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incidentallysunny · 3 months

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I Was Never There.

Death Island Leon x Reader

Real!Dad Leon

Dead dove warning.

13k word count. Proof read 3 times until I got to around 11k then I stopped worrying and just skimmed. Critique is welcomed and my skin is thick for it.

I’d like to appear in the tagz pls so here’s a warning. My writing is not ever meant to be taken literally and is just for the sake of writing f*cked up content that I enjoy writing. If you do not wish to read this, please do not as my intentions are not to offend or make you intentionally uncomfortable but if you choose to read- don’t be hateful. With that out of the way, extremely sensitive content and dead dove material ahead.

Specifically blood-related incest, smut, suicidal ideation, mentions of grotesque imagery, light mentions of gore in a hypothetical scenario, daddy-issues, age-gap, overall disturbing topics.

As far as smut specifically: this includes talking of public sex, mentions of oral, fingering, unprotected sex, cream-pie (wrap your willy irl pls) praise, dirty talk, any probably some other irrelevant shit I’m forgetting my b.

PROCEED if you read the above, are okay with it, and are mentally unwell like I am. Happy reading, it’s a long one.

The drive from your college town to where your home had been all your life was as expected. Nostalgia and homesickness being mixed in your gut like a can of paint in one of those weird machines at the hardware store that your dad would take you to. Speaking of dad, you hardly remember him. He was present for a short while, your mom always excusing his absence with work this and work that. He really did get busy, though. Almost dying several times. You still remember your moms panicked phone calls, her countless prescription drugs for the same problems you now suffer from, and her late-night bathroom breakdowns. Apparently he couldn’t get out of this job though. Some real fucked up government shit he was tied to, your mom explained. All you know about him is that he saved the president’s daughter. Whatever.

So yeah- a perfect life with a perfect set of parents. One being mentally driven through the dirt and the other that you haven’t seen in 8 years or maybe more. You can’t seem to remember if the last few times you saw your dad were daisied dreams or reality. Bastard has never FaceTimed or video called you, either. Dunno if he even had a phone capable of that. Either way, it must be for the better, because your grades had been sufficient without stressors on your mind. And we all know a low-effort dad would definitely be one. But perhaps he’d rather just be there in person. Older people are like that.

You grunted, trying to drag your over-packed suitcase up the steep suburban driveway before sighing and standing in place. Sure, you didn’t need to bring so much shit home, but would you really want to risk some bitch at college stealing anything from your quad-dorm?

Before you could think and figure out how you’d even get the plastic luggage up the pristine, hand-painted porch steps and inside (without scratching them up and having your parents on your ass about their perfect house having a flaw) a voice called out to you. Unrecognized and not ringing any of the bells in your head. (If there were any left)

“Hey there, sweetheart. It’s been a while, huh?”

You turned to see a middle-aged man, similar to the last memory of your dad that had been printing-pressed into your mind for safe keeping. He was just emerging from the front door, broad chest accentuated by a well-fitted T-shirt. You immediately felt angry that his tits were bigger than yours. Would probably look better with a bra, too.

You didn’t answer.

Fuck- nerves were getting the better of you. Your palms were slick with sweat and you didn’t know if it was from the building summer humidity or anxiety. Was this normal? No the fuck it wasn’t.

“Uhh.. dad?” You queried- almost certain the gorgeous man at the door was just a hotter, older version of your dad and not actually him. The fuck is wrong with you? You’re getting this worked up over your father? Did college drinking really rewire your brain to be this fucked or is it all of the anxiety meds? Maybe both. Maybe you’re just overwhelmed. Maybe it’s because you rarely saw him and have zero attachment.

“Yeah, it’s me. Your old man. Missed you, kiddo.” There’s a pause for a moment- because you’re not sure why he’s talking so casually as if you see each other every weekend- like it hasn’t been years and years since you’ve seen him.

“Don’t remember me,huh?” He laughs satirically- like you’re supposed to be so sure. It makes you slightly furious and the feeling of anger bubbles up again- replacing any strange thoughts you were having moments ago.

No, my apologies dearest dad. I totally recognize you despite having met you enough times to count on almost two hands.

But the better part of you that managed to exist underneath the scores of problems you had just replied in jest- like someone without said scores of problems. It was best to keep the peace for now.

“You look a little different… sorry.” Is that all you can manage? It’s pitiful the state that your sullied mind is in.

He chuckles, though, like he knows your’re right. The sound is more pleasant and striking when it’s genuine. Makes you feel damp in other areas than just your armpits (thank you, heatwave).

“I suppose there’s truth to that. But It’s alright, sweetheart. I know it’s been a long time. People change, right?” His eyes scan you in an undecided way.

“But you, shit. You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman. College treating you well?” His words sound a little huffed then, he’s clearly beating around the bigger issue with a stick. But him calling you beautiful and being all fucking sappy makes your face feel hot and sticky like it’ll melt off. Got you wanting to rip the hair from your scalp to hear him say it again.

“Please?” You called out gently- gesturing to the suitcase and ignoring any other question. You were very much overstimulated- having overexerted muscles in your arms by being a weak bitch about a crammed carry-on. Just get your ass out here and help your daughter, thanks.

He shook his head- again laughing hotly while looking down as he stepped off the porch- his brown bangs were peppered with greys and they brushed his face on one side, his hair somehow pornographic on its own. Christ. He looked like one of those men you saw on Viagra commercials that obviously didn’t actually need it. Even the sight of your perfectly trimmed lawn and faux-looking home completed the scene. Where was the camera?

He walked over to you- there was a slight stiff in his stride; like he had a bad back or something. Maybe he did. Almost dying was the likely cause for that. Serves him right for leaving you with issues on top of issues. Maybe you should stop being mean, you’re the one getting hot over your own father. Again- because of him. Circle back to square one.

Leon towered over your frame as he hinged at the hips, picking up the suitcase with ease- the muscles in his arm flexed with each small movement. His face was a tinge of smug with a mix of something else…satisfaction? Maybe he was just pleased he was able to lift it without rupturing a hernia. Jesus Christ, his veins. You wonder if he has them anywhere else. No- maybe you should be wondering about taking your ass to an inpatient facility immediately. A few screws are loose and you don’t exactly have the tools to tighten them.

“I guess college did treat you well. You’re here in one piece.” He says- cutting you thickly from your thoughts and answering his own question from earlier. His blue eyes are sweet and gently lined with signs of aging. Which only makes him hotter- just like the fiery pits of hell that await you.

You scoff.

“Well, it’s not like I went to war or something.”

“Still. It’s nice to see you, sweetheart.” The word rolls off his tongue again. Your insides are trapezing around in their own miniature, fleshy circus- you’re wishing you could stab yourself in the stomach to stop the swarm of butterflies that don’t even feel metaphorical anymore. You’re sure they’re real now.

He continues, though.

“I know I haven’t been around much in your life- this fucking job and-“ You stare up at him- glossy doe-eyes and stupid look on your face. An apology- or even an explanation from your daddy might be part of what your scrambled brain needs.

“Work kept me away, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about you every day. I’m sorry if I wasn’t there for you like I should have been. Shit… What I mean to say, is- things will be different. I’ve retired. Your mother wanted me to tell you over dinner later but I figured you’d be happy to know. I’m not the best at keeping secrets.” He jokes at the end, but how is that true in the slightest? He’s kept his job a secret for your entire life, so he clearly can’t be that horrible at it.

“Oh.” Leaves your lips quietly, ghosting over Leon and leaving him wondering if he said something wrong. But then he realizes it’s probably just overwhelming for you. The worst part of him thinks you hate him. A feeling overcomes you though, and you rush in to wrap your arms around his waist- hugging him tightly. You now wonder why he didn’t hug you to begin with. Maybe he wasn’t an affectionate guy.

He says nothing at first- he’s even more awkward than you are if it’s possible. But he’s trying. He sets down your suitcase before returning your hold. One arm comes around the back of you and the other is overlapped on top- a hand nestling on the back of your head. Seems he’s getting a bit emotional, too. The attention from him is nice, though.

When you make a small grunt as to wanting to end the hug, his hands linger on your shoulders and he smiles at you. You actually return to, not feeling anything horrid become of your thoughts right now. Whether it be anger or incestual lust.

—

Your dad pushes the front door open with one of his large hands encased on the knob. Hands you immediately find attractive, wondering if they’d feel nice scissoring your cunt open. You now begin to understand why your mom was getting suicidal over him possibly not returning home. You’d kill yourself over him too. But that’s too morbid- especially after the moment you just shared.

That’s already lost to you.

He shut the door firmly, sighing, then gestures to the stairs.

You went up first, self conscious about your backside being right in front of his view but he was your dad. Wouldn’t be looking at you that way. You’re just brain-rotted and have an ill opinion of men.

Your old bedroom still looked the same, basically. Just emptier and more hollow without your things. But the walls were still painted a babydoll-pink and lined with the few girlish decorations you left on the wall. No way you would have been caught dead with those in your dorm. Not unless you wanted to endure torment and bullying that’d lead you to jumping off the dormitory roof.

He sets your luggage down and takes a seat on your bed. A groan escapes him as he puts a hand on his lower back for a moment.

“I see this room hasn’t changed much, has it?” he muses, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Your mom and I had a blast putting it together for you when she was pregnant.”

Yikes. You almost feel guilt for both the incestuous thoughts and the fact you may have ruined your parents' marriage. Maybe that’s not true. It was his work- not you. After all, he’s insinuating how happy they were to have you brought into this world. Plus- they were fine. Never argued or anything.

“I’m sorry. I dont- I don’t know what to say.” You laughed awkwardly, throwing your hands slightly up by your side.

His face doesn’t drop, though. It seems he understands perfectly fine.

“It’s okay. We can start from scratch. Not talk about… your room or childhood stuff. I know it’s a sore spot for you, sweetheart.”

Wrong. It’s more like a festering wound with the rusted knife still wedged in it. The knife being Leon and the wound your daddy issues, by the way. And having no attachment to him as a father figure makes the attraction worse. Notably when he calls you any term of endearment. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

What the fuck. Was he sculpted by Satan himself as some kind of hell-on-earth punishment? Is this purgatory? Everything he did now was driving you up the wall like a roach- every movement and small flex showing a vein or bulge of muscle. And his arm hair didn’t help. Fucking Christ- shave it off or something. You don’t know how you’ll be able to stand it.

“Okay…. How does that work?” You cocked your head to the side a little, shifting your weight onto one leg. A nervous habit.

“Well- what do most parents do with their kids? We could go out for dinner, catch a movie, just… hang out. I’d like to spend time with my daughter, you know.”

Okay, so maybe he did care. That’s a start.

“Uh… all three?” You questioned, an eyebrow lifting along with the infliction of your voice towards the end of your sentence. You’re indecisive like your mom.

He smiled, lines and the corners of his mouth pressed. Happy. Something you heard wasn’t common for him, anyways.

“Of course. We can go out tomorrow, honey. Your mom just wants us to all have dinner together when she gets home. She missed you- not as much as I did, I bet.” He does that stupid fucking wink again. It makes you switch emotions and want to throw something at his head. Maybe your lamp. You feel bad, It’s not his fault you’re acting like a mental freak about him. You don’t even bother to fixate on the fact you’ll have to have dinner with your cunt of a mom. Okay, maybe that’s harsh.

“Okay.” You breathe out, looking around your room. Leon takes that as a cue to stand up from your old bed- the thing creaking from his weight and leaving an indent on your comforter.

“It’s a date, then. I’m going to start dinner. As much as I love your mother, she can be…scary.” He says, still rocking that pressed-in-cheek smile and cracking your door closed behind him. By the way, what he really meant was probably ‘bitchy’- not scary. But dad seems too kind to say that. He loves your mom.

You can breathe again without his presence. It was smothering, like you had to overperform. You find yourself rushing to your dresser mirror to check how you looked. Hair looks great, face too- though a little tired from college over-studying and then driving 4 hours home with no break.

You might as well write ‘whore’ on your mirror with lipstick. Or a marker- since that’s a more permanent reminder with the way you’re acting. But part of you wanted to know what he thought of you- how he perceived you. For now though, it doesn’t matter. Had barely been 15 minutes since you arrived. You turn your attention to your suitcase and push it over flat, unzipping it before the teeth give out and some of your things spill from inside.

You had less than a sufficient amount of energy to care about it being broken now- so you just put your things away quickly before plopping onto the bed and indulging your senses with the smell of the floral detergent your mom always used on your sheets.

—

It’s some time later when you’re abruptly awoken by your moms manicured hand shaking you awake by the shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping when you could be spending time with your father. He was excited for you to be home.”

‘Way to wake me up.’ You thought. She was always having a stick up her ass about this kind of thing. Or anything, really..

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Besides, we’re going out tomorrow to do a bunch of stuff.” You argue sleepily, sitting up as your back aches with your vision still adjusting. She cuts on the lamp, sizzling your retinas.

Her face perks up but is pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, okay..” silence.

“I’m sorry, honey. It was just a long day at work and I’m just over-the-moon for you two to finally have some daddy-daughter time.”

You wrinkle your face in disgust, but not fully disgust since you were just fawning over your hot dad earlier. Maybe daddy doesn’t sound so bad.

“Ew- mom. He’s just my dad. I’m not five.” She laughs, waving her hand off at you.

“Well anyhow- come down for dinner, will you? He put in a lot of effort to cook something for us.”

You cursed under your breath and straighten out your shirt- hoping she wouldn’t bitch about it being slightly wrinkled from you sleeping in it. You seat yourself at the table- adjacent from your mother sitting at the end. She’s already changed out of her office clothes and sure enough, here comes your daddy dad from the kitchen with utensils.

“Sorry ladies- almost forgot these.” He laughs, placing down everyone’s set before seating himself next to you. Fuck.

“You know- your father has only been home a few months and he’s already shown the extent of his memory loss.” She jokes, giving him a loving yet teasing look that makes you want to vomit. And yet jealousy curls up like a cat in your lap, wanting to be lavished with attention from you. The metaphorical jealousy pounces off your lap as you’re met with your dad’s hand on your denim-clad thigh. It’s an innocent gesture but you want to his hand to go further than just sitting politely.

“She’s right, but I can be useful otherwise.” He’s bantering back with her- and you realize he’s making an innuendo when you look over at his face. But it’s weird that he’s saying it while his digits cradle your thigh so gently.

“Gross.” You take a bite of your food- momentarily shocked that a dad of any sort could make such a pleasant meal, especially when he’s spent such little time doing domestic duties.

“Oh honey- you’re grown. We’re just teasing each other.” Your mom nods to Leon, taking a bite off of her fork. His hand slides off of your thigh and he grabs his whiskey glass to take a proper sip.

Jeez, he drinks that shit like its water. No grimacing. No face was made when he swallowed it. Just a guy thing you suppose.

Dinner drags on- the both of them forcing you to talk about your less-than-thrilling college experience. No mom, no boyfriend. No dad, I’m not failing. No you two, I’m not having unprotected sex- fuck off.

After that eventful meal and conversation where your parents basically eye-fucked each other over dinner, you’re left to clean up the mess while your mom gets ready for bed. She has to leave for work early in the morning- as usual. Guess she’s going to take your dad’s spot for the absent parent now that you’re grown and traumatized full and proper.

Sleep came and went- leaving you to trudge out of bed and do your morning routine. It felt out of place trying to do it back at home- but it was also a sentimental feeling to be doing just that.

Leon is already in the kitchen, shirtless and cooking. Seems impractical, but holy fuck. You’d gorilla glue your eyelids open just to not miss a single second of what you’re seeing. Maybe that wasn’t needed- because you've been staring long enough that your eyes prick with tears. You remind yourself to blink and you seat yourself at the high-top, the stool swiveling slightly when your bottom meets the material.

“Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He asks, turning to look at you over his shoulder. His traps are distracting you. You want to chew your fingernails past the nail bed- bite a finger off too. You can’t stand it. For a moment- the way he talks to you- you’re pretending you’re not his daughter. And then a moment later, you’re not being delusional anymore.

“Mhm.” You mumble sleepily- wishing you’d have stayed in bed longer. But piercing morning light, lack of blackout curtains, and the chirping of birds outside made that idea inconceivable. Leon chuckled to himself- turned away from you.

You decide to scroll through your phone for a moment’s time before he slides a plate to you from across the island.

“Breakfast a la Leon.” He says- clearly being silly. Corny as fuck, anyways.

“You’re old.” You snort, setting aside your phone and grabbing a fork to pick at your food until he turns away again. You didn’t enjoy the idea of having a hot, shirtless man watching you eat.

He shakes his head, sitting down next to you at the island.

Christ. Fucking go away. It’s actually enraging now.

You want to scream at him- it’s irrational and crazy- but you do. Screaming at him and being sent away to a ward sounds more appealing than the anxiety crawling up your spine like a horde of fire ants. Potentially- just like the butterflies- they’re real too.

He seems undisturbed as he settles- taking a bite. You do the same- trying to ignore the fact he's so close you can nearly feel his arm hair touching you every second or so. He breaks the silence after a moment.

“So- after this, I’ve got a whole day planned out. Mall, movies, and dinner. Sound good?” You nod, a soft ‘mhm’ reverberating on the roof of your mouth.

He finishes before you and makes his way upstairs- the occasional pain in his back unmistakeable every few steps. And yet he wants to take you to the mall to walk around? You didn’t even know how to feel about a day with your dad. What’s a dad? What’s daddy-daughter bonding? That’s lost to you- well- more like it was never even discovered. Not even Columbus could have ventured out and conquered it.

Since he’s no longer in the room, you hastily eat the rest of your breakfast before you discard the plate and fork into the way-too-elaborate dishwasher your mom had installed (you totally didn’t spend 10 minutes trying to turn it on).

Back in your room, you settle on a simple, totally not underlyingly slutty outfit. Shorts and a crop top. Can never go wrong with that. It’s just soft/core prom enough for an outing with your dad. When you leave your room- Leon is just headed down the stairs. He turns to look at you, his smile is as jovial as it has been since you’ve seen him. For a moment though, you think you catch his eyes landing on your exposed legs- but you know you’re just crazy. You’re the one lusting after him, not the other way around. Your dad isn’t abnormal like you. His head is on correctly- even if it’s been battered and spun on his shoulders throughout the years.

“Ready?” He asks, stopping in place to wait for you. You nod stupidly, breaking from your trance to follow him in a descent down the stairs.

He’s dressed similar to how he was yesterday- jeans and a t-shirt that should be considered indecent. If you were your mom, you’d beg him to wear something that doesn’t highlight every curve and dip of his chest. Hell, if you were your mom, you’d never let him go outside. Too risky. But you’re not your mom. You’re just unusual.

As a perfect man does, he opens the door for you. Then opens the SUV door, allowing you in before shutting it behind. You’re sure you've never met a guy that does that in real life, but maybe it was a ‘you’ problem and not the guy. Who knows.

