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megamindsecretlair · 3 days ago

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'Twas the Night

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FLUFF, SMUT. Cursing, teasing, PIV, oral (male and female receiving), fingering (female receiving), minor OC lore (sorry!) Use of pet name. Mentions of the n-word, all consensual. Bad jokes, a different side to Terry. Sorry if I missed some. (Some meta jokes and winks and self-indulgent asf)

Summary: Treating yourself to a winter writing getaway, you are startled when the homeowner forgot to mention the 6’3 handyman that came by to fix things around the house. You find an unlikely friendship with the man, opening up about your romance novel. But when you confess that you need some inspiration, Terry is all too happy to be of service.

Word Count: 19,198k

AO3 Link

A/N: WHEW. Forgive me for being late, I was nervous about this one. It's self-indulgent like a MF. I love this Reader and Terry SOOOO bad. I had a hard time letting this one end. So I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Snow crunched under your tire as you pulled up to the quaint cabin at the top of the mountain. You leaned forward in your seat, looking up at the address to make sure it matched. It did. This was the place.

You were glad the outside matched the picture. You couldn’t count how many times you arrived at an Air B&B, just for the lister to pull some fuck shit.

For now, it looked like it lived up the hype. And you made it in time to watch the sun set over North Carolina a little later. You gripped the steering wheel and squealed with delight. This was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

You rolled your truck up to the small, attached garage and got out of the car. You went up the wooden steps to the wide porch that looked ripped from a magazine. There was a hunter green swing set with a pillowed pad on top of the bench. It even had cute throw pillows to match.

Per the owner’s instructions, you were able to easily find the key box disguised as a lantern. You unscrewed the false bottom, retrieved the key and garage door opener, and replaced the bottom.

You headed back to the awaiting truck, looking back at the cabin. You still couldn’t believe that this was all yours for the next two months while you worked on your latest novel. Your family was sad about you missing Christmas and New Year’s with them, but you had all grown out of the traditions. There was no point to be around just to be around.

By the end of this, you were going to have a rough draft to show your agent. That was a guarantee. You pulled your beanie down before getting back in your truck and pulled into the garage.

You entered and turned on lights as you went through the house, familiarizing yourself with the layout and decor. The owner went with a sage green theme, the cabinets in the kitchen painted to match the small fireplace in the living room adjacent to it. There was a throw blanket in the living room with the same color and you had a hunch that the bedroom would be much the same.

The cabin held two distinct buildings with a short hallway to connect it. The bedroom was modest, room enough to not feel claustrophobic but it wasn’t huge either. You checked and true to form, the bedroom held nothing electrical in it.

The king sized bed was almost too big for the room, but it really brought everything together. And yes, there was a sage green throw across the foot of the bed. The artwork on the walls were as non-offensive as possible, full of pictures of trees and animals.

You pulled your phone from your jacket pocket and started recording. “Hey ya’ll, I made it safe and sound. And it’s like the pictures so it’s not a scam! I am loving all these windows but ugh, can these people do anything other than white curtains, white sheets, and pastels? Like damn, I don’t know if I feel safe around all this white!”

You giggled as you went through the house, checking things out but mostly checking for anything weird or creepy. No cameras, no drilled holes, no false paintings. You showed a few things around the house and then flipped the camera towards you.

“I am signing off, my loves. I’ve got my inspection to do. Love you bunches, I hope to be two-hundred and seventy pages heavier after this!” You blew a kiss into the camera and then sent it to your friends and family.

Almost immediately, your mom started in on the issue with you being out in the mountains by yourself. Your sister piped in to remind your mom that you were grown, still in the state, and it was pretty sexist to say a woman needed a man to protect her all the time.

“Exactly,” you agreed out loud. You put up your phone and then really got to business. You took off your purple jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door. You took off your purple hoodie and hung that up as well.

You put on your headphones and your favorite cleaning playlist, full of hip hop and R&B oldies. Then, you retrieved cleaning supplies from your car and went through the house with a fine-tooth comb.

Some may call you…odd. And that was fair. You knew how annoying you could be about cleanliness, but you just really wanted to avoid getting sick. You turned into an entire baby when you got sick and considering no one was around to give you said princess treatment, it was best to remain healthy.

That and people were just plain fucking nasty.

Luckily, it seemed like this cabin was professionally cleaned. You mostly sanitized every surface you could find, dancing and shaking your booty to the songs as they came on. “Never Too Much” by Luther Vandross came on while you were mopping the kitchen.

You danced around the small kitchen in your mop slippers, singing into the mop handle as if it were a microphone. You sang along with Luther at the top of your lungs, badly, and let the song keep you energized.

You headed to the bedroom with a black light to check over the sheets and mattress. There were a few specks of mysterious origins which was to be expected, but the mattress was fresh. The sheets were clean as well, but you weren’t going to hop in someone else’s sheets anyway.

You hauled deep rose bedding into the room from your car and made up the bed how you liked. You brought your own pillows as well, fluffing it on top. Now the space was starting to feel comfortable. Your anxiety lowered inch by smooth inch.

You looked around the bedroom, scanning for anything you might have missed. Your eyes caught on the window, on the mix of oranges and pinks.

“Shit!” You screamed as you tore through the house, towards the kitchen, and made you a quick cup of tea. You doctored it how you liked and then added cold water. You took the mug and your own blanket outside to the back porch.

The owner had built another world in the backyard. The patio was covered with an awning that connected to the house. There were egg chairs and a sofa set up around a stylish oak table. Plants sat in planters around the area and there was a rug underneath the table. Fairy lights were strewn about giving the space a warm glow.

“Oh fuck yessss,” you groaned, sitting down in the comfy egg chair and looked out over the open back yard. The grass was vividly green, swaying slightly with the light breeze. Woods encroached the perimeter, thick with leaves and underbrush. Anything could be out there, adding to the mystery and awe it inspired.

You draped the throw around your shoulders and then sat in silence, watching the sunset. Soft blues were chased out of the sky by pinks, oranges, and the softest purples blending into the pitch black sky.

Stars winked on as if there were tiny caretakers igniting each one. Your mind spun with idea after idea, but these you would let pass. Not everything had to be about writing. Some things just needed to be experienced.

The tea kept you warm as the temperature dropped more and more. When your nose got too cold and you sniffed one too many times, you finally packed it in and went back to cleaning. Your playlist kept you upbeat as you cleaned out the bathroom.

Done with everything, you finally felt comfortable enough to shower. Scrubbing the day away with your favorite soap nearly made you ascend to another plane. You giggled to yourself as your mind spun once more, crafting a whole silly scenario just because.

You sighed. You needed a man. Well, okay, ‘needed’ was a strong word. But you were giving up comedy gold over here. There should be someone around to witness it! Then again, did you really want to explain your quirks to someone?

You shook your head. You were not here for all of that. You were here to get some much needed writing done away from your family and friends. You knew they meant well, but it was almost pathological with the way they relied so heavily on you.

As much you knew that they loved you, you also wondered if they even saw you as a human being with your own interests. They knew you needed to write and yet they came bursting in anyway, calling, texting, bugging to no end. You were tired of explaining that you weren’t rejecting them, you just needed to focus on writing.

Either they truly didn’t get it or they willfully ignored your needs. And you just didn’t have time for that. When your editor, Vanessa, suggested that you made enough money now that a writing retreat was well within your budget, it was like a wake up call.

Of course. The solution was right there. You immediately hopped on Google to determine which place called to you more. You always wanted a winter writing escape and a few keystrokes later, you were on your way with your family scratching their heads.

You dried yourself off in the bathroom and lotioned yourself up. You left the bathroom in a cloud of scented steam. You opted for a pair of panties and an oversized red T-shirt that reached down to your knees. The place had central heating but you didn’t want to turn it up too much. Just enough to warm the wooden flooring.

You spent the next hour making tacos, the heavenly aroma of meat and salsa making your mouth water. You cleaned as you went, not wanting to spend the next morning doing dishes. The cabinet below the sink squeaked and you debated telling Mr. Omar about it. It was something small but if you were going to be there for a while, you’d rather not deal with the inconvenience. Ehh, it was small. No need to bother the man for that.

All done, you brought your plate to the living room and camped out, finding something to watch. You had been hearing so much about that show called Rivals on Hulu so you decided to watch it. When the first episode started, you screeched at the TV. It literally opened with someone joining the Mile High Club.

For the rest of the night, you relaxed and zoned out. It was hard for you to truly relax, to truly turn your brain off and just enjoy something. But practice made perfect, so practice you will.

When you yawned for the fifth time in two minutes, you finally gave up the ghost. You turned everything off and put up the food you made. Then you turned everything off as you headed down the short hallway to the bedroom.

It was pitch black inside. Perfect. You only used your bedroom for sleeping and fucking. It signaled to your body that enough was truly enough. No distractions, no connections, nothing to prevent your body from sinking into sleep. And it worked every time.

You crawled into the comfy bed, soothed by the familiar smell of your bedsheets. Your brain blissfully shut up and you fell into a lovely, dream-filled sleep.

You woke up naturally early in the morning. The white curtains in this room were heavier than what was in the rest of the house, allowing limited lighting to reach the bed. Plus, the sun didn’t shine on this side so the added shade soothed your overworked eyes as soon as you got up.

This…you sighed. This was what you needed. You felt so good having true silence for once. No one around, no one bugging you, no one bringing you into their drama, no one leaning on you, no one calling you. It got to the point where you were beginning to hate the sound of your name. Too many people used it to demand your attention, demand your time, and then curse you in the same breath when you retreated and wanted to recharge your mental batteries.

This would likely have to become a tradition. From now on, you would have to choose an Air B&B to get the first draft over with. At least after that, you had the idea out of your head and you could cobble it together among the noise of your demanding family. The brainstorming stage was the most crucial; you could not afford distractions.

You were itching to write but you knew that you needed to eat something first. You got up from bed, scratching beneath your bonnet as you picked your way down the short hallway to the other side of the house.

A heavy boot clanged on something metal, drawing your attention to the kitchen where a tall man dug through your cabinets. You screamed, hopping in place from foot to foot. The man turned around with a jump revealing…a pretty face.

You ran towards the fireplace and grabbed a poker, brandishing it like a spear. “Who the fuck are you?!” You demanded, pulling your shirt down. Fuck. You should’ve worn pants. Well, no, fuck that, he shouldn’t be in your place!

The man lifted his hands and revealed a screwdriver in his hand. “Wait, hol’ on,” he said. His deep voice was unexpected, sounding like a crack of fire on a cold, wintery night.

You moved the poker around in the air, looking around for any other men that may be lurking. The cabin was small enough, the kitchen not too far from the living room. But, besides the bathroom, you could see everything at a glance. You looked out of the windows anyway, searching for any other cars or trucks outside.

“I’m Mr. Omar’s handyman. He asked me to fix the cabinet,” the man said. His scruffy facial hair framed his symmetrical face and hid his lush lips. His eyes were intense, the color of a storm right as it kissed the ocean, and his eyebrows arched severely. He was unreal. But hot or not, he was still a stranger.

His eyes drew down to your legs and you tugged on your shirt as if you could conjure more material. “You think I’m going to buy that? What are you really doing here? You read his mail?” You asked.

You hadn’t seen any mail laying around the place when you cleaned the day before, but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe he dug through the trash or hacked Mr. Omar’s emails.

The man sighed and shook his head. “You watch too much TV,” he said.

“And you need to answer my questions. Who the hell are you?” You asked.

The man kept his hands up but lowered his elbows. “I’m the handyman,” he said, putting emphasis on the word as if that helped. “Terry.”

You squinted at him as you looked around the living room for your phone. You had plugged it in before you went to sleep, but it was hard to look for it and keep an eye on the man.

He watched you and tilted his head. You scowled. Was he just humoring you? If that motherfucker tried anything, he’d lose one of those perfectly sculpted eyes.

You snatched your phone from the end table besides the couch. You held the poker up as a deterrent but the man - “Terry” - didn’t move. He watched you, hands up, calm as a cucumber. If he was a thief or a rapist, he was the worst one you’d ever seen. Or maybe he was the smartest.

You sized him up as you dialed the homeowner’s phone number. “We’re gonna see about you, nigga,” you said. You brought the phone to your ear as Terry smirked.

“I’d believe that more if your voice wasn’t so squeaky,” he said.

“I do not have a squeaky voice!” You yelled.

Terry smirked again, tilting his head as if you just proved his point. “Can I put my hands down?”

“No,” you said. Mr. Omar didn’t answer on the first ring so you tried again.

“Just like a chipmunk,” Terry said. Terry sighed and then leaned against the nearest sink, making you look at the full length of him. He wore dark wash jeans, heavy tan boots, and a black hoodie. He also wore a cream colored beanie pulled low over his head. It ought to be a damn sin to be so fine.

“Hello?” Mr. Omar’s accented voice came on the line. The subtle African pronunciations made you curious about where he was from but you were too chicken to ask.

“Mr. Omar! There is a man in the rental claiming to be your ‘handyman’,” you said, managing to give Terry air quotes around the poker.

Terry smirked and licked his lips, drawing attention to them. They were so pink and big. The more you paid attention to his features, the more striking he became. He looked like a painting made real. Or like one of those artist renditions of Egyptian royalty.

“Ah yes, Terry-Terry. Good man,” Mr. Omar said.

You sighed and turned your head. “What does he look like then?” You asked.

The poker grew heavier now that Mr. Omar vouched for the man. However, you weren’t ready to lower it just yet.

“Tall and like Mufasa,” Mr. Omar said.

You snapped your eyes to Terry, comparing him to a lion. Nah, he was more like a Scar to be honest. But still, the image wouldn’t leave your mind and your thighs responded, tingling with awareness.

You scowled at Terry who pressed his lips together. “Can I lower them now?” He asked, amusement written all over his face.

“Where’s your ID?” You asked.

Terry sighed. “I’m not handing over my ID to a chipmunk,” he said.

You squeaked with an indignant huff and Terry shrugged his shoulders. “Is that all you need?” Mr. Omar asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was coming by?” You asked. You lowered the poker down by your waist, business end sticking out in case this Terry character wanted to try you.

“Forgive me, my memory. I’m an old man,” he said. You rolled your eyes. He was far from an old man, in his early fifties and looked young enough to be a senior at college. The man kept himself fit and in shape, telling you all about his fitness journey during the many conversations you had about the property.

“Right. Thanks, Mr. Omar,” you grumbled and hung up with him. Okay, so the man was legit. But that didn’t explain why he didn’t ring the doorbell.

“I didn’t know anyone was here, I’m sorry. Just let me fix a few things on my list and I’ll be out your hair,” he said.

“Can’t you come back when I’m…” you trailed off and clicked your mouth shut. You were going to tell him to come back when your getaway was over but he didn’t need to know your timeline. He could swing back around and murk your ass.

“When you’re done gathering nuts to hibernate?” He asked.

“Fuck you, I’m not a chipmunk,” you said, smiling despite yourself.

Terry lowered his arms and then made a show of putting the screwdriver down. “Do I get to know your name?” He asked.

You debated giving him even that much, but the manners that were drilled into you refused to let you be rude. You tugged on your shirt and his eyes followed the motion. His focus was…unnerving. You cleared your throat and told him your name. He repeated it one more time and you nodded, a tingle going up your spine at the way he rolled the syllables around with that slight Carolina accent.

“Nice to meet you. Now that we’re good, can you point that somewhere else?” He asked.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Like you were even scared of it,” you said. You placed the poker down on the coffee table. The metal clinked against the glass top but your eyes were glued to Terry’s.

Terry chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “You and your mouseketeers are s’posed to be good at fencing,” he said.

“You know what! You get on my damn nerves!” You said and laughed, giving in to his bad jokes.

“Can I do my job?” He asked.

You were still wary about him being in the house while you were practically naked. You glanced away from him, looking at how far the bedroom was. “How many things do you have to do?” You asked.

“Mr. Omar left me a honey-do,” he said.

You sighed. You didn’t like this one bit. You hadn’t planned on having a visitor while you got into the rhythm of things. But you also didn’t want this man to come back. Though…that wouldn’t totally be the worst thing.

You licked your lips and looked between him and the bedroom. You didn’t want to linger on him but fuck, it was like one look wasn’t enough. Every time you looked at him, you noticed something different about him.

“Tell you what. I’ll spread it out. I’ll only do a few things at a time. Deal?” He asked. He held out his hand, beckoning you to come closer. That was how all horror movies started. The devil himself smirked at you and you scowled, understanding exactly how Eve broke. Had you been her, you wouldn’t have stopped at just the apple.

“Deal, I guess,” you said.

Terry lowered his hand and nodded. “Deal. You won’t even know I’m here,” he said.

Riiiiight. “Just…stay out here. I hear a boot coming down the hall and it’s game over,” you said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, making his accent thicker. The mischief in his eyes made you scowl harder. But his eyes dropped lower and lower and you pulled on your shirt.

You made a beeline to your room, slammed the door shut, and sighed heavily. This was unreal. Absolutely unreal.

You grabbed the nearest pair of sweatpants, yanked it on, and then took a few more deep breaths. You listened for any sense of movement, any creak of the floorboards, or sound of breathing. When there wasn’t any, you cracked open the door.

You headed towards the kitchen to find Terry exactly where you left him, bent over the cabinet as he fixed the hinge. At your approach, he stopped and looked sideways at you. His side profile was lethal, jawline sharp enough to cut glass.

Your belly flipped and you held it like it was a traitor. As if it could give you away. You breezed past him and grabbed your laptop off of the kitchen island, clutching it to your chest as you carried it to the living room and curled up in the corner of the couch.

From this angle, Terry couldn’t sneak behind you and you had a full view of him as he worked. You opened your laptop and opened up your notes for your latest novel. You had the major plot ideas down but you needed to flesh in your characters.

As you researched, adding pins on Pinterest for inspiration, you couldn’t forget that Terry was there no matter what else you did.

He moved with grace like he was completely in tune with his body. The delicate way he held and used the tools drew your attention to his long, thick fingers. Every so often, his tongue stuck out of his mouth as he worked, screwing the bolt down or digging for another screw. He was a distraction and a half.

“You need a picture?”

You gasped as you blinked, coming back to reality. Terry looked sideways at you, his eyes low and sleepy-like.

Wow, your thoughts were not holy. You mentally slapped some sense into yourself. This man was a stranger. A very fine, gorgeous stranger, but an hour ago, you thought he was going to kill you. Be so real right now.

“What?” You asked.

“You were staring,” he said.

“Was not,” you said and sat back on the couch.

“Was to,” he said, testing the cabinet by swinging it back and forth. It didn’t squeak so Terry dropped into a squat to investigate the cabinet below the sink. The stretch of the squat revealed a gorgeous ass to match.

That was it. The man wasn’t real. He had to be conjured from God’s own imagination. God was just showing out when he made Terry and it wasn’t fair. All that fine piece of meat…

Speaking of, you added “piece of meat” under your male character’s profile in your notes. “For your nosy information, staring off into the distance is part of my process. If you happen to step into my line of sight, that’s on you,” you said.

“That right?” He asked and you could hear the humor in his deep voice.

“Uh-huh,” you said. You typed a few more notes, taking in tiny details about Terry. The slope of his shoulders. The curve of his brow. His high cheekbones. Your male character came together more quickly in your mind now that you had a model to work off of.

The cabinet squeaked, breaking you of your thoughts. “It’s singing the song of your people, you know,” Terry said.

You sucked your teeth and Terry chuckled. “Me and you are going to fight,” you said.

“I got a ladder if you want to use it,” he said.

You rolled your eyes and pinched your lips together. He was really going to make you scream. “Are you always this annoying?” You asked.

“I can be worse,” he said.

You stared off into an invisible camera. You could hear the laugh track now. You shook your head and decided to ignore his shenanigans. You fell into a comfortable silence somehow, typing away as more and more ideas came to you. It was no longer weird that there was a strange man in the cabin. Despite being so big, he had an uncanny ability to take up as little space as possible.

“What are you working on? You a writer or somethin’?” He asked.

“Yeah, what gave me away?” You asked.

“The laptop,” he said.

You sucked your teeth and hid your smile behind your hands, pretending like you were suffering the sting of a thousand cuts. Terry chuckled. “I know you want to laugh,” he said.

“Do not,” you said and moved your hands, settling on a smile. That was all his fine ass deserved.

“You write anything I may have read?” He asked. The hinge on the cabinet knocked against the wood as Terry pried it off with the screwdriver. His hands really were huge and you briefly wondered what it’d feel like wrapped around your ass.

You pressed your thighs together and adjusted yourself on the couch. This man was proving dangerous afterall. One meeting with him and you were picturing disgusting scenarios to write.

“Umm, no, my books wouldn’t be your speed,” you said.

“I like nature though. I’m sure a chipmunk survival guide would be right up my alley,” he said.

“The door is right there,” you said, chuckling. He truly got on your damn nerves. But you wanted to hear more. His voice was smooth and deep, a weakness for sure. Your voice kink was in hyperdrive, teasing out every way he sounded out words and syllables to be replayed later in your mind.

“C’mon, what do you write?” He asked. He glanced at you briefly before returning to replacing the hinge. He dropped to his knees as he worked, putting him in a position to arch his back.

Mm, mm, mm. You eye-fucked him as he leaned forward, holding the hinge in place while he screwed in the first screw. He leaned back to dig into the tool box by his feet and you looked away, heat flashing over your skin.

You did not know this man. You did not know this man. You did not –

“Not gon’ tell me?” He asked.

“What happened to not knowing you were even there?” You asked. He was worse than your folks at home. If you wanted to be harassed, you would have saved yourself the money.

“You’re the one staring,” he said.

You took a deep breath to keep from cussing. Maybe it was his face. Maybe he was too pretty to yell at. Or maybe he was so pretty it spurned you to want to hit him. Because as much as you wanted to smack him, you wanted to smack his ass even more.

Sweet fuck you needed to get laid. Maybe you’d redownload that dating app your friends made you download after your last book. You deleted it because apparently, guys took offense when all you wanted was sex from them.

“I write books,” you said, chickening out at the last minute. It wasn’t exactly easy to tell people that you wrote explicit shifter romances. Urban fantasy settings let you have the best of both worlds. Modern technology combined with fantasy and magic, blended together, and created something that scratched all of your itches.

“What kind of books?” He asked.

“Paperbacks,” you said.

Terry chuckled and shook his head. “If you don’t say, I’m going to start guessing,” he said.

You groaned and Terry chuckled at your theatrics. You held up your hand. “Please, spare me. If you must know, I write romance novels,” you said.

“Romance novels…like the ones where the guys have a forty inch dick, eight feet tall, and long flowing red hair?” Terry asked.

You howled with mirth as that image was now seared into your brain. “Ew, yuck! Why! Why would you make me picture that?” You asked when you had enough air in your lungs to breathe.

“I’m just shooting the shit. That’s wassup though,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said slowly, full suspicion. Terry chuckled but didn’t say anything further as he continued working on the cabinets.

You went back to your brainstorming, filling in details about your female main character. You searched for her fatal flaw, the lie she told herself in order to survive before the meet cute with the main male character.

You sighed. You ought to give them names. But you were not prepared to deal with the ads on Nameberry or clicking endlessly on name generators. But you couldn’t very well keep calling them ‘female main character’ and ‘male main character’.

You brought up Nameberry first in the hopes that you’d find something quicker using the alphabet lists. A Q name would be cute. Qianna? Ugh, there weren’t many cute Q names.

“I didn’t know writing could be so hard core,” Terry said.

You looked at him over the top of your laptop with a scowl. “Are you almost done? You’re stinking up the place,” you said.

Terry chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll finish out the cabinets and come by tomorrow for the shower and air filters,” he said.

“What’s wrong with the shower?” You asked. The way he said it…he could make even the most innocent words sound naughty. Because now, you were thinking of the shower. And him in the shower. And all those suds dripping down his naked body…

“Water bill is going up. So Mr. Omar wants me to check for a leak,” he said.

You hadn’t noticed anything but you weren’t a professional handyman either. “How’d you come to be here, Terry?” You asked.

Terry slanted his eyes towards you. “Curious about me?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes. “I could go back to ignoring you,” you said.

“I’d believe that if you weren’t staring so much.”

You took a deep breath and Terry waved you off. “I’ll stop. I got into some deep shit a year back. I wanted to take my mind off it by being as busy as possible. Working with my hands relaxes my mind,” he said.

You nodded. You could respect that. “You live around here?”

“Mr. Omar has another spot up the ways. I work on his properties and I get to stay for free,” he responded.

You sighed wistfully. The things you would do to be able to have an arrangement like that. Only without the handyman part, because fuuuuuck that. “Your family doesn’t miss you?” You asked.

Terry took a measured breath and paused briefly inworking. He then screwed in the final screw and tested the cabinet door, no squeak to be found. “Naw. Not really,” he said quietly.

Duly noted. Shutting up. This was why you weren’t that social. You had a particular knack for picking up on shit people didn’t want to discuss. You hid behind your laptop screen, hunting for more names for your main characters.

Gabrielle was always a cute girl name to you. Now for the perfect boy name…Rashad…Theo…Wesley? Wesley and Gabrielle? That sounded kind of cute together. You put it on the list of maybes and continued hunting for different pairs just in case. Though each one you found didn’t spark as much interest as Wesley and Gabrielle.

“I’m done for the day. In case you had a change of heart,” Terry said.

“Nice try. I didn’t get any work done because of you,” you said.

Terry smirked, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Then my job’s really done,” he said.

You groaned playfully and put your laptop down on the coffee table. You had pants on now but you still felt exposed. Like you were still standing there half-naked. Terry’s eyes tracked down your body as if he recalled your bare legs as well.

You weren’t stupid. You knew he had a passing interest. But what man wouldn’t after living up in the mountains of North Carolina? You doubted he was starving for female attention and you had a book to finish, come hell or high water. Pretty distractions like him did you no justice.

You’d just have to pull out ole reliable, Laz Alonso. Thinking of that man already had you hot and bothered and the vibrator you brought with you would have to be more than sufficient to get you through the winter.

You approached Terry cautiously as he packed away his tools. You openly stared at his backside as he closed the tool box and stood up to his full height. He was so damn tall. Guys like him just didn’t exist in real life. It wasn’t fair.

Terry walked to the front door ahead of you. You kept some distance, not wanting to give him a chance to get too close. Your alarms were still on high alert though he did a good job of putting you at ease.

As he crossed the threshold, your stomach rumbled. Loudly. In all the excitement and hubbub, you forgot to grab food. Terry turned to the sound, stopping a few feet from the front door.

“There’s a bar down the mountain if you ever want to get out the house,” he said.

You pinched your lips. “That doesn’t sound too bad. But maybe not today,” you said and leaned against the door jam. The cold air blew into the warm house, instantly raising goosebumps on your arms.

Terry nodded. “You change your mind, let me know,” he said. “And if you notice anything that needs fixing, definitely let me know.”

You smiled. The thoughts he conjured…”Thanks, I truly appreciate it. But how would I let you know?”

Terry chuckled. He nodded towards the kitchen. “I left my number on the fridge. Need anything, just call.”

You glanced back towards the fridge and saw a few sticky notes on it. You turned to him and nodded. “I’m glad you turned out to not be a creep.”

Terry nodded. “I’m glad you take your safety seriously. Most people don’t. Lock up after me,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” you said, deepening your voice.

Terry huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Can’t hide that voice, sorry,” he said.

“Shut up! And get home safely, Terry,” you said.

Terry took the steps down fast and then spun around to walk backwards. “Worried about me, chipmunk?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I’d rather not explain to Mr. Omar why his handyman couldn’t finish around the house,” you called out to him, raising your voice the further away he walked.

He waved to you, making it to his truck parked a ways in front of the front door. It was a big blue truck with a larger bed than most you’ve seen. It suited him though. And his rugged appearance. He didn’t strike you as the type to drive a luxury SUV and complain about his shoes getting soaked through from the snow.

You went back into the warm house, shut the door, and locked it behind you. You tapped on it once, turning away with a smile. Now…down to real business.

True to his word, Terry came over nearly every day for the next two weeks fixing things around the house. He managed to find a way to annoy the ever loving hell out of you, but he also made you laugh so hard, you nearly snorted tea out of your nose.

You found inspiration with the little things he did or said. Until “Wesley”, your male main character, started to move and sound like Terry in your mind. You would feel bad, except there was no chance in hell Terry would ever read this book. Ever.

The beginning came together smoothly in your mind. Wesley, the too-serious wolf shifter investigator, was married to his work, only going home long enough to eat, shower, and sleep. Gabrielle, the famous tech genius by day, was also a major thief by night. And as a surprise to no one, Wesley didn’t know he was investigating Gabrielle’s latest crime, the theft of a magic orb from a private collection.

Now…where could they bump into each other… a blind date sounded interesting to you but nothing too easy. Nothing too cliche. Hmm…grocery store? She stumbles upon him after shift? Maybe it’s a full moon and he protects her?

You groaned and backspaced. You were thinking too hard on this one. This one wasn’t coming together in your mind. You looked back over your character descriptions; maybe there was something there to spark interest.

Heavy boots stomped down the hallway from the bedroom as Terry had taken a look at the closet door. So many broken hinges. What were people renting this house for? Parties where they pretended to be animals, swinging from the ceiling?

You snorted at your own joke just as Terry entered the living room. You looked at him and stopped laughing but Terry raised an eyebrow. “Don’t stop on my account,” he said.

He chose a dark gray hoodie this time, the same cream colored beanie, and dark jeans. His toolbox was held loosely in his big hands, and your body flushed with heat. Lost in the brainstorming fog, you hadn’t had a chance to play with Laz and your body reminded you of that. Painfully.

“All done in the bedroom?” You asked.

Terry eyed you and you blinked innocently at him. Even as his eyes made your pussy flutter. Down girl, down girl, DOWN girl…

“Done. Unless you found something I need to fix?” He asked.

You squinted at him but for once, his face was unreadable. You couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a double entendre or not. Maybe you were just a horny mess. You’d have to look at your period tracker to see if you were ovulating. Because at the moment, you were one step away from asking that man to fix your dripping pussy.

“No, no, no, no. All good,” you muttered. If you couldn’t get some, then at least you could write the filthiest things for Wesley and Gabrielle. As soon as you figured out how they meet.

Terry moved into the kitchen, setting his toolbox down. “I’ll check the windows. There’s a storm moving up here in a week or so. You good on firewood?” He asked.

“I can’t just use the heater?” You asked.

“What if the power goes out?” He asked.

“That really happens? Or are you trying to scare me?” You asked. Well damn. You didn’t have the power going out on your list of tragedies that could happen while you were out here. You knew it could happen but it was rare that you experienced it. One of the pitfalls of staying in someone else’s place. You didn’t have all of your emergency kits.

There was one in your rental car but that was inadequate as hell. You sighed. Fuck. You were going to have to venture into town anyway. You glanced at your laptop. You had the major story beats fleshed out, but filling in the rest was giving you a headache behind your eye.

Still, you itched to keep going after it with a hammer. You wanted to keep pushing yourself and see if you couldn’t solve your problem. It was like you just weren’t feeling this one for some reason, despite being overjoyed at the sexy idea.

“Not trying to scare you,” he promised.

You pouted. “I haven’t tried lighting a fire yet. So I don’t know about the firewood,” you said, feeling like you were five years old for not checking something so crucial. But! You would give yourself grace. You didn’t know before but now you’d make it a point to check everything before venturing off to la la land in your head.

