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[leaderwonim]

❀﹐𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis: in which married couple park sunghoon and park y/n are on their way to court to divorce when they suddenly get into a car crash, losing their memories entirely. over time, they start to fall inlove with each other all over again.

genre: angst, exes to lovers + strangers to lovers (ynhoon are soulmates your honor!!) fluff

“You are the most immature person I have ever met!” You shout, “I should’ve never married you in the first place!”

“Finally, something we can both agree on.” Sunghoon seethes, and you just know the taxi driver is uncomfortable by the way he’s awkwardly looking in the car mirror.

The both of you crossed your arms stubbornly, huffing like little children who just threw a tantrum.

The only reason why you and Sunghoon were getting a divorce in the first place was because he was so busy at his office, inheriting the CEO position from his father just months earlier.

You felt lonely, and it really didn’t help that Sunghoon didn’t give you any reassurance because he was too tired.

“Aish, why is this red light taking so long?” Sunghoon angrily mumbles underneath his breath.

“Well maybe it’s your negative energy.”

“Can you be mature once in your life?” Sunghoon snaps back.

The taxi driver, very annoyed with the both of you, continues driving when the light turns green.

Then all of a sudden, a car rams through the intersection, crashing directly into the taxi.

You scream, and Sunghoon instantly puts his arms around your frame, shielding you.

Then, all goes black.

For a second, you could see the day that you and Sunghoon got married.

It was a Sunday, at the beautiful church nearby Sunghoon’s parents house, and you were wearing what Sunghoon called the most beautiful dress he’d ever seen. It was plain white, but long and so beautifully designed that it didn’t need any other colors.

When you arrived at the altar, Sunghoon had bursted into tears. Some of his friends, Jake, who had traveled all the way from Australia to attend, patted the boy on back as comfort.

That day was nonetheless the happiest day of your life. You don’t know if Sunghoon feels the same, and looking back, it feels like such a shame that you’re throwing it all down the drain.

❀﹐

BLEEP. BLEEP.

Your body jolts awake, head practically killing you with the amount of ache it produced as you tried to sit up.

“Patient is up!” The nurse says before walking into your room with a tray. “Good morning, are you feeling okay?”

You raise your hands to touch your head, which was bandaged by some soft tissue material.

“Where am I?” You say, looking around the room. You spot a unknown man groggily getting up, and for a second, you can’t help but notice how handsome he was.

That was besides the point, though.

“You’re in the hospital.” The nurse says, smiling softly. “Do you remember the events leading up to this?”

“I.. I don’t remember anything, actually.”

The nurse still smiles at you reassuringly. “It’s alright lovebug, it seems as though you two have lost your memories.”

“Us two?” You question.

“Yes.” She points to the guy on the other bed right next to you who just looked like he woke up from death. He too looked badly injured like you, having a broken hand and bandage around his head. “Park Sunghoon-ssi was in the same car as you and got injured as well.”

Park Sunghoon. Why did that name sound so familiar?

“Well since you're both awake," she said, relief evident in her voice. "You've been in an accident. Do you remember anything Sunghoon-ssi?”

Sunghoon shook his head slowly. "No... I don't remember anything."

The nurse nodded, sympathy in her eyes. “It's not uncommon for victims to lose their memories after a traumatic accident. Memory loss can be temporary. Just focus on resting for now.”

The nurse leaves the room, leaving you and Sunghoon alone.

“She said we were in the same car together,” you say slowly. “But I really can’t remember what you are to me.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Me either. All I remember vividly is my parents. You must’ve been an acquaintance of mine, then.”

You nod, stretching your limbs. “You got more injured than me.”

He lets out an airy chuckle, lifting his broken arm which was in a cast into the air. “Yep, broken arm.”

You want to remember so badly what had happened leading up to all of this. What were you doing? Where were you going, and why were you with this Park Sunghoon guy in the first place?

“What did you get for breakfast?”

Sunghoon breaks the silence between the two of you, and you slowly look down at the tray in front of your bed.

“Uh, the nurse got me tiramisu and oatmeal.”

“Tiramisu?” Sunghoon’s mood automatically brightens up. “Can we please switch sweets? I really love tiramisu.”

You laugh at his childlike behavior, but nod anyway. “I’ll bring it to you Sunghoon, wait.”

You don’t know why, but it feels so right saying his name. Sunghoon must’ve felt the same way, because he swore his mouth went dry at you calling out his name.

You carefully make your way out your hospital bed, making sure not to accidentally detach any monitors that were attached to you. Grabbing the tiramisu cup, you make your way over to Sunghoon, who’s already shaking in excitement.

Then you make your way back, opening the lid of your oatmeal bowl.

“I may not know what happened in the accident,” Sunghoon says. “But I know this tiramisu is so fucking good.”

You shake your head, laughing at his words. “Yah Sunghoon, you think we were best friends before all of this?”

“Maybe.” He mutters, the mascarpone cheese of the tiramisu leaving a mark on the side of his lips.

“Well our humor is alike.” You say. “Would explain why we were in the same car together. Maybe we were going out to lunch.”

The rest of the day was spent with Sunghoon and you cracking jokes then and there, the awkwardness of the two of you being strangers quickly faded.

❀﹐

The next day, you were given tiramisu once again while Sunghoon was given cookies.

You descended from your bed, once again, and gave the tiramisu cup to Sunghoon while you grabbed his bag of cookies.

“You know what’s funny?” You say, biting into the warm chocolate chip cookie.

“What?” He says, although it’s muffled from the amount of tiramisu he’s stuffed into his mouth.

“Yah, you gotta stop doing that, it’s gross.”

Sunghoon sticks his tongue out at you, which makes you giggle.

“We’re both Parks, isn’t that funny?”

“Huh,” Sunghoon looks up at the ceiling, thinking for a brief second. “Park Sunghoon and Park Y/N. That is funny.”

Maybe both of your humors are broken because you hit your head too hard during the crash, but even though you were at the hospital, you’re glad you have someone like Sunghoon to keep you company.

“Do you want to watch the stars with me tonight at the balcony?” You ask the boy, who nods softly.

“I’d love to, actually.”

And that’s what the two of you did. By the time it hit 10pm, you two tiptoed out to the balcony, making sure to not let any of the night nurses see you.

“Whoaaa, it’s beautiful.” Sunghoon says, letting his broken arm lean against the railing. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

You smile, leaning your head on Sunghoon’s shoulder.

“Sunghoon.” You say, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not sure what we were before the accident,” you stop for a second. “But I’m glad we knew each other.”

Sunghoon turns his head to look down at your face, his expression morphed into a genuine smile. “I’m glad we knew each other too Y/N.”

That night, you slept the most compared to the other nights at the hospital. In your dreams, you see Sunghoon—only instead of being at the hospital bed right beside you, he’s in the kitchen, wearing a black suit.

“You look nice today.”

“Thank you baby.” Sunghoon leans down to give you a kiss on the lips. “Is that tiramisu?”

You nod, your eyes full of love. “Of course, you’ve been working so hard so I decided to make your favorite.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, letting the two of you swing back and forth slowly. “Thank you my love, I seriously don’t know what I would do without you.”

You woke up in a cold sweat, the dream feeling all too real.

“What’s wrong?” Sunghoon says, and you swore your heart almost leaped out of your chest, not expecting the brunette boy to be awake.

“It’s 2am, why are you even awake?” You say croakily, hands coming to rub your tired eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He shrugs. “Hey, I had a really weird dream just now.”

“Me too.” You say, “you were in it.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t further question it. “You were a lawyer in my dream, you just graduated from Seoul University. We bought a house, and you told me you wanted to continue with your career.”

At least his dream was somewhat normal, you think. I can’t just tell him I dreamt of us being together and being all lovey dovey. He’d be thrown into a coma!

“Ah, mine was similar.”

Nice save Y/N.

Sunghoon suddenly gets up from his bed, deciding to sit at the dining table the nurses had brought out for the two of you yesterday night.

“Come sit with me.”

You slowly creep out of your bed, sitting on the empty seat next to Sunghoon.

Suddenly, you’re hit with a sudden pounding headache.

“You’re the worst, Sunghoon!” You scream on the top of your lungs, “I hate you! I hate you!”

“Stop screaming!” He grabs your arms gently, eyes directly looking into yours. “Y/N-ah, stop it.”

“So I’m Y/N to you now?” Your voice breaks. “No more baby or love? Am I just another person to you Sunghoon?”

“Of course not, why would you say that?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, taking in a deep inhale. “Let’s just talk about this calmly, okay?”

“What’s there to talk about? You are never home, you’re always cooped up in your office! We might as well get a divorce!”

Sunghoon’s hold on your shoulder makes you snap out of your daze.

“Hey, you okay?” He says concernedly, “you were breathing heavily.”

“What?” You gasp. “Yeah—yeah, I’m okay. I just think I had a flashback.”

“Really? What was it?”

You don’t want to tell Sunghoon that it was the two of you fighting. Why did you even mention divorcing in the flashback? Were you and Sunghoon something more than just friends?

“Just the crash.” You say. You want to tell him the truth, you really do, but you’re not sure if these were hallucinations from how hard your head was hit during the trauma or if they were actual flashbacks.

“Well, I’m here.” Sunghoon whispers reassuringly. “I’ll always be here. We survived a car crash together anyway, we’re kinda bonded to each other.”

You laugh, smacking him on his shoulder softly. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe.”

❀﹐

“Do you remember what your passion was before all of this?” Sunghoon asks, peeling his orange with his injured hand.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” you say, “l think I really would’ve liked becoming a mother. I love kids, the thought of them makes me happy.”

“I think you would be a great mother.” Sunghoon says quietly. “Even though we don’t know each other much, I can tell you’re loving.”

You look down at your lap, trying to suppress the bright smile forming at the corner of your lips.

“Thanks Hoonie.”

“Hoonie?”

Your eyes widened. “I’m sorry! Did I make you uncomfortable? I should’ve not—”

“It’s okay Y/N,” he chuckles. “It’s fine. I like it.”

You can’t help but laugh along with him. “Okay.”

The next few days go by quickly, with you and Sunghoon already warming up to each other.

You were both comfortable enough to speak your thoughts freely around one another, no matter how silly or ridiculous some of them seemed.

When the nurses brought you two breakfast, Sunghoon almost dropped his fork in shock.

“They gave me tiramisu.” He says, eyes glistening with joy. “They finally gave me tiramisu.”

“I don’t know why you’re so excited.” You snicker jokingly. “You’ve been eating my tiramisu this entire week.”

He turns around to look at your tray, which had a bag of snickerdoodle cookies on it.

With shaking limbs, he makes his way over, handing the tiramisu cup to you and swapping it with your cookies.

“I thought you hated snickerdoodle cookies, Hoon?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed.

“I do.” He admits. “But you’ve given me your tiramisu all week, I wanted you to have mine this time.”

Your heart swells at that, and you point your spoon at him accusingly.

“Yah, is this because you want my chocolate pudding at dinner?” You joke.

“Pffft, what? Nooo.” He quickly defends himself. “But if you’re willing to share—”

“Shut up Park Sunghoon!”

“Yes ma’am!”

❀﹐

You don’t know why, but you’re starting to feel giddy whenever you talk with Sunghoon.

Your palms does this thing where it sweats profusely, and your tongue feels like dried sandpaper.

There’s no way you like Park Sunghoon, right? You’ve barely known the guy for two weeks, so why was the heart racing at the thought of him?

“I’ve convinced the nurses to get us two bottles of coca cola,” Sunghoon says, practically jumping up and down as he entered the room.

“Really? Out of all the drinks you could’ve persuaded them to get us, you got us coke.”

“Don’t diss Coca Cola like that!” Sunghoon says, crossing his arms.

Just like Sunghoon had said, the nurse approaches the two of you an hour later, 2 bottles of coca cola in her hands. She hands one to Sunghoon, then to you.

"Enjoy." She says, smile reaching her eyes.

Sunghoon's eyes light up when he opens the bottle and takes a sip. "Ah, for some reason, this feels so nostalgic."

A little memory pops up in his head, one of him playing at the park with his mom and younger sister.

"Sunghoon-oppa! Mom says she brought us coca cola!" The young girl, Yeji, says. "C'mon! Come with me!"

The young Park Sunghoon lets his younger sister take his hand, running towards their mom who was on the other side of the park.

"What's wrong Sunghoon-ssi?" You ask, noticing how his thick eyebrows were furrowed and his grip on the bottle had tightened.

"Huh?"

"You zoned out for a bit."

He chuckles nervously, glancing around the room. "Sorry, I think I just had a flashback." He says. "Park Yeji."

"Who?"

"My younger sister." He explains. "I could see her clearly. I wonder where she is right now."

You too wondered where your family was. Maybe they were too busy to come visit you. You could briefly remember having a younger brother. Jungwon. Yang Jungwon.

"Cheers." He says, mood changing quickly. His canines shined brightly as he smiled, making him look all too gorgeous in your eyes. "To the car crash, for bringing me and Park Y/N together."

You giggle, raising your bottle in the air. "Cheers to the car crash, for bonding me with this weird guy named Sunghoon."

"Yah!"

❀﹐

"Is it weird?"

"Hm?"

It's 11pm, and you and Sunghoon face each other as you're both laying on opposite ends of the room.

"That we've known each other for only a few weeks and I already feel like I've known you for an entire lifetime?"

You smile at his words, shaking your head. "No, I feel the same way Hoonie."

"Would it be stupid to say out loud how much I want to kiss you right now?"

Your mouth almost drops at his boldness, but you quickly shake your head.

Sunghoon takes your silence as approval, sitting up to come over to your side.

He brushes the hair away from your face, leaning in to close the gap between your lips.

When the both of you pull away, you automatically lean in again, the feel of his lips on yours felt so right.

"I love you Sunghoon." You say as you cup his cheeks. "I don't want to fight anymore."

"I know," he whispers. "I love you. Cause even though we were both going down, we were going down together."

"I hate you." You say, a smile playing on your face. "I hate you for being the only person who I can't stay mad at."

"And I love you," he says. "For being there for me, always."

"Sunghoon."

"Hm?"

"I love you."

He smiles down at you, uninjured hand coming to hold yours. "I love you too."

❀﹐

"What?" You say flabbergasted.

The next morning was the date of both yours and Sunghoon's discharge, and both your families decided to come visit.

"You two were married." Your father explains, a bewildered expression on his face. "How could you not know? Was the Park Y/N not obvious?"

"I thought that was just my last name!" You say, defending yourself.

"Your last name is Yang, noona." Your little brother speaks up. It was Jungwon, the same boy you kept seeing in your flashbacks, only this time, his face looks more clear and matured. "It was before you married Sunghoon-hyung."

"You're telling me we got married and divorced?" Sunghoon says, stuttering over his own words.

"Yes son," Sunghoon's mother explains. "Well, not quite exactly. We don't know why you guys wanted to divorce, you kind of shut yourselves out when you were arguing. You didn't officially divorce yet, you got into an accident on the way to court."

That made so much sense now. The flashbacks of arguments between you and Sunghoon, the makeups after the arguments, the cute moments, everything. It started to all click in your head.

"You still share houses and everything, the lawyers had to put your case on hold because you were both hospitalized." Jungwon says. "We were here to pick you up separately, in case you weren't comfortable staying with each other."

"It's fine." You and Sunghoon both say at the same time.

"Are you sure honey?" Sunghoon's mom asks concernedly.

"Yes mom, I'm sure."

The drive home was awkward, you both drove in different cars but to the home you had bought before the accident happened.

"Noona," Jungwon calls out to you. Your parents are still in the car, looking at the scene in front of them.

"Yes Jungwon?"

"Listen, I may not know a lot about love," he says, "but I know what you and Sunghoon-hyung have is real. I could still see somewhere in his eyes that he remembers parts of you and he still loves you whether or not his memories came back or not. I could tell you love him too. I don't know why the two of you decided to divorce but I know you called me crying hysterically because of it. I just think you two needed to talk it out, without the lawyers, without the paperwork. You two are the two most stubborn people I know, but also the two most loving people I know, you wouldn't just leave each other like that."

You want to cry at your younger brother's words, tears already leaking from your eyes. "Thank you Won."

You reach your arms out to hug him, a hug that he instantly melts into. "I love you noona."

"I love you too."

❀﹐

"This isn't what we expected, huh?" Sunghoon says, leaning his head on the marble island in the middle of your kitchen. "This whole time I thought you were my best friend, turns out you were my soon to be ex-wife."

You laugh quietly at the irony of the whole situation. "Whatever we were in the past is in the past Hoon."

He nods. "I can't believe we were going to divorce."

"I can't believe it either."

"You know what my mom told me in the car?" Sunghoon sits up straight to look at you. "The reason I have a broken arm and you don't was because during the crash, I put my arms around yours to protect you. Isn't that funny? Even though we hated each other at that moment, my first instinct was to protect you."

You stay still at that, his words sinking into your brain.

"It's like the universe wanted us to be together." You say quietly.

"Hey Y/N?"

You turn around to face Sunghoon. "Yeah?"

"I'm glad I married you."

Even though you and Sunghoon aren't sure where you stand in terms of relationship, all you know is that you love him, and that is enough for the both of you.

[samodivaa]

Winter Soldier x Nurse!Reader —Regular sex health checks are important Warnings - smut, dacryphilia, choking, breeding, precum play

The cold stethoscope against his chest and you being so gentle. He is now possessed by a vast irrationality. You are so near that he feels his breathing change, but his training comes in a trite remark. “Any problems?” he whispers, unmoving from his seated position on the hospital bed. Soldat knows he would not enter further into your life, but that adds to rather than diminished his passion for you—this makes it difficult for him to distinguish between his programmed detachment and the new coldness in his soul. He is serving Hydra against his will with negations and emotional neglect—but with you, he wants to stand still forever in your office. All he knows is pain. All he feels is desperation—but getting hurt on missions means having to come here. “No, but your heart beats faster, because of the serum and that is so fascina-”

You ramble on, but then you lift your eyes, searching for his. You catch something facetious in them and you silence yourself. It is a dangerous need—he is careful, to the point of self-consciousness, waiting for you to make the first move. Your gaze makes his trousers bulge, pushing up his heart into his throat—you kiss him and he pulls you against him. Your breathing is eager and exciting—lips are faintly chapple, but soft in the corners. You love him. But he doesn't know how to love. All he gives is temporary bliss. It has never occurred to you that this desire is not love, it’s ownership, it’s your flesh. “Полегче” you say innocently. (take it easy) You look for love hiding in his eyes and you find nothing but coldness and darkness.

“К сожалению, не могу” he urges excitedly. (unfortunately, I can’t) Domination. Control. His need is so immense that you become surrounded by it—his metal hand grips perfectly around your throat as if it’s made for that, while receiving the gift of your full submission. He places precise pressure, as air flow slowly dissipates in the depths of your body. These are such sacred moments, the strength in his hand is accompanied by verbal orders to submit fully to both his will and needs. His hand becomes God in that moment, he can take life or grant mercy, he chooses to offer pleasure in exchange for control. “Hе двигайся” he warns with a scornful smile. (don’t move) You look at him speechless. The startling, incredibly supercilious tone of Soldat who needs to be the one submitting to you, is extraordinary in itself—it turns you on every time. Fate has played a cruel trick and turned you both into nothingness, but he is masterful at twisting the situation and working the rules to get what he wants from you. You are not in control of your own lives, someone else is pulling the strings—but he does the same to you. An electric thrill races through you, your lungs shuddering in your chest, you are trapped and want him to silence the warmth pooling between your legs. “I can kill you” he mumbles and grips your throat tighter, depriving you of any oxygen. “But I won’t” 

His flesh hand moving at the waist of his pants, pulling out his erect cock. Your feminine hands move to grab the choking hand as you start to lose your vision, silently warning him and Soldat loosens his grip—you take three deep breaths and he chokes you once again, mouth agape, but your airway is blocked, restricting any flow to the lungs. You are glowing right in front of him, so near—longing is calling, making it harder for him to control himself any longer. Sensuality begins here with short glances at your body and ends with the hunger for touch, hunger for total control over your body. “Poor little snegurochka” he says while the other hand strokes his cock, wetting it with his pre-cum. Your inability to breathe makes him vehemently intoxicated for more. He needs to test your limits. The smile on his face, the perfect teeth, contrasting with the damp hair and unshaven face increases your sense of panic as your vision is clouding once more. Tears in your eyes form without any change in your facial expression. It’s pure pleasure, pure pain and pure surrender to the moment. “Fuck” he says, barely audible as he drags his fingers across his tip, gathering more pre-cum before moving his fingers close to your face “Open your eyes” Your lashes flutter softly, to not squirm away from his touch, it always drives you crazy, and he knows it. Your chest is heaving—you have almost forgotten what breathing feels like when he loosens his grip around your throat. He gently rubs your lower lip, a sticky finger working its way inside of your mouth, pressing on your tongue, eliciting a gag before removing it completely. Holding you in place, he lowers his face to yours, smirking  “I love it when you cry”  he says before running the tip of his tongue along your face, tasting your tear that has just fallen  “It makes my dick hard” . He tilts his head back and lowers his lips to yours and they get bitten to the point of bleeding. Winter feels a metallic taste on his tongue as he pulls back to admire his work, licking his lips, smiling disgustingly. The sharp taste of blood only whetting his appetite.

“You want more, don’t you?” he mutters, his own voice cracking. And then, his hot mouth is breathing into your ear, his hand still holding your neck as his lips ghost over your earlobe, then the metal hand dips from your neck to your breast. “I want you on the bed, Doctor” A note of feeling and tenderness suddenly comes into his voice “I want you” he adds ironically in conclusion. A shiver shakes you when he gets up, you go backwards two steps before his fingers find their way on both sides of your hips, drawing soft circles as they travel up towards your waist. In a split second, he puts you on the bed as if you weigh nothing, his thumbs dig into your skin, and he peels your legs apart, inserting himself between them. He can't suppress the desire to intertwine his metal fingers through your hair, tugging your head back and kissing you, the light pain forces your mouth open and uses that to savor it with his tongue. His need for air finally rips his tongue out from yours, sticky strands of spit spilling between your mouths as you share collective gasps of breath.

Your eyes speak, while the tongue is mute, your chin is quivering and your eyes are still moist—love and lust tangle in a harsh and uninviting setting. No conceivable prospects. No happiness. But at this moment, it is just you and your Asset. Without realizing what you are doing and more on an impulse than anything else, you lean forward and kiss him. It is a simple, yet firm kiss and you pull back after only a moment. You expect Soldat to lean down for another. He doesn’t. His chuckle strokes your nerves in all the wrong ways. Your jaw snaps shut so tightly, that you are surprised you don’t crack a molar.

“So fucking needy” His voice sounds flat as if someone has struck a false note on the piano—his mind consists of black and white keys—and you have pressed the wrong one "I only intend to fuck” A gasp leaves your lips as he rips your uniform, which sets all the muscles of your face quivering—you can't force romance, you realize. It's there or it isn't. He hooks one leg around his hip while the other is pressed against your chest, bending over his left shoulder. His tip against your entrance, teasingly rubbing against you before he shoves his cock inside your cunt with a swift thrust, stretching you out so nicely, but it hurts—as his tip hits your cervix and makes you want to scream. You are a maelstrom of emotions. All you want to do is scream. But you can’t. You manage a high-pitched groan. He is a mess, your lips part as your eyes widen at the sounds he makes—Soldat is panting, labored breaths on your neck, his breath hitting you as he bites on your skin, teeth dragging against your neck, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. Something strange starts to rage inside him, hearing you inhale sharply as he continues to lick and bite your neck, leaving bruises deliberately and as he fucks you deeper, wanting to mark you in an entirely different way—he wants to breed you, his cock twitches inside you as he thinks about it. His eyes are deep, shaded with possessiveness. The most interesting and curious part is he rarely speaks with eyes, but he knows how much you love to be watched—his unblinking gaze has you hooked, your whole body tenses abruptly when he lifts his face from your neck, you moan, feeling the orgasm approaching. You can't take it anymore. It is too much, too fast, and the way he is looking down at you is just cruel. With a pathetic whimper you come all over his length, not for once breaking eye contact—it is addicting to know that he is watching you fall apart. This is bliss. His eyes always bring you over the edge at the right moment, leaving an imprint on your heart. 

Soldat is not going to last much longer, something about your eyes—about you being the one watching him now, his body lurches forward, his movements stagger, growing erratic and with a low groan—he pushes himself flush with a sense of finality, coming deep inside you with a residual rock of his hips, multiple pints of hot slimy cum shoot inside your body, riding out your over-stimulated hole with a full body shudder.

Almost painfully he takes his eyes from you. Nothing in this world is more difficult than the reality.

[thedensworld]

What a Fate | Y.Jh

Pairing: Jeonghan x Reader

Genre: humor, suggestive, smut

Words Count: 3k

Summary: Who would have thought your next meeting after having a one-night stand would be this unexpected?

 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Jeonghan's frustration lingered from the recent board meeting where his cousin, Seungcheol, secured the position of vice president in their grandfather's company. Despite Jeonghan's tireless efforts for the company's 60th anniversary celebration, his ambitions were shattered due to a scandal that befell him just weeks before the crucial vote.

As the CEO of their food and beverage company, Jeonghan has been diligently working towards the success of the family business. However, a sudden scandal arose when a former secretary from four years ago accused him of verbal bullying during their professional association. The accusation, given his prominent familial ties, tarnished the company's image.