When he gets in, he cranks the vehicle only for rock music to start playing from the radio- making the corners of his mouth dimple with a pleased look. Really are the simple things for him. As for you, you’re suffocated in a Hellish torment by both his presence and the expensive scent of cologne and leather seats combo.

The ride isn’t long, nor bad. Albeit you two only talk here and there so he can focus on the road- and so you can focus on not dying (he’s not a perfect driver, but not terrible either). Just enough to keep your nerves teetering between a light anxiety attack and full blown panic.

You’re relieved to get there alive. Maybe not. Your thoughts have you thinking suicide may be your only option for now disgusting they are. And it only gets worse when he helps you down from the step up of the SUV- a hand on your exposed waist and the other on your shoulder. It’s harmless. Just a dad being gentlemanly. He was shaped and carved out in that perfect, chivalrous image with only a mallet and hammer. No reason to make it weird.

Inside the mall is a tad busy- the perfect amount to be comforting. You feel a bit more at ease in a public setting since you can now focus on anything but your dad’s chest. As long as he doesn’t require eye contact or talk to you, that is.

He looks around, arms crossed. It’s almost whorish. He has to know his arms look good. Or that his everything looks good. The fuck.

“So…” He cranes his head to the side, bangs brushing over his nose for a moment. The way he looks around makes his Adam’s apple and neck muscles a little more prominent. A perfect, stubbled spot to attack with your lips.

“What do you feel like doing first, kiddo?”

You. Is what you want to say.

He looks back to you, smiling down amused. He seems genuinely happy to be able to take you out. But really- his face is making you nauseous. Obviously not because it’s bad. But because it’s good-bad. Too good it’s bad.

“Uhh… “ you look away from him, scanning the entrance area and looking at any signs. Almost like an escape.

“How about new clothes maybe? Seems like something got ahold to the other half of your pants anyways.” He nudges you with an elbow, gesturing to your shorts with his head.

So he probably did look at your legs earlier. Maybe not in the way you think, though.

You glare at him.

“Seriously?”

Leon puts his hands up in defense. He’s always on the defense in life anyways.

“Joking, joking. You’re…grown.” His forehead lines crease when he raises his brows. You did get rather annoyed at his comment, however.

“I could always buy some even shorter.” You spit sarcastically.

“Yes- because every father wants to walk around with their daughter who has her ass out.” He’s quick to remark, this time he seems grumpier when he talks. Sorta like he’s uncomfortable with the conversation. Or that he’s mad.

“Sorry my legs make you so uncomfortable. I guess I should’ve left them at home.” The back and forth here could go on forever between you two but he catches you off guard.

“Shit- no. It’s not that- ‘s just you’ve got nice legs. Can’t have these…shitheads eying down my little girl. I may be old, but I can fight when I need to.”

You know he meant his words innocently enough, but the fact that he said nice legs has you giddy inside. Same feeling when your crush calls you pretty. Yeah- that sorta feeling. And his little girl. It has a ring to it. Could even legally change your name to it so that he can call you by it more often. Maybe he’ll even let you jump on his dick right away.

Your face is pure rose-shaded. A perfect, neutral shade to make your embarrassment pop on your skin. You’re sure it’s visible to him, too. Your mom always teased you about how blotchy it would get when you were humiliated. Particularly when she would tell awkward stories about you at family dinners. Bitch.

“What’s wrong? Don’t be pissed at me, sweetheart. I was just teasin-“

“It’s not that.” You interrupt- heart thumping into your rib cage. If it doesn’t stop, or you don’t stop your word-vomit, it might crack a rib or four. Probably more. Better have hospital bill and therapy money ready, dad.

“Then what’s the matter? I just want us to have a good time together. I’m not trying to upset y-“

“You said I have nice legs.” You’re quick to cut him off again.

“And…?” He trails off, cocking his head to the side like he’s confused. Because he is confused. You stare off to the side- eyes glued to the fountain. Maybe you could go drown yourself in the penny-flavored water that you guarantee hasn’t been changed out since you were still the unlucky sperm in your dad’s ball-sack.

“I like that. You saying that.” You speak a little lower now- afraid someone will hear. Or because the tinnitus is so loud in your ears. What you’re getting at is almost clear now. Or at least clear enough.

Leon’s expression is taken aback but still confused to an extent because he’s not even certain what you’re saying. Though, he has an idea.

“Oh- uh. Okay. Sweethea-“

“Holy fuck- stop calling me that. You’re not making this easy. Wanting to fuck you. I know- I sound mental.” You spill it out, guts on the floor and the sword still in hand. Holy shit. Just told your dad you want to fuck him. You could have backtracked- fucking dumbass. You won’t be shocked if he packs his bags and leaves off again tomorrow.

He’s silent for a moment.

“Okay- clearly I wasn’t around enough. I get that. But I mean- fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking around. Probably thinking the same thing about the fountain that you did. Still- he looked hot while having a crisis and contemplating immediate suicide. He paces while your nerves are being electrocuted in your body. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“Just- sweetheart, no. None of that’s.. I can’t.” He starts, turning back to you. It seems he can look you in the eyes now. So maybe he’s not entirely disgusted by you. His face isn’t contorted with disgust, so there’s a chance. Yeah, you’re off your rocker now. You know.

“Look- let’s not talk about this. C’mon. Let’s go catch a movie like I promised.” He starts walking- leaving you standing in a puddle of shame and embarrassment for a moment before stopping to let you catch up.

Luckily- the theater is joined to the mall. It’ll be a short walk.

—

Leon is lax on the couch until he hears the crunchy sound of tires on concrete. You’re home. Despite his shitty back, he's huffing as he gets up fast and is already opening the door. The air is hot as it greets his skin and he watches you struggle with your suitcase through the heat-haze that spans over the distance.

He calls out to you- making your head snap in his direction. Your face is that of awe and confusion. You don’t seem to immediately recognize him- okay. He gets it. It’s been a while. Nevertheless, you’re beautiful. He’d seen pictures of you from your mother, but he’s in awe just as you are. Though, he doesn’t think that highly of himself so he often wonders if you’re even his kid. Couldn’t have made something that perfect, in his mind. He helps you with your bag and follows you to your room. But your demeanor around him is noticeably mousey. At first, it doesn't seem like much. You’re just getting used to him.

Plus, Leon knows he can come off intimidating. Sometimes. But for him, he’s got a good eye and his job has led him to being able to read even the tiniest bits of body language. Doesn’t take him long to see how you’re worming around shyly- subconsciously smoothing your hair down and biting at your lip. Same way your mom acted around him before they started dating. But again- maybe it’s just in his head. Leon’s been wrong a time or two.

A better man would have left it alone. Leon gets that. But an innocent thigh squeeze at dinner can help him test his theory. A thigh squeeze that’s under the guise of friendly, fatherly touch. You tense- he can hear your small, sucked in breaths as long as his hand is there, along with heat radiating off your body like a wildfire. If wildfires could be horny college-aged daughters with daddy issues, that is.

The idea disgusts him. Because he should feel disgusted and just kill himself. Where did these thoughts come from? He even has the urge to let his hand wander other places. Bets that you have a cute pussy. No matter what it does or doesn’t look like, it’s yours and he knows it's cute. He’d give you two thick digits in your hole (three if you allow him) and have his tongue kitten-lick your clit.

“There we go. Good girl.” Is what he envisions saying before diving back in for a mouth full of you. Girls like you love being praised. Especially by their estranged father-figure or a middle aged man. It’s all the same. He’d pry the daddy issues right out of you with his dick. It’s long and fat enough, and solves all of his matters properly. Your mom is in a bad mood? His dick will fix that. He can’t sleep? His dick will fix that. His daughter is a horny freak and begging for it? His dick will fix that, too- obviously.

It’s only when your mom makes some stupid fucking joke about his memory loss that he snaps back into reality and he loses the momentum he had going for an erection. Which is good. Maybe thinking about fucking your mom will make him normal again. So he drops a quip right back- something about… being useful. Yeah. Again, his cock is useful. Your mom bites at his words, but you’re annoyed and disgusted with his comment- especially with his hand on you while he says it.

Trust me, baby. Much rather be splitting you open than having performative, mandatory spousal sex. It’s like a switch flipped. He’s not interested in your mom. Should’ve had that realization years ago, even. Technically he did. He’s just now saying it in his head finally. Mostly he was exhausted because she had nothing to do with Leon even when he was home (unless it was for dick). Too bad he was a golden retriever following after her every step like a good doggy. Marriage did that to a guy. He just did what he was supposed to. Kept the lights on, blew out her back occasionally, listened to her complain, and took care of the lawn when he could. Easy enough. That’s what men do, right? He doesn’t really know what being a man is, honestly. Thanks, Major Krauser. Anyhow- he chokes down his food with a smile. The need to upchuck after everything he just thought up is a given.

He takes the liberty to fuck your mom later that night as promised per (faux) flirting over dinner. He has her face down-ass up, though. For… imagination’s sake. At least fucking a pussy and imagining you is better than his hand and imagining you. Or so he tells himself. Call it killing two birds with one stone, satisfying your mom and quelling his own desires. And it’s not hard to imagine any of it, because you look so much like your mother. He lies awake for a short while after- contemplating his existence and fucked up thoughts. He’s still holding back vomit and the urge to grab his gun from the nightstand and off himself all over the wallpaper, while in the process, traumatizing your mom. After an hour of this- he figures it’s fine, men think of perverted or weird shit sometimes. Jerk off to weird shit too. He hasn’t technically done anything morally wrong… sort of. It’s denial. At least he’s good at playing the part of a genuine, loving father. Because he is! He loves his family. Always has!

Spending time with you would make you happy, him happy, your mom happy. He loves you dearly. All is great. He’s swearing that his brain won’t be smoothied in his skull by tomorrow. It’ll be normal and function rationally.

But Leon wakes up with the thoughts being real as ever while he stretches an arm out to feel around for your mother- bed empty since she leaves at the ass crack of dawn. Leon had just missed her leave, he’s still getting used to sleeping in ever since he retired.

He gets up and heads downstairs- immediately starting breakfast to take his mind off his…mind. Breakfast is his favorite meal of the day, it makes him feel better to indulge in it right now. Though, he doesn’t bother putting a shirt on at any point- just rocking those generic, green and blue tartan patterned pajama pants. Cooking shirtless is weird- but he’s hungry and part of him wonders if he’ll get to see your priceless face when you walk into the kitchen. He shakes his head- telling himself that he just had this talk with himself last night. None of that shit.

He was right about one thing. God, he could make a killing in betting. He sees your reflection behind him in the small window above the counter but you didn’t know that. Just stood, gawking. It’s okay. He’s observative, you’re not. You’re his dumb little girl. Dumb in the way you shift in your stool next to him when he sits down, dumb how you hold your breath when he’s near, dumb how you can’t even eat next to him, and dumb how your thighs seem to wriggle when his arm ‘accidentally’ brushes yours. Oh, he’s definitely not wrong.

Still- he knows when to back off. He hounds down his food, before you even make a dent in your plate, and heads upstairs to shower. He’s analyzing every detail of himself, contemplating how he can get under your skin the most- his knuckles gripping the sink with distaste for himself. Because it’s wrong. He’s acting like a teenager. This is a date with his daughter, not his highschool girlfriend.

Leon skips over shaving his face. Likes to keep it a little grown out but not too much so. Just in case he gets the chance to eat (your) pussy or kiss (your) a neck. Then comes the Dior ‘Sauvage’ body wash he never failed to keep with him. He takes pride in smelling good if anything. And this particularly expensive wash, plus the cologne, was his lifeline for that. When he traveled for work- the D.S.O. better have god damned had some sent to his room as courtesy. Ever since Raccoon City- he’s adamant about not smelling less than great. He swears he can still smell the sewer on himself sometimes, even if it’s not really there.

His hair routine was even more extensive and involved a weekly hair mask. Hey- it wasn’t wrong for a guy to have nice hair. It paid off.

Heat protectant, blow dry, hot-comb to get any cow licks or fly-aways he might have- though it’s unlikely- and a little spritz of biotin spray to keep it healthy and shiny. All of that in reasonable time, too. And no- it's not weird for him to spend longer on his hair than your mom does.

Besides, you seem to appreciate the way he looks when you come out of your bedroom- watching him descend the stairs. Leon looks back at you- eyes on your legs momentarily then coming back up. He knows it was a quick look- quick enough to make you question it. You do. Very much. Still, taking you out in public wearing those shorts is less than ideal for him, but he’s the one who needs to be watched closely. Aforementioned, Leon’s great at pretending. Pretending to be normal. Pretending to not have ulterior motives. Pretending to not want your legs on his shoulders as he-

“All ready?” He interrupts himself here. Can’t let his thoughts keep going too far. Even if he does want to rest a hand on your leg while he drives. Or veer off the road and into a tree so that he can’t continue to be disgusting. He’d die with the image of being a good, wholesome dad in everyone’s mind. And if you did or didn’t die too, at least you would have died not having been fucked silly by your old man. He manages to not kill you both, though. He wasn’t planning to- his driving is just ass. He knows whiskey with his breakfast isn’t ideal but when you��re a recovering alcoholic plus post traumatic stressed failure of a father, it helps.

Can’t complain though since he gets to put his hands on you while helping you out of the vehicle.

Now you’re both in the mall- Leon questioning what exactly he’s supposed to do now. He hasn’t been to one since… he doesn’t have enough fingers for that. But you’re seemingly calm. Until he makes a stupid joke about your shorts. Sure. As much as he’s thinking about ripping a hole in the crotch to fuck you cause he’s impatient and stupid- he said it out of genuine concern.

He still has fatherly instinct. Some sick bastard could get a glimpse of your exposed legs and go jerk off to it or take a photo. Ironic coming from him right now. The call is coming from inside the house but the dad is too busy fiending after his own daughter to answer.

You’re royally pissed. He knows it. Women don’t like having it insinuated that they’re dressed like a whore. Big whoop, though. Someone has to say it. Then you blindside him. Big, needy eyes and saying you like it when he tells you your legs are nice. Then something about how you want to fuck him. Christ. What the fuck. He’s not sure if this is some kind of screwy set-up or you’re actually just so slutty that the only dick you’ll accept is your dad’s. He’s rocking a semi now. Would be a full hard-on if he weren’t in public but his head spins cause all the blood went to his loins too fast.

Leon doesn’t accept the advances yet. Not now, anyways. He’s mortified. He really thought he had himself going in delusion about how you were behaving- but he was actually right. And now being confronted with it… he’s fucking scared - that’s for sure. Hmm. Be a morally acceptable human or fuck your needy, whore daughter silly? He shakes his head and lets out an exhale.

That question needs some thought. No, it doesn’t. He knows better than to do any of that shit, right? He takes a moment to start walking while you follow along shamefully- the two of you headed to the theater. A movie is perfect. Don’t have to talk or anything. No interacting, really. But how the fuck is he just going to forget what you said? Sure, he’s been having questionable thoughts but they’re just thoughts. Your words, however, spoke it into existence. Like a fucked up, frankenstein’s monster of father-daughter reality.

Don’t mind us, everyone. Daughter’s got it real bad for me but I’m just going to take her to the movies and pretend it’s normal. Reality was distorted for him ever since the existence of zombies and BOWs anyway.

He lets you pick the movie- telling the attendant that he needs two tickets. It’s a horror movie. Of course. Something to trigger his PTSD, maybe. Then he could say anything he did after that was just accidental. A mental slip. He goes to fork over the $60 for tickets and popcorn- god, when did shit get so expensive? As he’s pulling out the cash, he sees you give him a look like you want to say something. His mind is racing looking at you- it makes him nervous.

“Uh.. what about candy?” You ask, looking away from him and at the display.

“What? Sour worms?” He questions you, laughing. Not in a mean way- but because it’s your favorite. So insignificant but he remembers. You were still a kid when he and your mom took you to see some milked out children’s movie that was a part of an entirely too long series. He bought you two boxes of sour worms then. You were a weird kid, though. The worms were split into two colors, and you’d always bite them down the middle and make him eat the side you didn’t like. But he’d do it. Gladly.

You nod, a little befuddled that he’d remember something like that. Cute. Too bad your weird ass just told him you wanted to fuck him about 15 minutes ago. So not entirely a cute moment.

“Oh- and two boxes of Sour Worms, please.” He adds, now pulling out a little more cash.

You both respectively grab your own drinks- Leon with popcorn in tow and you, your worms and cherry soda. His hands are full but he manages to flash the movie ticket between his index and middle finger to the usher, who then ripped it in half and pointed to the left end of the hallway.

You both don’t say anything, but you immediately race to the very top row like a child once inside the screening. Leon swears under his breath as he follows you like a geriatric snail. If a snail could have lumbar issues. He’s able to make it up the stairs to you quite some time after and takes the seat next to you that’s closest to the aisle. Safety and all that jazz.

Previews are already playing so it gives him peace of mind to not address the awkwardness between the two of you. Your soda is in the cup holder that’s separating you both, but you lean over to take a sip, cheeks hollowed out while you drink. Of course Leon looks over, fuck.

Pretty little lips wrapped around the straw until you pull off of it with a satisfied sigh. Cause you were thirsty from anxiety- like someone shoved gauze and cotton into your mouth.

He shifts in his seat and looks back at the screen. He doesn’t even know if you’re doing it on purpose. You’re not, however. He’s just a perverted dickhead.

Time passes and not a single soul has come into this screening. It’s Monday at 11am, after all. Who the hell would come watch a horror movie at this time? No one except two fucking weirdos. It’s making Leon’s nails dig into the armrest with the other set scratching at his jeans.

The movie doesn’t start off bad, to Leon’s shock. He’s actually enjoying it and you seem just as entranced, pulling open the box of Sour Worms without looking down. You do wind up looking down, however, to bite one in half because it just so happened to be a blue and orange combo, and you hated the orange side.

“Here.” Leon turns to look at you- your eyes coming up to meet his blue ones that are oddly blue enough to the point that any light from the screen makes them pop. Pretty.

“The orange half. I know you don’t like them.” His voice is husky and low since the speakers are blaring some generic string-quartet horror piece. He nods down to the half chewed candy in your palm.

You pinch it between your fingers, bringing it to his mouth as your cunt throbs. He was expecting you to hand it to him, but the way you confidentially yet instinctively brought it to his lips isn’t entirely unwelcome. The emptiness of the theater makes it that way. Allows room for incest of whatever. He opens his mouth for you, and you go to place the sour treat on his tongue. His lips gently close around it, before he grabs your wrist to hold your arm in place. A hold gentle enough to tell you that if you want to snatch your hand away- feel free to do so. But you don’t. And you won’t. He knows.

Candy in cheek, he brings your fingers to his lips and nurses your knuckles with a kiss before puppeteering your hand with his larger one, working each digit so that he can equally suck each one clean. You’re amazed, aroused, and alarmed all at the same time. Amazed because he looks so gorgeous sucking on your fingers. Aroused for the obvious reason. Alarmed because duh, he’s your father and things can only go further from here.

