, you were a fan of small talk. It helps you connect with people through the most awkward moments.

“…Sasuke.” The boy grumbled, refusing to look at you.

You put on some disposable nitrile gloves. “How long have you been training here, Sasuke?”

Sasuke leans back on the counter and unravels his fists, staring at the mood meter poster on the wall. 

“Three years.”

“Impressive!”

Sasuke’s eyes widen when he catches you getting closer to him, a damp cotton ball trapped between your fingers.

“Let me know when you’re ready.” Uneasiness radiates from his glare alone. “Just gonna clean the excess blood off first.”

The tiniest pout contorts his dry lips. “Fine,” he mumbles.

You start with cleaning the blood around the abrasion, gently rubbing the cotton against his messy skin.

“This is gonna sting,” you coo.

You throw away the used cotton swabs and pour a bit of antiseptic on a new one. You dab it directly on the open wound, and as expected, he winces at the pain.

What you didn’t expect was for him to grab your wrist and yank it away from his face.

Your first thought was to call him a stupid brat and demand he do it himself, but you remember that you’re like - a professional at this. So you take a deep breath and place your tool back on the counter.

“What can I do to make this easier for you?”

Sasuke side eyes you, finally paying attention to your frown of concern and slight frustration. Your voice is smooth and raspy and calming to his ears, which is not the response he wanted from you. But it’s not a response he dislikes either, which makes him feel bad for being difficult. So he huffs and reaches for the bag of cotton balls beside you, taking one out and soaking it with the antiseptic. He hands it to you while staring at the mood meter across from him.

“Jus’ wasn’t ready.” He mumbles apologetically.

You sigh with a small smile and accept the cotton. “Thank you, Sasuke.”

The young man endures the sharp pain of the cold, damp fabric brushing off dried blood and raw skin. But it all falters when you dispose of the swab. You reach inside the medical kit for a wooden applicator stick, and some Neosporin.

“Rough day?” You pry as you spurt some antibacterial ointment on the stick.

Sasuke shuts his eyes, shoulders sagging with an almost exasperated exhalation in an attempt to relieve some stress.

“Me too.” You continue, spreading the colorless cream on a wound dressing pad.

The boy fully faces you this time, a bit shocked that you perceived his body language as an answer in itself. Are you that desperate for conversation? He thinks. Or are you just good at reading people? 

“Hold still please.” You order gently.

 He obeys, and you successfully patch up his left cheek. 

“Here,” you hand him a few more pads. “For daily replacements.”

Sasuke stares at the gift for a few long seconds before shoving it in his pocket, and slightly bows his head with gratitude. He turns around and pads to the door.

Before opening it, he speaks up with a firmer tone, “Hope your day gets better.”

He closes the door behind him, making sure you don’t get the chance to respond. 

My day already is, you think - knowing damn well that boy wouldn’t have come to you for help had you not confronted him. And your medical skills never disappoint, you just love to heal.

-

The Mighty Rock Dojo approaches its closing; Lee rolls up the mats, Neji has already left and the final customer walks out of the door with a farewell. It’s just you and Lee now… nothing new.

Lee lets out a hearty sigh after placing all the mats in their respective areas. “Man, am I beat!”

His stomach growls, making him slouch a bit as he caresses it. “And hungry…”

You giggle at him. He revels in the sweet sound, approaching you to hear more of it.

“What's so funny?” he smirks.

“You,” you deadpan.

His tummy growls again, a bit more impatiently this time.

“…Let me take you home so I can eat.”

He talks like he’s gone tired of you, but you can hear the playfulness in his tone a mile away.

“Yeah okay,” you drawl with a shit-eating grin, stepping into your street shoes and shrugging on your coat.

The drive to your home is pretty peaceful; Miles of city lights illuminate your path, A '90s classic plays in the background as you watch Lee's strong hand gracefully work the steering wheel. He reminds you of your dad in the sense that he’s so quiet when he drives while your dad can’t go a day without cursing and honking at other cars in front of him. It makes you smile fondly.

“How was your day?” you ask.

Lee glances at his rearview mirror in thought.

“Busy… and fun. Yes! Busy and fun.”

When he approaches a red light, he turns to you. “How was your day, sweetheart?”

With the way he called you that pet name, you could listen to him speak for hours.

“Hard,” you reply as you slouch down your seat, Looking straight ahead as your plump glossy lips pout adorably.

Lee just can’t help but smile when looking at you - marveling at how the street lights reflect off your deep complexion. How your coils shine with the obvious care and maintenance you treat them with. How your gorgeous eyes sharpen with a dedicated focus for every patient you treat. how your round cheeks puff up when you smile at something you find funny. how your face softens when you actively listen to someone. your nursing uniform doesn’t do your body much justice, but he can still make up the curves and crevices that adorn it. He marvels at how your thick thighs and hips expand when you sit. how your fat pussy lips poke through the fabric of your pants when you bend down to pick something up.

He’d treat you so, so good. Better than any man… He’d treat you so good if you’d just-

The red light turns green, and his eyes reluctantly focus back on the road.

"What has been hard about your day?” He asks.

The gentle lilt of consideration in his tone makes you want to talk about that old hag, your empty box of a home, and the fact that you hate your mind and how it perceives you. You so badly want to share all your worries. But you just shake your head in despair.

“Doing what you love isn’t always… fun…” you drawl.

Lee hums in agreement, his index finger lightly tapping the steering wheel in thought.

“Well just know that you’re doing fantastic so far. I’m really proud of you, y/n. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

You process his words and lean your head back as you picture patting yourself on the back. “Thank you for that. And thanks for driving me home.”

“It's my pleasure.” he chuckles.

Lee finally pulls up in front of your apartment complex. You don’t notice the veins on his hands popping out as he tightens his grip on the wheel.

“Alrighty,” you sigh as you shift your weight to open the door.

“Uhh, y/n!” Lee grunts out. “Do you have a minute?”

You let go of the handle and turn to face him. You are giving him your full attention like he asked, and yet he feels his heart hitting his chest. However, His relationship with fear is pretty healthy, he’d like to think. Lee releases the steering wheel and folds his hands. He takes a deep breath. You brace yourself for any embarrassment.

“I like you. A lot. And I think you like me too.”