Jeonghan, disheartened by the false accusations, found himself grappling with the fallout of the scandal. The situation escalated as the woman, who had once served as his secretary, admitted to fabricating the allegations. It was revealed that she had been nursing an unrequited love for Jeonghan, leading her to concoct the damaging story.

The relief of the truth emerging was accompanied by the bitter taste of betrayal. Jeonghan couldn't help but feel the weight of the injustice that had cost him the chance to inherit the family business. The emotional toll of the scandal, compounded by the familial dynamics at play, cast a shadow over what should have been a moment of celebration for Jeonghan and the company.

Jeonghan, guided by Joshua's advice, surrendered to the allure of the night and found himself embracing the spontaneity that the club offered. In the dimly lit space, fueled by the rhythm of the music, he discovered a fleeting connection with you. The chemistry between them escalated, and in the heat of the moment, they succumbed to the passion of a one-night stand.

The club's pulsating beats seemed to echo the heartbeat of the impulsive decision, and for a brief moment, Jeonghan let go of the burdens that had weighed him down. The physical connection became a temporary escape, a way to numb the lingering frustrations and disappointments.

As dawn approached, reality set in. The night, once filled with liberation, now carried the weight of consequences. Jeonghan, caught between the thrill of the moment and the complexities of his personal and professional life, grappled with the aftermath of the impulsive choice.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Jeonghan muttered, the weight of realization hitting him as he hastily gathered his clothes. The consequences of the alcohol-fueled night began to sink in, and regret cast a shadow over him.

A sudden groan from you interrupted his frantic activity, causing Jeonghan to freeze. Relief washed over him as he realized you were still blissfully unaware, providing a temporary shield from the aftermath of their impulsive actions.

Stepping out of the hotel room, Jeonghan's first instinct was to call Joshua for a quick escape. The clock stubbornly displayed 2 a.m., an hour that should have deterred most people. However, Joshua, known for his penchant for late-night revelry, was the chosen confidant in this moment of crisis.

"My friend!" Joshua's voice, brimming with excitement, greeted Jeonghan as he opened the car door. In the midst of his own turmoil, Jeonghan found himself trapped with an exuberant Joshua. After directing Joshua's driver to head towards his home, Jeonghan couldn't escape the barrage of questions.

"I was looking for you, Jeonghan. Where have you been?" Joshua's enthusiasm clashed with Jeonghan's drained energy. Rolling his eyes, Jeonghan turned away, seeking a reprieve from the relentless inquiries.

"That's mean!" Joshua's protest echoed before giving way to the unexpected sounds of snoring. A chuckle escaped Jeonghan as he realized Joshua had succumbed to sleep, leaving the impending conversation for a more conscious moment.

The car ride became a surreal blend of exhaustion and Joshua's snores. Jeonghan, lost in his thoughts, braced himself for the inevitable talk he would have with Joshua once the overly-energetic friend returned to full consciousness. The night's events had left Jeonghan grappling with a mix of emotions, from regret to amusement at the unpredictable turns his life had taken.

The shrill ring of Jeonghan's phone pierced through the haze of his extended slumber, rousing him from a deep sleep. His body, oddly resistant to the routine of heading to work, had lingered in the realm of dreams, perhaps still grappling with the disappointment from the previous day's board meeting.

"Hm..." Jeonghan's response was a simple murmur, his voice carrying the remnants of a dizzy head after indulging in an unusually prolonged sleep—almost 12 hours of it.

As he reluctantly confronted the reality of the waking world, his secretary's voice permeated through the fog. Apologies were offered before the revelation struck like a sudden storm. "Your nephew, Mingyu, got into a fight and is now in a detention center."

Jeonghan's eyes snapped wide open, the abrupt news shattering the remnants of his grogginess. "What?!" The word escaped his lips, a mix of shock and frustration evident in his tone.

"He was bullied and made a defensive move, but they were captured by the cops as they fought behind a convenience store building," the secretary explained, weaving a narrative that only added to Jeonghan's growing list of familial challenges. Mingyu, his sister's son, seemed to have an uncanny ability to find trouble at the most inconvenient times, leaving Jeonghan to grapple with the repercussions once again. The responsibility he shouldered for his nephew intensified, adding another layer of complexity to an already tumultuous day.

A curse escaped Jeonghan's lips, a frustrated response to the recurrent challenges posed by his nephew, Kim Mingyu. The young troublemaker seemed to have a knack for causing chaos at the most inconvenient moments, leaving Jeonghan to bear the consequences.

Reflecting on recent incidents, Jeonghan's frustration intensified. Two weeks prior, he found himself reluctantly purchasing an expensive painting after Mingyu 'innocently' sneezed in front of it. A month ago, an expensive plate was shattered at a family gathering, forcing Jeonghan into the heart-wrenching position of apologizing to his grandfather for Mingyu's actions.

Sighing deeply, Jeonghan ended the call after obtaining the address of the police station where Mingyu was detained. The weight of responsibility settled on his shoulders once again. Determined to impart a lesson, Jeonghan knew he had to handle the situation personally.

A decade had passed since the tragic accident that claimed Jeonghan's sister and her husband, thrusting him into the role of responsibility for their son, Mingyu. Initially, the burden was shared with his parents, a delicate balancing act of familial obligations. However, as Mingyu navigated through his teenage years, his penchant for trouble escalated, prompting Jeonghan to shoulder the responsibility more exclusively.

Considering the high schooler's propensity for getting into mischief, Jeonghan made a conscious decision not to burden his aging parents further. He chose to bear the weight of guardianship alone, shielding his elderly parents from the additional stress.

As he prepared to confront Mingyu's latest misadventure at the police station, Jeonghan couldn't help but ponder the alternate scenario. Imagining what would happen if his father received this distressing information brought a shiver down his spine. The elderly patriarch, already burdened with the weight of years, would likely find the news overwhelming.

Jeonghan entered the police station, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he spotted Mingyu in the detention room, anxiously calling out his name. However, his heartbeat skipped a fraction when his eyes fell upon you, seated in front of the officer. The stark contrast in your attire from the previous night caught him off guard, and confusion clouded his features. The officer introduced you as Mingyu's homeroom teacher, and Jeonghan's mind raced to piece together the unfolding situation.

Jeonghan, torn between frustration and the need to understand the circumstances, addressed the officer, "I'm Jeonghan, Mingyu's guardian. What's going on?"

The officer explained the situation, detailing the fight and emphasizing the need for the guardian's presence before Mingyu could be released. Jeonghan's gaze shifted between you and Mingyu, sensing an air of complexity in the dynamics at play.

Other students had already been released and gone home, but Mingyu remained in captivity. You, as the homeroom teacher, withheld the crucial signature needed for his release until Mingyu's guardian arrived.

"Do you have time to talk after this, sir?" Your polite inquiry caught Jeonghan off guard as you both made your way to the parking lot. His eyes briefly flickered at Mingyu, who observed the peculiar atmosphere between his uncle and his homeroom teacher.

Jeonghan, his curiosity piqued, nodded in agreement, and motioned for Mingyu to wait in the car. As Mingyu stepped out of earshot, Jeonghan's heart raced in anticipation. What could you possibly want to discuss? Was it about the events of last night? Did you remember him as vividly as he remembered you?

The memory of the night played in Jeonghan's mind like a vivid reel. Your tight black dress accentuating every curve, flawless makeup adorned with a bold red lipstick, had captivated him. Yet, it was the sweet and unexpectedly addictive scent of caramel popcorn from your cologne that lingered in his thoughts. What a twisted charm you have.

Standing before him in your teaching attire—a baby blue blouse paired with white wide pants—your natural beauty surpassed Jeonghan's expectations. The sudden shift in his breath caught him off guard as he momentarily lost himself in the understated grace you exuded.

"Mr. Yoon?" Your voice broke through his reverie, bringing him back to the present moment.

"I'm so sorry to cause you trouble. I know Mingyu's family is very busy, but your presence was rather important for him and also for me as his homeroom teacher," you explained, and Jeonghan couldn't help but feel a sense of confusion lingering. The events of last night loomed in the background, and he wondered if they would be addressed.

As he waited for an explanation, you continued, "If you have time tomorrow morning, I would like to have a discussion about Mingyu's future education and career. Here's my contact information: Just in case you couldn't be present tomorrow, please inform me."

 

*

 

Jeonghan found himself in the counseling room of Mingyu's high school, bewildered by an inexplicable impulse that led him to cancel a crucial meeting. Outside, he waited with a strange mix of patience and nervous anticipation, uncertain of the forthcoming conversation. The memory of the recent hotel encounter lingered—an unspoken chapter between you two.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Yoon. I just finished a class. Thank you for coming. Do you need anything? Tea? Coffee?" Your unexpected presence disrupted Jeonghan's thoughts, prompting him to swiftly adjust his posture as he graciously declined your offer.

Seated across from him, technically in front of the table that acted as a silent mediator, you handed Jeonghan Mingyu's academic report. As he immersed himself in its contents, a narrative of Mingyu's scholastic journey unfolded, a canvas painted with both struggles and untapped potential.

The room held tension, an unspoken dialogue brewing beneath the surface. Jeonghan's eyes moved meticulously over the report, absorbing the nuances of Mingyu's academic challenges juxtaposed with his aspirations.

"As you can discern, Mingyu faces academic challenges. However, he stands as our school's basketball captain with tremendous potential for a professional career," you began, extending another paper containing Mingyu's career aspirations.

The weight of Mingyu's familial background as a businessperson hung in the air. "But, Mr. Yoon, Mingyu himself expressed zero interest in the business industry; his heart is set on pursuing a career in sports."

Jeonghan gently placed the report on the table, his hand following suit. His eyes, now directed at you, betrayed a mix of surprise and realization. "I never knew about this," he confessed, the admission carrying a layer of contemplation.

Jeonghan's mouth grew dry as he spoke, gratitude laced in his words. "Thank you so much for telling me this. Mingyu and I never really had a conversation about his school or his hobby."

You nodded empathetically, acknowledging the complexities of understanding a high schooler. "I understand, Mr. Yoon. Mingyu might seem like a very happy teenager, but we never truly know what's inside his head. I recommend you have a talk with him regarding his future; it'll be a good approach in case you two have different perspectives, and I believe both perspectives are important."

Jeonghan, appreciating the advice, nodded in agreement. "Thank you so much for the suggestion. Ms...?"

You gasped, covering your mouth, in a moment of realization. "Oh my goodness, I haven't introduced myself. Y/n, Ji Y/n. I'm a Korean teacher and also Mingyu's homeroom teacher."

As Jeonghan smiled, he expressed gratitude for Mingyu having a kind and attentive teacher. The mention of considering private school after the last incident hinted at the complexities of Mingyu's situation. "Ms. Ji, I am glad to know that Mingyu has a very kind and attentive teacher in his school. My family has considered sending him to a private school since the last incident. But I don't think we have to."

Jeonghan swore he noticed a faint blush on your cheeks as a soft chuckle escaped you. "It was such a big compliment for a teacher like me, Mr. Yoon," you responded, your tone carrying a modest grace. The unexpected exchange left a subtle warmth in the air, a departure from the serious tone of their earlier conversation.

As the discussion concluded, both of you walked out of the counseling room. Jeonghan nodded appreciatively as you motioned the way to the school entrance, a tacit agreement to walk together. The rhythmic tap of your shoes against the hallway floor echoed the unspoken tension lingering between you two.

Upon reaching the entrance, Jeonghan felt an itch to address the elephant in the room. Did you recognize him from the recent one-night stand just two days ago? "Ms. Ji..." he began, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

You turned to him, your attention fully on him, a smile gracing your face. Jeonghan, in that moment, found himself captivated by your smile, his gaze unconsciously drawn to your lips. Memories of the recent encounter flickered in his mind, an unexpected longing surfacing.

"Perhaps..." Jeonghan hesitated, his mind wrestling with the question he was about to pose. "Have we ever met before?"

He shook his head hastily, answering his own question before you had the chance. "No," he said, the denial leaving a lingering tension in the air.

"Perhaps you remember me?"

Your eyes widened at his inquiry, and the sudden realization flickered in your gaze. Jeonghan's unspoken question had found its answer.

 

*

 

Your walls were clenching as Jeonghan thrust into you passionately. The way you moan around the room made Jeonghan's head go dizzy. You whisperedly asked him to speed up the pace before your lips met each other, craving the moistness caused by lust.

"You're so tight, baby." Jeonghan's sigh escaped from his mouth as his pelvis moved harder than before, earning your climax. He swore that the way you clenched him had sent him into heaven. Your sinful moans are Beethoven's masterpiece. The way your lips flushed, your cheeks stained red, and your hair stuck to your forehead were magical sights for him.

His left hand roamed your body. Praise them like you are such a goddess of beauty. His finger has met your nerves, and playing it has made your walls clench him even more, making it harder to thrust.

A moan slipped out of his mouth as he could feel your walls tighten and you hit your climax. The thrust became slopier, and it was the moment he felt that he was ready to burst because of you.

"Where do you want it, baby?" Jeonghan whispered in your ear. Thrusting you harder is a sign for you to answer him immediately, or he might burst inside you.

"My mouth, my mouth, please."

Shit, you'll be the death of him.

"Argh.."

Jeonghan's eyes are wide open. He just cummed on his bed while sleeping. Jeonghan blinked, his surroundings shifting from the intimate scene to the familiar sight of his bedroom. The remnants of the dream lingered, leaving him disoriented. He sighed, realizing it was all just a vivid fantasy playing in his subconscious mind. The sensations, the passion—all evaporated as he woke up to the reality of his empty room.

Jeonghan shook his head, trying to dispel the lingering heat of the dream. The intensity of the emotions felt so real, yet he was alone in his bed, his body untouched by the events that had unfolded in his mind.

Jeonghan, dressed in his work attire, couldn't help but notice Mingyu having breakfast at the table. Reflecting on yourr conversation from the previous day, he decided to break his usual routine and take a seat across from his nephew. It had been quite some time since Jeonghan had the chance to grab a morning meal.

As Mingyu chewed his food, his uncle's unexpected presence halted the motion of his jaw. The helper, accustomed to preparing breakfast for Mingyu alone, observed the unusual scene with curiosity. Confusion knitted Mingyu's brow as he wondered about Jeonghan's sudden change in behavior.

Jeonghan broke the silence, "How's school, Mingyu?" Mingyu, caught off guard, stammered a bit before replying, "Great, I have a lot of fun in this school."

Jeonghan nodded, deciding to share his own surprise. He casually mentioned that he had visited Mingyu's school the day before. Mingyu's reaction was unexpected, a slight protest evident on his face. Jeonghan, raising an amused eyebrow, asked, "Why are you so worked up?"

Mingyu confessed, "I don't want to be transferred to another school. What happened last time was a mistake of mine; I failed to control myself." He dropped his head, a mix of guilt and apprehension clouding his expression.

Jeonghan's brow rose, and he clarified, "Who said you're going to be transferred?" Mingyu, bewildered, tried to explain, "I heard that—"

Cutting him off, Jeonghan interjected, "I met your homeroom teacher. She told me you're a really good basketball player in school. Is that true?" A hint of pride and curiosity danced in Jeonghan's eyes, dispelling any misunderstanding that Mingyu might have had.

Mingyu's cheeks colored with embarrassment as he shrugged, "I don't know. She's praising me so much by saying that to you."

Jeonghan chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Do you want to go to a sports school in the future?" he asked, curious about Mingyu's aspirations, although he already had a good idea of the answer.

Mingyu shrugged back, asking tentatively, "Would you let me?"

Mirroring Mingyu's movement, Jeonghan replied, "Of course, why not?"

A wide smile lit up Mingyu's face upon hearing his uncle's supportive words. His laughter bubbled with excitement as he processed what had just transpired. "No way! Is Ms. Ji behind this?" Mingyu shook his head in disbelief. "Woah, Ms. Ji... Woah! I can't believe this."

Jeonghan observed his nephew's elation with amusement, his mind already brewing with a mischievous idea. "With one condition," he added, immediately causing Mingyu's smile to drop.

"What is it?" Mingyu asked impatiently.

Jeonghan rose from his seat, finishing his breakfast and preparing to leave for work. Just as he was about to go, he turned his head toward Mingyu and dropped a bombshell, "Set me up with Ms. Ji."

He walked away, leaving Mingyu stunned and taken aback by his uncle's unexpected request. The air hung with a mix of surprise and anticipation as Mingyu processed the playful twist his uncle had added to the morning conversation.

[dejwritesarchived]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ can i, leon kennedy

you should have known something was going to happen when he showed up at your door at two in the morning.

♔ ˖ ✧ — general warnings: female reader, her/she pronouns, female anatomy described, written with black reader in mind, established relationship (they’re exes), mentions of scars, a lil angst, profanity, takes place after re4 events but i don’t spoil anything major, reader folds immediately but who wouldn’t fold for leon, mentions of reader being a nurse, mentions of reader talking to someone—not dating but talking, slight jealous!leon, listen to can i by kehlani to get the mood of this one shot // smut warnings: missionary position, a lil bit of just the tipness…you’ll understand what i mean when you read it, spit usage, implied oral (f.receiving), clit play, fully clothed leon kinda idk man i thought the sight of him being fully clothed was hot in my head just walk with me it okay, body worship, implied marking kink, // word count: 2.6k, minors dni

A YAWN ESCAPED BY YOUR LIPS AS YOU LET YOUR SLIPPERS SLIDE ACROSS THE LIGHT WOODEN FLOORS. The sound of knocking on your apartment’s door jolting you out of sleep caused you to grumble all types of profanity words under your breath. You had finished a twelve-hour shift at your job and had the next day off—gladly you were spending that time catching up on sleep until the person behind your front door interrupted. You leaned forward to peel through the peephole, and you thought your eyes were deceiving you. You stepped back to rub the sleep out of your eyes to confirm that you weren’t dreaming that the man behind your front door was there. That this wasn’t you dreaming of him. Your eyes glance over at the clock that was on the coffee table in your living room, 2 A.M. 

You looked again, and his figure was still there. He looked different from the last time you saw him. Did he get bigger? Taller? Did his hair get longer? What was he doing here? Questions swirled around your mind until the knocking happened again. You inhaled sharply, reliving that when you opened the door, all the memories of him would slap you harshly. You’ll have to face him after the breakup that left you having dazed and confused sleepless nights. When you unlocked your door and opened it, the questions swirling around your head were answered.

Yes, he did get bigger, as if he’s been working out more. Yes, it did seem like he got taller. And his hair looked like it got longer to the point that it fell in his face just a little bit. But those eyes, those eyes weren’t the same from the last time you gazed upon them. They looked mature, yet could tell so many stories from what he’s been through the last time you saw them. 

“Leon, what are you doing here?” 

You haven’t seen him since he decided to break off the relationship. Quoting that it’ll only grow complicated due to what he does, as if you haven’t cleaned cuts and bruises on his body due to said job. You always wanted to tell him that you were all in and didn’t mind the possible dangers of dating him. 

“Can I come in?” His voice knocks you out of your thoughts, and you're staring at him as if he’s gone mad. 

However, it was two in the morning, and you didn’t want any complaints in the morning from neighbors. You stepped aside to let him in. When he stepped by you, his scent made your knees weak. Maybe it was because you hadn’t indulged in that scent in so long. There were days when you would smell just like him because you lounged in his spare RPD t-shirts or cuddled up next to him after a long shift at the hospital. Now it was like a temporary mist, just a mere memory of what you two had. You closed the door and locked it, your fingers tugging at the oversized t-shirt you wore—now feeling awkward that you haven’t slipped on sweats. 

“I know we left on a rather-“ 

“You broke up with me, and I couldn’t contact you afterward.” You interrupted. “Why are you here, Leon? To talk? To argue? To makeup? I don’t have time for this, you know.” You’re stepping further to close the gap between you two.

“To make up.” 

Those words shocked you, and now you were taking two steps back to glare at him in confusion. Your eyebrows furrowed together as you searched for the words to describe how you felt about that. 

“You’re insane.” You said. “You can’t just show up and expect us to just make up.”

“I didn’t expect it to be easy, Y/N.” Leon’s taking the two steps forward that you backed out of. “I know that you’re so stubborn that you’ll make me work for it. I’m shocked that you didn’t slam the door in my face.” 

“Stubborn?” You darkly chuckled and rolled your eyes at his words. “Leon, I’m talking to someone, and I think we will be serious soon.” 

Selfishly, you said those words to hurt him. You and this person had only been on one or two dates, and you weren’t even sure that you two would be serious. You just worked in the same hospital, but your two schedules were very rigorous—you weren’t even sure if the two of you could even work. But you had to admit; you said those words to hurt Leon. You wanted him to have that same heartbroken feeling of when he just left you and went radio silent on you. 

Leon’s jaw tightens at the sound of your words. Your words pierced his chest so harshly that it felt like it was tightening. His nails dig into the inside of his palms before he exhales sharply. The space between you two can’t get closed up, and you would take a step back until you felt the arm of your gray-colored sofa. 

“So, whatever nonsense you have to tell me—I’m sure it no longer matters because I’m serious with this person.” You broke the silence. 

Why did that sting your tongue so harshly? Was it because it was a lie? Maybe.  He didn’t need to know that because you didn’t want him to hurt you again. He didn’t even deserve to be in your presence anymore. But foolishly, here he was because you let him. You let him in your presence for what? Some petty lies to make him seethe with jealousy. 

Yes, Leon was jealous. You knew him so well that seeing the way his jaw locked showed that he was in deep thought about you and this person. You knew Leon was thinking of the thought of you smiling at this person with that same smitten smile you used to give him. You knew he’d think about how you’ll give this person the same lovesick stare you formally gave him. Gosh, the thought of you giving yourself to them sexually had the brown-haired man seeing red (but he wouldn’t admit that to you). 

“Are you really serious with them?” 

“Yes.” 

Liar. 

“Even if I do this?” 

You never expected to feel Leon’s lips again. The last time you felt the warmth of his lips—he was placing a kiss on the top of the temple and leaving you alone in the diner your first date was swearing that it was him and not you. So you wouldn’t say the feeling of his lips was foreign to you—he had kissed, licked, and sucked upon your bare body all before. But this just felt salacious. 

You only say that because of how quickly you grasp at the leather jacket he wore to bring him closer. Your body inching closer towards the sofa behind your body with each move of your lips on each other. During the brief moment of Leon breaking the kiss slowly, you could feel small pecks upon your kiss swollen kisses as if the brown-haired man didn’t want the kiss to end. From your toes that were covered in pastel pink colored fuzzy socks to the top of your head—your body felt hot. You were only covered in just a flimsy oversized t-shirt but felt like you were running a fever. And Leon took advantage of this and the overflowing tension that was closing in on the both of you as you were in the living room. His rugged hands that were stained with vices he committed while being away is tugging the shirt over your head without care. The piece of clothing decorating the floor was similar to the rug that was in the center of the living room. 

Leon’s chestnut-colored eyes are watching as your bare skin encrusts with goosebumps due to the cool air that circulates the apartment. His mouth waters the way your nipples harden as soon as you’re just exposed for him to see. With a shaky breath, you’re pushing yourself further onto the sofa and Leon took place in between the space of your plush thighs. You poorly attempted to use the sound of his belt being unbuckled and pants being pushed off frantically to silence your thoughts. Oh, we’re your thoughts playing ping pong at the moment. A mixture of ‘oh, this is such a bad idea’ and ‘it wouldn’t hurt to give him some while he looks so desperate for you’. You wanted to tell your thoughts to shut up so you can process that moment, but that was a bit too late when your blue-colored panties were being dragged down your thighs. Your pussy lips were painted with your slick and it took Leon so much restraint to not bury his face in between your thighs. 

He’s tugging himself out his bottoms, but not fully—just enough to tug his hardened cock out from his boxers and have it resting on your tummy. The weight of it causes you to swallow the nervous lump that formed in the back of your throat. But your pussy ached to feel it again. You wanted him to make you feel so good like he did before you broke up. He’s pushing your knees to your chest and one of your legs plops upon his shoulder as he’s making eye contact with you. You broke his eye contact to stare at the way your gold anklet dangled just a bit by his ear. You couldn’t dare look at Leon when you let him have you like this in a matter of minutes, completely folding to let him see you vulnerable like this when you swore to never let him back into the comfort of your life. 

“Look at me,” Leon’s fingers hook under your chin to guide you to look at him. “Are you serious with them? Even though you’re letting me do this?” His voice oozes with a teasing tone that you wanted to comment on. 

But instead, you’re watching as he’s brushing his pink-colored tip upon your wet folds. With the mixture of the precum encrusted on it and your slick—the wet sound of him massaging his tip between your folds made your stomach form knots. Not bad ones though, pleasurable ones that you had whimpering out for more as Leon’s brushed his tip upon your entrance teasingly. His free hand that wasn’t guiding his cock to tease you until you were soaked rubbed soothing curves on the leg that was prompted on his shoulder. 

“Please, Leon. Stop the teasin’,” You whither upon his grasp attempting to feel some friction of his cock being inside you. 

“Tell me what you want..” His voice trails off just like the fingertips that trailed down your chest. Tracing alongside your areola and down to your belly button. The tip of his cock rested just a bit inside of you and just that little motion was driving you insane. 

With a smug grin on his face, Leon’s barely putting in the effort to push his hips further inside you. He just had his tip resting inside you until he could feel your thighs quivering against his body. Instead of granting you what you want, he’s just indulging in the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his tip.  

With broken whimpers, you could only rasp out. “I want you.” 