Terry nodded. “I’ll check then,” he said.

“Thank you. Really,” you said.

“My pleasure, chipmunk,” he said with a chuckle.

“You get on my damn nerves!” You yelled after him as he left the house with a booming chuckle. You shook your head as you waited for him to return.

Though this was meant to be a retreat for you, to explore on your own without the watchful eye of your family, you kind of liked having Terry around. He managed to pull you from your spiraling about your writing in the nick of time. You were able to return to your novel with a second wave of inspiration.

But this meet cute was kicking your Black ass. Like this should have been the easiest part. But it was often the easiest parts that tripped you up the most.

Terry reentered the house, kicking his shoes on the mat before stepping inside. The door banged shut behind him, a strong wind passing over you before dispersing in the warm house.

“Firewood’s low. After it thaws a bit, I’ll chop more,” he said.

Mmm, Terry…chopping wood…mm, mm, mm. You had to go on a date with Laz tonight. Maybe a little post nut clarity would work in your favor.

“Thanks. Is there anything I can get you from the store? I’ll need to head down the mountain after all,” you said.

“Road may be slippery right now. You’d be better off going tomorrow,” he said. He pulled his toolbox closer and flipped it open.

You placed your laptop on the coffee table in front of you and then stood up, letting your inside throw blanket slip from your shoulders. You stretched, your limbs and back popping in some areas as you twisted one way and then another.

You crossed closer to him, going towards the kitchen for a cup of tea. If you were going to brave the outside world, you’d need a little help. As the kettle warmed up on the counter, you faced Terry and leaned against the edge.

How to put this without sounding batshit crazy? “It’s important for me to go today,” you said. “Preferably before the sun goes down.”

Terry scrunched up his face. “Is there a special vampire version of chipmunks I don’t know about?”

“You get on my nerves!” You said and giggled. Terry smirked with you as you giggled and you slowly quieted down. You cleared your throat. “No, it’s just important. I do take my safety seriously. Maybe more so than most.”

Terry eyed you with those beautiful eyes of his before nodding. “Alright, I’ll take you,” he said.

“Wait, what? No, no, no, that’s not what I meant. I can get down myself,” you said.

“No one said you couldn’t. But the roads really can get slippery if you don’t know where to look. The snow doesn’t stick to the ground like it used to and it can make driving those twisting roads more dangerous.”

You put your hands on your hips and stepped closer, nothing but the narrow corner of the kitchen island between you. “I don’t need a babysitter, Terry,” you said.

Terry held up his hands. “I’m not a babysitter. I’m a handyman,” he said.

You pinched your lips together to keep from smiling. He was truly going to make you put him through the wall.

“I wouldn’t feel right letting you go down the mountain by yourself. Not that you’re not capable. But because the roads really are that dangerous. And I’d rather not have to come dig your ass out of a ditch,” he said.

“Ouch,” you said, picturing just that scenario. The roads seemed like a twisty maze, full of sharp corners and narrow lanes. Driving up when the roads were clear in the morning hadn’t been that much of a hassle but you weren’t too sure about going back down. It was why you tried to bring as much stuff with you as you could, to avoid that exact circumstance.

“Go get dressed,” he said, his voice deep and commanding.

You prickled. “Don’t tell me what to do,” you said. Did he hear the breathiness in your voice? Because holy hell. That voice needed to boss you around more often.

Terry lifted his sleeve to look at his watch. “Daylight’s wasting,” he said.

You scowled. “I’m getting dressed because I decided to and because I concede that I don’t know these roads that well. Not because you told me to,” you said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, eyes dancing with mischief. Ugh. You bet he ran his mama ragged growing up.

The kettle clicked as it was done, the boiling water settling down. You poured a mug full and took it with you to the bedroom and sipped it while you got dressed.

You opted for a simple pair of jeans, boots, and your favorite purple hoodie. You didn’t know how Terry didn’t walk around with a jacket as well. Every bite of air you felt outside chilled you down to the bone.

Leaving your bedroom, Terry eyed you up and down before jerking his head for you to follow. You locked the door behind you and then followed Terry to his truck. Your combined footsteps crunched on the snow underfoot, leaving footprints that quickly disappeared in the gentle snowfall.

You looked up towards the sky, grinning at the overcast sky. Flurries floated down, landing on your cheeks, eyelashes, and lips. You licked away a snowflake that landed on you and looked towards Terry, smiling softly at you.

“You must think I’m silly,” you said.

“Not what I’m thinking,” he said. You stared but he didn’t say anything more. He just smirked and held open the passenger door for you. The truck was bigger up close and you had a hard time holding onto the door and climbing in.

“Here,” Terry said, gently sliding his hands around your waist. You looked over your shoulder at him. He was close enough to see how pretty and long his eyelashes were. It wasn’t fair that he was pretty down to the individual hairs on his lashes.

His big hands felt like heaven on your hips as he helped you lift into his truck. His hands slid from your waist and you missed the heat of it instantly. Terry cleared his throat and then closed the door.

You eyed him as he rounded the front of his truck, climbed in, and started the car. He turned the heater on full blast and before long, you were headed down the mountain. The type of road you were on was paved and everything, but every so often, you’d hit a patch of woods on the side of the road and there were guard rails to prevent you from toppling over.

Terry took the turns slowly, but expertly. Your eyes were drawn to his hands every time the steering wheel slipped through his fingers while he turned. He kept his nails trimmed and clean, causing you to bite your lip, thinking of him fingering you.

No, you stop that, you chastised yourself. He was not a piece of meat. But sweet fuck, the packaging was pretty.

“How’s the writing going?” Terry asked.

“Huh?” You asked. You heard him, you just needed more time to let your brain get off nasty mode. Though, who were you kidding? It stayed nasty.

Terry repeated his question. He took a long turn that caused you to lean against your seatbelt. It dug across your chest and you moved it to a more comfortable spot.

“Good. I think. I can never tell. But I’m still trying to figure out how the characters meet,” you said.

“It’s that important?” He asked.

You nodded, though he didn’t see because he was being a good driver. He kept his eyes faced forward, driving carefully down the road. Every so often, the woods would break and there would be someone’s property, full of horses or cows. You marveled at a large brown cow hanging out just because.

“The meet cute is one of the most important parts of the book. It sets the tone for the relationship,” you said.

“Yeah? How so?” He asked.

“Are you sure you want to hear about all this? You don’t have to be polite,” you said, giving him an easy out.

“I like listening to you,” he said.

Oh. You smiled, looking down at your hands in your lap. You launched into the nitty gritty of romance writing. The less glamorous side of it. It took you a long time to learn when to linger, when to skip ahead, and when to let the characters give into the chemistry. You weren’t always sure you pulled it off, but your sales were steady so you’d take it.

Terry listened the entire time, asking more and more questions to feed his curiosity. He still threw in teases about your voice, the subject matter, and your little smut buddies, your writing group that talked about sex all day long.

He pulled the truck into a plaza with a few different stores spread out. “You’re gonna tell me guys don’t talk about sex all day? Why’s it a problem when women do it?”

Terry pulled into an available parking spot and turned the car off. The chill from outside immediately crept in, forcing the warm air to evaporate. “Sure, but we don’t write it down or send porn to each other,” he said.

“We do not send porn!” You said. Liar, liar. You had sent a porn link to your group chat earlier to discuss the inspo for Wesley.

Terry gave you an incredulous look before getting out of the truck. Your heartbeat sped up as he walked around to your side. His hands would be on you again. You liked it. Perhaps too much, because when he opened the door, you jumped.

“You good?” He asked.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. Terry steadied you by the waist as you climbed out of his massive truck. When he set you on the ground, your hands lingered on his forearms. Realizing you were holding on, you hummed and stepped away with a smile.

You went shopping, picking up essentials for a quick emergency kit. Flashlight with extra batteries, bottled water, granola bars with a long shelf life, back up portable chargers for your phone, extra over the counter meds, first aid kit, whistle, Lysol wipes, hand sanitizer, paper soap, and matches.

Terry’s eyebrows rose with each new item you picked up, working off your memory of your home and work kits. So you liked to be prepared, so what. You were only mildly embarrassed as he walked with you down each aisle, adding in things you hadn’t thought of for snow weather. Extra thick socks, thermals, extra scarf and beanie. Just in case.

“Thank you, Terry, really,” you said as Terry helped put the items in the bed of his truck.

“You can thank me by swinging by the bar with me. I’m pretty hungry. You?” He asked.

You grinned. “Was this your plan all along?” You asked.

“Maybe,” he said and smirked. Ugh. He was too fucking pretty. It made you sick really. Sick with fucking lust. Maybe a drink was just what the doctor ordered.

“Fine. But you could have just asked, you know,” you said.

“I know.” After he helped you in the car, he made the short trip to the bar he told you about.

The parking lot was large but mostly empty. It was nearing the evening and the temperature dropped bit by bit, your breath escaping in clouds. Terry escorted you up the long wooden stairs towards the earthy bar.

Inside, the place was bigger than you expected with two distinct sections. On the right, there were dining tables set up for bigger groups. Some of those tables were filled up and there were TVs stationed around turned to various games.

Terry said hello to the staff as he escorted you to the left, where the main bar was set up. The tables on this side sat higher off the ground and it had bar stools pushed close to the table. There was a door that led out onto a patio for outside dining but no one sat outside at the moment.

Terry pulled out a bar stool for you and helped you climb on. He effortlessly sat, his long legs having no trouble touching the ground. Bastard.

The bartender, introduced as Adam, came around to take your drink orders. “I am a cider girlie. What’s good?” You asked Adam.

Adam stroked his silky salt and pepper beard and looked behind him. “We got a few things. How you feel about blueberry?”

“Blueberry cider?” You asked.

Adam grinned. “If you don’t like it, it’s on the house,” he said. Adam leaned forward on the bar top and you smiled back. Oh, he was adorable.

Terry cleared his throat. “How’s Melissa?” Terry asked, bringing a beer to his lips and sipping.

Adam’s smile didn’t waver. “She left me. I’m all alone in my modest, but spacious house,” Adam said, never taking his eyes from you.

You giggled and waved him off. “Oh stop!” You said.

“With a beautiful woman like you, how can I?” Adam asked.

Terry made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a growl. You side eyed him as he shared a glance with Adam. Adam knocked on the bar top with a grin and then moved away to grab you a blueberry cider. He popped the top for you and waited for you to take a sip.

It was…actually delicious. You nodded. “Okay, not bad, Adam,” you said.

Adam’s permanent grin spread wider. “I aim to please,” he said.

You hid your giggle behind your hand and shook your head. “Did Melissa really leave you?” You asked.

Adam groaned and looked at Terry. “Thanks, T. Yes, she really did. But only to visit her parents. I still needed to work,” Adam said.

“Aw, why’d you get stuck with holiday duty? You piss off the boss?”

“He is the boss,” Terry grumbled.

You smiled at him. These two. “I bet ya’ll get into so much trouble together,” you said.

“Too much. And it was always Terry’s idea,” Adam said.

“Fuck outta here,” Terry said and chuckled. Adam launched into a story about growing up with Terry, running around like the latch key kids they were. Adam had dared Terry to jump off a rock formation near a creek which got both their asses handed to them by Terry’s mama.

You laughed through the story, Adam an amazing storyteller. Terry filled in details grudgingly, pulled from him the more Adam kept going.

Your food arrived in the middle of Adam speaking. You ordered tiger sauce wings and the chicken was huge. It came with fries and you immediately dug in, your hunger taking over something vicious.

Adam finally left you two alone as Adam had to tend to more and more people as the night dragged on.

“Your friend is funny,” you said.

Terry grunted. “But he doesn’t get on your nerves?” He asked.

“Nope. Guess you bring it out of me,” you said.

Terry rolled his eyes but dug into his own steak and potatoes. You both lobbed questions back and forth, learning more about each other now than over the two weeks he fixed minor things around the rental.

You downed cider after cider, getting lost in the way Terry told stories. He had a slower approach than Adam, but he was no less engaging. With that voice of his, he set the scene perfectly as a narrator.

The cider warmed you from the inside out, making your face flush with heat. But it was Terry’s voice that had something else flushing as well. Your pussy fluttered every time he licked the corner of his mouth while he spoke.

It ached every time you spoke and his focus was completely on you. He didn’t blink away, he didn’t look down, he didn’t interrupt. It only highlighted how much you craved that. Your family and friends only had so much patience for you before they were off, dominating the conversation in ways you couldn’t actively participate in. It felt more like they just wanted someone to talk at, not with.

Not the case with Terry. He included you in the conversation, stretching it, and flowed effortlessly from one topic to the next. There was rarely a lull in your conversation and your heads dipped closer and closer together the more you spoke.

The crisp apple and blueberry taste coated your tongue but also loosened your lips. “I see it all so clearly in my head, but then I get too much in my head, and it all comes crashing down. I can’t connect with this one for some reason,” you said.

Terry had asked you more about novel writing, the concept completely foreign to him. He confessed that he didn’t think that much effort went into it. Maybe not for others. But for you, it felt like you agonized over every single word. Were you true to the characters? Did anything make sense? Would it hit for others like it hit for you?

“Why’s it not connecting for you?” Terry sipped his second beer, as sober as a judge. While you felt too relaxed.

You sighed and looked away from him, peeling the label off of the bottle with your nail. “No offense, but men. I usually have a man to play with while writing to keep the inspiration going but sex-only arrangements only work if the guy initiates it. If I tell them I don’t want anything more, that’s when they get in their feelings,” you said with a shiver.

Terry’s grin spread slowly across his lips, revealing a neat row of teeth. Oh, my. He was damn delicious. “So you treat them like a ho and they get mad?”

“Yes!” You tapped his shoulder. Finally, a man who got you. “Like ugh, I know what I want and it’s not these dudes I find. I won’t settle for anything less than what I write about on the daily. So no, I don’t want to date, a girl just wants to get fucked, you know? No talking, no giggling, just work me over like a screen door in a hurricane and then get the fuck out,” you said. You nodded your head to emphasize your point.

You sighed deeply and smiled at Terry, your eyes drooping. You were a little tipsy. Terry lifted an eyebrow and then your words echoed in your mind. Your jaw dropped. Oh god. You were mortified.

“I-I am so sorry. That was so rude,” you said.

Terry lifted his fingers in a small wave. “Naw, you’re good,” he said.

“No, wow. That was inappropriate. I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry. We should go, please,” you said.

Terry turned towards you on the bar stool. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one that asked, chipmunk,” he said.

Your cheeks were still on fire. It was one thing to talk like this with your girlfriends or your sister, or even your writing group. That was normal. But you talked with Terry as if you’d known him forever. It took you one business year to make friends, putting them through the gauntlet to see if they’d actually stick around. More than that to let your freak flag fly.

“If you truly want to go, we will. But I promise, we’re cool. You don’t have to censor yourself around me,” he said.

And somehow, that permission made your shoulders droop from around your ears. You nodded, taking a sip of water. You didn’t have to apologize for being true to yourself. And it was like you crossed some invisible social boundary with Terry. Conversation flowed more smoothly, your heads dipped closer together, and your shoulders brushed against each other.

“So what are you looking for then? If not these dudes you meet,” he said.

You spent the rest of the night diving into past dating history and what you looked for in a partner. Terry shared what he liked as well. Someone that laughed at his world-stopping jokes, someone kind, and someone goofy.

Instantly, you compared yourself to the small list of women he’d been with. The traits he looked for. Did you fit the bill? Were you someone he could shove through the mattress?

It seemed wild to think about that even though you already swore him off. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested. You were too interested. Too aware. Too conscious of him. Of the way he moved, talked, or laughed. You anticipated what would make him smile, what would make him groan, or what would make him roll his eyes.

He was hands down the only man that could make you lose your marbles and you hadn’t even taken him to bed. The thought filled you with so much dread and fear, that you had to push him away to stay sane. You had to keep him firmly on the other side of the brain before your inner romantic started planning your wedding in your mind.

You could easily fall for Terry Richmond. And you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to survive if he couldn’t. Not in the way you wanted. Not in the way you craved. Not in the way you wrote about, book after book, story after story, chasing a phantom man in your mind that loved you in the way you hungered for.

Adam called last call and gave Terry the sober vibe check. Which consisted of Terry holding his middle finger to nose while standing on one leg for a minute. You laughed at the sight, instantly taking a picture because there was no chance in hell you wanted to forget the look on his face.

He flipped you the bird while he settled with Adam and then escorted you outside. The wind was bitter, biting through your jacket and hoodie. Terry stepped closer to you, taking the brunt of it as the wind came from his direction.

You joked on the way to his truck, nudging him every so often as you walked. The liquor loosened you both up, navigating the newfound familiarity together. Whether it was by intention or by accident, the touches were not unwelcome.

At his car, you leaned against the truck. You nudged your chin towards the bar. “It’s a great place. I see why you wanted to show it to me,” you said.

He leaned a hand against the car, blocking most of the wind. But it had the added benefit of bringing him warmth closer. He smelled delicious like the outside air he belonged to. Like pine needles and cinnamon.

“Figured you might. Did it help with your book?” He asked.

You gasped. “Was that the goal?” You asked.

He shrugged. “A little. I figured you were too in your head,” he said.

“You think you know me, Terry Richmond,” you said and tapped his chest. He rocked back on his heels as if it actually hurt him and you rolled your eyes.

“No. But I’m learning to,” he said.

You giggled nervously as you blinked up at him. Light from the signs on the bar barely reached, but it highlighted him from behind. Light cut across his jaw and cheek and made his lashes glow at the tip.

Terry stepped closer, giving you all the room to step away or block him. But that was the last thing your body wanted. You stayed put, sliding your hands against his broad chest. Your fingers curled around the fabric and he sighed.

He brought his face closer to yours and inhaled. You hummed just as his lips pressed against yours. There was nothing hurried about it. Nothing filthy or salacious. But it warmed you from the tip of your toes to the top of your head.

Terry drew back and looked you in the eyes. You didn’t need to say anything. Didn’t need to share anything. You supposed kissing him was inevitable. Fated.

Terry tucked you into his truck and his hands lingered, reluctantly letting you go only because you were seated and there was nothing to help with anymore. You smiled at him and he finally closed the door. It gave you enough time to let loose the breath you held as he walked around.

He drove carefully back up the mountain. Snow had stuck to the road in some areas, so Terry went extra slow to be careful. If it weren’t for his huge lights, you wouldn’t be able to see a got damn thing.

It was pitch black outside, as if the world had disappeared during your ascent. As soon as the headlights passed on to something else, the darkness encroached and gobbled it back up. It was trippy. Yet strangely called to your inner emo.

The ride was mostly silent, soft music playing on the radio too low for you to pick up words. Terry found your rental without a hitch and came around to let you out of his truck. He walked with you to the front door and hovered outside of it while you stepped in.

You put your head on the door, swinging back and forth. In a minute, Terry would have to fix that one too. You giggled at your joke and Terry smirked.

“What’s so funny, chipmunk?” He asked.

You told him and Terry groaned and shook his head. “That was a terrible joke,” he said.

“What! No it wasn’t!” You squeaked with your outrage, sputtering for the right words to defend yourself. You could call your jokes bad, he couldn’t. You didn’t know why just yet, but he couldn’t.

“Was to,” he said and stepped closer. Terry’s eyes drooped as he leaned his shoulder against the door frame. He took up the majority of it, so large and imposing. Yet his energy was nothing but peaceful and quiet, setting you at ease in a way only a thorough cleaning could achieve.

“Was not,” you said, holding your ground. You wanted to invite him in. Wanted to go ahead and explore what he started.

Terry sighed and dug his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Goodnight, chipmunk,” he said.

Oh. You matched his sigh and rolled your eyes. “Good night, Terry,” you said. You’d have to think of a good nickname for him. Like Big Bird…Clifford…whenever it came to you, you were gonna hit him with it.

Terry stepped back and waited while you closed and locked the door. You heard his boots travel down the steps and into his awaiting truck.

You leaned your back against the cold door and sighed once more. If you were a chipmunk, then the only tree you wanted to climb was him.

“Girl,” you said, drawing the word out.

“Girl, what?” Your best friend, Whitley, asked.

“This motherfucker out here chopping wood on Christmas Eve,” you said. Terry stopped by a week later, finally coming around to chop more wood for the fireplace. You had forgotten all about it, feeling better now that you had an upgraded emergency kit.

But then Terry took off his hoodie, revealing a silver blue T-shirt that really brought out the blue in his eyes. He blamed the storm, criticizing you for not paying more attention to the weather channel.

Um, and miss bingeing Alex Cross for the umpteenth time? Yeah, no thanks. You called him an old man while he grinned and went outside, round to the side. There was a tree stump there and a small pile of chopped firewood.

Terry took the larger, whole pieces and went to work. Some he cracked in one go, his powerful muscles bunching and contracting with the effort. The axe was decisive, snapping and echoing in the surrounding woods.

Terry used the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow and you got a front row seat to his abs.

You moaned into the phone and Whitley grunted. “Girl, uh uh. Put me on video or something. You can’t be moaning like that and I don’t get to see too.”

Fair, she was right. You hurried and put her on video, tilting the phone to look at him through the window. Though he faced forward, he rarely looked up while he worked on the firewood as if it stole something from him.

You bit your lip, needing that same focus while he fucked you stupid. You wanted to be fucked so hard that you forgot your ABCs.

“Oh damn,” Whitley said, moaning with you.

Lord, he was fine. This so wasn’t fair. Not even in the slightest. “And you ain’t rode that big dawg yet?” Whitley asked.

“Girl, no. Look at him. He would snap my ass in half and then eat my heart on his way out,” you said.

Terry took a break, lodging the axe in the tree stump. He wiped his forehead with his shirt once more and you and Whitley sighed in appreciation. Wisps of his breath clouded in the air, sunlight shining brightly on Terry.

“I say this with all the love in my heart. You stupid ho, go ride that man!” Whitley yelled into the phone. Since she was on speaker, you ducked in case Terry looked towards you. He didn’t need to see you being a creeper.

When you deemed it safe, you slowly stood back up. Terry stretched his thick biceps, causing his shirt to ride up. His belly peeked from underneath, giving you a glimpse of his belly button. You felt no better than an 18th century man but your core was in full agreement. Your clit throbbed, painfully. His tattoos poked out from beneath his short sleeves and you wondered what the story was behind each one.

“Now what if he looked over here? Now we both looking stupid ‘cause you don’t know how to shut up,” you said.

Whitley giggled and sighed. Terry picked up the axe and continued chopping. He leaned forward, grabbing a whole piece, and then placed it on the stump. He hefted the axe above his head and let it fall with force behind it, splitting it in two.

“Got damn. Maybe I need to visit you up there, friend,” Whitley teased.

“Um, no,” you said.

Whitley giggled. “Then if that’s your man, go get him!”

You grumbled to her, listing off reasons why you absolutely shouldn’t. But night after night, little Laz Alonso wasn’t cutting it. Ever since the bar, ever since the kiss, you hadn’t been able to keep him from your mind.

It was his face that you stroked yourself too. His voice that you moaned to. His eyes that set you off but it was empty. Sure it felt good, but you needed more. You needed the heft of a man on top of you, splitting you open, talking nasty in ya ear.

Spicy audios and a vibrator just didn’t have the same effect. Not when you wanted some body heat. When you wanted the rough scratch of a beard on your skin. Fingers buried to the knuckle.

“What am I gonna do when he get me addicted to that monster in his pants and I can’t have no more? You really want me out here like a crackhead, begging for dick? You wanna come bail me out of jail because I was banging on his door at 3am?” You asked.

Whitley howled with laughter as you kept going, describing all the ways Terry would have you acting out of character. And you wouldn’t feel a lick of shame about it. You’d stand outside buck ass nekkid in the cold, brutal winter if it meant you’d get to hop on it again.

“Stop, my stomach hurt! Stop it!” Whitley yelled in between pulls of air.

You finally giggled with her, eyes still on Terry. The pile of wood next to him grew more and more and you wondered how long he expected this storm to last? Or if he had that little faith in the central heating.

Terry glanced towards the house and you ducked, heart in your throat. “I think he saw me,” you whispered.

Whitley giggled and shook her head. “How you gonna explain that one?” She asked.

“I’ll tell if you if works,” you said. You hung up with her and then grabbed two bottles of water from the pantry.

You threw on your hoodie and jacket, leaving the house. You slid-walked towards the side of the house, the snow giving way and making you earn it. You huffed as you made it around the side.

Terry stopped chopping and watched you struggle. He lodged the axe into the stump and then placed his hands on his narrow hips. The silver blue T-shirt clung to his body with sweat. If he were to wring it out, you’d bet it’d fill a bucket.

When you got closer, Terry lifted an eyebrow. “You know chipmunks s’posed to hibernate in the winter,” he said.

“Oh shut up,” you said, shaking your head. “I saw you struggling so I decided to come give you the break you needed.”

You handed him the bottle of water and then unscrewed your own. “Saw me struggling, huh,” he said, his voice deeper than normal. Or were you imagining it? Fuck. You were losing touch with reality now.

His eyes slanted towards you as he tilted his head back and gulped down the bottle of water. He didn’t stop for a breath. He kept going, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the action. His bicep could probably crush steel. Veins ran down the length of his arm and saliva pooled in your mouth.

“That’s a lot of firewood,” you said, your voice unnaturally rough. You cleared your throat and drank your own water.

You finally figured out how Wesley and Gabrielle meet so the rest of Act 1 flew from your fingers. You made it to the part where they have sex for the first time and Gabrielle would discover that Wesley was an investigator.

You’d had sex on the brain all day. A little obsessively so considering it was Christmas Eve. So Terry being out here, looking like that and chopping wood like that... It was like a cosmic nudge in the pants to ride him ‘till the cows came home. Your resolve weakened the more you spent in his presence. This was why you needed to stop listening to Whitley’s ass.

“Want to make sure you’re prepared,” he said, his accent seeping through his words.

You drank more of your water, shivering as a brutal wind kicked up. “Oh, that’s cold,” you said. Was that the universe telling you to take your ass in the house? Surely, it would be on your side, telling you to keep your eye on the prize and not fuck the incredibly hot handyman.

The wind blew again, the cold light of the sun disappearing all together. You looked upwards. Clouds rolled across the sky as the temperature dropped ten degrees. “Fuck,” you shivered, rubbing your arms.

Terry scowled. “The storm’s early. Go get inside,” he said.

Overhead, trees swayed violently with the gathering wind. “What about the firewood?” You asked.

“I got it,” he said. He waved for you to go ahead of him but you didn’t want to just leave him to do all the work. He moved carefully, heading to the side of the house and grabbed a blue tarp. He jogged to the stump and loaded the tarp with firewood. “Go get inside!”

“It’ll be faster if I help,” you called back over the wind.

You ran towards the stack, helping him load it with the firewood he chopped. He scowled but he couldn’t argue with you once you started. In no time, you had it loaded with as much firewood as he could move.

He pushed you towards the house, pulling on the tarp and dragged it across the snow. Snow flurries kicked up and swirled around you as you ran-slid towards the front door. Terry was hot on your heels, huffing, clouds of breath in front of him.

You held onto the railing as you jogged up the steps, already knowing Terry wouldn’t want you to help with the wood. He gathered up all four corners and lifted with his knees, carrying the tarp up the stairs like it was nothing.

You opened the door, the wind doing most of the work. The door banged against the wall and Terry stomped in after and dropped the firewood. “Close the door,” he said and went back outside.

“Wait!” You called after him. He kept walking so you did as he said, closing the door behind him. You had to push against the wind but you finally managed to close it. You looked outside of the window beside the door.

The snow blew around hard and fast, obscuring visibility minute by minute. You could barely make out Terry’s outline as he ran to his truck and opened the bed. He pulled out a bag and then closed the bed of the truck, locking it behind him. He jogged towards the front door, holding his bare arm up as he did so.

A second later, he opened the door, entered, and then closed it behind him. He shook himself out, flinging snow across the entrance. “I’ll clean that up,” he said. Water clung to his scruffy beard and plastered his shirt to his body. His nipples poked out and you dragged your eyes away.

“You need to get in the shower, now,” you said.

“What?” Terry asked and his eyes went wide.

“The last thing you want to do is get sick. Go warm your body up in the shower. I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer,” you said. Your words sunk in a second later and then you giggled. “I mean, leave your clothes outside the door, obviously.”

Terry smirked, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” he said. He nodded towards the fireplace. “You know how to start that? We should conserve power tonight, just in case.”

“I agree. But no, still haven’t learned how to start it. You go get in the shower, the heater will be fine for now,” you said.

Terry looked like he wanted to argue, pinching his lips together. But then he shook his head and took off towards the bathroom. He peeled off his shirt as he went and you bit your lip.

Sweet fuck, that was not what you meant! Got damn. Your eyes widened as you looked at the dip in his back. The expanse of shoulders. The tattoo on the back of his right arm. Sweet fuck, almighty.

Terry looked back at you as he went into the bathroom. He ducked to enter and then shut the door behind him. He caught you staring. He so, so caught you staring. A beat later, he opened the door and tossed out his shirt, jeans, and socks. Not his underwear though. Bastard.

You put the items in the dryer and let it run for a cycle. You closed the closet doors on the other side of the kitchen and then started up a kettle. Your fingers tapped on the countertop waiting for the water to finish.

All the while, the shower was loud through the walls. On the other side of it, Terry was showering. He was naked. He was running soap all over that massive, long body. Your panties grew so damp, you wondered if you had enough time to dry them before he got out of the shower.

You needed all the strength you could muster. Because right now, you couldn’t remember a single fucking reason why you couldn’t hop on Terry’s dick. Really, what was the price of heartbreak? A wild ride in the sack? It just may be worth it for Terry Richmond.

The shower turned off just as the kettle clicked off beside you. You jumped and then closed your eyes. You were an adult. You could keep yourself in check.

You poured some tea for yourself but you weren’t sure what he drank. You didn’t like beer so you didn’t have any in the house. You weren’t expecting any visitors.

Wind blew against the window making you jump once more. You were too hyperaware. Too attune with every little noise or screech.

You retrieved his clothes from the dryer and then knocked on the door. Terry opened it a crack and you made sure to keep your eyes on his face. Nowhere south. “Clothes,” you said.

“Thanks,” he said. He opened the door wider and grabbed his clothes from you. His fingers grazed yours and you gasped. He was so soft and warm. Steam poured out the room, fanning across your face. He smelled like your soap and you bit back a moan.

“Yup,” you squeaked and then left him to it. Tea, tea, all you needed was some tea. Some sleepytime tea to do the trick. But you weren’t sure how you were going to sleep with a storm raging outside.

You hated to admit it but your winter getaway turned out to be anything but idyllic. And you had a teensy, smallish, not even worth mentioning fear of storms. It was the bigness of it. The fact that it made you feel so tiny, so insignificant, so aware of your mortality. That nature was the foremost authority and you lived and breathed by its good graces.

It was an annoying feeling to you as a writer. You created entire worlds at whim. Played with characters like dolls. But you held no such power in real life.

Terry left the bathroom, his footfalls softer now that he wasn’t wearing boots. Freshly dressed in his warm clothes, he looked younger without his beanie. He sported a mini, curled afro atop his head. It gave him a mountain man sort of look, like he would be at home out there in the woods.

“Thanks,” he said.

You nodded. “I wasn’t sure if you were into tea,” you said.