His voice is so painfully clear in the confines of his car, that you can’t even dissociate with any background noise if you tried. Every word was delivered with a confidence and sincerity so fierce, that it feels like a trap. You hate that it feels like some sort of trap.

“I think you like me so much, in fact, that you won’t even accept it. Like, there’s this fear you’re so desperately trying to hide from me. And I don’t know why.”

You don't blink. Your eyes sting terribly but you don’t blink.

“I know we’ve only known each other for a month. But I’ve always wanted you and I think you feel the same.”

Your eyes gloss over, and your lips descend in a frown. He’s well aware of that, but he’s not done.

“So please correct me if I’m wrong but if I’m not, I ask you this: Will you, miss y/n, go on a date with me?”

Somehow, you forget how it feels to breathe. Everything feels like it’s happening so fast but at just the right time. How is that possible? You would usually never feel that way. How is this possible? Why is your face wet with tears? Why do you feel your throat choking on a sob? Why does this man look at you like there is nothing else he would rather do than look at you? Your mind is so cold, why is he so warm? What is this heat blooming in your chest? Why aren’t these tears of despair? Why do you no longer feel like isolating in a dark room but still have the urge to run? Why are you thinking of Shikamaru? Why do the memories of y’all dating pop up in your head? Why now of all times?

Lee patiently waits for your answer, his face falling in  empathy at how quickly you wipe your face.

“You’re right, Lee.” You slur pathetically. “I adore everything about you… wanna be with you every day.”

You scoff, glaaring at a parked car in front of you before looking back at Lee. You clear your throat.

“But I’ve been heartbroken too many fucking times to think that even matters anymore.”

More tears fall down your face and you sniffle, no longer bothering to wipe them away. The man before you sighs, taking in your disheartening state.

“You’re right, it doesn’t.” Lee suggests, leaning closer to you because you smell that divine. “But it’s because you’ve got your heart broken so many fucking times, that the most grace you can give yourself is to appreciate the current joys of life.”

You pause to process his words, that was the first time he’s ever cussed in front of you. It sounded like silk and sin pouring straight from his mouth. His delivery is smooth and tender, but the truth of the message is set in stone.

“Y/n, I don’t like to lead my life with a broken heart and neither should you. Please test me, because not only will I pass with flying colors,” he hooks the bottom of your chin with a gentle finger, tilting it up so you can see the deadly determination in his big, wondrous eyes.

“I will make sure you forget every man who has had the luxury of having you and the utter gall to lose you.”

Your eyes widen, because what has this man gone through to be so bold? You wanna fuck him right here in his car like a whore’s rent is due. But alas, you’ve been celibate for years, so you squeeze your hands to restrain yourself from ravaging his lips with yours.

“So now I ask you,” he prompts, teasing your bottom lip with his thumb. “What are you going to do about it?”

You close your lids to ring out any stray tears, and take a shaky breath. Because one thing you will never do, no matter how much pain you have to endure, is not be responsible for your own happiness.

“F-Fine,” you nod your head frantically, voice cracking and warbling with more tears. “I’ll go on a date with you.”

Lee’s face lights up with a smile so blinding that your mouth quivers into a wobbly smile itself, almost forgetting the fierceness of his prior gaze. He’s infectious.

“Thank you for trusting me, beautiful.”

And that was the night Lee made a promise to himself: that he would do everything your exes failed to and more.

This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

Nirvana: A Rock Lee Tale (Chapter 2)

Summary: Your dating life is terrible. Your friends’ marriage is fantastic. Your career as a medic is doing great, though. But you aren’t happy. However, after one quick trip to the Mighty Rock Dojo, you stumble upon the most magnificent man you’ve ever met- the taijutsu master- Rock Lee.

Notes: slow burn fic, afab/fem/black reader.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, (light) descriptions of blood and violence, usage of the N word. The reader and Lee are in their 20s but virtually any age group that is 18 and up can enjoy this story. Again 18+, minors do not interact… pls.

Word count: 3.9k

Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You want someone to crave you, to need you. Not in a toxic codependent way, but rather in a way that makes you feel special. That’s why you escaped to the world of shoujo and action/fantasy films when you were a child, it was the closest you got to that feeling of truly falling for someone and being fallen for. Or at least it was the closest you got to being ignorant of how unlovable you felt. And when you grew into your late teens, you drowned your mind in fictional men.

You dream of someone who’d treat you like the queen you are deep down inside. You thought Sai could be that- hell- you thought every guy you dated could be that. But deep down you knew it was impossible, because you didn’t view them as special either. Not anymore, at least.. You are not afraid to live your life the way you want, and all the “love interests” in your past would never determine your future. You’d make sure of it.

To be honest, you’re thinking nothing of that at this very moment. How could you after talking to that hottie you met a week ago? You didn’t reach out to Lee until now due to long hours nursing at your local hospital; keeping track of a dozen medical plans, on top of a new patient assignment makes you feel like your phone burning up at 10%. Plus you love your job (despite how cruel the healthcare system can be), which makes working a bit easier.

You thank the universe for your fast work ethic; tirelessly taking care of people in the early mornings, and finally managing to have a solid break for once. As soon as you get to sit at your favorite cafe in peace, your mind wanders to that dojo you went to. Which struck your memory of getting Lee’s contact info. You usually only text people you’ve just met to test the chemistry, but something about his welcoming aura urges you to risk your pride. You call him, nibbling on your lip while waiting.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

Ri-

“This is the Mighty Rock Dojo.”

 The deep bass thrumming in his tone is hushed and calm. It sets your goosebumps aflame, making you sit up so you can speak at your clearest.

“Heyyyy, it’s y/n! I treated your friend last week.” You shut your eyes, not intending for your pitch to raise that high.

A smile slowly adorns his face at how cute you sound, and that you actually bothered to follow up with him.

“I remember exactly who you are, y/n! I’m glad to hear from you.”

Your eyes flicker to the wooden table you rest your arms on, gulping at his poise. Lee pads his way to his personal office, not wanting to disturb his students’ meditation break.

“Same here. I just wanted to…”

You pause to consider if your already full schedule could take a new hobby.

“…to know the entire schedule of your dojo so I can see what times are right for me.”

The taijutsu master leans on his front desk, free hand gripping its smooth edge.

“Yes of course! I’ll text you all the information after this call. There’s a flier here waiting for your return.”