Leon places your hand back onto the arm rest between you, chewing the halved sour worm now. As if he didn’t just give you the most visually appealing form of sexual affection in the history of womankind. The dryness of your mouth returns and you take another sip of your Cherry soda. Maybe you can drown yourself in it. No, stupid. That’s what the public bathroom toilets are for.

Right before you set the plastic cup into the cupholder again, Leon speaks.

“Ah, ah. Put it over there.” You don’t even hesitate to listen. Record timing for you doing anything. You don’t even know why you followed his instructions so quick.

“Good girl.” His words send lightning of excitement down your nerves and straight to your clit as he pushes the armrest between you upwards and out of the way. Because that’s a thing, for some reason. It’s like theaters want people to fuck, give head, and spread their diseases everywhere. And why does he know they move? You don’t even want to question it. Maybe he’s just a knowledgeable guy.

“Come here, honey. Let daddy kiss that pretty mouth.” Fucking Christ. This can’t be real. Doesn’t matter, ‘cause again, there’s zero hesitation on your part. Leon likes that. A woman that can follow orders. He’s so used to taking them, not giving them. And your mom isn’t one to listen to other people. Either way, if this goes south, Leon can always just off himself. He wasn’t around much so what difference would it make if he was permanently gone? The reassurance of being able to log out forever gives him courage here. It’s rational.

You scoot over since you’re free from any barriers or restrictions, and he puts an arm over you. You swear you almost hear your skin sizzle from the contact. You’re not a witch- and as far as you know, he’s not water. Even if he gets you wet. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and swipe a thumb over your bottom lip- teasing you.

“D-dad.” You stutter a protest- cringing that you sounded the way you did just now. Maybe you shouldn’t be embarrassed ‘cause he’s your dad- but you are embarrassed ‘cause he’s hot. You can’t even figure out why you wanna back out suddenly. Probably because the idea was better than betraying your mom and knowing yourself as someone who fucks their dad. Anywho- didn’t he say something about kissing you? Cause he’s not even doing as promised.

Your dad leans in, his free hand is now on your neck and angling it just to show you how easy he can manhandle your body. He plants a kiss on your earlobe before saying anything.

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t go giving daddy blue-balls now. It’s not polite to start things you don’t wanna finish.”

Leon’s words simultaneously gross you out and turn you on in a self-deprecating, disgusting kind of way. Not to mention he’s literally contradicting himself since he would gladly eat the half of the sour worms you didn’t want to finish- therefore entirely enabling you to start things you couldn’t finish. Hm. That must explain a large portion of your life, then. And besides all do that, doesn’t the know blue-balls is some kinda stupid myth or whatever?

His thumb falls down your lip and traces your jawline with intentional slowness while his eyes look over your face appreciatively- but it also seems as if he’s looking for or at something specific.

You get the courage to speak, air sucked fully into your lungs.

“Sorry, daddy.” The fuck is wrong with you? You could have said anything but that. It’ll only spur him on. But you want that, obviously.

He smirks, lips pressed together as the corners of his mouth do that same, pitted thing they do that you like so much. Must go hand in hand with how his chin is also dimpled. It’s sexy. But little do you know, it’s one of the reasons he keeps his stubble. Doesn’t feel like having his butt chin on display to the world- even if every woman that’s ever laid eye on him sees it and wants it buried in their cunt.

“That’s my girl. Didn’t even have to be around much to teach you that, did I?” Leon queries, grabbing your chin to crane your head just so that he can plant his lips onto your neck. His other hand is on your knee, unmoving. You want it to move, though. God- you’re sure whatever higher power is in the great sky is throwing up right now, moments away from pressing the reset button. The same higher power will make a new rule on humanity.

No free will and absolutely no incest. Yeah. Probably should have written that into the books ages ago, one fears.

You fidget as he kisses your neck, stubble scratching your epidermis yet tickling all the same.

“Not gonna answer me, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your throat, the neck kiss he gives it uses a bit of tongue- making your body jolt. “I know your mother taught you manners.”’

You mumble something pathetically apologetic, hands gripping the fabric over his shoulders. Hopefully your mom won’t notice his shirt being stretched out there- cause she notices everything.

“N-no, daddy. I knew it on my own.” You huff, that hand you wanted him to move is slowly doing so- fingers dragging along your inner thigh as if everything he’s doing to you is purposefully meant to be some kind of forewarning. But for what, exactly?

“Such a smart girl. Get that from daddy, you know it?” Ok, cocky…

Leon kisses his way back up your neck, jawbone, and then your cheek. It’s sweet- if being lavished with saccharine, sexual and inappropriate attention from your dad could be sweet.

You nod, feeling his grip loosen from your chin and now sliding up the back of your neck to tangle in your hair, threading it. He’s slow and deliberate- part of you wishes he’d not give you time to think about your actions. Not that you can really think anyways. Your heartbeat is muddled in your ears and the movie is still rumbling through the speakers while someone gets murdered on screen. Lucky them.

The hand on your thigh presses firmer into the skin just below the edge of your shorts, a silent telling for you to keep your attention on him.

“Sorry baby, daddy got distracted. Just so pretty.” He must be able to tell you’re impatient because he kisses your cheek (with an oddly dark undertone to it) before slimming the distance between your lips. He pauses right when they touch and you’re breathing in the taste-turned-scent of the sour worm you fed him earlier. Sugar and that weird orange flavor that is only specific to orange candy. You’re obviously not a fan, but it suits him.

You don’t get any time left to process before it’s a full on kiss- well, make out, actually. It’s slow. You can’t recall being kissed like this, ever. Normally it’s straight to tongue with guys, and not in, like, the good way. The ‘having an eel invading your oral cavity’ kind of way. Eugh.

But your dad’s tongue does brush yours, tastefully. You can actually feel the texture and it’s easy to tell there’s an erection fueling his actions- but not so much so that it takes over the whole kiss.

He uses your hair to pull you closer, teeth clashing momentarily. Not exactly the best feeling but everything else envelops your senses to the point that it’s only a flash of a moment. Your thigh is neglected by his touch, hand moving up and around onto your backside. He gives a squeeze to the fat of your ass and groans against your mouth before pulling you into his lap- legs folded on either side of his thighs.

You break the kiss, looking over your shoulder and to where the entrance is- the exit sign casting a nearby glow that gives you anxiety..

“Can’t- we’ll get caught.” You pant, that weird feeling that’s the grotesque love child of nervousness and excitement is swimming in your gut like a parasite before settling. The severity and realness of the situation sinks in.

Leon laughs low and mean, retracting his hand from your hair and moving to run it through the top of your scalp to push it back. He juts his hips upwards to prod his denimed erection into the cunt of your shorts. You mewl quietly, or maybe it was loud. The movie is just too deafening to distinguish which.

“Suppose you’re right, baby.” He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, leaning in to give you a light peck on the lips. “Told you you’re a smart girl, didn’t I? Can’t let me go around thinking with my dick, huh?”

His hand pats your thigh as if to tell you to get off.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Up.” He commands you with a huffed voice- not because he’s annoyed but because he’s a middle-aged man. Moving is hard. You ignominiously climb off of his lap, putting your bottom back onto the seat next to him. He’s looking at you, meandering a hand back onto your thigh just to rest in place.

You stare at the screen- but you can’t even register it because you’re too disassociated from what just happened. You almost want to beg him to fuck you right here- plead for forgiveness that you suggested stopping in the first place. And you can still taste that damned orange sour worm in your mouth.

Leon behaves, though. He’s good about that. Respectful. In the way of consent- not in the way of not tongue fucking his daughter in a public space. When the movie ends, he gestures for you to stand and you walk past him, carrying your empty cup and boxes of sour worms while the uncomfortable feeling of your slick clinging the gusset of your panties to your cunt. You look back at your father, the sight of him in the palely lit theater is a bit intimidating. He’s adjusting his pants for obvious reasons. You look away quickly and keep walking- a giddy feeling of satisfaction overcoming you. Shortly enough, you’re both back in the main area of the mall. You brush your shirt out and fix your hair- the thought occurs to you that maybe you look a little mussed and should have straightened up sooner.

But the daylight beaming through the sky roof brings you back to your senses.

“Hmm. What does my sweet girl want to get up to now?” Leon asks, intersecting his arms as he looks over you.

You think, mind fizzling as it short circuits. You almost smell smoke emanating from your head, too. How can you look him in the face right now?

“Uhh..” You really don’t know what to say. What can you focus on doing after everything that’s happened today?

“How about this? We can go home a little early and I’ll cook something up for lunch. The drive will give us time to work up an appetite.” He says, nonchalant. Right back to his same fatherly tone from earlier today instead of the ‘I want to split you open with my dick’ tone he had moments ago. Maybe he’s just being sweet and you’re overthinking.

You’re befuddled that he’s not saying anything else about… that. How can he so easily go from publicly groping you to acting cheery and normal? It’s frustrating. Disturbing even. Leon can see the disappointment on your face- but you don’t know that. You assume it’s well hidden, just like the fact you kissed your own father. He thinks it’s cute though. You’re just cock dumb for him. On the other hand, this whole situation is something he has to deal with.

“Got it.” You manage to say, walking a little faster than he does. This is the second time you’ve walked off from your dad, and it does irritate him because he can’t keep up like he used to. Displaced disc in his spine or whatever. Plus, he thinks you’re pissed. Which is worrying. Should have known better than to mess around with his own daughter, he supposes.

The drive back is silent and less terrifying than the previous, part of you thankful. Maybe he was only a bad driver in the morning. Unlikely, but not impossible. Maybe it was the fact that he drank whiskey with his breakfast. Hm. ‘Responsible’ in hindsight.

It’s still early in the afternoon when you arrive back home. The concrete is sizzling from the heat and the sun beats down way too uncomfortably for even a walk from the driveway to the front door.

Leon side-steps you to unlock the house before he urges you in. He may be morally reprehensible but he still didn’t want to let any cool air out- AC’s expensive. You plop down on the couch and he locks the door, walking past you and straight to the kitchen.

The tension is thick for you- but for Leon- not at all. You watch him disappear through the doorway as he goes to prep food. Why is it so hard to read his emotions? He’s like a fucking light switch. You’re annoyed- leaning back on the couch, until he calls for you. You’re quick to get up, scrambling into the kitchen.

“Hey, sweetheart. Mind giving me a hand?”

“Yeah. What is it?” You faintly cock your head to the side.

Leon looks to the side- directly at you. You’re cute when you’re confused. He can tell that all you’re thinking about is continuing where you two left off earlier. Shit, you’re no better than your mother. ‘S just that you’re not crabby and sour all the time like she is.

“Can you grab the saucepan from the bottom cabinet. Your old dad can’t exactly bend over too well.” He laughs- shaking his head. Yes, dad. I get it. I know you have a bad back.

You walk over to the cabinet where he’s leaned onto one hand which is rested on the marbled countertop. You feel a bit apprehensive to be close to him again. Mostly because you don’t trust yourself to not jump his bones, but Leon’s already ahead of you. As soon as you bend over, he pulls you back by the hips so that your ass is flush with his groin.

You’re taken aback but definitely not surprised. He’s a dirty old man, as you’ve learned.

“Gonna let daddy fuck this pussy now, or are you getting flaky on me?” He coos against your ear while he runs his hands up your sides and down again- creeping his hands to your front and over the buttons of your shorts- unhooking them through the slits.

“Yes.. want it.” You breathe in quick- the word coming out on its own. If god could hear you right now, he’d set your house ablaze with lightning.

“Need you to loosen up if I’m going to. You’re way too stiff.” Your shorts are the opposite of you, loose and unfastened fully so they fall to your ankles, and Leon nudges your feet apart with his boot. You realize he’s got a point as you feel his calloused hand glide down your hip and yank you in place. The other hand is spreading your pussy lips apart before finding that fleshy bud between them. A moan rumbles in your throat as your legs almost give out below you. He mutters a curse under his breath, and you realize his cock is now out while he rubs up against your ass- getting off on not only playing with your pussy but from dry humping you.

“Fucking christ. Got the prettiest ass, baby. Think daddy needs to see it bouncing on his cock.” You can practically feel that stupid, smug look as he grabs his dick- slapping it on your ass. It makes you cringe a little, but maybe you should be cringing at the fact your dad is the one doing it. You figure it’s just something he saw in porn, so it doesn’t leave your expectations high at the moment. Great. Leon adjusted himself back into his pants, for now.

His finger continues circling that bundle of nerves, your legs shaky as you’re being pressed into the counter, a hand is on your lower back to keep you down so he can do what he wants. You sound stupid- tears welling in your eyes as you babble nonsensically about wanting to cum. He moves his hand off of your back and sinks to his knees to be face level with you (even if it makes his back hurt a little), sliding his fingers up your inner thigh until there’s a digit prodding your hole, slowly pushing in.

He watches your cunt swallow his finger, barely able to fit it inside.

“Fucking shit, baby. Gonna have to stretch this pussy out if I want my cock in you, huh? Think you can let daddy do that?” He asks, breathy and sounding like he’s trying not to bust all over himself.

You eagerly shake your head.

“Yes, daddy. Need you to get me loose.” The words spill like a hot cup of tea from your lips, scalding Leon with desire.

“God damned. Such a polite fucking girl I’ve got. Might have to eat your mother out later to thank her for making you so respectful.”

You scrunch your face in disgust.

“That’s fucking gross.” You moan, Leon slipping a second finger into you, which should technically feel like four with how worn and big his hands are.

He tuts, planting a kiss to your asscheek.

“Now, didn’t daddy just compliment you? Could be a bit more grateful since he’s trying to make you cum” He grits, sounding a bit (terrifyingly) stern.

You apologize again.

“Sorry, daddy. Just don’t wanna hear about you and mom. Makes me jealous.” You admit, briefly thinking about their dinner conversation last night. Then about how fucking weird you are. You’re really hoping you get the courage to bash your head on the marble countertop and get amnesia.

Leon laughs, but in a way that makes you think he’s amused more than actually laughing.

“God. Want me to stop fucking my own wife just ‘cause you’ve got a needy pussy?” A third finger slips in, making an almost unbearable stretch as you feel a slight ache, but the previous two fingers already did enough work that it’s not completely unbearable.

“Maybe you’re not that grateful. Giving you three fingers here and she’s still too tight.” He twists his hand, letting the inside of you feel every inch of his knuckles and calluses. Your knuckles, however, are ghost-white as you grip at nothing.

“Maybe your fingers are just too small.” You say- mostly from built up tension and annoyance that you didn’t get to let out yet. But you regret the words.

He’s silent- which scares you. He pulls his fingers out of you- the stark contrast in emptiness is clear and the cool air stings you.

Leon groans as he stands up, kicking off his boots before yanking you by the arms to stand straight. He leans into your ear.

“C’mon. You’re gonna come sit on daddy’s dick, since you’re too fucking picky.” Goosebumps form all over you as he leads you to the couch. Leon leaves you standing there so he can get comfortable and discard his clothing, lying back with his hands behind his head. You make a mental note of how his biceps look with his arms bent in this position, even if you kinda feel like it’s lazy. But holy fuck, his toned stomach is perfect- sprinkled with a happy trail that will definitely lead you somewhere that will make you happy. Speaking of, his dick is nice. Fat. Not sure how big it is since you have not much to compare to, but you’d imagine taking it would be a bit of a proper challenge.

You step a little closer- crawling awkwardly over his lap- ass faced towards him so that you settle on his waist. It’s hard not to feel self conscious about your backside in this position, even considering the fact that he was just fingering you from the back moments ago. You’re mostly just upset you can’t gawk at his tits or stomach.

You grab him by the base, shifting yourself to hover directly over him, letting the tip graze your wet hole before slowly sinking down- a drawn out moan escaping you.

“Fuckkk. That’s it. Sit down on it. Take all of daddy.” You glance over your shoulder as you bottom him out; his eyes are half-lidded. Well, at least he’s got a pretty face while you’re fucking him. You almost failed to realize his hands moved from behind his head to your ass- gliding up your back and down again.

You take a moment to adjust, breathing shakily ‘cause his dick is so fat you think you might die. Or maybe you’re having a heart attack at your ripe age.

“Didn’t tell you to take any breaks, did I baby?” You’re annoyed at his pushiness, but you did have a bit of a sour attitude earlier. So you can only blame yourself.

You’re not sure how to entirely do this, but you move yourself up and down. Not at a fast pace, yet. Just that savoring your dad’s dick seems like a reasonable ordeal.

He doesn’t shut up, though. You’re learning just how much he likes to talk- as if he just wants to hear himself. Is he even getting off on you or the sound of his own voice? It makes you roll your eyes even if you do like hearing him say dirty shit.

"That’s my girl. So fucking good. Ride it nice and slow... Work that sweet pussy on daddy's cock.” You just might fall over dead hearing him say any of it- it’s disgusting but sweet Jesus are you eating it up. He must know it too because of how you clench around him involuntarily when he talks like that.

“You like when daddy praises you? Yeah, you love me telling you how good you are.” His words are husky and yet pleased with the previous tidbit of information.

“See how nice I am? Letting you sit on my cock after you made me wait earlier. Wasn’t very nice of you, now was it, baby?” His words have an underlyingly mocking tone, but you’d do anything to make him change it.

“No, daddy. Was really mean of me.” You whine pitifully, bouncing yourself on his dick like it’s your major in college and you’re trying to pass with flying colors.

“I know, baby. But daddy forgives you.” He murmurs, sitting up with you still on top of him. He’s flush against your back now- reaching in front of you to make those same tight circles on your clit. You both exchange your pitchy moans and his grunting and groaning- working up to a good point in both of your impending orgasms.

“Gonna cum in this pussy, got it? Daddy doesn’t like to pull out.”

You scramble a bit, squirming on his lap.

“Fuck, dad! You can’t do that!” You whine as his other arm holds you onto him- wrapped around your stomach. Your nails dig into his forearms, hopefully not leaving noticeable scratches.

“I think I can, baby. You’re squeezing me at the idea- I’m not fucking stupid.” He’s quick to be mean again, but you’d be a liar to say you’d don’t want him to cum in you. And you’re not a liar, that’s just deplorable- coming from someone who is literally fucking their dad with enough energy to power a small village for a month. And yet, you don’t stop riding him.

And your silence tells it all.

“Yeah- my baby wants a nice creampie.” He sounds more strained now, letting go of his hold on your stomach and using his hand to now guide you to roll your hips on him.

Sweat beads down Leon’s forehead, bangs sticking to his face as he watches your ass grinding against his lap.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that. I’m gonna cream this tight fucking pussy. Want that, don’t you? ‘Cause daddy’s gonna give it to you whether you want it or not.”

You should be a little more upset or concerned in any regard right now, but the last two days have made you into a proper whore to the point that you don’t even give a shit. Self respect crawled itself into a space shuttle and launched off of the planet, probably to never be seen again. Stuck in orbit, if you will.