Terry waved you off. “Water is fine,” he said. He moved over towards the living room and opened the tarp on the floor. He knelt on one leg as he worked on stoking a fire to life. The flames gathered traction, flicking orange and yellow light across his features.

You rolled the bag of tea around a spoon to squeeze excess water out. Then you doctored it how you liked, adding in cold water. You grabbed a bottle of water and headed to the living room as Terry finished with the fireplace.

Terry accepted the bottle, drinking down half of it while he turned off the main heater and sat on the other side of the couch.

“Looks like we’re having a sleepover. Did you plan this too?” You asked.

“If I were powerful enough to control the weather, I’d use it for more nefarious purposes,” Terry said.

“Like what?” You asked, your curiosity piqued.

Terry chuckled. “And give up my evil plan? Naw. I ain’t grow up on a chicken farm,” he said.

You laughed and shook your head. “What?” You asked, chuckling more.

Terry laughed with you. “Chicken Run?” He asked.

“Shut up, you ain’t seen that movie,” you said.

Terry scoffed. “Bet,” he said.

“What’s the young rooster’s name?” You asked.

“Rocky, try again,” he said.

You squinted at him as you thought of your next question. Something only a true fan would know. “Who was the first chicken to go through Mrs. Tweedy’s chicken pie machine?” You asked.

Terry sucked in a breath and widened his eyes. “Okay, tough. But it was Ginger,” he said.

You looked at him and raised your eyebrows, trying to cast doubt on his answer. He matched your stare, smirk on his lips, and didn’t fold.

“Okay, fine, you’re right,” you huffed.

Terry laughed and drank the rest of his bottled water. You fell into a comfortable silence, both lost in your thoughts. “I haven’t seen Chicken Run in a while,” Terry said.

“Me neither. We should see if it’s streaming,” you said. You turned on the TV and snuggled under your inside throw blanket. With the heat blowing across your legs, you felt warmer than the heater could ever achieve.

Before long, you were both laughing at the shenanigans of the claymation movie. You both tossed out quotes, going back and forth about things you noticed in the movie.

One movie turned to two, throwing on How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It was among your favorite Christmas movies and a perfect distraction against the raging storm outside. The wind knocked harshly against the window every so often, causing your eyes to dart to it and your heart rate to speed up. You hated being such a baby sometimes.

But, giving yourself grace, storms really could be scary. If it knocked the power out, it could also knock over trees into the house or onto someone’s car. Storms were devastating and of course you’d find them a bit scary.

Terry scooted closer. “You afraid of storms?” He asked. His voice was like butter melting over a freshly baked biscuit. You hummed and decided to be honest.

“There’s so many things that could happen in a storm,” you told him.

He nodded. “I got something to help with that,” he said.

You turned to him and hummed for him to respond. He scooted closer on the couch, close enough for your shoulder to lean on his. You giggled at his solution. “Stop hugging the throw too,” he murmured and you giggled.

“This helps storms, huh?”

Terry nodded. “Hell yeah. Feel better?”

You pinched your lips together but went on and nodded. “It has its merits.”

As you worked on Wesley and Gabrielle’s relationship, you couldn’t help picturing how Terry would be in a relationship. Would he be the perfect boyfriend? Would he be as annoying as he usually was, always poking at you?

“Before we get comfortable, we should grab some drinks. I only have tequila or wine,” you said.

“I’ll take the tequila,” he said, making a face. You laughed and rolled your eyes at him. You got up and went to the kitchen, grabbing your favorite tequila and two shot glasses. You turned off the kitchen light on your way back, bathing the living room in darkness. The flames in the fireplace flickered across the wall, still pumping out delicious heat.

You poured a shot for each of you, clinked the glasses, and then drank. During the movie, you talked and joked, also quoting this movie back and forth. Terry’s laugh was so adorable and infectious. Was there anything on this man that didn’t scramble your brain?

He breathed and you were ready to drop your panties and beg for his dick. You were not above begging. But your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. You wanted it too badly but you wrestled with your brain. You shouldn’t but you oh so wanted to.

“Can I confess something?” Terry asked.

You turned your head to him. You had managed to curl into his side, soaking in the heat of his body. You felt every rise and fall of his chest. You licked your lips and Terry’s eyes drooped down.

“What is it, Terry?” You asked.

Terry licked his own lips and you couldn’t resist following the movement with your eyes. His lips were so big, so juicy.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our kiss,” he said. His voice was so soft, so velvety, that your shoulders dropped and you leaned in.

“Me neither,” you said. You shook your head. The kiss invaded all of your senses, leading to distraction even when Terry wasn’t there. All week, you caught yourself veering off to replay the kiss over and over again.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment you threatened me with a poker,” he said and smiled.

Your chest rose and fell in waves, processing what he was saying. “Don’t play with me, Terry Richmond,” you said. You just couldn’t stand it if he were.

“When you said what you said at the bar, I wondered what kind of man you’d take to bed. And then I started thinking that I wanted to be the only one in your bed,” he said.

Your mouth dropped open. It’s not that you didn’t know you were gorgeous. It’s not that you didn’t think you could pull someone like Terry. It was the fact that he said it so plainly. So openly. So clearly for your brain to not misinterpret his words. You didn’t have to guess with him. And that was one of the sexiest things ever.

You blinked a few times. “I–”

“And then I started hoping that you’d let me audition,” he said.

“Audition?” You asked. What the hell was he on about?

Terry grinned and then leaned closer, bringing his large hand to cup your face. His thumb stroked across your cheek. Your eyes slowly blinked closed, your skin tingling where he stroked. His warm breath fanned across your face, smelling faintly like tequila.

He rubbed his lips against yours but it wasn’t a full kiss. And that made you want it more. You wanted his lips on yours. You would simply die without it.

“Let me show off my skills. If I do well, you can use me as inspiration for your latest book,” he said.

You giggled, biting the inside of your cheek. “And what do you get out of the arrangement?” You asked.

“You,” he said.

You gasped, staring into his eyes. The low light made his features stand out more. It made his expressions more severe, more striking. You were at a loss for words. This man handed over everything you wanted on a silver platter.

You were so nervous to accept. You had been let down in so many ways by so many men. You had reached a point where you weren’t actively looking for a relationship. You didn’t need some raggedy boy in your phone.

But Terry was a man. A huge, perfect, wonderful man who got on your last fucking nerve. He always had something smart to say or some new quip to lob at you. But he was also thoughtful. Kind. Funny. Sexy as fucking sin.

“Are you sure? What if you don’t pass?” You asked.

“Then I’d like to keep trying until you tell me to leave,” he said. He licked your lips and you sighed, ending on a moan.

“Okay, what will you do for your audition?” You asked. The tequila traveled straight south, making your pussy throb. Your inner thighs tingled even as your breathing increased.

Terry smirked. He finally crashed his lips to yours, kissing you harshly, brutally. Like he had merely been caged before and you finally set him free. You brought your hands up to his neck, pulling him closer.

Your moans combined and danced as you leaned closer, pushed harder, kissed back just as fiercely as he did.

His hands moved underneath your shirt, hands wrapped around your sides, gripping onto your meaty flesh. You moaned, arching your back into him. Terry pulled you closer, made you straddle him.

An impressive bulge rubbed against your core and you moaned, closing your eyes. Fuck, you were overstimulated already and nothing even happened yet. You knew he had a monster in his pants. You just knew it.

You made out with Terry like a horny teenager, clashing teeth and biting at each other’s lips. You grinded in his lap, rubbing yourself against him. He groaned, hands lowering to cup your ass. He took two big scoops and squeezed hard, causing you to squeak.

“O-Oh fuck,” you moaned. The pain hurt so good. He kneaded your ass and you dropped your forehead to his shoulder. You moaned low, breathing harshly through your nose.

“You are so fucking beatiful,” he murmured against your temple.

“Terry, fuck, I’ve wanted you so bad,” you moaned.

“Why didn’t you say?” He asked.

You shook your head. You couldn’t speak. Didn’t want to speak. Your body moved on its own accord, rubbing against his hot erection.

Terry moved one of his hands to grip your chin and force you to look at him. “Why?” He demanded.

“You could break me. And that scares me,” you whispered.

“How do you think I feel?” He asked. “You could rip me apart.”

You crashed your lips to his, scratched at the nape of his neck. He returned his hand to your ass to squeeze, knead, and mold with his large hands. You moaned into his mouth, needing more friction.

Terry grabbed you by the waist and pulled you off of him. He made quick work of your jeans, pulled them down your legs, and off in one quick snap. You squealed with laughter, at the physicality of him, yet he still remained sweet and gentle.

Terry peeled your panties from your body and he groaned. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered, his voice one of awe. He slipped your panties off as well, biting your thighs as he pulled, and tossed it over his shoulder.

Your pussy throbbed looking at the way he stared at the heart of you. The smell of your arousal permeated the air and you moaned, smelling how turned on you were. He pushed at your thighs until they rested against your stomach.

He blew his breath across your pussy gently. “Oh, shit,” you twitched, hand reaching down to cling to his afro.

Terry groaned and blew once more, lowering his face until he was close enough to lick you from entrance to clit and back again. Your back bucked off of the couch, grinding into his face.

Terry moaned and wrapped his thick lips around your clit. He suckled sloppily, licking you like a dog with its favorite toy. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” you moaned, your stomach caving in and your eyes rolling back.

His tongue was the sweetest torture of pleasure against your pussy. His drool mixed with your essence, causing his sloppy eating to echo in the living room. “Fuck, that pussy good,” he sputtered against your sopping wet pussy.

“Oh fuck!” You screamed, your orgasm tearing through you too fast for you to comprehend. You flopped on the couch as your body shook and twisted with pleasure. Terry kept eating, slurping up the latest wave of essence on his tongue.

His beard grew more wet, sliding against your skin. It tickled and you wiggled, trying to move. Terry locked his arms around your thighs, shoving his face further into your pussy. His nose tickled the top of your mound and you groaned and moaned, loving the attention but unable to stand the tickling.

“Hmmmm,” he moaned, shaking his head. His tongue flicked across your clit without mercy, suckling on the swollen nub.

“Shit! Shit! Wait! Fuck!” You panted. You were out of breath, hardly able to make any sounds as Terry continued to eat you like a starving man to bread. Your stomach caved in once more, your lungs refusing to work any longer.

You pushed at his forehead but he kept going. Your eyes rolled backwards, your thighs clenched around his head as another orgasm tore through you, yanking your soul around like a ping pong ball.

Your pussy clenched and unclenched, wanting attention too. “Fuck me, fuck me,” you begged. You loved that he was a munch, Loved, loved it. But fuck you needed to be filled up. You needed to feel him deep in it.

“Not done yet,” Terry said. He came up for air, his face shiny with your juices. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, savoring it. When he opened it again, he narrowed his eyes. “Show me those pretty chocolate nipples.”

Your belly flipped painfully. Pussy throbbed. You lifted your shirt slowly, giving him a slight tease. Your overheated skin tingled with awareness as the cotton shifted across your body.

You revealed your titties and Terry groaned and rolled his hips into the bed. He winked at you. “Play with them while I eat,” he said. He returned to lapping at your pussy and your thighs squeezed around his face.

You were too sensitive. You jerked with every flick, every suck, and every glide of his lips. Your thighs shook with passion, tingled, and tensed. But you managed to pinch and roll your nipples, squeezing in time with his licks. “Please, please, Terry, fuck! I can’t!”

He pushed two fingers inside to pump in and out of your entrance. He wrapped his lips around your clit and used some kind of devil, voodoo magic to create a sucking vortex that had you seeing an entire galaxy behind your eyelids. Your mind flashed with dense clouds of pinks, violets, fiery oranges, and the softest greens.

You lost all ability to speak as another orgasm was wrung from you. You bowed forward, pushing his head into your clit as you came and came with howls and screams loud enough to wake the dead.

White and black spots danced in your vision as you suffered through aftershocks, ribbons of pleasure causing your nerves to go haywire. “Fuck, fuck,” you twitched.

You didn’t have the words nor the presence of mind to process what the hell just happened. You were spent. Put out. Dangle you on the clothesline to air out because you were out of it.

Terry came up for air with a growl, kissing your inner thighs, then your stomach, then climbed up your body to capture your lips with his own. He smeared your essence all over your face and you locked tongues with him eagerly.

You tasted too good on his tongue. Smelled too good on his lips. “Did I pass? I get the job?” Terry asked in between kissing you stupid.

You nodded and licked your lips, tasting more of yourself. “You got it, you got it,” you panted.

“I don’t have a condom, but–”

“I’m clean and on the pill,” you said. You kept up with that shit religiously, setting an alarm and everything. You were too chicken to try any other methods.

“I swear I’m clean,” he said, going back to kissing your lips. You moaned, and rubbed against his body.

“Fuck me,” you whined.

Terry chuckled. “Keep begging, chipmunk,” he groaned. He managed to continue kissing you while he ditched his jeans and underwear. His jeans dropped to the floor with a loud flop. His shirt went next, his muscles bunching as he lifted it off of him.

He removed your shirt as well, hands coming around to grab your titties. He pushed them together, lowering his mouth to suck on both nipples at the same time. You jerked and whined, grinding on the couch.

“Please, Terry, fuck me. Fuck me, I need it. I need your big dick to split me open,” you begged.

Terry groaned and moved his right hand between you. He rubbed his dick up and down your folds, gathering up all the slick he could to coat his dick. He pushed into your entrance and your pussy started talking.

“Mmm, growl at me,” he moaned. “Fuck.”

He dipped the head of his dick in and out of you, slowly, your pussy doing more than growling as he toyed with your aching hole. You cried every time his tip stretched you. He was easily the biggest you’d ever taken.

Terry put his left hand on your chest and moved his right hand up to your clit. This thumb pressed on your clit and a strangled noise burst from your throat. “I need you inside me,” you whined. “Please, please.” Your eyes watered.

You were going to lose your mind in a minute. You would dissolve into a puddle of goo or start barking like a dog if he teased you any more.

Terry moved his thumb in circles around your clit, causing you to sputter and moan, completely lost to the sensation. “Eyes on me,” he commanded.

Your eyes snapped open to him. To the softest gray and darkest blue of his eyes. His eyebrows curved in a severe arch. The same focus he had while chopping wood, he brought to killing you slowly from the inside out.

His thumb made your pussy relax enough for him to sink in deeper, further, aided by the fresh slick leaking out of you. If it weren’t for the throw blanket, you were sure you’d have to buy Mr. Omar a brand new couch.

“So wet. Fuck, you’re gripping my shit tough,” he moaned. He flicked his thumb harder.

You sniffled, tears running down your cheeks. “Please, I can’t. I can’t no more!” You yelled.

Terry leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. You moaned and played with his thick tongue, licked his juicy lips, and gently bit his bottom lip. He moaned. “I say when you’re done,” he said.

“Oh fuck,” you said as you lost all control over your body. Terry pushed all the way down to the hilt with a guttural groan. Veins popped out of his neck as he used you to hold some of his weight.

His dick throbbed, pulsed in time with his own heartbeat inside you. His dick pushed up against your sweet spot and before long, you were cumming on his dick.

“Yes, yes, cream this dick. Show me you need that shit,” he moaned. He pulled back until he was almost out and then he shoved back in. He increased his strokes the more he did it, your pussy growling on his dick, while he rolled his hips.

Your nails scratched at his chest as he moved his hands to either side of your stomach. The couch dipped with his weight as he pounded your pussy, punished her for whatever perceived slight against him.

“Terry!” You screamed.

“Scream it, baby,” he moaned. He pounded faster, nothing but wet, nasty smacks echoing in the room. Your pussy welcomed him in easily. He glided and fucked you to within an inch of your life.

“Why you fucking me like this?” You panted. Your thighs were weak against his hips. He pounded so fast that the hair on his thighs created a slight burn on yours. The burn only seeped into your skin, driving your pleasure through the roof. The next one was gonna kill you.

“Because you cum so pretty. Give me another,” he demanded. How many was his limit? How many would he pull from you? You were scared to find out.

Tears ran in tiny rivers down your cheeks. The pleasure was too much. Too big. Too wild. Too uncontrollable and fuck, you greedily wanted more. Your head flopped from side to side. You didn’t have another one in you. You couldn’t give him what wasn’t there.

His head dipped to nip at your chin, your neck, and your breast. He suckled your nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. Like a wilted flower with fresh water, you came back to life.

Electricity buzzed beneath your skin. Terry slipped out and then slapped his dick against your clit. Your pussy juices squelched and droplets bounced off. “Keep taking this dick like a good girl,” Terry moaned.

“Fuck, yes, Terry. Terry, Terry,” you moaned.

“Cream that shit, fuck,” Terry moaned.

He fucked another orgasm from you. Your nails dug in hard enough to draw blood as you screamed with pleasure, your voice drowning out the roaring wind outside. Terry stroked three more times before finally releasing his nut.

He bathed your insides with hot, throbbing splashes of his cum. He jerked above you, head lolling from side to side as he rode out his climax.

You both breathed heavily, bodies slick with sweat from the sex and from the still lit fire. You kissed each other with little pecks, needing air too much to lock lips. “Let me taste,” you said.

“Fuck,” Terry groaned. He slipped out of you carefully. You hissed as his glorious pipe slid out of you completely. His cum gushed out, pushed out by your pussy. You couldn’t stop clenching as you got onto your stomach.

You opened your mouth and looked at Terry. He stood up with one foot on the ground and one knee planted on the couch cushion. You gripped onto his waist and pulled him closer. Without hands, he made his dick jerk to attention, still fully hard. You took him in your mouth and hummed at the mix of your flavors.

You relaxed your jaw and took him in as far as he wanted to go. You controlled your breathing as he gripped your head. He pushed you onto his dick, making you suckle the full length of him. Not all of it fit, so his dick started to poke against your cheek.

“Lick it all up for me,” he said. His voice. His voice. He could command you to walk through burning flames and you would if it meant that he slutted you out like this every day from now on.

You suckled him deep, your eyes never leaving his. You communicated without words that the final chink was in place. You were his. Locked in. Mind to mind. Body to body. Soul to soul. You were his to toy with, play with, his to do whatever he fucking wanted. Because you knew down to your bones that no one else would do it for you. No one else would be able to redefine the meaning of sex for you.

His stare pulled you deeper and deeper into the pool of his eyes. Your eyes drooped as you let yourself get used. He thrust into your mouth, pulling your throat down on his dick. You gagged a bit and he moaned and jerked his hips. He lessened his strokes but kept up the pace.

Saliva and his pre-cum mixed in your mouth and dribbled down your chin. Your gawking was loud and disgusting as you sucked him down.

“You’re fucking perfect. Fucking perfect. Fuck, I’m finna bust,” he groaned, his chest rumbling with a growl.

His entire shaft throbbed as he held your head in place while he spilled down your throat. You swallowed his delicious cum, moaning at his taste. His eyes rolled back and you whined at the image.

You suckled on his tip like candy and he stuttered with a chuckle. “Okay, okay, okay,” he tapped out, gently pushing at your shoulders.

You giggled and then sat back and wiped your mouth. “Fuck. What the fuck was that?” You asked.

Terry grinned. He leaned over, kissed you, and then sat next to you. He pulled you into his side, running his hand up and down your back. Your body felt more than relaxed. Floating on cloud nine in a way that you didn’t know was possible.

“Ever since we met, I’ve been imagining what I’d do to you,” he said.

“I love the way your mind works,” you huffed.

Terry chuckled and kissed your temple. “I’m just happy to be of service,” he said.

You tapped his chest. “I can’t stand you,” you said.

Terry rained kisses down the side of your face until he could nibble on your ear. “That wasn’t what you said earlier.”

“I cannot be held accountable for the shit I say while you’re balls deep,” you said, holding up your hand.

Terry gripped your hand with a chuckle and brought it to his chest. He stared into your eyes and then kissed your hand. Then he moved your hand lower and lower, a grin spreading across his face. Your hand wrapped around his thickening dick.

“Already?!” You asked.

He shrugged. “Everything about you turns me the fuck on,” he said.

Terry made quick work of putting out the fire. Then, he brought you into the shower to ‘clean off’. All he managed to do was haul you against the shower wall and dig into your guts once more, filling you to the brim with his searing hot cum.

You dried each other off on the way to the bedroom before falling asleep as soon as your face hit the pillow. You smiled as you drifted off, the later half of your book filling in from your imagination. With Terry as inspiration, you had enough material to fill three books.

The next morning, you were on fire. Well, not literally, but Terry’s body heat ensured you never needed a heater or a throw blanket again.

Feeling you move, Terry woke up and kissed your neck. He was curled behind you, his large arm dropped across your stomach. He was too cute when he first woke up. Eyes blinking open. Licking his lips. Face fussy and scrunched up.

“Hm, good morning to you too,” you said, wiggling your ass against his morning wood.

Terry chuckled and moved his hand to your waist to still your movements. “Don’t play with me,” he said.

You continued to wiggle your ass. “Well, it is Christmas morning. Don’t I get a present?” You asked.

Terry hummed in your ear. “What kind of present?” He asked.

“You,” you said.

“It’s my pleasure to serve,” he whispered in your ear before lowering himself in the bed, beneath the covers. Your legs fell open as he adjusted himself in between and went to work, licking and suckling and nibbling around your clit and entrance until you were a ball of putty in his hands.

Incoherent nonsense spilled from your lips as he made you glimpse heaven two times before coming up for air. He kissed you, face shiny once more with your essence. You licked it off of him, licked the corners of his mouth, and suckled his bottom lip.

Terry groaned, sliding into you with ease. “Nasty ass,” he moaned.

But fuck, he was still so big. So nasty. He pounded into you, giving you long deep strokes. He lowered himself closer to your body so that your nipples rubbed against his chest.

“You fucking me too good!” You screamed.

Terry moaned and closed his eyes. He placed kisses all over your chest, neck, and lips, keeping pace. He carved a Terry shaped hole in your pussy and in your heart, one that he would only be able to fill.

“Cum on this dick. Let me feel it,” he begged.

Your moans increased. Like his words were just what you needed. You clenched around his dick and he groaned, hips jerking forward, before you finally gave in and gave him what he wanted.

“Shit, fuck,” he moaned as he came with you, dick twitching and pulsing. You would never get sick of that feeling. Never, ever, ever.

“Merry Christmas, chipmunk,” he said, panting for air.

“Merry Christmas, Terry.”

Terry spent the remainder of your stay fucking you into oblivion. Every morning, you woke up with new ideas, new tweaks to make the story better and improve on it. The sex scenes, in your very humble opinion, were the spiciest things you’d ever written. Filthy.

When you shared some snippets with your writing community, they about fell out with gleeful gifs and unhinged keyboard smashing.

Every night, Terry fulfilled his promise of giving you plenty to work with for your books. He twisted you in more ways than one. Folded you like a pretzel. Moved you in positions you’d never heard of. And each session left you so spent, your brain unplugged for the night.

On your last day there, you spent it wrapped up in the bed with Terry only coming up for air long enough to snack. And then he’d call you chipmunk or give you The Look. The one where he dipped his chin and his eyes lured you in.

Then you were kissing, touching, and exploring. Then your hand was wrapped around his dick and his fingers were buried in your pussy to the knuckle. You made it a game on who would cum first. You should’ve known you’d lose that battle. Especially when he commanded that you cum on his fingers with that deep voice and Carolina accent.

He would shove his wet fingers into your mouth so you could taste yourself while he fucked you from behind. Or from the front. Or from the side.

The side was becoming a favorite because you could look at him while still giving him access to your ass. He would smack it and squeeze it. Then you would hold your ass cheeks apart so he could watch his dick disappear inside you.

Then he’d make a show of licking his thumb and swirling it around your clit to set you off like a bottle rocket. Then you’d scream and scream his name and beg and beg for him to fill you to the brim one last time.

Just one last time. You just needed to feel it soaking your walls one last time. Really, the last time. Because you did have to get on the road soon.

You promised to find a way to spend time together. You weren’t that far from the rental and since he had his own cabin, it wouldn’t be so bad to arrange dates and fuck sessions.

You didn’t know what kind of Christmas miracle this was or who upstairs was looking out for you, but Terry Richmond was the best present ever.

Merry Christmas, my loves! Love ya'll so bad!

The Secret Terry Richmond Files

Taglist:

@planetblaque @chaos-4baby @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide

@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @xo-goldengirl @superhoeva

@avoidthings @lovedlover @blackgurlnhermoods @flydotty @sageispunk

@semi-yah @halfreal-and-halffiction @motheroffae @melaninpov @pinkpantheris

@slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @dreamsinfocus @brattyfics @mermaidchansons

@monaeesstuff @henneseyhoe @blowmymbackout @charismablu @playgurlxoxo

@misskiki90 @miyuhpapayuh @satoruya @starcrossedxwriter @yamst3rdamctrl

@steampunkprincess147 @sweettea-and-honeybutter @theblacklewinsky @soft-persephone @notapradagurl7

@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

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featherandferns · 3 months ago

Note

Could I pretty please request:

We might have a problem...Ask me again in twenty minutes.

This sounds so much fun. I can’t wait to see what you do with it, everything you write is absolute magic<3

8. We might have a problem...Ask me again in twenty minutes.

idk which part of the series I'm taking this road chase from lmao just go with it! sorry it took me so long to get to these lmao

Neutral - prompt 8

“Guys! They’re getting closer!” Kiara calls out.

“I hate this! I hate all of this!” you loudly announce.

“Yeah, thank you, baby, keep that feedback coming - it’s very helpful,” JJ mutters.

His hands are clenching the wheel tight, knuckles white, focus trained dead ahead on the road. Speed limits are a thing of the past: a nicety that all of you have long since abandoned. Anxiety is pulsing through your veins, somehow sharpening and blurring your vision. In the dark streets of Kildare, your headlights illuminate the road ahead. Behind, are square-groupers. Some gang or another that you had collectively managed to tick off during one of your many adventures. It was becoming far from a coincidence that you all managed to find yourself in these situations time and time again.

“They’re gaining!” Cleo tells you through her thick accent.

Your head snaps around to look through the rearview. She was right. What kind of car were they driving?

“JJ!” you shout.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it,” he says underbreath, shifting up a gear, picking up the speed. The Twinkie grunts at the effort and your brows tug together, eyes glancing down to the bonnet that you can see through the front window.

“Pope! How’s it looking?” JJ asks his friend in the back. Pope inspects the roadmap, trying to make out the street names through the dimly lit back of the van. “Pope!”

“Just give me a minute!”

“We don’t have a minute!” three of you chorus.

“Oh my God, this is how we die,” Sarah very usefully says to herself. You see your boyfriend roll his eyes, aggravated, stressed and driven.

“Pope, there’s a fork coming up,” you say, making out the road layout ahead. You glance to JJ and notice he isn’t slowing down. Then, to Pope. Then, to the road. “Pope!”

“Left! Take a left!”

JJ slams on the breaks, pulls up the handbrake, shifts down a gear, and toggles with the clutch. It happens in a split second, a chaotic collection of events that is blurred into one. Everyone in the van goes flying: you into the side window, gasping out in pain at the collision. Turning the wheel tight, JJ practically skids onto the road. The engine revs like a monster truck. And then, it makes the most blood chilling, mechanic-concerning noise you’ve ever heard. JJ tries to do something with the gear shift and it wiggles uselessly in place.

“Uh oh,” he mumbles.

“Uh oh? What’s ‘uh oh’?” you panic, studying him. He cringes and looks at the road.

“Uh…We might have a problem,” he says, trying to keep his tone chipper.

“We might have a problem?” you echo, bewildered.

“Ask me again in twenty minutes,” JJ flippantly says. He keeps driving ahead, foot hard on the pedal, but something sounds different this time. Something feels different too.

“JJ,” John B says in a rather levelled out tone. The kind that hints at a deeper anxiety. “Please don’t tell me you’re driving this in neutral right now?”

“Look, man, the axel must have–”

“Oh no.”

“We’re coasting?”

“At seventy miles per hour!”

“Look! I don’t control the fates, a’right! We gotta loose these guys!” JJ argues back, lifting one hand from the wheel to wave everybody off. You reach out and slam it back onto the grip; the last thing you need is him to lose control of the car.

“Oh my God, we’re actually going to die,” Sarah repeats, and this time, you don’t entirely disagree. It feels like a real possibility now.

“Kie! Are they still tailing us?” JJ calls out. Everyone looks through the back window. A new layer of tension has stacked inside the van.

“I don’t see them,” she says, the road behinds nothing but a dark abyss. “Maybe turn down a side road just to be safe?”

“Great, yeah, just make a turn in neutral,” you mutter.

“Baby, I gotta admit, if you keep that kinda attitude up, I might actually end up crashing this car,” JJ tells you. Your mouth falls open.

“Don’t tell me something like that!”

“Just make the turn!” John B demands.

“He’s right, man!” Cleo agrees.

“There’s a side road coming up in about ten yards or so,” Pope informs.

JJ nods and you immediately steel yourself in your seat. You check your seatbelt and grip the bottom of the chair, and you wait for him to slow down. He does, but not by much, and when he finally braves the corner, you make peace with your maker.

Thankfully, no collision comes. The engine rumbles off and the gang lets out a collected sigh of relief. Slowly opening your eyes, you glance over to see your boyfriend staring blankly at his grip on the wheel. He eventually looks over at you and a smile comes onto his face.

“What’d I tell you, huh? Nothing to worry about.”

“You owe me noodles,” you tell him, unimpressed, and get out the truck. The others follow suit and Sarah actually staggers over to some trash cans, worried she might vomit. JJ heads to the car bonnet and cracks it open. Smoke billows out with steam and he waves it away, John B and Cleo coming to join him in their inspection. You wander over to help console Kie and Sarah.

“Yep, that’s what I thought!” JJ announces. You look over to him to find a piece of mechanics held up in a bandana. “The gear shift is fucked!” Your eyes narrow at him for his chipperness. He owes you even more noodles now.

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj #obx #outerbanks #outer banks #obx 4 #outer banks 4 #outerbanks 4 #jj obx 4 #jj maybank obx 4 #jj drabble #jj maybank drabble #jj x reader drabble #jj maybank x reader drabble #jj fluff #jj maybank fluff

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introloves · 7 months ago

Note

REMI I NOW HEREBY NEED SOMETHING, ANYTHING, ABT ATSUMU FUCKING READER IN OSAMUS BED.

After he wins a game he’s just so so so excited to get his hands on you. It just so happens that Osamu’s room is on the first floor while his is on the second!!!! His brother mentioned he’d be working late-… suuuurllyyy he would understand !!

(he’d kill him)

ask and you shall receive 🪽

atsumu fucks you on osamu's bed + atsumu's a loverboy sorry not sorry + f! reader

— word count; approx 800 words

it’s always a frenzy with him. especially after games, it feels like he can’t breathe until he has you next to him. unit he can touch you and slot his mouth until yours, stealing breaths and whispers that giggle at him to stop enough to think, to let you get comfy against the door.

and while he loves attending to you, listening to you very well because he's rounded out how men are when they're in love. the drive and adrenaline coursing through his body makes him a little stupid. hips bumping into every corner from here to what he thinks is his room, until you fully open your eyes against his kisses. eyebrows furrowing at the unfamiliar layout.

"'tsumu." you mumble, rolling your eyes when all that is responded back is a hum from him- feeling his hands reach down and press his palms against your tummy, fingers tilting down to your waistband until you push weakly at his shoulders.

disengaging and meeting the lidded eyes and well formed pout on his face.

