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mikialynn · 1 year

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2021 Reflection

Yet again, I am writing this reflection a bit past the New Year mark. I had told myself explicitly as the New Year approached that I needed to write this reflection promptly because of how volatile and unexpected the changes in 2021 had been…and I was right! I missed my deadline by just a month, but in that time, both my siblings caught covid, I attended my grandma’s funeral, I had surgery, my brother and his wife announced they were pregnant, my good friend visited and announced she was pregnant, I got asked to be a bridesmaid, and I put in my notice at my consulting job. So, before any other life changing things happen, let’s try to reflect on 2021.

I already know the tone that I’m writing this reflection in now will be a bit calmer than how it would have poured out of me if I’d written this earlier. Just to give you a taste of where I was emotionally as 2021 was winding down, here are some of the notes I had been jotting down for my reflection:

-The world is absurd

-I'm more serious and angry than I’ve ever been

-Loss

Clearly not a great year. It was year of highs, lows, and prolonged limbos that chipped away at my resiliency and positivity. At the start of the year, we had the excitement of a vaccine – a possible end to the restrictions on normalcy that we’d been accommodating for over a year. This enabled little changes that, because of how routine and basic life had become, added so much joy. Stewart and I stopped sanitizing our groceries and recooking take-out food, hooray! I started joining my roommates in eating out—discovering the outdoor dining experience that had established during the pandemic with its makeshift wooden booths, wind barriers, outdoor heating and QR codes. I booked a trip to visit home. For my birthday, I even dined indoors without a mask.

But it didn’t take long for the first major variant to emerge and the world to lock down again. And this time, on top of the normal covid worries that returned, there was the sinking realization that the lifespan of the pandemic had suddenly expanded indefinitely. We now understood that this was the time of variants. Of cycles with peaks and lows. Of having the opportunity to live with slightly more normalcy, but only with heightened vigilance, greater nuance, and more real-time strategic thinking in a context of rapidly changing risks. A decision to go to a family party or eat out was based on how long since you’d had a booster and where on the caseload curve of this particular variant your town stood. Trips and visits could be planned, but one had to plot out in advance the timing of potential exposure, incubation days, ideal testing windows, and cautious quarantining until the results came in. Finding testing centers and administering swabs became commonplace.

As the Delta variant was establishing itself outside of the U.S., three particularly stressful life changes were happening.

The first – my roommate Asha had set a move out date from our apartment, which triggered my other roommate Kenzie and I deciding to align our departure with hers. I loved that apartment and our little family unit. I loved our corner shops, our nearby parks, my big bay windows, the tall ceilings, the open kitchen and the soft blue and pink walls. My first year in San Francisco was one of my favorites. I felt on top of the world biking past the city capital with the backdrop of the orange sunrise, hopping on the bus and crossing over the beautiful San Francisco Bay on the fog-covered Golden Gate Bridge every day on my way to work. I lived as a young adult, fully independent and open to the world. I was going to random art events, concerts and film festivals. I went on dates just for the fun of it for the first time. I joined a singing chorus and ended up falling in love with the community center – the retired folks and young people I met looking to chase a passion like myself. It felt like I was living fully as myself.

On top of that, I inherited the apartment from its former occupants and was able to select my new roommates. I found two people who I absolutely adored. For a couple months there, Kenzie and I hung out all the time going out dancing and to secret basement music events. Her Spanish friends even commented that we did everything together. And then I met Stewart and I had that magical experience of falling in love in that city. We also started going on trips that opened up California to me—fishing adventures along the coast and backpacking trips in the Sierras. And, at the end of the day, I’d come home to my happy place, plop on the couch to download to Kenzie and Asha, and maybe end the day with a group crossword. That was me happy.

But COVID changed things—as I talked about in my last reflection—and in 2021 I had to finally accept letting go of that world completely, even though I felt like time in that phase of life had been cut short. And I was really sad. I didn’t want it to end. I think I also knew that I’d probably live with Stewart next and, while that’s an exciting next chapter in life, it is the end of living with friends and that whole roommate dynamic. I’ve been lucky in that basically everyone I’ve ever lived with has become a best friend. I enjoy that balance of having friends to come home to. That effortless way of keeping up friendships, especially since it’s not as natural for me to keep up friendships when they aren’t physically in the same space. So it was hard imagining never having that environment for forging a friendship again, and hard accepting what that indicated about my age and stage in life.

And of course, the act of moving out was also challenging. Furniture, random junk, and a whole lot of dust had been accumulating in that apartment for over a decade, and we were responsible for emptying it all. It was a constant barrage of craigslist and facebook ads and weekly filling of trash bins and dropping off useful goods on the sidewalks. Some of the things I had major anxiety about being able to lift or fit out the door (in fact, one couch required removing the door and having 3 young men assist us). The stress and the allergies that came with that process resulted in my first full-body episode of eczema. We said goodbye to Asha first, and then to Kenzie. And then finally came the day where it was just me in the apartment doing the final sweep. I walked through the empty rooms, down our stairs onto the street past the playground and the restaurants, across the civic center and into the BART station for the last time. I honestly felt heartbroken. And in the coming weeks while Stewart and I hopped between airbnbs and his aunt’s place in Mill Valley, I would feel the strange sensation as we would drive by San Francisco of no longer being a part of it and not having a home to go to in it.

The second major stressor at that time was that Stewart and I were wrestling with the commitment to and timing of our departure from WRA, the consulting job we had both been generally unhappy with. I was ready to leave and had been for over a year. I was pretty burnt out and stuck in a 9-to-5 work experience that I did not want to waste any more of my life on. Stewart’s situation was not as cut-and-dry, and he was much less comfortable with the ambiguity of the next step. The plan was to give ourselves the space and flexibility to figure out the next long-term step by working for a period of time at my parent’s fish farm. But it wasn’t easy coming up with a game plan that we both were comfortable with. And, even if I felt sure it was the right thing to do, I didn’t want to be responsible for pushing someone I loved into a situation that would make them unhappy. So all I could do was give him the space, listen to his concerns, and try to assuage them without biasing him. I experienced how complicated it is to have your life wrapped up with someone else’s.

After a couple of months of feeling it out and some second guessing, we made our announcement to WRA. In the end, they offered to keep us on part-time with the plan to check in after 6 months to see if we wanted to return as full-time employees. As an aside, one of the programs our departure most disrupted was the drone program, and the company quickly pulled together a short list of people to train as their new drone pilots. I am proud to say that I emailed the CEO and told him that I had noticed the list was exclusively male despite my understanding that several equally qualified women had applied. He responded positively saying he had overlooked that and that they were now planning to add one more female candidate (though in reality no one ended up going their drone license in the ensuing 6 months).

The third stressor that creeped up was that, during a routine pap smear, I had an abnormal result. Because I was just about to move to Hawaii and wouldn’t be able to get a follow-up appointment until after I was supposed to have already left California, I had to leave that up in the air until I was settled in Hawaii. For the most part I tucked that away in the back of my brain, but it was an underlying stress with a dash of extra worry because I was postponing follow-up and hoping that didn’t have repercussions I’d regret.

Once Stewart and I did finally overcome the hurdle of giving our notice to WRA, it felt like a weight had been lifted and for a brief period we hit another high in the year. We road-tripped across the country to make an adventure of getting to Maine, where we’d spend some time with Stewart’s family and drop off his things. Our first stop was Big Sur where I was a bridesmaid in Barb’s wedding. Then it was through the southwest to the Grand Canyon, south through Texas to the coast, along the gulf with a stop in New Orleans, and then north along the Appalachians. There was a fair bit of stress and arguing with all of the daily logistics of figuring out where to go and where to stay with a Prius stacked full of valuables. We were also juggling doing the I-Corps program with my parents for a grant and WRA work. But overall there were also a lot of cool firsts and new sights.

After a brief stop in Vermont to meet Stewart’s uncle & aunt, we finally settled in Maine for the next month. It was very pleasant time just making meals and hanging out with his parents. In particular I loved a weekend trip to Monhegan Island with its water color landscape and fairy-filled forests. We also did a road trip down to Virginia for his brother’s wedding where I met a lot more of his family. I had a lot of fun with his cousin Nan, who was crushing on Stewart’s classmate and bumbling along with her guitar drunk at night certain she’d somehow find a way home despite not knowing anyone and not able to get an uber.

I finally flew home in October to set up the living space for Stewart and I and to spend some quality time with my parents. I proudly transformed the upstairs of the two-story building into a livable space. I also made some improvements to my parent’s living situation, but ended up also fighting with them, in particular my mom, quite a bit as I took in how much things had gone so awry since I’d left for SF. The pandemic was to blame for a lot of their isolation from external pressures that kept things in check, as was some unpredictable changes like my mom’s craft’s class instructor passing away and her hula class getting more competitive and nudging her out. But still, things had gotten bad. Mom was no longer able to even go in a long walk without cramping and the house was covered in a layer of grime. Dad was limping around on crocs that were worn down to almost nothing, unable to wear shoes because of his intense swelling but also unwilling to prioritize initiating medical care, and sleeping on an uneven surface of a cot and twin mattress with a wedged pillow that his feet would slide off of. I was angry at them for not taking care of themselves, and overwhelmed with how many things I saw around me that needed to be fixed. I felt myself getting easily frustrated and triggered by their justifications, and it was still so fresh for me that I wasn’t yet able to filter out what things to react to and which to patiently work on over time.