Leon clicks his tongue before he’s peppering the inside of your ankle with kisses. With each kiss, you’re left breathless. When you look at him, it sees memories of your relationship being dumped upon you. The way he looked at you was the way he would look at you when you were together. So lovestruck. So smitten for just you. 

“Look at you,” Leon pulls his tip which was covered with slick out. He teasingly brushed it against your throbbing clit causing a chill to travel down your spine. “So beautiful.” 

“Please, Leon.” You begged, your waist moving just a bit below his grasp to feel for him. “I’m not serious with anyone. I haven’t been since we broke up.” 

And that’s what Leon wanted to hear. He brought his hand up to his mouth pooling a good amount of spit in his hand before letting it coat his cock with ease. You heard Leon let out a groan of desperation as he palmed himself right in front of you before sliding into you with ease. 

You couldn’t quite describe how you felt when you and Leon became whole. The feeling of his cock felt like something that you yearned for months. Your chest heaved at the feeling—at how well Leon felt inside of you. His hips pivot forward in a motion that makes your brain fuzz up. Your fingers grasp at his forearm digging into it as something to help you hold on. Your thighs spread apart so provocatively that you knew Mother Mary herself was clutching her heart. Your eyes that were squeezed shut fluttered open to make eye contact with Leon just as the sound of your thighs slapping against his clothed lower half. 

Without many words, he’s increasing his speed. With your leg hooked by his shoulder and your shiny golden anklet dangling carelessly with each thrust forward. Your whimpers were like music to Leon’s heated and red-shaded ears. His callous hands grasped at your waist to pin you in place even though you were already ever so trapped under his weight. You could feel the wetness below your bare bottom staining the sofa that many months ago—he helped pick out. With your mouth gasping apart, Leon leans down to place wet kisses on your gasping lips. Not exactly muffling your moans so you wouldn’t wake your neighbors but to just feel even closer to you. 

“Shit.” Leon breathes out as he tugs himself out of you before shoving himself back in to feel the warmth and tightness of your pussy again.

It was one thing you adored when Leon and yourself had sex. When he was about to come, he always ensured you came first. Even if he was on his last ounce of energy, he wasn’t afraid to let his fingers dance upon your throbbing clit to intensify the toe-curling orgasm that erupted in the pit of your stomach. That’s exactly what he did, he’s lifting his body off of you and wetting his index and middle finger. Without reluctance, he thumbs at your clit in a circular motion. 

“You’re so close, I can tell how you’re squirming and how much you soaked the sofa,” Leon says through breathy groans and subtle hushed profanity words.

Tears crystalized on your lash line as you whimpered out Leon’s name as if it was the only word you knew. The way he seemed to make your lower half body go through its own wave of fireworks—you were perfectly fine with only seeing him, only having him, and much more. His hips rock forward to fuck you through the orgasm that made your toes curl and your back arch off the softness of the plush sofa below your sweat-coated body. 

This wasn’t how you imagined the conversation to go, but if you were given the chance to turn back time to change the way it went—you wouldn’t.

You were seeing spots in the way your orgasm tugged you off cloud nine. Your pussy pulses around Leon’s cock as you feel the weight of his clothed body falls upon your frame. Your chest heaves upward and downward as you’re trying to regain your breath, soul, and thoughts. You could feel Leon kissing your heated skin that now was engraved with the scent of him. 

Oh, Leon Kennedy what you could do to a girl like you. He would always have your heart even if you tried your hardest to tug away.

​━━ ♡ ​​tags // @eiflawriting @takemichiluvr @maydayaisha @photosbyameil @alinvert @keijimilk @minniecums @stunnababyyabyyy @persona-enthusiast @itzgabz22 @ssunster @weeb4equality @duminki-dominikano @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @doingurmom69 @elysianrosie @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @shinsousliya @its-jazz @kibouhikari92 @sailewhoremoon @privateparty3 @lisia-primary @endeavours-jockstrap @chaoticevilbakugo @dais-hime @burpzz @av-sos @holydayaria @d-vatastic-blog @k-aylla @jeonkookieworld @yo-yoyeol @anime9ja @smalland-angry @cressys @geekgirlofarchangels @d1xkrider @dani5216 @4522-08 @xnerdiebirdiex @duboius @whoatherenelly @lashaemorow

thanks for reading and i hope you guys enjoyed this. ♡

[frudoo]

Full Hands Pt. 4

Warnings: Mentions of wanting to have children (i.e. get pregnant, give birth, nurse, etc.)

Full Hands Masterlist

You knew the job was temporary when you took it. You were simply filling in as a nanny for the kids until their family was stable enough for the mother to stay home. You just didn’t expect it to be so soon. The man got a notable promotion at his place of work, and the raise that came with his new position meant that his wife would no longer need to sustain a job. You were happy for them, truly—you could see how she clung to her children in the mornings, the sadness in her smile as she bid you and the kiddos goodbye—but you had grown to love these kids like your own.

Yesterday was your last day, a bittersweet thing. The little miss helped you cook a special breakfast of blueberry pancakes, insisting on mixing the batter. To your surprise, she didn’t spill a drop and even helped hold the bowl for you as you dropped some batter into the pan. The now nine-month-old boy, instead of fussing at you to help him eat, decided to be Mr. Independent and grab the bites of torn-up pancake all on his own. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt, watching these children grow up so quickly only to withdraw from their everyday lives.

Of course, you’d still see them from time to time, either to babysit or in passing. Their parents had made it clear that you were still their friend and welcome in their home anytime. As for now, you were jobless, posting your information on corkboards all over town and praying that a kind family would give you a call. Even John and your closest friends were keeping an eye out when they could, sending you links to local mom groups on Facebook that you could join and advertise in. So far, nobody was in need of a full-time care provider, so you’ve been scheduled to babysit for multiple families for a night or two.

It’s like the universe is taunting you. Everywhere you go, you see mamas bouncing their happy babies on their hips, daddies carrying their toddlers on their shoulders, parents swinging their children by the arms as they walk. Today, you find yourself at the park where you and the kiddos would frequent, apparently set on torturing yourself. It’s a Thursday so most school age children are in class, leaving only stay-at-home moms and their young kids to roam the colorful chalk-covered sidewalks. There’s so much laughter and giddiness and joy, and-

God, you need a baby. It’s abundantly clear in the way tears spill down your puffy cheeks as you watch a little girl, no older than two years at most, give her pregnant mommy an open-mouthed kiss on the belly. A job isn’t enough anymore, not ‘holding you over’ the way you kept telling yourself it was. You crave the bond that comes with motherhood, the unmistakable features of your stature on the face of a chunky baby that you get to call your own. You want to nourish a life with your body, grow and birth and nurse. The desire practically screams for you the way you cry for it.

With a drawn-out sigh, you stand from the white wooden bench and brush the tears from your eyes, wiping the salty residue on your white skirt. It’s about an hour before you’re supposed to go on a date with John, so you decide to go back to your place and clean yourself up a bit. You can feel the dried mascara on your cheeks and you can’t imagine that you look presentable enough to even be in public, let alone on a date with your ridiculously handsome boyfriend. You trudge down the sidewalks and zone out until your hands make the familiar motions of turning your key into the lock of your flat.

You shriek at the sight of a looming figure before you, standing in the complete darkness of your unlit home, and it takes his low shushes and soft chuckles for you to realize it’s just John. You hit his chest softly, relieved giggles escaping your throat.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning in for a soft peck.

“Sorry, darlin’. Thought I’d surprise ya and show up a bit early,” he hums, large, warm hands engulfing your face as he pulls you in for a longer kiss.

You hum contentedly as his hands wander down to your waist, fingernails gently scratching the nape of his neck before you finally pull away with a dazed smile. His kisses tend to do that to you, leave you utterly speechless. You turn on the lamp that rests on your kitchen counter and before you can move to switch on the rest of the lights, John cusps your jaw firmly in his hand, dark eyebrows furrowed in concern. You yelp a little, not from pain, but surprise.

“You’ve been cryin’,” John observes, eyes scanning over your tear-streaked face now that it’s illuminated.

“It’s nothing,” you shrug with a soft grin, gently wrapping your fingers around his wrist to coax him to let go of your chin.

“It’s not nothin’ if it made you cry,” he insists, intertwining your fingers with his and guiding you into the living room.

John sits on your couch and pulls you onto his lap, rubbing away the black stains on your cheeks with a sturdy thumb. He presses another short kiss to your lips, then your cheekbone, then your forehead.

“Talk to me, love,” he whispers, gaze flickering between your quickly dampening eyes.

“It’s stupid,” you laugh. “I-I just… I miss the kids, and finding new work is difficult.”

It’s not a complete lie—you do miss keeping the children, and finding a new family to nanny for has proved to be a hassle—but it’s not the entire truth either. It’s just that you and John haven’t talked about having kids yet, or anything about the future, really. You didn’t want to scare him off with that kind of talk. The last thing you want to do is add to his already overflowing list of stresses, but he can see right through you.

“What else?” He presses, fingertips massaging your shoulders in a soothing motion.

You hesitate before sighing, shutting your eyes which only urges hot tears to spill from your waterline. John tuts, rubbing his thumbs over your eyelids to get you to look at him once more.

“Tell me,” he whispers, cradling the back of your neck in gentle palms.

“I wanna be a mom,” you sniffle, a breathy sob escaping your parted lips. “I want a baby that’s mine, not one that I just take care of for a few hours a week, mine.”

John hums, and it’s quiet for a few moments. You cry a little harder, thinking you messed up and now this man that you adore wants nothing to do with you, but your sobs are interrupted by a fit of laughter from the man whose lap you sit on. You furrow your eyebrows, hurt that he thought your confession dumb enough to laugh in your face about. Your worries cease when he nuzzles his nose against yours, peppering short, sweet kisses to your swollen lips.

“If I were a worse man, I’d dare say I told you so,” John grins cheekily, kissing away the tears from your distraught face.

“What are you talking about?” You huff, confused by his onslaught of affection.

“Don’t you remember, love? When I first met you and the little ones that day, you just had this… look about you. I could see the love, the longing in your eyes, and I asked if you wanted to be a mum.”

The memory hits you like a freight train, and you remember the way his words caught you off guard, made you stutter until you were sure you looked like a fool. You had forgotten all about it until now.

“Why didn’t you just tell me, darlin’?” His voice drops to a kind timbre, affection clear in his warm gaze.

“We haven’t even been together a year,” you frown. “I didn’t want to… y’know, scare you away.”

“Scare me away?” He asks breathlessly, his voice cracking, and if you didn’t know any better you’d assume he was in pain.

“Never. Nothing you do could ever scare me away, sweet girl. I would rip out my heart and present it to you on a silver platter if you asked. Hell, I still would even if you didn’t ask me to. Don’t you get it, darlin’? You’re my girl. I would do anythin’ and everythin’ for you. Whatever you need. Whatever you want.”

“Even a baby?” You giggle through a scratchy throat, wiping the snot from your nose with the back of your hand.

“Especially a baby,” he hums with a wide smile, and you trace the soft lines that form around his eyes tenderly.

John cups your face and pulls you in for a passionate kiss that steals your breath and all of your worries away, like he’s trying to take the burdens off of you and absorb them into himself. All he wants is your happiness, your smiles, your laughter. If he could, he would take away anything that dares make your lips twitch into something that even resembles a frown. When he pulls back, his grip on your face tightens ever-so-slightly, and his expression turns stern.

“I’m serious about you. Y’know that, yeah? Doesn’t take a year for me to figure that much out,” John murmurs, thumb tracing over your plush bottom lip. “But if you aren’t ready, or even sure that you want to be with me, then-”

“I do,” you interrupt hastily, muttering a small sorry when you see his eyebrows raise in surprise. “I do want to be with you. I’ve known that for a while now.”

“And is that because you really want me, or because I can give you a baby?” He jokes, nuzzling his face into your neck, his beard tickling your skin and making you giggle.

You tug at his hair playfully, sharp breaths heaving through your chest as you try to shy away from his relentless teasing. His movements still after a moment and he presses a chaste kiss to the skin right beneath your ear before he leans against the back of the couch. John wraps his arms around your waist and guides you to rest your head on his shoulder, snuggling into his firm body. He rests his cheek on top of your hair, hands aimlessly roaming your back.

“Marry me,” he whispers after a good moment of silence, and you stiffen.

“What?” You lift your head to look at him, eyes wide with shock.

“Marry me,” John repeats, his bright blue eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. “We want to be with each other, yeah? Why waste anymore time?”

“John, I…” you trail off, shaking your head softly in disbelief.

“I love you,” he interjects, rough fingers squeezing your waist affectionately. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s all I fuckin’ think about, darlin’. You’re all I think about.”

Fresh tears form in your eyes, and John’s heart drops. Perhaps he was the one to scare you away with his bluntness. With trembling hands, he wipes away your tears and shushes you sweetly. He thinks that being skinned alive would hurt significantly less than seeing the way your bottom lip quivers as you cry.

“I’m sorry, love, I shouldn’t have sprung that on you. You don’t have to give me an answer right now, or even at all if that’s what you want. I’ll wait as long as it takes, darlin’, I’ll-”

“Stop talking,” you sniffle, giggling under your breath as you press a finger to his lips. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

For the first time in your relationship, you see him blush, his entire face and the tips of his ears reddening rapidly. He clears his throat and suddenly he’s the one that can’t look you in the eye. You cup his bearded cheeks in your hands and tilt his head up to look at you, that sweet smile he fell so head over heels for adorning your face.

“I love you,” you confirm, and watch as his eyes glisten with unspeakable happiness.

John pulls your face down to lock his lips with yours once more, small puffs of relieved breaths mingling with your own. Your mouth has never felt softer, never tasted sweeter, never pressed so perfectly against his own. All the hell he’s been through, all the hardships he faced, the pain he’s dealt and the wrongs he’s suffered are all worth it now, with you in his arms. If it meant that you would be his every single time, he would spend every life after this one pursuing you until the end of the world.

He just wishes that time could stand still for this very moment so he can cherish it for eternity.

Next ->

[wakkass]

It's impossible to put into words how much I love designing characters, especially for AU.

Yes, I recently had an avatar AU, and I really wanted to draw Katara from there (and also Zuko). I usually draw a static pose in order to display all the details of the clothes. This is such a kind of character sheet that helps me to better imagine the scenes in my head.

If you're interested in reading about the AU itself, then there will be some information about it.

I apologize in advance for mistakes in the text, English is not my native language. But, I hope, this will not interfere with understanding.

In general, my AU concerns the ending of the series, because at some point it seemed unrealistic to me. There is too much positivity with the obvious problems of the post-military space, as well as little logic in some moments (for example, I don't understand what Zuko was doing in Ba Sing Se. Did he abandon his newfound throne to the mercy of fate with the risk of a palace coup? Did he not feel the effects of a lightning strike? The longer I think about it, the surreal it seems to me).

At some point I thought, "this is all like Aang's dream, in which everything is intentionally good. As if this is the ending he wants, but it's unattainable." And then it dawned on me. But it really looks like his fantasy about the future after defeating the root of evil. This explains why Zuko recovered so easily, why everyone is just relaxing and having fun without a drop of post-trauma. Because Aang wants everything to be so naive and simple after defeating the Fire Lord. Because he's dreaming about it.

I know this is a very hackneyed narrative technique. It's pretty easy to say "this is someone's dream" to deny any events. But I found it curious, especially against the background of the episode "Nightmares and Daydreams", where Aang's dreams already simplified the reality around him. For me, it's like a lead-up to the finale, where he actually sleeps.

You ask, "but why is he sleeping?". I also asked this question, and the answer to it killed me. Because during the battle with Ozai, when the stone hit Aang in the wound, he fell into a coma. His body was paralyzed because his brain perceived it as a repeated lightning strike, again fatal. The avatar's state was the only one that did not allow Aang to die, but only to fall into a coma. And instead of an epic battle, we have a little helpless boy spending a huge amount of energy just to maintain his life.

The second Aang collapsed, he disappeared, leaving Ozai alone with the remnants of his temporary power. And no one else saw the avatar…

I'll leave the intrigue for you about this, but for now I'll tell you about the concepts from the art.

Naturally, everyone searched for Aang, and, naturally, they did not find him. Katara and Zuko were the only ones who did not participate in the search, for several reasons:

Zuko was rehabilitated for a very long time after being struck by lightning, and Katara nursed him (I'm sure there are a lot of fics about this topic. The only difference is that there is no romance here. The focus of my AU is not on it, but on the problems of the consequences of the war). He survived, but he had major problems with his heart, digestive system and spine. Who noticed the cane in his hands? Yes, Zuko couldn't walk without it. From now on and forever. He was physically unable to leave the palace, and Katara maintained at least some of his condition.

Even after Zuko's rehabilitation, it was necessary to keep the power in his hands. Imagine what a shock the Fire Nation experienced when not just the former Fire Lord was overthrown, but the country's policy changed dramatically. Now Zuko needed to keep power in his hands and establish a new regime as soon as possible, before his opponents raised armies and people against him. This boy, who recently sat quietly at a military meeting, needed to show unprecedented strength and power to everyone: both officials sought to turn the situation in their favor, and the people who wanted stability and prosperity. But how to do this if Zuko couldn't even breathe normally, and getting out of bed required tremendous effort? It was impossible… Anyone else would have given up, but not Zuko. He has never given up without a fight and has never turned his back on danger, even if he risks dying.

It hurts me a lot for him, too. Fate has never stopped pushing Zuko against obstacles, but this time he couldn't rely on himself. He almost couldn't bend, his body almost didn't obey. He was an easy target and there was nothing he could do about it. This helplessness irritated him, saddened him, oppressed him. The only thing that wasn't broken yet was his spirit, and Zuko was barely able to maintain it in such conditions. If it wasn't for Katara, I don't know if he would have coped in the end. She was now his only support, his only ally in these cold oppressive walls, the only rational grain in his doubts.

You ask, "Where is Iroh? Where is Mai?"

Iroh, along with the White Lotus, took on a mission to liberate the Earth Kingdom from the Fire Army and establish relations with the kingdom. In fact, Iroh now shared power with Zuko: uncle was engaged in foreign policy so that his nephew could focus on domestic policy.

With Mai, everything was much simpler: after getting out of prison, she was completely disappointed in the guy who always left her. She sent him a letter, where she finally ended their relationship, and left with her family somewhere far away. Perhaps she and Zuko will cross paths again and will be able to establish a relationship. But not now.

Katara remained to help Zuko not only with treatment, but also with his policy. As a resident of an almost disappearing tribe, as well as an able leader, she helped him with projects and plans to improve the quality of life of the population and actively participates in them. She performed those missions that Zuko can only entrust to her. After all, she was a friend he could rely on and to whom he could open his feelings.

In her design, I wanted to reflect the combination of two cultures: Fire and Water. I was based on the designs of the "12 Kingdoms" (if you haven't watched this gorgeous anime or haven't read ranobe, I strongly recommend doing it. This universe is no less interesting than the avatar's world, I'm sure you'll like it), because the palace intrigues and the plot with winning the respect of the court reminds me very much of the story from there.

One day Zuko's legs finally gave up, he could not get up. All the stress he was going through was breaking his body so much that at some point the Katara's treatment stopped working.

It was a very difficult moment for both of them. Zuko has just started to promote his ideas and defend his rights to the throne, and Katara sincerely did not know what to do. If the truth about the true state of the Fire Lord had come out, all the ill-wishers would not leave this opportunity and attack, this couldn't be allowed. They urgently needed to create the appearance that everything is in order, but how?

Zuko came up with a very brazen idea. He asked Katara to use bloodbending on him to simulate walking. It was a very difficult request for her, because this skill represented the worst face of the war, it was created to torture people. And the last thing she wanted was to torment Zuko. She hesitated for a long time, he saw it, but he couldn't wait. He couldn't stop, it wasn't a luxury he could afford. Therefore, he went out, trying not to get up and move much.

Naturally, at some point his weakness was noticed at the most inopportune moment. Naturally, at this moment Katara couldn't let Zuko fall. Imperceptibly under her sleeves, she moved her friend's body like a puppet, causing him as much unbearable pain as most would not stand. But Zuko was not like that. He stood it.

It looked like this to me somehow:

They were both very depressed that day. He was suffering physically because of Katara's bending, and she could not believe that she had caused the suffering of a person dear to her. It broke and scared her, she opened the way to the Hama's madness, and was very afraid to fall into it.

Zuko assured her that it was impossible. Hama didn't have people to guide her, while Katara has friends. Maybe Zuko didn't consider himself the best moral mentor, but he promised to be there in the most difficult moments for Katara, and now he won't leave her.

This encouraged her and opened her eyes to her own cowardice. She was afraid of the darkness of Hama, and instead of curbing it, Katara hid it in herself, ignored it. And that's what it led to: the person who needed her help suffered. But she didn't want to run away anymore. She wasn't going to give up without a fight and turn her back on those who needed her.

At the beginning, Katara trained on herself, experiencing the same pain as the victims of bloodbending. Careless movement of blood through the vessels could cause internal bleeding at any time, it was very dangerous. The Hama's voice in her head pressed on her conscience, saying that innocent people felt all this pain, and only Katara was to blame for this.

Later, she learned to control the flow of water on puppets, like Hama. The point was to pass water through the threads without bursting them. Absolute control was required here, and Zuko taught her the techniques of firebending for self-control. This was necessary for Katara, because the Hama's voice in her head did not subside and did not allow her to correctly distribute her forces. It seemed like Katara was about to stumble, but Zuko wouldn't let her do it.

Gradually, Katara mastered this skill and tried to draw blood on Zuko's legs. The effect was unexpected. Her great willpower and desire to help him resulted in healing. Zuko began to feel his legs, and Katara discovered the reverse side of this bending. No, she didn't heal him completely, it's too early for him to get rid of the cane. But maybe one day she will become so strong that she can do it.

Katara realized that there was no evil magic, there was only evil intent. This was her first step towards learning to look inner demons in the face, and not to hide them in herself when it was possible to hurt others.

But what about the other design?

Katara's father sent her a letter asking her to return. Her family needed her help, because she was the last waterbender, a carrier of culture and skills, as well as a healer of a new level, the daughter of a tribal leader.

At home, everything was not the same as before, moreover, everything taked shape as a Northern Tribe. I really like the idea of the comic "North and South" about the problem of assimilation. Only here has Katara accepted all aspects of its culture, even the most unpleasant ones, and she would not give up so easily when this newfound knowledge was in danger of disappearing.

Actually, I wanted to draw her outfit of this arch. I wanted to redesign the costume for myself, because I like to do it. I kept the front strands of Katara, we don't talk much about them.

I would really like to describe the path of the rest of the team and what they do, of Aang and what happens to him. But I'm already tired of typing, and you probably read.

After all, the post is more about designs, and not about the AU itself, so the goal to reveal some of my ideas has been achieved in principle. Maybe sometime later.

Hope you enjoyed reading this :3

[petit-etoile]

i  need  you  when  i'm  falling  apart

pairing  .  ⊱   astarion x tav wordcount  .  ⊱   3,489 part one  .  ⊱   here . content warnings  .  ⊱  mentions of canon compliant temporary character death,  spoilers for act iii endgame other tags  .  ⊱   canon compliant,  character study,  introspection,  p.orn with plot,  pwp,  vignette,  re-establishing relationship,  blood drinking,  m.issionary position,  tav is gender neutral archiveofourown  .  ⊱   here .  

taglist  .  ⊱  @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia,  @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene, @lavenderslemonade, @candyladycry, @chonkercatto, @foxxyhun, @nyxmainex, @angelmawss2, @godoffuckedupcats, @raviolixxx be added  .  ⊱   here .

summary  .  ⊱   You have learned to be good. It's time Astarion learns to be forgiven.

During the heart of spring, Astarion spends more time trying to avoid you than he does trying to catch up with you. You’re not even sure why he agreed to travel alongside you  —  but you do not ask. You press your lips together and push on anyway.

His eyes are cold, and red.

The first night when you set up camp in an abandoned temple, Astarion moves his tent to the other side of the sanctuary as if he cannot bear to be around you. Like you smell. You’ve never cared much for the thoughts or opinions of others, but an inkling of self-doubt creeps back into the depths of your mind. What is the cost of being good if no one treats you kindly?

Every interaction you have with him is like pulling teeth. You want to fight for the tieflings, and Astarion wants to leave them behind. You want to help Wyll find his father, and Astarion snorts. Any good deed you suggest, he finds the need to punish.

When the cambion Raphael reaches and touches your cheek with a promise of opulence and salubrity, you're reminded of a night two hundred years ago. You stumble out of the House of Hope as fast as you can.

You don’t stop walking until daybreak. One night, you explode on Astarion. Your feelings bubble up like bile in your throat.

‘I tried to look for you!’ you snap at him. ‘You can sit here, and you can be bitter, but if I had known, I would have looked for you! But I didn’t know  —  I didn’t know and it isn’t a crime!’

Astarion’s look of surprise is one thing. He furrows his eyebrows as if properly scandalized, and his frustrated scowl turns to ash when you throw his old cravat at him. You had kept it tied around your neck for two hundred years. You wouldn’t keep it a day longer.

It’s a horrifying mistake to go wandering off in the Underdark by yourself with nothing but a hunting knife at your side, but you never really gave much thought to how you would cope with the gravity of the situation. The fact that you knew Cazador only made matters worse. You stumble past the ruins of the Selûnite Outpost in hopes of running away from your past.

You don’t run into your past in the dark, but you do run into a Spectator.