You’re sucked out of the motions when Leon speaks again.

“Stop, stop.” He pats your bottom.

“Turn around, baby. I wanna see your face. Wanna kiss those lips while you’re on my dick.” Your stomach flutters with nervousness and a sickly sweet feeling. You lifted yourself from him with a trail of arousal to follow and maneuvered to turn around- this time he was holding his cock ready for you. Moments went by of you staring, getting a proper look of him since everything had been a quick blur so far.

“Come on, baby. Need you to mount daddy’s cock again. Told you I wanted to kiss you, didn’t I?” He exhaled, sounding a bit pent up. Jeez- seconds without pussy and he’s getting upset. Maybe he needs a therapist and anger management, not his college-aged daughter spearing herself on him.

You replied, yes, daddy. Sorry, daddy. Didn’t mean to make you wait, daddy.

You dropped yourself down onto him once more- only this time it was easier since you were able to get accustomed to his dick.

“Start moving sweetheart, make daddy cum.” He instructed, leaning in to take you in a kiss. It was more dirty than the last kiss, somehow. His tongue slipped between your lips- Leon lifted you with his hands on your waist before jutting his hips up to slam his cock snugly into your heat, groaning against your mouth delightfully.

His teeth nipped your lower lip- giving you a little further taste of just what kind of lover he is. Or maybe this is just the version you get. Either way, you can’t complain in any area. You feel lucky to receive even a sliver of it.

The familiar roughness of his thumb returns to your already throbbing bud- circling at the same pace he’s now moving at. Despite his age, he seems awfully enthusiastic to do strenuous work involving his hips. Bad back, my ass. Or maybe he’s able to put that on the back burner to please you. Probably worried if he doesn’t give you good dick then you’ll go tattle on him.

Leon didn’t break the kiss whatsoever while he pounded into you ruthlessly, he swallowed up every moan and noise you made like it was alcohol. ‘Cause that was his favorite, obviously.

When he pulled his mouth off of yours, a trail of saliva lingered- stretching out while you giggled on top of him. Something about you laughing almost made him nut immediately, but he held out just to prolong this and let it engrain into his mind for certain.

“Got the prettiest baby- look so good on my cock like this. Want daddy to bust in that pretty pussy?” He asked, looking for your approval.

“Uh-huh. Need daddy to knock me up.” The words came from god knows where, making even your eyes look bewildered for a second.

Leon laughed darkly at you.

“God, baby. Daddy’s so fucking close.” He muttered stupidly, almost like he was drunk. At least this could be an ego boost for you- but the fact it was your dad canceled that out. Dick only counts if it’s from someone that’s not related to you. His eyes did that half-lidded thing from earlier that you found so hot, and he pulled you down onto his cock one last time, spilling thick ropes into your blood-related hole. His dick pulsed as he let out a muted grunt, head lolling back and his adam's apple on full, stubbly display. You could bite it, just like a real apple.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He moaned. Jeez. He was a whore, honestly. The way he made noises and didn’t shut the fuck up was honestly… a case that should be studied. Maybe he had been turned out a time or two himself.

His cock didn’t soften though, nor did he not forget about you cumming. He lifted his head back up, looking down at where his thumb was. It was almost like he read your thoughts, not saying a word as he concentrated on making you cum. ‘Cause earlier he had been too eager to get in you and you were too eager to get on him.

Your nails dug into his shoulders (hopefully your mom wouldn’t notice any marks on him when she gets home from work later) and he gently fucked into you while you received proper attention on your aching clit. The combination of his dick keeping you full and the sensation of his digit sent you throbbing through your orgasm around him- low curses and other disgusting things coming out of both your mouths.

‘Cause you’re both disgusting.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy death island #leon kennedy vendetta #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy #tw inc*st #tw #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #leon s kennedy smut

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tozettastone · 2 months

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AKATSUKI RANKED BY PARENTING SKILLS

First, an honourable mention goes to Orochimaru, who would win this ranking effortlessly but who is no longer part of the Akatsuki.

10. Zetsu is more or less disqualified because he reproduces by creating exact clones of himself. You are his clone, and you are the parent and the parented, the sibling, the self; sometimes all of the above all at once. Don't worry about it.

9. Hidan finds his kid fascinating and funny as fuck. Irrational tantrums about being handed an object they desperately wanted 3 minutes ago? He's laughing. Cute questions about the nature of society that Hidan has never once contemplated the answers to? So funny! Breaking their arm for the sixth time? Absolutely hilarious. The problem with Hidan is that being charmed and amused, and indeed feeling genuine affection, will in no way prevent him from exploring the outer limits of your capacity for suffering, and this only gets worse the more responsible for you he is. He loves you a lot and you will not survive to adulthood.

8. Sasori is adequate at servicing a child's basic needs for care and keeping. He is not a demonstrative parent but he is surprisingly receptive to a child's displays of affection and rarely turns them away. They remind him of his own relationship with his parents — his first foray into his craft, in which he preserved their bodies and made them embrace him as he imagined parents ought to. He understands the emotional component to development with his current, synthetic detachment. He is not very patient, and he's prone to just intervening in your brain chemistry when you frustrate him, which is not a great way to live. The other problem with Sasori as a parent, of course, is that at every moment he feels a sliver of affection for you, he contemplates whether it would be worth it to preserve that "you" forever. Eventually, the clockwork in his head will tick over, and you'll become the most beloved puppet in his collection.

7. Kakuzu swings between strict and angry at some times, and flatly indifferent at others; he's strict and angry when his emotions are engaged, which he hates, and combats with icy apathy. Sometimes he will be angry and indifferent about exactly the same topics on different days. This is a man who will hit a kid for not magically knowing something that he, their only parent, should have been the one to teach them about. He is at his best when he can be a mostly-benign acquaintance in his child's life. The single saving grace with Kakuzu is that you can just leave and he will take months to come after you, if he ever does. Don't expect a birthday card.

6. Itachi is utterly unprepared to be the carer for a child but approaches it with the same steady and dubiously-deserved self confidence with which he approaches everything. He is sometimes affectionate, but he is also relentlessly critical and he will use genjutsu torments as a "harmless" parenting tool, because they are obviously less damaging than corporeal punishment. (It has not occurred to him that a zero-violence approach to child rearing might be, theoretically, possible.) His expectations will only rise over time as he comes to like you better, and his treatment of you will become correspondingly harsher. Expect to jump at shadows until you're 39 and sobbing into your therapist's rug. On this list, you could do worse, but I can't help but feel that regularly obliterating a child's trust in the basic tenets of reality is courting a really severe mental illness.

5. Tobi will have a nervous breakdown about his fitness for interpersonal attachments, which he won't acknowledge as a nervous breakdown. He will then respond with complete mental and emotional detachment from his child, strap them to him in a sling and carry them through Akatsuki missions. Their crying will cause a stealth-based plan to fail, multiple times. Tobi will performatively panic every time they cry, and he will play with them any time they like — all the better if it annoys everyone around him. The problems start when you get older and can speak, which is about when it becomes steadily less convenient for him to treat you as a prop in his bizarre fantasy theatre. The more articulate you become, the less interested Tobi is. Where did his cute baby go? :( Expect a relatively physically safe but unstable childhood, oscillating between overwhelming, intense, nonsensical and occasionally cruel parental attention and complete absence. You will learn not to rely on other people for anything, and to tense up whenever someone says they love you.

4. Deidara has absolutely no desire to be responsible for ANY human being, including, often, himself. He resents every second of time your existence steals away from himself and his own projects, and although he intellectually understands that a child can't help needing stuff, he really does regard it as stealing from him. You're a gross, hooked little knife in his side, tugging him away from thoughts of himself and his art. He can't wait until you're old enough to leave on your own for long periods of time, and as he's a shinobi, he thinks "old enough," is, like, maybe five. Expect a short, disrupted childhood full of terse lessons in how not to get blown up today, followed by trying very, very hard to avoid daddy's attention. On the other hand, this is a parent who does not want to give you any attention, which, on this list, can only be an advantage. I can't believe this is number 4.

3. Nagato tries his best but childhood is where the trauma lives, and so every childhood milestone hits him with a rush of agonising memories like a lightning strike. You will become a proxy for him in his haphazard efforts to reparent himself, and he will be equally upset if you're exactly like him OR if you're totally different to him. You will never fully understand his relationship with himself and he will never understand that he's meant to be cultivating a relationship with you. Still, you could do worse.

2. Konan is a composed parent. She manages her own fears and anxieties with icy repression, and that's also her approach to the loving attachments of parenthood. Her child will be clean, educated, fed and sheltered appropriately at all times, but there has never once been an emotional need Konan has indulged. You will develop a deeply anxious attachment style and become a serial monogamist who is furious that nobody can live up to your expectations and terrified that the problem is you. (It is.)

1. Kisame does not wait until six months to give his baby water and he has a worryingly permissive approach to child safety in general. He puts up with pretty much any behavioural problem with steady I've-seen-it-all equanimity — except when his child is lying to his face, which is basically his single, glowing berserk button as an authority figure. He cares about his kid and will generally view them as a person and not as some kind of psychosocial manifestation of his own mental illness at least 50% of the time, which is why he wins the top spot on this cursed list. Kisame will tell you stories about how you must have eaten all your siblings in the womb to be born at all, and that means you're already the strongest possible kid he could have had. This is intended to be encouraging. Roll with it, dude. You could have got Hidan.

#naruto #akatsuki #akatsuki ranked #how did this get to be over 1k words???#who is writing all these words?

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angelique-isawineglass · 1 month

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𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲

(Lady Alcina Dimitrescu x F!Reader) [Lady Dimitrescu comforts Headmaiden!Reader during a stressful breakdown] ~Anxiety attacks/Hurt/Sad themes/Dissociating/If you are sensitive to or gain anxiety/mental breakdowns when connecting with online bad scenarios, please leave, I know they can be upsetting as hell and annoying to deal with. Please don't be afraid to cry if you need to, just promise you won't do it alone <3, love you all :3 ~ ~Little use of Y/N, grammar may be poor, misspellings probably frequant, Reader is over 30 (roughly 36-38), Reader overworks when stressed~ ~SFW~ ~ ~

Keeping more then 50 maids in line was hard. Not impossible, especially when you're as stern and strong as yourself. ... At least that's what you try to tell yourself. You love working for The Countess of Castle Dimitrescu after serving for years and years, but occasionally, some days just become a little bit too much. Today just happened to be one of those days.

Currently, you were cleaning windows in The Lady's private chambers, thoughts dancing about in your mind. This week had been full to the brim with bloody messes, incompetent maids and idiot moroaică managing to bust down the diningroom door, however the hell they manage to do it without being sliced to ribbons by The Mistress was anyones guess.

You had somehow managed to slip out of focus for a moment as the screams of what sounded like a male from the dungeon rung through the castle. Considering how long you had worked in Castle Dimitrescu for, the screams of maids and occasional hunters always managed to make you shudder. You didn't think you'd ever get used to it.

Unfortunately, thinking about what the daughters of The Lady were doing to whatever daft minded gentlemen attempting a break in at this time of year was being put through, did nothing for the bubbling anxiety creeping its way up your chest. You knew several of the people who had endured the wrath of Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters, however, you never really had too much of a relationship with any of them. You preferred to keep to yourself whenever you weren't handing out tasks and intructing newer maids of what to do. Still, the screams that echo through the kitchen everyday were less then appealing.

The more your mind wandered the more distracted you became. You went from wiping down windows to staring over the terrace. The longer you stood there thinking about your week, the more frustrated and upset you became. A million questions running wild in your head, What on earth had Ingrid been thinking? Sneaking into Miss Bela's chambers after forgetting to wash the girl's sheets. Why were the moroaică being so disruptive and- and loud?? The moroaică is one thing, the maids another, but also the thought of this repeating process; waking up, more dead maids, more new maids, more girls to train, repeat. It was stressful, and you were getting tired of not taking the breaks you were being offered every so often. But what were you meant to do? Maids don't train themselves, unless The Lady would control her daughters before they kill every last maid in one day.

Of course, you had nothing against The Lady or her daughters, you adored the 3 girls as if they were your own children, but seeing as you had been taking care of all of them for over 15 years, that was probably expected. You read to Daniela often, helped Cassandra keep things organised in the armory, and spoke with Bela whenever she was hovering around the kitchen. You really just loved to spend time with the girls whenever you could. The Lady had taken a liking to you over the years as well. You would normally sit down for tea or wine after a days work to talk with her whenever she was free, and even paused your work whenever you crossed paths in the hallways. However, as of late, you had been distancing yourself, and The Lady definitely noticed.

By now, your hands were trembling, but you snapped out of your thoughts and kept doing your chores anyways, trying to ignore the fact that you were close to spilling frustrated waterfalls. You didn't know what you were specifically upset about so why were you panicking? You can't be the person who helps take care of the entire Castle if you can't place what you're even upset about. Too busy drowning in your thoughts, you hadn't heard the chamber door swinging open, or the clicking of heels that followed.

The groan you let out was muffled as you lifted your apron up to wipe your face of the few tears that had managed to pass the dam currently built behind your eyelids. Your hands covered your face, shielding whatever was outside the window from seeing your annoyance. , , My dear, is something the matter?" The all too familiar voice snapped you out of the current state you were in.

You immediately whipped around, drying your face in the process before mumbling out an apology, not bringing yourself to meet The Countess's gaze.

, , I apololgize M'Lady, I didn't know you'd be done working so early." , , Look at me when you speak, draga." Alcina's voice was stern, but not to the point that it made her sound upset. More, concerned?

Reluctantly, your eyes trailed up her dress until you met Alcina's eyes. Upon noticing your tear streaked cheeks, The Countess's eyebrows furrowed. She took only a step foward before bending down to meet your height, her hand raising to your face as she took your chin in her hold.

, , Now. Tell me what bothers you, darling, your face is red."

Her eyes definitely showed concern, as this had been the first time in a while that she had seen you in such a weak and vulnerable state. At this moment, you would give anything to just spill out all your problems, but you passed that thought off, still wanting to avoid Lady Dimitrescu in any way.

, , It's nothing that should concern you, M'Lady. I don't want to put anything else on your plate." Just as you were about to ask to leave, you were pulled by your wrist towards The Countess.

Your breath hitched in your throat as she led you to the couch next to the window, sitting down before she lifts you up onto her lap. From the angle you were sitting at, you could see yourself in the vanity mirror. Of course, Alcina was right, your face was red.

, , M'Lady—"

, , Draga mea, how long until you stop avoiding me and my daughters?" She too, was looking at your reflection in the vanity mirror.

You opened your mouth to speak, but truthfully, you didn't really know what to say.

, , What's going on in that pretty little head of yours that's made you so distant, hm? Don't think I hadn't noticed it all when I saw you trying to evade Daniela the other day. I hope you don't think that just because your one of my most trusted maids, you have the right to keep things from me. You live in my home, therefore anything that happens with you—" She points to your chest, of which was rising up and down a lot quicker then before. , , -Is my concern whether you think it is or not." The Mistress looked deeply into the reflection of your eyes, as if trying to search for an answer. This woman always had a way with words that confused you just as much as it comforted you. Alcina had been so caring and sweet to you in the past, (thanks to the little amount of mess ups you made compared to the women who had been brought to The Castle along side yourself all those years ago) on your journey here in Castle Dimitrescu, she had managed to break down a lot of your mental shields, the shields that kept prying eyes at bay.

Your foot started to bounce nervously up and down and with a hesitant sigh, you started to rant about all the problems on your mind. How you thought that maybe you weren't working enough, and that you didn't deserve all the time you get to spend with the Dimitrescu's. Tears eventually broke out as you continued to lay all your troubles out in front of you. Alcina just sat and listened to you, rubbing your arm with her thumb and nodding understandably every now and then, not that you could see yourself or her anymore, Alcina had pulled you into her chest when you started to cry. By the time you had stopped rambling, your eyelashes were wet with tears, and your eyes were puffy and red.

, , Sweetheart, if a maid isn't doing their job correctly then you should be telling me, so that I can deal with it." She brings her hand up to your face, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. , , As for how much you work, I think the fact that you have been serving this Castle much longer then any other maid could survive here for is proof enough of your worth for me and my daughters. Besides, we don't care what you're worth. Do you enjoy my daughters company?" You nod slowly, leaning into The Countess's hand. , , I enjoy every second of my time with the girls. They're angels, if you wipe off the blood on their faces. I just- I just think that perhaps I dont do enough to earn their—." You're silenced when a leather gloved finger is pressed softly to your lips.

, , You're overthinking. Darling, my girls could very well see you as a second mother, they adore you just as much as I do, and I don't think I see them as happy as they are when you're around them. When you're stuck in a Castle for as long as you can remember, you start to get bored, draga. And don't you dare go forgetting that. You treat my girls as if their human beings, not some psycho witches that hunt and kill for a living. I've seen the way you look at them, you love them, you know you do. And they love you too. Now what makes it so hard to see that?"

A second mother? Well yes you treat them as your own sometimes, but you never wanted to say outloud that you loved them in that way, in case of what The Mistress might think. But now that you're hearing her say it, it all feels like a dream. You would do anything to protect Alcina's daughters. You never had interest in having children, but you always had a maternal instict when you came to know the Dimitrescu daughters.

, , You're stressed, draga mea. I hate seeing you that way." , , I'm- I'm sorry, I just— This week has been so rough, I thought maybe working more would get my mind off of everything—" Alcina grabs your chin, turning you to look at her in the eye.

, , My dear, the last thing you should be doing when you're stressed is working. You should be resting, instead- Not- Cleaning windows, sweeping, cooking- I hate to see you do that to yourself. I've known you too long to treat you as just another maid, just take care of yourself more. Can you please do that for me?"

You begin to cry again, burying your face into her chest once more. You start to mumble out apologies over and over again. Alcina comforts you through your tears, wrapping her arms around your body and drawing shapes on your back as you let out choked sobs and soft whimpers. Eventually, your tears stop flowing and they turn into quiet yawns. Finding amusement in your tired state, she begins to run her fingers through your hair.

, , Very tired now, aren't you..." Her voice was soft and quiet. She began leaning to the right, slowly lowering herself further onto the couch, with you laying on top of her. At this rate, you were too tired to deny her warmth, so you just lay curled up on top of The Mistress, welcoming the sleep that finally stole you away.

, , Someday, draga mea, you'll open your eyes and realize just how much you mean to me."

thAt is the first time i have written smth like this :^

lemme know if you want more, bc i already hate this :D

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #re8 village #re8 #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

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WIBTA if I told my sister I think she should put down her dog?