It was within that context that Stewart arrived. In addition, at this point, we’d been working parttime for almost two months, and the awareness of feeling unemployed and the open-endedness of our arrangement was heightening. I felt a strong sense of pressure and responsibility to make sure the HFC arrangement provided a sense of stability, and that also made me very sensitive to Stewart’s assessment of our living quarters and HFC work dynamic. I was also sharing my home and my parents with him, as well as some very messy but cherished and vulnerable parts of my past with him, which made me very sensitive to his opinions. I found myself very wrapped up in his mood and very easily stressed by anything that seemed to come across as unhappiness or dissatisfaction, which to be honest is something he’s much more outwardly expressive of than I’m used to. I felt a combination of guilt and embarrassment about things he didn’t like since the farm was very much part of me and my past, and an indignant reaction to his dissatisfaction—anger and resentment for his inability to be more appreciative and positive and kind when he knew this was my special place and I was obviously trying so hard to make things better for everyone. All in all, it was not a great combination of circumstances, and I found myself very reactive to everyone around me.

During this time, I also did my follow-up to my abnormal pap-smear and found I had severe dysplasia, or pre-cancerous cells, in my cervix. It was the first time the word “cancer” had ever applied to me and, though I knew the procedure was fairly routine and my odds were good, it was a scare. Ultimately I had 1.5 cm removed from my cervix, which puts me at a higher risk for premature births. And ultimately the sample they removed showed that the dysplasia was clearing up on its own and I didn’t need to remove part of my cervix—but there was not way to know that would happen between the time of the diagnosis and the surgery, and we went with the safest option. So that’s that. I feel like I was mostly disconnected from that experience emotionally. It felt very step-by-step and I was never really scared but also didn’t try to think about it too deeply.

Also during this time, the highly contagious omicron variant began to emerge, and I watched as Covid case numbers became the highest they had ever been during the whole pandemic. And yet people did not react. Long gone were the days of taking a wide birth on a sidewalk to avoid walking near someone, or only dining outdoors. People had acclimatized to the pandemic even though it was the worst it had ever been. It frustrated me. While we were all vaccinated and the death rate wasn’t as high with this variant, I still operated under the assumption that if my mom were to get any strain of covid, even the mildest form, she would be at high risk of death. So the “mildness” of the variant doesn’t change my behavior or alleviate any of my stress over, it’s still the probability of catching covid that I track. This was also during the holidays when a number of family gatherings, including Christmas, were happening. So I had to serve as the bad guy with my family forcing people to keep masks on and hang out outside. I didn’t like playing that role and my brother even poked fun at me and sent me a photo of his covid vaccination card to ask if he had permission to visit with us. But I stand by what I did, because my parents and I didn’t get Covid, and my siblings did. And I believe strongly that every day my parents don’t get Covid—particularly if we can avoid it during peak times so hospitals aren’t spread thin—the higher their chances of survival are. Because more people are getting immunity every day and treatments are improving.

And then, out of nowhere and with no kindness or sympathy for how hard things already were or for how much I’d been looking forward to seeing her, life took grandma away. And it just seemed like – when is it enough?

I felt both that the world had let me down and I, in my failure to have achieved some societal impact or transformation of some personal passion into a professional endeavor, had somehow let the world down too. How silly to feel so self important, right? But at the same time, we only experience one life, so isn’t everything life or death? Isn’t me wasting the opportunity to utilize myself for something meaningful the most monumental failure? Life just felt too big and too fast and too disappointing. It was the first time in my life I was really struggling with the thought of ‘what’s the point?’ I know I’ve been lucky in that, for most of my life, I had the privilege of feeling amazed. Amazed at how beautiful my home was, amazed by places I had the privilege to see. I always felt a little like my life had this movie-like quality. Last year was the first year I can remember just not loving my life. And, because I felt responsible for these let downs and, on a higher level, because I was upset at myself for getting stuck in such a bad attitude and perspective, it was also my first time really not loving myself.

And then while I was lost in all that ego, to then unexpectedly lose grandma, and to feel the guilt of not having realized I should have been thinking more of her. I should have been prioritizing visiting her over everything else. I had been talking about her to Stewart, and to his parents. I had been . And yet I was so wrapped up in fixing things and getting stressed about thigs that I didn’t just visit her. I’ll never forget that the week before she passed, I had been talking about visiting her, and Stewart said “let’s just go then. We can just go for a few days”. And then the next week she died. I’ll never forget that she had called mom the month before, and I knowing it was difficult to talk with her on the phone and not having nailed down when we might visit her with mom and thinking I’d be visiting her soon, just continued walking out the door and doing something else. I should have stopped and said hi to her.

I have never felt so much anger at myself before. I was angry at myself for not being able to help my parents in a way that seems sustainable for them. I was angry at myself for putting Stewart in a position that he might be unhappy in. I was angry at myself for being so emotional, for being so embarrassingly quick to argue and lash out. And now I was angry at myself and so overwhelmingly guilty for not having visited grandma right away. For not having visited her the last Christmas in Hawaii before COVID hit.

I was also just devastatingly sad.

Grandma's house was my happy place. It is a fixture of my childhood. Sliding down the stairs, memorizing every bridge and curly fern in their anthrium patch, seeing grandpa out with his machete clearing the veg, the smells of ginger and garlic, the early morning sounds of mom and grandma sitting at the kitchen talking downstairs.

Going to grandma's was like going to camp in the summer, and it was as much a part of the winter holidays as putting up the tree. She was an anchor in my life, and as an adult a refuge where my siblings and I could live under the same house and be kids again. losing her is the the type of loss where you look forward and you're not sure what normal is supposed to be any more.

To grandma I want to say, thank you for giving me the most uncomplicated love. I thought I did, but now realize I did not grasp enough how much I relied on and cherished that love.

My previous reflections have been centered on a worry of getting older. My perspective has shifted slightly. I'm feeling older not because I'm getting physically older or feel that I no longer considered young, but because things of my past that were constant and cherished are going away. Because there is a state of things I can't hold on to, and the time has come where I am witnessing it change and disappear.

There is a sweet window of time where the constants that have been in your life are in no immediate danger of going anywhere. Where you can enjoy the new and exciting with the comfort of the existing being stable. Now it feels like the new heralds the old. That one gives way for the other. I feel myself transitioning into a life that is not like the one I grew up in. That I have to find new normals. It’s sad and scary.

I’ve found some closure in helping to accomplish grandma’s funeral—in giving people an opportunity to grieve and in pushing myself to do something uncomfortable and growth-enabling as my tribute to grandma, to show her that I’ll keep pushing forward for her. And the ability to work full days under Kupu funds seems to also have alleviated some of the stress I felt as a mediator between HFC, my parents, and Stewart.

But I’m not trying to wrap up 2021 in a tidy bow. I think 2021 will go down in my memory as a rough year, and that’s fine. Life isn’t a reasonable character. It’s not going to hold back a bad life event just because you’re already dealing with other struggles. It unfolds with no sympathy and no agency. I’ve learned that. And I also know that the hardest parts of my life are yet to come. I have underlying anxieties now that took root from experiencing this deep sadness that I don’t think will ever go away. But I do think I will continue to improve on how I cope with stress and worries about the future. I am going to actively work on being less quick to react, on misdirecting my stresses into unnecessary arguments, and on feeling less responsible for the way things happen and other people’s lives. Though at the same time, I am going to push back on the fact that I’m someone who does care about other people’s needs and feelings, and that should not be treated as a negative quality. So for now, I’m going to help my parents get through this big push on the farm, and just trust my future self to figure out the rest when the time comes.

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mariska · 2 years

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very professional artist's interpretation of what i have looked like for the past two hours

#bad day folks. its. been a rough one #licherally feels like my eye is swollen past my eye socket so likeeeee hopefully its not!! oofa fuckin doofa!!!!#i have a drs appt in like 3 hrs at my usual primary care office BUT #my dr who is one of the only drs i trust is not there today #and i am absolutely not going to the ER or an urgent care place bcus i am not properly updated with my vaccine booster #and when i brought that up like a month ish ago i was told that somehow. despite always being on the verge of autoimmune related death #quite literally. i dont 'qualify' to get a necessary protective booster shot so maybe later in the year. hello???? what the fuck #like i have been stuck in my house for 2 and a half years having to tip toe on #metaphorical glass to keep myself alive at the cost of my literal sanity #because i am super high risk of catching you know what and having horrible complications due to my numerous other health issues #and i tried so hard not to let myself get sick or have unusual bad symptoms like this so that #i wouldnt have to put myself at risk attending physical appts #and tried my best to stay on top of all the vaccine info and advocate whenever i could for myself and my health #and they really said No and now the exact thing i was terrified would happen has happened against my will #and now i have to expose myself to health risks because this one problem that is currently unexplained and very painful #just decided to Happen. and i could have been up to date vaccinated a month ago and not have my severe medical #trauma be triggered like this. im so exhausted and frustrated dude.

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obeymematches · 3 years

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moving in with with your om! bf (GN MC) (not nsfw)

inspired by irl events🙈 see more at the end of this post dfghj

HoL = House of Lamentation

Lucifer: Stays in HoL but possibly renovates it a little bit to have more privacy. (as a compromise in case you reaaally didn't want to stay there - now you have your own bathroom + a small kitchen)

His brothers still depend on him so you continue to share family moments. (which isn't too bad, Lucifer is usually busy so sometimes you might actually want their company) Though now you get noticeably more alone time together - which makes him realize how it would've been a good idea to actually move out (he'd immediately regret that tho because he very care family).