You’re immediately thrown into darkness and narrowly avoid being petrified, but you have no idea what you’re going to do about this situation besides hide beyond some poor stoned soul. You might should have considered thinking it through. You might should have thought anything through but you didn’t, and that’s the only crime you’ve committed in quite some time. It isn’t a crime is something you’ve begun to repeat to yourself often.

You manage to defend yourself for quite a while in the darkness, but by the end, you’re nursing a nasty wound and bite from the Spectator that will take some time to heal. You’re tucked under some petrified Drow bastard when you hear Karlac’s battle cry and see Gale’s ice spell come from the cliffs. The one that catches you off-guard, the one that will always catch you off-guard, is Astarion flipping through the air with nothing but an elven bow like a prince from your dreams.

Defeating the Spectator is easier with allies, and even the Drow protecting it goes down without much of a fight. You nurse your wounds as best you can, sitting against the cliffs with a bleeding thigh, and try not to frown when Astarion approaches.

‘Give me that,’ he says quietly, snatching one of Halsin’s potions from your fingers. ‘Even after all these years, it seems like you still need protecting.’

You frown and pick at your torn breeches. ‘I know how much you hate that, your honor.’

Astarion looks at you for the first time in several tendays, eyes rimmed with red. ‘I never hated it,’ he says. He dresses your wound like it pains him to see it. ‘I don’t hate it even now.’ Astarion crashes into you full force the night you arrive at the Last Light Inn after you’ve talked to Jaheira but before you’ve talked to anyone else. You’re in your room, and the next thing you know, you’re not alone.

Two hundred years of loneliness are erased at that moment.

His teeth clack painfully against yours as he shoves you into the wall, too uncaring or too pent up to care about the force. He cradles the back of your head to keep you from cracking it on the wall, but other than that, Astarion doesn’t care about hiding the full force of his strength. He kisses you until your mouth is swollen and then he’s tearing your night shirt open with both hands like he can’t get enough.

‘Astarion  —  ’ you try to say, startled.

But you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss him too. You let Astarion push you around, until you’re both stripped of your clothes and he’s lying flat on his back on the hard wooden floor with you pulled into his lap, his cock pushed deep inside you, and his hands unable to stop wandering the planes of your body. Astarion all but sobs into your mouth as he fucks you. He holds your cheeks in his hands like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

When you’re both finished, no one moves from the wood floor despite there being a bed. You lie on your side next to him, memorizing the slope of his nose while you still shiver with little twinges of pleasure still racing up your spine and between your legs. Astarion’s eyes are closed. He’s pretending to sleep, or pretending to be dead so you don’t have to talk about what’s happened, but you’re curious anyway.

You reach across the distance and touch his chest. You know there’s no heartbeat beneath his ribs, but you like to pretend. You close your eyes and dream it has been nothing but two hundred years of happiness and bliss in Astarion’s home.

‘When I first saw you,’ you say quietly, ‘I thought you were a ghost come back to haunt me.’

‘Are you often haunted by ghosts?’ Astarion asks. He still doesn’t look.

‘I’ve been properly reformed while you were away,’ you tell him. You stare at his neck. ‘There was only one ghost I was running from.’

He smiles. ‘And now you’ve found him. What do you think about this haunting?’

‘I am happily haunted,’ you say honestly. He opens his eyes then and turns toward you, lips pressed into a firm line. ‘But you are not happily haunting.’

Astarion sits up then and you follow him, legs sticky and wet. You reach for his hands and pull them into your lap. You watch as he struggles to accept a kind touch. In a way, you understand that. You remember how kindly he treated you when you didn’t deserve it. You hold his hands even when he tries to run away.

‘I was ashamed for you to see me like this,’ Astarion explains. He looks away, hesitant. ‘My condition isn’t one that I’m proud of. It isn’t fair to say I was tricked, but  —  ’

‘Wanting to live doesn’t make you a bad person,’ you say.

‘Perhaps not,’ he says. ‘But I became what I often chastised you for. I am greedy. I am prone to lying and bouts of theatrics. I’ve killed. It was embarrassing to fall so low.’

‘And now you rescue orphans,’ you say, shrugging. ‘You helped the gnomes. You helped the tieflings. You’re going to help the gnomes and tieflings again. There’s still good in you, your honor, beneath all that vampiric avarice you despair over.’

Astarion laughs and turns away from you. He’s looking for his clothes, and your heart squeezes so tightly in your chest that you move before you can stop yourself. You drape yourself over Astarion’s back and pull his arms away from his smallclothes. You can tell by the musculature of his arms that you only succeed because he lets you.

‘Please don’t leave me alone again,’ you whisper against his shoulder. Your wet eyelashes tickle the nape of his neck. ‘I waited for you that night and… I don’t want to be alone anymore.’

Astarion stays that night.

He stays every night after that too. For what it’s worth, your third visit to Baldur’s Gate is hardly better than the first two.

Between fighting cultists, saving children, and trying to convince most of your party that they’re not going to become mindflayers, you’re beginning to run a little thin. You feel like you’re going to shrivel up and die. You feel like the world is spinning and falling apart. You’ve killed Gortash and you’ve killed Orin and you killed Ketheric ages ago, but now you’re trying to keep the Emperor from betraying you and sacrificing Orpheus, and Cazador’s invitation is sitting pretty in your hands, and  —  

Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? Cazador’s invitation is in your hands, and you don’t have the heart to show Astarion. You’re afraid of showing Astarion. You know that as soon as you show him the invitation, he’ll lose his mind. You’ve only just recovered him and you’re already worried about losing him again.

You bury the invitation in the garden behind the inn like you’re a dog with a bone. You shovel the dirt with your hands until they’re cracked and raw and bleeding and the invitation is buried six feet in the ground. It should scare you that Cazador knows who you are, but it doesn’t. You aren’t stupid enough to run headfirst into his trap. And Astarion isn’t stupid either, but he’s scared, and being scared makes you do stupid things. Astarion almost does a very stupid thing like you predicted he would.

The Rite of Ascension was right there in his hands, and he had almost consumed it. You aren’t sure what changed his mind at the last minute but you’re thankful. Astarion crawls into your arms that night and sobs for hours. ‘What are we going to do about tomorrow?’ Astarion asks you softly.

He’s been tracing patterns into your spine all evening. If he moves his hands now, you’d still feel his fingertips against your skin. You’re hiding your face in your arms so you don’t have to think about it. You can’t stop thinking about it.

‘We’re going to fight the Absolute,’ you say.

‘Like it’s that simple?’

‘I am going to look another god in the face,’ you say, ‘and I am going to tell it to fuck off back to Avernus.’

‘Do Netherbrains come from Avernus?’

You don’t know. You’re too worried to think too hard about the simplest details. So far, you’re every plan has been to go in, stab whoever is the loudest, and then leave before things get worse. It’s hard to keep your head above the waves as they keep crashing down on you.

You don’t want to talk about tomorrow. If things don’t go well, you’re all going to die anyway and all that planning will have been for nothing. You turn on your side and appraise Astarion’s expression. He’s looking at you with muted disbelief. You choose to ignore it.

‘What are we going to do after tomorrow?’ you ask.

Astarion opens his mouth to chastise you for changing the subject, but he closes it almost immediately. He doesn’t want to talk about it either. It’s a scary thing to walk into the end of the world with a sword and a dagger. At least Dame Aylin will be there. You hope she can just stomp the Netherbrain to death and then it’ll all be over.

‘I could always go back to being a magistrate,’ Astarion says conversationally.

He picks at a thread coming loose on his blanket.

‘If you go back to that, I’ll go back to being a criminal,’ you muse. ‘We can have nasty sex on your desk again. You always did look damn good in a cassock.’

Astarion laughs. He laughs like the sunlight that peeks through the window on a sunny morning. He laughs like the moonlight that splays on the cobblestone of Baldur’s Gate long after everyone else has already gone to bed. It’s hideous  —  it’s melodic and intoxicating, and you reach across the distance and touch his cheek without thinking.

You slide your finger across to his nose. You press your finger against the wrinkle between his brow, and Astarion starts laughing again so you do too. You kiss him while he laughs, and then he holds you and you both laugh together. He will never be a judge again. Your connections with the Zhentarim will die out.

Astarion brushes his fingers against your hip bone. He rolls out of bed like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do, and you miss him. Already without him, the bed is much colder. You dramatically crawl across to his side and press your nose into his pillowcase to smell the faint traces of whiskey that are left.

When he returns, he presents you with his old cravat which has been neatly restored almost to perfection. He had sewn it back together himself. You had worn it for two hundred years as a good luck charm against evil, and the wear and tear had nearly torn it to shreds. You’d never had the heart to try to tailor it yourself. Sewing wasn’t your strong suit, and you had never cried over Astarion’s death until the day you thought you had lost it.

Astarion neatly ties the cravat around your wrist like a promise. He kisses your skin and inhales as though in a dream, nose brushing against the fabric, like the touch of a ghost against your veins. Your throat tightens.

‘Wherever this takes us,’ Astarion says, eyes burning. ‘I want to be there with you in the end.’

You tuck inside your bed with Astarion that night and watch the moon disappear through the window. It’s barely daylight when you’re finally too exhausted to stay awake, and Astarion almost lets you both miss the final showdown. Lae’zel, however, doesn’t. ‘I don’t mind what we do,’ Astarion is saying, ‘once we get to the  —  ’

You watch with muted horror as Astarion’s skin begins to glimmer in the sunlight. The fire begins cracking under his skin, brimming against his cheekbones and nose and throat and hair much like Karlach when she overheats. You watch as the tips of his ears ignite, and then he’s searching for you frantically between all of your friends.

‘I have to go,’ he chokes out. ‘I have to  —  ’

There is a world where you let Astarion run alone, where you both get separated on the docks and never find one another again. He runs from the sun as he bursts with radiant energy and as stars pour from his skin, you forget what Wyll is saying, and you run after him.

Astarion finds sanctuary in melting shade beneath a set of boxes. He’s curled up into himself when you arrive, and you drop next to him, pulling your cloak over your heads. He looks up at you, bewildered.

But you have lived through losing Astarion once, and it has haunted you for two hundred years. You had known loneliness and fear and anger, and the thought of surviving it for even a day more makes your stomach roll. You press your forehead to Astarion’s and stand as tall as you can so the sun can’t touch him ever again.

‘Won’t your arms get tired?’ Astarion asks you faintly.

He watches you with a sense of wonder. His skin slowly returns to normal, no more flickering stardust and ash, and you grin. He slowly smiles too, nervous but you shake your head and keep your cloaked raised.

‘Never,’ you say. ‘Not when it’s you.’

‘My reform worked, then?’ he says.

‘I’ve learned about your stuck-up decorum,’ you say. ‘It’s true. I can confirm.’

‘A sense of propriety?’ Astarion asks, and if his voice goes any softer, you’ll melt too.

‘Let me carry the weight of your sins,’ you tell him sincerely, laughing a little. ‘And if we need to find another desk then we will. But I’ll be your knight in shining armor, your honor, and carry a parasol above your head as a proper chamberlain would.’

Astarion snorts. ‘That isn’t quite the job of a chamberlain.’

You hold the cloak up for two hours at least while Astarion recovers from the damage. You can’t help but notice that he looks happy and content even in the shadows. It must be because you’re there, although you’re hesitant to take credit for all his happiness. When you let down the cloak, the sun has set. When Astarion rises, he kisses your cheek sweetly. ‘The silence stretches on  —  I’m all alone,’ you muse, ‘Please, can I hold your hands, just for a while?’

Bernard’s arms wrap around you gently, and you wrap your arms around his steel ribs. You’ve taken up residence in the old Arcane Tower in the Underdark. You appreciate the permanent nighttime, and if you admitted you only did it because Astarion wanted to be close to his family, it wouldn’t be entirely true. With a bit of help from Gale, you’ve managed to turn the tower into a comfortable fortress. Sometimes Omeluum comes to visit you. Occasionally, there’s word from Shadowheart from the Selûnite Outpost. She’s hoping to restore it. She wants you to come visit.

‘Are you still playing with that dusty old thing, my love?’ Astarion hums from the doorway.

‘You be kind to Bernard,’ you warn him. ‘He’s my friend.’

‘Of course, of course,’ Astarion says, holding his hands up. ‘I’ll be kind to the scrap metal.’

You roll your eyes and step away, touching Bernard’s chest briefly. Astarion has just arrived back from a trip. There are spawn all over the Underdark now, and they treat Astarion as though he’s some sort of prince. They heed your word too, but none so much as his. Their eldest brother, their favorite. They tolerate  you if it means getting to see Astarion.

You’re a jack-of-all-trades and master-of-none now. You leave your handiwork for the day or night or whatever it is to go down to your bedroom and recline in bed. Astarion lights each candle one by one until the room is illuminated. You smile and watch as he works.

‘Having responsibility suits you well,’ you say, resting your cheek on your palm. ‘Although it’s funny how our positions have changed somewhat.’

‘I’m the contracted killer,’ Astarion says with a laugh. ‘Are you a magistrate now?’

‘I have at least four hundred years of life left,’ you snort. ‘I, Magistrate Judge Stick-Up-My-Ass, sentence thee to fifty years of community service!’

Astarion rolls his eyes at you dramatically and throws himself into bed, kicking off his boots as he does so. He smells of fresh oils and mist. You bury your nose in his hair. You practically burrow yourself into him, wrapping your arms and legs around him like a mindflayer. You squeeze him tightly in your arms.

‘We have a sprawling manse and all you can think of to do all day is mock me for a position I have not occupied in two hundred years?’ Astarion pouts.

You kiss his hair. ‘What else should I do?’

‘Well,’ Astarion says, tone turning conspiratorial. ‘There are a certain amount of fuckable places here. Several desks, I’ve counted them all, and couches.’

You contemplate it, but after several tendays on the road and a wiggling visitor in your head, you think the bed is the best place. You pull Astarion up to kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck so he can’t leave you. You never want him to go again. You bump your nose against his and hide a smile in his coiffed hair when he melts against your chest.

You sigh prettily when Astarion takes you in your velvet sheets that you float as though in a dream. Your troubles are long over, and that person you thought you lost  —  your immortal soul  —  has returned to you as beautiful as the day you lost him. When you shudder, Astarion brushes hair out of your eyes adoringly and tastes your pulse at your jaw. You dig your fingers into the small of his back.

It’s like you’ve found a family. A very bitey, very competitive family. Still, you wouldn’t change any of it for the world. You hold Astarion’s face in your hands and see the man you knew and the man he’s become. Slowly, you pull his mouth towards your neck and feel your heartbeat jump in your chest.

He bites you for the first time that night.

[vase-of-lilies]

👉🏽👈🏽 i dunno how you feel about lactation but what about nat convincing wanda to take lactation pills so that she can nurse you when your feeling a bit smaller and she gets so happy from seeing you so close to her like that.

Mommy's New Trick

Pairing: Dark!Mommies!WandaNat x Little!Reader (f) (Nicknamed Tiny)

Warnings: Lactation, MD/LG, this is a pretty dark series, fluff, coercion, Wanda AND Nats mommy milkers, an argument, restrained stress position as a punishment, forced nudity, gagging, and some suggestive content, but fluffy all around!

A/N: A drabble for Into The Tiny Verse:) Girl, have you read my story titled Milk? I fricken LOVE lactation 😭 This is such a cute request 🥺 Ahh I love this!! And I hope YOU like this! :D Thanks for the request!

When Wanda and Natasha finally got a hold of you they were static when you finally gave in to your little side. Although it took some pushing, you finally accepted your true self. You still struggled to navigate with the two women by your side when in your big mind. They would leave you alone when you needed it, but they kept an eye on you with the hidden nannycam teddy bear on your shelf.

It was any other night and you had gotten into a fight with Wanda, shouting at her that you missed your brother and wanted to go home. Almost immediately she stripped you of your clothes and pulled you to a separate part of the cabin. Your wrists were tied together tightly behind your back and a ball gag was shoved into your mouth. Tears were inevitable, and they made a puddle on the floor beneath your body.

Wanda attached the rope to the ceiling and pulled it up so your arms were bent in a stressful position. Your shoulders were bent in the wrong way, and it felt like they would dislocate if you moved anywhere. God, your back was killing you. Being bent in half for an hour would do that to your back.

In the meantime, Wanda locked the door behind her and went to talk to her wife.

"Nat? Honey?" She asks into the cabin, and she hears a small hum in the bathroom. Following the sound, she smiles as she sees Natasha looking in the mirror addressing a black eye from a past mission. Carefully, Wanda wraps her arms around the redhead's waist and hugs her from behind.

"Did the little bugger pick another fight?" Nat asks, causing the woman behind her to nod.

"She misses Bucky," She lets out a soft sigh but continues. "I wish we didn't lie to him. I wish we just made it look like a disappearance. It would be so much easier to break the news."

"I agree, but let's not think about that right now. Thank you for taking care of her..." Nat smiles at her from her reflection in the mirror, and she turns around. "Could I ask you something?" She questions, looking down at her beautiful wife.

Nodding her head, happy to answer any questions, Wanda looks up at Nat. "Anything."

Reaching behind her, she grabs a pill bottle. "How would you feel about starting these? They would allow you to feed our little Tiny with these..." She softly palms Wanda's plump breasts and gently rubs her thumb over her perked nipple behind the fabric of her shirt.

Wanda gently puts her hand over Nats, squeezing them softly. She empathizes with her wife, understanding she can't breastfeed due to the surgery the Red Room did by giving her large amounts of milk-stopping medication. With love in her eyes, she connects her lips to Natashas.

"I- I would have to think about it... Is it temporary?" Wanda asks.

"Of course. You can take them when you want to feed Y/n, and then stop when you are wanting to stop." Nat says.

Wanda considers for just a moment and nods softly. "Alright, I would love to pipe down on those pesky bottles she doesn't like." She chuckles, her wife joining her in the laughter.

