ShadowsDrowned

Where am I? I sat up and groaned, putting a hand on my head to try and make the throbbing stop. I felt something was over my eyes and reached up, finding that my eyes were covered by what felt like an ACE bandage. Why are my eyes covered...? "You should really stay down, Darlin'." I felt a feminine hand touch my shoulder and gently push me back down to have me lay down again. There was a separate set of hands that was pulling a blanket (I assume anyway) over me that felt more like a man's hands so I assume that was who spoke. I could hear several pairs of feet shifting around near me. I can't place how many people are in the room but I have

McCree's Ending: I felt a gloved hand take mine. It was large and clearly strong, but I couldn't actually feel for any calluses, scars, or marks. The hand was clearly trying to be gentlemanly since it raised my hand up to a pair of lips. I felt a beard on the tips of my fingers and the back of my hand could feel a slight bit more facial hair. The person's lips were soft, smooth, but still slightly chapped. They were warm and his lips only barely touched my skin, showing that he wanted to be gentlemanly by not planting a wet one down onto the back of my hand. "(Y/N), this is Jesse McCree. He basically looks like a stereotypical Clint Eastw

As always, I keep these gender-neutral. Please comment if you spot any grammar mistakes so I may correct them. *** You buttoned your shirt carefully, running your hands down upon it to smooth it out nicely. You had been preparing yourself for the last couple of hours for dinner. Not just any dinner, but a dinner with a man worthy of the ability to make your stomach turn at the waves of gentle butterflies. Your father had a knack for holding good ties with the right people. Hell, he had people all over town tied around his finger; the baker, whom sent a gracious amount of pastries during holidays to your family, the news reporter, who share