(cw: animal death, animal erection mention (I shit you not), suicide mention)

So, I (21nb) have a sister (Amelia, 23f). She’s been living with a friend for the past two years, but she still stops by the house every now and then. Most of the time, it’s just to drop off her dog (Max, toy poodle, 16?m) so that we (Dad and Mom, 63m and 55f, and Jamie, 25f) can dogsit him while she’s at work. We’ve already got three dogs of our own, and because both of my parents work full-time (and Jamie works from home part-time), I’m usually the one who has to take care of him during the day (along with our other dogs).

Unfortunately, because Max is an older dog, he has a lot of health issues. He’s mostly blind, fully deaf, and he has intense separation anxiety. He also bites when he’s startled, which is often because he’s deaf and blind. So most times he’s over he’ll pee in the house because he doesn’t know he’s inside, we’ll have to carefully pick him up and put him in the backyard so he can do his business, then stand outside with him so we can keep him from getting lost in a bush or bumping into a tree or freezing to death because he can’t find his way to the door, then we have to carefully pick him up again to bring him back inside. After that, he’ll often walk around the house while screaming because he can’t see or hear anyone and he thinks we’ve abandoned him. It’s hell to deal with, and I’ve had breakdowns on several different occasions while trying to deal with my other responsibilities and also keep him from screaming 24/7. When he’s not aimlessly wandering and screaming, he’s asleep in his dog bed for most of the day. It’s depressing to watch him so sad and unmotivated. He doesn’t know how to be a dog without her.

Recently, Amelia’s been dropping him off more often and for longer stretches. She works retail, so I can understand that her schedule is fucked most of the time. But she’s also been dropping Max off because he’s so overwhelming for her to deal with. He has the same issues when he’s at home with her, but he’s also like 10 times more energetic when she’s around (and he screams when she’s around but not holding him or giving him attention), which is hard for her to deal with after three days of back to back shifts. She’s called my mom before to ask us to take Max for a night just so she can get some sleep.

The most recent time Amelia dropped Max off, she said that he’d been having painful prolonged erections, and that we’d probably have to wipe his penis down with a damp washcloth to get it to go back in. Now, I’ve had dogs for most of my life, I’m not exactly a stranger to having to wipe down doggy nether regions (hell, I’ve dealt with so many clingons you could call me a starfleet ambassador). But having to do that for a blind dog who’s known to bite when he’s startled? Just the idea of having to hold him while someone else wipes makes me want to cry tears of frustration. I’ve already got two scars from him biting me, I’m not aiming for a third.

With all of his health issues, I’m convinced that it’d be much more humane to put Max down now rather than letting him (and quite frankly, everyone who has to take care of him) suffer indefinitely. But at the same time, he’s Amelia’s rock. She’s struggled with depression and anxiety all her life, and she was even hospitalized for severe suicidal ideation two years ago. She’s told me herself that some days, the only thing that gets her out of bed is having to take care of Max. I’ve had a dog like that before, and when he passed suddenly, it destroyed me for months. I’m worried that if Amelia did have to have Max put down, it might lead to her being hospitalized again, or worse. I can’t keep living with him, but at the same time, I can’t expect her to live without him.

TL;DR: my sister’s dog has many health issues that require special care, and I’m responsible for babysitting him while she’s at work. my sister has mental health issues, and taking care of her dog is both incredibly stressful for her and one of the few sources of joy she has. I believe it’d be more humane for everyone if she puts her dog down, but I also don’t want to take away one of the few things that makes her happy. Would I be the asshole if I told her I think she should put down her dog?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #pet death cw #suicide cw

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kakiastro · 11 months

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12h + the type of dreams you have

Can’t talk about dreams without Morpheus💜

Hey yall! I wanted to talk about how the 12h and the type of dream themes you will have based on the sign it’s in. The 12h rules our subconscious dream state while we are sleeping. The sign it’s in can be repeated themes and patterns you see in them. The 12h is ruled by Pisces which is ruled Neptune and traditionally Jupiter. Some people believe your dreams represent what’s going on in your conscious world, some believe they’re messages from a divine figure and others believe it’s your soul traveling to different timelines. Whatever your personal beliefs are, the 12h can give us clues on the type of themes we can expect.

To get a better analysis on your own 12h; look at your 12h sign + 12h sign ruler and house + degree + aspects to your 12h sign ruler. If you write out your dreams in a journal, see if there’s a connection to your 12h

Today, I’m just going to breakdown 12h signs just to give you an idea, write down and observe the things you remember .

ELEMENT THEMES:

12h Air dreams-fast paced. intellectual, may involve you coming to a decision on something that’s been bothering you mentally. Dreams may involve the sky, tornadoes, animals that fly, you could be flying.

12h Earth dreams- slow paced. grounded and stability. May involve you feeling out of wack and to find some sort of grounding in your life. Dreams can involve forest, trees, the ground, earthquakes.

12h Fire dreams- intense and fast paced. passion and creativity. May involve you lacking the passion for something in your life. If you’re creatively blocked, it will show up in your dreams. Fire, arguing and fighting, romance can be some of the themes

12h Water dreams- fast or slow paced. emotional. It may involve some sort of emotional disturbance that’s bothering you. Water also represents memory and reflection so you can dream about things that’s mirroring you. Dreams about water, your mom, your home, tsunamis, ocean, lakes can be involved

ARIES

-dreams may be very action oriented, there’s a a lot going on in them. You may have a lot of dreams that include arguing or fighting involved. The dreams could be fast paced as well so you may have trouble remembering them due to how quick they are. Dreams may be fiery or heated. You may have had dreams where you were dressed as a warrior or fighter. Dreams can also involve knifes, blood, leaders in your community (which can include you if you’re one) you may wake up with a headache.

TAURUS

-slow paced dreams that involves houses (external), maybe you’re always traveling to different houses. Houses being built or collapsing. Food may also be a big thing in your dreams, either you or someone else is doing the cooking. You may have ability to taste food in your dreams. You can be at different types of restaurants in your dreams.Money is another thing that may appear in your dreams, such as dreams of being at a bank or you working at a bank. It can literally be you surrounded by money. Jewelry can be another thing you see, dreams of fashion shows.

GEMINI

- very fast dreams that’s very airy. May have dreams that change from one thing to another in an instant. It’s like a tv show, switch from one episode to another. May have dreams that involve your siblings, your school with former classmates, aunts and uncles. Dreams of you traveling in a car or bus to different places in your neighborhood. Lots of communication and talking going on in your dreams. You may remember the conversations than the actual dream itself. Dreams can also take place in a library

-I have this placement and a lot of my dreams takes place at my old high school. I also have had dreams of my late uncle who’s passed visit me and we have conversations. A few cousins have come to visit me as well. Yes, I usually have several dreams in one night and they’re all connected to each other. The most I’ve had that I can remember was 7 in one night. Crazy!🤪

CANCER

-I feel like this can be either slow or faced paced lol. May have dreams of close family members especially your mom. Dreams may take place in your home or childhood home. May have had dreams that involves family reunions or get together. Dreams can include babies or nursery rhymes. Young children (age 0-4) , the moon, elephants or wolves can pop up. Being around water such as ponds, waterfalls and rivers. People may be really emotional such as crying or being angry in your dreams. Dreams of women in your life or just women in general.

- I have an intercepted chart so cancer is also in my 12h. I have dreams of my family all the time! Elephants have appeared in my dreams as well. My dreams has also taken place in my childhood neighborhood or home. I’ve also had dreams of childhood friends due to the Gemini influence in this house as well.

LEO

-fast but intense. Dreams may involve a lot of your childhood memories and all the things you liked as a kid. You can relive your childhood through your dreams. May have had dreams where you or someone is getting lots of attention. Dreams of meeting famous people and having conversations with them. You having your picture taken, lions or big cats may appear in your dreams. You being at the playground or around a playground. Children may pop up, if you don’t already have children, you may have had of dream of what they’ll look life before they are conceived.

VIRGO

-slow moving. Pay attention to the smaller details in your dreams because they’re more important than the larger scheme of things. Dreams may include spacious type of areas, libraries, at your job. Your Co-workers may pop up, your manager or supervisor as well. Dreams where you’re at the doctors office or talking to one. Conversations will be important in this sign as well because it’s also a mercurial sign. Conversations may be more detailed like

for example: you may talk a lot about sweets but chocolate cake may get brought up in your dream. The chocolate cake is the important part because that’s probably what you’re craving or what you need to slow down on.

The “devil is in the details” as the old saying goes

LIBRA

-dreams may include the people that you are closest too outside of your family members. If you’re a business owner, your dreams may take place there. If you’re in a serious relationship or married, you may dream of your partner a lot. Even if you’re single, you may have lots of dreams of your future partner before actually meeting them in person. Lawyers can appear as well.

SCORPIO

- you may have lots of nightmares or see lots of nightmarish things in your dreams. Sex dreams is really common with placement. You may have lots of “spiritual sex” with people you are attracted too 😝. Your dreams may take place in dark themed places such as night clubs, night time, in abandoned places, alleyways and dark corners. Dreams will be intense and will feel overwhelming when you wake up. You can also dream of death and birth as well. The phoenix may appear in your dreams.

SAGITTARIUS

-dreams can take place on a plane or in a different country/area from where you’re from. You can have dreams where you’re sitting in an airplane flying somewhere. Traveling could be a big theme in your dreams. If you go to church, your church may appear in your dreams, people from your church may appear. Even if you don’t go to church, it may pop up in your dreams or you being in one. Horses may show up in your dreams a lot, you may have had dreams of centaurs before. Running can also play a huge part, whether it’s you or the people in your dreams.

CAPRICORN

-dreams may take place at your job setting. Your boss may show up in your dreams. You may dream a lot of your grandparents especially your grandma. Dreams may take place in cooperate type of buildings. Dreams may take place in an area where there’s lots of big corporations such as New York. Dreams can also take place home but the home feels cold or you’re alone in it. Mountains can also show up, whether it’s you on top of one or just the image of them. Capricorn has water energy due to the symbol being a Sea Goat so you may have dreams of water. Goats, Crocodiles, Bats may appear. Bones such as your teeth falling out can be a theme.

AQUARIUS

- dreams that involve lots of people moving in your dreams. Dreams may not make a lick of sense with this placement😅 speeding, such as your driving fast or the dream is going a mile a minute. Out of all of the signs, I think Aquarius may be the toughest to remember and pin down due to the fact that aqua rules over abstract 🥴. Your social circle and your acquaintance may pop up. You may have random ass people pop up in your dreams like uhhh “who you?” LOL. Funny enough, those random people may actually appear In your life or if you believe in reincarnation, they could be past life people. Your dreams may be futuristic, you can dream of big events before it actually happen. Water, you carrying it or someone else can be a them.

PISCES

-Pisces is right at home here so you may have remember your dreams with ease. You may have the ability to astra project easily as well. The ocean (internal) may be huge theme. You probably have seen the depth of the ocean in your dreams. Fish or sea life in general may appear in your dreams a lot such as whales, Starfish and Sea horses. Music may show up in your dreams, like you may hear full lyrics to a song. You may dream of musicians. You may have dreams where the setting is taking place in a hospital or some type of asylum.

What type of dreams do you have?

I’m also open for readings, information in my pinned post

#astrology #astrology community #knowledge #love astrology #astro observations #advanced astrology #birth chart #tropical astrology #12h #Pisces #neptune

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tsukimefuku · 5 months

Text

CHAPTER ONE: PUTATIVE SELF DEFENSE ❀ HIGURUMA SENSEI SERIES

masterlist link | mdni!

❀ putative self-defense.

when a person believes they are in imminent danger and acts in what they believe would be self-defense, when, in reality, the threat does not exist or is not as severe as perceived.

wc: 5.9K ❀ pairing for the series: professor!higuruma x student!reader

❀ summary.

after your roommate fails to replenish the coffee in your dorm room, you drag your insomniac ass towards the cafeteria before heading to your first criminal law class. unfortunately, things don't go as expected — it's so, so much worse than you could have anticipated. at least, your personal torturer is very good-looking, and has the most beautiful hooked nose you have ever seen.

❀ Tags and c/w.

non-curse au. college au. silly slow-burn rom-com between professor and college student (this is purely a work of fiction, okay guys?) reader is kind of a mess (like, literally). this is cliché with some twists. nobara is the best and worst roomie ever. nobamaki is a thing here. nobody likes cafeteria coffee. higuruma has a best friend, i'm so happy about that. second hand embarrassment. misunderstandings are talked through and resolved. higuruma is a little unhinged, and we love him for that.

thank you so much @redlikerozez for betaing this 🥺

Your morning was a clusterfuck.

Diving your face in ice cold water did absolutely nothing to wake you from your anxiety ridden all-nighter. The world felt like a half dazed hallucination by this point.

Your energy was running so low this morning that you wound up putting your jeans on top of your pajamas pants, throwing a coat over the rest of the mess, and twirling your hair into something that could barely be considered a bun, topping it all off with the ugliest scarf you had — a red polka-dot scarf.

It seemed to be a taunting from the Gods — this was, for some supernatural reason, the only scarf you ever found when you were running late, and you hated the thing, but feared that if you threw it away, some higher power would punish you, and you'd never find another scarf to wear.

You were also scared that if you tried taking a shower, you might end up sleeping under it.

"What are you doing?" your roommate asked, as you pulled your face from the bowl filled with water and ice cubes. "Jesus, you look like hell."

"Trying to crawl my way back to the world of the living. It's not working."

Nobara walked behind you and opened the mini-fridge, grabbing a single slice of cheese and rolling it up to eat it.

"Oh, a breakfast fit for the champions" you mocked, while patting your face with a tea towel.

She scoffed. "Get off my ass, I didn't have the time for groceries."

"Oh, you totally had the time, you just spent it all with your girlfriend in her room!"

Nobara grabbed a crumpled tissue that she found over the counter and threw it in your direction.

You dodged it because you weren’t sure what the fuck that tissue had been used for cleaning.

"Leave me the hell alone! I deserved it before classes started," she complained, pouting.

You laughed as you walked towards the coffee machine, to see if some liquid energy would be enough to pump you through the day.

"Aren't you supposed to be out there already? Weren't you going to head into criminal law today or whatever?" she asked.

And you were, actually.

"So, how is he?" you inquired, tapping around the coffee machine and behind it, looking for the coffee powder.

"Professor Higuruma, you mean?" Nobara got up and walked towards her bed, throwing herself over it like a rag doll. "I still haven't had class with him, but according to Maki, he's kinda weird."

"Your girlfriend's definition of weird for the male faculty members is too broad, Nobara. She said the same thing about at least four or five professors."

She shrugged. "According to gossip, professor Higuruma had to take some time off academia after his PhD because of a mental breakdown."

"Well, he is the guy that got two masters degrees simultaneously and one PhD right after. I guess that does things to a person" you mocked, opening the cabinet drawer. Where is the coffee?

"Oh, that's why he's the head of two chairs?!"

"Yup, Criminal Law and Criminal Procedure Law."

"Well, from what Maki has told me, he likes to quiz his students on the spot randomly," Nobara stated as she pulled her phone from her night stand and began texting.

After looking all around and not finding the coffee powder, you were very much annoyed.

"Nobara, where is the coffee?"

"We don't have any," she answered nonchalantly, still with her eyes glued to her phone.

You whipped your head towards her so fast, you nearly hurt your neck.

"Nobara, I need coffee. This is not a drill! It's my first criminal law class!"

"Oh, future criminal defense attorney, you definitely need some coffee, no one in their good mind would be wearing whatever the hell that is," she noted, pointing at you. "Especially that ugly red thing around your neck. Why do you still have that?"

"Ugh, now I'll have to go into the cafeteria before class to drink their awful coffee, and it's entirely your fault. Wardrobe editing rights are officially revoked!"

You stepped towards the door grabbing your bag as you heard her ask, "Hhey, is that your pajamas top?"

"No!" you replied, pulling your coat over your hello kitty pajamas top, before going out.

***

I can't fucking believe this.

You got in line to buy an overpriced $2 coffee — overpriced because it basically tasted like dirty water flavored with the souls of the damned — as you looked at your watch nearly every twenty seconds or so.

This coffee was so bad you usually tried to cover it up with milk, syrup and whatever else they had at their clients' disposal, but the aftertaste was always — always — completely cursed.

While in line, you noticed the guy who stood in front of you, and got distracted from your hurry by his back, as silly as that might sound.

He was tall — not the tallest, but at least a head above you — and his black hair was neatly cut by the tail end where his neck met his black suit collar. His posture was a little crooked to the side, one shoulder hanging a little lower than the other, and it felt kind of… charming?

Realizing you were nearly burning a hole in the man's back with your eyes, you averted your gaze elsewhere.

This is pathetic. I'm pathetic.

You figured that you had to be really sleep-deprived — and, honestly, kinda lonely — to be simping over some random guy's back.

Not only that, but while waiting in line at the campus cafeteria, the less sexy place to ever exist.

Class. I need coffee. I need to get to class. I'm pathetic. I’m also almost late.

And almost late you were. Somehow, you managed to wait just until you'd be a little too fumbled on the clock in order to get your ass out of your dorm room's bed to do something about it, and never even bothered to check if there would be any coffee to be made.

Just one of the many minor self-sabotaging shit you pulled against yourself from time to time.

After grabbing the damned drink and tainting it with further things to mask its terrible taste, your sleepless and nearly-late ass, when running across the cafeteria, body slammed by accident the same guy that was in line right in front of you. He was then covered in your coffee — an unholy concoction of said beverage, cold water, milk, and pancake syrup for sweetening.

Not only that, but to top it all off, you chuckled right after you began apologizing, actually laughing at the poor man.

It wasn't because the situation was even remotely funny, or that you were cackling at his humiliation. You just had the laughter response to stressful or embarrassing situations.

At church, during the national anthem, at an accident, or in the middle of a very hard test — whenever you were really stressed, you found yourself having to hold your urge to cackle.

Unfortunately, even after twenty-seven years, this was something you hadn’t quite mastered yet.

As you tried to grab some napkins from the counter behind him, you slipped, ceasing the laughter immediately.

Instant karma. Seems fair.

Before you hit the ground, though, he held you by your waist and with a hand on your arm. You felt the taut muscles under the suit enveloping you and pulling you back on your feet in one dexterous, swift motion. His shoulders were not slouched anymore.

"Shit, shit, I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, trying to shuffle yourself away from him. His grip was tight, clearly from someone that had just been startled, and his body felt warm — especially considering you had just covered the poor guy in hot liquid.

As you parted yourself from him, you finally took a good look at the man.

The best words to describe him right now were disheveled mess. His tie was crumpled, his white button shirt had a massive brown stain from the coffee spilled, his short black hair was messily pulled back leaving a few strands out to frame his forehead, and his ashy black eyes were clearly surprised as he tried to check if you were alright.

And that beautiful hooked nose.

He was definitely brooding and good-looking — the tired, overworked, insomniac, bags under his eyes and two steps away from sleeping on his feet kind of good-looking.

The front certainly matches the back.

Then, realizing your mind was doing whirls about his appearance, you shook your head for a moment, dispersing the thoughts away.