"Thank you, my love, really." Nat says, kissing her lover's forehead.

~~~~~~~

By the time the hour of your punishment was finished, Wanda had already taken the pill to start her lactation process. While she prepared your mushroom tent in the corner of your nursery, Natasha went to collect you from the darkroom (closet) you were kept in.

"Little one?" She whispers as she approaches you from behind, her hand smoothing over the skin of your ass. You jump at her touch, not expecting so gentle. A whimper escapes your gagged lips when you feel Natasha untying your wrists and helping you to the floor, your legs much too weak to hold themselves.

"Are you a hungry girl?" Your mama whispers as she cups your cheek and wipes away your tears. You nod, your time in the room causing you to turn little once again. It's fear that is your trigger. Being scared is what pushes your mind into a space that needs to be protected.

"Good girl, let's go get you some milk... sound like a plan?" She asks, and you nod again. She reaches behind your head and unbuckles the gag, pulling it from your lips. As she pulls it out, some drool drips onto your chest and Nat chuckles. "Well, let's get you cleaned up first. What jammies do you want to wear tonight?"

Only mumbles and babbles come out. "Bee-bee," You say softly as you are lifted from the ground and lay in Natasha's arms.

"You want your bumble bee jammies?" You nod at her understanding you and hide your face in her chest.

Entering your nursery, you see Wanda in the tent with your favorite toy lion. You reach for it as you whine, but Nat lays you on your bed first. "We gotta get you dressed, tiny," She smiles and boops your nose.

Now, with your black and yellow-striped onesie on, you smile as you see yourself in the mirror. The wings on the back flapping as your mommy carries you to your tent. Laying you down in your mommy's lap, Wanda holds you gently. "Are you sorry for yelling at mommy?" She asks, her voice filled with sternness and gentleness combined.

You nod as you look up at her, and whisper a soft "Sowwy, mommy, I reawwy sowwy..." Your voice is just too cute for Wanda to resist, and she kisses your forehead.

"Good girl. Now are you hungry? I could hear your tummy rumbling from all the way over here!" She tickles your belly softly, making you giggle and curl against yourself.

Once you calm down and begin looking around for your favorite bottle. Your brows furrow when you aren't able to find sight of it, Looking up at your mommy for help, she smiles and removes her silk robe revealing her beautiful, ample breasts. You tilt your head and sniffle out of boredom.

"Dinner is served, little one." Wanda says, gently leading her breast to your lips, her nipple prodding against them. You obey, pushing any questions to the back of your head. Once the milk starts to flow into your mouth, your eyes widen and you look up at Wanda again.

"Is mommy feeding you now?" Wanda says with a smile, her nails softly scratching your scalp. "Do you like that?" She looks up at Nat when you nod.

"I love this image..." Nat says, holding her fingers in a frame-like- square. Wanda laughs, and kisses your forehead once again, your hands clutching onto your little lion and your eyes closing as you doze off.

Both women could get used to this...

[inkedobsidian]

~ accidental co-parents ~

prompt: #26 “It was a joke baby, I swear.”

summary: Jin-Man is jealous that Y/N has spent her whole day taking care of Ji-An

pairing: Jeong Jin-Man x Reader

warnings: just fluff icl

word count: 870

a/n: Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas

Master-List - Prompts

It had been nearly 3 days of Y/N curled up in a chair at Ji-An’s bedside. They didn’t really know what was going on with Ji-An but the constant fever and puking just led to Y/N taking up temporary residence on the shitty chair at Ji-An’s bedside. Jin-Man did what he could, bringing coffee to Y/N every couple of hours and delivering the 3 meals they needed to eat but other than that he kept his distance.

Jin-Man didn’t realise how lonely the house would feel with the 2 of them cooped up in that room and maybe it was also the fact that because Ji-An has not been at school that he hasn’t spent anytime with Y/N. Even if they didn’t speak it was the way they existed around each other that he missed. Handing each other coffee’s without spoken words just because you know the other one.

It was almost as if she could hear him thinking about her because she was walking out of Ji-An’s bedroom holding a small damp towel. She walked in silence not wanting to wake Ji-An up but the minute she caught eye contact with Jin-Man she shot him a smile and proceeded straight to the kitchen. He decided to move from his position on the couch and towards the sink.

“Y/N L/N. Are you going to be a nurse for every generation of my family?” Jin-Man joked quietly as Y/N was rinsing the small towel with cold water, a trick to try and keep Ji-An’s temperature down. Y/N had been Jin-Man’s right hand in Babylon and she was the one that patched him up the most, from there it was so natural for her to care for Ji-An in the same way.

“At least Ji-An is a good patient. That stings… that’s too tight… can you rewrap it.” Y/N deepens her voice to mock a moaning and in pain Jin-Man earning a quick hmm from the man himself. Y/N laughed after finishing the voice and turned the tap off beginning to ring out the towel so it was damp not dripping.

“I am brilliant while in pain, I am however bored out my mind in this house alone. How fast can you cure whatever this is.” Jin-Man had opened up and started speaking more casually with Y/N the more she was around and now they’d lived together for 5 years it was like he couldn’t exist alone. Y/N tried to hide the smile on her face when he so casually says that he misses her, even if that’s not exactly what he said. Y/N couldn’t believe that Ji-An was sick and he was here being clingy and jealous, she had to try her hardest to supress a laugh.

“Is there a way to cure you of your need to bother me?” Honestly if it was any other scenario then Jin-Man would’ve known that Y/N was just joking with him but maybe genuinely missing her made him take that a little too to heart. When he didn’t say anything Y/N looked up to see genuine hurt across his face and the shock of his reaction genuinely surprised her.

“It was a joke baby, I swear.” Y/N laughed finally turning her body away from the sink and finally facing towards Jin-Man. Then it was like a second wave of shock hit him.

“Baby..?” Jin-Man repeated it because he thought he didn’t hear her correctly. Then it was time for Y/N to realise what she said, maybe sleeping in the chair was starting to make her loose it. She stood there frozen with the towel in her hands trying to look anywhere in the kitchen that wasn’t the man stood in front of her. Then she finally darted her eyes to look at him and he was there looking at her with a look she’d not seen before. There was a softness behind his eyes that was new, of course he cared for and trusted her but this was different.

It was very easy for both of them to blur the lines the longer they lived together. When you’re on missions it’s different, it’s life and death. Here in the house, taking care of Ji-An and raising her together it was domestically normal. (If you ignore the black market website they run together) Almost as if it was like fate had decided to save this conversation for another day there were small footsteps from the hallway and a very sick and nauseous Ji-An rounded the corner.

“I’ll take care of her you look like you need to sleep in a real bed.” Jin-Man whispered towards Y/N as he gently took the small towel out of her hand placing it on the kitchen side. He moved the hair out of her face and gave her a small kiss on the forehead before picking up the towel again and walking back to the bedroom with Ji-An. Y/N just stood there in the kitchen for an extra second waiting for them to retreat to the bedroom but she heard one last thing from the hallway from a very sleepy and sick 14 year old that she probably wasn’t supposed to.

“Have you finally told her you like her?”

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XIX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here PART SIXTEEN is here PART SEVENTEEN is here PART EIGHTEEN is here...nineteen...oy vey.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... THE BART RETURNS! The earth rejoices! 🥳🎉 Physical therapy can be fun, even if it usually isn't!

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny learns a few more words with practice.

Foda is simple. If Danny is hungry, he can ask for foda. It sounds exactly like food, and when he asks, they feed him.

…Or they up his IV. Which. Danny’s tongue might still feel sore and nasty, but the doctors and nurses and millions of minders don’t seem that mad when he sticks his tongue out at them. Sometimes they even laugh.

They don’t even sound all that mean.

It takes Danny a good chunk of waking time for him to realize that he…probably is hooked up to something he doesn’t want to think about, since all the efforts of lifting and moving him haven’t resulted in a single bathroom trip since he woke up here.

Firstly: horrible.

Secondly: his legs are super, absolutely, positively immobilized, and if someone doesn’t give him enough medication quickly enough after it wears off, Danny is very aware that something is deeply wrong with them.

So. Uh. That’s…gross.

He learns bealo just as quickly. He isn’t sure what bealo means, per se, but when he says it, they up his medication until Danny can pretend he doesn’t have any legs again.

God niht is goodnight, unless Danny is feeling snippy, and then it’s just niht.

…The one lady who minds him always says the whole thing, though. Even when Danny’s mean. Like the one time he threw his rocket at someone.

Or the time he started ignoring everyone when they tried to touch him.

…Or the one time he tried to freeze his IV bag, and put everyone on alert because if he’d been human, that would have seriously hurt him.

“Sorry,” Danny’d whispered, even if it wouldn’t mean anything to her.

She’d patted his hand and meant it. Danny’d had to dry his eyes with his wrist. “Eall es wel.”

Anyway.

Danny hates being in the freaking bed every hour of every day. So when his “sitting up” exercises turn into “hey, let’s try the wheelchair” practice, Danny gets so excited-slash-nervous that he kind of feels like he’s going to throw up all the liquids he’s been injected with.

None of the regular people try to lift him. Instead the lady does it herself, scooping Danny up in very strong arms, the golden cuffs on her wrists weirdly warm on Danny’s skin. When Danny’s settled, his legs sticking out real weird and his back kind of sore, he’s…out of bed.

He’s. He’s not in bed anymore.

And. Sure. It’s temporary, but it’s not the bed. Danny can wriggle, and he can sort of palm the wheels underneath him with the heels of his shaky hands, and he can see so much more of himself than he has in ages and ages.

For one. Both of his legs are in casts. That’s. Not good. He can’t feel it right now, but the sight of fully encased legs…

Well. If he can transform that won’t be a problem. If. If he has to escape. But it is…it’s super scary. He mostly remembers being captured, but the…the other people had been focusing more on his thoracic cavity and his face and head.

…So why are his legs so bad? Did something else happen?

(It did, didn’t it?)

(…Didn’t it??)

His hands shake, but there’s something to all that grip training, or else Danny wouldn’t be able to paw at his neckline to look down his own shirt. Or, well, his cloth nightie, anyway.

It’s good that he looks, since, well…his chest is glowing a solid green.

Whatever should probably be scar tissue. Uh. It…isn’t. There’re gouges down his chest and a crater where his heart should be that probably should be healing over, considering, you know, he’s not freaking dead at this exact second (mostly??), but. Instead of, like, healed flesh, or, say, his insides, there’s a transparent green…jelly… holding him together.

He can see how the green bounces with his heart beat.

...Danny drops the neckline of his gown. His breath comes in choking bursts, eyes pressed into his eye sockets—he feels sick.

He is sick. He has been sick.

The humans are keeping him here because he’s a freak of nature and he’s broken from head to toe and the Guys in White carved his flesh out of his body and opened him up like a can of cranberry sauce.

He presses his hands to his chest, to his stomach, just trying to breathe for long enough that he doesn’t throw up his oatmeal and occasional juice and IV nutrition onto the pristine floor of his sickroom. The people around him all make sympathetic noises that don’t help because he doesn’t know what they mean.

And then he feels something weird.

Not all the sensation in his fingers are back. It’s easier for him to feel impediments than it is to feel textures—something that blocks him from moving, rather than anything sensory-specific. He can usually tell when he touches fabric, because when he moves too far, it pulls tight around his hand. He can tell when he’s on something solid when his hand fails to go through it.

There is something solid sticking out of him.

Danny’s heartbeat quickens. It’s not. It’s. There’s something in him.

And it’s not—it’s so solid. When Danny brushes his hands against it, he can feel his skin and his flesh move with it, trying not to dislodge the thing embedded in him. It pulls at his skin. He doesn’t know what it is.

His fingers tremble as he tries to brush over the object through his gown, trying to figure out its shape from faulty touch alone. It’s like waking up to find himself jammed with needles all over again.

People are talking around them. Danny doesn’t try to listen in. He’s scared. He’s so scared. Something’s happened to him, and he didn’t even notice.

Some of it is—hard. There’s a crinkling sound when he moves. Danny manages to pull his gown neckline back again to catch something of a glimpse, and all he sees is plastic.

He doesn’t know what it is.

He doesn’t know who to ask. He can’t understand anyone and he doesn’t know if he trusts them.

They put something in him. There’s something embedded in him.

He thinks he’s going to cry.

Something touches his arm—Danny flinches. His core tightens with stress as he puts a metaphorical hand on the button, ready to run and hide at any notice.

It’s the lady. He knows her.

No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know her at all. He can’t talk to her in any way that matters. She’s not a doctor. He doesn’t know why she’s here, or why she’s keeping him here.

She’s nice. She fed him. But is that all it takes to trick him? To make him compliant? Pliable?

She stops touching him when he gets scared, her eyes worried. She kneels—closer than Danny would like, probably, but she keeps her hands to herself. Danny’s heart races faster, out of order, starting and stopping and starting again like a bad engine.

“Eow eart wel?” she asks from his left arm rest, a common question, so softly. Danny doesn’t know what it means. “Eall es wel. Ænlic eow, ænlic me. Bruce bræð wið me?”

She takes a big, deep, breath. Her hand rises slightly over her chest, following an exaggerated movement. Don’t panic. Breathe. Breathe like me. One, two, three.

Danny’s breaths are more choked. More panicked.

But when she breathes, he breathes with her—even with every stutter in between.

“Hwæt es woh[O3] ?” the lady asks, so gently it’s almost a whisper. Her pointer finger hovers over his body, but doesn’t touch—and eventually, Danny figures out she probably wants to know where he’s hurting.

But he’s not hurting. He’s scared. There’s something inside him, and he isn’t sure what it is. He presses the heel of his hand to the object. He feels something rigid refuse to bend inside his flesh.

There’s something of recognition in the woman’s face. “Inne cwic tima,” she says, more certain of answers outside the room, and darts away,

Danny wants to bounce his bound leg. He feels awful when anyone is in the room with him, considering how little of them he knows, but, somehow, it’s so much worse when he’s actually alone.

When she comes back, there’s a second person who walks through the double doors with her, in blue scrubs with ducks on them. They wave to Danny.

Danny…blinks. He feels numb. It’s kind of a problem.

They take it in stride, though; in their hands is a blank board and a chunky marker. The cap comes off, the new person scribbles for a minute or so, and then turns the board around so that Danny can see.

It’s a…person. A rudimentary outline person, sure, with some visible bones and organs to fill in the person-shaped outline. Danny can recognize most of them from anatomy class, although those memories are more…personal, now. A little more painful.

The person taps on the board. The person points to Danny.

Danny frowns.

The person turns the board back around and makes some Pew, Pew, Pew! sounds with their mouth, occasionally opening and closing their hand over the board to match the noise. There’s some more scribbling. When the board turns back around, there’s a violent smudge of marker on top of the drawn person’s drawn intestines.

The person takes their covered pinky finger and erases a little neat circle of marker in the intestines, mostly favoring one side. They draw a little arrow from the hole to the general outside-of-the-person blank area. Then another circle, with a thicker circle inside.

Danny recognizes the object jutting out of him. Oh. This is how he got it.

The person—probably a doctor, Danny guesses, or the surgeon who did this to him—do these people even need credentials, actually?—hands the board over to the lady. They hold out ten outstretched fingers, marker under their arm, and make a show of counting every one of the outstretched fingers with the opposite hand. Then they take the board back.

And then, when they write on the board, Danny can actually understand what they say.

Or, well, it’s numbers! The numbers are the same as his—the line and a circle is clearly meant to be a ten, and the little x is a multiplication symbol— they draw a 10, as clearly and a brightly as it could be against a stark white board, and add a little x 7, probably to indicate a week; the result is ten suns times seven, or seventy suns.

Danny feels his heart bounce in his chest. Danny would bet a whole lot of money that the number is meant to be seventy days. There is an end point. It’s not that Danny is free to be subjected to random anatomical whims—there’s a goal here. This was purposeful.

The little circle-within a circle gets erased. The hole is scribbled through as if it was never there, and the person makes a weaving gesture with the marker that Danny is certain is meant to be sewing.

Tears prick at his eyes. The lady gets close by him again, but Danny lets her. His hands aren’t good enough for wiping tears the way he wants to, yet. Help and company are good.

She gives him a tissue from Danny's bedside table. He takes it with a whisper of a grip.

“Seventy?” Danny rasps, tearful. Hopeful. Terrified of hope. He practically jams the tissue into his eye sockets.

The lady’s eyes go wide. “Seventy,” she repeats, marveling.

It’s enough. Nothing is perfect, but it’s enough. And if Danny's allowed to spend so long in front of the space window that he falls asleep in his wheelchair, well. It's not like he was in charge of where they went.

[izvmimi]

cw: for @oooohno. smoking mention. set in a hospital.

The nurses will probably make a fuss if they see the plume of smoke building in the hospital room, the Commander considers, tapping his foot impatiently as he waits for you to wake up. A few more moments pass in the quiet of the early morning, and then he caves to his own oft-suppressed good nature, cracking open a window to let in some fresh air. It’s not so early in the morning that the birds should still be chirping, but he still hears their song float through, and he lets out a sigh. 

How did the act of trying to catch a potential criminal develop such a romcom aesthetic? 

If Tashigi walked in now, seeing him reassume his position for the last half-hour, a leg crossed over a knee and reading a book, she’d think he’d softened up. She’s made enough hints in that regard, as if this arrangement weren’t simply temporary - he is simply doing his job the best way he knows how. 

You don’t usually wake up until 10am, he’s figured out by now, and he wonders if this is a side effect of the amnesia, or simply a ruse, or part of your true nature. He doesn’t know how he feels about it yet.

Then he remembers he shouldn’t have an opinion at all on the matter. 

He sighs and turns the page of his newspaper, and your eyes finally creak open. Slowly first, shuffling under the plain white hospital bed sheets, tucked in perhaps a little too carefully by an overzealous nurse, and freeing an arm to rub your eyes with. You haven’t noticed him yet. 

You continue to wake up in parts, freeing another arm and yawning loudly, covering your mouth. You stretch, and finally you turn, and your eyes widen for a moment, then soften. He’s unbothered, white smoke escaping through the corner of his mouth, waiting for you to say hello first.

You do that, without a hint of fear or surprise in your voice, something that both annoys and intrigues him. A stranger in your room, an imposing stranger, an admiral who believes you are not who you say you are (or aren’t), and you’re saying good morning as if he were an elderly neighbor picking up the mail at the same time you are.

“You ready to talk today?” he answers, making sure his tone is appropriately abrasive.

You smile instead, and the amusement in your eye exhausts him immediately.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, commander. I told you I don’t remember anything.”

He sets down his newspaper.

“You know, I could very easily continue this interrogation in a jail cell,” he reminds you.

You nod, pulling your feet slightly to your chest.

“I wouldn’t be too shocked if you did it once I got discharged from this place,” you admit, shrugging. You’re looking around the room, as if you haven’t been here for a month. By now, your injuries have healed and there is still no information on who or what you truly are, but Smoker knows one thing.

You’re damn beautiful and also potentially a nutcase.

If he had any suspicion you were a pirate or other bad actor, it’s practically gone by now, moreso by intuition than by hard evidence, but the charade still remains. Otherwise, what will he do? Hole himself in his office and find something else to do with his time? 

He has to admit, he likes tormenting you better.

“It’s a little funny to think that you guys might be afraid of me. Because even if I don’t remember anything,” you start, and chuckle to yourself, “I think I’m convinced I’m not a bad person. I don’t think I ever have been.”

Smoker lets out another puff, and you turn in his direction.

“Have you considered sharing?” you say lightly, and he blinks.

“Sharing what?”

“That,” you point to one of the cigars hanging on his person, and for a moment you think you can actually see his cheeks turn pink for just a split second. Before he can respond, you whisper a “Just kidding!” and laugh, the sound of a nurse coming in to present you with a late breakfast, interrupting whatever Smoker’s gruff retort would have been. 

Or perhaps saving him from embarrassing himself.

It seems like you like to torment him too.

[thedevilrisen]

Hospital - 4

Nova Crosby -

12:10pm

Sid's eyes watered as he read the message, and not just from the contents but also the blinding tone of the screen. Fluorescent pixels highlighted every word of the message and while he sat on the carpeted floor of the hospital lobby, Luke slouched down beside him cradled into his chest he thought back to a moment in Nova's favourite tv show. Gilmore girls, or more specifically the moment where Richard Gilmore was in hospital and he stated, 'I'd rather be in Philadelphia than here.' 'What's in Philadelphia?' Rory had asked, 'Nothing, but it would be better than being here.'

Right now, as much as the city despised him, Sidney wished he and Nova were in Philadelphia. Not in the hospital, and certainly that she wasn't in the ICU. Taking a breath and rubbing his hand up and down Luke's arm again, the fabric of his hoodie bunching with the motion.

"I'm about to tell you something that is going to hurt, like fuck." Sid mumbled, he winced at Luke's reaction, the harsh breath in which he sucked in, the grip on Sid's suit jacket scrunching just that little tighter. "Luke, Nova has had two of her three surgeries, they weren't able to get to the third one because some... complications arose."

Luke squished his eyes shut tightly to refrain from shedding anymore tears, as he waited silently for Sid to go on, waiting for the damn wall he so tenderly hand crafted to come flooding down at a mere handful of words.

"Because of this, Novs was moved to the ICU." Sid held his breath as he waited for the fiery explosion of the dropped bomb to submerge him. Sid himself wanted to do the least adult like thing and stand and scream, it's not fair, she doesn't deserve it. Yet, holding it together for Luke, he sat silently, waiting.

"What, do we do now?" Luke choked out horsley, Sid watched as every fibre of the young boys being strained to keep him some resemblance of a man, normal. But wasn't an inconsolable, heartbroken, barely hanging on boyfriend the norm in this situation?

"Well, they told me in the message that there is an intensive care waiting room up on floor three, outside ward three A. If we go and wait there, then a nurse will come and take us in to see her." Sid watched the understanding slowly dawn on Luke's face, viewed the moment it clicked in the young boys head. He could see her, but there were conditions, those conditions required a certain amount of cooperation from his brain and limbs.

"So we go to floor three, then." Luke stated with finality, his grasp on Sid's now wrinkled blazer loosened as he fought his way into a standing position, using the wall and somewhere in there, Sidney's head for leverage. Choosing not to comment, Sid also rose from the ground. Smoothing his suit out of habit.

Both men stood and looked at each other momentarily before Luke meandered to the horridly patterned excuse of a chair he was sitting on. He picked up the brown paper bag which housed the once warm banana bread and creased it to peek inside, poking at the now cold, doughy probably exceptionally buttery loaf Luke couldn't bring himself to eat anymore.

"Any good?" Sid asked, taking the bag which sat loosely in Luke's hand and peeking inside.

"No better than yours." Luke managed, a forelong smile gracing his lips. Thinking once again back to the times when Nova and the two of them spent time in the kitchen throwing flour at each other and eating Sid's banana bread when it was still a little too hot fresh out of the oven.

Watching as the shadows of good memories flash through Luke's features he took the opportunity to make the most of this temporary mood lift. Together with some uhm-ing and ah-ing Sidney led himself and Luke down some corridors they didn't need to and others that finally led them to the Intensive Care waiting room. It was small with a mini fridge and a snack bar, three couches and a window which led to shrouded darkness outside.

Sitting down on individual couches, watching the black industry standard phone and waiting for it to ring felt like torture, knowing that Nova was on this floor, alone and probably scared was killing them both. More so Sidney as this was everything he vowed never to happen, he was supposed to be the one to silence all fears and cradle her throughout the storm. The parental guilt, reflection and utter terrible sinking feeling in his gut all continued to pile.

1:02am

Both men, even while concerned were struggling to keep their eyes open, both the emotional toll and physicality of Sid's game was catching up. Yet still the phone sat silent, the fact that nothing had been passed on only meant one thing. Bad.

When the phone broke them out of their mopey, stupor by piercing the wretched silence with its call Sid reached for it, holding the receiver to his ear.

"Sidney Crosby speaking."

"Mr. Crosby, I apologise for the wait, we had some further complications moving your daughter into the intensive care unit, however we have her out of an unplanned surgery now, she is being moved as we speak. I will prioritise having a nurse come and collect you shortly."

All Sidney heard, and Luke heard from leaning over was unplanned surgery.

A corresponding thought ricocheted throughout their minds.

What the fuck went wrong.

[dyinglikenarcissus]

The Help

I kinda hate this title but it was inspired by the movie and I couldn’t make my brain think of anything else

Lee Bodecker x his black female maid reader who is way overqualified for the job

14k words

Warnings: 18+ only!!! Contains: mommy and daddy kink, a bit of breeding kink, smut, protected sex, unprotected sex, and here’s the big one: there’s one ‘negro’. It’s a period fic and a sign of the times so there you go. You’ve been properly warned. Consume at your own risk.

Please don’t copy or repost my work, thanks! Plagiarism is rude

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated ☺️

————————————————

“Lee! This place is a fucking mess!” Sandy calls as she steps into her brother’s house.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do about it?” Lee grunts back from the staircase, cigarette hanging from his lips as he pulls on his jacket.

“It’s embarrassing! You’re the sheriff. You live in sty,” she sighs picking up a shirt from the floor. “Really?” She asks holding up the garment. “Do you expect mom to get up out of her grave and clean up after you?”

He just ignores her continuing to the kitchen to make a sandwich.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Hard not to,” Lee mutters.

“These ash trays haven’t been emptied since the last time I came over. And what’s with all these wrappers?” Sandy brushes a pile of candy wrappers into an overflowing trashcan. “Why don’t you hire someone?”

“Ain’t nobody got money for that,” Lee replies into his sandwich. He had to avoid three slices of moldy bread and all he had was cheese and mayonnaise in the fridge. He’d just grab something else on his way to work.

“You have a Cadillac and Lincoln and if you had someone cooking for you, you wouldn’t spend so much at the diners and drive ins.” Lee continues to ignore her to grab a Coke from the fridge. “What are you saving all this money for? Hoping one of those hoes you fuck around with will show up with a kid?”

“God, I hope not,” Lee sighs. Maybe he should hire someone. Be nice to have a home cooked meal. Not just add to the mess anymore. He could use a woman’s touch around here…

“You know someone?” He finally asks, a lazy drawl in his voice as he levels his gaze with his sister.

She just smirks back at him. “A friend of mine’s sister is looking for work.”

“Friend of yours? You got shitty friends, Sand,” Lee goads.

“She’s a friend from work,” Sandy explains.

“‘Nother waitress?” She nods. “And it’s her sister?” She nods again. “Ever met her?”

“I have. She comes around the diner sometimes. She’s nice. Educated. She just graduated from college.”

“Why the hell she want to be a maid?”

“She moved back here to take care of their mom. It’s temporary. Until you finally find a wife that can take care of you.”

Lee let’s out an exasperated huff. “Send her over Monday morning.”

Sandy grins triumphantly. “You’re gonna love her.”

“Whatever,” Lee grumbles and lights another cigarette. “Get out of my house. I gotta get to work.”

The next Monday, you stand waiting on an unfamiliar porch in a starched blue dress with a canvas bag of cleaning supplies. You were desperate for anything at his point. Meade was a place you hoped you never had to return to. After you got accepted into Spelman you kissed this place goodbye and refused to look back.

Then your mom got sick your senior year.

So you started to spend your summers out here instead of having fun with your friends. And after graduating nursing school, instead of taking an offer from a innovative hospital with competitive pay in San Francisco, you were stuck back in your backwards home town that still had signs for ‘colored’ and ‘white’ over the water fountains.