"this is osamu's room." you hiss, watching banners and posters that pertained to his twin decorating the wall. the bed shoved to the corner fitted with gray sheets and a black comforter- something atsumu hardly cared about.

but he's relentless- scoffs at why that would matter and responds back with a; "so?"

before hauling you to the bed, eyebrows scrunched with the smell of sleep and cologne similar, but oh so different. whining already when that hand that was making its way down finds the apex of your thighs and slides a finger in.

whole body taut- the singular word of "wet" playing over and over in his head. shucking his shorts down to his thighs to fist out his cock, ridding you of yours with movements so impatient all you could do was lay back and look pretty.

it's all he wants, what he likes. knowing you can lay and take it all, hands fisting osamu's comforter when his cock slides all the way in.

sheathed, your arousal already painting the dark hair laying at the base of his cock. toothy grin flashed your way with how cute you spasm, how you roll your eyes back and grab at his hoodie to bring him in.

wondering where the outcry from earlier went, you didn't seem to care this was osamu's bed now?

"pretty little thing." he laughs, pretty like him. frenzied thrusts meeting you, watching every jolt, shivering with how good this all is.

the high from winning and taking you eating away at the integrity of his stamina- he knows he's going to cum quick, but he isn't embarrassed. thumb reaching down to press mean circles around your clit over and over, only now listening to the loud squeak of the bed, backboard that doesn't belong to him slam into the wall over and over.

"c'mon." atsumu beckons, eyes softening at how you're trying to give him what he wants- barking out something that resembles a groan when you let yourself go. thighs squeezing, rocking, tensing around his unrelenting hips, eyes shut tight and face scrunched up all cute for him.

cumming down the length of his dick, running the seam of your ass and finally pooling down against the bedding.

messy, messy and finally paired with his own spend- trying his hardest to keep it all inside of you, last ditch effort of grabbing at your thighs and hauling you up his body.

thighs pressed around his middle while he sits up on his knees.

interrupted by the name of his brother flash across his phone screen, bothered by the fact that he was in the middle of attending to you- even when this was his room. "sorry baby." he murmurs before letting you down, body curling down to press a kiss to your forehead and answering the call.

"what?" atsumu nearly snaps, hand reaching down to grab at the corner of the already messy comforter- wiping the mess of you both from his cock. "if you're not out of there in ten minutes i'm burning your clothes you ingrate." osamu seethes, making a point to pound his fist against the wall adjacent to his room.

trying not to meet your horrified face, figures he should have checked to see if his twin was home in the first place, waving him away before chucking the phone back down. too busy to listen.

interested in joining an anime server? look no further than the love club! click here if interested!

#atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #miya atsumu #hq atsumu #msby atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #miya twins #haikyuu #hq x you #hq x y/n #smut #drabble #hq.txt

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aouiaa · 7 months ago

Text

[✶] — YOUTUBER!ELLIE HEADCANNONS

DISCLAIMERS & WARNINGS — EIGHTEEN PLUS, Mentions of pooping + Cursing (Girl cursing like she just learned) + Mention of hand pics (I think that’s it).

AUTHORS NOTE, took fucking forever to make that image, but i love it. — inspo layout: @andersonfilms :3

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who is blatantly honest on youtube. It’s scary.

She’s playing a random indie video game she found on steam, and giving her commentary as usual. Until there’s a sudden cut and she’s now in different clothes than the previous and she goes on to explain why.

“Hey, guys. Sorry, I had to take a massive shit, but guess who survived? This guy!” she says with a comical smile while pointing at herself before unpausing the game and playing as if nothing happened.

But for some reason, Youtuber!Ellie can’t let go that she pooped.

“But yeah, guys, like, shit, that fucker was begging to come out, so I’m sorry if I was acting different. I was clenching my asshole.”

How charming….ANYWAYS.

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie’s videos who have these stupid sound effects or pop-up memes for certain scenes.

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie having a resting bitch face when she’s focused.

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who cusses too much even in her intro, she’s literally cussing.

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who got a warning from YouTube themselves for it.

Imaging Youtuber!Ellie who literally said “Fuck that, I’m not following Youtube’s rules.” and continued cussing until she realized that she was getting less ads on her videos to which she decided to do a test. To see if her subscribers would notice if she did a full video, not cursing.

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who’s laughing while reading the comments on the video.

DarthVaderfan101: “Yo, y’all noticed how Ellie didn’t cuss once?”

Quacketyquack12: “Great vid btw no cussing?! THAT’S A FIRST!”

Elliesprettygirl: Sooo when’s our wedding?

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who does eventually swallows her pride and abides by Youtube’s rules.

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie whose user is some cringe 2011 based name; Ellieswolfgang.

God, I can just fucking imagine Youtuber!Ellie intro and how it would correlate with the user.

“Yo! What’s up my little wolves! *Queue the wolf howling* We are back with another video and today we’re playing another puppet combo game!”

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who thinks it’s too hilarious, and doesn’t change the username. And it’s always funny to see people every now and then comment about it.

Iloveellieswolfgang: “Woah, are we apart of your pack or something?”

Ellieswolfgang: Yeah, if you’re subscribed then you’re a part of the gang.

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who has the most funniest responses when replying to fans.

Wolfgangnation: “Yo, Ellieswolfgang! 👋”

Ellieswolfgang: “Yo, Wolfgangnation!”

Dyk3ang3l: AHHHH I LITERALLY JUMPED WHEN I SAW YOUR NOTIFICATION POP UP ON MY PHONE JEHDBSHAS

Ellieswolfgang: Ma’am, this is a library.

les4elliewilliams: So why is your name, Ellieswolfgang?

Ellieswolfgang: I don’t know, les4elliewilliams. Why is yours, les4elliewilliams?

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who wakes up at the asscrack of dawn—her words—to make Youtube videos, and edits them before eight am.

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who is known for her out of pocket humor.

“That isn’t a guy! That’s an ass with eyes!”

“GodDAMN, that bitch can lick three assholes from that tongue.”

Imaging Youtuber!Ellie who asks her followers on twitter to send her funny videos or scary videos to react to.

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who flinched so hard while watching a scary video a subscriber sent, she fell off her chair.

Gamerpro121: “Surprised she didn’t fall off her chair this time LMAOO

Ellieswolfgang: Literally the lowest point in my life… 💔

Gamerpro121: Oh shit, sorry man.

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who has to explain her jokes from time to time because some boomer doesn’t get it.

Ellieswolfgang: No, not actually. 😭 nvm..

Gamerpro121: Oh…OHHHH

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who was shocked when her merch quickly sold out after minutes of it just being released.

“Holy fuck, thank you guys for selling out my merch?! Didn’t expect that shit to happen! Man, y’all attacked it like flies attacking shit!”

Charming as always…

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who sometimes blogs, showing her day to day life, going to the gym, running errands, rating foods from restaurants, etc.

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who reacts to edits her fans make of her and is also shocked how many people love her hands.

“Woah, fuck youtube, Ima start selling hand pics. Missing the real bag here.”

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who collabs with her best friend Jesse, playing GTA, Minecraft, cod, and whatever games that her subscribers suggest since they love their dynamic.

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie’s fans who love her dynamic with Jesse because they’re always talking shit to each other.

“You dumbass! That guy was right in front of you!” Ellie yells at Jesse who just got them killed during a 1v1 on Fortnite.

“How is this my fault? It’s not my fault, you suck!”

“Says you! A blind three year old can play better than you.”

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who makes a video reading hate comments.

Allthegirlslove: “Ellie looks like she smells like shit!”

“Well…Allthegirlslove, new flash, All the girls don’t love you because they’re too busy watching my videos.” She says with a smirk, “And new flash,” she stops and sniffles herself, “I just shower before making this video, thank you very much.”

The video cuts and starts again of her showing the cologne she uses, “This is what I use, buy one and spray it in ya ass!”

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who actually dresses to impress when she’s about to record a new video.

Imagining Youtuber!Ellie who has her serious moments on the channel and that’s when the true love and support come into light. And she is truly grateful for the fans who can put the joking aside and just be there for her.

Youtuber!Ellie who genuinely loves how far her channel has come since she first started, and genuinely appreciates everyone who helped her meet her milestones.

FIRST PART - NEXT PART

TAGLIST ; @dyk3ang3l, @elliesprettygirl, @les4elliewilliams, @ellies2fingers, @r3starttt, @slut4mascss, @marsworlddd, @bready101

ELLIES TAGLIST ; @herelieskrisy, @mikellie, @slaysksmska, @mina-281, @teawithnosugar, @kitkatkittycat111

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georgiapeach30513 · 6 months ago

Text

Two Good Reasons, Part 1

Summary: Andy was supposed to be in the past. There's where he should have stayed.

Pairings: Andy Barber

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, mentions of teenage sex, unprotected sex, PIV sex, daddy kink, degradation, body issues, oral sex (M receiving), breeding kink, creampie, cheating? 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.3K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

The woman in front of you babbles on a few more seconds before you look at your computer confused. You are in over your head, and don’t know where to begin. Maybe lying on your resume was a terrible idea, and you were better suited for the coffee shop. They didn’t let you choose what hours you wanted to work, and you needed that. At least at this office you are given that luxury.

You were underqualified, and a kept woman of sorts. “Ma’am,” you glance up at her quickly. She has kind eyes, and an upturned nose. She was just a bit younger than you, and you want to trust her, but there’s that prickling feeling inside of you that makes you not trust younger women. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

You shake your head no, ashamedly. “I’m a fast learner though.”

“So was I,” she takes a moment to look around the office. You are the only two around, so you’re not sure why she’s so concerned. “Listen, take your time. It’s not that hard, but unfortunately there is a layout to things. You’re here, and I kinda like you. Mr. Drysdale isn’t a terrible human, and you’re at the front desk. So all in all you’ll be fine.”

You thank her, and nod your head. How the hell did you wind up here? Not just in your situation but this stupid place. You knew nobody, and now you’re left wondering if that was the point. That you wouldn’t be able to reach out to someone for help. You had no inner circle. No one to just vent to. It’s how he liked it. And what did that cost you? You look down at your left hand, and get angry all over again. You were past feeling sorry for yourself. Past begging and pleading for a different outcome. He hit you where it hurt.

Now you’re doing what is right for everyone. You’re becoming independent. Nothing is going to stop you. You’re not going to rely on a man. Or allow one to make you feel less about yourself. You’re going to make them proud. You’re going to…

Shit.

Your head ducks down quickly as a tall man walks through the door. He gives a quick glance your way, but you miss the crooked smile. You wouldn’t look at him. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t acknowledge his existence.

He bustles past you, directly to Mr. Drysdale’s office, and you finally stand up. Moving to jump in front of him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Barber, you’ll have to schedule an appointment with him.”

“So you do remember me?” How could you ever forget one of the most perfect human beings you’d ever met. You’re everything. Every first you ever had was with him. Every plan that you could ever make was with Andy. Everything was Andy’s. And that’s when he was younger.

His hair was lighter then, and he didn’t have that full delicious beard. He definitely didn’t seem this tall, or broad. Or scrumptiously thick. He was just a boy then, but now he is everything you knew he would be. He walks like he has so much power. Still commanding a room, and even the breath that you breathe, he steals from you.

You exhale slowly, nodding your head. What do you even say to this man? Quick look at his hand. He doesn’t have a ring, and now you feel invasive. But he’s got his hand on display. “I don’t remember you this quiet,” he smiles again.

He’s just as beautiful as you remember. Years ago the two of you had named all your children. You’re sure you have it tucked away somewhere. You even had your wedding planned. You had everything until he moved off. Distance became more than just the miles away that you were between you. It became the lack of communication. Then no communication. And as much as it pained you, you knew that he was gone, and he was forever going to be the one that got away.

Living a few decades had done his body good. He was — immaculate. Much taller than you remember. But apart from his physical appearance he still has that ability to make your stomach feel like mush. Like everything in this world ceases to exist because Andy Barber is around. You’re not a child anymore, but he still feels like he can stop time. Because when the two of you are together it’s the way that it was meant to be.

”Doe? You okay, sweetheart?” he asks again. You are sure you look like the biggest dork, standing in front of him to block the way to Mr. Drysdale’s office.

“You remember?” That little nickname was your undoing. How Andy managed to come up with it, he never told you. But it’s so soft and shy, something you weren’t then.

“There’s nothing I don’t remember with you,” why did that sound so sensual? It has to all be in your brain because you’re lonely. And he’s Andy. “You look good,” okay, now he’s lying. You look like a hot mess. Your makeup is mostly smeared on. Your clothes are things you found at a thrift store. Your eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep. And your weight fluctuates too often for you to keep up with. Depression can do that to a person.

“I look — nothing — you just — better.”

“You never could take a compliment,” he gives a wink, and takes one more step towards Mr. Drysdale’s office. “Is something wrong?”

“You need an appointment to meet with him.”

Andy looks down at you with a smile. You swear he’s taller than he used to be. You can almost feel the way his fingers would dig into your skin as you — stop it. You’re at work. And he’s Andy. “Ransom, get your ass out here.”

You hear a chair roll back, and are irritated that Andy is going to make it look like you aren’t doing your job. Mr. Drysdale opens the door, standing in the doorway with both hands on his hips and shrugs. “You’re about five minutes late.”

“Your secretary has been keeping me. For good reason though. Maybe you should let her know who the District Attorney is,” your jaw goes slack as you look at him. He did it. He really fucking did it. Next stop, judge. “Doe, care to join me for some coffee afterwards, and you and I can catch up?”

“I can’t,” it’s not a complete lie. You can’t just go and get coffee randomly. Things have to be planned out. You have people you have to call.

“She can’t,” Mr. Drysdale agrees, opening the door wider. “Stop trying to steal my office managers. He’s not hiring. He’ll lie to you, constantly. I pay better, and have better hours.”

“I’m the DA though, and you’re just the…”

“Shut up, and get in here. We’re not talking about it. But seriously, don’t listen to him. He’s a dangerous flirt,” Andy is definitely dangerous. And that terrifies you. He shakes his head with a smile, but you know the truth. Andy is poison to you. The best tasting poison. You’d find yourself falling without even trying. Because he was once your everything. And then you both grew up.

He darkens the doorway again, and you look back down at your computer. This is getting a bit ridiculous. You are trying to hold strong, and he is doing anything but that. He is a parasite sucking the life out of you until you fold to his desires. You’re not doing it. Losing Andy in the past was hell. Losing him now will be much more difficult. You’re an independent woman, goddammit.

“Doe?”

“You don’t have a meeting with Mr. Drysdale today. And tonight we’re closing early so people can enjoy the office party,” a party that was designed to celebrate another year of Andy being the DA. It was all very self gratifying for him. “Mr. Barber.”

“I don’t want you calling me that,” you glance up at him before returning back to your computer to just stare. You can’t even pretend to be working because you’re not. You’re just avoiding him and those looks, “Did I do something wrong?”

“Maybe calling me my childhood nickname? Nobody does that anymore, Mr. Barber,” he rolls his eyes before leaning over your desk. He’s too close. You can count the freckles that splay out over his nose, and smell his intoxicating cologne. The one you wish you knew what it was so you could be the girl that sprays a shirt and you can get a fill of him without having him. “Andy, what do you want?”

“For you to stop fighting my invitations to coffee. Or the office party. Or to dinner. Unless you have a perfectly good reason to tell me no,” he glances down at your left hand, and you feel sick. Would things be different a year ago? Would you still entertain Andy this long? The ego boost is working nice for your fragile self esteem.

But the way he looks at your left hand hungrily has you ready to actually vomit. This isn’t where you saw your life. Working in the Assistant District Attorney’s office while the DA barges in and compliments you, and asks you out on a daily basis. No. You were supposed to be keeping a house. And making sure your husband had dinner when he came home. And now you’re in fucking Newton and alone. Sort of.

Your tanline from your finger has since faded, and so should your conflicting feelings. Life wasn’t supposed to be so difficult. You know you sound like a child, but your dreams have been shattered so many times, and now here’s the first one waltzing back into your life asking for damn coffee. Or dinner. Or the office party. Next week will be something new.

“What if I just want to get drunk?” You had the means to go to the party. The means to do whatever you want. You didn’t have anyone relying on you tonight.

“Then I heavily suggest you let me make sure you get home safely and that nobody takes advantage of you.”

Do not allow this man to make that sound sweet. It’s not. It’s just basic human kindness. Stun him. Make him wonder and worry. Make him — want. Not just want, make him beg for the taste of you, “What if I want someone to take advantage of me?”

His eye brow cocks up, and his mouth turns up into a crooked smile. Andy’s knuckles bleach with how tight his fist is at the not so subtle suggestion. Good. You affected him as much as he’s been making you weak. “Any suggestions?”

There it is. The possessive Andy. The one that wants to let everyone know that you are his, and you are off limits. You want him to tell everyone that you belong to him. You want him to claim you in ways that the two of you feared when you were younger. You want him to own you. And you want him to leave you alone. One night. Just to prove to yourself you still got it, and then you want to live your life.

“Sweetheart, I won’t let anyone take advantage of you. You’re too precious for that.”

“And what if I want you to?” He growls. Actually growls. A rumble rolls up his chest, and he grits his teeth. His jaw pulses with desire. “Just one night.”

“There’s never been just one night between us,” you scoff. He’s making things difficult.

“You’ll just have to make it that way,” he wouldn’t want your baggage anyways. The two of you are adults now. You can’t be running around acting like teenagers and fucking everywhere you land. You have responsibilities and a job. A life. And…

“If you think you can say no to me after one night,” he challenges. Prick.

“It’s what it will have to be.”

He slams the two of your bodies against the door, and you shudder. Arching your back to bring your body closer to his, and his meaty hands slap over your ass. Sliding down the spheres before lifting you up, and you hungrily wrap your legs around his waist. Bringing him to your core, ripping your dress, but sighing at feeling his bulge next to you. Thankfully it was only ten dollars at GoodWill. Focus!

He grinds his hips into your aching body, and your vision blurs at the sensation. Head pointing up to the heavens while you offer up your sacrifice to Andy. Gasping for air, and his mouth traces down your neck. Tasting and nibbling your heated glaze, and your fingers make work of his button up shirt.

“You’re eager,” he rolls himself into your center, and you gasp at how hard he is. These slacks leave nothing to the imagination. You can see the perfect outline of him, and you need him naked now.

“Shut up, and fuck me,” removing your back off the door, he carries you down the hallway. Clawing at the back of your dress, and it’s fine, it’s already ripped. Tearing at the material with the need to only get you naked, so he can have you.

Andy drops your back onto the bed, untangling his arms so he can remove the rest of your dress. “Don’t worry, I’ve got some sweats for you,” you wish he would stop talking.

“Fuck me!”

Standing up, and off your body, you hate the loss of him, but enjoy him pulling and tugging on your underwear. Disposing of your bra, and he holds your legs open wide. Tilting his head to get a good look at your spread and weeping cunt. “Mmm, you look good enough to eat. Doe, you’re prettier than I remember.”

Why is he lying? Stop staring. It’s making you feel uncomfortable. You don’t have the body of a teenager anymore. Time is cruel, and the longer he stares, the more you want to just walk out of here. “Fuck,” his eyes roll in the back of his head when he enters a finger into your warmth. “Just as tight.”

Lying again. He probably says this about all his fuck buddies. You sit up in the bed and start jerking off every bit of clothing on his back. Making way to his pants, and you slowly undo his zipper. Peeling away his boxers, and you moan when his fat, thick, veiny cock bounces up in your face. “It’s yours. Go on, and take it,” Andy watches you with so much enthusiasm as you lick his precum off his slit.

Mewling at the musky taste that can only be described as Andy Barber. Your body liquifies and arousal pools in your core. You kiss down his shaft, keeping your eyes on him. There’s a lot of things that time can change. Your ability to suck a cock like a pro is one of them. Getting to the base of his length, your tongue twirls around the velvety steel, and you trace kisses over his sack. Keeping your eyes on him as you suck one into your mouth, and he lurches.

“You’re a goddess,” he groans, and you move over to the other. Massaging the testicle with your tongue before letting it fall out. Laying your tongue flat, you trace that delectable vein up his glorious dick before you reach his spongy head, and you swallow him. You try to swallow him whole, but come short. He somehow became bigger.

Wrapping both hands around his base, you bob on him. Gagging and slurping up the wetness before his hands grab both sides of your head, and you let your hands drop to your side, “Are you wanting me to fuck your mouth?”

Hollowing out your cheeks, you place your hands to grip onto his toned thighs. “You’re such a slut for me,” he says before his hips piston into you. Hitting the back of your throat like a man on a mission, and you let him take it. His pleasurable sounds are better than you remember. Maybe he’s just more comfortable. He’s older. More experienced. Not as timidly as the young man he was.

He halts his ministrations before pulling himself out of your throat, and you long to taste his cock again. His hands go under your armpits before he throws you up the bed. His wide body keeps your legs spread, and gripping his base, he runs it up and down your slit. Gathering up your juices. “Andy!”

“Shh, I’m enjoying seeing you spread open and begging for me to fuck you. Use your manners,” no. You can leave at any time. But you don’t want to. You want him to use you like his own personal sex doll. “Don’t be such a fucking brat. Say, please.”

“Please.”

“Is that all?” Oh, who is being the brat now? “Go on. Say it. My cock does want to sink into your warmth, and have you quaking and spread so wide. Keep you full and…”

“Please, fuck me, daddy,” the whine of your voice has him snapping his hips. Plunging into your needy cunt in one move, and you reel. Fingers gripping onto the bed sheets, and seeing stars with the depths that Andy reached. “You’re huge!” You gasp for air.

“So you’re saying when we were younger?”

“Not this — oh god — big!”

“I always loved it when you would go dumb on feeling me inside of you,” this cock is dangerous. It’s what all fantasies are made out of. Long, but not too long. But so fucking thick. Stretching you so wide that your toes curl. Back lifting off the bed because you can’t get enough of him. When was the last time you felt this satisfied by a human? The answer to that is depressing.

His movements are deliberate. They’re smooth like your body was made for him. He wouldn’t have to do anything, but just let you warm him. Keep him close to you forever. One night. Maybe a second night. No. Don’t fall for him. Don’t dream about his cock. He doesn’t need your mess of a life.

He pumps into you so slow, and you’re wrecked. This is better than you remember it. But you won’t allow your head to imagine that now is yours and Andy’s time. You won’t allow yourself to get worked up. You were teenage lovers that drifted apart, and you’re doing this one more time. That is all. Not more than that.

“Doe,” god, his voice. It tingles through your body, and you look up at him. He says your real name, smiling down at you. His voice dropped a few octaves with age, “Stay with me, baby. I know it feels good.”

“Don’t pre…”

“Aye! That happened one time. And it was our first time,” you can’t help but smile. You both were each other’s first, and it was less than stellar. It was raw, and unexpected. But you did it together. “You like this, huh?”

“That obvious?” He stabs into you with a quick hard thrust, and your mouth droops open. Fuck. He’s good. He’s too good. He’s too right. Does this ever have to end? Can he just stay seated inside of you forever? That’s not really the way you want to live life, but it’s a nice quick and fleeting thought.

It’s almost too slow and intimate. Like the way he’s fucking is more worshiping you and promising you another time tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. And you’re fighting that with all the resistance you can muster. You need him to fuck you and fuck you so hard and deep that it has a lasting effects and you won’t need him again. Even though you know that’s a lie.

“Andy, I…” his expression is pained, like he knows what you’re asking. “Please, don’t make this difficult.”

“I don’t want to. I want to make you mine,” the sentiment is too good to be true, and you hit on his shoulders. Letting him fall to his back before you saddle on up. Grabbing the base of his cock, you sink down over him, and fuck him. Use him for your pleasure. Bucking on top of him like you were made to do this. Your hands press hard into his toned chest. He got so much better with age, and then you are just you. Just plain. Just a woman that nobody would want in the daylight.

Getting yourself off is easy since he’s being a vocal man. You’ll let your legs be rubbed raw if it means you get to take him fully and to the hilt. It’s gotta last. It just has to. If life were different and it was easier, you could make this happen. You should tell him. Let him know the truth that changed your world. “I’m not able get pregnant,” keep it simple and easy. He doesn’t need to know the details.

You don’t know how he did it, but he has you off his body. Pushing your front onto the bed, and keeping you on your knees when he crawls behind you. Hands tightly on your hips as he slides all the way home. The only sound in the room is wet skin slapping on each other and needy hungry moans. Reaching under your stomach he lifts your back to his front as he pounds into you.

“Then let me fuck you like I’m going to breed you,” you whimper out his name, and an arm wraps around your neck. Holding you tight against him and adding pressure to the soft column. Cutting off a bit of your airflow, and making you dizzy. “Let me fuck my seed so deep in your belly, and make you mine.”

The words are so sweet and still so vulgar. “Yes! For real this time,” a few too many accidents in the past led to pregnancy scares. You don’t want an accident. You want him in your belly. You need him there. “Fuck me harder!”

He fucks you so hard that you know your going to bruise. The way he grips onto your soft curves tells you how badly he wants to keep you with him. “Look at me. Doe! Look at me!”

With furrowed brows you turn your head to stare into his eyes. “We’re about to come, and you’re going to keep your eyes on me, okay?” You nod your head as your orgasm builds in your belly. Bubbling and frothing just below the surface like a hot deadly volcano. Rumbling below the surface as he ruts into you like his life depends on it.

“Don’t take your eyes off me. Swear it!”

“I swear it,” one more slap into you, and your volcano erupts. Walls clamping around his cock. Placing him in a vice grip as thick ribbons of cum spurt inside of you. So much cream that you feel bloated, and so satiated. “Thank you,” you whisper as your eyes start to get heavy.

“Only a short nap. We’re going again. And again.”

“But I said…”

“You said, just for tonight. Not just one time,” you didn’t care to argue. You revel in the feeling of him in your belly as he starts to pull out. “Can I look?”

“What?” How does something so filthy seem sweet now. He wants to see himself inside of you.

“I’ve always wanted to look at you leaking without fear,” giggling you nod your head, and roll to your back. Spreading your legs open wide, while Andy settles in between your thighs on his belly, watching so closely and with bated breath as pearls of his seed drip out of you. “Perfect,” he hums, and starts fingering it back inside of you. “If I make it stick, you’re mine.”

“You won’t,” he hears the pain in your voice as you respond, and crawls up your body. Placing the softest most tender kiss up your imperfect body. Showing you love you can no longer give yourself. He ends on your lips, and kisses you so passionately that it takes your breath away. He won’t. And you can’t ever be his.

Andy looks at his text message from Ransom, making sure this was your house. Suburbs. This didn’t strike him as your home. But Ransom assured him it was. He walks up the steps to your home, and stumbles back.

“Andy? Why are you here?” Scott Huffman asks. A little girl clings to his leg, and she looks up at him smiling. “Aubrey, please, baby, get off daddy’s leg,” Andy looks at the little girl oddly. She has your eyes. “Go check on Suede.”

“Bubba!” She screams, getting off her dad’s leg. And he steps back. This is wrong. This can’t be right.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asks again. He grimaces when a loud bang reverberates inside the house, and he looks at his watch annoyed. “God, she’s late. I should have known she would be. Andy?”

“Umm,” he holds onto your clutch that you left at his house. Looking at Scott confused. He says your name, and Scott looks at him accusatory. “She left her — here.”

“How do you know my wife?”

“I’ve got to go,” Andy says, shoving the clutch into Scott’s arm as he walks away. No wonder you said that he couldn’t have you. You pranced around Ransom’s office without a ring. You trapped him. No. That’s not really the word for it. You said you couldn’t get pregnant, probably because you had your tubes tied after two kids.

What the fuck? How could you lie to him like that? He knows things didn’t end the way they should have. But cheating on your husband is another thing. Scott wasn’t really in his department, but he is aware of the lawyer. Ruthless. Come to think of it, he didn’t wear a ring either. He didn’t want to be in whatever sick bullshit you and your husband were playing.

He wants you. Wanted. Wants. He doesn’t know. And it doesn’t matter what he wants. Because you’re going to come home and be the perfect wife to your husband and at least two kids. And he’s going home alone.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy

#two good reasons #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #andy barber smut #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fanfic #andy barber fics #andy barber fic #chris evans #defending jacob #chris evans character

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woso-dreamzzz · 9 months ago

Text

Mimic II

McFoord x Baby!Reader

Beth England x Baby!Reader

Summary: You're scrappy

The day that it first happens is the match against United.

It's a home game and you're very familiar with the layout as you sit by one of the girls on the bench on your leash and watch.

Mam, predictably, gets a yellow card and you screech your outrage at the ref no matter how much nice Lotte tries to calm you down.

You think Lotte is an alright babysitter but she's very easy to get to do what you want and you know Mummy doesn't like that sometimes. You think she's told Lotte that too because she's got a tight grip on your leash and doesn't let you wander into Jonas' box to scream like you can usually get her to do.

So, you have to amuse yourself by tearing up grass and getting your hands all dirty.

The game ends with a narrow win for Arsenal and Mummy comes to get you very quickly.

You tug at the buckles of your leash. "Off! Off, Mummy!"

"Sorry, gremlin," Mummy laughs," But you have to be on the leash. You know why."

You stamp your foot as Mummy cleans your hands.

"Mam not on leash!" You say finally," Mam was naughty! Yellow rectangle for Mam!"

You're making a good point. Caitlin doesn't want to quite admit that though. You're on the leash because you're naughty sometimes and Katie definitely did get a yellow card today.

She sighs.

It's not the same at all but, for the sake of fairness, Caitlin lets you win this round.

Begrudgingly and definitely to avoid a tantrum, she unclips your leash.

You look positively delighted and she catches your arm before you go running off.

"Stay where me or Mam can see you," She says," And no biting people."

You nod. "I not bite."

"Alright," She says," Go on, run wild."

You giggle hysterically as you run off. You've not quite mastered running though because you trip a few times before pulling yourself up again.

You wander through the crowd of players until you spot the United keeper that saved Mummy's goal.

That's kind of naughty, you think. Saving Mummy's goal shouldn't be allowed.

The girl's kind of tall and she looks strong. She's wearing a different coloured shirt to the other United girls so you can easily track her through the crowd.

She's talking to Leah too and you know how to recognise Leah.

When people are naughty, you usually like to bite them but Mummy told you that you're not allowed to bite today so you choose the next best thing.

Mam says you're scrappy sometimes. You don't know what that means but you think it applies to this situation.

You creep up behind the girl before slamming the top of your head into the back of her knee.

She crumbles to the ground instantly, folding over like the pieces of paper that Mam uses to make paper planes.

"Mary!" Leah shrieks as the girl rolls onto her back.

"What the fuck?!"

You stand over her and wiggle your finger right in front of her face. You stamp your foot for good measure. "No save Mummy goal! Is naughty!"

"What-? Who are you?!"

Leah's hand pulls you further away. "This is Katie and Caitlin's kid," She says," Gremlin, say sorry."

"No! Say sorry first! Save Mummy's goal!"

Thankfully, this United girl (once she's recovered from her sudden fall) takes it in her stride.

"I'm sorry, kid," She laughs," It was only doing my job."

"Naughty job!" You insist," Not happen again!"

It's not exactly an isolated incident either. It seems after every match, you find some player to fight with.

It freaks most of them out, you think, because they're big and strong and you're tiny but still very capable of getting them to the grounds.