“Heh, didn't mean to leave so soon last time.” Yes, you did. “Thanks, sensei.”

“Don’t sweat it. How's your week so far?”

A part of you considers going with the standard ‘it’s been okay’, but you’re at a point in your life where you hate lying to yourself- no matter how easy it is to do so.

“It’s been strenuous… I’m now on my first proper break in weeks.” 

You like how Lee hisses through his teeth in genuine concern. You wonder what other scenarios would cause him to make that sound.

“It’s no pressure if this may not be the best time for you-”

“No it’s fine- I mean I don’t wanna wipe someone’s ass and endure shitty behavior for the rest of my career. I want to heal people the way they’ve healed me.”

Lee chuckles briefly at your determination. You like how that sounds too. Everything about him you like so far and you've only talked twice, you could feel your skin crawling.

“And you will. How about you stop by after work? We close kind of late anyways.”

Your chest blooms at his support, body starting to feel lighter for some reason. You clear your throat.

“Today?”

“Today.” He confirms.

Lee twiddles with the hem of his Gi absentmindedly, waiting patiently for your response.

“Yeah, okay… s-see you after seven?”

“See you after seven.”

-

A few hours pass after thoroughly enjoying your burrito and latte with some Netflix. You’re now on your final shift, completing your hand-off for your colleague Brandon. He’s been overseeing you since you transferred to this hospital. It’s bigger and more advanced than you’re used to, so Brandon was the first to show you the ropes. It’s 6:54 as you email your finalized report to him, hearing the shrieking metal of wheels rolling closer to the office you reside in.

KNOCK KNOCK

“Come in.”

Spinning your chair to face the door, you find Brandon entering with an old lady sitting prim and proper on her wheelchair. Her small, veiny hands fold over her tummy, loose white locks framing the moles that scatter her wrinkly face. It’s like she was made to wear that throw blanket for a shawl.

“Oh? Who’s the lovely guest, Brandon?” You chirp as you rise from your seat, cringing inside at how your voice’s raspiness may’ve given away your exhaustion.

Your supervisor brings the senior closer to you for a better acquaintance.

“This lovely guest, until further notice, is your new patient: Ms. Fink.”

You sit on your haunches to meet her at eye level. You would offer your hand for a shake, but this is your first meet and you’re not 100% familiar with her medical conditions.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Fink. I’m y/n, and I can’t wait to help you on your road to recovery.”

Ms. Fink’s beady eyes scan your welcoming figure, enjoying the sight of you kneeling for her. She nods slowly with a subtle smile, which you take as a step in the right direction.

“Her family had just dropped her off here, so you’ll be overseeing her first thing next week. Did you send me the hand-off?”

You place your hands on your knees to stand up.

“Just emailed it before you came in.”

“Good, now go get some rest. And I’ll be taking you,” he looks down at Ms. Fink, “to your room. Say goodbye to your new nurse?”

The lady unfolds her hands to give you a wave before she’s turned around and escorted out.

“See ya later!” You wave back.

…you snatch your jacket, purse, and bounce.

-

It takes a few train stops and a bus ride to get to the dojo, which isn't bad. You’re just wondering how long it’d take to get back home. Opening the door, that familiar bell jingles at your entrance. You stand behind the front desk, face lighting up at the sight before you:

A group of toddlers are in basic horse stances, their fists positioned at their hips. Lee strolls languidly around his students, hands folded behind his back as he watches them like a hawk. He takes a deep breath.

“You want to unlock the first gate?” The way he asks is eerily calm.

“Yes, sensei!!” The kids shout.

“Then use your core. STRIKE!” He roars.

“HA!” The kids adorably return the enthusiasm, all simultaneously throwing a firm punch.

“STRIKE!”

“HA!!”

Your shoulders stiffen at how fierce Lee is, even with kids. ‘He really said it’s free eats’, you laugh to yourself.

“Everyone in a circle.” His hands echo a clap and the children scatter like critters to form a ring. He scans the kids, silently noting the ones who have yet to spar. He glances at a particularly frail child, who stares down at the belt she’s squeezing.

“Orchid, come.” He orders, tone stern but not harsh enough to scare her.

Orchid flinches anyway, her face falling at the fact that she’s been chosen. Hesitantly, she trots her way to the center where Lee is. The master side eyes another kid, noticing her rocking back and forth with a tight smile on her face. As if she’s trying to suppress her eagerness.

“Amanda, come.”

The child lights up, practically sprinting to her spot in front of Orchid. Lee kneels between the two, one hand on each shoulder.

“Trust what you have learned, and your body will do the rest.” 

“Yes, Sensei Lee!”

“Yes, sensei…”

Their master gives them a warm smile, before rising to take a step back. He raises his arm beside his head.

“Bow.”

The children lower their heads to pay respects, and take a few steps back to position into their preferred fighting stances: Amanda’s stance is more open, taking an offensive approach. Orchid’s is more defensive, balled fists guarding her face without blocking her eyesight. Everyone’s watching, even your own stare is glued to the students. Lee casts down his hand.

“BEGIN!”

Amanda charges at Orchid, aiming a hit right for her chin. Orchid uses her forearms to block the punch- hissing at the force- while trying not to get backed into the boundary, for if you touch anyone in the circle you lose. Amanda throws a barrage of kicks and jabs her way, yelling and grunting with every strike to intimidate. Her opponent continues to block her advances. As terrified as Orchid looks right now, she is deflecting her attacks pretty well, for each blow that comes her way she redirects with firm open palms. You aren’t too surprised, Lee’s a genius.

Amanda is cooking her shit though, the sharp sound of her punches giving away the damage she inflicts, and the other kids start to cheer her on as she steadily dominates Orchid. You divert your attention to Lee, and he’s watching the unfolding event with a stoic face. Some distance forms between the two fighters, and Amanda uses that to her advantage by vertical jumping in the air and raising her leg in an axe kick. 

Orchid’s eyes widen in horror but successfully dodges the kick that would’ve ended the fight. While Amanda’s feet are still bound to the ground, Orchid lowers her body and twirls her leg; planting a round-house kick straight to her opponent’s jaw. Amanda’s back hits the matted floor at the force. She groans petulantly, stunned at how easily she fell for that move.

“The winner,” Sensei Lee casts a hand in Orchid’s direction, “is Orchid!”