"It's fine, just let me-" he answered, taping his hands around his suit, seemingly looking for something.

You had nearly forgotten you were tight on time until you heard the bell ringing. He turned around startled when it rang, cussing something under his breath, which gave you the perfect opportunity to dash away.

"I'm very sorry! I'm really late for my next class, I need to run, but I'm so, so sorry!" you blurted as you took off running, feeling a tinge of guilt knowing full well you had left him alone to fend off for himself with that abominable coffee stain.

So, why clusterfuck?

When you arrived in class, having lost yourself on campus twice when running around like a dizzy duck in a fatigued haze trying to find the right classroom, you saw who was sitting at the professor's desk in front of the entire classroom.

That huge coffee spill was pretty visible, even if he had now closed his suit jacket on top of it.

Shit.

The man was fumbling around with some papers over his desk with one hand while he adjusted his glasses — that he wasn't wearing earlier — with the other.

You sat in the back of the classroom, which had an amphitheater architecture to it. If you were lucky enough, though, maybe he wouldn't notice you.

However, upon further inspection, you noticed that the back of the class was especially empty, and realized at that moment you were standing out like a sore thumb.

This couldn't get any worse, could it?

You wished for a hole to appear right under your feet and drag you down.

"So, good morning to you all. I apologize for my late arrival. As you can all tell, I had to face some unforeseen circumstances," he began, pulling on the edge of his jacket suit to reveal the brown-colored Rorschach of shame plastered over his white shirt.

Some students laughed, and you recoiled in your seat, praying this was all just a first-day-in-class-embarrassment type of dream.

It wasn't.

"Welcome to Criminal Law I. My name is Higuruma Hiromi, and I'll be your professor. I hope you all can learn a thing or two from me," he said, before stepping in front of his desk and sitting over it.

"So, I'd like to begin this class with the following question: what is fairness?"

Some hands jumped up, and you slid yourself under your seat even further, surely to hit the ground if you sunk any deeper.

Higuruma's eyes began darting around the classroom.

Something you'd learn in a second about him was that he liked to poke at the students who didn't seem keen in participating, just to create some stormy engagement and get truly unexpected answers.

The ones who lifted their hands, the classic know-it-alls, were the students he considered to be remarkably boring and utterly predictable.

"You," he stated, and it took you a few seconds — and multiple blinks — to realize his finger was pointing in your direction. "Girl with the red scarf, tell me what you think fairness is."

You were at a complete loss for words.

"I… I… Fairness…"

Then silence.

You couldn't muster up anything to say to save your life.

You really should have slept better.

He sighed, and tilted his head to the side.

"Guess I'll have to demonstrate it."

Nobody understood what the professor meant, and much to everyone's surprise, he began walking up towards you, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he did so.

Then, looking straight at you, he stood beside the exit door, and gestured towards it.

"Girl with the red scarf, please, leave this classroom."

Before you could actually be offended that he didn't even ask your name, you felt your stomach drop, and your face glow a warm, deeply uncomfortable red.

Out of everything you thought could happen, getting kicked out of the classroom within the first five minutes into a lecture wasn’t even listed as one of the top 10 alternatives.

What the fuck? Isn't that a little excessive?

Speechless, you grabbed your backpack from the ground, and lifted yourself up, standing there for a few seconds, completely dumbfounded. The classroom was silent enough that a needle falling on the ground could be heard.

And then, suddenly, the urge came upon you, raining down like a hailstorm.

Laughter bubbled up your throat, and you coughed a little, pursing your lips shut, scrunching your face all around, trying to avoid any sound from leaking out.

He looked at you a little puzzled, and seemed to be wondering if you were about to have a stroke.

You began walking towards the door, but as you were about to cross it, he extended his arm in front of you, blocking your passageway.

"Stay there for a second."

"What?" you asked, coughing a little to shy the laughter away, and his face was once again briefly puzzled when he heard your voice.

A few seconds later, he softly shook off whatever thought that was, and resumed speaking.

"Is this fair? Asking a student to leave a classroom because they failed to answer an open-ended question?" he inquired the other students, waiting for someone to answer.

"N-no, it's not," some guy answered from the front.

Higuruma gestured for you to seat back where you were, and you clumsily stepped your way back, face flustered in utter and absolute embarrassment. This was definitely how bad it all could get. Is he dunking on me for spilling coffee on him and running? That's petty.

The man was certifiably insane. He was lucky to be so good-looking.

"And why it is not?" he proceeded with the questioning, slowly walking back towards the front of the class again.

"It would be excessive to do so," another student answered.

"Correct. Precisely that, it would be excessive," Higuruma chimed, sitting back over his desk, legs mildly spread as he opened his suit jacket and mindlessly smoothed out his tie with one of his hands. "Criminal Law isn't just about subsuming a person's actions to something the law has described as a crime, and then mechanically submitting said person to some randomly prescribed penalty. Fairness is the most vital and important theoretical foundation when studying criminal law. Not answering a question could be considered some type of in-class offense, sure, and expulsion from the classroom is one possible way to punish the deviant student, but it would be disproportionate and unreasonable to do so."

His gravely voice filled that classroom with no effort whatsoever, and it was an actually pretty good exposition.

It was one thing to describe what a sunset looks like, and another, very different, was to actually show one happening in real time. Words paled in comparison to the crimson, purplish sky engulfing the end of a day.

Most of your teachers, up until this point, had simply begun writing something on the white board at the start of each class, and made less than memorable remarks while spitting out the theory written in the recommended books list in the syllabus. So distant, so abstract, so… Detached from real life.

This was thought-provoking. This was enthralling. Well, this was the reason you enrolled in law school in the first place.

For a moment, you forgot this professor had just exercised his petty revenge on you, propping yourself up with trepidation. Your tiredness was completely forgotten as his monologue ensued.

He was the real deal.

"Fairness. It will be your guide to assess if a given penalty after a verdict is adequate or not, if someone who acted in self-defense should be found innocent or exceeded their rights in doing so… If the law itself is good enough as it is or should be subject to change, because a penalty might be too high for a seemingly innocuous offense that shouldn't even be a crime in the first place."

Higuruma paused for a moment to let his students simmer on his words.

"Fairness is the be-all and end-all of Criminal Law. I need everyone to understand this before we proceed, because fairness will be our primary lens in this classroom when studying the subject. So, can I trust that all of you understood what fairness looks like, rather than what it can be conceptualized as?"

He darted his eyes in your direction, and you saw yourself unconsciously nodding in acquiescence.

You were sure you caught a whiff of a smile on his face right before he resumed his introductory class of principles in criminal law.

***

“We are the only nerds that do this in the teacher’s lounge,” Higuruma stated, as he made his next move on the checkers board.

“You’re probably right,” Higuruma’s best friend replied in his pristine striped gray suit vest, as he thought for a second before making his own move and taking three consecutive pieces of Higuruma’s checkers as he did.

Higuruma groaned in response. Why does he always win on checkers? Goddammit.

“How are you so good at this, Kento? Let’s play chess, just so then I get to win” he complained, leaning back against his chair. “ I can see you winning this one in three moves.”

Nanami huffed. “Checkers was your idea. Besides, we both have our classes soon, there wouldn’t be enough time for a proper chess game.”

Higuruma removed his glasses and slid them inside one of his suit jacket’s inner pockets, brushing the tips of his fingers against his closed eyelids. He couldn’t catch a wink of rest the previous night, anxious to be back in a classroom after such a long time.

It all became very blurry, so he put his glasses back on.

Higuruma didn’t know if he was eager, nervous, happy or dreading this day.

Perhaps a mix of everything and then some.

“I needed something to wake me up. I’ve barely slept, and I’m in dire need of some coffee.”

“You could try drinking the coffee from the teacher’s lounge,” Nanami pointed out, gesturing his head in the direction of a creepy looking and unkempt thermal bottle. “I wouldn’t advise you on it, though. Only professor Ieiri has been brave enough to drink it so far.”

“I guess I’ll take my chances with the foul cafeteria coffee, I might survive that.”

Nanami smiled as he looked at his friend.

“You’re too overly dramatic.”

At that, Higuruma scoffed.

“And you’re too underly dramatic. That’s why I teach the passionate, great chair of Criminal Law, and you’re responsible for the boring, sleep-inducing chair of Commercial Law.”

“It pays the bills pretty well at my firm,” the other professor retorted.

Higuruma lifted an eyebrow, as if offended that Nanami thought that argument would dissuade him from his stance.

They were both silent for a moment before Nanami spoke again, noticing the deep eye bags on Higuruma's face.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“No more than the usual,” Higuruma replied, shuffling on his chair, still focused on the checkers board.

Nanami lifted an inquisitive eyebrow, silent for a while, and Higuruma sighed.

“I mean it. I’m fine.”

Still a little unsure, Nanami nodded.

“Okay. Just reach out and come to my office if you need anything,” he offered, slight concern masked under the monotone of his voice.

“Aw, he likes me,” Higuruma playfully chanted. “So thoughtful of you, my dear.”

“Tsk, shut up,” Nanami scoffed as he got up, taking his neatly folded blazer on his bent arm, “and it’d take me two moves instead of three to have this victory over you.”

“Seriously?!” Higuruma exclaimed, glancing at the board. Upon further inspection, he realized his friend was right. “Shit.”

“Hiromi, go drink your coffee at once. You’re barely functional right now, there is absolutely no way you could teach a class in the state you’re in.”

“Kento, I could teach criminal law in my sleep,” Higuruma mused before lifting himself up. Nanami sighed as Higuruma exited the room.

***

This might be the worst coffee I’ve ever drank, Higuruma thought to himself as he put his cup over the counter and removed his glasses to pinch on his nose. It was all but a failed attempt to air out the foul taste of that watered down, sad excuse for a coffee.

He tried drinking it with nothing — no sugar, no milk, no sweetener, but this atrocity begged for anything to mask the old powder aftertaste.

After folding his glasses and throwing them in one of his suit’s inner pockets, Higuruma let out a heartfelt sigh, just hoping for things to go smoothly that day.

He'd have his hopes torn to shreds in seconds.

Some loud, hasty steps coming in his direction caught his attention, but as soon as he turned to face whoever that was, Higuruma was met with a hot splash all over his shirt and tie.

You have to be kidding me.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!”

He heard a female voice coming from the blurred face right in front of him. Her voice was what he’d call an unusually sweet — if worried — voice. It had a genuinely kind melodic quality to it.

Even if hasty, her words sounded like a heartfelt apology.

Then, she… chuckled?

Hm… What?

She seemed to lean over dramatically and grab something from behind his back.

However, on the way back with her arm, her body brushed against his in a worrying fashion, and Higuruma quickly realized she was about to fall. Even though he was over 24 hours sleepless, adrenaline and his reflexes kicked in, as he held her before she could hit the ground, pulling her against him to stand on her feet.

He was still somewhat disoriented from lack of sleep, and failed to realize his hand was still holding her arm intently before the woman squiggled away from his grip.

There was a red blurry thing under her also blurred face.

Only then did he realize he should probably see her face and talk to her properly about the debacle.

The professor said it was fine and began tapping around his suit, not remembering in which pocket exactly he threw his glasses in. However, before he found it, the bell that indicated the time for the first class rang, and Higuruma realized he had completely lost track of time.

"Fuck," first class and already running late.

The woman seemed to apologize and ran away, leaving him dumbfounded.

The professor finally managed to find his glasses, fishing them out of his pocket and putting them on, glad that his next class was at the building just around the corner.

He walked hastily towards it, and got there in less than a couple of minutes, seizing the opportunity to check on his state on the mirror as he entered the elevator.

The coffee stain was humongous and very evident on his white shirt, but he was glad that at least his black tie seemed to fend off fine from the beverage. As Higuruma passed his fingers over the fabric of both pieces, however, it was somewhat sticky.

He let out a disheartened sigh, stepping out on the corridor and into the classroom, placing his briefcase on the side of his desk.

Now, what will I teach these people today?

Hiromi began ruffling around his papers trying to find the course syllabus, and realized he hadn't brought it with him. These papers were nothing but useless administrative shenanigans, so he decided to wing it in any way he could to illustrate criminal law for the students.

The thing is, how can you effectively grab someone's attention when it's 7 o'clock in the morning, and most people are completely hungover?

With adrenaline, of course.

***

The rest of the class went on without a hiccup, and you had made much more notes than you anticipated you would. His voice had a weird calming and focusing effect on you, as much as you hated admitting it — also, it wasn't so hard accompanying him walking around making his exposition when his face looked like that.

However, you decided you'd talk to him, first off because it would be incredibly uncomfortable to keep going to both of his classes for six months without ever addressing the coffee faux pas, and second because you had just been victimized by the pettiest revenge known to mankind by a college professor.

You kind of deserved it, but still. It was pretty immature, even if he was Dr. Genius who just taught the best class you had ever seen in your life.

"So, students, we'll have a quick test this week," Higuruma stated, "the Dean has requested that all professors use these to assess your knowledge every month, and I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible."

Many sighs and displeased grunts could be heard around the classroom. He leaned over his desk as he sat, putting his papers away in his briefcase.

"I know, I don't like it either, but at least you'll only need to study a week's worth of content, not a month."

Some hm, fine, ugh, were uttered by the students as they left the classroom. You walked hesitantly behind them all, waiting for everyone to leave before you could speak to him alone.

You were already going to be remembered as the girl mock expelled from the classroom. No one needed to know you also had assaulted their professor with a desecrated cup of coffee before that.

As you stepped in front of his desk, he lifted his gaze to meet yours.

"Yes?"

Something you hadn't anticipated was that looking at him — and his hooked nose — up close like this would jumble your thoughts around.

Oh, shit. He's handsome.

Dumbified, you spat out the first thing you could think of.

"So, professor, I'm the student you fake expelled earlier," you stated, realizing he obviously already knew that.

Brilliant. Off to a great start.

Higuruma nodded, feeling something prickling at the back of his brain as he heard your voice for a second time.

"What did you think? Was it a good way to convey this class motif?" he asked, finally closing his briefcase and putting it on the ground, completely ignoring the fact that it was probably an uncomfortable experience for all of the people involved, especially you.

You were a little incredulous at how oblivious he seemed to be, and it annoyed you. Was this out of good heart, or was he playing dumb?

"It was a good exposition, professor, but I wanted to talk about something else," you answered.

“5000 yen.”

“... What?”

“That’s my law firm’s hourly fee.”

You stood silent. He chuckled a little, shrugging back.

“I’m joking. I don’t even have a practice. Tell me what you need.”

Is this guy for real?

You cleared your throat before continuing.

“It felt horrible to be on the spot like that out of nowhere, without any knowledge as to what was going on.”

After blurting it out, you braced yourself, knowing full well by now that professors were usually pretty big ego'd kind of people. Nonetheless, this had to be said, at least for the sake of the next student he decided to torture with one of his experiments.

He looked at you with wide eyes, and seemed to ponder for a moment.

“Oh, I see. My apologies,” Higuruma offered in earnest, while his face softened.

You were very surprised.

“Oh, okay," you mumbled as you scratched the back of your neck, "I accept your apology. But maybe you should really give the student a heads-up next time you intend to do that.”

“That would presume I consider that students are people, and not minions to torture.”

Uh?

“Also a joke.”

“You’re not very good with those.”

Did I say that out loud?

He simply stared surprised at you, seemingly a little shocked.

I did say it out loud.

"Fuck."

And that too.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Higuruma suddenly chuckled, much to your surprise. Your eyes widened, and you stared at him, extremely confused as to what was up with this guy.

“You're a sincere person," he noted, and you shrugged hesitantly.

Higuruma was definitely amused at this exchange.

He then proceeded.

"Being sincere is good, but my best friend always warns me to try keeping it to myself most of the time. I don’t listen, of course, but maybe you should for now. People get offended easily.”

His exposition made you feel a little less out of place — and less alone, for what it was worth. You instantly remembered your parents used to chide you for blurting out things like that out of nowhere, instead of keeping them in your head like other people do, according to them.

You didn't realize you were smiling as you mindlessly opened your coat.

He took notice of your shirt, and began slowly realizing there was something off about it.

"Is that usual?" you asked, out of the blue.

He shook his head, being pulled out of his head. "What?"

"The mock expulsion?"

"Heavens, no."

"Then, why?" you inquired.

He rubbed his face with his hands.

"Because I needed something to wake mine and everybody else's brain up. Classes shouldn't be this early, and I didn't get a wink of sleep last night."

Higuruma was still out of sorts, spilling the tea of his insomniac state to one of his random students whom he had just met.

"Oh, me neither!" you told him, also absentmindedly, on a stream of consciousness rant towards a professor you were talking to for the first time. "Classes should start after noon, at the very least…"

"I know, right? Some things shouldn't be a crime, but making people wake up this early for class definitely ought to be."

You laughed softly, and you both kept silent for a moment, before you remembered what you thought was the reason for the mock punishment.

"Oh, professor… I'm sorry about the coffee."

He was confused for a few moments before broadening his eyes as he finally realized it.

No wonder Higuruma felt like he recognized your voice from somewhere, and now he took a good look at the red smudge he had seen earlier under what he figured was your face.

It was the ugliest scarf he had ever seen.

"I came here wanting to ask if you had done the fake expulsion thing as some sort of…" you sighed, a little ashamed. "Well, I'd like to apologize for staining your clothes, and offer to get you new ones, or at least pay for your laundry fee if needed."

He lifted one eyebrow at you before he resumed speaking.

"I didn't catch your face then. I mean, I didn't recognize you at all," Higuruma answered, "so no. But I'd never… Well, you barely know me, so you wouldn't know, but my opinion on the matter is that professors that exert selfish vendettas against students, for whatever reason, are absolute fools."

"You didn't recognize me? Say what now?"

He pointed at his glasses, and you finally understood completely how all of this petty revenge narrative was entirely in your head.

"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay."

"But still…"

He sighed.

"It was a possibility, given how things in a college setting usually go, but that is why we investigate things further before prosecuting, right? A narrative might make a lot of sense, up until you confront it with the gathered evidence."

You joined your hands in front of you, embarrassed.

"Yes, I guess so," you answered, "but please, let me at least pay to get your clothes cleaned."

The professor shook his head.

"Absolutely not. You're an undergraduate student. I've been one, I'm quite aware of the financial hardships most of you endure as I've struggled with them myself not so long ago."

Even though you felt somewhat uncomfortable about not evening things out, he was right. This money would be fairly missed — you were already missing the $2 worth of coffee you didn't manage to drink.

"It was an accident, you didn't cover me with your beverage intentionally. Also, you had to leave because you were late for my class," he paused, "and I'm actually flattered you'd leave someone to fend off for themselves against that foul cafeteria coffee just to run to one of my classes."

You chuckled a little, and he proceeded.

"So, it's okay. You don't have to pay me for anything. This is fine."

You sighed, truly relieved, and he was glad you came to talk to him and properly apologize for the blunder.