Helps out with chores most of the time. Going OUT on dates is a must at least once a week or so otherwise both of you lose your minds. Nothing else changes, really. Mammon: More likely to move in with you in the human world but would (slightly) prefer the Devildom. (he'd only do that tho if he can secure a spot in a safer area for your sake. even if you are a powerful sorcerer.) Paying rent&bills is going to require hustle which might be a reason why you have to move back into HoL. (though...in canon if he is in love with u, u get rich even if u do nothing...so that'd be handy in this case) Definitely enjoys how he gets to keep you for himself and he is living for the small moments with you (such as morning cuddles) but also! with you everything is much more fun, even if both of you work multiple shifts; after each day you are so tired you can barely watch a movie. Both of you visit HoL on the regular.

Leviathan: The only reason he'd do it is to get more alone time with you. Would take ages to actually do it, but he'd prefer to live in the human world with you (it's safer + its better for anime and gaming). (Lucifer is against the idea which also slows down the process but he eventually gives in). You'd probably have an apartment in a city with fast internet connection (dw he's done his research) and where you can afford rent. He works from home (either esports or programming) so he is always there to greet you when you get home. Decorates the entire apartment with figurines and posters plus there is never enough space for him. Henry is there also. You'd think he cooks / bakes and you'd be wrong. 92% of the time it's take-out food time. Definitely needs help with chores at first but gets the hang of it easily. Occasionally you visit HoL.

Satan: Definitely would rather moving out and renting an apartment. I think he'd prefer the human world. I feel like he'd want to change cities often (every 3-5 yrs or so). He is a curious demon and there is always so much to learn about humans. Very domestic. Does the chores and he does them well. You can never complain. Somehow can balance work & you & chores. (probably needs explanation sometimes with equipment he isn't familiar with but we can excuse that) Every weekend is date weekend where you learn something new about each other and the culture of the country. Asmo visits every month or so & stays for ~3 days.

Asmodeus: hmm...i think he'd let you decide on the realm but he picks the exact location. He picks a very busy area with rich nightlife, but to your surprise he only participates like a couple of times a week, usually with you. Listen he adores being with you. Posts about your life together very often. Would start a new vlogging channel if you'd let him. Rent & bills are No Big Deal, though at first he is shocked at how expensive they are. Is fine with most of the chores but since he refuses to do the dishes, when it's him on dinner duty you both go on a date instead. Beelzebub: Refuses to move out if Belphie can't come, unless it's literally the house next to HoL. (/closest to. i'm not sure if they have like. a close neighbour) Rather domestic, does the chores and puts in work to get the bills. Sometimes you might not find him at home - he is either getting groceries or decided to visit Belphie. Would rather have a movie night with you than going out on a date. Depending on what kind of house it is, he might pick up gardening as a hobby. Belphegor: Similar to his twin he'd prefer staying close to him if possible, but if that can't happen he's fine with moving in with you in the human world. (yes he prefers that over the Devildom) Lucifer doesn't like this idea at all so you probably need to convince him.

Bills might be an issue as he keeps losing jobs but you can't really blame him for that, can you. Regaring chores, he only does the groceries, vacuuming, laundry, and changing sheets, everything else is up to you. Every Sunday you spend sleeping in & cuddling. Beelzebub visits you every week, usually on the weekends.

The rest of the characters are under the cut... long post

Barbatos: Hm... I think you'd probably need to move in the castle, or a small apartment very near. It is because of his job obviously, can't help it.

As he is the royal butler I imagine you wouldn't need to worry about bills / rent because. Yeah. Chores, on the other hand, fall on you very often - sometimes his job requires him to be there 24 hours a day. Even when he has more break time he'd rather not do chores at home as well because then he'd literally have no time left to spend with you. But when he can afford to do them, he definitely helps out & does them better than you (no shame in that tho he does this for a living)

Diavolo: Pretty obviously you move in the castle. No rent & no chores to worry about unless you are desperate to help Barbatos out.

He'd spend literally all his time with you if he could & Lucifer often scolds him for it. Neglecting work isn't a good idea right.

Every weekend there is something new to do, he spends lots of time thinking about how you are going to spend it. Also this would be the first time(s) you'd actually see him stress about work, since you live close enough to him now. (obviously he mentioned it many times before but that's a different experience) Solomon: Honestly you are free to choose where you'd want to live as he'd follow you anywhere.

Tbh I'm not sure about his finances but I'd like to imagine you don't have to worry about paying the bills. (as in: you have to work too if possible but that's ok)

He does his chores but he does them his way. If you do them differently he might comment but usually he just lets you be. It's entertaining to learn how many different ways there are to,,, doing dishes.

Simeon: Definitely prefers the Celestial Realm & I don't think there is much you can do to negotiate if you want to live with him. Similar to Solomon, paychecks aren't a big deal but it's something to consider; if possible you'd need to work to help out.

He has his favourite chores to do but occasionally he helps out with others as well, especially if he sees you might struggle / hate one.

a/n: for those wondering... no we didn't move in together yet because i'm still waiting for my vaccine... but once it's done we're ready<3 i'm a little bit nervous ngl but i'm so excited also dfgh

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1kook · 4 years

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youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3 word count: 8.7k

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him.

And then winter comes.

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years.

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household.

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute.

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets.

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick.

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house.

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable.

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold.

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him.

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional.

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.”

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before.

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again.

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty.

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house.

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions.

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever.

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through.

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times.

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner.

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong.

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor

You blink.

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago.

Oh, so this was new.

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on.

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again.

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy.

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning.

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest.

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you.

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck.

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss.

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?”

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck.

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest.

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck.

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds.

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy.

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side.

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?”

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again.

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip.

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers.

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct.

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip.

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt.

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery.

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again.

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him.

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored.

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately.

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth.

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again.

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate.

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear.

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum.

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad.

So you do.

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.”

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm.

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes.

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth.

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet.

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves.

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that.

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t.

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him.

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully.

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed.

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight.

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off.

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly.

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you.

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face.

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch.

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble.

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?”

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls.

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy.

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully.

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip.

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite.

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely.

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why.

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now.

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months.

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—”

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions.

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing.

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss.

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat.

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss.

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty.

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off.

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up.

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good.

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading.

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds.

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it.

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan.

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...”

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick.

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you.

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you.

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his.

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.”

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks.

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt.

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips.

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.”

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin.

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm.

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you.

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success.

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself.

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell.

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle.

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out.

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart.

To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death.

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying.

It fits perfectly.

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #goldenclosetnet #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jjk♡#jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #mine

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years

Text

dating the port mafia’s medic

a/n: basically headcanons of port mafia members dating one of the organization’s medics who happen to be you. i just thought this would be cute and i’m craving fluff. also these are,,, really long.

feat. akutagawa, chuuya, and odasaku

akutagawa ryuunosuke:

you were the doctor that mori specifically assigned to him to help with his lung condition

even though akutagawa was supposed to have regular, weekly sessions he’d only come in like,, twice a month and that was after you texted mori that he hasn’t been visiting you

akutagawa isn’t all too comfortable with the fact that he has to take off his shirt so that you could put him in an x-ray gown or when you need to listen to his breathing with a stethoscope

but you’re incredibly patient with him and also the pay is good so you persist

at one point during one of your sessions, akutagawa grumbles about having to come to the clinic when he just wants to live long enough to make dazai proud

and you’re like ‘is that so?’

“personally, i’d feel kind of sad if you had to die so early”

that kind of gets akutagawa thinking. he can tell by the way you said it that you had no ulterior motives behind it

akutagawa: but,,, i'm your most troublesome patient

you: oh my god you think you're troublesome ??

you start to rant abt all the patients you had to treat before who didn't believe in vaccines or got their elbows stuck in weird places

akutagawa finds your stories really entertaining so he ends up enjoying and willingly going to his sessions with you

after that first fight with atsushi, you ended up taking care of akutagawa and patching up his body

literal days of you just being at his bedside, worrying and hoping that he'll wake up and then you suddenly realize that maybe you have feelings for him

when akutagawa regains consciousness, he finds that he doesn't entirely hate the situation he's in because he gets to see you more often

he likes listening to more of your stories while you sit at his bedside. eventually he opens up with stories of his own (most of them are abt his missions so yeah)

akutagawa begins visiting your clinic more and one day he comes in even though he doesn't have a session and then agonizes over why the heck he did that

good guy senpai chuuya is basically all 'idk are you in love or something?'

to akutagawa it's utterly unacceptable and he hides his feelings for so long until you're the one who decides to confess to him

and to your surprise, he hesitantly asks if maybe you two would like to be in a relationship

you two are awkward about it at first. akutagawa doesn't really know if drinking tea at your clinic could be considered a 'date' but he does like these moments

both of you have pretty hectic schedules since m your patients are also mafia members and you have to be on-call all the time but akutagawa is really understanding

he likes seeing you in casual clothes but he also thinks you look good in a labcoat (he probably borrowed it when you were not looking to try it on)

because akutagawa has grown quite accustomed to your touch and initiates holding hands with you (in private ofc)

he's still not used to the idea of you taking care of him not just as a doctor but as his s/o but it makes a nice change for once

chuuya nakahara:

the first time he met you was after a mission when he was taking one of his subordinates to the emergency room of the infirmary

you were the doctor on-duty that night and the first time chuuya laid his eyes on you he was like 'damn'

who knew the mafia doctors were this hot amirite

ofc you were also kind of starstruck to see mafia executive chuuya nakahara in the emergency room but you had a job to do and a man was losing blood

you: what's his type?

chuuya: uh,, h/c hair, beautiful eyes, labcoat...