A loud silence envelopes the room for a moment before everyone applauds Orchid’s bravery and skill, you even add in a little “woop woop” to boost morale. She was going to offer a hand to help Amanda get up, but she yelps at a dense pain coursing through her left ankle- the one she leaned on to perform that roundhouse kick. Orchid drops to the floor, holding her calf to make sure no unnecessary pressure adds to it. Lee rushes to her side.

“Orchid, what’s wrong?” Caution and worry furrow his bushy eyebrows as he descends beside her to scan for problems.

“It..it hurts,” she whimpers.

Andddd that’s your cue. You hurriedly kick off your sneakers, politely excusing yourself when walking through the wall of kids. Lee’s head snaps up at your figure and beams with a quiet sigh of relief.

“My name’s miss y/n, I’m the dojo’s new nurse. Can you tell me what hurts, sweetheart?” You coo, placing a safe hand on her small back. She physically relaxes at the gesture.

“M-My ankle. It hurts.” Your eyes never left hers, nodding your head to show that you’re listening to every word.

“Hmm, I think you might’ve sprained it, Orchid.” You raise your head to look at Lee.

 “Sensei, do you have strong bandages and some Icy Hot?”

“Uhhh- mhm!” Lee gulps, blushing at you calling him sensei. Even though that’s what he told you he preferred, he is a bit stupefied at your effortless professionalism and charm. You look back down at Orchid.

“Can I carry you to my office?” Your office, huh? “Don’t wanna worsen your sprain, now do we?”

Orchid slowly nods her head, eyes widening at how validating you are. You carefully hook one arm under her knees, and hook the other under her back,  inwardly swooning at her visibly melting in your hold. Making your way to your office, you find Lee with a roll of elastic bandages in one hand and a plastic jar of Icy Hot in the other.

“Makin’ sure I’m prepared, sensei?” You tease, and Lee chuckles at your implication.

“It’d be unacceptable if you weren’t.”

You gently place Orchid on the thin mattress, watching her feet dangle off the bed. You turn to face Lee, who's already staring at you.

“Thank you. I’m sure there are a bunch of toddlers waiting for you out there.”

“O-Oh… right!” Lee places the requested materials on a small table next to you. Lee kneels down in front of Orchid, meeting her at eye level.

“I’m gonna call your mother so you can get home safely, okay Orchid?”

“Y-Yes, sensei.”

Lee now locks his eyes on yours.

“And if you need anything else, there’s more equipment in the cabinets for you.”

Despite him looking up at you, his gaze makes you feel small- leaves you wanting to do everything he tells you to.

“Yes, sensei!”

Lee nods his head and stands up, heading to the front desk’s telephone by the dojo. He orders the kids to sit and meditate in silence while he punches in Orchid’s mom’s number. Lee sighs, wondering if this is how Might Guy felt when he was training kids here: happy that he can care for them and make them stronger, but also somber, knowing that they won’t be cute little rascals forever.

You put on disposable nitrile gloves and open the plastic jar of Icy Hot. Orchid stares at the blue concoction.

“S’that? It smells minty.” She asks meekly.

“This, my dear, is Icy Hot,” you dip your fingers in the product. “It helps with muscle and joint pain. The strong smell comes from menthol.”

Orchid winces when you lather the cream on her ankle.

“It’s cold!” She squeaks. You giggle at her cuteness.

“I know, but it’ll get warmer in a few minutes.”

You steadily wrap the bandage securely around her aching limb, telling her to warn you if it’s too tight. 

“You did really well out there, Orchid.” You prompt as a matter—of—factly while disposing of your nitrile gloves.

“…you think so?”

“Know so!” You sit beside her and smile at her pouty face. “You kept fighting, even when the odds of you winning looked slim.”

She hugs your arm, the most comfortable way of showing her gratitude, and confirms that you’ve done your job well. You caress her hair as she holds you, and tell her not to move until her mom arrives.

-

A couple more hours pass, and luckily no more students have to visit your office. You spend the rest of your time there watching Lee and other fighters train rigorously, and others slack off, as you would expect. The dojo finally concludes its classes for the day. It’s half past 10, and you are itching to get home. Well- not until you’ve concluded your day with Lee, of course. You walk up on the sensei rolling up his mats and carrying them to their respective areas.

“You were so badass today,” you quip. “As per usual.”

You kinda felt like a loser for dick riding, but you mean it and he deserves to know.

“Thanks! I could say the same for you myself, miss y/n.” You grip the back of your neck at his teasing as he approaches you with a smirk.

“Thank you. Anddddd especially that stance you taught your students! How long does it usually take to master? Does it hurt? How do they get so still?” 

You rambling on about your interest in the martial art blooms Lee’s chest open. It’s like you’re unlocking a new level of fondness that he harbors just for you.

“Would you like me to show you?”

Your voice dies in your throat.

Huh?

“I-I mean you can try,” you laugh sheepishly. “I’m a beginner’s beginner. Sooo-“

“Okay!” He chirps, taking one step closer to you. “Can I guide your movements?”

“Mhm!” you chirp, thinking nothing of it. Lee raises a brow at you, expecting a proper response.

“… I mean yes! Yes, Sensei Lee.” The master hums in satisfaction. You think of crawling into a hole.

“Turn your hands into fists.”

You ball your fingers, thumbs caging your encased knuckles.

“Good. Now place your left fist by your hip… uhuh. Extend your right arm in front of you, like a punch, and keep your fist.”

You raise your arm up, feeling like you have a good idea of how to enact this stance when he nods his head in encouragement.

“Now, spread your feet.”

You look down at your legs and create space between them.

“Wider.” He commands. You spread them a little more.

“Wider… good, remember that they must be 3 feet apart.”

You’d be lying if you say you don’t feel the burn, it's been a long time since you've physically pushed yourself like this. But you trust the process.

“Now bend your knees… lower.” His face is unreadable, the way he speaks is cold and direct- but never with disdain. Your body freezes in horror at how hot it is to you.

Lee walks around you, like a vulture circling its prey, and you don’t dare move until he says so. You can’t see what he’s doing until you jolt at the way he gently clutches your hips. His touch shocks every nerve in your body, making you tense up and soften all at once. His bandaged fingers are long and slender; you know they’re deadly weapons and yet his grip on you coaxes your muscles to mold at his will. He leans in until his chin hovers over your shoulder, catching a whiff of your coils up close; shea butter and vanilla. It’s dizzying how sweet and inviting you smell.