You surprise lots of people like Auntie Macca and Auntie Lanni, who find it all so funny that they send you off to do it to their teammates too.

Mummy doesn't like it though. She says that she's raising a delinquent and Mam says it's the McCabe genes, whatever that means.

You're not stingy in who you attack. Everyone is free game but there's one person that you really enjoy fighting with.

Her name's Beth. Beth England, to be exact because there's already a Beth at Arsenal and this one plays for Spurs instead.

Mam says that Spurs is Arsenal's number one rival and you have to hate them because they play in white and white is a colour you can never keep clean.

Beth England wears the armband that Captain Kim wears so you can easily recognise her in a crowd.

She's your nemesis.

That's a big word that Mummy taught you when you were watching Phineas and Ferb a few days ago.

"You need to be very good if I let you off," She says to you and you nod even though you're lying," I mean it. No fighting with Spurs players."

You lie again and nod.

"Alright, give me a kiss first and I'll let you go."

You give Mummy a big wet kiss and immediately, you're on your way.

Mam joins you on your journey and she demonstrates how to hold your fist if you're going to fight someone. She thinks your rivalry with Beth England is funny.

Mummy doesn't like her encouraging it but she does.

"Nem-sis!" You screech when Mam guides you over.

Beth England looks confused. "Nem-sis?"

"She means nemesis," Mam explains," It's her word of the week."

"Oh, right."

"Nem-sis!" You screech again to regain her attention. "Fight me!"

Beth England clears her throat before mimicking your position and putting up her fists.

You run at her.

You don't think she expects that. You think she thinks you were going to punch her but Mam says the element of surprise is important so you crash into her legs and try to topple her over.

She stays standing and you're unable to move her but you don't stop trying.

Behind your head, Katie smothers a laugh and gives Beth a pointed look.

She nods and very carefully lays on the ground like you've forced her over.

You look triumphant and sit on her stomach to stop her from getting up again.

You poke her right between her eyes. "Arsenal best!" You proclaim," Say!"

"Never!"

"Arsenal best!" You bounce on her stomach to show that she's not going anywhere. "Say!"

"You can't make me!"

"Say or! Or go on leash for being naughty!"

That's it. You've got her trembling under your might now and she goes limp.

"Arsenal's the best!" She proclaims," Arsenal's the best! Don't put me on the leash!"

"Good!" You stand up and wiggle your finger at her. "London red! Not dirty white!"

You run back over to Mam and take her hand.

"I beat Beth England!"

"You did!" Mam says," I'm so proud of you."

"'Cause London red!"

#woso x reader #mcfoord x reader #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe #caitlin foord x reader #caitlin foord #beth england x reader #beth england #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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shmaptainwrites · 11 months ago

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐑 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x single mom!Reader

SUMMARY — James moves into a new apartment and finds a new friend in his neighbour across the hall

WARNINGS — mild descriptions of blood and injury, hospitals/hospitalization, a little angst and hurt comfort

NOTE — Guys this was supposed to be out Monday, I am so sorry, life is just not life-ing (ie. its midterm season) so enjoy this being posted as I am fighting for my life in cell bio. Also this has only been minorly edited by me so if there's any weird wording ot typos I apologize in advance

If no one had told you someone was moving into the apartment across the hall from you, you probably would have gone months without noticing anyone in there. You weren’t sure if your schedules were just not in sync or maybe he never really left his place. Regardless, it took at least two months before you met your new neighbour.

When you did, it was a coincidence. You were leaving and he was coming back home.

You both paused and stared at each other for a moment before rushing to introduce yourselves, only to accidentally talk over each other.

After you both stopped, he motioned for you to go first. You gave him your name and made a stupid comment about how you hadn’t met until now. Maybe it wasn’t stupid because he laughed, or maybe he was just being nice.

“I’m James,” he said. “And about not seeing me, well it probably doesn’t help that I leave at the crack of dawn and usually come back late.”

“Oh, let me guess, doctor?” you asked and he nodded. “It was either that or day-shift stripper so I figured my odds were pretty good.”

That made him laugh again and you smiled.

“I hope you rest well before your next shift. Unfortunately, I have to head out. Duty calls.”

“I’ll see you around,” he gave you a small three-fingered wave which you returned before jogging down the stairs.

You didn’t think you’d have much reason to see him again, but accidents do happen.

You knew sometimes you’d have the tendency to be a bit clumsy, but this was beyond that. Dropping your knife down next to the half cut vegetables, you looked around for something to wrap your hand in to stop the bleeding.

You thought about your options, you could call an ambulance and pay the ridiculous fee, you could drive yourself to the ER and risk getting into an accident, or you could knock on your neighbour’s door and hope he was home.

You sprung for option three, seeing as it was most immediate.

Opening your door, barely even bothering to close it behind you, you knocked on James’ door, praying that he was home and would be able to help.

It seemed as though your prayers were answered because you heard the lock click and the door open to a very confused looking James.

“I am so sorry to bother you,” you started, “but I was making dinner and the knife slipped-,”

“You cut yourself,” he filled in the blanks himself and you nodded, biting down on your tongue from the pain. “Come in, let me see if I can get you sorted.”

He opened his door wider and you stepped into his apartment, an identical layout to yours, but differing in decor and furniture.

He pulled back a chair at his small dining table for you to sit at and went to another room to grab something.

He came back with a first aid kit and sat down in the chair next to you, opening the kit and grabbing a few things he knew he would need before pulling back the towel you had wrapped your hand in and examining the cut.

“Wow, this is really deep,” he remarked. “You must be in a lot of pain.”

“Yeah, trying really hard not to pay attention to it right now,” you nodded through gritted teeth.

“Look, I don’t have a lot of stuff with me, but I think this lidocaine numbing spray should help a bit, but it will sting first,” he warned you and you nodded.

He used the spray and you winced, but just as he said the pain slowly dissipated and soon all you could feel was a dull ache. He started by cleaning the wound and flushing it with some water and alcohol.

“So what were you cooking?” he asked.

“Trying to make just some chicken and potatoes, but of course my hand and the knife decide to slip at the same time,” you sighed.

He pulled out a needle and some surgical thread next, determining what the best way to stitch you up was.

“Do this often?” you asked.

“Unfortunately for you, no I don’t,” he shook his head. “I work in oncology so I have to think a little harder about my stitching.”

“As long as it’s free, take all the time you need,” you joked.

“Oh, no one told you, my rate is 500$ a minute, I take cash or cheque,” he teased right back and you chuckled a bit.

“How about I do you a favour when you need it and we call it even?” you asked and he nodded his head.

“Seems equivalent. Alright, you’re gonna feel a light pinch,” he said and saw your face contort in discomfort and he quickly apologized.

He tried to do the stitching as quickly as possible, and then covered it up with gauze and tape to make sure the stitches were protected.

“You should probably come by again tomorrow so I can take a look and make sure everything’s okay and it isn’t infected,” he said. “I should be back around six.”

“Sure, thanks again for this. It’s handy having a doctor next door,” you smiled. “Now I should probably go and clean all the blood off my counters and order something to eat.”

“Hey, why don’t you just have a plate of food here before you go back?” James suggested. “I made extra.”

“You sure? You already stitched me up and now you want me to eat your food?”

“It’ll be nice company,” he assured you. “Unless you have someone you need to get back to.”

“No, it’s just me right now,” you nodded. “I’ll stay, the blood can wait.”

James served you a plate of the food he had made before grabbing his half-eaten dinner and joining you again at the dining room table.

“So, um, you know what I do for work first hand now,” James started. “What about yourself?”

“I like to say I’m a constant student of the world’s universal language,” you smiled to yourself, “but people don’t really know what I mean by that so usually stick to saying I’m a professor of mathematics.”

“Wow,” James looked impressed. “You don’t really look like a math professor. All of mine were a little…crazy. I never would have guessed.”

“Unfortunately not everyone can have Einstein’s hair,” you joked and James laughed.

“Do you teach at Princeton then?” he asked and you nodded. “What a coincidence. I work at the teaching hospital.”

“Oh, you must know Lisa then,” you grinned. “She’s a good friend of mine.”

James nodded, “Such a small world.”

“You’re telling me.”

You continued to eat dinner and chat about various things, most pertaining to the school or your mutual connection through Lisa. By the end of the evening, when you wished him a good night and went back over to your apartment, a part of you was happy your hand would give you an excuse to see your neighbour once more.

—

James stared blankly at his fridge wondering how he’d managed to go this long without buying any groceries. He could just eat out and put off shopping for another day, but he had time off and he probably should take advantage of it.

Without much more thought, he grabbed his house key and his coat, deciding to go to the grocery store just down the street, it would be a nice walk in the afternoon sun. When he opened his door, he saw you standing outside with a few empty grocery bags in hand.

“You heading down to the store?” he asked and you nodded with a smile.

“You too?”

“I don’t have the hardware,” he pointed to your bags. “But the fridge is empty, so yeah, I figured it was about time to do a grocery run. How’s your hand doing?”

“A lot better than last week. Thanks for asking,” you looked down at your bandaged palm. “Excited to be able to take this off.”

Just as James was about to say goodbye and wish you a good rest of your afternoon, your door opened and a young girl stepped out.

“Mom, I can’t do up my zipper, it keeps getting stuck,” she grumbled.

“Here, let me give you a hand with that,” you bent down and put the grocery bags to the side, helping her out with the finicky zipper. “Maybe we need to get you a new jacket, this one’s starting to get a bit tight, huh?”

The girl nodded and thanked you for your help by giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“Mom, who’s that?” she pointed to James and you chuckled a little.

“I was just about to introduce you two,” you said. “Nadia, this is James, James this is Nadia. My daughter.”

“Nice to meet you, Nadia,” James waved and she waved back.

“Are you friends with my mom?” she asked.

“I-I think so,” James nodded.

“Yeah, we’re friends,” you agreed.

“If he’s your friend can he come over for dinner tonight?” Nadia asked.

You looked in between your daughter and James once a few times before saying,

“You know, I think it’s his day off, I’m not too sure if he had plans already.”

James shoved his hand in his pockets and asked,

“And what if I don’t have plans?”

You bit back a small smile, “Then I would say, do you want to come get groceries and have dinner with us tonight?”

“I’d love to.”

“Nice,” Nadia grinned. “That means we get dessert.”

You scoffed and looked down at your daughter, “Is that what this was all about?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged her shoulders innocently and you shook your head, locking the door behind you and beginning to walk down the stairs, Nadia leading the way and James at your side.

“You never mentioned you had a daughter,” James said quietly while you walked down the sidewalk, Nadia running ahead to press the button for the crosswalk.

“Never came up,” you shrugged. “She was with her dad both times you saw me before.”

“She’s cute,” James said simply. “Looks a lot like her mom.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, trying to ignore the warm feeling rising up in your cheeks.

You watched as Nadia came running back up to you both and tapped James on the arm.

“Do you like apple crumble and ice cream?” she asked.

“I do,” James nodded. “I used to make it with my mom when I was around your age.”

“My mom makes it with me too,” Nadia grinned. “Can we have that for dessert tonight?”

“Sure, if they have the granny smith apples, if not maybe we can make a peach cobbler instead,” you suggested and Nadia agreed, taking your hand and dragging you towards the store so you could get the ingredients faster.

You and James did your shopping in parallel and would both send Nadia on small quests to retrieve some things you needed to keep her busy.

“You’re pretty good with kids,” you commented after he had told Nadia about her next ‘top secret mission’.

“Comes a bit with the job,” he said, sifting through the peppers on the produce stand to find a few good ones. “It’s nice to be reminded every once in a while that not all kids are going through treatment.”

“I don’t know how you’d be able to see that every day,” you shook your head and sighed. “I would be a wreck if Nadia was in the hospital.”

“Well, let’s hope that never happens.”

“James! I got the berries!” Nadia came speeding back and handed him the basket of strawberries before taking a moment to catch her breath.

“Wow, that was fast,” he grinned. “Come on, I think it’s about time we go pay for all this stuff.”

You weren’t sure whether it was slight of hand or if James had an in with the cashier, but he managed to pay for the groceries, insisting it was just paying for dinner, so to even it out you slipped 50$ to the cashier to pay for his things.

“It’s not really letting me pay for dinner if you just pay for my stuff too,” he teased you as you walked home.

“If you’re really that set on paying me back you can come help me and Nadia cook. Maybe make sure I don’t cut my hand again,” you waved your bandaged hand in the air.

“Alright,” he conceded. “I’ll be over as soon as I drop these off.”

When you got home, you and Nadia quickly cleared up a few of her toys from the living room and a few minutes later, as expected, James’ knock echoed through the apartment. Nadia beat you to the door and grabbed James’ hand, bringing him to the kitchen and shutting the door behind them.

“Since you know how to make the crumble you can wash and peel the apples,” Nadia instructed.

“Is this okay with mom?” James asked.

“I’ve tried your cooking before, it’s okay with me,” you nodded. “Nadia, hon, do you want to help with the salad? Like I taught you?”

She nodded her head and went to wash her hands quickly before standing up on a stool so she could reach the counter and cut the vegetables.

“Be very careful with the knife, okay? Don’t make the same mistake mom did otherwise James is gonna start asking for our medical insurance,” you teased and Nadia gave you the classic,

“I know, I know. I’ve done this like a million times.”

“Well, let’s make it a million and one without accidents,” James added and you mouthed a thank you to him.

Nadia was chopping away and bossing all of you around like she was head chef at a restaurant, all the while interrogating James about his work at the hospital and how he ended up in the apartment across the hall.

“Where did you live before?” she asked.

“Uh, kind of close to where your mom works,” he said. “In a house with a nice apple tree in the front yard.”

“So why did you move to an apartment then?”

James chuckled. “Good question. I um, I used to be married, but I’m not anymore so I decided to move somewhere different.”

“Like mom and dad,” Nadia nodded her head in understanding.

“Yeah, a bit like your mom and dad, I guess,” he agreed. “Do you like it in this building?”

“Yeah,” Nadia nodded. “And mom cooks better than dad, but don’t tell him that.”

“It’ll be our little secret,” James winked and finished mixing the apples with cinnamon, sugar, and a few other spices and ingredients.

Dinner was ready within the next hour and dessert followed soon after, much to Nadia’s excitement.

“Okay, moment of truth,” James sucked some air through his teeth as he served Nadia a plate with some ice cream on the side.

She dug into it and put on her best thinking face before giving a big thumbs up and a smile.

“Phew,” James sat back down in his seat and Nadia giggled at his exaggeration. He finished serving you and himself before putting the ice cream back in your freezer so it wouldn’t melt.

“So, did you enjoy your day off?” you asked.

“More than I was expecting to,” he nodded. “Thank you guys for having me over.”

“Maybe you can come again next time I’m back with mom?” Nadia suggested. “Can we have dinner with James?”

“I mean, if he wants to I have no objection,” you agreed with her.

“I’ll mark it in my calendar.”

Nadia quietly celebrated and said something about having dessert every time and you gave her a warning look that only encouraged her to continue to be cheeky.

Dessert was followed by a sugar rush, and crash and while Nadia snored on the couch you were saying goodbye to James and thanking him for spending the day.

“She really likes you,” you looked over at your sleeping daughter on the couch.

“Feeling’s mutual,” he smiled softly.

“You know, if you ever want company or a friend, my door’s always open,” you told him. “Even if it’s just someone to sit in silence with you at the end of a long day.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“And I’m sorry about your divorce,” you said. “If I can say one thing it’s just that it gets better. Eventually.”

He nodded his head and gave you a sad smile.

“Helps when you have a friend who understands,” he patted your arm and wished you goodnight walking across the hall and disappearing behind the door.

—

The couch was your favourite place to grade assignments and midterms. Final exams needed something a little more substantial considering how long they’d take when you didn’t have a teaching assistant helping you.

You didn’t know how many cups of coffee you’d gone through when you heard the knock on your door.

“It’s James,” you heard through the other side. “A little birdy told me you were stuck grading all day.”

“Come in,” you called back and he opened the unlocked door and slipped inside, coming to join you on the couch.

“I brought you a pick me up but I see that may send you into cardiac arrest,” he looked over at your many mugs littering the table.

“I have a weird thing about making coffee in the same cup,” you shook your head. “And I will take that,” you grabbed the to-go mug out of his hands, taking a sip of the piping hot drink. “God, sometimes when I’m writing these tests I forget I have to grade them too.”

James chuckled and looked over at the papers laid out on the coffee table.

“Why don’t you take a short break. No one expects you to get all the exams back the day after midterms,” he said.

“Yeah, but my TA expects me to grade all the long proofs so that they can do their part and grade the short answer stuff,” you sighed. “But you’re right I should take a break before I start taking marks off for using a weird letter as a variable, or something more complicated than that, I don’t know I can barely think straight anymore.”

James took the coffee and midterm out of your hands, putting them on the table, letting you lean back further into the couch and close your eyes for two seconds.

“Is Nadia with her dad?” he asked.

“Yeah, visiting her grandparents,” you nodded. “I hope they don’t fill her head with too much nonsense.”

James looked at you a little confused so you explained further, “They hated me, don’t know why. Maybe because they expected Mike to have a stay at home wife, but after we graduated I wanted more.”

“So you went to get your master’s and doctorate,” James filled in and you nodded.

“They thought I was trying to make their son look stupid, but they grossly overestimated my motives,” you chuckled humourlessly. “I’m just really nerdy and like math. I wanted to learn more so I did.”

“And what did your ex think?” he asked.

“Mike…he’s an interesting guy,” you shrugged. “I don’t think he’s a bad person, he was just a bad husband for me. He’s a decent dad, he’s there for Nadia, but he wasn’t there for me when I needed him to be.” you shared. “What about you? What went wrong there?”

“The first time or the second?” he asked with a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No kids I’m guessing,” you said and he shook his head.

“First time, I was working two jobs to keep us afloat while she was at an unpaid internship. We both had terrible communication skills, and shouldn't have been married in the first place. The second time, I think I screwed that one up.”

He ran a hand through his hair before letting both his hands rest in his lap.

“Marriage is hard as hell,” you sighed. “I mean I wasn’t much of a picnic for Mike either.”

“You don’t have to try and make me feel better,” he assured you. “Although I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I’m serious. A marriage goes two ways and yeah sure, one person can screw up bigger than the other, but it’s not that one person is perfect and the other isn’t,” you said.

James pursed his lips and leaned forward, his arms resting against his legs. He wished it was that simple.

“Okay, my goal was not to bring down the mood,” James finally said. “This was supposed to be a fun work break.”

“I hate to tell you you’re failing miserably at the fun part,” you teased.

“Alright, then tell me why you decided to study math, of all the things you could have learnt about, why did math speak to you the most?”

“Katherine Johnson,” you said and yawned, rubbing your eyes. “I read about her in some random book in the library and I realized that numbers are what make everything in the world work. If she could send a rocket ship to space using math, then she had a superpower and I wanted a taste of it.”

“Did you get a taste of it?”

“Did my master’s degree research while jointly working with NASA, so yeah, I did,” you nodded with a smile. “And unfortunately, I have to use that superpower to finish grading these. You can stay if you want, I don’t mind.”

James looked at his watch and sighed,

“I have a meeting scheduled with the hospital board tomorrow morning. I should probably go get some sleep. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

You patted his leg and assured him you’d be in bed within the next few hours whether you liked it or not. Your body probably wouldn’t let you stay up any longer.

James gave your hand a gentle squeeze and said goodnight, showing himself out.

—

The sound of the phone ringing echoed through the house and you called for Nadia to pick it up, busy washing dishes. When she didn’t respond, you sighed to yourself and quickly turned off the water, wiping your hands and going to pick the phone up yourself.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s James.”

“James, what’s up? Aren’t you still at work?” you asked, looking over at the clock.

“That’s actually what I’m calling about, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make dinner this week,” he said. “Something’s come up and I’m going to be here late.”

“Oh that’s too bad. We’ll just have to reschedule,” you assured him.

“Can you put Nadia on the line? I wanted to apologize to her myself.”

“Sure,” you chuckled and called Nadia again. She came out of her room, rubbing her eyes and you told her James was on the phone asking for her. She took the phone from you and said hello, talking to James for a short while. You could see she was disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to make it, but you heard him promise to make it up to her with a movie night one weekend instead.

“Bye James,” she said and nodded her head in response to something he said before hanging up. “He says bye to you too.”

“Thanks honey,” you patted her back. “Are you feeling okay?” you asked. “You’re looking a little tired.”

“I feel tired,” she confirmed. “Can I go take a nap?”

“Sure,” you rubbed her back. “Do you want me to come and stay with you?”

“I’m okay right now,” she yawned.

You nodded your head and watched her make her way back to her bedroom. That evening you had a quiet dinner, deciding maybe to make soup in case Nadia was coming down with something. She didn’t have much of an appetite, only eating half of her bowl before beginning to cough, one of those deep chest coughs that made you feel a little worried.

You quickly got her changed in her pyjamas and had her sleep in your bed for the night so you could keep a close eye on her.

Your instincts that something was wrong ended up being right, as Nadia woke up with a continuing cough in the middle of the night and she felt hot to the touch.

“Nadia, honey are you going to be okay here for two minutes? I’m gonna go see if I can get some help,” you said and she nodded her head while continuing to cough.

Quickly, you ran over to James’ place and knocked on the door, an arm wrapped around your stomach while you chewed on your fingernails.

James opened the door wearing a college t-shirt and sweatpants, immediately taking in your concerned features and asking what was wrong.

“Nadia got sick and I think she’s getting worse,” you bit your tongue. “I’m so sorry to wake you up, but could you come check on her for me?”

“Of course,” James nodded, placing a hand on your back as he stepped out of his apartment, closing the door behind him and walking back to yours.

You led him over to your room where Nadia was laying down and he took a seat next to her on the bed and placed his hand on her arm, letting her know he was there.

“James?” she coughed.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he gave her a soft smile. “I heard you weren’t feeling too good.”

She nodded her head.

“Is it okay if I do a quick check up to see what’s wrong?” he asked and she nodded again, letting him help her sit up.

He first touched her forehead with the back of his hand to feel her temperature and then placed his ear to her chest to listen to her breathing.

“Thanks, Nadia, you can lay back down now while I talk to your mom, okay? Try and stay on your side, it'll help with the cough.”

James motioned for you to follow him just outside of the room so he could tell you what he thought was going on.

“I think she’s caught some kind of bug that’s causing pneumonia,” he said. “Her breathing didn’t sound too great so I think it’s a safe bet to take her to the hospital, but I’d say you still have time to pack a bag with a few things and I can get Nadia ready and drive you guys.”

“James, you don’t have to do that,” you shook your head. “I already woke you up and-,”

“I insist,” he said. “You walk with me into that ER and I’m allowed to boss around the nurses and call the best doctor in pediatrics.”

“Okay,” you nodded your head and took a shaky deep breath. “She’s gonna be okay, r-right?”

“They’ll give her an antiviral or antibiotic and keep her for a few nights to make sure it doesn’t get worse and before you know it she’ll be good as new.”

You chewed on your lip and went to go pack a bag with a few of your things and Nadia’s while James helped Nadia get out of bed and into some shoes and a warm jacket with a hat so the cold air didn’t bite at her.

“Are you coming with us?” Nadia asked James after a string of coughs.

“Sure am,” he nodded. “I’m gonna drive and your mom’s gonna sit in the back with you.”

“Why do we have to go to the hospital?” she asked.

“Well, sometimes when we get sick at night that’s the fastest way to see a doctor and get the right medicine to get better,” James explained, opening his arms up for Nadia to climb into them to he could carry her to the car just as you had come out with a packed duffle bag.

“We can take your car,” you said. “I’ll find my way back tomorrow to get mine.”

James nodded his head and quickly went into his place to grab his keys and lock the door behind him.

He drove as fast as he could while still being within the speed limit, keeping an eye on his rearview mirror, seeing Nadia huddled up into your side.

“Mom, my chest hurts,” Nadia blinked back a few tears.

“Hold on, hon, we’re almost there,” you squeezed onto her a little tighter.

James pulled into the ER parking lot and grabbed Nadia while you got your things, walking into the hospital together.

“Dr. Wilson, what are you doing here?” one of the nurses asked, confused.

“I’ve got a young girl, seven-years-old with pneumonia symptoms, we should get her on oxygen, do a test for bacterial and viral infections, and get a chest x-ray as soon as possible. And call Dr. Herberts, tell her I’m calling in my favour,” he instructed while placing Nadia down on one of the beds. “Nadia, this is my friend Alice,” he motioned to one of the nurses, “She’s gonna be with you while we figure out what’s going on.”

“What about you?” she asked while James grabbed the oxygen mask from one of the nurses.

“Your mom and I need to deal with a few other things before we can come be with you, but I promise Alice is going to take really good care of you. She’s really nice.”

“Promise you’ll come?” she asked and James stuck out his pinky for her to link with her own.

“Swear it,” he nodded. “Now can you put this on for me?” he asked, showing her the oxygen mask. “It’s going to help you breathe.”

She nodded her head and let James slip the mask over her head before the nurses wheeled her off to get the tests done.

James turned around and saw you finishing giving your information to one of the attendants and she was about to inform you where to go wait, but James motioned that he had it covered and she nodded.

Your exhaustion and worry had become all muddled together and you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore, covering your mouth with your hand while James came and wrapped you in his arms.

“She’s gonna be okay,” he assured you. “You did the right thing.”

You nodded your head and reciprocated the hug, burying your face in his shoulder to hide your tears from the onlookers.

After a few more moments, you pulled away and James quickly helped you wipe away your tears with the heel of his palm before wrapping his arm around you and leading you to radiology where Nadia would be getting her chest x-ray done.

He sat with you in the waiting room chairs until they brought Nadia out and told you that you could follow them to her room in the pediatrics ward.

By the time you got there and were settled with Nadia, James looked at the clock and noticed his shift would be starting in around an hour.

“You didn’t have to stay,” you said, quietly, gently brushing your fingers against Nadia’s cheek.

“Of course I did,” James smiled. “I pinky promised.”

Nadia looked up at you and nodded, making you chuckle.

“Nadi, can James go home so he can get ready for work?” you asked.

“I’ll come back and see you later after you’ve rested,” he assured her, “But nobody's gonna believe I’m a doctor dressed in these PJs.”

Nadia giggled, “You can go. Mom says you work here so you have to come back.”

“Bingo,” James snapped and gave her a thumbs up. “I’ll see you later sweetheart.”

He bent down and pressed a small kiss to her forehead, wishing her to get better before reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze. His signal to you that everything would be okay.

You pressed your lips together, knowing you were on the verge of tears again, but begged them not to leave your eyes. Instead, you watched misty eyed as this man who you didn’t even know only months ago cared for you and your daughter without question. It was something you hadn��t felt in a long time and so you let yourself soak in it for as long as it lasted.

—

After James had left, you called your ex and explained to him what had happened and he came to join you and Nadia at the hospital. The morning passed without much eventfulness and the doctor and nurses came to periodically check on Nadia, adjusting her medication and seeing if her symptoms were changing.

You left her with her father so that you could grab a cup of coffee from the cafeteria, barely having gotten a wink of sleep last night. When you returned, you couldn’t see Mike in the room with her, assuming he’d just made a run to the washroom, but instead you saw James sitting on the side of her bed talking to her.

He was dressed in his white coat, his hair a little scruffy and messy like it normally was. It looked like he was playing some sort of game with her because you could hear laughter and teasing through the glass walls and you decided to give them a minute alone together.

“Who’s that?” you could hear Mike’s voice ask as he walked up next to you.

“Dr. Wilson,” you said absentmindedly, smiling to yourself while Nadia laughed at James’ defeat in a thumb war.

“Acting more like a candy-striper than a doctor,” Mike muttered.

You continued to watch as Nadia pointed to the IV in her hand and James examined it for a moment, explaining something to her before pressing a gentle kiss to the affected area and telling her that he unfortunately had to leave, but he’d come again later and see her. Nadia pulled him in for a hug and they exchanged cute kisses on the cheek. At least it was cute to you, but to Mike who had no idea what was going on they looked a little suspicious.

“What the hell is he doing with my daughter?” he asked you, pushing past to try and give him a piece of his mind.

“Mike, wait!” you ran up to him, but he wouldn’t stop. “Mike, would you stop and listen to me for a minute!”

He stopped and turned to look at you, “You have an explanation for this?”

“Yes, I do,” you scoffed. “He’s my neighbour. He drove Nadia and I here last night. Just lay off. He’s a friend.”

Mike didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he listened and as James came out of Nadia’s room he pushed past him to go be with his daughter.

You rolled your eyes at his actions while James came to stand with you.

“I take it that’s Mike,” he said and you nodded your head with a chuckle. “Nadia looks a lot better.”

“Yeah, doctor’s said they want to keep her under observation one or two more days just to make sure everything is all okay and then they’ll send us home with some antivirals since they don’t think it was caused by a bacterial infection,” you explained.

“And how are you?” he asked and you took a deep breath, prompting him to reach for your hand that was by your side.

“I’m tired, I’m worried, I have to deal with Mike, I just…” you shook your head. “I’m happy you’re here.”

He gave you a half smile and brushed his thumb across your knuckles.

“You need anything and you call my pager. I’ll be right over,” he insisted. “And if you need a moment alone you can sit on the couch in my office.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you.”

His hand slipped out of yours as he walked away. You were just about to go back into the room with Nadia before you felt someone tap on your shoulder.

When you turned around you saw Lisa there with a small teddy bear in her hand from the gift shop.

“Hey,” you smiled and wrapped her in a hug.

“How’s Nadia? Wilson told me you had to bring her here last night.” she asked.

“She’s doing okay, a lot better than yesterday,” you shared with your friend.

“Will she be fine in there with Mike for a bit if I steal you?” she asked and you nodded your head. “Let me go in and say hi and give her this then we can walk.”

You went in with her and gave a kiss to Nadia whispering to her that you were going to go for a walk, but would be back soon.

“Mike,” Lisa gave him a curt nod which he returned before she turned her attention to Nadia, the expression on her face changing from one of neutrality to a smile while she handed her the gift and assured her she was gonna get better so fast and be out of the hospital in no time.

“I’m just gonna take your mom to make sure she gets something to eat so she can keep taking care of you. Does that sound good?” Lisa asked and Nadia agreed.

“James said you’d do that.”

“Oh, did he now,” Lisa placed her hands on her hips. “I’ll have to have a little chat with him later. You know I am his boss,” she winked and Nadia giggled.

You stepped out of the hospital room and once you were a bit of a distance away Lisa looked over to you.

“What was all that about right before I came?” she asked. “With Wilson?”

“James? Oh he was just checking in on me and Nadi,” you shook your head. “It was nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing,” Lisa raised her brows and you rolled your eyes.

“We’re not in high school. It was a rough night and he was there for it. That’s all.”

“And what did Mike think about that?” Lisa asked.

“He wasn’t impressed,” you sighed. “But he doesn’t really know how much time we’re spending together and he doesn’t need to because he’s not in charge of me.”

“He is half in charge of Nadia though,” Lisa said, making a fair point. “Just be open enough with him that it won’t be a headache when it comes to her.”

You nodded your head, and didn’t argue with Lisa when she offered to buy you something for breakfast.

“When was the last time you ate?” she asked.

“Last night, dinner,” you sighed, Lisa took the coffee out of your hands saying you shouldn’t be drinking the caffeine on an empty stomach and you chuckled a little at her motherly attitude.