There wasn’t a position for a black nurse here. They’d let you work as a custodian but they “didn't have a place for a woman of your stature”. The ‘black’ hospital was thirty minutes away and they couldn’t afford to take on anyone else. They could barely afford their skeleton staff alone. Unless you wanted to work for free with an hour long commute, you were stuck either cleaning or waiting tables or stocking groceries because this place was stuck in the 1800s!

“It’s just for now,” you remind yourself under your breath. Just until you could convince your mom to move to California with you. Your sister has two kids and a full time job. She can only help her so much. So you turned down that job to take care of her. She’d have better care in a bigger city. A better life in general. But old people are reluctant to change. It’d take some time to convince her but you refuse to waste away in this hell hole with the worst people in America.

You’ll have an apartment overlooking the water and be working at a cutting edge hospital by next summer.

“It’s just for now,” you repeat. You hear a heavy set of footsteps approach the door.

Your sister said he was the sheriff. Her coworker’s brother. Figures in Meade County that the sheriffs’s sister would be a waitress and not a lawyer or a politician or a doctor or something more prestigious. You roll your eyes that you’ll be working for the man that continues to enforce Jim Crow after it’s been deemed unconstitutional.

You just hope your mouth can keep in check.

“It’s just for now.”

The door finally opens revealing a wall of a man. You look up to see him dressed in a grey button up stretched over a bit of pooch, stubble forming on his cheeks from not shaving that morning, perfectly cropped dark hair, and a gorgeous set of blue eyes. Sandy’s eyes weren’t nearly as bright.

A small smirk forms on his lips as you stare up at him.

“You the cleaning girl?” He drawls, watching you stare at him dumbly.

“Uh, yeah,” you whisper. “I mean, yes,” you respond a little more confidently. “Yes, sir, sheriff, Mr. Bodecker...”

He lets out an amused noise at your flustering. “Just Lee’s fine. Come on.” He nods toward the house, leading you in and you notice you have your work cut out for you. “You got a name?” You nod and introduce yourself. “You cook?”

“I can cook,” you agree. Your family likes your cooking enough.

“You know anything about gardening?”

“Like a vegetable garden?”

“Yeah. I’m looking to start one. It’d be nice to have some help.” You just nod again not looking forward to getting dirty but your dad taught you some things about flowers while he was still alive.

“I’ll have you make three meals a day. I can offer $5 an hour, five days a week. That sound alright?”

That’s perfect! Plenty to help you save, buy a car, get a home in California. You just nod, attempting to not look so eager.

“Alright. It’s a fucking mess around here so you have your work cut out for you. I work ridiculous hours so i ain’t home a lot. I’m just gonna trust you to find something to do around here.” You nod as you follow him around the house. Two stories, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, the kitchen could use more than a little organizing, and the bathroom looked like it requires a hazmat suit to take care of. “As you can see, you’ll have plenty to do. I’m not a tyrant. I just expect mutual respect.” You nod again as he stops in the kitchen. “Alright. It’s my day off so I’ll be around if you have any questions.” You nod again.

Then he leaves you alone.

Alright. Where to start?

“Oh! Have you had breakfast?” You call after your new employer on his way upstairs.

“Sure haven’t. That’s your first assignment.” You smile and look through the refrigerator for breakfast food.

You step into your crowded mother’s house after a long day of cleaning and cooking to find her in her favorite chair listening to the radio while your sister’s kids chase a ball.

“Will y’all take that outside before you break something?” You scold.

“Leave those babies alone. They aren’t hurting anyone,” your mother laughs weakly.

“You are so much softer on them then you were on us,” you lament walking over to press a kiss to her forehead.

“How was your first day?”

“It was fine. He seems nice enough. Kept to himself mostly but he gave me a key for tomorrow because he doubts he’ll be back home when I’m off.”

“What’s the sheriff’s house like?” She asks ready for all the gritting details.

“It was a mess in there, momma! I’m tackling one thing at a time. It’s nice but I don’t know, I expected him to have one of those plantation homes passed down since the 1800s,” you joke.

“Well, he ain’t a real white.” You cut your mother a look at her statement. She can’t end with that. “His momma immigrated here.”

“Really?” Your mom knows all the good gossip.

“One of those little European countries. There’s a million of ‘em. She was pregnant with him when she showed up and got pregnant with his sister a couple years later. Never did marry. Never did know who the girl’s father was.”

“What’d she do out here?”

“You know I hate to gossip.” Liar. But you don’t say it out loud. “No one ever saw her going to work but folk would see her coming home early in the morning if you follow.”

“Ohhhh,” you laugh at the scandal. You began to wonder how an immigrant became the sheriff in this small town. He was elected while you were in Atlanta so you had no idea that he even existed.

Interesting situation.

“But that was all speculation. Don’t go spreading that around, you hear?”

“Yes, momma,” you smile while rolling your eyes. “I’m gonna start dinner, alright? How’s gumbo sound?”

“Oh Lord, girl! What d’you know about gumbo?” She laughs herself into a coughing fit.

You hand her a handkerchief and rub her back until it passes. “I know plenty, momma. Been in Atlanta for the past six years.”

“Alright, girl. You go on ahead,” she smiles skeptically making you giggle.

You go to start dinner for the house and hope Lee enjoyed the dinner you made him.

Soon your sister come home and shortly afterward her husband and it was a full house. It was noisy and crowded and you never missed your little apartment more than you did in the evenings.

At least you didn’t have to share a room with anyone. It may be small, basically a refitted pantry, but it was private.

You finally retreat to your room alone after showering and wrapping up your hair. You let out a soft sigh as you fall onto your bed. You curl under your covers, exhausted but a little restless for some reason. You aren’t sure why. You should fall asleep the second your head hits the pillow. You know you’re going to be so sore in the morning after today but you can’t settle down.

You jiggle your leg in frustration.

You know what will help you sleep…

You hate doing this in your mother’s home. It was so much easier when you had your own place.

But you need some sleep.

You slip your hand under your night gown. You easily find your clit and apply a little pressure. You bite your lip and let out a soft moan as you let your imagination run wild. Normally you imagined Sidney Poitier or Paul Newman having their way with you but tonight a new face entered your mind.

Oh no.

Brain! No!

Not him! He’s your boss! You whimper at the idea of wanting to fuck the giant man. Stop…

But it felt so good. It was so easy. The idea of his big hands all over you, his lips pressed against your skin.

You let out a quiet whine as you cum far too quickly.

This is bad. This is so bad. But you did manage to relax yourself. You were too tired to overthink it. You’ll figure it out in the morning.

But you didn’t figure it out in the morning. You made Lee his breakfast and sent him off to work before eating something yourself and tackling another mess in his home. You didn’t see him much after your first day. Just in the morning as he got ready for work and, as promised, he normally didn’t make it home in time to see you off. But you kept yourself busy and before you knew it your weekend came. You enjoyed time with your family, took a bus to the city with your mother and sister to shop, went to a movie with some childhood friends, and ended it all with church on Sunday.

And not once did you think about how you got off to the image of your boss. It went to the back of your mind where it belonged and didn’t resurface until early Monday morning.

You let out a soft sigh as you step into Lee’s house. All those images of him unwillingly flood back into your brain as you see him leaning over the kitchen counter looking over the newspaper. His cigarette hangs from his mouth precariously. His weekend clothes are a far cry from his work ensemble. So loose with a slight hint his preferences. You guess his favorite color is red since he owns so many button ups and polos in varying red tones. He also has a collection of colorful socks. They all have interesting patterns and designs. You enjoyed looking at them while folding his laundry.

“Morning,” he greets breaking you from your trance.

“Oh! Good morning,” you squeak in surprise. You hope he didn’t notice you staring.

“Didn’t startle you, did I?

“Yes! I mean no. I mean I don’t-”

“It’s alright,” he chuckles. “It’s early.”

You just nod, taking the out, and place your bag on the table by the door. “What would you like for breakfast this morning?” You ask redirecting your very explicit thoughts.

“I saw you got some thick cut bacon at the store,” he trails expectantly.

“That was meant to be a surprise,” you smile.

“You should’ve hid it better,” Lee grunts.

“Coming right up,” you laugh and head into the kitchen. Lee has Mondays off strangely enough. You think he also has the weekend off. It was odd that he wanted you around on his day off but you did your best to stay quiet and out of the way. It helped that he spent his time outside mostly, working on his garden and mowing the lawn.

He came in a little before noon asking about the lunch you were plating.

“Looks good. Thank you.” You just nod in response as he takes his plate to the dining table leaving you to eat at the kitchen bar.

“You gonna join me?” Lee calls after a moment.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t-“ you start but he reappears just to grab your plate and place it next to his. “I really couldn’t,” you try to explain but he just pulls out the chair next to his and waits for you to sit.

“We can stand here all day staring at each other but I know you’re hungry,” Lee goads when you refuse to budge.

“Fine,” you sigh and roll your eyes.

“See? Ain’t this nice?” Lee laughs while pushing in your chair after you reluctantly sat. You attempt to eat in silence, making yourself as small as possible but the sheriff has other ideas. “My sister said you went to nursing school?” He asks braking your concentration on your green beans.

“Yeah. Um, I graduated from Spelman in Atlanta.”

“Smart girl,” he deduces. “What are you doing cleaning up after me?”

“My mom got sick and there’s no place for a black nurse around here.”

He hums softly in response. “You been to that hospital?” You shake your head softly. “I’d prefer it if you were working there than half those nurses. Some of the meanest women I’ve ever met.” You giggle. “Last time I went in there I swear this woman had never seen a patient in her life. She jabbed me three times to try to get my blood and acted like it was my fault. Ain’t that the first thing y’all learn?”

“Not the first thing,” you smile. “But it’s pretty high on the list.”

“Well, I don’t want you to leave me but I can put in a word for you. Just so there will be someone that can properly draw blood.”

“How do you know I can draw blood?” You smile jokingly.

“You could be worse than that woman but at least you’d be nice to look at.”

“Mr. Bodecker!” You gasp with a smile.

He just smirks back at you. “And what did I tell you about that ‘Mr.’ Shit?”

“Calling you ‘Lee’ is…weird,” you explain shyly glancing away.

“Well, calling me ‘Mr. Bodecker’ is even weirder. Call me fuck face before you call me that.” You can only laugh at his antics, covering your mouth with you hand as you giggle. “Got it?”

“Yes…Lee,” you respond through your laughter.

“Good girl.”

Those word haunt you for the rest of the day and all the way back home. You walked right past your mother with the briefest of greetings on your way to your room. There was left over spaghetti from the night before for dinner so your didn’t have to worry about cooking. You just need to get to your room. You just needed a minute.

Maybe five.

Your hips desperately rocked into your fingers as you think of those two simple little words. That drawl around them. The smirk on his lips as he said them. Fuck! You want to be his good girl forever. It felt so good to be good for him. You whimper into your pillow as you cum around your fingers, soaking your hand. A soft curse escapes your lips. You wish it was Lee’s hand. Lee’s mouth. Lee’s cock…

“Shit.”

This really isn’t good.

Your contact with Lee is minimal for the rest of the week but it all just seems to get worse. The lingering smell of his cologne, the feel of his clothes, his presence left in his house. It’s all so intimate. You can hardly stand it!

Weeks pass like this. You living absolute torture by a man who had no idea what he was doing to you.

Until there’s a lull in one of your days and you hear the strangest noise coming from outside.

You were dusting the selves around the living room when you heard crying outside. It must just be a neighborhood kid but you investigate anyway. When you deduce that it’s coming from the backyard you stick your head out the back door tentatively. Maybe the back neighbor? But it’s coming from a bush…

Maybe the tiny borrower neighbors…

Your speculation that it’s just the neighbors is getting slimmer and slimmer.

You squat down to see under Lee’s freshly planted ground covering and notice a little white ball of fur.

“Oh?” A kitten. Barely even had it’s pretty little blue eyes open. When it sees you, it’s crying gets louder and it toddles its way toward you. “Oh, poor baby. You crying for your momma?” It makes its way to your out stretched hand and continues to scream. You better not mess with it. It’s mom will be back.

Your work day was over two hours later and the screaming has continued nonstop. You find an old sheet and make a little bundle for the baby, a cup full of milk, and your left over turkey from lunch and take it outside. It seems like it could just start eating solids as it gnaws on the turkey slice and happily laps up the milk. “There,” you sigh contently as the kitten stops crying and curls on the makeshift bed you made it. “God, I can’t leave you out here.” You were sure the night time animal activity was pretty minimal but anything was a threat to a kitten this small. And you really can’t bring it home…

You hear the front door open and stiffen. Was it already that late? It takes him a moment to walk out on the back patio but you can’t help but notice the relived look on his face.

“You still here?” You nod and open your mouth to explain but he sees the kitten before you can start. “Where’d that come from?”

“It was in the bushes. I just found it today.”

“Well, bring it in and get it cleaned up. I’ll see if I can find some proper bowls.”

To your surprise, Lee kept the cat overnight.

And when you opened the door the next morning, it stumbled over to you greeting you with a loud meow.

“I told you your momma would be back,” Lee rumbles, his voice is still rough from sleep, coming down the stairs in just a plaid pair of sleeping pants and white tank top. There’s a prominent outline where his cock is and you practically start drooling. You’ve never seen him like this. You want more.

“She’s been crying for you all night. Get her something to eat, will ya?”

“Her?” You ask, shaking yourself from your sex crazed stupor.

“Yeah ‘her’! You gave the little tyke a bath and didn’t notice her lack of balls.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper behind a giggle. Lee disappears back upstairs to finish getting ready while you make breakfast for him and the kitten.

“What are we naming her?” Lee asks, stepping into the kitchen with much more clothes on to your disappointment.

“We?” You ask lifting an eyebrow while you stir grits.

“Yes, momma, we. The kid gotta have a name.” Your face heats at him calling you the kitten’s mom.

“Does that make you her dad?” You smile and place a bowl in front of him as well as a plate of scrambled eggs.

“Kid needs a father,” Lee smirks.

“How about ‘Baby’?”

“Baby, huh?” The sheriff laughs.

“Too simple?”

“Nah, she’s got a ‘Baby’ about her. Definitely gonna be a stripper.”

You laugh softly at his teasing. “Well, what do you suggest? Lee Jr.?”

“Nah. Baby’s good,” Lee grins and starts to eat his food. “So, you got a boy?”

“A boy?” You question placing a bowl of canned tuna in front of Baby leaving her to meow happily and make a mess around her, getting more food on the floor than in her mouth.

“Don’t make me ask you twice?” Lee warns.

You let out a soft sigh. “No. I don’t have a man or a significant other.” He just hums in response, focusing on his eggs. “Do you have a girl?”

“I have you.” You can’t stop your laughter at his statement.

“You don’t have me,” you deny, with a smile.

“Don’t I?” Those bright blues meet your gaze and hold it for a moment. You bite your lip softly wanting nothing more than to be his but you aren’t giving in without a fight. He probably feels so good. His lips probably feel like heaven and he must be amazing to cuddle with. A strong warm body to wrap yourself in. You wish you had him every night. That you could wake up to him every day.

“Even if I don’t have you,” Lee starts again and breaking the spell between you, “I know how to get you to come running to me.”

“How’s that?” Your words come out in a soft whisper. It honestly wouldn’t take much. All he’d have to do is ask.

He gives you a once over from the other side of the kitchen island. His blue eyes gauging you before he answers. “I have your Baby.” You burst into giggles at his words. He’s such a flirt.

“I need to get to work. Watch our little girl for a minute. Daddy,” you add. You can practically hear him purr at the word.

Two can play at this game.

As the weather gets warmer, the days get longer, the less you see of Lee. You make him his breakfast before you leave the night before because he leaves for work early and still gets home late. You watch Baby grow during the day while he watches her at night. The only time you get to talk to him are Mondays and sometimes he still goes into work so you don’t get any quality time.

You miss him.

You miss him immensely.

You sigh while you play with Baby. An old bowtie that Lee got as a gift decorates her neck while she leaps after a ribbon.

“How’s your daddy doing, little girl?” You ask the kitten while she plays. You notice her freshly brushed fur and trimmed nails. He takes such good care of his little girl.

You’ve gotten Lee’s house to the point that basic upkeep was all you needed to do. It left you with a lot of down time. You let Lee know that you weren’t doing much besides fixing his meals but he still wanted you around. So you kept yourself busy. You organized his clothes, cleaned out his garage, and your next task was the basement. The place was full of old stuff left over from when his mother was alive apparently. He explicitly told you to ‘throw all that old shit away’ but it had to be sentimental. He had a reason to keep it at one point. You plan on meticulously going through the boxes, getting rid of moth eaten things, and organizing whatever photos and documents you find. You just felt a need to preserve that for him. Maybe it was because your ancestors were a mystery. Maybe because your history was stolen from you.

You just didn’t want that for anyone else.

Baby follows you down into the dim underbelly of the house. There were boxes stacked on boxes stacked on boxes. You definitely had your work cut out for you.

You get so lost in your work, you almost forget about Lee’s dinner. The only thing that reminds you is Baby crying for her lunch. You quickly run upstairs to make a quick gumbo that you can leave simmering while you go back to work.

You come across a box full of old photos that obviously weren’t taken in America. This must be Lee’s family. There’s a woman that jumps out at you in a lot of them. She looks so much like his sister. This must be their mom. She’s beautiful.

You find a smaller box and place all the photos in it carefully. You’ll sort them later. You fill another box of stained and damaged clothes and tug it toward the stairs. You might have to have Lee haul it to the trash for you.

“You still here, momma?” Well, speak of the devil. Baby goes running to greet her father

“I’m down here, Lee,” you call up the basement stairs. Lee’s form fills the door at the top of the steps and you let out a relieved sigh.

“What’re you still doing here? It’s late,” Lee sighs descending the steps to you. He’s in his full uniform. You can see how he’d be so intimidating out in the world. He such a big man.

“It is?” You whisper in embarrassment. “I got kinda distracted.”

He glances around at the meticulous organizing you’re doing before leveling a hard gaze on you. “I told you to throw it out. Not create a bigger mess.”

“You can’t just throw it all away, Lee. I’m sure some things are sentimental,” you insist.

“I can do whatever I want! It’s my house and I want it gone,” Lee frowns at you. You take a frustrated breath and cross your arms. He gives you an amused look. “Are you sassing me?”

“I don’t know, am I?” You counter, pulling your lips to the side, unimpressed by all of it.

“Why can’t you just throw it away?”

“Because I don’t want you to miss it,” you argue placing your hands on your hips.

“Why would I miss it? It’s just a bunch of hoarded garbage.”

“What if your kids want to see it? Or your sister’s kids?”

“They will never see that.” He glares at you resolutely. There’s finality to his statement but you’re far from done with this argument.

“But, Lee-“

“That’s enough. Get your butt up those stairs. We’re gonna eat and then I’m taking you home.” You let out a disgruntled huff and press passed him. He grips your elbow, halting you in your tracks, and pulling you back towards him. If you weren’t so frustrated with him, you’d be a flustered mess from being this close but right now you just want to knock some sense into him.

You frown up at him, his icy gaze searching yours, waiting for you to break under is scrutiny but you refuse. You’re too feisty for that. He had every intention on telling you to watch your mouth, fix your attitude, that he’s the one in charge around here. But he knows all that is a lie. There’s no arguing with you and you’ve been running this place since he brought you home. Lee finally sighs before releasing you.

He can control you about as much as he can control Baby.

“Let’s just eat something and calm down, alright? I miss seeing you. I don’t want to spend the evening arguing.” You blink up at him. You could just go home. You don’t have to stay.

But you miss him, too.

You nod once and head upstairs. You call home to let your mom know you’ll be late before setting two places at the table while Lee changes up stairs.

It’s a tension filled dinner full of clipped responses and frustrated eye rolls, mostly on your end. To Lee’s credit, he’s making every effort to be civil. You’re just being stubborn for a future you have no real vested interest in. You finish your food with Baby curled on your lap, completely oblivious to the tension between her parents.

Lee gets up and starts clearing the table. You start to get up to help him but he just presses a hand to your shoulder. “Sit. The baby’s sleeping.” You smile up at him and settled back down while he cleans the kitchen. Your fingers stroke Baby’s soft fur. She looks so comfortable. You can’t help but close your eyes as well, leaning back in the chair comfortably.

You didn’t even notice that you fell asleep until you awaken in Lee’s arms. You gasp, jerking in his grip making him chuckle softly.

“Calm down. You’re alright.” You settle back into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his shoulders comfortably.

You’ll let him take you wherever he wants like this.

“I’m still mad at you,” you mutter, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“I know.” He lowers you onto a bed. You instantly recognize the floral comforter of the spare bedroom bed. Baby happily curls up near your head while Lee sits on the side of the bed. “We’re not supposed to go to bed angry,” Lee smiles down at you as you watch him. He presses a loose strand of hair from your face.

“I’m not the one not making any sense,” you yawn, stretching across the bed to get comfortable.

“Alright. Can I explain?”

“It’s your house,” you parrot.

Lee holds his tongue but he wants to tell that mouth of yours off so bad. Then he wants to kiss it until you can’t think straight…

“No one can see that stuff, momma.”

“Why?”

Lee groans at the thought of even needing to explain it. He scrubs his eyes but your stare is unwavering, giant brown orbs waiting for a good explanation.

“It’s easier to just integrate, to forget that I’m from somewhere else, than to be an immigrant.”

“Is that right?” You smirk, completely unimpressed. “Must be nice.” You roll away to face away from him, staring at the wall.

“Look, I don’t,” Lee groans, frustratedly. “I didn’t choose this. My mother never even taught me Romanian. She never talked about it. Never once mentioned my father. She wanted us to be American. Nothing else. She wanted it to be easier for us.” You roll your eyes at the idea. The ridiculousness of it all. “I know you can never take off your skin color. It will never be easier for you. But I can help. I want to help.”

“Do you have any idea what I would give to know where I came from?” You whisper, tears stinging your eyes. “And you just want to throw that away?” Your voice breaks at the last word.

“Hey,” Lee soothes, pulling you to his chest. “You know this world we live in. You’re either white or nothing.”

“The world won’t always be like this, Lee!” You cry, pressing away from him.

“I hope to God it won’t. But for right now, everyone else need protection. I just don’t want you to be hurt. I don’t want anyone to be hurt.”

Tears spring from your eyes. “It’s all so stupid.”

“I know.” Lee pulls you into his arms as you cry into his shoulder. “It’s ridiculous. I hate it. I hate it so much.” He holds you while you cry, rubbing your back and pressing kisses to your temple. You eventually sniffle and start to calm down.

“You still mad at me?” Lee mutters, squeezing you a little tighter.

“No,” you grumble. You’re mad at the entire situation but you can’t stay mad at Lee. Lee just hums and continues to rub your back.

“Stay here tonight.”

“Oh no! I can’t! I should really go home,” you trail.

“That wasn’t a question. You’re gonna stay right here. I need you close.”

“My mom will throw a fit,” you warn.

“I’ll explain it all to her,” Lee smiles watching you. Pinning you under his pale gaze.

“You’re going to explain how a single man and a single woman stayed in a house together and nothing happened?” You laugh darkly as you rub at your swollen eyes.

“I don’t mind bending the truth for you,” Lee smirks. “Besides, it won’t be a lie if you stay in your room and I stay in mine.” He pulls one of your hands from your face to rub the back of it with his thumb.

“What if I have a nightmare?” You whisper.

“Well,” Lee clears his throat and the most naughty look crosses his features, “you can always come tell me about it.” Lee’s hand slides from yours to grip your thigh. “You know where everything is.”

You smile up at the man and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “Goodnight, daddy.”

“Goodnight, momma.” He pats Baby on the head before leaving the room.

You take a calming breath and settle into the loaned bed before picking your way to the guest bathroom to get cleaned up. You find a set of pjs Lee left for you on the counter. You’re absolutely swimming in the shirt and the pants won’t stay on your hips so you forgo them but they’re so comfortable and smelt of him.

There was so much of him in this house.

You sigh softly and curl around Baby but sleep is fleeting in the unfamiliar environment. You try to be good and stay put. You really do. But thirty minutes into your attempt, Baby gets up and starts scratching at the closed door. You call her back to bed but she just ignores you so you get up to let her out and watch her trot right up to Lee’s door to start scratching there. She must miss sleeping with her daddy.

You probably would, too.

You were sure he’d hear the little kitten whining outside of his door, but when he doesn’t answer you go to let her in. You start with a tentative knock before opening the door to his call.

Lee’s sitting on his bed in just his boxers, a lit cigarette in his hand. You know you should be more flustered but your body moves all on its own. It knows where home is. Lee doesn’t even say a word. He just opens his arms and accepts you into his lap as you press kisses to his lips. A bit chapped and he smelled of smoke but you knew you were right where you need to be.

“Nightmare?” Lee smirks as you pull away for air.

You smile and shake your head. “Your little girl missed you.”

“Can’t fuck with her routine.” Lee pulls you back into him. You didn’t know how much was actually wrong until you felt this right. Strong arms wrapped around you, cradled so delicately against a warm body. Your fingers cling to Lee’s shoulders while his hands encircle your waist. “Stay with me?” This was a question. A request really. One you can’t say no to. You nod once and curl back into him. He pulls you down into the bed, holding you tightly against him. Lee takes a last drag of his cigarette before putting it out and focusing solely on you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you in my bed,” Lee sighs, pressing his face into your shoulder. His stubble tickles your skin so pleasantly making you smile. You probably have an idea but you keep that to yourself as one of your fantasies plays out.

Here, comfort is easy to find. It feels right, smells right. It’s better than your own bed. Baby curls up on the pillow behind you. Her soft purrs lulling you as Lee strokes to back of your neck, his fingers tracing the top of your spine, exploring just a little under your borrowed shirt. Just enough to keep you warm and close. You let out a soft content sigh and fall asleep almost instantly.

Waking up is hard. You don’t remember sleeping so deeply. You attempt to detangle yourself from the unfamiliar sheets before you feel a body behind you. The events of the previous night flood back to your mind as you stretch and yawn. “Lee?” He hums softly, thwarting your attempt to sit up as he immediately pulls you back down against him.

You smile at his stubborn tiredness. “We have to get up.”

“We’re playing hooky,” he mumbles.

Hooky? Is the sheriff allowed to just take the day off? “What about me?” You laugh tiredly.

“What about ‘we’re’ don’t you understand?” Lee grumbles.

“Are you sure?” You ask in disbelief.

“Go back to sleep, momma.” Getting some extra rest did sound amazing. You turn over, giving your shoulder a break, and curl back up in Lee’s embrace. You rest your head on his warm chest, your fingers curling into the thick hair there. You close your eyes as your leg wraps over Lee’s hips. Sure, you could just fall back to sleep. Falling back asleep sounded amazing…

“Lee,” you whisper. He lets out another gruff hum. “I’ve never slept at a man’s house before.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a virgin,” he chuckles.

“No!” You quickly deny. “I’ve just never stayed over.”

A deep hum rumbles through his body. “Glad I could be your first.” You smile up at him and place a kiss on his lips. “One more,” he requests softly and you happily obliged. “Last one?” You giggle and kiss him again. “Can’t get enough of those pretty lips pretty girl.” You curl into his side and actually start to nod off.

For a moment.

Before Baby leaps onto the bed and lets out a questioning chirp.

“Now you’ve gone and woke the baby,” Lee accuses turning over to hold you with both arms.

“Me?” Your voice causes the kitten to let out a happy meow and jumps over Lee to lick your nose. “Oh! Baby!” You laugh pulling her from your face.

He yawns and squeezes you. “She never does that to me.”

“She’s happy her momma’s here,” you goad. Lee retaliates by spanking you softly. “Aren’t you so happy your mommy’s here? You don’t have to play with your mean old daddy,” you coo at the little kitten, stroking her stomach when she rolls over for pets.

Lee’s big hand runs over your stomach much more intimately than any other touch he’s given you. His thumb runs just under your breast sending heat radiating straight down to your pussy.