“Lower, miss y/n.” His deep tone rasping right beside your ear has you shivering, and the way he slowly pushes you down with his hands until you are at the ideal altitude strikes lightning in your tummy. He releases you and takes a step back, admiring his current direction.

“There. You’re now in a semi-decent horse stance!” He quips, arms folding in triumph.

You scoff at his sarcasm. Is this nigga serious? You think.

Am I even serious? Maybe he was doing it purely out of instruction as he asked. I consented. I liked it- no- I was delighted. And yet… Why do I feel… such crippling fear? This silent voice in my head is telling me to detest this. To detest him.

…To detest me…

Lee’s bubbly grin sinks as he watches your face contort into a small scowl, a thousand-yard stare giving away your brief dissociation. You don’t move from the position he taught you. His arms unfold as he pads closer to face you. 

“Y/n?” Despite his low tone, the way he says your name is light as a feather. He feels that if he speaks any louder for some reason, you’ll react like a wine glass at the mercy of a soprano’s highest frequency. Your eyes widen in focus at his gentle call. You see the space between his brows crinkling at how disturbed you looked, the sight deepens your frown.

Lee balls his fists and lowers his head; he absolutely hates doing things that come at the expense of others’ safety. He himself is painfully familiar with how easily traumatic mundane activities can become.

“I’m sorry- I should've been more attentive,” he whispers almost desperately. “I tend to get really invested in the craft, y’know?” You shot up from your stance before you knew it.

“No, no, don’t be sorry!” You croak. Lee tilts his eyes up a little to peek at the look on your face- which now mirrors his.

“I just… just wasn't used to it, that's all.” The somber sultriness of your voice soothes his worries swimming within. “You did everything right, I felt- feel- like you're someone I could trust. So thank you, sensei… for helping me perform a semi-decent horse stance.” You don’t trust him completely, but he was checking every box in your list so far.

Lee’s chest quakes with a chuckle at your wit, deciding that he’s gonna earn your trust one way or another. He rests his hands on his hips to celebrate the eroding tension. Your teeth tug at your bottom lip to celebrate that smile you love returning to his handsome face.

“I’m always here to help!” He practically sings. “Adult novice classes are $45 a month.”

You roll your eyes at his not-so-slick marketing tactic, retreating to your shoes and other belongings. Lee snorts at your sass, following after you.

“Oh! Here’s your flyer by the way.” 

You turn your heel while sliding your arms through the sleeves of your jacket, and find Lee handing you a paper handout containing the weekly schedule and any other important dojo intel.

“Ah, thanks,” you flip through the small pamphlet before shoving it in your pocket. Lee looks at his phone to check the time..

“You go home on your own, I assume?” Lee quips while raising a brow.

You hook the handle of your purse over your shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you sigh tiredly. “Can't afford a car right now so public transit is my go-to.”

Lee sways his body from side to side, feigning deep thought as he shifts his weight on each foot.

“It's almost 11, and I have a car. How ‘bout I drive you home?”

…

…Welp, you have a taser in your bag if things go south.

“I would… I'd like that… Thanks.”

Lee nods gleefully, feeling like you’re giving him another shot. “Gimme twenty minutes, ‘kay?”

You give him a thumbs up, “I’ll text you my address.”

-

In around fifteen minutes, Lee locks up the dojo and walks you to his car. Your eyes light up; acutely impressed at the sleek coat of silver, tinted windows, and wide headlights.

“Didn’t take you for a BMW typa guy.”

Lee smirks as he opens the door for you to get in. After you thank him and sit comfortably in the passenger seat, he lowers his body to level with yours, one hand resting on his knee while the other holds his car door open. His bold stare is somehow intensified by the nonchalant raise of his brows.

“I'd love to know what else you don’t take me for.”

Amusement laces his lowered tone, making you ignore the small wet patch in your panties that's been growing since his… his little lesson. He doesn't wait for your response, rising back up with a deep inhale. After shutting the door, he strides to his side of the car.

Oh, fuck me.

This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

Nirvana: A Rock Lee Tale (Chapter 1)

Summary: Your dating life is terrible. Your friends’ marriage is fantastic. Your career as a medic was doing great, though. But you aren’t that happy. However, after one quick trip to the Mighty Rock Dojo, you stumble upon the most magnificent man you’ve ever met- the taijutsu master- Rock Lee.

Notes: slow burn fic, afab/fem/black chubby reader.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, (light) descriptions of blood and violence. Usage of the N word. The reader and Lee are in their late 20s but virtually any age group that is 18 and up can enjoy this story. Again 18+, minors do not interact… pls.

Word count: 2.6k

Masterlist

Next Chapter

You are lonely. So lonely.

Your friends tell you that you’re young and shouldn’t chase and should wait for the right person and should focus on yourself and all that jazz. But there is nothing else you can do but wait; your career as a medic is finally blossoming beyond your imagination, you’re taking care of yourself as best you can, yet dating apps are full of people you aren’t attracted to. And the ones who did interest you either don’t hit you up or stop engaging.

You feel worthless sometimes, like no matter how beautiful or poised you come off, that one person who you dream of spoiling and loving you is only that- a dream. You always feel like you'll never be fully appreciated. You know you deserve someone who takes care of you, but no matter how painful it is you always keep pushing. You never have time to drown in self-pity. At the end of the day, people still love and support you. That’s why you went on a date with some guy Temari and her husband, Shikamaru, put you on.

You always envied their relationship; they’ve been going strong since college, watching them grow and evolve as they fall deeper in love with each other. It’d make you quietly turn away and scowl every time they’d hold hands or smile into their kisses. Your date’s name is Sai. You went out a couple of times beforehand, and actually enjoyed his time; he was a smooth talker with a serene vibe who allowed you to be the corny goofball you are when comfortable. Especially when he’d crack deadpan jokes and tease you. The conversations you had held weight and authenticity.

Y’all are on your third date, walking the night streets of the city while eating rolled ice cream. The stroll is silent but tolerable, ignoring the fact that Sai hadn’t talked much throughout the day.

"Did you enjoy our date?" Sai quips, eyebrows rising inquisitively.