You sat down at one of the tables and began to eat with her lightly chatting about a few things that had happened since you had last seen each other.

“You know, if anyone gives you trouble you can just call me,” she said.

“Is that an abuse of your power as Dean?” you asked, with a slight air of teasing in your voice.

“Not really,” she shrugged. “I’m just trying to make sure the patients here get the best care possible.”

“Especially when that patient is your unofficial niece,” you winked and she kicked you lightly under the table.

When you finished eating, Lisa walked you back to Nadia’s room before going to the clinic. Nadia was sleeping now and Mike was reading a magazine in the chair next to her bed.

“Thanks for staying with her,” you said. “I hadn’t eaten since last night.”

“No problem,” he said without looking up from the book.

You took a deep breath and sat down on the chair on the opposite side of Nadia’s bed, twiddling your thumbs.

“She talked a lot about Dr. Wilson,” he said, finally breaking the silence, putting the magazine off to the side.

“Yeah, she likes him a lot,” you nodded.

“Do you like him a lot?” he asked.

You shook your head at his question, “Mike does it matter what I feel? We’re not married anymore. I can understand your concern for Nadia, but I can tell you with certainty that he’s shown us nothing but kindness.”

Mike looked at you for a moment with a piercing stare before backing off and leaning back in his chair, opening the magazine once again.

—

You rarely liked the idea of being away from Nadia, but tonight you were feeling grateful she was at her dad’s place. The furnace had broken in your apartment and the only thing warming it was a small space heater you had in your room that was doing a job it was not built to do.

You were huddled under blankets wearing a hoodie and two pairs of pants, still feeling the cold air cut through somehow. You were just about to give up any hope of sleep when you heard a quiet knock at your door and curiously you made your way there, grabbing your housecoat as an extra layer.

When you looked through the peephole you saw James on the other side, just as bundled as you so you quickly opened the door, wondering if he was in a similar circumstance to you.

“Hey, I-I’m sorry were you asleep?” he asked and you shook your head. “My furnace broke and it’s absolutely freezing in my place, can I sleep on your couch tonight?”

“Talk about coincidence, mine’s broken too,” you chuckled. “I do have a space heater in my room, it’s not much but it’s better.”

“I-I wouldn’t want to-,”

“James, we're both freezing our asses off. Come inside.”

He didn’t argue with you and followed you over to your room. When you got there, you both stared at the bed like maybe something would change to make the situation less awkward and when it didn’t you took the lead, climbing into one side and getting under the covers.

James looked a little nervous, but he followed your lead, getting in on the other side.

It felt weird to talk so you both stayed silent, turning your backs to the centre of the bed and trying to focus on curling up to stay warm.

Unfortunately for you, you could feel your body start to move the blood away from your extremities in order to keep your core warm. It came with light shivering and some chattering of your teeth that you desperately tried to stop until you felt a hand on your arm.

“Turn around,” James said and you listened, maneuvering yourself so you were facing him, your bodies just a few inches apart. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you fully into him, letting his legs tangle with yours.

You could feel your heart beating in your ears while he brought your hands up to his chest, holding them in his slightly warmer ones, using a bit of friction to help them regain their heat.

“Better?” he asked and you silently nodded your head. “Good.”

Eventually you had regained enough heat that your body felt well enough to let you fall asleep and you could feel your eyes slowly begin to close as your head rested against James’ chest. He made sure you had enough room to breathe, but kept a tight hold on you until sleep came for him too.

—

“You slept with him?”

“I did not sleep with him,” you emphasized, pacing your office. “I slept with him. In the same bed. Together.”

“And you are freaking out about this, why?” Lisa asked.

“Because you don’t sleep in the same bed as your neighbours, Lisa!” you insisted. “But we did, a-and I was cold and he held me and…I liked it,” you finished in a whisper.

“What’s stopping you then?” she asked. “He’s cute, he’s a doctor-,”

“He’s divorced.”

“You’re divorced,” Lisa countered.

“Exactly,” you nodded. “He’s divorced twice. I’m divorced with a kid. That makes things… complicated.”

“Are you trying to stop Nadia from getting hurt, or are you trying to find an excuse to stop yourself because you’re too scared to see where this goes?” she asked you and you sighed.

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. “How can I tell that everything won’t just fall apart if I do something?”

“You can’t,” Lisa stood up and put a hand on your arm. “Just try to trust your gut, that’s all you can do in situations like this.”

“My gut is telling me to kiss him and run away,” you shook your head and Lisa nodded,

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t do that.”

“I’ll figure it out though, right. Eventually.”

Lisa didn’t say anything, simply giving you a hug, knowing deep down you knew what the right thing to do was and like you said, eventually, you’d come to the same conclusion.

—

Hearing the knock at your door, Nadia bounced off the couch and raced to open it, knowing what was awaiting her on the other side.

James leaned into the doorway when Nadia swung the door open and said,

“What night is it again?”

“Movie night!” Nadia cheered and jumped into his arms, her eyes growing wide when she saw the assortment of treats he was holding.

“It’s not a movie night without snacks,” he said and Nadia agreed with him. You came up towards them and snatched away two of the bags of candy.

“She just got a hundred percent clean bill of health from her pediatrician, you really wanna go and mess that up with all this candy?” you asked.

“Come on, I’m a doctor, I know what I’m doing,” James assured. “We’ll be reasonable, right Nadia?”

The young girl nodded her head and swore on her allowance that she wouldn’t eat all the candy. Hesitantly, you handed the bags back and gave them a skeptical look while they walked over to the couch to get things started.

You finished what you were doing in the kitchen and brought over a bowl of popcorn with you smiling to yourself when you saw Nadia sitting in James’ lap and telling him how to use the remote for your TV. You placed the bowl on the table and went to change into something a little more comfortable for the evening, hoping that by the time you came out they had picked something to watch.

When you stepped out of your room, now wearing a sweater and some flannel pyjama pants, Nadia informed you they were just about to start the movie.

“Come sit, quick mom,” she patted the spot next to her and James and you slipped in next to them, noticing how James wrapped his arm around you, bringing you in a little closer. You didn’t fight the close proximity and instead leaned into it more, resting your head against his shoulder.

Nadia had already leaned back against his chest, her eyes fixed on the screen and her hand shoved inside one of the bags of candy James had brought. The top of her head was just resting against the side of James’ chin and when you looked up at him he was glancing down at Nadia, a small smile on his lips. He looked content.

You could have stayed like that all night, just watching them, but you knew sooner or later you’d have to pay attention to the movie before they started asking questions.

Around halfway through the movie, James tapped your arm and you looked up at him, seeing him point to Nadia with his eyes, who was now fast asleep on him.

You chuckled quietly, sitting up a little straighter and saying,

“I can move her to her bedroom. You don’t have to stay for the rest of the movie.”

“Actually, I’m kind of invested,” James admitted. “But I will take you up on the moving her option, I’ve had to go pee since like the second musical number and she’s really squeezing my bladder.”

You bit back a laugh and shook your head, pausing the movie and standing up so you could genty lift Nadia off of James’ lap and carry her over to her bedroom, tucking her under the covers and placing a kiss to her forehead before going back out to the living room.

James was in the washroom still so you went and made yourself and him a mug of tea. When he came out, he joined you in the kitchen watching as you poured the hot water into the two colourful mugs with math puns on them.

“You take anything in your tea?” you asked.

“No, do you?”

“A little sugar,” you nodded and he offered to grab it for you, opening the cupboard in front of you and placing a hand on your back moving you slightly out of the way so he could take out the box of sugar cubes. Your breath hitched at the sudden contact and you hoped he didn’t hear it, instead masking your desire with small talk.

“I thought you had a sweet tooth,” you said. “It would explain all the candy.”

“I have a bit of a sweet tooth sometimes,” he admitted.

“I think Nadia enables you,” you grabbed your mug and passed James his.

“Oh she definitely does,” he nodded his head, taking a sip of the steaming hot drink before walking back to the couch with you.

You fell back into the same positions you were before, pressing play and continuing to watch the movie. After a few things progressed in the plot you spoke up asking,

“You think this movie’s going to have a happily ever after?”

“Sure, it’s a kid’s movie,” James nodded and looked down at you. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. “It’s stupid.”

James rubbed your arm, coaxing you to look back up at him again.

“You were thinking about something, what was it?”

“It’s just the happy endings don’t always happen,” you said. “I don’t know if I should let Nadi live in a world of fairytales or destroy all her hope of the future.”

“Maybe life isn’t all bells and whistles when it comes to love,” James started. “But we win with other things. I mean look at you, you’ve got an amazing daughter and you’re doing something you love with your life, isn’t that its own kind of happily ever after?”

“I guess it is,” you nodded.

“And you know, your life isn’t over. Who’s to say love is out of the picture?”

You were looking up at him and wondered how he could hit the nail on the head so accurately, like he could read your mind.

Right now, love was pretty clearly in the picture and it was sitting right in front of you.

You could feel yourself reach out your hand, gently brushing your fingertips against his cheek.

“And what if I’m not brave enough to go after it?” you whispered, feeling your heartbeat mixed with his and his shaky exhale that came with your touch.

“Then maybe,” his thumb and forefinger came to hold your chin up, his face inching closer to yours. “Maybe it can meet you halfway.”

You could feel your eyes flutter shut and his lips just barely ghost against yours when you heard a sound coming from Nadia’s bedroom and the spell was broken.

You both opened your eyes and after a moment you pulled away, just before Nadia opened the door to her room.

“Why was I in my room?” she asked.

You were still too stunned to speak, your mind racing at the idea that you were just about to kiss James, and he was going to kiss you back. You felt like a teenager, not knowing what to say or how to act.

Luckily, James was a little more composed than you and explained to Nadia that she had fallen asleep and that you both didn’t want to wake her.

“Is the movie over?” she asked and you all looked at the screen, seeing the end credits rolling.

“Yeah, it is, sorry sweetheart,” James apologized. “Can I make it up to you and read you a story before you go back to bed?”

“Sure,” Nadia agreed.

“Go brush your teeth first,” you instructed. “I’ll tuck you in once James is done reading.”

Nadia went off to the washroom and before James could say anything you stood up and grabbed a few of the dirty dishes, taking them to the kitchen to clean up. You couldn’t talk about what had just happened, not now at least, not when it was still so fresh.

You focused only on the dishes and cleaning the kitchen while James read Nadia her story before wishing her goodnight with a kiss on her forehead and waving goodbye to you and thanking you for the tea.

When the door closed behind him you let out a small breath that you had been holding and went to tuck Nadia into bed.

“Mom, are you okay?” Nadia asked, sensing your far off look.

“I’m fine,” you assured her with a forced smile. “Rest up, I have to take you to your dad’s place tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she yawned. “Night, mom.”

“Goodnight, honey.”

You kissed her on the cheek and stood up, going over to your room and sitting on the edge of the bed. You brushed your fingers against your own lips, closing your eyes you could still feel James pressed up against you, but you pushed it away.

Clearly, you still weren’t brave enough. Not yet.

—

The following weeks were awkward to say the least. You began spending more time in your office when Nadia was with her dad, just for another excuse to avoid James in the hallway.

He hadn’t made too much effort to reach out, you assumed to give you your space. You knew if you told Lisa she would just say you were overthinking things, but you couldn’t get out of your head, even if you wanted to.

You felt like you were going to stay in this crippling state of indecision forever, but you couldn’t keep it up, not when Nadia would ask questions, you needed to come up with something or someone needed to come up with something for you.

You arrived home late from campus today, this time with the legitimate excuse of grading finals. After the long hours of marking that had pushed you to extreme tedium and boredom you just wanted to curl up on the couch with a good book or something that would stimulate your brain.

Before you went to your room to get changed, you heard a knock at your door. Checking the time you wondered who it could be. It wasn’t often you had visitors past 9PM, that was unless it was James.

When you checked through the peephole, you could see James standing outside your door, waiting for a moment before knocking again.

“Come on, I know you’re in there,” he said. “Please, just let me in.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, unlocking the door and opening it, allowing him to step inside.

“Is Nadia at her dad’s place?” he asked while you were shutting the door.

“Yeah,” you nodded, still facing the wood door. “She’s at her-,”

You didn’t have a chance to finish your sentence before James turned you around, taking your face in his hands and pressing a searing kiss to your lips.

You stumbled back until you were pressed against the door, your eyes now closed while you pulled him closer to you. You let yourself run your fingers through your hair like you’d dreamt of doing the night you almost kissed, his hands moving from your face down to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You could feel your heart beating throughout every cell in your body, so loud it almost blocked out your thoughts. Almost.

You paused for a moment, holding James’ face in your hands and pulling away. Your lips felt swollen from the force with which he had kissed you and you wanted nothing more than to do it again, but you had to ask.

“Is our history going to make this complicated?”

“It’ll be complicated if we make it complicated,” he snuck past your defenses and stole another kiss, shorter, softer. “I want this. You. I want quiet nights just the two of us; loud nights with Nadia; breakfast in the early morning; lunches in your office; dinner together like this makeshift family we’ve created. I just…I want you and everything that comes with it.”

You smiled at his words, bringing him in close to you again for another kiss, this time long and slow like you were dragging out every moment of the future you had together.

When James pulled away from you, your hands fell from his face, travelling down his arms until they were in his. You looked over at him, blinking a few times until began to pull you towards your bedroom, a small smile coming across your face.

James sat down on the edge of your mattress and you stood in front of him. His hands were still in yours, looking up into your eyes. You let your hands come back up to his hair, scratching against his scalp. You smiled when his eyes closed and he hummed at the feeling of your touch.

His hands came back to hold your waist and he brought you closer, his thumb rubbing circles around your skin.

You bent down and pressed another soft kiss to his lips, causing his eyes to flutter open when you pulled away.

“What do you want to do?” you asked, fixing his hair you had messed up just earlier.

“I want to lay down here, and hold you,” he leaned back and pulled you on top of himself, sharing another kiss with you. “And I want to fall asleep knowing you’re in my arms.”

You smiled and nodded your head, whispering a quiet ‘okay’ while you adjusted yourselves to be more in the centre of the mattress.

And just like before, James pulled you close into him, but this time you didn’t let yourself feel taken aback or nervous, you leaned into his touch, savoured when you felt his lips pressed against your hairline, sighed when you felt his hands slip under your shirt to trace mindless shapes on your back.

No equation or formula would be able to describe what you were feeling and it made you realize that maybe math wasn’t the world’s universal language after all.

TAGLIST —

@cuntyvicodin @paola-carter @shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey

#james wilson #james wilson x reader #james wilson x you #dr wilson #dr wilson x reader #dr wilson x you #house md #house md x reader #hate crimes md #house md fanfiction #house fanfiction #james wilson fanfiction #james wilson fanfic #james wilson fic #lisa cuddy

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myloving · 6 months ago

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┄ a seraph’s call

　 the beautiful hymns is a free doc themed on columbina from genshin impact, best viewed on print layout for easier access with editing.

you can ⦂

ꔫ change template colors

﹒ change the photos

ꔫ basically anything else

you may not ⦂

﹒ Remove the credit for any reason at all (you may move it to a different area within the doc) 　

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 　𓏵　made for: anon ⠀ ⸺⠀⠀sorry about the wait!

⠀⠀⠀

#𓎢𓎟𓎡　　˚　　isolatehim #𓎢𓎟𓎡　　˚　　gdocs #google docs template #rp resources #rp template #googledocs #gdocs #free rp template #doc template

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angelseraphines · 1 month ago

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ೃ⁀➷ wild at heart ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ rick grimes x greene!reader headcanons

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

╰┈➤ as the middle greene sister, you possessed the fierce loyalty of maggie, the eldest, tempered by the gentle quietude of beth, the youngest. the bond between the greene sisters was as thick as the bark of an oak tree, strong and enduring. though you welcomed a few close friends into your life, it was in the company of maggie and beth that you discovered solace and understanding, a sanctuary from the world. you and beth being the daughters of your father’s second wife made no difference to maggie, all that mattered was that you were flesh and blood, a greene.

╰┈➤ when the outbreak began, your world unraveled. acquaintances and friends went missing or left the georgia countryside, resources were scarce and so your focus on your education was abandoned for the sake of your family, you could not leave your father’s farm, it wasn’t safe, despite your father’s belief in that a cure could be found. your days were spent hauling haystacks and knelt over the rich soil, your skin burning beneath the scorching rays of the sun.

╰┈➤ it had been a peaceful morning when he arrived, a man stained in his dying son’s blood and blue eyes clouded with terror. you were drinking chamomile tea on the porch with maggie when your brother-in-law, otis, came rushing, gasping for air, yelling that a boy had been accidentally shot in the chest and needed medical treatment. maggie would go find your father, you would go help the man with his son. he said nothing then as you took the pallid boy in your arms, you would briefly look into the eyes of the man. his gaze and the distress etched onto his white face told of the love he bore for his young son.

╰┈➤ you would not learn his name until later that night, the man was rick grimes, once a sheriff from a nearby county. in the spare room where the boy had been laid for your father to deal with the bullet shards in his chest, rick had been sat by his son’s side since he arrived. with his head hung low and skin drained dry of color, he would speak to you as you inserted the needle into the crook of his elbow for the blood transfusion. “when will your father begin with the operation?” rick slurred out. he had given far more than the safe amount of blood, you would not answer his question concerning the procedure as you were unsure and didn’t want to worry him any further, but you would warn him about the danger of donating more blood. as weak as he was, rick shook his head and stuck his arm out for the next transfusion, stating that carl was his son, his life was worth little without his family.

╰┈➤ when shane broke the news that otis was mauled by walkers on the mission to retrieve the necessary supplies to save carl’s life, you broke down in tears. maggie was left distraught and left the farmhouse to grieve on the porch, beth locked herself in her bedroom and wept all night, you would go on to assist in the bullet fragment removal in spite of your anguish, you had responsibilities that could not be forgotten in the name of misery. rick would come find you after the operation had been completed successfully, “i’m sorry about otis, he was a good man.” the grave weight of his tone left no doubt of his sincerity. you thanked him for kindness and expressed that you were simply grateful otis had not died in vain, but to save a child’s life.

╰┈➤ life returned to its more mundane state, only it was not only her family present, but rick grimes and the entirety of his group, living half a mile or so from the family farm. you had met some of them, but it was rick grimes who caught your interest. he was a true southern man, family-oriented and self-righteous in his beliefs, but you didn’t find that to be an unappealing characteristic. you were coming to realize that in dire times such as these, honor was something humanity desperately needed to cling onto.

╰┈➤ maggie knew you as if you were the palm of her hand, she would tease you endlessly for your little crush on the former sheriff. flustered, you would retort by bringing up her growing relationship with glenn rhee, to which maggie would toss an apple at you for your mockery. you were somewhat ashamed and tried your best to keep your affection for rick buried in your heart, as not only was he two decades your senior, but he was married to a woman named lori and had a young child. though there were times when you questioned how happy his relationship with his wife was, but you figured it was your fascination with him that clouded your judgment.

╰┈➤ you tried your best to push aside your feelings for rick, but days turned into weeks, and your sentiments toward him only became more serious. you were shy around him, a stark contrast to your usual demeanor which was lively and friendly. rick would go on to jest, saying, “you’re as quiet as a damn mouse.” the mirth in his eyes meant he was only joking, but your father would overhear this conversation in passing. when rick left to go deal with personal matters, your father would stop you, warning you that you should stay away from rick grimes. when you argued that he was a good man and your relationship with him was innocuous, your father shook his head, telling you they would have to leave sooner or later, he was responsible for his family, not for these strangers who indulged in their strained resources. you would accuse your father of being inhumane, of essentially sending them away to die, and would refuse to speak to him the rest of the day.

╰┈➤ you would come to find out that because of a botched plan to secretly meet between maggie and glenn your father’s secret barn harboring walkers was discovered by rick and his group. rick’s so-called best friend, shane, demanded with a great deal of aggression that all the walkers be slaughtered for everyone’s safety, but these were your friends and family. your father had explained these people were merely ailing, and that once he found a way to treat them, they would return to their previous state, a notion you were becoming to doubt. yet, you still held to a sliver of hope that your mother and your brother could be saved. rick came to confront you about this revelation when you were returning from the chicken coop, “you knew the entire time? and you didn’t say anything?” the question angered you, and for the first time since he had arrived, you were not so enamored by his charm. you answered that your father knew his best how to handle his affairs and went about your daily routine of chores, but you would be distracted as you picked root vegetables and swept the kitchen floor.

╰┈➤ it was the next morning you woke to the sound of gunfire and wailing, terrified, you hastily pull on your leather boots and head outside to find your father’s barn full of walkers, its old wood tattered by bullets and the rotten corpses of family and friends left on the gritty dirt. shane walsh had decided to take matters into his own hands and kill every walker in the barn. you collapsed seeing beth cradling your mother’s barely recognizable corpse. rick would rush to get you to your feet, trying desperately to reassure you, but you pushed him aside and crawled to your sister’s side. when your mother’s corpse began to twitch and her jaw hung open, growling, she reached out to grip beth with thin claws, rick would raise his pistol and shoot her in the head. you then came to grasp what a walker truly was, they were not alive nor sick, that creature who attempted to kill your sister was not your mother, your mother was dead, your brother was dead, the corpses you saw were a monstrous husk of what your loved ones once were.

╰┈➤ your father would disappear from the farm, presumably to return to alcohol to cope, and beth was left in a catatonic state. you stayed in the farmhouse, isolating yourself as you tried to come to terms with what had occurred. it was later that evening when there was a gentle knock on your bedroom door, you were surprised to open it and reveal a rather fatigued rick grimes, standing there with a furrowed brow and a slight frown. he asked if he could come inside and you let him in. you donned only a lace nightgown that fell right below your knee and your long hair was worn loose, tumbling about your shoulders. “i wanted to say how sorry i am for what went down today. i might have been wary about the barn situation, but what shane did… that was no way to handle this.” you were silent for a minute, then told him that he was right about the walkers, they weren’t sick, they weren’t alive, and you couldn’t comprehend how her father didn’t know that. you questioned if he was perhaps in denial, unable to deal with his wife and son’s passing. rick was uncertain himself, but assured you that regardless of any mistakes your father made, he loved you and your sisters dearly. with tears welling in your eyes, rick would instinctively pull you in for an embrace in an attempt to console you, an act that was unexpected, but not unwelcome by any means.

╰┈➤ when he pulled away, you bid him farewell and wished him a good night, kissing him lightly on the cheek before he left. he smiled at you, “i’ll have your father back at home before dawn.” his gaze lingering on you before he headed for the doorway. maggie happened to come to check on you as rick left, he acknowledged her with a nod and headed for the staircase. your sister cast you a harsh glare, saying while she trusted you and rick, you should be cautious in such treacherous times, that others might not see their relationship as so innocent, especially his wife. you didn’t say anything, maggie gave you one last bit of advice before leaving, “don’t let a married man in your room at night.”

a/n: i apologize if this was a little light on the romance, however if you guys to do wish to see multiple parts i promise there would definitely be more between rick and the greene sister! let me know if you want to see a certain era such as the prison arc or alexandria arc, i chose the greene farm for the setting as season two is my personal favorite from the walking dead. i also write for many other the walking dead characters so be sure to check out my masterlist and let me know if you have any requests! 🤍

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kisses4kaia · 1 year ago

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on my knees, foaming at the mouth, begging for more sub coryo

u guys are so funny oh my goodness😭 (slight au where sejanus did not die because we love him🥰) i got a bit carried away as you can see!! but that’s ok !!!! also, university!corio .. okok go read now plz enjoy and reblog :)

being the girlfriend of the winner to the plinth prize whilst simultaneously biting your tongue constantly was no easy feat.

every thoughtless, careless, borderline sexist, comment corio received from older men—and even some of your male peers—along the lines of, “oh, she’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? bet you keep her on her knees, huh?” (whilst you were right there, mind you!), infuriated you beyond belief and typically made corio tense up and awkwardly brush them off.

because no, corio did not always keep you on your knees. as a matter of fact, it was quite the opposite. you had him on his knees, every night, begging and pleading for a taste of you. and if he was a good boy, he would get one. you were assertive, not cruel.

you so badly wished you could shut them down, tell them exactly how it is, but you still loved and respected corio, and you knew what might happen to his reputation if that kind of secret got out.

so you kept on biting your tongue.

and tonight, corio’s arm is snaked around your torso and his large palm rests on the small of your back.

you’re at a elite party he was invited to, making friendly conversation with clemensia and sejanus while throwing witty comments back and forth with your boyfriend, when all of a sudden, one of crassus snow’s old friends come up to the both of you and it goes how you would expect; however, this time, something’s different.

this time, he laughs boisterously and nods, agreeing with the crude comment the man made. coriolanus shakes his hand and says “oh, absolutely. would you expect any less from my father’s son?”

you are fucking appalled, and the astounded expression on your face doesn’t do much to hide it.

when the old man whose name you didn’t bother to remember finally leaves, corio finally looks down at you to see your narrow eyes shooting daggers into his.

you say no words and storm off, and he’s hot on your trail. “baby? baby, hold up, slow down!”

you heed no mind to his words, and only stop your stampede when you find an unoccupied bedroom and drag him inside.

it was glamorous, which was to be expected, considering the host of the party was volumnia gaul; she always was one for dramatic flare. the ceiling was high and the walls were crowned in gold paint. the layout was simple, there was nothing but a queen-sized bed, an empty dresser, and bare vanity gracing its presence, all but proving that it was not it use, and perfectly fine for you to punish coriolanus in.

“what the fuck was that?” your voice is scornful and with the way your face twists up and contorts into a look of contempt, he knows he’s in for it.

he stumbles over his words, trying to think of a way he can phrase his words to deescalate the situation, lessen the blow for himself. “i-i’m sorry. i don’t know what i was thinking. please, honey. please forgive me. i’m begging you,”

the last phrase causes you to look up at him before smirking wickedly, “are you?”

you can see it dawn on him, the realization that you really are going to make him beg—the proper way, down on his knees.

he sighs ashamedly before letting his knees buckle, right one hitting the ground, the left following suit.

the slicked back hair on his scalp gleams perfectly underneath the warm overhead lighting the small chandelier provides, and his glossy, devastatingly blue, eyes are boring into yours as his bottom lip begins to quiver ever so slightly.

“i’m so, so, so, fucking, sorry. i’m so stupid, i just didn’t want him to think lowly of my fathers kin. i fucked up, i know, just, please, please, forgive me,”

he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears when he speaks and you can’t help but revel in how hot this all is. having one of the most powerful men in the capitol at your feet, pleading for you, you have to work hard in order to conceal the ache between your legs.

“show me, then.” you turn around on him and walk to the bed, sitting, before crossing your legs and leaning back, dangerous, siren eyes inviting corio to crawl to you.

he doesn’t even hesitate before getting on his hands and knees and desperately pawing at the ground, trying to get close to you again. and when he reaches your sat figure, he grabs your ankles, uncrossing them and pulling your high heels off slowly, all before kissing his way up your calf, and up to your mid-thigh, where the slit in your dress begins. he looks up at you pleadingly, expression reading ‘may i?’ and you could praise him for being so polite if he wasn’t enduring punishment.

you nod slightly, raising your hips just enough so corio could hike your dress up, bunching up at your waist.

his eyes stay on yours, watching you intently as he pulls your delicate, lacy, black and pink, panties down your smooth legs, before gently placing them on the floor next to him.

when you part your legs ever so slightly, the eyes boring into yours spark up with excitement and hope. he finally breaks eye contact when he shuts his eyes and lays his tongue flat against your cunt, lapping up the ego-boosting amount of arousal that’s drooling from your achy hole.

he’s so perfect for you, timing his transitions between fucking into you with his tongue and sucking on your clit just the way he’s learned you like just right, never lingering too long on one part of you.

at this point, you have your legs wrapped around his head tight, nearly restricting his facility to breathe, shamelessly moaning and praising his ministrations. “fuck, yes corio! oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum? yeah? so fucking pathetic,” you spit at him in between borderline moans so pornographic that you’re apprehensive that somebody outside of the four walls you’re in may hear you, but it doesn’t seem to bother you that much, considering the lack of you lowering your own volume.

and the sounds, the sounds are vile, fucking disgusting. his salivated muscle messily dragging all over your labia, his perfectly pouted lips making out with your pussy like he’s in love with it (he is). all of the insanely erotic factors of this moment don’t do anything to hold off your impending release, and with a weak cry of the boy beneath you’s name, sweet syrup leaks out from your tight hole lands onto corio’s anticipating tongue, and you can feel him smile against you at the taste of it.

he drinks it all down in no time and when he continues to lather his tongue all over your clit, not seeming to want to be done, you have to physically pull his head away from you as a result of overstimulation.

he frowns but when he sees the look on your face, your exhausted, satisfied, fucked-out, face, he has to bite his lip to contain his smile.

“i did good?” there’s a special twinkle to his eye, and you find it all-enamoring.

“so good,”

“you forgive me?”

“yes, but next time you pull some shit like that, i’ll jerk you off under the dinner table, you hear me?”

#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 !#angelnon 🤍#kai's got mail <3📑#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #corio angel 🪽★#tbosas smut #tbosas #thg smut #the hunger games #tom blyth smut #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #got just a tad bit carried away here.. oops!#kaia writes coriolanus

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10yrsyart · 1 year ago

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Connor needs more friends and Tron lost/ destroyed all his friends, so i think they should be buddies 😤👌 they have a lot in common, they can bond over their shared trauma hahah

(the crossover came to me in November and then i shot myself in the foot by deciding to do traditional instead of digital 😂 ...and it hasn't left me alone, so there may be more still)

DBH/ Tron AU

transcript:

Connor: -nothing so far. It appears to be a library archive of ENCOM's back up files. Copies of layouts and simulations. But no location of the GRID server or current status.

Markus: Alright Connor, keep me posted. And be careful.

Connor: I will, Markus.

Connor: (A corrupted security file..? Why-)

Connor: --W A K E U P--

Connor: I'm sorry. Your updated matrix was corrupt, so I had to access your base code.

Tron: Are you a User?

Connor: My name is Connor, I'm th- I'm an android.. a detective with New Jericho.

Tron: My name is Tron. To what do I owe a super computer for the rescue?

Connor: New Jericho received an anonymous tip about the existence of ISOs in ENCOM's dormant system, and I recovered your security program during my search. Perhaps you'd be able to help me?

Tron: I cannot condone any program, or AI for that matter, actively working to harm the Users or ISOs.

Connor: That's not our intent, I promise you.

Tron: ...Very well. On one condition.

Connor: Yes?

Tron: ..I'm an old program, Connor. Would you tell me.. how the User world has changed?

Connor: (smiles)

(BONUS)

Tron: Connor! It's good to see you.

Connor: Hello, Tron.

Tron: How are you?

Connor: I'm well. I was telling my friend Hank about you and the date of your origin. And he said, “For pete's sake, kid, what'cha doin with all us old guys? Ya gotta get out more, get some sun.”

Tron: He sounds like he would have enjoyed one of MY User friends.

Connor: Maybe if he knew who you were, Hank would feel differently-

Tron: NO... no, I'd rather keep my anonymity. It's better that way..