“If you two are busy playing,” his hand comes to a rest between your breasts as he rolls over you slightly, pinning you under him, “who’s gonna play with me?” You let out a soft gasp. Your hips lift to find any kind of friction for your core but your lack of panties makes that impossible.

Until Lee’s thigh fills that space. You let out a soft whimper as he grinds back against you.

“Do you need daddy to play with you, too, momma?” You can’t find your voice but you can nod. Lee kisses just behind your ear and you feel like you’re floating. “Let me hear you tell me.” He grinds a little harder against your fluttering core making your whine.

“I-I need you, daddy,” you whimper into the pillow.

His voice is a deep rumble through him as he nuzzles his face against your neck, nipping lightly at your ear lobe. “What do you need?”

Ugh! This should be criminal. His thumb strays to brush against your clothed nipple making you arch against him.

“Need you, Lee!” You cry out.

“That’s all you had to say.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Since you’ve never stayed with a man then I’m guessing you’ve been missing out on the joys of mornin’ sex?”

“Uh-huh,” you whine, your hips gyrating against his thick thigh, taking what you need from him.

“Well, that’s one of the best games a man and a woman can play.” His fingers undo the top couple buttons of your borrowed pjs just enough for your bare cleavage to show through.

“When do we start, daddy?” You breathe. You’re so close. So fucking close. Lee can barely focus on anything but the way your hips move for him and you can’t focus on anything but the way he feels against you. “Oh fuck,” you groan as you cum against his thigh.

“Now,” Lee smiles watching you come apart before him. Your thighs constrict around his as you feel your high pulsing through you. Your whole body rolls slightly at how good it feels until a telltale bulge presses into you. You let out a soft, surprised chirp and roll your head to face him. Your hand finds his soft belly and travels lower and lower until you can palm his hard on.

Oh. He’s big.

You bite your lower lip and grip him through his boxers.

“Now, look who’s playing,” Lee grunts and sits up to press his boxers down. You unbutton your shirt the rest of the way before Lee notices. “Come here, beautiful.” He pulls you onto his lap and presses your shirt from your shoulders. “Gorgeous,” he sighs and palms your breasts.

“Me or my boobs?” You smile.

“Both.” You giggle and reach between your thighs to jack him off. He makes the most blissed out face. It’s gorgeous. You rub the bead of precum he produces over his tip and down his shaft and, God, you can’t wait for him to fill you up.

“You do have condoms, don’t you? Or do you really want another baby?”

“I’d love to have a baby with you,” Lee mutters pining you with those icy eyes. Your pussy flutters just thinking about him fucking you until you’re pregnant and completely full of him. “Top drawer.” He nods to one of the bedside tables and you shake yourself from your perverted thoughts. You climb over him to find them giving him the perfect view of your ass. He grips it roughly as you rummage through his beside table until you find what you’re looking for.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know exactly where they are,” Lee jokes as you reclaim his lap.

“I don’t go through your things,” you quickly deny.

“Then you’d have no idea where I put my spare car keys?”

“First drawer in the table by the door,” you recite quickly.

“Don’t go through my things, huh?” Your face heats after he catches you red handed but Lee only laughs at your embarrassment. “This is practically your house, momma. I’d expect you to know where everything is. Now, if we can get back to what we were doing,” he trails making you smile and focus back on his cock.

You roll the condom down his shaft as you continue to jack him off until he’s practically begging for you. Then you finally lift your hips to feel the bliss of his heavy cock filling you so perfectly.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whine as he stretches you.

“God, you’re tight,” Lee grunts. You hold yourself there with him deep inside of you as your body adjusts. You could live on this cock alone. You take a shuttering breath before finally meeting his gaze again. “Come ‘er, momma,” Lee groans pulling you down to his chest. He flips you onto your side and pulls your thigh over his hip once more. “Liked having you like this. Felt so good.” You start to rock your hips experimentally making Lee groan out your name. Your hips roll into his while he holds your ass, encouraging your pleasure, until you find that spot. Deep inside of you, there’s a little spot that you know will have you screaming in no time. You aim Lee’s tip there over and over leaving you a whining mess for him.

“Right there? Is that where you want me?” Lee asks with a small smile. You can only nod and push further into his chest. Lee chuckles at the mess you’ve made of yourself and can only think of how much more he’s going to ruin you.

He rolls you completely under him, his bulk a settling weight over you. Lee carefully arranges your thighs around him, placing them safely over his own.

Then he fucking destroys you.

You don’t know where you end and he begins but you know it’s perfect. Your voice comes out in sharp shouts at the peak of each of his thrusts. “That’s my girl,” Lee grunts as he rails into you. His movements so precise. So perfect. His weight, his hold on you. It’s all so good.

Lee presses a kiss you your lips to still your whimpers but you can’t help it, it feels so right. Your cries get louder as you feel that knot inside you get tighter and higher. One of your thighs hooks around his back while the other presses into his hips. Just a little more. Just a little deeper…

“Right there! Please, Lee! Right th-aaah ah ah ah!” You squeak as you cum undone. Your eyes flutter shut and stars dance behind you lids as waves of pleasure pulse through you.

You hips spasm into Lee’s sporadically as he chuckles breathlessly. “That good, momma?” You can only bite your lip and squirm under him in response. He presses his lips against yours once more, kissing you until you come back around and start kissing him back. Your hands cup his face pulling him into more kisses before wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“You’re amazing, daddy,” you sigh contently against his lips.

He grins back at you before rolling back over on his back, pulling you with him. “Your turn.” You smile sheepishly at your chance to pleasure him.

“My turn,” you whisper. Your hands find his shoulders and lean over him, finding some leverage on your knees.

You bounce on his hips experimentally, feeling his girth drag against your walls until he’s back against that spot but this is for him…

You spread your legs a little wider to allow for his frame to fit a little more comfortably between them. Then you lean back, one hand resting somewhere near his knee while the other rubs his soft belly. Your hips loose another experimental wave before letting go and humping into him. It feels like he’s ripping you apart in such a good way. Lee’s hand finds your hip as he guides you slightly but you didn’t need much. You seemed to fit each other perfectly. Know each other carnally. Neither of you need much coaching. It all seemed to flow.

“Fuck, momma. That’s it. Little faster,” he spanks your thigh to egg you on.

“You like that, daddy?” You smile.

“I fucking love that,” Lee groans. You lean over him to press a kiss to his lips while you continue to ride him. Fuck he feels so heavy and good and right inside of you. You let out a soft moan.

So perfect.

His other hand wraps around you and starts to help you along, thrusting up into you and meeting your soft waves. Curses tumble from your lips every time he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of you until it starts to feel like he’s aiming for it. Over and over until you’re like jello in his grip, holding on limply while he fucks you within an inch of your life.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, momma,” Lee groans.

“Please, Lee! I need you,” you babble, so close to your own breaking point.

“Gonna get you there,” he promises and his thrust get rougher and faster and he knows right where he needs to abuse you. Before you know it you’re gasping and tossing your head back in a silent scream as you cum around him.

“Shit,” Lee groans and quickly follows you, spilling his seed into the condom still buried inside of you. You both pant for air, watching each other as you glow in your after shocks.

Those bright blue eyes watch you, taking all of you in from your mussed hair to your soft curves. “You okay, momma?” Lee asks after catching his breath. You just nod and collapse into his warm chest. He chuckles softly and wraps his arms around you. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” you counter with a small smile burying your face in his chest. You could stay like this forever.

But Lee’s growling stomach says otherwise.

“I’ll go make us some breakfast.” You attempt to pull away but Lee keeps his grip on you.

“I’ll help,” he insists and help he does. Helps by swatting your behind under his borrowed shirt and helps by pressing kisses to your neck while you fry eggs and he really helps when he pulls down his pants and has you keep his cock warm for him while he eats. He’s such a good helper you think as he rails you against the dining room table after he finishes his breakfast.

Lunch are simple ham and cheese sandwiches after you choke on his cock and dinner is your pussy spread over the kitchen counter right before your roast finishes in the oven.

You really don’t want to leave but you didn’t have a change of clothes and living the rest of your life in Lee’s borrowed shirts didn’t seem practical. So Lee begrudgingly takes you home after a long day of hard work with his help.

“Where the hell have you been?” Your mother shouts the moment you set foot through the door, breaking you from the spell Lee put you under.

You freeze before you even have a chance to close the door behind you. “Get in this house before anyone else sees you running the streets!” You’re floored by the accusation but follow her direction and silently stepping into the house.

“Where are have you been?” She repeats a little more calmly but you know better. There’s a level of anger you’ve never met under that calm.

“I called and told you I’d be at Lee’s late.” Yesterday you don’t add and hope she forgets all about that by keeping your tone even.

“Lee’s?” You mother frowns. “That’s awfully familiar for the sheriff.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath. Were you really about to get yelled at because of this?

“Girl, you know I don’t allow that kind of back talk in my house. Now, you told me you’d be home late and then we never heard another word from you for an entire day! Where have you been?”

Oh boy.

“Well, it’s just that, mom. I lost track of time and stayed late so he had me stay for dinner and at that point it was so late he just told me to stay in the guest room. I didn’t want to call and wake the whole house…”

“I don’t care if you wake the whole neighborhood. I want to know where my daughters are once the sun sets.”

This is ridiculous.

“Mom, I’ve been in an entirely different state for the past six years,” you argue.

“As long as you’re under my roof, you’re under my rules! You could’ve been dead in a ditch! You could’ve been hanging!”

“Oh, mother! Honestly,” you sigh, stamping your foot lightly on the ground.

“To your room. Now.”

“I’m almost 30. You can’t just send me to my room,” you argue. “I’m only here to take care of you. Not to be treated like a child. I should be in California but I’m stuck here. For you. And as long as I’m here for you, I can do whatever I want outside of this house!”

Shock is written all over your mother’s face by your words. You’re shocked by your words. You’ve never talked back to your mother. The look of hurt and anguish on her face is heartbreaking.

You take a calming breath and move to sit on the couch across from her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak to you that way.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” she agrees.

“I haven’t done anything to make it seem like I’ll make bad decisions in life, have I?” You ask the woman, resting your elbows on your knees tiredly. “I didn’t drop out of college, get pregnant, and work at a dinner. I’m not the one that needs to be policed. If I want to spend the night at my boss’s house, then you just have to trust me.”

She watches you for a moment. “What’s he like?” She finally questions.

You contemplate the question for a moment. “He’s very sweet. And so smart. We have a cat. Her name is Baby. He just wants to help people.”

“Was it good?” She laughs.

“Mother!” You cry out of embarrassment, covering your face.

“You can tell me,” she smiles. “He’s a good looking man. I may be sick but I still have eyes, girl.”

You regard her with a shy smile for a moment before deciding to answer. “It was amazing.” She cackles at your answer making you giggle. “I hear a lot of talk about white men but I’ve never heard anything about Europeans,” she trails.

“Alright, I’m not talking about this anymore,” you laugh and stand up. “What do you want for dinner?”

“What’d you make Lee?” Your face immediately heats as you spin away to the kitchen.

“Not talking about it!” You cry as you rush away.

You hum softly to the radio while sweeping. It was a hot day. The sun was working over time but you were enjoying the slight breeze from open windows and the freshly made lemonade and iced tea you conjured up this morning. But that wasn’t the only thing changing. Lee was taking Mondays off again and sometimes Fridays. You loved when he took Fridays off. Lee was always in such a good mood. You’d let yourself in and crawl into his bed and curl up next to his warm sleeping body. Sometimes he’d fuck you until you couldn’t think straight and sometimes you’d just sleep in and only get out of bed because of Baby’s screaming.

This morning was one of those fuck your brains out mornings.

It left you feeling like you were walking on a cloud. It always made it impossible to do actual work in this condition. Lee didn’t expect you to. He expected you to be his little house wife on days like this. To serve him food and ride his dick accordingly. And you were happy to oblige.

“This one’s about you, Baby,” you smile at the cat perched on the back of Lee’s couch as she watches the broom go back and forth. Desi Arnez’s voice crones through the speakers with one of the songs from the popular sitcom.

“There’s a brand new baby at our house, the nicest little gift we've ever had,” you sing along, dancing around the broom while Baby watches on in amusement.

You remain oblivious to a second set of eyes on you, watching you twirl gracefully around the living room. You’re so beautiful.

Lee waits until you’re facing away from him to make his move. He slinks up behind you and wraps his arms comfortably around your waist making you jump in surprise.

“Oh, Lee!” You giggle swatting his arm.

“Did I scare you, momma?” He chuckles before burying his face in your neck and dancing along with you. Your hands wrap over his while you sway to the music. He releases you into a turn before pulling you back into him. “I didn’t know you liked dancing,” Lee sighs into your skin.

“You never asked,” you smile.

“I should take you out.”

“That would imply that we’re actually dating.”

“Aren’t we?” He questions but you know it’s not really a question. This is something the two of you have yet to really flesh out. Dating meant marriage and marriage meant…

“You know I can’t stay here forever,” you remind the sheriff gently.

“Can’t you?” There’s another one of those fake questions. He knows you can’t. You have a passion beyond cleaning houses. You want to help people. “You can just move in here. I’ll take care of you. Give you whatever you want. Give you a baby.”

“We have a baby, Lee,” you smile sadly. He spins you in his grip to make you face him but you avoid his gaze.

“Look at me-“

“Lee.”

“I’ll talk to administrators over there-“

“Lee.”

“I’m the law around here and what I say goes-“

“Lee!”

“And I want you to stay!”

“I won’t work somewhere I’m not wanted!” You cry, finally looking up at him. “Every day will be an uphill battle and I don’t want to fight.”

“Not even for me?”

Shit.

That breaks you. You didn’t know how much of a hold he had on your heart until this moment. Could you leave him? Leaving him would mean one of the most devastating things in your life just happened. Could you live without his comfort? Without running home to him when you could no longer run home?

“I-I wish we could stay like this forever,” you whisper, dropping your head to his chest.

“I would never let you do it on your own. You know that. You’ll always have me. You just need to choose me, too.”

He makes it sound so simple. Like he can just go in and threaten an entire hospital and come out victorious. But you know better. That’s a fairy tale and the real world doesn’t work like that.

He holds you like that for a long moment. Long enough for Baby to come paw at your skirt to check on you.

“Your momma’s trying to get rid of us, little girl.” The kitten screams up at you as if she knows exactly what Lee’s talking about. Her giant blue eyes stare up at you expectantly. Just like her daddy’s.

“Lee,” you warn, not wanting to discuss it anymore.

“One date,” he asks. “I’ll come pick you up and we’ll dance all night. Then you can tell me to leave you alone and it will go back to me being your boss and nothing else.”

“But Lee-“

“It’s gotta end somewhere,” he argues. “We can’t keep playing house forever.”

Can’t we?

You got all dolled up under the scrutiny of your sister and mother. “Who are you going out with? Where are you going?” You just ignore them while blushing your cheeks. You don’t know why you’re getting so dressed up. Lee’s seen you at your worst and still seems to find something he likes. It was nice knowing you didn’t have to look your best for him. That was the kind of thing you wanted in a man.

There were a lot of things about Lee you wanted…

But you couldn’t stay here.

Right?

You can’t stay here?

It’s backward and racist. You have a one way ticket to California. A brand new place built on different principles. You could finally kiss this bible belt southern town goodbye for good. And that’s exactly what you want?

You’d find someone your age. Maybe a lawyer or a doctor.

But they wouldn’t be Lee.

There’s a knock at the front door while you apply your powder numbly.

“I’ll get it,” you sister sighs and makes her way to the door. You hear Lee’s deep drawl and you’re instantly drawn in. His voice, his laugh.

“You’re in love.”

Your gaze snaps up to your mother in the mirror’s reflection. There’s a smug look on her face that says it all. “You’re in love and you’re scared.” She shrugs with a soft laugh. “The heart wants what the heart wants. Stop fighting it, girl.” She leaves to go greet Lee and tell him you’ll be out in a minute.

Tears start to fill your eyes. Is it that obvious? Are you in love? How were you supposed to go out and have a good time with all of this on your mind? A tear escapes your control as you hear your mom directing him back to your room. You attempt to quickly wipe it away but he sees you just as you dab at your eye with a tissue.

“You that upset to go out with me?” Lee jokes, leaning against the door frame. He looks so nice in a blue dress shirt and slacks. Like your own personal dream. You just want him to hold you but you don’t want depend on him. Right? You want to be your own woman but you want to be his so badly…

He gives your reflection a once over. “You look fucking gorgeous, momma. Too beautiful to be crying.”

“I’m just feeling a little lost,” you admit after sniffling softly.

“Well, finish up. We’ll talk in the car.” You nod slightly and attempt to finish you makeup quickly while your family entertains Lee.

This is as good as it’s going to get. You give yourself one last once over. You brush a hand down your blush pink dress and make sure your curls are perfectly placed. Some part of the back of your mind reminds you that you need to look good on Lee’s arm and that not just anyone can go out with the sheriff. You need to put on a smile and act like everything is-

You quickly squash that notion. Lee’s never expected any more of you than to take care of yourself, him, and Baby. That wasn’t going to change now.

You take a deep breath and step into the living room. Lee is instantly on his feet. “There’s my girl.” Your face heats as you look away.

“You mind your manners and have a good time,” your mother bids placing a kiss on your cheek before Lee wraps his arm around you.

“She’s in good hands,” he promises and leads you out to his car. “We have a reservation to make,” Lee sighs opening the door for you.

You give him a dubious look when he settles into the driver’s seat. “None of the restaurants around here need a reservation,” you frown skeptically.

“We ain’t eating around here,” he smirks. “Come here, momma. What’s going on in that pretty head?” You smile slightly up at him before sliding across the bench to sit at his side. His strong arm wraps around you as you rest your hand on his belly. “Or we can just cuddle if you don’t feel like talking.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm comfortingly. You don’t exactly feel like talking but it seems like you have a bit of a drive ahead of you. He peels out of your neighborhood and on to the main road as the radio crones on with big band music.

“I want to talk,” you whisper. Lee only pulls his hand away for a moment to turn off the radio before focusing back on you. His hand finds your waist and pulls you a little closer. “I-I don’t want to stay here, Lee. You know that. But I love you. I can’t see having to go on without you. I don’t want to go on without you.”

A soft hum rumbles through him before he speaks. “Then what are we going to do about that?”

“I’ll apply for the local hospital again, I guess.”

“You guess?” Lee jokes. “Or you can be my little stay at home wife. Pretend you’re in California all you want. I’ll plant some palm trees and put in a pool. You can take care of Baby all day. She would love that.”

You laugh softly. “Maybe I’ll have to be your own personal nurse. Take care of my big strong man when he’s sick.”

“Will you dress up in one of those skimpy little outfits?”

“For you, of course.”

You reach up to press a kiss to his cheek but he pulls you back for a quick kiss. “I love you so much, momma. I’d do anything for you. Don’t ever forget that.” You nod and let out a little giggle. “Now, give me another kiss.” You happily oblige. “One more. So fucking good for me. Now sit back before I have to stop this car and remind you why you love me so much.” You let out a laugh and curl back into him.

A little over an hour later, he stops at a very popular looking club in Columbus.

“We came all the way out here to go dancing?” You smile, scooting across the car bench to look out the window.

“The clubs in town are stale as hell,” Lee sighs and moves to get out of the car.

“Wait!” You cry, stopping him as the valet reaches his door. “Thank you for this, daddy.” You press another kiss to his lips that quickly turns into a show for the valet.

“Save some of that energy for later,” Lee smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead before finally stepping out of the car.

You expected to get all kind of looks: the sheriff out with that little black girl that ran off to the big city and had to come crawling back with her tail between her legs…alright, no one’s ever said that but you know someone’s thinking it. Maybe. But this far from home…

No one knows you here. They don’t even seem to care that you’re different races. It was…nice. You giggle softly as Lee dips you only to pull you back up into a soft kiss.

“I’m really glad I said yes,” you smile as he holds you close.

“So much for all those tears,” Lee chuckles making you roll your eyes. That was one time. “I gotta talk to you,” Lee mutters against your lips before pulling you back to your table. “I didn’t know a good time to tell you this but I talked to one of the managers at the hospital.”

“Ugh, Lee! I don’t want to think about that drama! Can’t we just enjoy our night?” You whine taking a drink of your cocktail.

“You think I’d tell you bad news right now? I’m trying to get laid tonight.” You can’t help but laugh at him. “Got you another interview.”

“But we just talked about this,” you argue in disbelief. You literally just told him you’d stay less than an hour ago in the car.

“I might have done some shit behind your back,” the sheriff admits. When you let out an annoyed huff but he quickly continues. “I just knew you wouldn’t leave me.”

“So sure of yourself.” You roll your eyes at him. “And what’d you do to get this interview? Hold him up at gun point?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Lee drawls, leaning back in his chair with a smug look on his face. You just smile and shake your head at him. “All we did was talk. I promise no one got hurt. No threats were made.”

“Really?”

“Why would I lie to you, momma?”

“You’d certainly arrange things without telling me,” you pout but then give him a once over, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. He is doing this for you, too. He knew how hard it was being away from family while you were in school. You loved your independence but you liked the comfort of having a steady place that’s home. He wanted to be that home. Your steady place.

You don’t want anything else in the world besides that.

“I guess you’re getting laid tonight.”

He gives you a shit eating grin that tells you all you need to know before leaning back on the table. “How do you plan on thanking me?”

“What would you like, daddy?” You ask innocently, looking at him through your lashes. “I can suck your big, fat dick? Or keep you warm all night? Or maybe…”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe I’ll let you fuck a baby into me.”

“Fuck, momma,” Lee groans before adjusting his pants not so subtly. “You done here? I gotta get you home.”

“Maybe we should get a hotel,” you suggest thinking about how long the drive is.

“Car’s free,” Lee grins pulling you from your seat and toward the door.

It doesn’t take him long to find a dark alley and it takes you absolutely no time find yourself on your knees at his side choking on his cock.

“Fuck, momma,” Lee groans spanking your ass as it wiggles in the air. “Didn’t know you had all that in you.” You let out a satisfying hum as you swallow him making him moan. You feel his fingers hitching up your dress inch by inch. He spanks you again once he clears the fabric and grips your cheek through your panties. “That’s it. My perfect girl.” He slides his hand under the fabric to find your slit already soaking for him. “You want my cock, momma? You’re so wet for me.” You nod as much as you can around him and Lee grips the roots of your hair, dragging your face up to meet his with a sloppy kiss. You moan into his mouth as you cup his face with your hands, feeling the rough stubble from the day.

Lee lets out a soft grunt as he repositions you across the car bench. His face nuzzles kisses against your neck. “I love you so fucking much. You know that, momma?” He mutters. His finger trace the band of your underwear before slipping them down your legs. You can only whimper as your mind races to how he’s going to destroy you.

“Need you, daddy.”

Those bright blue eye flick up to you, pinning you with his gaze. “You got me,” he assures you. You hear his belt buckle and moments later he’s stretching your core to its max. He’s so big and fills you so perfectly. You can feel every bump and vein and it’s so right. You’ve had sex with him regularly but this time felt special. You’ve never taken a man raw before. You felt ready.

Lee’s hips start to thrust into you erasing everything from your mind but him. He knows you so well that he doesn’t need to search for that spot. He just goes straight for it and has you screaming for him. Your stockinged foot finds the steering wheel for a bit of leverage so you can thrust back into him.

His hand grips the back of your thigh, helping you out while he folds you into yourself just so he can get a little deeper. You curse as he grinds against that spot mercilessly. His weight is so comfortable on top of you. You always want this. You want him by your side, to wake up next to him every day, to grow old with him. And as he gets you so close to your peak, you know you can’t live without him. “Lee! Fuck! P-please! I’m so close!”

A soft chuckle emits from the man before he presses a kiss to your lips. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re falling apart for me. Let go. I’ll catch you.”

You nod vigorously. Your eyes squeeze shut as your focus is set on your core and how much pressure he’s putting on you.

Whimpers falls from your lips as your hips sputter into his smooth thrusts, chasing your high.

“Please, please, please, please,” you chant just loud enough for Lee to hear.

“Begging for it now?” Lee laughs. His hips snap into yours now, giving you exactly what you need.

You’re a whining whimpering mess when you finally cum. Stars shoot across your closed lids as you try to smoother your face between the bench and Lee’s kisses.

“Good girl. Always my good girl,” Lee praises. Your body clenches around him at his words and he instantly knows something new about you.

He pulls away from your kiss covered jaw to watch you with an amused look. Your body is still writhing with pleasure under him and he can’t wait to give you move.

“You like being my good girl, momma? Wanna keep me happy?”

You moan at his words, humping against him, wanting him to move again but he continues to grind into the spot driving you crazy.

“Use your words,” he chuckles brushing a mussed curl from your forehead.

“I-I wanna be your good girl,” you whimper, finally cracking your eyes open to meet his gaze.

“Then you’ll make me happy and stay here?”

You stare at him for a beat before you nod. “I’ll stay.”

A smile spreads across his lips before he gets back to destroying you.

“Fuck,” he groans softly, your core keeps squeezing him mercilessly but you can’t control it. He can’t control it either as he slams into you despite your grip on him. You need him so bad. You need him to make you his wife. You need to take care of him. You need him to take care of you. You’ve never needed anything or anyone so bad in your adult life.

“You feel amazing, momma. Made just for me, you know that?”

“I’m yours,” you cry, your head tossed back against the seat so close to your peak again.

“All mine,” Lee sighs. “You gonna cum with me?”

“Uh huh!” You exhale. “Wanna be your good girl! Wanna cum for you, daddy!”

“Fuck!” Lee growls gripping your thigh a little tighter. The thought that it might bruise ghosts through your mind but you welcome it. He’s leaving his mark on you. Claiming you. It just makes you hotter. Tighter. Wetter.

“That’s it, momma. Cum for me,” he begs, his hips snapping into yours now.

So close. So close. Just a little- “Lee-eh-eh-eak!” You scream as you cum, spilling onto his stomach and the base of his cock. Lights flash behind your lids and you’re left a moaning mess as he fills you to the brim. You feel his seed leak past your lips to pool between you but he stays buried deep as ribbons of cum paint your insides, ready to do it’s job and make sure you’re full of him for the next nine months.

Of course, you know that its a relatively safe day for unprotected sex.

But part of you hopes it took.

Lee’s breaths come in quiet huffs as you writhe under him. He stays buried in you while he slowly softens, giving you just that little bit of extra friction. “You alright, momma?” He smiles before pressing a kiss to your lips. You chase after them blindly as he pulls away, not ready to open your eyes. No ready for the euphoria to end.

“More kisses,” is your only response and Lee happily obliges. He bombards you with kisses until you’re both gasping for air and space. Lee lets out a soft sigh and sits up, pulling you up with him. He easily slips from you and you contract, attempting to keep all of his essence inside.