you: i mean... his blood type

chuuya's got it bad. after that night he couldn't stop thinking about that cute medic aka you

but he didn't even know what your shifts were so he LOOKS FOR YOUR CASE FILE IN THE RECORDS

it's like he's gonna commit a murder or something but no he's looking for information on you

the guy’s pretty impressed when he looks at your resume and definitely sees why you were hired to be a doctor at the mafia but that only makes him want to see you more

but questions is, how does he make it look like he was just ‘passing by the infirmary’ and not that he’s actively looking for you

tsundere boy is tsundere

because chuuya almost NEVER gets injured in fights and he’s got a reputation for that and now does he get himself injured on purpose just to see you?

well, the opportunity presents itself in the form of him and dazai fighting cthulhu aka lovecraft but we all know its cthulhu

chuuya wakes up on a hospital bed to you checking in on him and he almost falls off the bed in shock

but then after he gets his bearings he realizes what an IDEAL SITUATION THIS IS

although it’s kind of hard to flirt with someone when you’re in a hospital gown with an IV infusion stuck to his arm

nonetheless, he finally decides to ask you out after his last day of treatment and you’re shocked of course but agree

although your first date ends up being rain-checked because a patient comes in a new mission for chuuya comes up

actually almost all your dates get rain-checked until after a mission, chuuya decides to visit your clinic with a bouquet of flowers just when you get off your shift

chuuya: are... you free?

you: yeah. are... you free?

both of you are too tired for a fancy restaurant date so you two end up at a cozy bar to share a drink

chuuya loves listening to your stories and talking to you. he literally has his chin on his hands listening to how you made a makeshift tourniquet out of your labcoat while you were on the field

both of you are really busy people but chuuya likes to stop by your clinic once in a while

you always have fresh flowers on your table because chuuya brings them for you

sometimes he’ll come home to you already tired and passed out

oda sakunosuke:

the first time he met you was after a particularly rough mission and you were luckily there at the emergency room to treat him

this guy had a concussion and needed stitches asap but instead he was asking you to treat his companions first

you quickly treated him and let him rest and of course the first thing he asks when he wakes up is how everyone else is doing

your intrigued of course because you’ve never met a mafia member who was like him

the second time you met him, odasaku actually brought someone from the enemy faction along because he didn’t think that leaving him to die was the right choice

he didn’t know if you would treat them because you were loyal to the mafia but you also had your own moral code as a doctor to treat patients no matter who they were

odasaku stuck around the emergency room knowing that it was going to take you hours to treat the man and when you come out, you’re surprised to see him there with a cup of coffee

the two of you end up sitting in the hallway and talking about all sorts of things. you love listening to how odasaku stopped killing so that he can fulfill his dream of being a writer

he on the other hand loves hearing about how you went through the hell that was med school because you were dedicated to saving lives

maybe odasaku doesn’t mind getting injured so much because that means he gets to see you but also you can’t help but feel worried about him

one time, one of the odasaku’s adopted kids gets really sick and the first person he ends up calling is you because he has no idea what to do

to his relief, you show up right at the curry restaurant and are very much ready to help

odasaku admires how good you are with kids. even though they just met you, they’ve already taken a liking to your calm, sweet presence

you even pull out your stethoscope and let them take turns listening to each other’s heartbeats

until a kid walks up to oda to check his heartbeat and is like ‘uh,,, your heart is beating really fast’

cue all the kids singing “ODA LOVES Y/N, ODA LOVES Y/N”

you look up at oda and he doesn’t look away and now you know

after that day, oda asks if you would like to maybe have a drink with him or visit a cafe and you say that you would love to

odasaku loves to drop by your clinic because he’s such a caring boyfriend and he knows how stressed you are from your work

he even comes by in the morning to bring you your coffee and he memorizes your order

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumu-brainrot @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo @guardianangelswings @ah-kaashi

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bbrandy2002 · 3 years

Text

Little Shit:

Part 1: Wrapped Around A Finger

This is for week 96 of @wackydrabbles prompt: I can't -- I have a deadline. Prompt will be in bold.

Okay, so I couldnt fit all of this into the 2000 word limit and had to break it up and didn't have the heart to cut.

@kingliam2019 you made a request for a Little Shit story on New Year’s Eve and it only took 5 months to come up with something, so this one is for you.

If you're unfamiliar with the Little Shit series (because it has been over a year since I wrote anything for it) Nikolas is Liam and Riley's 5 year old mischievous son who just can't help from wreaking havoc, especially toward Drake. He enjoys getting a rise out of him even if he does love his Uncle ... for the most part.

Warning: Crude Language. Mention of Covid and vaccinations.

Word count: 1928

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

Returning from the stables one afternoon, Drake was stopped at the palace door by security -- again -- for not wearing the required mask to enter.

“Mr. Walker, I’m afraid you need to have a mask on before I can allow you inside. I have to tell you this every day.”

“That because I fucking live here,” Drake grumbled as he snagged the offered surgical mask from the guard.

“Not in the common areas, Mr. Walker.”

“You know this whole virus thing is just a conspiracy and Liam is using it to control all of us, right? He’s gone mad. This shit’s never gonna end.”

“I understand, sir.” The guard waited patiently as Drake begrudgingly slipped the mask over his face. “Perhaps, though, there is an alternative, one where you wouldn’t have to wear one anymore. They’re offering free vaccines in room 105 today. If you get the shot, you won’t need to wear a mask when you come inside,” the guard cajoled.

Drake let out a humorless laugh.“I’m sure that’s exactly what Liam wants: make a guinea pig out of me. Pump me full of that radioactive shit and in five years I’ll have a tail growing out of my face. No thanks.” Drake disregarded the information and moved past the man.

“But, sir .. .they’re giving away bottles of whiskey to the first 100 recipients. Last I heard, they were close to reaching that number. Top of the line stuff too.”

Drake turned on the heel of his work boots, glaring back, before asking skeptically. “Whiskey? They’re giving away alcohol to get this damn shot?” The guard nodded in response.

“Glenfiddich -- 1955, I believe. The King paid for it himself.”

Drake’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s a $90,000 bottle! And they’re just giving them away if you get this shot?”

“I … um … yes. His Majesty wants to reward those who are doing their part to create a healthier and safer Cordonia. He won’t rest until every last citizen is vaccinated from this dreaded virus. We can all fight this … together. What do you say, Mr. Walker? Will you help stop the spread?”

“For a $90,000 bottle of whiskey? Hell yeah! I’ll grow two tails out my heads for -- hold on a damn minute …” Drake burrowed his eyes into the guard who was sweating bullets, desperate for him to leave. “Where the hell is Nikolas at? This whole thing reeks of him..” Drake’s eyes began darting around the perimeter in a feverish search for the little prince’s battery operated car. “That little shit is blackmailing you, isn’t he? I should have known.”

The guard straightened and answered in a solemn tone, “I’m a serious professional, Mr. Walker. And I take your accusations of being anything but, demeaning to the loyalty and oath I’ve given to the Crown. How dare you stand there --”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.” Drake ran a hand down his weary face in frustration. “It’s just that kid is the bane of my existence. I’ve had a long, hard day at work and I’m in no mood for his fucking stunts.”

The guard waved him off. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ve heard all about the stuff he’s pulled on you.” He leaned in closer and spoke in a hushed tone, “Between you and me, he’s a little pain in my ass too; always coming down here acting like he runs this place. If you ever need help teaching that kid a lesson, I’d be happy to help.”

Drake arched a brow. “Loyalty to the crown, huh?” The man regarded that retort with an awkward shrug. “Yeah, he needs his ass busted, that’s for sure. Liam thinks he just needs a little more love. I’d like to show him the Bianca F. Walker way of love.” He slammed his hands together.

The guard chuckled. “I’m with you on that. He needs something done; he’s out of control … Anyway, you should probably head on up there and get your shot -- and whiskey -- before they’re all out. I wish I’d have waited to get mine until today.”

Twisting his face in doubt, Drake walked around the corner and leaned up against the wall as he pulled out his phone. Something just didn’t feel right, and he determined the safest thing to do was shoot off a quick text to his best friend.

Drake: Liam, are you really giving away Glenfiddich, 1955, to get the Covid vaccine?

He waited a brief moment until a response came through; he looked down at his phone and read:

Liam: Yes.

Drake: Is that all you have to say about that?

Liam: Yes.

Liam: I am in meeting for Cordonia.

Drake tilted his head to the side and scratched at it as he stared at the odd message. He typed out another response.

Drake: What kind of meeting for Cordonia? And with who?

Liam: Top secret. Can't tell you.

Drake: Uh-huh. Where’s Nikolas?

Liam: With Riley and baby in Vallteria

Liam: Shit. Valtoria

Drake: What’s the capital of the United States?

Liam: Damn it Drake I’m in a meeting!

Drake: Then hurry up and answer

Liam: Washington D.C.

Drake: Who shot me at the costume ball?

Liam: You son of a bitch. IM IN A MEETING!

Drake let out a heavy groan and decided to just call Riley. He knew without a doubt Nikolas took Liam’s phone again. If he called Riley, though, there was no way the boy could pretend he was her.

Picking up almost instantly, Riley answered cheerfully, “Hello. Queen Riley speaking.”

“Riley, it’s Drake. I was just wondering if you and Liam were really giving away whiskey for getting this shot? Sounds a little fishy to me.”

There was a moment of silence, then a clicking noise, followed by a long beep, before Riley replied. “Yes. We. Are. Giving. Away …. Whiskey. Get.The.Shot.Drake.”

“The hell is wrong with your voice?”

“I.Am.In.Valtoria.”

“Riley, why the fuck are you enunciating every word?”

“I. Have. A. Cold. And. Must.Talk.Slow. Nikolas.Is.With.Me. And. I. Must. Get ... Going. Bye. Drake ...You. Ass. Hole.”