"Thank you for your time and kindness, professor. I hope you have a good day."

He bowed his head slightly.

"Same to you."

However, something was still scratching at the back of his mind.

"Hm, hey… since we are on the topic of clothing and I just let you off the hook on paying for my dry cleaning…" Higuruma said, and you stopped midway towards the door, turning to face him.

"This might be an odd question, but I'm very curious."

"Hm… what is it?"

He pointed at your sleeping shirt, now evident under the open coat.

"Are those pajamas?"

You immediately pulled your coat over your hello kitty top, lifting one eyebrow in pathetic defiance.

"Of course… not?"

Higuruma thought to himself that you were turning into one of the most unique students he ever had.

"Do you intend to be an attorney?"

"... yes?" You answered, with some suspicion.

He huffed.

"Then improve your lying game for Court. You can do your crazy, but defend it as if it was the utmost truth in the universe, okay?"

Higuruma couldn't quite explain it, but this conversation with you was strangely amusing.

Maybe going back to the classroom wouldn't be so difficult after all, if even half of his students were a little out of sorts like this.

"... Okay," you replied, removing your hand and letting your pathetic sanrio pajamas shirt show once again.

"So, are those pajamas?" he inquired again, more incisively.

You straightened yourself and made a fake serious expression.

"Of course not."

"Much better," Higuruma answered with an actual smile.

The way his cheek creased around his mouth was weirdly charming, just as most things about him, it seemed.

Trying not to stare, you smiled back at Higuruma and turned around, leaving for your next class with heat prickling against your cheeks.

Tag list:

@arusearu @yammy-yammy-yama @markleeisdabestdrug @redlikerozez @delirious-donna

@alwaysfreakingout @murderofravens @senseifupa @higurumapet @cindyneko-strider

@ohhheymessa @actuallysaiyan @bigbaddulce

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cybertron-smash-or-pass · 3 months

Note

You are so unbelievably correct about Animated Megashock. They are completely incapable of being normal about each other and it's the best thing ever.

Me every time one of my cool mutuals tells me I have good opinions

Real talk tho, TFA megashock lives in my head rent free. Megatron as a character is so fucking fascinating to me just because it's so hard to read his actual motives, but the clear, constant throughline you can always pick up is a DEEP distrust of everything and everyone around him. Even in the first episode, before Starscream tries to outright kill him, he tells him straight up that he doesn't want him going after the Allspark. He makes a grab for it alone because he just straight up doesn't trust anyone else with that much power. And then Starscream's bomb happens, Megs wakes up as a severed head with half his bits rearranged wrong, and he's on full alert all the fucking time after. He doesn't trust Sumdac, he doesn't trust anyone on Earth, he doesn't even trust his own Decepticons. He thinks LUGNUT of all bots might be out to get him, if only for a moment.

And the thing that's got me pacing around my fuckin room and scratching up the walls, other than pretty much every interaction megs has with shockwave through the whole series, is this one little detail in the Allspark almanac.

God. It's got me fucked UP.

Does Shockwave realize he's the only thing keeping Megatron from a mental breakdown? Does Megatron??? How close are they on a personal level, exactly? Because you don't just get mr. "I'm surrounded by enemies" to admit that on no uncertain terms in front of Primus and everyone unless he MEANS it, and he's PROUD of it.

That is the one bot he can depend on for certain. Shockwave is his stability, his rock, as reliable as the cannon on his arm (god the juiciness of their weapons being so similar too. Fuck. Just marry each other already). He is the trusty weapon he knows he can conquer with. And that's the closest thing to love Megatron would ever let himself feel.

I like to think Shockwave knows hes a weapon in the eyes of his leader and he wouldn't have it any other way. And a lot of that probably comes from how warframes were treated by the autobots before the whole Decepticon movement kicked up. They were assembled with the intent to be killers. Created to be powerful and terrible, treated as living weapons from the moment they came into existence, and hated for it.

To shockwave, Megatron treating him as a weapon is likely what he's come to expect. It's what EVERY warframe expects. But Megatron doesn't treat him as something dreadful for it. He doesn't look at him with disgust or fear or contempt when he carries out the exact destruction he's told to. He looks at him with pride. With a pleased smile. He's met with praise and tenderness. And after such a long time of being made to fight and destroy, only to be treated like garbage, it's probably pure euphoria to be told he's doing a good job at what he was created for.

He will never be good in the eyes of the autobots that made him to be destructive. He'll never be anything other than terrifying. But to Megatron, he's good enough. With Megatron, there's a right answer. With Megatron, he's okay with being a weapon because it finally feels right, if only because there's finally someone there to tell him he's done a good job.

They're both so fucked up by the system and their own trauma that they don't really know how to love each other in a way that's normal or healthy but that will not stop them from trying to love anyway.

#megatron #shockwave #not polls #tfa #megashock #doodles from lord megatron #im not fully sure why im still leaning into the bit of this blog being run by tfp megatron #but that first pic is arguably one of the funniest images ive ever created #but yeah god. fuck. them.#i cant believe they invented toxic yaoi in 2008

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haggishlyhagging · 11 months

Text

The more women are paid, the less eager they are to marry. A 1982 study of three thousand singles found that women earning high incomes are almost twice as likely to want to remain unwed as women earning low incomes. "What is going to happen to marriage and childbearing in a society where women really have equality?" Princeton demographer Charles Westoff wondered in the Wall Street Journal in 1986. "The more economically independent women are, the less attractive marriage becomes."

Men in the '80s, on the other hand, were a little more anxious to marry than the press accounts let on. Single men far outnumbered women in dating services, matchmaking clubs, and the personals columns, all of which enjoyed explosive growth in the decade. In the mid-80s, video dating services were complaining of a three-to-one male-to-female sex ratio in their membership rolls. In fact, it had become common practice for dating services to admit single women at heavily reduced rates, even free memberships, in hopes of remedying the imbalance.

Personal ads were similarly lopsided. In an analysis of 1,200 ads in 1988, sociologist Theresa Montini found that most were placed by thirty-five-year-old heterosexual men and the vast majority "wanted a long-term relationship." Dating service directors reported that the majority of men they counseled were seeking spouses, not dates. When Great Expectations, the nation's largest dating service, surveyed its members in 1988, it found that 93 percent of the men wanted, within one year, to have either "a commitment with one person" or marriage. Only 7 percent of the men said they were seeking "lots of dates with different people." Asked to describe "what concerns you the day after you had sex with a new partner," only 9 percent of the men checked "Was I good?" while 42 percent said they were wondering whether it could lead to a "committed relationship."

These men had good cause to pursue nuptials; if there's one pattern that psychological studies have established, it's that the institution of marriage has an overwhelmingly salutary effect on men's mental health. "Being married," the prominent government demographer Paul Glick once estimated, "is about twice as advantageous to men as to women in terms of continued survival." Or, as family sociologist Jessie Bernard wrote in 1972:

“There are few findings more consistent, less equivocal, [and] more convincing, than the sometimes spectacular and always impressive superiority on almost every index—demographic, psychological, or social—of married over never-married men. Despite all the jokes about marriage in which men indulge, all the complaints they lodge against it, it is one of the greatest boons of their sex.”

Bernard's observation still applies. As Ronald C. Kessler, who tracks changes in men's mental health at the University of Michigan's Institute for Social Research, says: "All this business about how hard it is to be a single woman doesn't make much sense when you look at what's really going on. It's single men who have the worst of it. When men marry, their mental health massively increases."

The mental health data, chronicled in dozens of studies that have looked at marital differences in the last forty years, are consistent and overwhelming: The suicide rate of single men is twice as high as that of married men. Single men suffer from nearly twice as many severe neurotic symptoms and are far more susceptible to nervous breakdowns, depression, even nightmares. And despite the all-American image of the carefree single cowboy, in reality bachelors are far more likely to be morose, passive, and phobic than married men.

When contrasted with single women, unwed men fared no better in mental health studies. Single men suffer from twice as many mental health impairments as single women; they are more depressed, more passive, more likely to experience nervous breakdowns and all the designated symptoms of psychological distress—from fainting to insomnia. In one study, one third of the single men scored high for severe neurotic symptoms; only 4 percent of the single women did.

-Susan Faludi, Backlash: the Undeclared War Against American Women

#susan faludi #heterosexuality #amerika #male fragility #marriage #male mental health

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dawnoftime22 · 9 months

Text

i don't know.

| N.R

Warnings: long windup to a mental breakdown, loss of breathing, numbing day, vent fic, maybe some bad writing here and there? r loves waffles

Summary: When everything, such as emotions, ends up building away a little too much, the days start to blur together until you soon break. But Nat was there every part of the way.

Word Count: 3k

Category: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort(?)

A/N: hi my darlings :] its a new year and I just wanted to say I love you all and I am so so proud of you for just being here. you are not alone in whatever you're facing. things are hard sometimes and this was hard to write but you make me smile when I see you in my notifs <3 hugs to all of you, you're doing amazing

I hope this fic brings you comfort as it did for me

| Started on 12/11/2023, 7:29 AM |

| Finished on 08/01/2024, 2:05 PM |

Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

"my love. listen to me. breathe, let go, and focus on you and your surroundings. you're safe."

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

It was yet another day. Another tiring day. You haven't gone through it yet, but you sure didn't get much rest even though you've slept.

You sigh, and turn your back on the bed. Nat was sleeping beside you, but you were too caught up in zoning out to move closer to her. And you didn't want to wake her yet.

Nothing has even happened today and still, you can't bare to think about anything. Perhaps all your emotions are catching up, and at that thought, you turn your face into the pillow.

Another few minutes pass by with you staring at the ceiling, turning until your leg and arm was dangling off the side of the bed, or face down on your pillow. It didn't take long for your temptation to shuffle closer to Nat to take over though.

You slowly put your arms around her and snuggle closer to her, taking comfort in the warmth of her body. With her being a light sleeper though, she starts to stir awake. Her eyes open and her arms move to hold yours.

"Morning, любовь (love)." She whispered, her voice raspy, but her words filling the room and your heart with warmth with even the smallest way. Maybe this day won't be so bad...Maybe this day won't be so bad.

She turns in your embrace and looks at you with gentle half-lidded eyes, her nose brushing against yours ever so slightly with the fact that you were face-to-face. She could see it in your eyes already, something was off. She moves herself up to leave the softest kiss on your forehead. You could've broken there already, but you didn't. You didn't.

You rest your head against her chest, a small pout making its way to your face. She runs her hand through your hair and holds you for a few more minutes, the both of your breathing being able to be heard as if on whispering volume, but it was there, and gentle.

Soon she pulls away, dragging herself up to a more sitting position, leaving you beside her stomach level. You assume she was about to get up to do her morning routine, and you were about to prepare to pull her back to bed.

"What do you want for breakfast?" She asks, and the question almost made you confused, because you were expecting she would go for her morning run, but it seems, she wants to do something else.

With the simple question, you manage to make up an answer. Although it did take you a few minutes, with your jumbled up mind.

"Waffles." She smiles, having heard that answer several times. Nat gently nudges you to move you to the pillow instead, and goes to get up from the bed.

"Wait," you say suddenly, capturing her arm before it could be out of your reach. She turns back to you, a gentle and curious look upon her face.

"Are you staying?" You ask, your voice being nothing more than a whisper. But the little shakiness it holds doesn't pass by her ears.

"Of course I am." It was a rather simple answer. But the touch of her hand against yours and her eyes meeting yours was more than enough of a promise.

She gives you a small smile before going into the bathroom with her towel, the shower soon being an occuring noise coming from the bathroom.

Your eyes glide over to the window, the view being buildings and the sky filled with fluffy clouds. Your mind strayed. The running water was the only other thing you could focus on.

When Nat came out, she was wrapped into a towel. You pull the covers closer to yourself and curl up under them, feeling colder from just the gusts of wind the ceiling fan is making. Were you only sick and gathering a fever? No. No, that wasn't it.

You turn to look back at Nat, and she was fully clothed already. You watch her walk towards the bed, reaching out her arm to put the back of her hand against your forehead. It wasn't warm. She must know something is up already.

"Shower, okay? Or, you won't get any waffles." She says, her fingers moving a stray hair out of your face, but looking at you with raised eyebrows.

"Is that a threat?" You finally give her the smallest raise on the corners of your lips, and it took everything in her not to cheer.

"Yes, it is!" She said jokingly, her voice further away now that she went out the door, but the volume made it so that the words reached your ears. You shake your head, the sound of her voice being the most adorable thing to you.

You lay your back against the bed once more, staring up at the moving ceiling fan. Today is going to be a long day.

Some movement could be seen in the corner of your eye, and you almost thought Nat was back already, but then when you look, you only see a black furry animal coming to visit you.

Liho jumps up on the bed, and stares at you with her yellow eyes. The cat walks closer, and you go to pet it, the soft fur precious against your gentle hands.

It's cold nose touches you, and at it, you smile. You had forgotten cats had cold noses. Liho steps back a bit, and you tilt your head, wondering about her next move.

She leaped to the other side of the bed, going above your legs to reach to where Nat usually lays, and meows at you.

With your head and eyes following her movement, it soon went up to where the bathroom is. You blink at it for a second or two, making up decisions in your head.

Soon enough, you willed yourself out of bed by slowly going to a sitting position, to letting your legs dangle at the side of the bed, and finally, with hesitancy, getting up.

You were about to go search the closet for an outfit to wear, but then you see at the edge of the bed, a folded hoodie and your favorite sweatpants prepared already, by perhaps, Nat.

Your heart warmed at the caring gesture she did. With the more courage, you make your way to the bathroom to take a warm shower, hoping that the day will only get better.

When you got back out, the fluffy towel kept you feeling cozy, and you got your clothes on. By the time you look to the door and walk to the kitchen, Nat was sitting at the kitchen island, ready with two plates of waffles.

She glances up and sees you, a soft smile present on her face. What got you so lucky to have someone like her? You sit down in front of her, and enjoy the waffles she prepared, the soft texture of your hoodie giving as much comfort as the warmth of the waffle soon going in your mouth.

The rest of the day then consisted of you being unable to focus on anything. You couldn't read, and you couldn't do your hobbies without straying off to doing something else such as staring off into space or just laying on the couch or bed doing nothing.

You yawn, for the tenth time the past hour. But you weren't sleepy. Gosh, you were tired though. Nat was beside you on the couch, working on something on her laptop while you scrolled endlessly on your phone.

Her eyes go over to you, before flickering back to her laptop, her hands then moving to turn it off and close it. She turns her head to you, and the attention you feel from the side has you looking away from your phone and instead, at her.

"Do you wanna sit down outside? The sun's going down." She tilts her head towards the door, then goes to glance at the window in the living room, it having a view of the sky slowly changing color.

Your eyes had a certain shine on them when they laid upon the window, the colors and the way the sunlight does a shape of the window somewhere on the floor finally captured an attention of your auto-pilot mind. You nod at Nat's question, a quiet "Yeah," making out of you.

"Look," you say, just as Nat was about to get up from the couch. She looks down and was just as entranced as you were at the scenery in front of her.

"You should take a photo." She encourages you with a small smile and stands up. You take out your phone and find a perfect angle to grab a picture. Also making sure the exposure is on the perfect level.

"I'll make us hot chocolate, yeah? You can go out first so you don't miss the first few minutes." Nat says, going to the kitchen. Liho enters the scene, and lays down on the carpet just next to where it seeped in the sun, and you just had to take another picture.

After you were satisfied, you push yourself up with your hands and make your way to the door, slowly opening it and going out, leaving it open just a crack so Nat could come outside easier.

A golden sunset spreads throughout the place. The sun paints the sky a lovely shade of orange mixed with light blue, and a tinge of pink. You admire how smooth the gradient is.

The wooden texture of the floor makes itself known on your hands as you shuffled to rest your back against the wall of the house, but you slide your hands into your pockets comfortably.

The door opens, and Nat comes outside with two fresh mugs of hot chocolate. One being coffee though, for herself. She was quick. In your peripheral vision, you could see her sitting next to you on the porch, and hand you one mug.

You turn your head to look at her, and you reach up with one of your hands that held you up to grab the hot chocolate. The warmth made itself comfortable in your hands as you clasped it lightly to not burn yourself, but making sure your grip wasn't too loose.

You take a deep breath in, and let it out as a long sigh, not meaning to do it so audibly. Natasha takes notice of this, and her eyes drift from the view of the sunset, over to you, seeing just how lost in your head you were.

"Are you okay детка (baby)?" She starts gently with a simple question. She knows today was one of those days.

"I don't know," you say. It was honest. You don't know what you've felt for a while, but it was certainly gnawing at you for something. Some kind of release. You just didn't have time or energy to in the past few days.

"You've been off the entire day." She adds, her voice laced with concern, but no judgement. She put her mug to the side after another sip, her focus all on you while you tried to keep yours on the sunset.

"I just wanna stay home right now," you whisper. It's not that she was about to ask you if you wanted to go out, but rather, just the fact that you felt comfortable and safe at the moment. This is home. She's your home.

Nat's eyes roam your face, searching for all the thoughts you're thinking. But she couldn't really read your face. Perhaps because, you didn't know what you were feeling either. Sad? Mad? Stressed? Anxious? So many feelings available to name, but all you felt was a sense of heaviness.

"...I feel like falling apart anytime." that was the only other thing you could say. Your voice quiet, so quiet she could only hear it because she was right beside you.

It clicks in for Nat, and she understands fully. She's done it herself, countless times. And you were there nearly every single time. Feelings being kept and slowly overflowing, until everything in the past few months catch up.

You tried everything within you not to. You tried. But it's not possible with how much you've already tried avoiding your emotions. The birds chirped and flew off home while the sun sank down.

Nat hears a small sniffle and a quiet but sharp intake of a breath coming from you, until another slightly louder sniffle comes out, and you turn your head to face her. She sees your eyes glistening with tears, and she takes in her own breath to not cry herself. To see you in such a state left a crack in her heart.

Her arms instinctively goes to pull you closer and hold you, and that was when you broke. You hid in her neck and sobbed in her embrace, your tears staining her shirt.

It was unusual, but not the first time you've broken down like this. Nat was still getting used to saying assuring words, but she thinks about all the things you've said to her before, and tries her best to use it in her own ways.

She gently runs her fingers through your hair, holding you safely. She could feel your body shaking, and your chest going up in hiccups from your breathing between your sobs.

"Oh, солнышко (sunshine)." She whispers softly, so softly. The sounds of your cries made her frown. She knows you can hold too many things in sometimes, but this was...heartbreaking.

Your fingers were gripping her shirt, afraid that perhaps, she'd disappear. But you can hear her heart beating, being so near to her chest while you were at her neck.

When she hears you taking too many, far too many breaths, she knows she has to step in. She leans back a little to see you, and you look up at her with your tear filled eyes.