“Fuck,” Lee chuckles seeing his handy work between your legs. “Look at you just leaking with cum. You’re gonna make me hard again.” You smile and glance away, embarrassed. “Let me clean you up.” Lee finds his handkerchief in his back pocket and gently cleans up your core. “Relax or you’ll be holding it the entire drive,” he jokes. You let out a soft sigh and attempt to push out what you’ve been holding on to. “Good girl,” Lee praises making you giggle and bury your face in your hands. “Shit. If I knew that had so much power over you, I’d have said since day one.”

“You did once pretty early on,” you admit. “I fell asleep with my fingers in me that night.”

Lee laughs softly and is such a nice noise. You want to hear it forever.

“Well, shit! Tell me next time you need to jack off to something I said. I wanna watch.” You giggle even harder leaning back against the door as Lee finds your panties. He slips them back up your legs and over your hips so gently. He knows by now that he has to be careful with you after fucking you into a stupor. You watch as he slips on your shoes and places a soft kiss on each ankle.

He’s perfect.

“Lee?” He hums softly before looking up at you. “I love you.”

He just smirks back at you. “I love you more.”

You doze at Lee’s side as he drives you back to town. He hasn’t decided if he’ll take you home or to his place. You don’t care either way. You mom knows not to wait up. But you hope he’ll take you home. His home. Where your Baby is. And where your man is. Your fingers grip his thigh in your sleep, trying to keep him close even in your dreams. Your little hand is so close to his cock he starts to get stiff again.

He chuckles softly so he doesn’t wake you. “Guess you're coming home with me, huh?”

You wait in the sterile administration room of Mead General. Lee pretty much had to drop you off at the entrance to make you come. No amount of convincing could calm your nerves that morning. You fiddle with the new ring on your finger in an attempt to calm them.

The engagement ring Lee gave you.

It was enormous. You could practically see yourself in the diamond. It wasn’t you at all but Lee insisted on it. Nothing less than perfect for his girl.

Who knew it would become such a comfort.

A secretary calls your name and you gather up your resume and credentials to go through this torture one more time.

“Head up, momma. You’re the sheriff’s fiancée now. I need you to act like it.” Lee’s voice echos in your mind from when he dropped you off. You roll your shoulders back and add a little more confidence to your step.

Here goes nothing.

Lee leans against his car as he waits. It’s far too hot to sit in there and bake so he found a spot under a tree to wait for you. He glances up from lighting a cigarette to see the hospital security guard walking up to him like a man on a mission.

“Shit,” Lee sighs. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the public.

“Mr. Sheriff, Sir,” the man grins and holds out his hand.

Lee puts on a smile and tucks his sunglasses into his shirt pocket. “Sir,” Lee greets. “How can I help you?”

“Ronald, Sir. I just wanted to thank you for all that you do for our town. Keeping the social order and all.”

Lee can’t help but cock his brow at the phrase. Keeping the social order?

“This is one of the few places not assaulted with progressive ideas. Separate but equal will always prevail.”

He hadn’t enforced Jim Crow is over a year. Had nobody seemed to notice law enforcement stopped responding to their ‘coloreds using whites only facilities’ calls? They probably had their heads too far up their asses.

Lee gives the man a once over. “Right.” He looks up to notice you leaving the hospital. He sees you stop and glance around for him before he decides to go get you.

“What’s that little negro doing in there?” Ronald asks immediately noticing you. Apparently he wasn’t that great at his job if he never registered that you were there.

Lee smirks at your lithe form in the pencil skirt and blouse you picked out for your interview. He couldn’t wait to get you home to peel them off of you.

“I’ll handle this,” Lee sighs before stamping out his cigarette butt and making his way toward you.

You instantly light up at the sight of him, you almost fall into his arms in relief at a friendly face.

“How’d it go, momma?”

“I felt like they were interrogating me,” you breathe, letting out a soft laugh.

“Trying to scare you off,” Lee sighs. “What’d they say?”

You smile up at him excitedly. “I got it!”

“That’s my girl,” Lee grins. You notice his hands placed firmly on his hips but continues to regard you with beaming pride.

You cock a brow at him. “What are you up to out here?”

Lee bites his bottom lip, trying to hold back a laugh. “I gotta tell you something first. I know I threw a fit and started all that mess about that old junk-stuff in the basement,” he corrects himself with a soft eye roll.

“Oh, Lee,” you coo softly at the start of his apology. “That was so long ago. I’m not upset-”

“Just let me finish,” he interrupts. “I’m glad you made me keep it. I want our kids to see it. To know where they came from.”

You smile up, suddenly so proud of this man that was about to become you husband. You prepare to leap into his arms but he stops you with a gentle hand. He gestures toward the elderly security guard standing cross armed in the shade. “Now, back to what I was up to. That man over there thinks you’re up to no good.”

You burst into watery laughter at his words, attempting to hold back your happy tears long enough to let Lee play his joke. He really does pick the worst times to get sentimental. “What’s he gonna do? I work here now. Should we give him a show? Make his day?”

Lee’s smirk turns into a grin. “Really play it up for me, alright? Don’t hold back.”

You nod and stifle a giggle as Lee grips your forearm and attempts to drag you to his car. “Unhand me, you-you side burned Neanderthal!” You cry while flailing aimlessly. Lee stops to look back at you. “Too much?”

“That kinda hurt, momma.”

“Sorry,” you giggle glancing away, hoping your little character break isn’t caught. “I didn’t do anything! I had an interview! I swear!” You continue loudly, attempting to garnish attention.

“Anything you say can be used against you, ma’am, and I happen to know on good authority that this hospital doesn’t hire colorereds.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“If the shoe fits.”

“What are you arresting me for?” You counter, fruitlessly attempting to tug out of his grip.

“Lying to an officer, resisting arrest, trespassing, belligerent behavior-”

“Belligerent?” You bark.

“Just stating the facts,” Lee smirks, proud to deliver a low blow to return yours.

“Oh, you pig!” You hiss, just as Lee gets you to his car.

“Tell me how you really feel,” Lee sighs pressing your back into front passenger door. Those glaciers blue eyes meet yours and you just want to dive into them. They’re perfect.

“Well, sheriff daddy,” you whisper just for him. His hands circle your waist as he crowds you into the tiny space he made for you. It’s perfect. “Truth is, I’m really grateful for you. I wouldn’t have this opportunity without you.”

“Anything to keep you with me, momma.” Then Lee shocks the entire crowd of hospital spectators and presses a soft kiss to your lips. You smile against them and wrap your arms around his shoulders as he pulls you into a tighter embrace. “I love you,” Lee whispers against your lips.

“I love you,” you smile and press back into him. He’s perfect.

——————————————————

Master List

[literatecowboy]

Dr. Feelgood

2. Fucking Brits

Find part 1 here Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: This is my first fanfiction - please be gentle. Additionally, the reader's callsign is "Feelgood." I have done my best to write the reader as ambiguous regarding appearance, but she/her pronouns and AFAB anatomy will be utilized. I hope for this to be a slow-burn romance with Simon "Ghost" Riley. Warnings: Gunshot wounds, medical terminology and procedures

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You didn’t enjoy sleepless nights, but you were used to them. Despite Gaz coming in at Price’s behest to watch over Ghost while you slept, you were too full of adrenaline to rest and as a result, spent the night getting to know the sergeant better. 

In the early hours of the morning, Soap had visited and joined the conversation for a while before the two departed for a workout. Although your stay with the 141 was intended to be a punishment, you found yourself enjoying their company. When you returned to your home base in California you were sure you’d keep in touch. 

Ghost had been quiet through the night to your surprise. He hadn’t woken yet - his body eagerly accepted the rest following such a traumatic injury. 

Of course, it could have been worse - though you were glad it wasn’t. 

One thing that startled you about the medical arrangements of the 141 was that there was no medical support staff on hand. Soap had informed you that their previous medic had retired and the other nurses and caregivers had either trickled out before their former doctor’s resignation or quit just after him. 

Your mind had wandered from where you sat at the computer, quietly reviewing the incomplete medical histories of the 141. It was too quiet. 

Behind you Ghost jolted in bed, sucking in a deep lungful of air and scrambling to sit upright. His eyes were wild and the heart rate monitor he was attached to began to beep more rapidly as he ripped the oxygen mask from his face with a shaky hand. 

In the next instant, you were up and out of your seat and racing for him, dodging the mask as it was hurled at you with surprising force. 

“Lieutenant, it’s okay! You’re safe, you’re in medical!” you cried as you reached him. He reached for the needle in his arm but before he could tug it out and stop the IV you shoved his hand away and grasped gently at his tattooed forearm. 

“Ghost, take a deep breath for me, okay?” you pleaded, laying your hand over the top of the tape that kept the needle in place and using the other to push gently at his chest, trying to get him to lay back down. 

“Ge’ offa me.” he snarled, reaching forward and shoving you back from your shoulder. The force sent you stumbling back, shocked, as he gasped for breath. Ghost kicked frantically at the blankets until they pooled around his ankles, eyes darting as he scanned the room. His chest was heaving and he swung his massive legs off of the bed, grunting in pain as he put his weight on his legs. He stumbled forward, clutching the area where he’d been shot, and crumpled to his knees. 

Recovering quickly, you surged forward again and knelt on the floor with him, catching him before he could fall forward and collide with the floor. You could feel his heart racing against yours as you embraced him, gently helping him sit back on the cool tile so he wouldn’t faceplant. 

“Take it easy there, big guy. You’re alright,” you murmured, taking care to avoid putting any pressure on his wound. As soon as he was seated safely on the floor a large hand pushed you back and away from him, though this shove was more gentle than the one before. You sat back on your heels and eyed him warily, your own heart racing. A few minutes of silence passed as Ghost caught his breath.

“You okay?” you chanced, earning a glare as Ghost looked up at you. 

“Do I look alright?” he practically growled, arms limp at his sides. 

“You look like shit, man, you got fucking shot.” the words came from your mouth before you could think or stop them. Ghost blinked, huffed out a little chuckle, and then winced, gripping his wound. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, looking down as you fisted your shirt.

“S’alright. You’re honest,” he grumbled.

“Can I get you into bed then?” 

“I usually like to know the names of the women who take me to bed.”

“Get fucked– sorry, sorry. I’m Feelgood. I’m…uh…the temporary doctor. Let’s get you up.” you said, offering your hand as you felt your face get hot.

“Don’t touch me.” Ghost growled, gripping the IV pole and using it to slowly pull himself upright. You raised your hands. 

“Alright man.” Silence lapsed back between you two as Ghost sat back down on the edge of the bed before scooting over and lying down. You tried to help him pull the blankets back up but he swatted your hands away. 

“You’re the one who’s in trouble and got sent here. I read over your file,” he stated after a moment of watching you fuss with the IV bag and trying to distract yourself. 

“It was an overreaction. I won’t be here long,” you said briskly, making your way back to his bedside. Ghost snorted. 

“I need to look at your wound to make sure you didn’t pull any stitches during your fall,” you said, putting a hand on the blanket.

“M’ fine.” Ghost grunted, folding his arms over his chest. 

“You’re not. You got really lucky - the entry and exit wounds were clean and no shrapnel was left inside of your abdomen. No bones were broken, no digestive organs were damaged, and I didn’t have to perform a laparoscopy. You’ll recover fully.” you said. 

“If I’ll be fine, can I leave?” he asked.

“No.” you snapped, rolling your eyes and turning to sanitize your hands and put on gloves. 

“Push your blankets down and pull up your shirt, please. It doesn’t have to be far - just to expose your wound,” you said. When you turned back around, Ghost had not done what you had asked. 

“Do you want to die of an infection?” you asked bluntly after a moment. “It’s a nasty way to go, you know. Oh, and even if it doesn’t kill you, you could be permanently disabled.”

“Would an infection mean spending more time here with you?” Ghost grumbled. 

“Yup.”

Ghost pulled down his blankets and just barely inched his shirt up past the packed and bandaged wound in his abdomen. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You and Ghost remained in silence as you removed the dressings and examined his wound. 

After cleaning it and rebandaging it, you instructed him to roll over and did the same with the exit wound. 

“Gonna leave me alone now?” he asked as he rolled over to lay back down. You rolled your eyes. 

“For now.”

Time passed slowly after that. You cataloged the supplies present in the medical office and bustled around arranging the med bay how you liked it. Once Ghost’s IV ran out you replaced it and he didn’t bother to thank you. He watched you the entire time, cold eyes following you back and forth across the room. 

You were in the office now and the lack of sleep was catching up to you. Night was coming again and you were dozing at your desk, your computer monitor having gone into sleep mode a while ago.  

Ghost took the chance. Silently, he slid out of bed, bare feet finding the ground and this time supporting his weight. He flicked the power off on each of the machines he was connected to and pulled himself free of their wires before he snagged the IV bag from its hook and tucked it under his arm, padding slowly out of the room and down the hall toward the rec room. 

–

The next morning Soap found you slumped over at your desk, snoring lightly. Ghost’s bed was conspicuously empty, and when he felt the sheets, they were cold. He shook your shoulder gently and you started, sitting up and wiping sleep from your eyes. 

“What time is it?” you grumbled, pushing your hair back from your face and yawning. 

“About seven-thirty. Lass…I think you’ve got an escapee,” he said gently, gesturing out the office door and toward the empty hospital bed. 

You shot up in an instant and stormed out of the office, fury and worry mixing in your stomach as you caught sight of the empty bed. 

“Fuck!” you shouted, spinning on your heel and looking at Soap with wide eyes. 

“Where is he? Where’s his room?” you cried, dragging him out of the med bay and looking frantically down both hallways. 

“Fuck, where’s my room?” you asked after a moment. The dark circles under your eyes suddenly felt like they weighed a hundred pounds as the exhaustion hit you. It was your third day with the 141 and you hadn’t had a shower or slept in a proper bed. 

“You two share a wall. Come on, I’ll show you.” Soap said. He led you just down the hall and pointed out Ghost’s door, but before he could point out yours, you were hammering on the door with your fists. 

“Lieutenant Ghost, get your sorry ass out here or I swear to fucking Christ you are a fucking dead man!” you shouted, grabbing the door handle as it twisted and the door was pulled open from the inside. He loomed above you with an imposing figure, looking down at you with annoyance in his eyes. 

“The fuck do you want?” he hissed, folding his arms over his chest. You noticed the conspicuous lack of the IV in his arm and looked past him to see it discarded on his dresser. 

“Fucking– you need to get back to the fucking med bay!” you practically shouted, gesturing wildly. 

“M’ fine,” he grumbled, moving to shut the door on you. You wedged your foot in the door and leaned your weight on it, scrambling to prevent him from shutting you out. 

“You have a bullet wound, Ghost! You need to be under medical care!” you cried. 

“You said I’ll be fine,” he grumbled, pushing the door open again and glaring at you. 

“L.T., I think the doc has a point…” Soap said, trailing off as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. This made Ghost pause, glaring at Soap. 

“Come on, if not for me, for him.” You pleaded, looking back at Soap and offering him a tight smile. 

“Come to chow with me and then I’ll walk back with ya, L.T. Come on now, we wouldn’t want to leave such a lovely lady in that med bay all alone, right?” he asked, clapping Ghost on the shoulder firmly and smiling at him. After a moment, Ghost nodded stiffly and stepped out of his room, the door shutting behind him. 

“In the meantime lass, you get a shower and relax. I’ll take care of him and give you a break.” Soap said with a wink.

“Don’t patronize me, Sargent. I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” Ghost grumbled as he strode down the hall and towards the mess. Soap headed after him after seeing you off with a wave. 

–

The long, hot shower helped wash away some of your stress and the smell that had accumulated on you after days of traveling and nonstop working. Your things had been brought to your room for you so you were able to put on a proper pair of scrubs before you donned your shoes once more and headed back to the med bay. 

Ghost was back in bed by now and Soap sat by his side. The two were chatting quietly about something - rather, Soap was telling a story animatedly while Ghost listened and occasionally reacted or made a comment. When Soap saw you again he smiled.

“There she is! How ya feelin' doc?” he asked, offering you a wide grin and sitting back in his chair. 

“Refreshed,” you said, smiling back before making your way over and fiddling with Ghost’s bed. It beeped quietly - you had set the bed alarm on. 

“You’re quite lovely looking when you’re not yelling and covered in some poor man’s blood,” Soap said with a laugh. You chuckled. 

“I’ve spent most of my career yelling and covered in blood, actually. I’ve been fallen on before too.” you said with a laugh.

“Sounds like there’s a story there.” Soap prodded. You pulled up your stool on the other side of Ghost’s bed. 

“When I was a brand new resident, some of the nurses at the clinic I worked at got sick with the flu and I had to stand in to administer vaccines to recruits at boot camp. One of these poor fuckers was super scared of needles - couldn’t even stand in formation because he was so jumpy. After like ten minutes I got him to breathe enough to give him the shot and as soon as I pulled the needle out, he fainted on me.” you said with a laugh. 

“Steamin’ Jesus, he knocked you over?” Soap cried, his eyes wide. 

“Oh yeah, landed right on top of me and sent me falling over. The poor guy was terrified. Got the rest of the shots in him while he was out though, and I only walked away with a bruise.” you said with a laugh. Soap shook his head. 

A deep laugh from Ghost’s bed startled you and you looked up. He winced and stopped laughing before clutching his side but you could see the outlines of a smile under his balaclava. 

“Fucking recruits,” he grumbled, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the pillows. 

“I like your ink, Ghost,” you said, studying his forearms as he closed his eyes. He grunted lightly in response and nodded his head slightly. 

–

Soap left not long later and you got up to keep organizing the clinic’s supplies, humming softly. About an hour later, Ghost’s bed alarm started blaring and you jumped, whirling around to find him sitting on the edge of his bed trying to get up. 

“The fuck’s that noise?” he grumbled as you approached, swatting at your hands as you tried to push him back onto the bed. 

“A bed alarm, lay back down you idiot,” you mumbled, leaning down to silence it. 

“I’m getting tea.” he protested, trying to stand again. 

“Fucking Brits. I’ll get it for you, just lay back down.” you snapped, waving him away as you turned. 

“Oh, I get room service?” Ghost asked with a huff. Thankfully, though, he slid back onto the bed and laid down against the pillows. You pulled a mug from one of the cabinets you had organized earlier and filled it with hot water from the cooler before marching back over to Ghost with the mug and a tea bag in hand. 

“Here. Now stay still,” you grumbled. Ghost took the tea and his rough fingers brushed against yours. After a moment, he rolled up his mask to his nose and pressed the mug to his lips. Your heart skipped a beat as you caught sight of soft lips and a scar that crossed his chin. The lower half of his face was…startlingly attractive under the mask.

You set about working at your computer to distract yourself, and finding what you needed, set about printing out a large .jpeg. A moment later you procured tape from a nearby drawer and marched over to Ghost’s bedside, taping the picture above the head of his bed where all could see. He turned and watched you, his brows furrowing under his balaclava. 

“Oi, what’re you putting that above my bed for?” he grumbled, finishing his tea and setting the mug on the side table before rolling his mask back down. You sighed softly internally, slightly disappointed that his face was hidden again.

“Hospitals sometimes have signs to indicate warnings near certain types of patients. In this case, the peace sign I’ve put up indicates to other healthcare professionals that you’re a difficult or particularly combative patient,” you said. 

“You’re the only healthcare professional in the building, love.” Ghost rasped, his voice dropping an octave. Despite yourself, your stomach fluttered and your face went hot. Your eyes met his and his intense gaze burned into your soul.

“And if you’re looking for a challenge, I can give you that.”

-----

taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland

[tartagliaxx]

。DISTANCE MAKES THE HEART FONDER 

━━ INCLUDES: alhaitham, cyno, tighnari

━━ SUMMARY: some feelings are felt but left unspoken, or things that the characters do to ease the longing that resides in their heart caused by the distance between you two

━━ CONTAINS: established relationships, long-distance romance

。ALHAITHAM — “ scribe of the akademiya ”

The room he rented for his temporary stay at Port Ormos was rather bare. Not like it mattered, of course. The scribe of the Akademiya cared not for frivolous details. As long as he had what he needed, he was fine and dandy. Today, all he needed was a book and a pen. Alhaitham leans back, the chair creaking subtly under his weight. A glance at the setting sun was all it needed to illicit a small sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh. Though not the kind to whine about what life serves him, a near non-existent flicker of desire had him gripping his pen tighter, eyebrows furrowing deeply as his stoic expression morphed into one of annoyance.

Closing his eyes, he counted to three and breathed in the small pauses in between. Just like that, his composed demeanor returned and he once again sat up straight. In his desk was one of the books Kaveh pointedly refers to as “literature acquired through the scribe’s abuse of authority,” something Alhaitham only rolls his eyes at. There was nothing wrong with simply making use of the resources readily available to him given his esteemed position. Honestly, the mere thought of his roommate made his blood boil and the only reason he has yet to kick him out to the streets was that you had laughed and told him to hold on for a little longer. You were too empathetic for your own good sometimes, but perhaps, that which you possess which he does not is what had attracted him to you in the first place.

His mind swims at the thought of you — of how you’d steal his coat to snuggle into as you lounged around the couch, eyeing either one of his books lying around or nursing a cup of tea that he had brewed for you before he busied himself with whatever. With that thought, Alhaitham’s lips twisted uncharacteristically into a minuscule smile, the kind that would require much effort to see. That expression left not even for a second as his pen scratched onto the surface of the paper, ink pooling to form words at the corner of the page. Definitions, clarifications, guide questions, interpretations, and finally, on the last page, a small envelope — a letter, to be precise, that contained a short recount of what he could afford to tell you about his days far from you. There was no flair, and certainly no drama. If you, its eventual receiver, were to compare it with anything, you’d associate it with an eyewitness report for one of the crimes the Matra are investigating. Still, you had once told him offhandedly that knowing about how his day went made you feel as if he was with you and conversing lightly over candlelit dinners. In truth, the scribe found the act to be a waste of time but because it’s for you, he had room to make exceptions. After all, where was the lie in saying that even miles apart, Alhaitham thinks of you quite fondly — finding a unique sense of satisfaction in sharing all that he owns, including his prized intellect and his scarce affection with you?

With that, he decides to call it a night; withdrawing from the desk and leaving behind the book that was ready to be shipped off to Sumeru City first thing in the morning.

。CYNO — “ the general mahamatra ”

His feet dug into the fine grains of sand with each trudge forward. 

The desert has always been quiet at night, save for the howling wind that sounded eerie to the ears of the inexperienced. It was precisely because of this that he prefers moving out when darkness has painted the land with dark shadows and solitude. Then, he could hear everything: The shuffling of the scorpions, the small squeaks of the birds perched on the trees, and most importantly, the scared breathing and mumbling of his prey.

The General Mahamatra was feared by the citizens of Sumeru and for good reason too. He shows no mercy, face remaining cold and detached even after a scholar expresses their motivations for whatever fallacy they have committed. Stress, coercion, vengeance; he has heard it all but never has his heart been swayed. The weight of their sins had always been placed on the scale and they have always lost against that of his principles. Such is the judgment of the Matra, such is the fairness of Cyno, and such is the blade that sliced through the heavy air as the reason for his sudden departure from the city was finally apprehended.

It had taken longer than he would’ve liked and Cyno, who has finally had the room to breathe and release the tension that lingered in his shoulders, sat down in the makeshift camp of the now-unconscious scholar. The trek back to Caravan Ribbat would take long and he was not that heartless to force the weak-looking man on his feet just to serve as the next target for unfriendly Eremite groups. There are many dangers in the desert and frankly, it was a miracle the scholar made it this far unscathed. 

Still, that meant that he’ll have to camp away from home for the night and Cyno’s heart leaned towards irritation. Never had he had any qualms against being away from his lodging on the outskirts of Sumeru City but now was different. Instead of silence and the untrustworthy shadows, what awaits him is perhaps, a spread of his favorite foods and fruits illuminated by the warm kitchen light and your radiant and welcoming smile. You are waiting, Cyno sighs as his eyes moved towards the clear night sky of the desert. You — his star, the brightest one he had the pleasure of witnessing. Here, sheltered only by a feeble-looking tent, the General Mahamatra finds himself longing to bask under your light, eyes twinkling as you retell stories of how your day went filled with the tiny, insignificant details that he misses when he’s away. He longs for you: body, mind, and soul, and his face says it all if you had the gall to stare that long.

Cyno’s gaze never wavered from the sky, not even as clouds pass by and covered what had been the object of his attention. He bides his time seeking the brightest star that just falls short of beating your illuminance in his heart. Perhaps that will ease the ache he feels, maybe even remove the tingle in his fingers that crave to feel your skin and warmth once more.

From afar, the General Mahamatra is as serene as he could be and so is the lullaby he hums quietly — your favorite, and the one he had sung before to urge you to sleep when you and he ventured the same lands together.

。TIGHNARI — “ forest watcher of the avidya forest ”

The forest watcher was a busybody, that much is a fact for everyone who has heard his name. Between lecturing reckless adventurers and mushroom-addicted merchants, clearing Withering Zones, writing down patrol schedules, and caring for the sick and injured, it was a surprise that Tighnari had time to breathe and do what normal people do. If he were to be honest, however, he’d say that he prefers it this way. Being busy keeps him away from straying thoughts, and having his entire mental faculties required by tasks at hand makes it impossible for him to dwell in the past where you and he rest under the shade of the towering trees in Avidya Forest, whispering secret conversations that the world has not the clearance to hear.

Yes, the forest watcher does prefer it this way, but his ears and tail are ever more honest than he will ever be.

Collei was a smart girl and she knew better than to mention the languid swish of her master’s appendage ever since he watched you leave for an urgent task in Bimarstan. His eyes never left your form not until he could no longer see you from the distance — not even a dot. She also never commented on the flick his ears do when one of their colleagues bemoaned the lack of your presence. It was rather amusing and dare she say it, cute, at first but as time went on and Tighnari appeared more and more on edge, Collei found herself feeling sympathetic instead.

It was during the night when Tighnari has nothing else to do that he catches himself sighing, a pout slowly forming as he twisted and turned in his bed to no avail. His ears droop and as if shocked by the act himself, he immediately sits up rigidly with an embarrassed hue tainting his skin. It was so out of character for him to feel so needy and clingy that he could almost imagine the teasing grin you’ll wear if you were to ever catch him like this. Shaking his head with a mumbled string of curses, the forest watcher knew that there is no hope of catching any sleep that night so he instead takes the notepad by his bedside and prepares to go outside. Now, he’d advise against this on normal occasions but this was him and he’d argue that no one knew the forest better than he does so it should be fine. He doesn’t plan on staying out for long anyway.

Before long the sun was rising and in just a few hours, the forest watchers would wake to start their morning patrol. Tighnari barely made it back without being caught cradling an assortment of flowers in his arms. For research, he’d determined to say if inquired about but anyone who had a mind of their own would spot the lie quite easily. And truly, even if they didn’t exercise their mind at all, one sight of Tighnari carefully preserving the Kalpalata Lotus he gathered was enough of a clue. It takes not a genius to connect the dots between the flora and the way he’d teasingly call you his lotus or some other variety when he’s feeling mischievous enough to fluster you to oblivion.

But again, like some unwritten rule, don’t comment on the new decorations you have in your room when you arrive back. Though unsaid, each flower stands for each sleepless night, and having that thought to warm you up is much better than the hour-long lecture you’d have to endure should you use his affection against him.

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