You swallow the melting treat and nod your head.

"Yup!" You lie. "What about you?"

Sai looks down at the remnants of ice cream in his cup before stopping in his tracks.

“Y/n, I think you’re really cool,” he prompts.

Fuck me, you think.

"But I don't see us being any more than good friends. I don't feel any excitement when I'm with you. Plus, my ex and I wanna get back together so... Yeah."

While nodding spitefully, your plump lips press together in a tight line.

"Goodbye, Sai." You turn around and walk the opposite direction.

"Should I get you an uber?" He calls out.

You simply wave your hand without looking back. You’re glad you didn’t fuck him anyways, since you already learned the hard way of fooling around while easily susceptible to attachment. That's how you got your heart broken. And you've healed, still healing, but trust is earned. And your time requires effort now.

You shut your apartment door with a foot and lock it before kicking off your heels. Tossing your keys on the living room table, you pad your way to the nearest couch and plop your face on the mattress.

Your eyes sting at the despair of it all, wondering if this love shit is only magical for some. You bring your vibrating phone closer to your face, only to see that it's Shikamaru. You sigh in contemplation, glaring at the TV across from you before reluctantly answering the call.

"Heyyy." Your voice drawls out in a feeble attempt at sounding happy.

"How was your date?" He sounds groggy, like he just woke up from one of his daily naps.

You gulp, eyes widening in shame. "It was - uhhh.”

You hear shuffling on your friend's end, waiting patiently for your response as he opens his refrigerator for snacks.

"Do you think I'm boring?" You whisper, as if you’re unraveling this big secret.

The noise ceases on the other side.

"He dropped you, didn't he?" He deadpans.

Your silence is all the answer he needs.

Shikamaru scoffs. "Fuck him. Don't let some dude you only met 3 times ruin the rest of your week.

"Mhmm." You hear people say that all too often for your liking.

"He said I didn't excite him. Whatever the hell that means."

"That's really a drag, y/n. I'm sorry it didn't work out for you. But you're not boring at all, it's his loss. Not yours.”

You curl up in a ball and stare at your TV screen, listening to your friend unwrapping a candy bar.

"Hey listen," he takes a bite from the frozen chocolate.

“Instead of sulking in your dark little hole till you find another date, how about you come with Mari and me to meet a good friend?"

"Whoring me out again are we?"

"Damn, was it that obvious?" He sighs tiredly at your lewd sarcasm.

“Anyway, he runs a dojo that his sensei founded. Called the Mighty Rock Dojo."

"Stupid name." You comment petulantly.

"Yeah I know." He snorts. "We'll pick you up at ten am if you want, a change in scenery could help with your... perspective on life."

"S'okay, you can say I’m depressed.”

“Yeah, well I think this could help, even a little bit. Didn't you always watch those Bruce Lee movies when you were a kid? Rush Hour? The Karate Kid?"

“Yeah but-“

"This could unlock good memories for you. Make you feel like you belong?"

"I don't fight though," you reason.

"No need. Just watch."

Your eyebrows furrow in deep worry. While his offer is tempting, you do not see how attending a dojo can fix your love life. Maybe you could just use some innocent excitement for once.

"Alright, alright." You whine, cursing your schedule for making you free tomorrow. “Ten am you said?"

"That's my girl,” You side eye your phone: he hasn’t called you that since y’all broke up. “And yes, we'll pick you up at ten. Now go to sleep.”

After he angs up, you set your timer on your phone and toss it on the table beside you.

-

You are not a morning person; eyes burning from fresh sleep as you ponder whether you should fling your roaring alarm across your wall. You don’t really know what to wear at a dojo, so you decide on more casual clothing for the day. When you feel like you're all caught up on your morning routine, notifications of Temari texting you to come downstairs pop up on your phone.

You greet the couple as you enter their jeep and sit in the back, enjoying the faint aroma of cinnamon in the air.

"You ready to see some sick ass-whooping?" Temari snarls.

"You know it, girl." You snigger. She is a breath of fresh air, you’re beyond grateful for people who are more unserious than you at times.

The ride is peaceful; sun rays dancing through the windows, a lofi playlist tuning in the background to set a nice vibe. You'd doze off if you weren't getting eager to see what this dojo's all about.

"So Pineapple, who is this friend of yours?"

"Rock Lee." Shikamaru grumbles while staring ahead, spiky ponytail peaking above the headrest. You call him "pineapple” when you're feeling goofy, and he hates that his wife picked up that foolish nickname on him soon after.

“He's been the master of the dojo ever since his sensei, Might Guy, retired 5 years ago," Temari adds.

You hum in acknowledgment. At the time of arrival, your eyes droop a bit at how... unimpressive the outside looks. Very bland letters that spell out the text of the establishment's name. you wouldn't consider it a dojo without the word dojo being on the big sign. You groan in pending boredom.

A ceiling bell jingles as you enter, the first step inside the dojo and your face is smothered with the pungency of feet. Usually, you would turn right back around with a cringe and escape such an aggressive odor, but the man before you makes it exceptionally difficult to look away:

Beads of sweat decorate the contours of his neck and chest. An impeccable horse stance coils his body like a spring; perfect posture, plump ass sitting in a squat that shows the subtle bulge of his thighs through the fabric of his Gi; knees spread apart and each one bent at a 90 degree angle; left arm firmly folded behind his back while the other has his front palm facing him, slender fingers pointing up and pressed together like a blade. His hands and wrists are wrapped in white bandages that you assume would help secure the worn skin beneath. He’s in the midst of a match; his intense, unblinking gaze holding both his opponent and the onlookers in rapt attention. Every move is a display of disciplined grace and raw physical power. Every strike, every dodge, every block- they all hold tactical precision unlike any other. It's why he never took a single blow.

You don't look away, leaning closer to Shikamaru.

"What technique is he using?" You mumble in fascination.

Your friend chuckles, sighing quietly after.

"Taijutsu. An ancient martial art that his sensei put on the map a few decades back. Last time I checked, this'll be Lee's 40th beaten opponent this week."

"Well damn." You grunt.

But how unexpected was it? He looks like an ancient warrior, like he loves what he’s doing. So much so, that the physical agony seems a necessity for his strength. That's why a dozen surround him in awe of his mastery.