"Look at me...follow my breathing, alright? I don't want you to lose it." She says, her head moving with her movement, but her voice was gentle, yet firm enough for you to keep a focus on her.

She takes a deep breath in from her nose and lets it out from her mouth, encouraging you follow. You eventually manage to do it, after a bunch of hiccups, and slowly regain your normal breathing. Nat nods slightly, her hands moving up to move your hair back, showing more of your face and hoping it makes breathing easier for you, giving you space.

"Take your time, дорогой (darling)." Her eyes move back to yours, the green in her pupils holding the look of a forest. A peaceful one.

"There you go." She quietly said, leaning in to rest her forehead against yours, the touch comforting you. She gives you a small reassuring smile before going up and laying a kiss on your forehead.

"You'll be okay." Your teeth catches your lip as you look at her, and she can tell there were thoughts racing in your head. She runs her thumb lightly on your lips, making you let go of it.

Once again, a black furry cat enters your vision, and it goes in between you and Nat, making the both of you look down for a moment.

You, with your cheeks stained with your tears, Liho walks up to you and rubs her head and body against yours, the gesture making your heart melt.

A teary laugh comes from you, and you reach out to touch it, the soft fur going against your hand. Liho, too, was concerned it seems, from how long you've been sitting outside, but also moves to go to Nat, checking on her too.

The redhead picks the cat up, petting it for a few seconds before setting it aside. Liho sits down, watching the two of you before her attention went to the streetlights turning on. You two stare at her for a bit until your eyes meet each other once more.

She shuffles closer to you once again and you rest your head against her shoulder, the heaviness in your own shoulders and heart having faded away in the mental breakdown. You felt steadier again, just a little more.

"I love you, okay?" She whispered, her eyes on the wooden floor the porch held, but her focus being all on you.

"I love you, too. So much." You couldn't be more grateful for her. She would always be there for you, whether it be through the hard times or the light and happier times.

Liho turns back to you two and goes to lay down between your bodies. The cat always managed to find a way to come in the right times, too.

With every small step you've taken before, you knew you've come this far not to just stop. Even when it's hard. But even so, you shouldn't always hold yourself too strong. Emotions are complicated. That's just how it is, but letting go could always be a relief.

Here you were in the moment, breathing and living with your heart beating lively in your chest. The gentle touch of Nat's fingers brings you back to reality.

Everything was going to be okay.

------------------

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lokisprettygirl · 5 months

Text

Rain to his Fire (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon 80s Au) (18+)

Read chapter 1 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 2

Summary: Dr. Vis gives you the responsibility of the patient in room 393.

Warning: 18+, discussion of mental health (it's a fic based in a mental health facility), the fic would contain several mentions of several disorders like mpd, did etc, if something triggers you don't read, smoking.

Note : This fic is a bit of a slow burn so don't expect overly heated smut in the second chapter itself.

Species dysphoria, that's what they called it, a feeling of displacement or non-belonging in one's own species and feeling as if you belong to another. Your mother used to talk about one of her patients who felt this way and believed he was a crow - he would make crow sounds, walk and act like one, and even attempted to fly like a crow, which led to him breaking most of his bones.

Upon learning about Daemon's condition, you recognized the similarity to the patient who thought he was a crow, but you also recognized that Daemon was not constantly pretending to be a dragon, he just said that he was one, not just a dragon but a hybrid instead. As you had woken up this morning Mona had informed you that Dr. Vis wanted to meet you which had immediately made you all nervous.

“Good morning Dr. Vis” you mumbled politely so he gestured to you to sit down. He was an intimidating man with brown hair and few wrinkles that came with age of course, eyes always hidden behind those thick glasses, and you had never seen him in anything but the professional suit he would wear and of course the doctor's coat. As the silence made you uncomfortable you began to pick on your nails nervously like you always did in anxious situations.

“The new patient in 393 is not allowed to leave his room for two days, I want you to make sure his meals and medicines are taken care of” he passed you a piece of paper as he spoke so you nodded. The paper contained a breakdown of the patient's diet plan and a list of medications.

“Anything else sir?” You asked him so he gave you a smile,

“Don't be fooled by his charm, he's insane but very sharp minded, he can read weaknesses and he will try to manipulate you”

You felt slightly offended at his words, just because he was a semi good looking man that didn't mean you were going to salivate after him like Shyla and others.

“Don't worry sir, I don't get overly involved with patients”

He gave you another smile but it only made you more uncomfortable.

“That's why I'm giving you this responsibility, get going now”

You got up and proceeded to step out of his office, there was always a shortage of staff in the center, the main reasons being that it was located right in between the dense woods where it wasn't really possible for everyone to spend hours commuting back and forth everyday, and not everyone was willing to stay here 24/7, only single people and those desperate for a job did so. People like you.

During Lunch time you grabbed the plate for Daemon and placed it on a tray as you made your way to room 393, you knocked on his door twice before you entered yourself.

It was dark in there as the blinds were off so you placed the cart on the side and were about to open the blinds when you heard his distinct voice.

“Don't do it” his voice came out all groggy so you hummed in response and turned on the bedside lamp instead to not irritate him further.

“You need to eat before your medication” you mumbled softly as you neared the bed, he was laying on his front with his head squished into the pillow, as usual he didn't have a shirt on. You couldn't help but stare at the large, diagonal scars that stretched across his back, which looked like they'd been inflicted by a large object. Despite the urge to touch them, you refrained but you wondered how he had gotten them.

“Daemon?” You called out his name again so he rose from the bed and stepped towards the bathroom, letting out a low moan of discomfort. You had to turn around quickly because as the sheets dropped his naked sculpted behind came into your view. His room was also freezing cold so you wondered how Dr. Vis had allowed him this privilege in this cold weather.

As Daemon stepped out of the bathroom he smirked as he saw you standing with your back against the bathroom. You had your usual work uniform on, a light brown colored dress with a cardigan on top.

“Never seen a man naked before?” He asked as he pulled his pants up you so you rolled your eyes, that was none of his business even if you hadn't.

“Don't speak to me like that, I'm not your servant” you warned him as you turned around hoping that you'd not see him naked again.

“Mmmmmhhhmmm of course you're the doctor's servant aren't you? That is why you are here, attempting to impress him with a job well done so perhaps he'd pity fuck you finally and you'd get a promotion?” He spoke with that annoying smirk on his face but his eyes softened as you teared up, you had never been spoken to this way, people mostly respected you here, patients and staff alike.

“Finish your food, I'll be back in half an hour” you told him sternly as you walked past him but your breath hitched as he grabbed your upper arm.

“Stay, I'm sorry, I don't want to be alone” the tone of his voice had changed suddenly so you sighed,

“Will you behave?” You asked him sternly so he nodded before he sat down on the bed so you passed him the plate of food you had brought for him.

“I'm not your enemy alright, i have been assigned to take care of you-” before you could even finish your sentence he cut you off and looked you in the eye,

“Take care of me? Pretty girl you have no clue what you'd have to do for me if you really want to take care of me” he mumbled as he shoved a piece of steak into his mouth. You never had an urge to slap a patient until now.

“You're doing it again”

“I'm jesting..I'm bored senseless,”

“Well you must have pissed them off to deserve the confinement, otherwise you'd have been out there doing fun activities with other patients” you retorted so he opened his mouth and smirked again,

“Does the fun involve orgies?”

Taking a deep sigh you didn't respond this time as you didn't want to encourage him. When he was done eating you made sure he had ingested his medicines before you left him alone for good.

After two days of isolation, Dr. Vis had granted Daemon the brief privilege to take a walk outside. You were entrusted with accompanying him throughout the premises. Despite the fact that he was handcuffed, you couldn't help but feel nervous about being alone with him, given his unpredictable nature.

As the two of you reached the conclusion of the walking path, Daemon chose to settle on a grassy patch, he seemed calm for once so you didn't want to disturb him.

“Sit with me y/n” he mumbled softly so you nodded and sat down next to him to offer him some company. Isolation wasn't pleasant.

“What's a lady like you doing around here? Does the constant exposure to such madness not drive you mad as well?” he asked you with a touch of curiosity so you turned to look at him.

“First of all What do you mean a lady like me?” You asked him so he made eye contact with you before he smiled like a cheshire cat.

“You're too pretty to be cleaning up after crazies” your face felt warm as he said that, you didn't appreciate him calling the fellow patients crazy but his compliment almost sounded genuine and you weren't used to being complimented this way, it also sucked that he was kind of sort of beautiful, you couldn't help but stare at his sharp features, perhaps those strange features contributed into making him believe that he was an otherworldly creature that don't even exist..

“What's wrong with helping people? Besides they're not crazy…most of them are just sick and traumatized from their past, there's a reason behind every ailment” you emphasized so he let out the sort of smile that you could hear.

“How old are you?” He asked you so you shrugged in response.

“30..close to 31” you mumbled softly and you could tell he was surprised by the knowledge.

“You don't look a day older than twenty five darling”

“Well there's not much difference between 25 and 30.. how old are you?”

“Why would you want to know?”

He asked you and you almost felt embarrassed, now you could see what Dr. Vis meant when he said that Daemon was a charming man.

“I'm just countering your questions buddy”

He chuckled as you said that.

“I'm thirty four sweetheart”

“Mhhhm and since when you feel that you're a uhhh…a dragon?”

The look on his face changed as you brought it up , he turned his whole body towards you and scooted closer as he looked at you intently.

“Don't mock me frail little thing, it would do you no good” he hissed his words, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate you but he was handcuffed. What's the worst he could do? And why did you want to figure it out so badly?

“I was just asking you a genuine question”

“Did Vis ask you to shove your nose into my personal business?” he questioned so you shook your head immediately.

“Noo i am curious”

“Ohhh I know you're curious”

He tilted his head and pressed his nose against your neck to sniff you again, this time in broad daylight, if someone was to see you like this it wouldn't go down well.

“You didn't answer my question”

You mumbled gently so he dragged his nose over the vein on your neck before he stepped away, that's when you were able to let out the breath you had been holding in.

“For as long as I could remember, I knew what I was”

His voice was deep as he whispered, pupils dilated now as if he was drunk or high on something all of a sudden.

“Why do you sniff me like this?” you asked him, curiosity apparent in your tone.

“To read, to assess, to judge”

“What are you assessing?”

“Assessing whether you are as sweet on the inside as you smell and look”

“Alright…umm we need to get back now” you stood up suddenly so he snickered as if he was proud of himself.

You knew you had to maintain some professional distance from him if he was going to sniff you out of nowhere.

And you knew you had to deny the fact that it made you feel so warm and tingly sudden whenever he was so close to you.

Perhaps you had an ailment of your own because you had never really felt a genuine sexual attraction towards a man all your life, the only crush towards the opposite sex you remember having as a child was on this actor from the movies, Paul Newman. Men didn't attract you, nor did women, you loved the idea of romance and love but you had never experienced it, you never found yourself thinking or dreaming about anyone constantly. It made you yearn for that sort of connection but you were never able to find it in a man. You had learned to accept it as it was.

But something changed that night, as you laid down on your bed you found yourself thinking about him, his hazel eyes that you could have sworn were glowing under the sunlight, his silver hair longing to be touched.

“Fucking stop it..he's sick ..he's sick…he's a patient, you're responsible for him in a way so stop indulging him” you mumbled in your head over and over again until you were drifted into sleep.

But the sleep didn't bring you any relief, it worsened it instead. You saw him in your dream, you saw yourself laying on the same patch of grass and he was on top of you all naked, as you pressed your head up you realized you didn't have any clothes on either, your legs were secured around his slender waist, his hair falling on your face so you tucked them behind his ear, that's when he lifted his head up to look at you.

He licked your lips with his tongue, before he kissed you and it was as if you could feel his touch all over you, he was burning like a fire but you didn't feel uncomfortable, it calmed you instead. The wet grass beneath your flesh, the warmth of his body all around you, the smell of the forest, everything intoxicated you.

He then let out a growl as his hips moved slowly against yours,

“Daemon–” you couldn't help but moan his name, your fingers clutched onto the strands of grass so he grabbed your hands and placed them over your head,

“You're mine you know that right? I have got my eyes on you and I'm not leaving without you, the moment I saw you i knew you belonged to me, a part of my soul that I have been missing”

He mumbled between his staggering breaths and all you could do was whine and whimper in response, your arms wrapped around his upper back and then you felt something.

Something protruding out of his back, wings, you felt the wings….

That's when you were awakened by the loud sound of your alarm, drenched in your own sweat, breathing was faster as if you had raced away from something, and worst of all your panties were soaked.

“What the fuck…the fuck” you groaned as you got out of the bed.

The dream, it was so vivid, it felt so real. It felt like a memory you have never lived.

That afternoon you were asked to grab his meal and leave it outside of his room but that bothered you. Why wasn't he present in the cafeteria with other patients? Had he done something to warrant confinement again?

As his plate was made you placed it on a cart along with a glass of water and made way to his room..

You were instructed to leave the food outside his room with a knock but you felt restless. Why weren't you allowed to see him?

After wrestling with your thoughts for a moment you decided to enter instead, there was no one around the hallway and if you were caught you'd simply tell them that you only went inside to check up on him because he hadn't come out for his food in a while.

As you stepped inside his room you found him on the floor instead of the bed so you quickly closed the door behind you,

“Daemon.. hey” you crouched down to check up on him as he wasn't conscious and immediately checked his pulse for signs of life. Upon confirming that he was indeed breathing, you proceeded to look around for signs of injury or drug overdose, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Desperate to awaken him, you snatched the glass of water and sprinkled the droplets over his face.

And it worked, you saw him moving his eyes before he opened them up slowly,

“Heyyyy ..oh thank God, are you okay” you asked him worriedly so he sat up slowly. He was still in his uniform as he had returned from his therapy session with Dr. Vis.

“What happened?” He asked you so you looked at him worriedly.

“You were unconscious..I don't know for how long” he placed his hand over his head and that's when he cursed loudly.

“The bastard zapped me”

“What?” You asked him confused so he groaned as he tried to stand up on his own but his body felt weak so you offered your support and that's when it clicked what he had meant.

“He used a stun gun on you?” You asked him as you helped him sit down on the bed.

“Leave me alone” he mumbled as he placed his head down into his palms so you sighed and got up,

“Will you eat?” You asked him and perhaps it was the gentle tone of your voice but as he looked up at you, his eyes were teary

“Don't go…don't leave me alone”

The sad murmur of his voice made you feel really awful for him, the constant mood swings, the way he seemed so broken bothered you alot.

“I can't stay, I was asked to leave your food outside, I'm already breaking my code”

You said to him so he grabbed your hand, his thumb ran over your fingernails, they were red and flamed from the recent biting and picking and you felt a little embarrassed by them, not to mention his touch was making you feel weak at the same time.

“Why did he use a stun gun?” You asked as you crouched down on your knees and placed your palm on his shoulder to comfort him.

“So I'd accept that I'm not a dragon, that I'm just an ordinary man like him.. like all of them”

He mumbled somberly, his words were broken in pieces and it made your own eyes tear up “I am not crazy y/n”

“I know, you just need help-”

“I don't need help, I need to be understood”

“I..” you were at a loss for words as he said that, you wanted to comfort him but you didn't want to lie to him.

“Understood?”

“I know what I am..I'm not delusional or whatever they're trying to make me believe”

“Okay..then why did you agree to come here?”

He went quiet as you questioned him. This wasn't an asylum where people were forced against their will, it was a wellness center. If he didn't want to get better then why did he come here?

“I made a mistake out there .. I didn't know.. couldn't control my powers–they come and go in waves..i have no control..no–” the moment he saw the perplexed look on your face he stopped his rambling, he was saying too much too soon, you weren't going to believe him, nobody believed him “Just go ..I'm done talking”

You nodded as he said that as you didn't want him to get upset or mad again but before leaving you made sure that he was fed.

You felt conflicted about him, he didn't seem dangerous, sure he had his moments of aggression but so did several other patients, why was he being treated so harshly by Dr. Vis?

You couldn't stop thinking about him even when your shift had ended. Sick people were capable of convincing you that they were not sick at all, it wasn't their fault, that's just how their brain operated but Daemon seemed different, you couldn't put your finger on it but he seemed different from the rest of the patients.

That week you didn't see much of him because you weren't really allowed to, Dr. Lisa had informed all the members of the staff that Dr. Vis didn't want anyone interacting with Daemon due to his aggressive and unstable temperament.

Such restrictions only made you want to seek him out further, your mother always told you that patients flourished when they were allowed to be free and form human connections with their caregivers and fellow mates so why was Daemon being treated so differently? That night on the way to the terrace you knocked on his door twice before you climbed the stairs, as you reached up there you didn't lock the door this time from the inside,

“And here I was thinking you were a stickler about this job”

You heard his voice so you smiled and turned around, you had your coat on and your arms crossed together due to the cold but he was without a shirt again. Why didn't he feel cold? Or was he good at pretending he wasn't affected in the slightest?

“I am not going to offer you a cigarette if that's why you came here” you told him so he walked closer to you.

“Tchhh that's a bummer but this ain't too bad either”

He mumbled as he walked past you and leaned against the ledge to look at you intently. What was he thinking you thought, perhaps the fact that you had invited him upstairs when you had no obligation or rights to do so.

“You're cold” he mumbled softly so you chuckled in response

“It's cold out here”

“Mmmhm come here” he tilted his head as he spoke and it made you nervous, the look on his face sent shivers down your spine. You had to remind yourself of your situations to snap back to reality.

“So they will be lifting the restrictions tomorrow..you must be doing well in the therapy” you switched the conversation so he rolled his eyes in response,

“I'm doing what he want me to do”

“And why is that?”

“I want my freedom” he mumbled so you nodded but what he said next made your heart skip a beat “and i miss a certain lady's presence in my room and her forcing me to fucking eat all the time”

You couldn't help but smile as he finished his words.

“Do you feel better?” you asked him in the hope that he won't notice the warmth his words had brought.

“I do now”

Was he flirting with you? You couldn't really tell, you had no idea what he was planning in his head.

“Okay we should go back now–” you mumbled softly so he followed you as you walked side by side, being as careful as you could be.

As his room arrived you whispered a soft good night so he grabbed your hand in his own, his eyes then raked over your fingernails before he looked at you intently

"Next time you're anxious you can use my flesh to pick on, don't ruin yourself"

And then he went in without causing a scene. You hadn't realized all day that you had been smiling constantly these days for some reason. Perhaps you had a crush on him, if this is what a crush on a real man felt like. It was wrong, completely wrong but a crush was just that, a crush. You'd get over it, you were confident about that.

However the next morning you were greeted with an unexpected turn of events as you arrived at the staff area. Mona informed you that Shyla was let go that morning so you'd have to take up double shifts for a few days until the new member was hired,

“Wait ..what happened?” You asked her worriedly so Mona's expression turned serious as she glanced around, ensuring no one was in earshot before stepping closer to you.

“She was caught fooling around with the dragon boy, such a stupid girl”

😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

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