Drake rolled his eyes and slipped the phone in his back pocket. “He’s got her phone, too. Damn that evil-ass kid.” He hesitantly made his way down to room 105; it wouldn’t hurt anything just to open the door and see if there was anything legit about this. As he approached, a lovely lady he knew from the kitchen exited with a big smile on her aging face and a bottle she cradled in her arms; he recognized it almost instantly as the Glenfiddich.

“Miss Milly,” Drake greeting kindly and held the door open for her. “You’re looking as lovely as ever.”

“Oh, you.” She laughed bashfully in her grandmotherly voice as she stepped into the corridor. “You’re always flirting with me, Drake. One of these days, I’m going to make you take me out on a date, buy me dinner, and give me a peck on the cheek at the end of the night.”

Drake smiled back fondly at her. “You just tell me when, Miss Milly, and I’m there.” He motioned to the bottle in her hand. “Say … couldn’t help but notice that bottle of whiskey you’re carrying around; where’d you get that at? That brand doesn’t come cheap.”

“Ohhh, I know. But I heard they were giving shots in that room right there.” She pointed with a crooked finger. “And they said I was the 99th person to stop by, and gave this to me after getting my shot. I couldn’t believe my luck. And they only have one bottle left. I can finally put my grandson through college.”

“That’s great! And you said there is still one more bottle left?”

She nodded her head. “Yes. But you better hurry. One of the chefs is on his way here for a shot as well.”

Drake hurriedly kissed her on the cheek and opened the door. Thank you, Miss Milly!” He stepped inside, then stopped and whipped his head back out the door. “Milly, wait. Have you seen Prince Nikolas today?”

“Yes, he left with the Queen after breakfast this morning. I believe they mentioned going to Valtoria.”

Drake rubbed his hands together anxiously and thanked her. He’d known the cook for years, she’s the sweetest person he knew. There was no way she would cover for Nikolas, and Drake couldn’t imagine the boy would have any dirt to hold over her head.

When the door shut, Nikolas grinned mischievously from a dark alcove where he was parked in his black 12V Mercedes Benz S63. “This is the day I’ve been waiting for.”

He set his laptop and both parents' phones in the passenger seat and slowly pulled out. He paid $100 to Milly and asked her to put the bottle back in his father’s liquor cabinet and rolled a few paces to room 105.

======

After filling out medical forms, the palace doctor ushered Drake behind a curtain where a long rectangular table and folding chair sat. Taking the seat, Drake watched the doctor slip on a pair of gloves and pull a small tube of lube out of his lab coat pocket. Drake furrowed his brows in confusion. “Heh. What’s the lube for?” he chuckled lightly. “I’m just here for a shot, man. Nothing else is going in me.”

“Just relax, Mr. Walker. It’s all part of the process.” A squirt of clear liquid was squeezed onto the doctor's two gloved fingers as he held them up. “On your medical forms you denied having a physical exam in the past year. I just need to do a quick exam and check for rectal polyps.”

Drake started laughing in amusement, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve got to be shittin' me. So let me get this straight. I can’t get a shot until you stick your fingers in my ass to check for ‘polyps?’ Yeah, that’s happening. What a bunch of horse malarky.”

The doctor let out an annoyed huff. “I see you didn’t read over the information forms. They never do,’ he mumbled. “Look, if you want me to wait here all day while you figure out what to do, I can’t -- I have a deadline to finish here. Now if you’ll move along, I have another patient waiting; you’re free to go.”

And Drake knew he was. But that expensive bottle of Glenfiddich was calling his name. He glanced over to that one last beautiful bottle sitting atop a desk on the far side of the room, calling his name. Selling it for even half of what it was worth would afford him enough to move the hell out of the palace and get the freedom from Nik he desired. Rubbing a hand over the scruff on his chin, Drake's timid gaze turned from the bottle to the doctor. He could handle a finger or two in ass for a few seconds if t made him $90,000 richer.

“Okay. What do I need to do?”

Nikolas quietly typed on the keyboard of his laptop from the opposite side of the curtain. The images from the hidden cameras plastered on the wall where Drake was seated popped into view on his screen. Feeding a link to, and overriding the broadcast feed at the CBC, Nik crouched down low and waited with little beady eyes for the exam to begin. “Perfect ...Okay, Doc, let’s see if you can get a hole in one.”

----------

Permanent Tags:

@burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @jessiembruno @texaskitten30 @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko@callmeellabella @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink @liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography @txemrn @thecordoniandiaries @alyssalauren @cordonianroyalty @monsoonbloom12 @mom2000aggie @theroyalheirshadowhunter @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @pink-diamond13 @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09 @gabesmommie1130 @sweatyrysconnoisour @kat-tia801 @debmcg1106 @choicesstan650 @emkay512 @royalromancer @queenrileyrose @cordonia-gothqueen

#Little Shit #Drake Walker #Liam x mc #trr #trr fanfiction

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adventures-in-poly · 3 years

Text

My interior monologue yesterday led me to the conclusion that I actually do think that multiple life partners makes sense, and is something I probably want, but multiple romantic/sexual partners makes less sense to me and kind of makes me feel physically sad in my blood.

Let’s see if I can recreate this.

Yesterday I drove 40 minutes away to help a friend buy a car. This friend has had their car totaled 3 times (each time not their fault), and has also had to move twice this year (each time because the landlord decided they wanted to move into the house the friend was renting), so it’s been... a time. The friend posted on Facebook that they needed help getting to the auto dealer, and I had nothing to do that day and it’s been a few months since I’d seen them, so I volunteered.

The friend is also practicing solo poly, although I think not by choice. They also have a swath of friends and several partners who are available to help out. I don’t remember if my friend considers themselves an extravert or an introvert, but if they’re an introvert, they’re damn well good at pretending otherwise.

This led me to the thought, “Can introverts really be solo poly?” Of course, yes they can (and I think my question could even have been rephrased as “Can introverts really be single?”, which, duh.) But as an introvert myself I can’t foresee it really working for me. I don’t have the same army of homies that my friend has. I have a few very, very emotionally close friends who I can rely on for any emotional needs. But let’s see. Let’s play count the friends. Sorry if I've forgotten anyone.

One lives 40 minutes away, has no car or driver's license, is a full time PhD student and teacher, and is caring for her dying father.

One lives an hour and a half away and is caring for her dying father.

One lives 2 and a half hours north and just had a baby.

One is that friend who lives 40 minutes away, and now that they have a car they might be able to actually help.

My boyfriend and his wife live an hour away; he works 6 days a week and she doesn't have a driver's license.

One lives an hour away.

One just moved to Seattle.

Two just moved to LA.

Two live in New York.

One lives only 20 minutes away, but has a child who is unvaccinated and is not meeting up face-to-face with anyone until he gets the vaccine.

One lives 40 minutes away and doesn't have a car, and I haven't relied on him for "I need help" things before so I don't know how that would work.

One lives 10 minutes away but doesn't reliably answer her phone.

3 live within 20 minutes of my house and have few complications. One of them travels a lot, and the other two are dating each other, so usually if one's away, they're both away.

And then there's Silver, my husband's partner, who actually could be a perfect person to rely on for help and seems completely willing to lend a hand, just I personally don't want to rely on them too much at this stage in our friendship because I don't want to feel like I'm using them.

So yeah, plenty of friends, maybe like 5 who I could ask for help if I am ever in a bind, so not nobody. But we've all got shit going on in our lives, and we've all got mental illnesses and what have you. So if I needed a lot of help pretty frequently, wearing out those 5 people who have no particular commitment to me would probably happen pretty fast.

The thing in my white-people-American-society is it's pretty much everyone for themselves, partners excepted. We're much more used to relying on partners when we need help. If I ever needed it, I'd just ask my husband (M). No question. And of course he can say no, at which point I'd turn to a friend, but the assumption with a partner is that they'll help you unless they can't. That assumption isn't there with friends, at least not in my configuration.

So I was musing on that and thinking, "But why do I always assume that M will be free? Why do we make that assumption with partners?" And I think that's sort of part of the unwritten contract with life partners. But then it doesn't necessarily make sense that one person and one person alone in your life will be able and willing to help you out at a moment's notice. Wouldn't it be better if I had a small handful of people to have that unwritten contract with? If my friends and I all lived closer and we all agreed to help each other out, or travel with each other, or hang out when one of us is bored? It could be as simple as a group text where someone puts out something they need, and the assumption is that someone in the group will meet it (not that somebody might be able to meet it if the asker is lucky).

That actually sounds lovely.

The thing about that contract is that there's no need for anyone to be romantically/sexually attached. Technically there's no need in our one-partner system either. It makes perfect sense to me that someone could marry their platonic friend, or even have that kind of contract with a family member. The legal and financial systems that are in place to privilege marriages should be opened up to accommodate any humans that want to dedicate their lives to each other, no matter what that configuration looks like.

This idea is not new. An issue that I have, though, is that when I see this kind of thing idealized about, it's pretty much always painted as a "poly utopia".

Even in my socialist, leftist, poly-friendly, queer, weirdo circles - who are totally sold on the ideas I've written about and, if asked, would absolutely argue for the decoupling of partnership and romantic/sexual feelings - seem to equate the two anyway. Why does a commune have to be poly? Why can't it be a cluster of friends who support each other and is poly-friendly? Here's the thing - it can, and not a single person I speak to would ever suggest that a member would have to be poly or romantically/sexually involved in order to be included. But we still talk as if that's a given. And that's what makes me uncomfortable.

Because I want a lot of the things that the poly community puts forward as an alternative to our mainstream society.

I just don't want that part.