#detroit: become human #connor rk800 #dbh connor #tron #tron 1982 #tron legacy #dbh markus #comic page #comics #traditional art #sketchbook comic #my art #long post.#DBHTronAU

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irisintheafterglow · 7 months ago

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to tell you is too scary (so I'll just say something else)

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: lizzy mcalpine - "pancakes for dinner"

summary: nightmares don't usually translate to reality, but you call sakusa for the first time in years. just to be safe.

wc: 1k

cw/tags: gn!reader and post-timeskip!sakusa, nightmare about a plane crash but nothing descriptive, angst/comfort with happy ending, childhood friends to lovers (??), dialogue-driven, he hates everyone but you

note: yayy first @ficsforgaza gift post for @froggiewonder17 !! i tried out a different layout for the top section of this post, lmk if y'all like it! thank you again for donating to help palestinian families, i hope you like this :)) my f4g masterpost can be found here!

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated!

Your thumb trembles over the call button next to his contact, hovering and waiting for some unseen force to make you stop. Your hand keeps shaking, no matter how hard you try to stop it; the ravaged skin of your cuticles is stained with dried blood from your constant picking and scratching. Dread crashes again in a wave and you find yourself trapped under the water, gasping for air that wasn’t being inhaled. With a knot in your lungs, instinct takes over and taps your phone.

The three ascending notes of the phone dialing his number sound far away and you unexpectedly heave out a choked sob. He’d probably changed his number or deleted yours. Maybe he would simply glance at the unknown caller ID and ignore it entirely, returning to his drink with all his teammates at the bar. You didn’t know him anymore.

You didn’t know him anymore.

Your palm slams onto the red circle and you curl into as tight of a ball as you can muster, disappearing into the corner of your bedroom. It’s stupid, calling him because of the first night terror you’d had in a decade. When you were kids, he was always your first call when your eyes flew open. I’m with you, I’ve got you, he said. He guided you when adrenaline turned into anxiety, when the void outside your window was unfathomably dark. He’d stay until your breathing evened into a sleeping rhythm and wouldn’t hang up until your phone died or you woke up the next morning. He was there every time you were drowning, and your soul didn’t know what to do without its safety ring except sink,

and sink,

and sink…

INCOMING CALL.

CALLER ID: Kiyoomi💛💚

You stare at your phone screen illuminating the blankets like a beacon. Blinking once, then twice, you wait for it to disappear like a hallucination or a trick of your psyche. It doesn’t, and when you have half the mind to reach for your phone, the screen disappears. You’d missed the call. Maybe it was a trick of the mind?

(1) MISSED CALL - Kiyoomi💛💚

INCOMING CALL.

CALLER ID: Kiyoomi💛💚

You’re faster this time, snatching your phone from the covers and swiping the “answer call” button to the side. It’s quiet on the other end of the line for a moment, but he’s there. He always was, wasn’t he?

“...Omi?”

“Hey,” he says gently. There’s faint noise in the background of where he is, sounds of conversations and telecom announcements. Even with the sound of rolling wheels, he’s still clear. “You called.” Fifty minutes away, Kiyoomi imagines you nodding in the silence, maybe wiping a stray tear with the corner of your fitted sheet. “You’re safe?” You hum a shaky mhmm, still unable to force out any words. He murmurs your name, coaxing you out of your tight ball. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I’m safe,” you reply after a breath. Based on your voice alone, he could tell the night terror happened no more than five minutes before you called. “I just–I’m sorry if I–”

“I’m here if you want to talk about it,” he reassures you, immediately shooting Atsumu a withering glare when he tries to dance up to Kiyoomi’s less busy part of the airport. The MSBY team’s international flight was canceled an hour ago, but he was still trying to figure out if he wanted to stay with his teammates at a closer hotel. The present situation felt, literally and metaphorically, like you were calling him home.

“There was a plane,” you say in a broken whisper. He strains to hear your crackling voice and shakes his head adamantly when Bokuto and Hinata try to join Atsumu’s antics. Now was not the time to fuck around with him. “You were on it, and something went wrong, and it–There was an accident and…I just had to watch it happen. I had to watch it happen and I couldn’t do anything.” Your voice cracks and trails off, making Kiyoomi’s chest twist like a wrung towel. Your friendship was strained after Kiyoomi’s second Nationals, fading completely until there was nothing left when you graduated except photobooth strips from third grade. He kept your number, though, in case something like this ever happened. In case you needed him again or he needed you, he never decided.

“Are you–are you home right now?” Another broken mhmm. “Can I see you?”

“You’re not overseas?”

“I was supposed to be, as of an hour ago,” he admits, running an exasperated hand through his curls and straightening his track jacket collar. A flash of light catches the corner of his eye. Cameras, cameras, cameras, always. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, continuing, “But, the flight got delayed and ultimately canceled because of maintenance issues. We’re probably gonna have to postpone the game.”

“I’m sorry, Omi.” You hear him shrug in that indifferent manner that always seemed to come down when he was with you. All his walls, actually, came down when he was with you.

“I don’t care, honestly. My question still stands.” He swallows thickly, begging you to say yes for both of your sakes. When his phone showed your contact photo for the seven seconds you called, it awakened grief in him he thought he’d buried years ago. By all accounts, Sakusa Kiyoomi desperately missed you. “I can be there in an hour. I’ll take a car, I don’t care how much it costs.”

“It’s–it’s fine, you really should stay with your team and rest,” you mutter, always the selfless one worrying about his well-being. You were too good to him, letting him cancel plans for training camps and tournaments, always letting him go. “I don’t want you missing another flight if it comes up.”

Too bad that, when it came to you, Kiyoomi had decided long ago he’d always be selfish.

“Say you need me and I will be there.” You don’t hesitate.

“I need you here, Omi,” you murmur. He’s gone in seconds–mind, body, and soul. His body acted instinctually, running on nothing else but the sole purpose of getting home to you. With a wad of cash and an Olympic athlete’s intellect calculating the fastest way to reach you, he vows that you would never need to say you needed him again.

Because he’d say he needed you instead.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#fics for gaza #sakusa x you #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #kiyoomi x you #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n

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the-once-ler-in-superjail · 8 months ago

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CHAPTER 36: The Asylum - Part 2

Finally here, sorry this one took so long, we both got really busy this time but it's here!

Lineart/cleanup, flats & writing- @wiggybe

Layout/roughs, shading/lighting & writing- @self-made-madman

(TW: Mental illness/health/asylums.)

PART2

Once-ler: *He holds the Warden in his arms, relieved to have another moment alone with him, knowing that they're going to get out of here and that people are following his orders. At least he can have his glasses, they're just glasses, prisoners get to wear their glasses because they're visually impaired, this should be no different. He sniffs and wipes his tears with his hand, whispering.* I love you too. *Kisses the Warden's head and sighs out, hooking his chin over his head and bundling him up in his arms.* You're going to be okay, we- we're going to get you out. *He can't let him down.*

Warden: *His eyes shut, and as he floats in the vague numbness of what's been done to him, he absorbs all of Oncie's love, the feeling of his arms, the scent of his clothes and the way his voice vibrates through his chest. It helps to calm him, more than anything else ever could, but there's an instinctive part of him ready to have it all ripped away.*

Dr. Zazzerzump: *She strides straight into the room and states in a simple, curt voice.* Mr. Once-ler. *She has the air of a headteacher who won't be suffering nonsense, but because she isn't a blustering, loud older man, and hasn't brought the chaos of a crowd with her, she doesn't cause the same flinching reaction in the Warden as everything else. To him, this is just one more thing to trust Oncie to handle for him.*

Once-ler: *Pulls his head back from his boyfriend and looks over to the new doctor walking into the room. He knows this lady to be the woman in charge here. Good, that means he can sort this out properly rather than having to slap drones around. He doesn't get up though; he won't leave Edmund unless it's necessary, and he doesn't care how he looks holding him. If anything it only shows that he means the man no harm and that they do share a relationship.* Hm. *His eyes meet hers and he lets out an acknowledging grunt.* Doctor... *He looks her up and down as for a moment her name escapes him, but he does know all the names in charge of his cities' institutions.* Doctor Zazzerzump. *That's the one. He frowns, glancing around at the other nurses as they follow in behind her as if he's pretending to wonder where the Warden's glasses are, like he's making a point. Two male doctors join also, including Snickberry-Shoo, who all keep their distance.* Thank you. I requested the nurses bring this man’s glasses to me, where are they?

Dr. Zazzerzump: *Her eyes flit to the way the Once-ler is holding the patient only once, to take in the information and judge it. It's inappropriate, maybe, but it is proof that they know each other. Or proof that the patient has been so well-drugged that he doesn't know what's happening. Well, the Once-ler is a sane man, so it's presumably the first one. And yet, policy is policy for a reason.* The patient is in here because he proved to be a danger to himself and others. We can arrange for his glasses to be reconsidered, but he cannot have them back just because you asked... *She searches for a word that isn't rude.* 'nicely'. I will have the administrators put in a request, and he will be re-evaluated for his tendencies.

Warden: *He curls tighter, pushing his bare face against the Once-ler's chest so he doesn't have to see the world without his filter.*

Once-ler: *Feels a spike of adrenaline in his chest when he's refused, the thought of having to wait making his frustration build all over again.* That's not soon enough. Can't you make an exception?! Look at him, he needs them. Even prisoners don't have their own glasses confiscated. What could be so bad about him having his when I can supervise?

Dr. Zazzerzump: They could break - he could break them - and then we have glass shards, sharp wire, and an unpredictable man in the same room. The hospital would be liable if any harm came to either of you, even - *she anticipates the potential solution he might offer* if you were to sign a waiver. I'm afraid your friend must follow the rules like everyone else in the secure wing - no special treatment. But we can have him seen by our resident optician if necessary.

Once-ler: You’re already causing harm to him by treating him like this. *Breathes in a sharp, frustrated breath as he clutches onto Edmund harder. He knew these were the reasons. He doesn't care. Edmund is more dangerous to himself without the glasses. Besides, it’s not like he isn’t already drugged up to his eyeballs, bound in a straight-jacket, and not being watched over by a sensible and powerful man.* Don't you have security cameras here for the same reason? Just keep a closer eye on him for god sake! *He knows that what he's asking is exactly special treatment, but why shouldn't he? Parole exists so that those facing trial can pay to be in a comfortable environment while they wait. He raises an eyebrow.* I'll sign whatever the hell you like, if any harm came to either of us I'd take that responsibility on myself and see to it that no repercussions fall on the hospitals reputation. I can do that. *He tilts his head to the other side, frowning harder.* On the other hand, however, I can't promise the same should my requests be refused. *Hisses as one hand releases Edmund to slip into an inner pocket inside his jacket to fine his cheque book.* Fuck sake, how much do you want for them? *Looks at her like she just personally hurt him* He’s not dangerous, not with me and not right now, look at him. I’ll pay you extra if we could just arrange to have him monitored so that he can have what he really nee-

Dr. Zazzerzump: I cannot be bought, Mr. Once-ler. *As corruptible as the bribe of money can make people, sometimes those with the a more selfish agenda than just greed can be more malicious.* *She doesn’t care for money, she cares for maintaining an old archaic institute that she holds power over. Taking small wins, keeping control over anyone in her immediate vicinity, and insisting on her old fashioned ideals. And it just so happens the vulnerable patients in this place make those objectives a lot easier. She remains totally unmoved, as cold as steel, although she does for a moment feel a skip in her chest at the thought of more money towards their operations here. Still, she will have no preferential treatment for the wealthy or connected, even if the town's founder himself starts writing a check. She doesn’t quite realise that anyone, poor or wealthy, known or noone, would be willing to give up everything in their possession for the people they love. She holds a fundamental belief, a false ‘moral’ virtue about herself, that those of the mentally impaired are a danger to be hidden rather than human beings to be treated, despite having little to no modern research supporting her biases. There is no grey area that could suggest that the pain of others might warrant an empathetic reconsideration of the ‘rules’, she just holds onto these old ideas being ‘correct’. It’s as if Thneedville, and the people in it, are a product of a time where mindsets like this were the modern standards.* As I said, we cannot sign our duty of care away.

Warden: *He shifts, yielding as easily as a doe when Oncie's hand releases him to pull out his cheque book, but never stops gripping onto him. It's all going over his head, whoever that voice belongs to. Oncie is fighting a battle above the surface of the water while he sinks down below, and all he can do to avoid going (further) mad with fright is to hold on and make sure he never leaves him by himself. Right now the world is very simple - everything outside of their arms wants to hurt him or worse, abandon him to his own mind. Everything inside their arms is safe and loves him.*

Once-ler: *Sneers at her through his teeth in a low voice.* Ev-ery-thing can be bought. *He lets her speak, and as she does, he removes his thneed from his neck as if he's already made up his mind about something, not needing to hear the rest of it- because one can’t reason with a person who’s already accepted their own world view as fact. One can’t engage debate, even the most civil, with a person who has already made up their mind. The only thing that matters now is protecting his own pack. Something about the way this woman speaks is making it both harder for him to breathe the fire he usually does and at the same time makes him want to burn it all down with even more fury than when he spoke to the previous doctor. It isn't just a bigger dog biting at a smaller yappy dog, it's a fox VS a snake, both fighting for the fallen rabbit, and he's met a snake like this before. Thankfully the two women are nothing alike, but that doesn't stop the vitriolic, rebellious feeling in his gut needing to prove her wrong. He hisses again, almost scoffing at the irony of her words.* Your ‘duty of care’… *He glances to the Warden in sympathy, then back to her with far less.* Why is he so out of his mind?

Dr Zazzerzump: *Adjusts her glasses.* Is that a trick question, Mr Once-ler? All of the patients here are ‘out of their mind’, that’s what this place is for. We haven’t begun analysis or treatment on this particular patient yet, but he’s here for a reason-

Once-ler: That’s not what I meant! *He steams. Treatment of this sort has nothing to do with the rationality of the person involved, they shouldn’t be strapped up, sedated, and left in a cold corner for someone to find them- if someone ever comes to find them- without sympathetic care.* I meant why is he so sedated? Why is he all drugged up out of his mind?

Dr Zazzerzump: He was acting out, Mr Once-ler. a danger to everybody. We sedate all of our patients. It makes them feel better and it makes it easy for us to handle them and treat them. *Of course, she has no understanding of how these patients might truly feel, she’s just trying to come across as caring to hide that all she really cares about is the efficiency of her control here.*

Once-ler: *He almost screams out lout to her; ‘Even when he’s already in a straightjacket?!’ But he doesn’t, it wouldn’t help. He looks down at Edmund who can barely hear this conversation through water, he just knows Oncie is there somewhere and is trying to protect him, but if the man wasn’t here then the confusion would only be making him panic more as he looses an extra layer of stability and understanding.* He’s not comfortable at all, he doesn’t feel better at all, he’s scared. *Maybe he was being a menace, maybe he did deserve to be brought somewhere, but then shouldn’t he have been brought to a jail cell for disorderly conduct? Somewhere he can be held for safety reasons, call someone he knows, speak to a lawyer and at least be reviewed before taken to an asylum? Who authorised that he be brought here? Were they called before the police and just snapped him up to fill one of their patient cells?… He had no idea this sort of conduct was going on here, in his own city. This is old, archaic stuff. For as abstract as Thneedville is, sometimes he does feel that it’s oddly stuck in the 1970’s, as if it’s a product of a mind that’s frame of reference is a world straight out of the late 60’s. Maybe after all of this is over he really should review this place top to bottom officially and write up a report, not just because he’s been personally hurt by it and it’s employees, but because there might be things here he’s not looked at, that could seriously do with reforming.*

Dr Zazzerzump: *Says nothing. She hasn't spared a second glance at Edmund, she's been too busy watching the angry man making his demands and she clearly has no intention of treating these patients like human beings.* If you have no further requirements, I shall leave you two in peace. Visiting hours close at 6.

Once-ler: *Almost hisses at the way she ignores his genuine concerns.* That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?! *He huffs, and in a sweep of his tailcoats, he turns back to the Warden and strides strictly over to him. He glares over his shoulder to the doctor.* I’m not going anywhere, I’m staying here with him.

Dr Zazzerump: *Suddenly spikes. He can’t stay here! That’s an obstacle between herself and the power she holds over everyone in the place.* Visiting hours close at 6 Mr-

Once-ler: I heard you! And I don’t care. If you won’t let me take him out then I have no other option than to stay with him overnight while I make preparations to have him removed.

Dr Zazzerzump: *Sneers* Mr Once-ler if you do not leave, I will have to have you removed by security.

Once-ler: *Turns around and folds his arms.* Who do you think your security is funded by? Who do you think your very institute is funded by? *He squints and tilts his head.* The Thneedville government? *He scoffs at her*. You think your governments have more power than corporations? Where did you hire your security, from the government or from a company?

Dr Zazzerzump: *Remains quiet and clenches her jaw.*

Once-ler: That’s what I thought. *He tilts his head to the door.* Go on, call them, tell them to remove me… If you really think they’ll listen to your orders over mine. *Fine. He’ll play her games of ‘procedure’ and ‘protocol’, she can make this harder for him as much as she wants, that doesn’t mean she’s going to enjoy it.*

Dr Zazzerzump: *Her icy demeanour starting to crack, she tries to hold herself together, keep her composure, refrain from forming shaking fists with her hands at her sides. By the second, the Once-ler is revealing to her what little power she has, despite her doing her best to hold onto it.* Fine. *He hisses under her breath.*

Once-ler: *Turns his back to return to the Warden.* You understand then. Good. I’ll stay here with him for as long as I need. *He won’t leave until Edmund is in his custody, until he can take him out of this dreadful place. Every part of him just wants to drag him our right now, hire his own security, pay theirs off, rip him out of the straight jacket and take him home, but the amount of chaos that that would cause in both the short and long term just isn’t worth the trauma that it’d have on Edmund. For one thing he’d need to leave him to get it all done that fast, and he couldn’t bear to leave him with them- who knows what they would do while he’s unsupervised? The manic of all the action and panic could have a terrible effect on him, while doctors are grabbing at them, large security men are shouting and the Thneedville public are watching him like a spectacle. It’d be cruel to drag him through that. It’d also cause more problems in the long term for them both if if he acted so unofficially. The best thing he can do is be sensible and assertive, plan his escape right by his side, make sure it’s as easy as it can be, and never leave him alone so long as he’s still in here. He’ll need important files and equipment to do it, and that’ll take time to arrange that if he wants to stay with him the whole time, but it can be achieved. Anything can be achieved by the Once-ler. He leans down by his boyfriend and tucks the thneed into Edmund's bound arms across his front so that he can hide his face in it. He leans into his ear.* I'm not going anywhere. *He straightens up and turns to the doctors, standing between them and Edmund and acting as a barrier while looking incredibly tall at his full height and the extra tower of his hat.*

Warden: *He curls up when Oncie gives him the thneed, and the scent of butterfly milk and truffula tufts proves to the animal in the back of his mind that he's still safe. Still, he shivers when he feels Oncie pull away, and buries himself in the fluff, focusing on the gentle way Oncie spoke to him as his sluggish mind tries to hold on to whatever it can through the grey and depressing mire. He doesn't even remember what he did to deserve being locked up in here.*

Once-ler: I didn't get to where I am today, to owning all of your jobs today, under the false idea that 'not everything can be bought'. *His hand forms a fist by his side, the other one pointing a sharp finger.* I've been nice, I’ve played your game, now you're gonna listen to me. This man is leaving this building no later than tomorrow.

Dr Zazzerzump: *Opens her mouth to speak*-

Once-ler *His index finger and thumb pinch together before anyone can interject, as if making a ‘zip it’ gesture.* I don't wanna hear anymore goddamn bullshit recited from ancient documents! You can either make this easier for me or you can make it harder on yourselves, either way I'm getting what I want. I don't care what strings I have to pull, he's leaving tomorrow. You wanna know why? Because if you won't comply, then I can have all of you replaced with people who will by just making three phone calls. So it makes no difference to me other than the fact you're wasting my time!

[The nurses behind the head Dr Zazzersump and take a step back, they straighten up with a spike of adrenaline in their chests, listening to the orders like soldiers. Dr Zazzerzump blinks at him, momentarily surprised and panic setting in at that threat, which quickly turns into cold anger to hide it. She looks around her staff and can feel her own sense of control slowly crumble as the medical teams have their attention stolen away from her by the Once-ler. The man has always been very good at claiming almost anything as his own.]

Once-ler: *Starts to count on his fingers. Without shouting, now sounding more like a very strict, growling army general. Suddenly they all feel like they work for him.* I want his discharge signed. I want his duty of care handed to me. I want his clothes ready. I want him off whatever shit you've been shoving down his throat. I want his goddamn glasses! And I want it all done by 3pm tomorrow because that's how fast it will take me to fuck up your whole system here and make it mine. *If he were an animal, the hackles of his fur would be rising and his teeth would be bearing, the gruffness of his voice growling through with that last word.* Every single one of you is going to be bought because all of these procedures you're following can be bought, so you better not waste any of my goddamn time once I slam that gavel down onto your precious procedures and shove them in my back pocket! *Points a finger towards each of them.* Get it all done by 3pm tomorrow and not a second later, because The Once-ler will not be late.

[The frightened shocked doctors and nurses behind Dr Zazzersump all stare at her with gormless speechlessness. They’re ready to skitter away and do everything he’s asked without question, because, SHIT, they need to get on this fast to have it all ready by tomorrow. Dr Zazzerzump herself is sweating, and every bitter bone in her body wishes she wasn’t. How dare he turn the tables on them and make such unrealistic demands with such a short deadline, they’d have to drop everything to get this done by then.]

Dr. Zazzerzump: *She attempts to straighten up at the same rate that the Once-ler rises, meeting his eyes and paying cold attention but not interrupting him now he’s on a roll. She holds rigid against his threats and swallows, but as she notices her staff becoming more restless at the mention of procedures and paper work, she can’t find a reason to oppose it. What he's asking for is technically reasonable, if unorthodox, so he’s trapped her in a dead end, all her talk of procedures turned back on her, and thrown the threat of a deadline at them all. Thank god that it is reasonable though, in the tightest possible way of tip-toeing around all the orthodox rules, because by this point not even she wants to deal with what wrath he might bring if she refuses him again. At the end of the day, he owns this town more than anyone else, more than she owns this asylum- regrettably.*

Warden: *He hears a man yelling, and like a dreamstate he simultaneously recognises the voice as his Oncie, and expects it to belong to a very different, much more violent man - because that's the man who would normally be in a locked cell like this with him unable to fight back. It’s confusing as his hearts instinct battles his learned neurological instinct. He curls further, clenching his eyes shut even tighter and reminding himself beneath all the numb and rubbery haze that Oncie is protecting him, Oncie will come for him, and that despite the sound of that powerful voice reminding him of things more dangerous, maybe it’s only so powerful because for once it’s actually protecting him. It does sound a lot like his strong Oncie after all. He’s safe.*

Once-ler: *Pulls in a deep breath and grabs the lapels of his jacket, pulling on them to straighten them. Clears his throat.* I will stay with him here overnight, I will keep the button alarm on me should I need to make anymore requests, no-one is to come near him unless it's for very specific medical reasons I'm unqualified to perform. Food, drink, medication, cleaning, anything else will all be handled by myself, and I want him weaned off the medication ASAP. *He raises an eyebrow.* You better hurry up then.

[The nurses scatter like a flock of pigeons, forgetting for a moment that Dr Zazzerzump needed to give an official before they can, but the Once-ler is right, they do need to hurry up if they want it all done on time. They need to turn the place upside down to avoid his wrath if he’s ready to leave tomorrow at 3pm and they’re late for it. How can the man work so fast when there’s only one of him and he can’t leave a cell? They have an entire team of people but they’re the ones frantically panicking for a deadline.)

Dr Zazzerzump: *Behind her, the doctors and nurses have backed off skittishly and darted off to work, trapped between the demands of two different dangerous animals who could both ruin their lives if they make a wrong move, but the bigger one clearly won. After a pause to collect her thoughts, Dr. Zazzerzump clears her throat and raises her hand to them. They’ve already made up their minds who they’re taking orders from now, but she throws out an official instruction, just to maintain a semblance of composure.* *Clears her throat.* Yes!- Mh.. Do as he says. For 3pm tomorrow.

*They scatter out of the door like spilled marbles, leaving the two alone. Then Dr. Zazzerzump continues.*

Dr. Zazzerzump: *Bitterly* The medication is a temporary sedative; it will wear off by morning and I shall make a note that no further doses will be required. There will be a nurse on call to arrange for overnight accommodations. *Grimaces, but tries to maintain professional. The decision has already been made now, all she can do is go along with it and appear as reasonable as she can to avoid receiving that harsh report.* Should you require anything further, the staff will assist you. Is that everything, Mr. Once-ler?

Once-ler: *Finally seems like he might consider withdrawing his claws the moment people start following his orders, especially when the woman confirms it to her staff. The fact that she doesn’t even question his power, influence or ability to have everything done by tomorrow in order to take Edmund out, goes a long way to placating him. He’d have really started ruining lives, he doesn’t care who the head doctor in this place is, if she’d said something like ‘we can’t guarantee, sir, that the changes you claim to make will be completed by then, if at all, and so signing documents and making preparations for rules that aren’t already in place would be a misdirection of time as well as possibly setting us up for illegal- blah blah blah.’ Good thing they all know when they’re in the jaw of the lion.* Yes. You can leave us alone.

*Dr Zazzerzump leaves with a slight twist in her expression, letting out a silent frustrated, but almost relieved that it’s over, sigh of relief. As she and the rest of the staff move away down the corridor and the door swings shut with a heavy thunk, she can be heard issuing clipped commands to everyone else. She tries not to rush too much, because rushing tends to make mistakes, but these things will move quick.*

Once-ler: *When everyone leaves and they’re finally left in private again, he turns back to Edmund, curled up on the floor, and all the anger sighs out of him (at least for now). Drops back down to his knees and leans over him, places his hand on his shoulder.* Edmund…? *His eyebrows knot up.* Edmund it’s me, they’re all gone.

Warden: *He pulls slightly tighter around himself when he feels the pressure of someone's footsteps on the floor beside him. The pressure on his shoulder doesn't make him jump - it can't – but he feels a spike of fear, in automatic self defence he tries to strike like a cornered rat and bite the hand. In reality though, he just manages to turn slowly and gasp. And then Oncie speaks, and he forgets everything except that his knight in shining armour is here.*

Warden: *He cracks open his eyes and looks up at Oncie, his brow creased with worry, desperate to get himself moving enough to talk but unable to force it.* O-okay. *He needs those bright blue eyes so much, but they're so bright he can barely look at them. His pupils visibly shrink against them. He shuts his eyes tight again with distress, hating the grey and how close he is to everything terrible around him.*

*This is so much. The cogs in his brain try to turn, and he thinks that he wants to break the bad feelings with a joke, or a flippant comment - it's not a conscious thought, but it's what the instincts in him tell him to do. He forces himself to speak again, his voice a hushed whisper.* ...I’m s- I'm really... Really scared.

Once-ler: *Sees the way Edmund almost tries to flinch and his eyebrows knot up harder. He can't even protect himself, it's so sad. Then that recognition comes and he swallows, his stomach fluttering with sad little butterflies but fluttering nonetheless.* I- I know, I know you are. *Sighs out and immediately drops down to wrap his arms around him and bundle him up again. He knew he'd get nowhere asking for them to release him from the straight jacket, not if they won’t even let him have his glasses because he's too unpredictable apparently. He was hoping he might be able to fumble with it himself once alone, but as he hugs him and feels around the back of it, he feels the padlocks and realises that not just anyone outside of the wrapped patient himself is free to mess with it. He mentally sighs, but just becomes more kind and gentle in response.* It's okay if you're scared. *His voice becomes thick but he holds himself together.* It's okay, but you don't have to be scared now, because- because I'm here s- so you're safe, and nothing is going to hurt you or scare you anymore. *Cups his hand around the back of his head and pulls him into his shoulder, and plants a long pressed kiss into his head.*

Warden: *His arms shuffle what little they can in an unconscious attempt to reach out and hold onto Oncie, but the best he can do is curl up as close as he can into the hug. Eyes shut, surrounded by his scent, he listens to the words and slowly translates them - he has to wait for each word to pop into meaning like bubbles from the ocean floor. His body relaxes a little bit, unable to protect himself anymore - no powers, no strength, not even his special filter that means nothing is real and nothing really matters. Suddenly everything matters, and it all wants to hurt him. Except Oncie. He's still here, he didn't leave forever. He sniffs, still tearful, and nuzzles into his shoulder and the thneed still tangled up between them. That kiss sends a wave of relief and love through him, and he realises without surprise that he's crying again. He shuffles again against the jacket, not enough to be considered 'a struggle', but miserably testing what it is. In a slightly thicker voice of his own, he asks,* What did I do? *He's obviously in trouble, he obviously did something, because he's in prison. If he wasn't so addled he'd be mad on his own behalf and flailing about it again, but all he can figure right now is that everyone's upset with him except Oncie, and that doesn't feel great.*

Once-ler: *Opens his eyes wide when he's asked what he did wrong, and he doesn't know how to answer. Even if the Warden wasn't sedated and put up a good fight, he'd crack eventually. He might go feral for a bit, but these people are… ‘trained’ to handle a dangerous, damaged psych patient like him. He's the Warden to himself, he's The Once-ler's soulmate to the man holding him, but the reality is that to them he's just another severe case like so many other names on a list and fading faces in the facility rooms. Their treatment of him is completely wrong, but he’s not a stable man, that’s the reality, and right now there's a lot of reality, there isn't a lot of Edmund. A runt might try to put up a good fight with it's teeth and it's ratty snarls, but in the end it'll still drop down under the teeth of a dog bigger and scarier than it, when it’s adrenaline has worn off and it knows it can’t put up a fight, when it's instincts tell it how small it really is and that it should just conserve it's energy and lie down. Edmund, at his heart, is a meek man. The thought of him being lost here, hiding fearfully in the corner of a room away from the dogs that beat the defences out of him, just like his father did, is the worst nightmare he ever could have conjured up.*

Once-ler: *His arms grip around him tighter, tighter than the jacket, and the way he feels him weakly squirm makes his heart break. He pulls back just enough to see his face, hand still cupping the back of his head, so it isn't heavy for Edmund to hold up.* Ohh... *His eyebrows knot.* It was just... *He doesn't even know what to say. He glances down his body and starts to shuffle them so they can rest against the wall in the corner of the room where it's most secluded.* You must be cold, let me help. *He shuffles up into the corner, carrying his boyfriend slowly with him, and takes the thneed back. He lets him rest between his legs against his front while he stretches out the thneed and turns it into a blanket. His heart is pounding and he's trying to swallow down an emotional lump, then he lays the thneed blanket over Edmund and then shuffles out of his own green tailcoat and lays that over him too to create a second, heavier layer to keep the warmth in. Pressed between Oncie's front, then the thneed and Oncie's weighted jacket, he wraps his arms around him and hugs him to his chest.* There. There, that's better.