The atmosphere is electric, growing anticipation of how this battle will end thickens the air. Lee's opponent is bruised up, battered figure wobbling side to side just to cope with the damage already done to him. All Lee has to do is wait a few moments, not moving an inch until he watches him fall to his knees, and collapse on the matted floor. The victor blinks a couple of times with a deep inhale, you can hear the timbre of his voice when he releases his breath.

"Heh. Some things never change," Temari scoffs with a knowing smile.

Relaxing his arms at the applauding crowd, Lee stands straight and bows to his beaten contestant, whispering a “thank you” for showing his dedication and strength: Lee slowly grabs his arm and hooks it over his shoulder to help lift his body, walking him to a nursing room in the back of the dojo so he can tend to his injuries. An idea pops into your head, kicking off your street shoes to trot past the crowd and follow them. You decide that since you're a medical professional, you'd assist the fighter in his hospitality. You get steadily closer until you find him looking in the cabinets for certain remedies.

"Got antiseptic with cotton balls?"

Lee jolts to face you while still crouched under the counter, hitting his head against the hard surface.

Your hand covers your mouth in mortification.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"Don't worry, my friend!" He chuckles sheepishly while rubbing the back of his head. "Just didn't expect anyone to come in yet, haha!"

You smile at his reassurance, not expecting the depth of his voice; a low bass overshadowed by whimsical friendliness every time he speaks.

"Ahh okay. Still have any antiseptic with cotton balls?"

"Oh, yeah! Need some?"

"No, but your friend does.”

Lee lowers his hand, turning his head to the man who lay on a thin mattress, and turns back to look at you.

"You want to help him?"

"Mhm!" You chirp, digging in your bag for your wallet to show him your license. Lee raises his hands up at your insistence.

"Y-You don't need to prove yourself to me! I appreciate the help. His eyes crinkle shut with a toothy smile.

You were thinking of ways to make it falter, like caressing the area where his neck and jaw meet or brushing your thumb along his bushy eyebrows. You could see how strong he is, and you want to feel it this time. You've never considered his textbook features attractive, but he makes them look too endearing to dislike.

After swiping a bag full of cotton from the upper cabinet, Lee notions you to come closer with a wave.

Walking to stand beside him, you analyze the man's wounds. Gently pressing your fingers throughout his body, you fail to spot any alarmingly tender areas.

Lee hands you a cotton swab with a bottle of antiseptic.

"Nun too serious." You murmur while squirting the solution on the cotton. "He'll be fine.”

He nods with a hum, watching you gently dab the damp material on the fighter's bloodied face.

"What's his name?"

"Neji. We've known each other since childhood."

There was a lilt of fondness in Lee's tone when regarding the man you're patching up.

Neji winces when you clean a certain cut above his eyebrow, making you pause with caution.

"Oop, sorry Neji. I'm almost done," You coo.

Lee watches in awe at how graceful and precise your movements are when treating his friend, the subtle focus in your stare as you put your training to use impresses him even more. He couldn't be that delicate with someone if he tried. He clears his throat.

"H-How did you learn about the dojo?"

You look up in quick thought before flickering your eyes down to the task at hand.

"The Naras brought me here."

Lee's eyes glow up like light bulbs.

"Shika knows you?!"

You snort at the cute nickname.

"Yeah. We've been friends since high school. Him and Temari think this place would be a... more cathartic way to spend my time."

You appreciate the couple for thinking of you, really. But it's still kind of embarrassing that they know how much of a loner you are. Lee places a hand on his hip while the other rubs his chin, eyes closing to reminisce about a familiar time in his life.

"Ahh, I remember when I had nothing better to do than work at the dojo. It got so bad that Shika stepped in to show me a more casual way of life. I didn't stop wearing my sense's hand-me-downs till last year!"

You giggle at how open he is to someone he just met. Lee didn't expect your sultry voice to allure him so easily when you laughed. He wants to make you do it again.

*Yeah," you agree. *He's like a dad friend."

"He IS a dad friend."

Both laughing heartily in unison, you wrap up Neji's treatment and return all the equipment you used.

"All he needs is a few day's rest and he'll be good as new." You look down at Neji who's sound asleep, sighing in pride at your handiwork.

"My name is Rock Lee, but I'd like it if you called me Sensei Lee. What's yours?"

"Y/n. It's nice to meet you, Sensei."

You love the way he looks down at you with those big round eyes. His grin is calm, radiating silent confidence.

"You'd be a great addition to our dojo, y/n.” You love the way your name rolls off his tongue. But your skin crawls at what that might say about you.

"You think so?"

"Know so! Every time I patch up my students, they say I'm too rough. But you're obviously a pro.”

You quietly scoff in shyness, the thought of being a nurse for a bunch of fighters never passed your mind till now. Lee blinks a few times in concern.

"I can pay you, if that's the issue."

You shake your head abruptly, "I already have a well-paying job. Plus I couldn't do my best if it's only for the money."

”Yes, of course."

He is too good at eye contact and manners. You beg yourself to act right.

"I'll think about it,” you conclude. “What's your number for the meantime?"

After he gives you his phone, you bid each other farewell. When you reunite with the Nara's you tell them everything that went down in the nursing room.

Shikamaru smirks knowingly, turning towards his car.

“I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Anyways, I want brunch."

"Meals are on me for introducing a new hobby!"

"This is why we love y/n."

"Don't get used to it," you warn playfully.

This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

The wink made me do it 😔

no one's the new me

Summary: Soldier Boy is the OG Supe. You goad him into proving it and get more than you bargained for...or did you?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

A/N: All unbeta'd. Thank you to @rieleatiel for the pre-read!

Warnings: smut; rough sex; language; implied breeding kink

Word Count: 846

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Soldier Boy Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith; @muhahaha303; @just-levyy; @solacedthistest; @deansimpala; @foxyjwls007; @onlyangel-444

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

Strong hands tugged on your hair, forcing your head back and your body to arch, accommodating the brute force you were being fucked with. You could feel the aggression, the rage, that was being unleashed on you in response to your taunts earlier. Your words had been purposeful; you knew they would rile him up enough to throw caution to the wind and show you how wrong you were. It had been nearly three hours since he began teaching you to “respect your fucking elders.”