#polyamory #Poly #nonmonogamy #non monogamy #Commune

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sparkleofpizza · 3 years

Text

Laid off - Tim Drake x reader

A/n: So I got laid off of work because of the pandemic and I would love to have a Tim Drake to cheer me up so I wrote this in one sitting of pure sadness, although the vaccine is here, my country has been increasing the numbers of deaths and we are basically on lockdown again, so it feels like April of 2020 all over again

Requested: no

Summary: You get laid off of work and Tim is there to cheer you up

Warnings: Pandemic, fluff, some angst

Word count: 1.3k

At first when you got laid off of work, you thought it was going to be a not very long thing - you could use the spare time to get some things straight in life. You’ve been meaning to starting to work out more, so that’s something you started doing, and that was that recipe you saw online that you’ve been dying to try out, but never had the time to cook, so you finally did the dish and it was delicious as expected. There was also that book that you wanted to finish, but always procrastinated because you were just too tired and wanted to sleep, and that tv show.

So at first, you thought you could use that small time as getting some you time, God knows you needed it. But then a month went by, then two months, and it was nearing three months that you’ve been unemployed and it was taking a toll on you. You needed a job, but it seemed no one was hiring because of the pandemic, as that was the reason you lost your job in the first place, it seemed like no one wanted to make have to take on the responsibility of the health of their employees and it was making you pissed off, and very very sad.

Tim, your boyfriend, had reassured you that it was only a matter of time before you got something new and better, but when was this time? And it did not help at all that he was a very busy person and was always working at W.E, even if they were closed off and most people working from home, he always needed to be at the office to try and be more productive. And then he was off patrolling, wearing a mask of course, you’d be damned if you allowed him to leave the house without being properly safe, and when he was not patrolling, he was working on cases.

You were starting to get paranoid that maybe you’d never get a job ever again. How were you supposed to pay the bills? Luckily, you had always saved money from your salary in case something like this ever happened. And you knew that Tim would never let you get to a bad financial position, he’d intervene before it got bad, but you didn’t want him pay for your rent and most of bills, you weren’t dating him because of his money, and you didn’t want him to think that, not even for a second.

“Oh, isn’t this a nice scene to come home to?” Tim chuckled, eyeing you from his spot on the door

You turned your head around to watch him as he took off his shoes before closing the door and putting on hand sanitizer before moving along your place to place his shoes on the laundry.

You were partly lying on the floor, doing a stretching routine you saw Pamela’s Reif YouTube and decided to see if you could learn how to do the splits. Between being unemployed and being stuck in quarantine there wasn’t much you could do.

“Hi, babe.” You smiled at him

“I didn’t realize you were this flexible.” He gave you a cheeky grin, unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his tie so he could wash his dirty clothes

You were both very rigorous with Covid, always taking your dirty shoes and clothes off as soon as you arrived home and taking a shower before putting on clean clothes. Always cleaning everything that was bought on the store, and even going as far as cleaning your shoes.

“I’ve been doing this stretching routine to see if I can do the splits, I do this everyday.”

By this point, Tim was clearly checking your ass out which made you grin up at him.

“That is a very nice thing to know.” He kneeled down to briefly kiss you on the lips “Maybe you can show me all this flexibility later, in the bedroom.”

“Are you flirting with me, Drake?”

Tim grinned, kissing your nose “Maybe, sunshine, are you going to do something about it?”

You shook your head, enjoining the attention he was giving you. To say you’ve been feeling lonely lately was something, you craved attention from anyone who was willing to give it to you. The other day Dick called you to ask how to properly bake a cake - he was too embarrassed to call Alfred - and you ended up on a two hour call with him, not like he minded, Dick enjoyed every chance he got to talk and also to learn more about his little brother’s whereabouts since Tim knew how to worry all of his family.

After Tim left to go shower, you were left alone to finish your routine and try and decide what you were going to do for the rest of the day. Soon he would leve for patrol and you’d be alone again. A feeling of sadness washed over you, you just wish there were more things you could do, but there was only so much being coped in an apartment, alone most of the time, you were running out of things to do and it was making you sad.

“So…” Tim nuzzled his nose in your neck “What do you want to do tonight?”

“Well, I will probably just want some Netflix until you get back home.” You ran your hand thought his mostly damp hair

“No, I’m not going out on patrol tonight.”

You frowned, pulling away from him “Why? You’re not hurt, are you? I swear to God that if you’re hurt and you didn’t tell me…”

The raven haired shook his head, giggling at your angry face “I’m not hurt, sunshine, I promise. I just want to spend some time with you, I know it can be really lonely being here all alone most of the day and now that you don’t have a job, I know you’ve been pushing yourself too hard to try and find things to do so you will feel like you’re doing something productive. But, babe, you don’t have to be productive all the time, you need to take some time to relax too. And I know you’ve been sad and feeling lonely.”

Your lips twisted into a frown, mostly from keeping yourself from crying. How did you get so luck to get someone as wonderful as Tim as you boyfriend?

“Hey, it’s ok.” He whispered, wiping away some tears that leaked from your eyes “Come here.”

You allowed him to pull you into his warm embrace, kissing your temple and rubbing soft circles on your back with his fingers.

“I’m sorry.” You hiccuped into his chest, making him tighten his grip on you “I’ve just been feeling so… useless lately. I’m not even good enough to get a new job!”

“Sunshine, this is not your fault! We’re living a terrible moment and most people are going trough the same thing as you, it’s ok to feel like this. You can always talk to me when you feel like this, ok? I’m always going to be here for you.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to talk.

“You’re a wonderful person, and you’re going to get a great job, I’m sure of it. And whoever has been turning you down, they are just assholes who hasn’t realize it yet what they’re missing on.”

You don’t know how long you stayed like that with Tim, but eventually he managed to calm you down, drying your tears and whispering sweet words to your ear.

“You better?”

Lifting your head from his chest, you smile at him, pecking his lips repeatedly while thanking him.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He smiled “I love you.”

“I love you so much, Timmy.” You hugged his neck “So so so so much.”

He kissed your shoulder, pulling you even closer if it was possible.

“How about I order some of your favorite food and we can watch that tv show you’ve been telling me you want to watch with me?”

“It sounds great.” You smiled against his neck, placing a kiss there

#Tim Drake x reader #Tim Drake x y/n #Tim Drake x you #Tim Drake imagine #Tim Drake fanfic #Tim Drake headcanon #Tim Drake fluff #Tim Drake #red robin #Red Robin x reader #Red Robin x you #Red Robin x y/n #Red Robin imagine #Red Robin headcanon #batboys headcanon #batboys imagine

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

pel!ivan and fedyor went through a lot of ups and some downs from the end of pel and 2021 but they also celebrated 10 years together 🥳 i hope fedyor shoved cake into ivan’s face and also you know, im sure they were mushy like the saps they are

Ivan was supposed to be out of here ten minutes ago – actually, at this point, more like twenty – but the clients are still fucking talking, and if they keep it up much longer, he’s going to add it to the bill for “initial consultation.” Drew has a man-bun and unbearably hip black glasses, and works as a developer for some start-up app that he’s tried to convince Ivan to download at least twelve times. (What does the app actually do? Don’t know don’t care.) Mia is thin, blonde, waifish, smells like essential oils, and has been flitting around with her smartphone the entire time, getting in Ivan’s way as she snaps perfectly filtered pictures of the “developmental process” and posts them nonstop on Instagram. They both have a lot of opinions on how they want the energy of the space to feel, and a preapproved list of ethically sourced suppliers. They have paid some ludicrous price for this converted loft in Prospect Heights and chose the location for its proximity to the best farmer’s markets and hippie coffeehouses. Did Ivan die? Is this hell?

Somewhat ostentatiously, he looks at his watch. “Okay,” he announces. “I think that wraps up. You have work number, so – ”

“Oh, just one more thing!” Drew has recently read one (1) book on home design and thinks he’s an expert, so Ivan is forced to suffer his idiotic opinions about the kind of tile they want to use on the kitchen backsplash. Somehow, he manages not to roll his eyes directly out of his head, for which he should be commended. Ivan has discovered that the secret of successfully dealing with people, especially clients, is to smile and nod at everything they say, while mercilessly mocking them in your head. Amazing, the things you learn as a small-business owner in Brooklyn in the year of our lord 2021. Especially when it comes to renovating overpriced tiny gentrified apartments for insufferable techno-douchebags and their vapid influencer girlfriends. And people think Ivan might want to live like this more often? No fucking thank you.

Finally (it’s another ten minutes after that, this is definitely going on the bill), they more or less wrap up, except for the fact that Mia then wants a picture with the three of them. “It’s just so important to us that we’re supporting the immigrant community,” she explains earnestly. “After all, being open, tolerant, learning from our neighbors, people who are different from us, that’s what life is all about. We just love that you’re foreign. The energy feels so right, you know?”

Ivan wonders whether to inform her that he has lived in this country for eight years and been a full citizen (passport and voting rights and everything) for three, then decides that this would venture into sharing-personal-information territory and he is having none of it. His English has improved to the point where he can handle almost all business transactions by himself, but feigning incomprehension can sometimes get him out of them when they turn really stupid. Unfortunately, that isn’t an option here, and so he diligently leans into the frame, smiling half an inch, while Mia snaps a picture of “us and our adorable Russian contractor!!” Ivan informs her of the correct flag emoji to add to the filter, decides that he’s going to add an extra fifty bucks just for that, and finally, finally, makes his escape.