Warden: *When Oncie cups his face, he looks up into his eyes as best he can and tries to understand what he did. Deep down, beneath all of his delusions, the current sedatives, the self-denial and the fantasies, he knows he's doing bad things. But if he didn't do those bad things, he'd be doing something even worse by letting down the terrible spirit of his father. To be good he has to be a good prison warden, and a good prison warden is vicious, cruel and controlling. But, because he's always been an empathetic baby, he knows that to be vicious, cruel and controlling makes people hate you and makes you a bad person. He can't win. There is no condition where everyone likes him and is pleased with him, so the only conclusion he has ever been able to come to is that he's just an inherently bad human being. But that's okay if he's louder than everyone else, insists to everyone else that he isn’t until he’s *delusional*, and tries to make them happy occasionally by making things fun. That's why he includes the prisoners in his science fairs and vacations and car races – bad, boring wardens wouldn’t do that, right?*

*His expression breaks, tears filling his eyes as his mouth quivers and devastation spreads across his features. When he was a little boy, the scariest thing in the world was the thought of being abandoned for being bad. Now, here, it feels like reality itself is doing just that - he's been shoved out the way and left behind. He clamps up and tries not to make a sound, in case that's bad too.*

*He's completely pliable as Oncie moves them, trying to help but he can only move his legs and he can't move them much. When they settle, though, and he's covered in layers of warm weight and held all tightly in his protector's arms, reality feels that bit further away and he remembers that he's not been abandoned. Not fully, not by everyone.* *With a little bleat, he nods. It is better. His bare feet push against the cold floor beneath the blankets so that he's pushed against Oncie's front.* *After a moment, he finds the words to say.* Whatever I did... I- I didn't mean to... *That's a lie. But he'd do anything to be kept.*

Once-ler: *Feels his heart break when he sees the tears and tries to catch them with his thumb as he cups his cheek. He hugs him to his front, treasuring him like he's the only teddy-bear his parents have ever been able to afford, and clinging to him like a child hiding from the shadows in a wardrobe. Gasps at his words and whispers.* You didn't- It was an accide- it was a mistake- *He feels distinctly, innocently, devastated and sick to his stomach with guilt and worry, in an almost confused way that a juvenile would. As if he's at fault of doing something so bad to the younger kid living next door, who he often goes out to play with, but it's also his responsibility to take care of. But this time he convinced him to jump into the lake, climb too far up a tree, go too close to a wild animal, and it's his fault now that something terrible happened to him, and he's terrified of being told off by both their mom’s. So he just hides in the woods with him, trying to fix it and not knowing how, and just telling him that he's okay and everything will be fine, but he also feels sick with horror. His voice breaks.* But- but I'm going to fix it- I will! I'll fix it!

*He gasps as tears form in his own eyes and he curls around him. He's letting him down, he can't do anything right, he can't even get him out of this place in a city that be basically owns.* I- I'm so sorry- It's my fault. *His expression breaks down and he pulls him to his front, hooking his head over his shoulder and shaking it with guilt. He's useless. He can't even protect him from his own damn city.* I'm sorry, I'm s- so, so sorry, Edmund. I'm so sorry.

Warden: *He nuzzles against him, drying his tears on Oncie's front and pressing against him for safety until his muscles start to soften - he can't keep the effort up for very long, but he always stays hugged up in his arms. He lets out a soft hiccup when he hears that it was an accident, or a mistake, whatever it was. He can't remember how he ended up here - every memory is fuzzy and indistinct like a dream that fades faster the more he tries to grasp for it - but at least Oncie doesn't blame him. Right now that's the very final thing that matters, like the last star still burning in the sky. Everything else has failed, but Oncie is always there, and he never leaves him.*

*He doesn't quite understand when Oncie says he'll 'fix it'. He doesn't know what there is to fix, because prison is an inevitable force that can't be changed. It's like saying you'll fix a sunset. His eyes crack open again, wet eyelashes fluttering against his boyfriend's neck while his own dears don’t cease.* Hm? *The cogs try to turn again.* W-Why? *His voice is hushed, but it's still his usual loopy, lyrical lisp, with a quiver of sadness.* You're here. *That is the only thing that matters. The only thing.*

Once-ler: *Looks down at him with wet eyelashes too.* Because, well because you're still here too and I think it's my fault you are. *He sniffs and begins wiping the Warden's tears away with his hand, since he can't do it himself.* But- but like I said, I'll fix it. *He makes sure not to talk too quickly, to let the words sink in.* I'm going to take you back home, I'm going to make you feel better. It just- *he hiccups as another tear appears and he wipes it away on his shoulder,* It just won't be right now. But I'm not going anywhere, I'm staying here with you until I can make everything okay again- and then forever after that.

Warden: *He looks up at Oncie with half-lidded eyes, still tight enough in the corners that the middle-aged creases around them are visible, but more relaxed than they have been thus far. He blinks slowly when Oncie wipes his tears away, foggy from the sedatives, believing everything he says because he has no choice but to do so, and trusting him because how could he not? He knows in his heart that nobody should like him enough to be here, but Oncie is because they're in love.*

*His subconscious can't quite believe it when he's told they're going to get out of here, not because he doesn't trust Oncie but because he's never known a reality where a prison wasn't an ultimate and inescapable thing. If he was sober he'd believe him, but he can't right now. However, when he says he'll be with him forever 'after that'... something shifts. To hear that Oncie wants to be with him forever shakes up the foundations he otherwise fully believed in, and the idea that there might be a forever after this suddenly becomes plausible. His eyes widen just a little bit more - even as glassy as they are - and a smile slowly spreads across his face, welling up with hopeful, emotional, grief-stricken tears as raw feeling is able to bleed up through the sedation.* Ye... yeah? *He sounds so hopeful, and with the tone of a soldier wanting someone to keep talking to him as he bleeds out on the battlefield, his chest shuddering with emotional hiccups. Nuzzled up against him, able to feel his heartbeat and bury in his scent, looking up at him and hearing his voice - if he can't have his glasses, he can put a new barrier between himself and the rest of reality.*

Once-ler: *His heart breaks and clutches at the hope in the Warden's voice, seeing him smile makes some ray of hope bloom in him too. Nothing can stop the happiness that the Warden brings to the Once-ler when he smiles, no amount of sedatives or guilt, when the man shows that grin, shows the cute gap in his teeth and has that hope in his eyes, it can’t stop Oncie from smiling back to greet him. As his eyes well up again with painful love at the way the Warden’s overflow, he smiles a little too.* Ye-hes...* He almost sobs out silently, between his quivering, smiling lips. He sniffs, then leans in slowly, gently cups Edmunds cheek to tilt towards him, and presses his lips to his. The kiss lingers in softness, barely any pressure applied but the sentiment still clear. His arms squeeze him tenderly a little bit, and after he pulls away he gazes into his eyes and replies in a low voice.* Yes. I promise.

Warden: *He drinks in Oncie's smile like it's sunlight, fortifying him a little better and feeding that faith that everything is going to be alright. He can't envision what it might look like (which spooks him, because he has a very vivid imagination) but he believes that he'll feel better soon. Like a feedback loop, Oncie's returned smile only makes his bigger too. Then they kiss, and under the sedatives it feels like his stomach has erupted like an underwater volcano, something hot and wild and frantically desperate, dampened by a thick layer of vacuum, but unmistakeably there. It feels like he’s been kissed for the very first time, by the only person he’ll love for the rest of his life. It takes him a second to react before his lips twitch and then he's kissing back too - with a similar light pressure, but still very much a presence. Oncie is here, and Oncie loves him, he’s been saved. They draw back, and he looks up at him with utter trust, wide and glassy-eyed, but believing in him as the most powerful force of nature to exist. His eyes might be foggy, but his smile shines through for him.*

Once-ler: *Pulls away from the kiss and adores the smile on Edmunds face. He desperately needs that belief- because no-one else has ever believed in him. Strokes his thumb over his cheek as he cups his face and he gazes into his eyes, wiping away some more tears for his boyfriend. His eyebrows knot up as he blinks his own away and he sighs out sadly.* My little bunny... *Kisses his forehead again and tilts his head in concern, squinting his own eyes as if trying to stop them from being so bright, because he knows they're bright for the Warden without his glasses.* Do your eyes hurt?

Warden: *The combination of Oncie's gentle handling, the safe weight of the covers and the kind tone of his voice softens the Warden's body until he's a warm, heavy weight against his front. He still squints as he looks up into Oncie's eyes, but he doesn't want to lose him by shutting his own.* *It takes him a moment to translate the question, especially since he's still glowing over the kind and loving pet-name, but then he replies quietly,* Mmhmm... a little. *He doesn't care anymore, though. As long as his world is so small that it's only the two of them, he can survive even if they do ache.* I-it's okay.

Once-ler: *Eyebrows knot up in sympathy.* I can't get your glasses but- *Reaches up above his top hat where his sunglasses rest on his head and takes them, while also removing his hat and placing it down.* You can wear mine if it makes you more comfortable. *He helps him try them on, knowing that they're not yellow lenses so can't make anything warmer, but they are dark and so might helps soothe some of the brightness or overwhelming peripheral vision. The weight of glasses on his face might also just provide something of a placebo effect, who knows?* Does that feel better, or no?

Warden: *He watches with glassy docility as Oncie places the glasses on his face, and as darkness falls over his vision he blinks in curiosity. Then the unseen tension in his shoulders relax and the lines around his eyes soften. That feels much better - even if they still aren't right and don't make him feel like he's in his own little fantasy world, he does at least have the separation and some rest for his weak eyes.*

*He smiles up at him from behind his sunglasses, looking quite the picture in his colourless hospital clothes, restraints, and Oncie's sunglasses.* Much better. *He shuffles against him, unable to inch any closer but just wanting to feel the action of drawing nearer to him anyway.* Thank you... *He thanks him as innocently as a child knowing to be polite, but with all the love they share together.*

Once-ler: *Gently smiles when he sees that it's made him feel somewhat better.* Good~ *Leans down and kisses his forehead.* You're welcome. *His stomach squirms as he feels Edmund shift and for a moment wonders if he's uncomfortable, but then he settles against him.* They suit you. *He says with a quiet chuckle, wanting to ease some tension with a playful compliment.

Warden: *Blinks at Oncie with his own, slightly delirious, giggle. He looks up at him with endless gratitude, even just for the slight attempt at play with the compliment, because any amount of play is a good distraction away from bad feelings for the Warden.*

Once-ler: *He smiles back with depth behind his gaze. His heart then skips a beat as he thinks about saying it again, and maybe hearing it back, although he wouldn't worry if he doesn't because knows now that he's capable of it at least. His arms squeeze around him gently, lovingly and he mumbles by his ear.* I love you.

Warden: *He's so glad he's squeezed back, too. He wants that tangible sense of being as close as possible, so his senses are full with the fact that he's protected - because it's really spooky being unable to do anything to defend himself. When he hears those three words again, his body rises with a deep breath of relief and a rush of giddy - if woozy - happiness. Hearing those words still doesn't feel real, those words never applied to him before this man came along, and on some foggy level he understands that even now in all this bad feeling Oncie still wants him enough to be here and say that. Emotion rises in the back of his throat and for a moment his heart flutters. He loves him too.*

*He wants to say those words back. In the addled and muzzy confusion of the past few hours, he's not sure if he's ever been able to or not, but those are also dangerous words that might mean something very bad happens if he says them out loud. He doesn't want to bring down an axe on Oncie right when they're at their weakest, but at the same time he wants to say it so bad.* I-I... *He swallows, then quickly nods as a lump rises in his throat. Silently, he begs Oncie to understand.*

Once-ler: *His hand rises into the Warden's hair and he strokes his fingers through it. He smiles as he watches him try to reply, and doesn't force him, the fact that he's trying to is proof enough, it always has been. His stomach flutters and he leans down to press his lips against his head. He adds quietly when the Warden stops himself.* I know.

Warden: *He's so relieved to hear that Oncie doesn't need him to say it. If he did, the pressure would be too much, especially right now, and he wouldn't know what to do to make it go away. As it is, rather than struggle with the darkness, he's able to float in his arms, and even though he's far from home and can't move his body and doesn't know what to do, he's still kind of cosy. Even a little bit happy.*

*A few moments ago, he said those words because he wasn't sure if he'd ever see Oncie again, and if Oncie was getting away from him then... he was escaping, so maybe he'd hear them and wouldn't be hurt. That was the thought process, the desperation, that managed to coax those words out of him. As he clings to his soulmate's front as best he can, calmer and more aware that they're both here and both 'in danger', he isn't sure they have that freedom. A big man with an axe might enter at any moment. But somehow he still feels like Oncie might be a bigger man. He tilts his head closer to Oncie's chest and says very quietly, forcing the words forward,* A-are we safe?

Once-ler: *His hand comes round and clutches his head protectively when he feels him tilt towards his chest, and when he asks that question he opens his mouth to reply, but then a quick knock taps against the door and the sound of locks clicking with keys echoes through. His attention flicks to it and his grip tightens around Edmund, not to worry him but to make him aware he's protected. He stares towards the incoming sound like a wolf ready to pounce with sharp eyes, ready to snarl at the threat. But he suddenly remembers to collect himself.*

*The knock isn't so much of a request to enter as it is a warning someone is entering, the kind of half assed knock an aged mother gives on her teenage sons bedroom door before sweeping in to dump a pile of laundry on the bed. It's not so much of a knock and entry as it is two hard taps and the immediate creak of the metal hospital door as it sweeps open and white light floods through. An older, plumper woman enters with a younger nurse by her side. The former has been a carer for forty years, the latter didn't want to come back here alone.*

Older nurse: Evenin' Mr. Once-ler, sorry to disturb, but we've brought the overnight stuff by instruction of Dr. Zazzerzump. *She has bags under her eyes, her voice is nasally and she speaks her words with a slow drawl. She's a chunky, round figure and is the type of old nurse who has changed so many bedpans over the years that nothing disgusts or surprises her anymore. Although some patients occasionally do, including this one, but she's good at brushing it off and getting on with her job.* C'mon Lissie! *She enters further into the room holding a large roll of bedding like a lady Viking shifting a boulder. Lessie, a younger, fairly new nurse shuffles in hesitantly after her with pillows.* Do you want it assem-ba-lin' for you, Sir?

Warden: *Suddenly there's noise and voices and loud rattling, and it hits him all wrong because his brain can't process things properly right now. If he was by himself he'd panic and fear would strike and thrash him at them like a prey animal caught in a net. Flinching at and away from them somewhere between impulsive attempts to snap defensively and simply shriek from fright- or, that's what he'd think he'd be doing. In reality the sedative is too much to let him do anything shake out of fear and try to hiss. But his instincts are different now that there's someone else to take care of him, a bigger predator able to fight for him, and so that panicked, protective aggression doesn't trigger. Instead, he's just terrified and begging for rescue. He yelps at the sudden noise, and instinctively dives further against Oncie as if he were trying to dig himself into the ground. His body can be felt to begin to shake, and his hands tighten under his restraints as he grips onto himself in an automatic attempt to protect his organs. He lets out a small sound of fear and manages to dig his heel into the ground and shove himself as hard as he can into Oncie's arms, trying to hide in him like a deer hiding between the legs of a stag.*

Once-ler: *Is frowning towards the noise, but he blinks at the Warden's sudden rustling and hiding and feels his heart clutch in his chest as the same rate his hands clutch around him. His gaze snaps towards the door, now not so furious because things are more in his control and he has his soulmate back in his arms, but still protective. He assumes it's nurses returning to drop off the overnight accommodations he was promised, but Edmund doesn't have enough comprehension of what's happening to understand that's all this is. He pulls him into his front, hiding his face in his chest as he holds his hand against the back of his head and pulls their makeshift covers up a little more over him. He feels the shaking and hears the sound, and as his stomach clenches he can't help but whisper down to him that he's okay. Then he orders at the women.* No, just drop them down there and go. I'll do them myself.

Warden: *He's tense - really, really tense - as he grits his teeth and tries to block out the fact that reality is once again intruding on his world just when it was starting to arrange itself in a tiny little bubble he could kind of begin to handle. He was okay, for a second when it was just them. But the noise leaves him exposed to the real world again, to people who threaten everything about him. Even them just looking at him means he's not The Warden, which is the only thing his mind can deal with.*

*He's not sure if he'll end up bending his sunglasses with the force he's putting on them as he buries himself in Oncie's front. His arms shove, just once, in a panicked attempt to grab around his boyfriend's waist or flail at oncoming danger, but it's not strong and the jacket prevents anything from really happening. He can hear his breathing squeak, but he does at least calm a little bit when he hears Oncie talk to him. He stops his minute attempts at struggling, though his heart still flutters and he still freezes against him like a rabbit caught in an open field.*

Older Nurse: *Shrugs and drops the things on the floor. Lissie does the same, dropping down the pillows and a bag containing some overnight supplies. She grumbles on her way out barely heard.* A 'thank you' would be nice… Young men these days-

Nurse Lessie: *Nudges the older nurse and points over to the Warden. Whispers to her.* Nurse Julie, is that allowed?

Warden: *He doesn't really follow what they're saying, but he recognises the tones enough to hear when they drop the things on the floor - which makes him jump anyway - and start to leave. He begins to soften, just a little, but then they start talking again and he kicks at the ground beneath the covers and whispers Oncie's name in the smallest voice, begging him to make them go away.*

Once-ler: *He feels the pressure against him and doesn't care if his sunglasses are bent so long as they don't end up hurting the Warden himself. The kicking and the little whisper of his name only makes that anger surge up harder because now he's responding to his soulmates fear and feels anxious to defend his space. He just made a warm nest for him and they're invading it.*

Nurse Julie: *Huffs and looks over with her hand on her hips, adjusting her own glasses when she notices the new ones on the Warden.* Sir, I can't say that won't count as contraband like his own if he's-

Once-ler: *Is currently hooking his chin over the Warden's head and stroking his back with his hand under the coat and thneed. He rolls his eyes and snaps at her, the demand barked and final.* Just get out.

Warden: *Flinches at the sudden loud voice, his common sense even more inhibited with the sedatives and therefore his learned behaviour responds instinctively with a flinch to the shout of the angry man. But a split second later, he recognises the voice as his Oncie, which makes sense because the shout was very close and Oncie is hugging him right now, and that flinch immediately settles because he knows he’s being protected. Oncie is so powerful and has such a presence, he’d recognise that voice of his anywhere, it’s the voice that shows strength and makes demands around Superjail despite everything. Even in the jaws of Superjail, Oncie is still a force to be reckoned with. For some reason, that foggy thought almost makes his throat close up.*

Nurse Julie: *Rolls her eyes and shrugs as she turns and then leads Lessie out of the room.* There, that's your answer. *They close it all back up and leave them in peace.*

The Once-ler: *Once the women are gone, his attention immediately turns back to the man in his arms, even if a part of him is still watching their surroundings so that Edmund knows someone is.* Hey, hey, it's okay, they're gone. *He curls around him and rubs his lips against his head, speaking in a softer voice.* You're safe now.

Warden: *He's shaking like a leaf when the door shuts, eyes clenched shut, and realising beneath everything that he's in a really, really bad place, and that for him to be in this really bad place, something really has gone wrong. A certain existential understanding falls over him, but he doesn't have the processing power to handle it. He's actually in trouble. This is a situation that might not just go away like a sickness or a nightmare, but this might mean his life has really changed permanently. His eyes fly open and he looks up at Oncie like he's desperate to see something other than the terrible world he's landed himself in, and he whispers the word that signals that he wants everything to stop. His white flag, his safe-word, the sign that he wants to be in his bed now, and for the ride to stop so he can get off.* I'm sorry. *His voice is barely audible, but his expression is a mask of anguish. He pants with the appearance of falling into a pain-induced panic.* I'm so sorry.

Once-ler: *The shaking only makes him grip harder, as if it might keep him stable, especially at the way Edmund tries to hug for him but just can't. All he can do is hold him back with more strength, and at the least it keeps him warm so the chill doesn't make the shaking worse. Then he feels him lift his head and so he looks back down to him, and that expression of complete, traumatised surrender breaks his heart so hard that it makes him gasp out loud. Then those words come, and he loses his own. He doesn't know what to say, he feels his tongue go cold with a kind of horrified nausea. He shakes his head, eyes wide with knotted eyebrows as he gazes into his eyes and tries to just understand what he means.*

*Something in his expression, in his eyes, is telling him and he thinks he might just see the existential anguish in them. He just wants it to stop, he knows he's been bad - because he's in a bad place, and that's how he knows it works - but he doesn't quite know or remember what he's done. But he feels it, and he'll just apologise for anything, to anyone, to hope it might make the pain go away, that it might stop the punishment. When has he ever offered that grace to anyone himself? Maybe he doesn't even know it's an option, which makes this even more devastating if it's just a broken last cry for help that he knows is hopeless. Nevertheless, what he begs for is a thing that, in his childhood and world view, has always been nothing but an inconceivable idea that’s as real as the Easter bunny. That thing is mercy.*

*He sighs out a shuddering pained breath and cups his face gently with his hand.* Ohh... Bunny... *He swallows, feeling a small lump in his throat. He can only think of one thing to say, whether or not it's appropriate to come from him. None of this seems personal, none of it seems specific, it's all just highly emotional and much like Edmund will say anything to make the punishment end, Oncie will say whatever he needs to hear to ease him in this moment.* I forgive you. *He pulls him into his shoulder and curls around him, his knees coming up even more to cradle him.* You're forgiven. I can't make the bad things stop right now but I can promise you that you're not in trouble, not with me. You were never in trouble with me. *He kisses the side of his head a few times* And I'm staying here, and as long as I'm here with you, you're in a place where you're not in danger, you're not in trouble and you're not being punished, even if you're upset and hurting.

Warden: *His wide eyes stare up through the sunglasses and lock onto Oncie's, desperate for them. When his hand cups his face, he tilts into it so that his cheek is slightly smushed by his palm, a sliver of his teeth visible between parted lips, and big, terrified eyes filling with tears. When Oncie says those words, for a moment his world stops. His eyes can't pull any wider, but his breath pauses and something settles deep down in him - the little motor that had been driving him to higher and higher panic, telling him that he was in trouble and to run. When he hears that he's forgiven, it starts to very carefully melt down.*

*He's pulled in, and again he tries to hard to hug back but the best he can do is press against him and nuzzle into his warm embrace. His eyes don't shut but they do tighten as tears fall again, and he watches Oncie from the hug like he doesn't dare turn away and find out that he's a figment of a dream. He hears Oncie tell him that he's not in trouble, that he's never been in trouble with Oncie, and that he's going to stay here. That he's not in danger and he's not going to be hurt even though he doesn't feel good. A little bleat splutters out of him as he absorbs those kisses, needing them so badly.*

*'Forgiveness' has never been a word in the Warden's vocabulary. In day-to-day life, sure, he'll forgive a slight. He'll forgive his friends for mistakes and accidents, or deliberately pretend they don't hate him if they do something that hurts, but that's not mercy. Mercy is different. He's never once granted mercy to a prisoner without an ulterior motive. The only other time he ever showed mercy was when he dared to feed that puppy, and they both know what happened after that. Justice and mercy are two sides of the same coin, but he's never flipped his over. His father never flipped it over either - all he's ever known is black-and-white punishment for crimes. Mercy is ‘cheating’, as his Father would think. But he's so scared, and he'd do anything to make the fear go away. He'll cheat if he has to, not realising that he's not 'cheating', but genuinely crying out for help because his mind and sanity are still fighting for a shred of survival and he’s too small and weak to do it himself. His whisper of those words might as well be a scream from a burning building.*

Once-ler: *He doesn't realise that what the Warden’s psychology really reads is him granting him mercy, although that is the truth to what Oncie is offering him. Because as Edmund begs the universe for mercy in his moment of pain, the universe has granted it to him in the form of The Once-ler. Out of everything around him, this is the kind offering, the acceptance of the white flag, the hearing of the safe word and the offer to help cease the pain. That doesn't mean he can change the rest of his situation, but one corner of this situation is merciful. He does consciously know forgiveness however. He knows guilt and he knows how much freedom forgiveness can bring a person, because he knows that he himself would still be in a terrible place had the Lorax not forgiven him for all he'd done.*

Warden: *After a moment, he gives a pitiful nod. With a wet, little laugh he nuzzles his nose into his neck. He's still scared, but as Oncie insists on those promises, the dread begins to lift. He plants a gentle kiss against him.*

The Once-ler: *That lump in his throat grows as he sees the Warden's reaction, but he stays strong, his stomach flutters at the gentle kiss against him and he bundles him up in a little squirm. They couldn't be closer but he still wants him to feel cuddled.* You're safe, Edmund, it's just you and me, and nothing can hurt you when I'm with you. *His voice is low and soft and he kisses his head again.* I love you. *He pulls back just enough to look at him and cup his face, he smiles softly, wiping a tear from his cheek with his thumb.* And in a moment I'm going to wrap us up in that soft blanket, lie us down in the pillows, and we're going to cuddle up together all night. Now that doesn't sound much like punishment, huh?

Warden: *The fear leaves him in layers, each one peeling away or falling to dust, one-by-one as Oncie handles him so tenderly. The existential dread leaves him first, as Oncie promises him that he's not in trouble and reminds him that even if he's uncomfortable, he's not going to be harmed by anyone so long as he's here. Beneath that is an animal tension, ready to spring and try to run or try to defend himself, or cry for help as his instincts prepare for a wolf attack. He's so vulnerable, and he knows it, that he's been flooding himself with adrenaline that's been battling the sedatives in his bloodstream for what must be hours. As he's cuddled up and as Oncie gives him a warm place to curl, as he kisses him and cups his face and says he'll always protect him, that slowly falls away as well.*

*Soon he's left only with the fear at the very bottom of it all, that will probably not go away until they get out of this place. That fear is manageable - it's just an undercurrent of knowledge that he hasn't got his shield and that life is scary and that he's not in Superjail anymore, and that can be carried so long as he's not left by himself. As long as Oncie is handling everything else, he can handle that.*

*It takes him a second for Oncie's words to sink through the fog, but then he nods with a weary, relieved smile, even a little chuckle in his voice.* Mmhmm~ *The smile pushes a final tear down his cheek and over Oncie's thumb, and he blushes ever-so-slightly pink when he's told that he loves him. Soft blankets and a warm bed sound very good right about now.*

Once-ler: *Lets out a soft, loving hum of laughter that's only just audible. His own chest doesn't feel quite as panicked anymore even though he still wants to get Edmund out of here as fast as possible. He's accepted what he can't change and is focusing in what he can control, and now that he can tell his boyfriend's heart rate is calming down, his own is relaxing too and becomes a calm thud against Edmund's front. A hand slides into his hair and he pulls him gently down under his chin and rests his lips against his head as he softly draws his fingertips through his hair in rhythmic circles. He loves him, more than anything in the world, he loves him, so even if Edmund couldn't be released in some ridiculous universe where the Once-ler doesn't get what he wants, he'd stay here in this room with him for an eternity. He whispers.* We'll stay here a moment and then I'll sort the bed out, okay? *He kisses his head, and just so soothe him a little more, he starts to slowly hum a little jingle he once made up about Thneeds and how everybody needs one.*

Warden: *His eyes close as Oncie's hand slides into his hair, his senses still trying to be alert for danger but failing as a sense of comfort, of utter relief, overwhelms him. He curls up under his partner's chin as he's guided, and a few more tears fall down his face - healing tears after a long day fraught with terror, rather than the cry for help they were before. He makes a soft sound that he understands, when Oncie tells him he'll move in a moment to get things sorted, and the softest, most musical little laugh escapes him when he hears that jingle. If he's playing, they really must be okay.*

*The fear fades as his world becomes encapsulated in the Once-ler's arms, and the emotions rush in slowly but surely, like an avalanche of honey. He adores this man. He needs him more than he has ever needed anything else, because he's saving him - not just protecting him like his glasses or his prison. His lips quiver with just how intensely and just how truly those emotions hit, and after a moment he pushes his face into Oncie's neck to whisper words that would normally be so terrifying but right now feel like the only things that matter.* I-I... *His voice is so quiet, not wanting the universe to hear his confession of guilt and weakness, because these words were always treated like that's what they were. But if Oncie has the power to make even mercy exist, then maybe he’s right, maybe his Father was also wrong about those three words. He said them already, in a fit of desperation that he only half-understands, but he says them now like it's a secret he's privileged to keep.* …*He takes a soft, deep breath and pushes himself harder into his arms.* I-I love you...

Once-ler: *He's happily curled around his boyfriend, loving the way he nestles into his neck and starts to calm down. When he starts to speak, he thinks he's about to try and ask or say something else; it's only when he actually says the words that it surprises him.*

*He wasn't expecting to hear the response, but he realises that Edmund finally feels safe enough to say it, because he's here with him. His chest clutches, time slows down again and he feels a lump in his throat that makes emotional, incredulous tears appear in his eyes again. He sniffs and lets out a quiet breath of laughter, grinning from ear to ear. His heart can be felt racing, hammering in his chest with a rush of joy and excitement despite the terrible circumstances they're in. This could be the most happiest he's felt in a long time, despite them both being in the most awful nightmare, all because he adores this man more than life itself and the man has the courage to tell him the same, finally. He sniffs and leans in, nuzzling his nose just under his cheek to gently tilt his face like a kind, larger animal shifting a smaller one.* I love you too, Bunny.

*He meets his lips and they press together, his own parting slightly and softly to linger against his with a few nuzzling smooches, as his arms squeeze around him with the same strength of push that Edmund presses into him. He doesn't overwhelm him, but he does consume his meekness with affection and adoration, surrounding him with his arms and capturing his lips like a flurry of flowers blooming against his skin. He tilts his head into it and lets out a soft sigh as a tear rolls down his cheek. As he pulls away he gazes into the Warden's eyes, the pair of them both tear-filled over their love for each other and he smiles. He grins and whispers* I love you too.

Warden: *It takes a moment, but when Oncie kisses him his lips respond in kind, his heart beating like a fluttering bird in the cage of his ribs, and his cheeks blooming with more colour. They part just a little bit and brush against him, as slow and earnest as a leaf bending for the sun. He bends with the gentle, primal nudge of his face, and dares to crack open his eyes to gaze up at him. The corners of his mouth weakly pull into a broad smile, all the more quavering but all the happier when they're said to him again.*

*He's so happy to hear those words returned, because even though he's certain of their love, he isn't certain about those words, and there's always a chance that they could magically make everything terrible if he's heard to say them out loud. Oncie's voice, however, is bigger than his is, and it's like he drowns out all the threats and dangers that start to clamour for his mind the moment he says the same thing.*

The Once-ler: *The Once-ler closes his eyes and pulls Edmund under his chin again, he begins pressing repeated kisses into his head and around his face, slowly and softly so he's not overwhelmed, but showering him in love still, and holding him like he's the most valuable thing the Once-ler has ever worked so hard to earn. And then, he rests his cheek on his head, safely tucked under his chin, within the warm comfort of his makeshift covers. They rest in the moment, they can face the world again together tomorrow, right now, all that matters is that they’re back together and nothing will pull the Once-ler’s greatest treasure from his greedy, loving hands.*

Warden: *He closes his eyes as he's tucked under Oncie's chin, his whole body melting against him, relying on him entirely to bear his weight. That is, until Oncie starts to push those gentle kisses into his head and face, his drugged senses reading that movement as he would a flurry of kisses if he were at his best. His feet give a very weak and heavy kick of delight as a breathy, lyrical laugh falls from him, delighted at so much fuss and adoration. The Once-ler came back for him, and that’s the only thing that matters. He's loved, and he loves, and even though everything seems to have gone wrong, and even though the whole world seems to hate him right now, and even though the loud, angry, scary voice in his head would disagree, that love is the only thing that matters.*

#the-once-ler-in-superjail #superjail #the once-ler #the warden #the lorax #wardler #wardenler #comic #asylum #chapter 36 #comic update #part 2 #thneedville

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