Your throat was sore, your ass bruised from hips brutally slamming into yours — plus you actually got spanked near the beginning because you were being a fucking brat — and your pussy was on fire. At least five orgasms had been out of your body so far, a new personal record for you, and yet you wouldn’t dream of stopping. Though you knew the man savagely pistoning in and out of you would, the second you said it. 

That was just another thing that drew your desire to him the second he stepped out of that tube back in Russia: the control. You’d watched in fascination as he let loose a burst of energy that knocked The Female on her ass, yet you later found out she’d been fortunate after that same energy took out city blocks and one old, washed up, backstabbing Crimson Cunt. The minute you saw him emerge from the smoking wreckage of her trailer, his suit and shield completely intact, you knew he was so much more than a weapon for Butcher and his merry band of idiots to wield against Homelander.

He was the embodiment of raw power, a purity from being the first ever Supe mixed with whatever cocktail the Russians had given him.

You certainly could feel that power, the might and god-like strength that the body slamming into yours contained. If you weren’t experiencing the best fuck of your life right then, your eyes would have rolled back into your head and you would have orgasmed from the heady knowledge of that alone. 

“Say it,” was growled menacingly into your ear.

You pressed your lips together to keep quiet. You knew that would only stoke the rage but that didn’t matter.

Fingers roughly gripped your chin and turned you to face the dark emerald gaze burning into yours, fury written all over his features. He stopped fucking you for a moment, only to deliver deep and harsh thrusts, his expression tightening with more anger the longer you refused to give in to his demand. You could feel your body starting to act of its own accord, the excitement rushing through you as fiery tingles began deep inside you, right near where he had been pummeling you a moment ago as a matter of fact. “Say it,” he commanded once more in a snarl.

The tingles radiated throughout your pelvic region and you started to feel a wave of sensations getting closer and closer to overwhelming every single inch of you. You reached up to grip his wrist, holding on tightly as your body began to shake. 

He was merciless, though. He wanted you to have learned your lesson. “Fucking say it.”

“No one…” You struggled to get out the words, to keep eye contact even; the feelings overtaking your body were that intense. You let out an exhalation of a sound you had never made before. “No one’s the new you,” you panted, your jaw dropping in a silent cry as that wave became like wildfire, consuming you rapidly, your fingers finding purchase in his forearm.

A shark-like smile slowly spread across Soldier Boy’s face as he watched you alternate between squirming and tensing up. “That’s right. And don’t you fucking forget it.”

You could see that he was about to resume pounding into you and once he did, you would be lost to the intensity of the orgasm that was quickly coming to claim you. A scream was about to tear out of your chest when he pushed in deeply one last time, him clearly enjoying that he had you on that edge, about to go over it, and deciding to be a dick about it. So you managed to grab his face, forcing him to meet your eyes, and quickly said what you’d been waiting to tell him ever since you saw him in that fucking suit, wielding that big ass shield which served as more of a weapon than protection. “Except the son you’re going to fuck into me tonight.”

His smirk dropped and the burning emerald was back, possibly more ablaze than before, and his grip tightened on you almost to the point of pain. If you weren’t in the throes of the most mind-numbing orgasm of your life right then, you would have given him your own smirk, knowing exactly what was about to follow. You thought he had unleashed on you before, but once again, he was intent on showing you just how wrong you were. You had never been happier to be mistaken twice in one night.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

Please have heart and do not skip!

Donations urgently needed.

Nader and his family are nearly reaching half of their goal, and we need as much help as possible!

This fundraiser is vetted by @gazavetters, number four on the spreadsheet here

They're not asking for much, just €10 should suffice!

By donating, you are not only helping Nader, but you are saving him and his family.

We have managed to raise €12000 since the beginning of our campaign, and as with any other Palestinian who are fighting for their lives against the oppressors, I do not wish for Nader and his family to succumb to the murderous regime. Please, together we can raise enough so that they can afford for basic necessities as well as for them to be able to escape through the border crossing, once it opens.

We have already dealt with Zionists who attempted to compromise the campaign due to their own vendetta against the Ghazzans, and thanks to you all, we've successfully fough back and won, proving the veracity of this campaign. Please, do not back down. We need everything we can muster to help Nader and his family.

It's only gonna get harder now that UNRWA has been banned in the Settler state. Let's fight this battle together!

Tag list:

@90-ghost @heritageposts @gazavetters @neechees @butchniqabi @fluoresensitive @khanger @autisticmudkip @beserkerjewel @furiousfinnstan @xinakwans @batekush @appsa @nerdyqueerr @butchsunsetshimmer @biconicfinn @stopmotionguy @willgrahamscock @strangeauthor @bryoria @shesnake @legallybrunettedotcom @lautakwah @sovietunion @evillesbianvillain @antibioware @akajustmerry @dizzymoods @ree-duh @neptunerings @explosionshark @dlxxv-vetted-donations @vague-humanoid @buttercuparry @sayruq @malcriada @sar-soor @northgazaupdates2 @feluka @dirhwangdaseul @jdon @ibtisams @sawasawako @memingursa @schoolhater @toesuckingoctober @waskuyecaozu @lapithae @ryo-yamada @opencommunion @el-shab-hussein @feluka @paper-mario-wiki

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

reblog if you dont have a bra on

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

quick reminder that my own gay ass genuinely supports the hell outta each and every one of you. regardless if i know you or not, im happy to be living in this shithole of a life in the same world with you.

and im proud of you, i know in my heart just how beautiful, amazing, talented, smart, and worthy you are and i hope you can see that too🏳️‍🌈🌈

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

today is not my birthday

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

Please, reblog! IIt’s called self defense. Apart from having here, in the US, one of the highest cases of homicide and rape in the world and high rate of GBV, think about how this could help your mother or sister

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

The urge to write a Wolverine smut but not knowing how to write him 😭

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

Thinking about Old!Billy Butcher.

You're doing such a Good job, babe." He says, his two fingers deep inside of you

"Common' use your words babe.” He says while you're moaning and trembling against the tip of his cock.

"Oh baby don't cry it's only halfway through.” He says as tears start falling of your eyes too overwhelmed to speak.

"You want to cum uh? You want mean ol' Billy to make you cum?” He says after denying your orgasms more times than you can count.

"Fuck love, it's like you were made for this.” He says spilling his cum so deep inside you.

"My little girl filled with my cum."

[iwouldfightforfrenchie]

real