It’s rush hour, and the Q is crammed as Ivan heads into midtown. So much for social distancing and not getting too close to anyone, which is the only thing from the pandemic that he wouldn’t mind keeping. Only about half the crowd is wearing masks, including him, and so he gets off at Times Square, dodges the latest lunatic standing on a soapbox and shouting about how it is all a hoax, and walks several blocks uptown, just to get some space. He finally reaches the restaurant, where he has to flash his vaccination card to get inside (Ivan, who remains Russian to the marrow of his bones, is a little irked that he couldn’t get Sputnik here and had to settle for Pfizer) and climbs up to the open-air rooftop terrace. It is only when he spots his husband, waiting at a table that overlooks the glittering evening lights of the city, when Ivan pulls off his mask and allows himself to properly smile. “Sorry I’m late,” he says. “They are the worst.”

“I figured it was something like that.” Fedyor musters a smile in return, though his eyes look permanently tired these days and Ivan would bet that he’s been scrolling through more depressing emails on his phone. Technically Fedyor is on a two-month sabbatical from work, but he can’t stop himself, and Ivan has had to pry it from his fingers on a number of occasions. “But you’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Ivan nods stoutly, they are furnished with the drinks and appetizers list, and when the waiter asks if there’s any special occasion tonight, tell him that they are celebrating their ten-year anniversary, albeit somewhat late. This was supposed to happen last spring, but obviously, nobody in New York was going out to a restaurant in the early months of 2020, and Ivan himself had barely gotten home from the hospital and still could be knocked over in a strong breeze. They’re celebrating a lot of things tonight, in other words, even if it’s now been eleven years, not ten, since the day Ivan marched into a Red Square coffee shop and engaged in – well, Fedyor has made sure to inform him that the first date didn’t go nearly as well as Ivan always thought it did. But it worked, didn’t it? Here they are, wedding bands on their fingers, a couple of successful American urban professionals who have built a nice life for themselves and are, if anything, even more madly in love than they were when this whole nutty adventure together first began. So really, if you ask Ivan Sakharov Kaminsky, it went just fine after all.

The waiter congratulates them, gives them two drinks for the price of one, and they both relax and start to talk, fully at ease in the way they only are in each other’s company. Ivan does his Mia impression in an extremely convincing falsetto (after all, [NAME REDACTED] has practice at this) and Fedyor almost dies laughing. They hold hands on the table – no need to hold them under the table – and gaze into each other’s eyes all they want, order dinner and dessert, and take a long time about it. They raise several toasts to this, to them, to ten years, may there be many more. Ivan pays the bill, his treat, and they walk slowly back to Times Square, hand-in-hand, Fedyor’s head nestled on Ivan’s shoulder. It’s New York. Nobody cares.

They ride the Q home, in all its smelly, secondhand glory, taking an hour to bang out to Brighton Beach and descending the elevated stairs into the familiar down-at-heel comfort of their Russian-American neighborhood, neon Cyrillic signs glowing in windows and somebody shouting about how if Sergei ever shows his face here again, she is going to cut his dick off. Ivan and Fedyor look at each other and snort, resisting the urge to shout up and ask what exactly Sergei did, and walk a few more minutes to their building. They climb up three flights of stairs to their apartment, unlock the door and the deadbolt, and step inside.

The instant they are home, Rasputin shoots out of nowhere, yowling as if he has been neglected for months, and curls himself around Ivan’s ankles (he is still liable to give Fedyor evil looks when he feels that this interloper has been stealing his human too often). Ivan sighs, trudges to the kitchen, points out to Rasputin that his food bowl is still half full, gets a wounded look in return, and adds an extra scoopful. Once the cat is happily snarfing down, Fedyor pulls Ivan by the hand, into the dim living room with its blowing curtains. “Come here, my love,” he says. “Hold me.”

Ivan does as ordered, because it’s his favorite thing in the world: cuddling Fedyor close, nothing but the two of them in all of time and space, swaying slowly in the blue hour with fingers and arms and hearts entwined. Ivan kisses Fedyor’s temple, and Fedyor nestles even closer, melted into his embrace. “I love you, Vanya,” he mumbles against Ivan’s collarbone. “I love you so much. I love you more than anything in the world. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Fedya.” Ivan leans down and kisses him properly, sweet and slow and lingering, as they continue to waltz in stately time to a music that nobody except the two of them can hear. “I’m still not always sure why you married me, but I am very glad you did.”

#heartrender husbands #fivan #fivan ff #ivan x fedyor #a phantom in enchanting light #pel asks #anonymous #ask #(in repayment for the pain i have inflicted on you with the lighthouse au)#(ahem)

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princess-from-another-galaxy · 3 years

Note

Sorry, This one's gonna be a long one cause nobody I know in real life cares about kpop.you don't have to answer, it's just a rant😅. But the way my heart dropped while reading all the debunking evidence in the link you sent.

I only got into kpop like a few months ago but of course past scandals pop up and like getting into stray kids obviously you discover the woojin scandal. For some reason that case and soojin's case are just haunting (maybe I'm too emotional).

And honestly it's frightening and sickening any random person can ruin some else's career simply because they have decided they don't like this person, or were bored. And they delete their accusations online and even say they were bored which is just psychotic behaviour.

What's even worse than that is it actually works! They do manage to hurt an idols reputation forever. Like yeah others say SM might be working behind the scenes and will eventually take action, but while they silently "work behind the scenes" an idol's carefully crafted reputation gets publicly destroyed. Idk if the situation will be resolved this year but the blatantly racist remarks, cyberbullying and "jokes" will follow lucas for a long time and it's just so frustrating to watch.

Why is it so easy to screw over an idol. As if idols don't go through enough from their own companies, fans, general public(being overworked, or ignored completely, extreme dieting not allowed to date or behave like a human with a personalitysometimes)...like the least they can do is publicly protect their idols who make them money. Writing an apology letter and disappearing cannot work every single time. "If it isn't broke don't fix it" well this method is horribly broken, find a new formula. Why hire lawyers for a company and not publicly make statements about investigations and taking action whether it's true or false?? Isn't that the normal thing to do?💀💀

It's just such a 180 for an international fan because cheating and bullying, while absolutely bad are not incentives to cancel someone over.

And hate the fact that fake r*pe and SA allegations get the spotlight and get heard whole real victims are attacked, made fun of or simply ignored. These topics are serious yet are dismissed and someone lying about it just makes them into a bigger joke and harder for victims to get some justice. Really just hate how warped it all is in general, not just in the music industry.

It's also weird because now that I hear it's common for someone to come out with someone when nct plans to release something, I'm more anxious than excited for nct 127's comeback but I hope it successfully happens. And I feel like wayv will still exist because of the SM schedule you also posted (bless you for continously having links and posts and giving us hope it might publiclyand drastically change by Decemberor even next year).

It's just overall frustrating I guess? Because liking SM foreign kpop idols seems to be more of an emotional rollercoaster ride than anything (e.g💀they seem to be locked up in the dungeon , looking at you winwin and shotaro). Like SM is terrible at promoting their idols but wow it's even worse for second gen idols and foreign idols. That's why we love the SM artists not the whole company itself because music companies all over the world are just....wow to say the least.

In conclusion, I just hope lucas is okay and that when things get publicly cleared he'll still be the loud, chaotic talented guy he is. And that when he comes back he isn't bullied or attacked for still being in nct, wayv and superm. Too many antis are enjoying being on the bandwagon when it comes to nct.

Aww, anon, I want to give you a hug...

I agree with every single thing you said.

I'm glad the links and stuff I post make you feel better, I spend a lot of time on Twitter and reddit looking for stuff and checking for updates.

The thing about those antis that are saying those things about Lucas (and will keep saying them regardless of what is proven) is that they were never really fans. They were the people who claimed to be fans and then made colorist "jokes" and insulted him and when they were called out for it, deleted their tweets and just retweeted those things on priv...

From now on regardless of what happens the truth is that most of these people will keep believing that he did these things. I saw a Woojin TikTok today (it showed up on my fyp) and half the comments were questioning why he could continue his career, completely ignoring (or just bring new fans and going by what they hear from other fans) that he has been proven innocent by the Seoul police department....

I hope Lucas's is ok, and that things can go back to normal soon.

(sorry if I sound weird I just got my 2nd shot of the vaccine and it gave me a killer headache)

#kpop #nct #wayv #superm #lucas wong #xuxi #yukhei #stray kids #woojin #sm town #sm entertainment #label v

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bangtanlalaland · 4 years

Text

a dose of relief | ksj (m.)

synopsis ⇣ the CDC’s hottest scientist so happens to be your lab partner. how much longer will it take until he has you begging for him?

— health scientist!au

⇢pairing: CDC health scientist!kim seokjin x female reader

⇢genre: crack, pwp, smut

⇢word count: 5.7k

⇢contents ⨯ warnings: so sorry for this filthy porn with no plot, I’m also horrible @ science (even though it’s one of my fave subjects in school) so plz forgive me if I said something wrong or certain facts are incorrect, I tried to not use so many details/specifics on the science ooey gooey stuff in case that could trigger anything amongst readers, srsly tho somebody call the fanfic writing police, omg, there’s so much tension lolol, Jin is a dom in this OMFG, masturbation, mentions of an outbreak (oops sorry), lab sex (yes, I really went there plz don’t judge me [I know I’m a dirty hoe]), semi-public sex? (not really, but almost) use of sex toys, hair pulling, spitting, face/ass/pussy slapping & licking (oop), unprotected sex (lolol the irony; STAY SAFE!), orgasms (duh), creampie, degradation, so much name calling (holy fuck), JIN HAS A BIG DICK OK (BECAUSE WE LOVE BIG DICKS RIGHT?!)

a/n: honestly I find it so hard to write for Jin & IDK WHYYY. so I couldn’t pass up this opportunity to let the light shine on him for this one. besides, Jin would make the PERFECT hOTTesT SCIENTIST. because WHY NOT?!?! oh & let this fic just be a reminder for those of you out there (you know who I’m talking about): WEAR A GODDAMN MASK.

Seokjin Kim.

The name of the most handsome man in the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and yet you cannot spend a minute around him without perspiring. Because, well, you’re convinced he just has that affect on everyone. When in reality, it’s really only you. You sweat bullets being around him.

And he knows this. Which is why he’s near you again, looking just as sexy as he did the day before, attired in his white, lab coat — his blonde tresses clouding your vision as he wanders through the lab. You internally curse the universe for having made you both cross paths. You’d often speculate why he’s working here as a scientist. Shouldn’t he be somewhere on the front cover of like GQ Magazine or something? But no, for whatever reason, in this fucked up world we live in, he’s currently in the lab with you, performing test results, by using various liquid solutions.

“Ah, I can’t wait to finally clock out tonight.” Seokjin states while flicking a test tube that remains between his glove-covered fingers, gently placing the blood sample along with other tubes in the tray to be put away in the cooler.

“Hot date I’m assuming?” You question with a secret hint of jealousy oozing from your words — observing a sample through the microscope, turning the knobs to adjust the coarse and fine focus.

Jin beams at your assumption, shaking his head, “Ah. Nice one. But no.”

Your gaze flies up to his towering figure, raising your eyebrows, “So what is it?” You try not to get too lost into staring at his plump, pink lips. He almost catches you eyeing him and you instantly look away, darting your vision back into the microscope.

“I have the whole weekend off,” He coos with a giddy expression, and you internally scoff. That fucker.

You shake your head, “Sounds great!” No, it doesn’t sound great. Because he’s probably happy that he gets to be off so he can be with someone- Wait, no. He’s clearly not going on a date. Duh, he just told you that. Okay, now you’re really just fishing for something, but you’re also jealous of him that he’s off the entire weekend. These past few months have been hell, courtesy of a recent outbreak — every official, scientist, representative and whomever in the CDC is currently working day and night, non-stop to formulate a vaccine. Therefore you shuck away your feels, because you know Jin has more seniority than you within the company. You’d only just been transferred to his department right before the outbreak had occurred.

“Some well needed rest, huh?” You question, an attempt to keep the conversation going while also being the nosey old woman you are deep down inside. “You need it,” You unconsciously continue, somewhat too occupied in ensuring the proper amount of the sodium hypochlorite solution drops are added, squeezing the pipette carefully.

Jin nods his head in agreement, “Oh yeah,” he sighs, “Could definitely use what I call the Four S’s.” Your eyebrows furrow, more-so at concentrating on your accuracy.

But you hear him, and once the final drop of solution has been added, you pull away from the microscope, discarding the pipette in the proper disposal bin. “Four S’s?” You ask, with a tilt of your head.

“Mmhmm,” Jin seats himself on the stool in front of you, placing his hand under his chin. “Soup, soju, sex, and sleep.”

You nearly topple over when trying to seat yourself, and he doesn’t miss your clumsiness either. He thought it was cute how flustered you suddenly became, and he knew why you had. The word sex having stood out amongst the others he’d mentioned. You’re smoking under his gaze, a sudden wave of heat flashing over you within the blink of an eye. Ugh, how you hate the way he does this to you. Whatever this is. With a flicker of his eyebrows, a coy grin creeps upon his face. And you nervously swallow a gulp, easing the parched feeling in the back of your throat.

Awkwardly, you clear your throat, “Sounds like one hell of a weekend.” He continues his smirk at you, and at this point you grow slightly annoyed. Oh, his stupid hot face. Why does he keep staring like that?

“What?” You deadpan.

With a suck of his teeth, he pushes himself off the stool and stands up on his two feet, “Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone,” he coos with a wink. Yes, the fucker actually winked! You had to double check within your mind that you’re fully conscious because you couldn’t believe he did that. Jin doesn’t flirt with you, like ever. And you know that even he knows this, that grin still plastered upon his face. How the hell does he do it? Do this to you?

The sound of the door clicking signals his departure, to what you only assumed he was going on his lunch break. But the real question is, does he know? He must know that you are attracted to him, otherwise he wouldn’t have insinuated you’d “miss” him. Fuck. You’re screwed and you know it. Unfortunately not in the way you’d like to be screwed.

—

The weekend didn’t fly by like a breeze as it normally would, but instead dragged. You thought at one point the time may have just frozen, but subconsciously you knew that wasn’t even remotely possible. Although, you’re convinced that the reason for it all is because Seokjin wasn’t there. Normally, you’d both share the same shifts on weekends and everything felt in tune. You’d complete tests, run samples, and literally anything else under the sun together. But the time felt different when with him, and you’re beyond relieved to find that the end of your shift approaches. You both say your farewells and do it all over again the next day. It became a routine, really, one that you’d grown accustomed to.

However, since his weekend off, you felt something change, and you didn’t like it. You noticed since the start of your shifts, he permeated an odd vibe. Jin wasn’t making eye contact with you, and hell he didn’t greet you when he clocked in. Even when you’d discussed to your boss that after copious amounts of research and tests, the sodium hypochlorite solution kills various diseases and viruses, including HIV/AIDS, although said concoction is overly toxic for ingestion.

Seokjin never spoke or added anything from his research to back up your claim, which was completely degrading to you, because well… teamwork — he made you feel as though the countless amount of hours you’d both spent in the lab together was a waste. So yes, it was strange. He was acting strange, and you didn’t know whether to be gloomy or pissed about it all. After the meeting with the board, discussing the current problems with hygiene and public health, you returned to your station with Jin. You decide to test the waters and break the awkward silence since he wouldn’t.

You clear your throat in an attempt to draw his attention, but fail, his back still turned to you, “How was your weekend?”

He continues his work, not even flinching when you’d suddenly spoke. He replies so fast you were convinced he just knew exactly what you were going to say and simply waited for you to do so.

“Great,” he retorts with a nonchalant tone. You hear a few snap-like sounds and immediately note that he’s placing his gloves on. He brushes past you and into the cooler, removing a tray of blood samples to set them down onto the counter. You bite back a remark and instead try again.

“Had any good soup?” You internally cringe at yourself for saying something so stupid, but you can’t help but be the curious cat you are. Then his silence doesn’t make it any better. Here you are again, “Or at least some proper rest?”

His eyes finally meet yours, and you can’t quite read his pokerface. “I did,” He adds with still the most blank expression you’d known him to make. His gaze drops back toward the test tubes he’s busied himself with.

You continue to probe him, even though your insides scream otherwise, “Couldn’t have forgotten about the soju too, right?” You question, a tone laced with curiosity. He makes a simple “mmhmm” sound, clearly understanding where you’re going with this. A brief moment of silence subsides between the both of you, and for a moment you appreciated it but another side of you just had to know. Your essence ached for an answer, even though if said answer wasn’t one you’d want to hear, you still had to know. And you swear the phrase, “Curiosity kills the cat” could explain this moment in time.

“W-what about….” You trail off, in hopes he’d catch on. His eyes meet yours, and you can’t help but want to shribble up under his stare — whilst his defined lids peer into you, as if cascading into your soul.

“What about what?” Jin knows the next question you want to ask, and part of him wishes you’ll just ask already. He needs your inquiry of his sexcapades, because truth be told, he has none; and he’s on the brink of bending you over on this counter and fucking you senselessly — a burning ache, desperate to release his pent up frustration, mixed with the daily stresses that come along with work. His eyes linger onto your facial features, searching for a warning that you’d finally cave in, that by some miracle you’d admit you want him in just as a lustful manner as he wants you. Needs you. His weekend having been a long, cold, and lonely one. He’d desperately yearned for a woman’s touch, a dry spell long overdue.

He notes how your lips part and eyes widen, as if you’re stuck like a deer in headlights and don’t know how to simply let the words flow from your tongue. His pink, plush lips catch your attention, his bottom lip protruding in a manner that’s tempting for you to simply lick the flesh — the need to graze your teeth along the tissue clouding your mind. You suck in a quiet gasp, but audible enough for Jin to hear you. The sudden twitch of his member down below, the visual of having you whimper underneath him having flashed through his imagination. You instinctively obscure any second thoughts of your actions, because if he didn’t want you to know then why would he have mentioned the “Four S’s?” It’s like he’s calling your name, indirectly. Seokjin knows how curious you’ve always been, and it’d be silly to not know such a fact. After all, you’re a scientist that works for the CDC.

The more dense part of you spills, “Well, you know-” His eyebrow quirks up at you, as if not falling for your little trap. No, he wants to hear you say it, he wants those words coming out of you and streaming to his eardrums.

That familiar hum he has a habit of making slips from him, “Hm- No, I don’t.

He proceeds to his previous endeavors, scouring through the cabinets for some tools. You stand there dumbfoundedly, and cursing your own self for not having the courage to just speak your mind. Seokjin marvels at your conflicted expression, thanking his own self for not giving in so easily — because he wants to confirm his assumptions and needs you to make that move. He definitely didn’t want to be the first to impose, just in case you were to reject him and immediately perform some type of backlash technique. The last thing he needed was to lose his job and/or face a lawsuit for harassment. He ignores your stiff figure and gracefully mixes various liquids into a beaker. Your fingers tap along the counter and mind races hundreds of miles per hour. Just do it.

“Sex,” You whisper. His stirring stops suddenly and eyes move to yours with a slight tilt of his head. “Did you… Have sex?” You add, voice barely above a whisper. Jin sighs in relief, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders — the air now somewhat less stuffy, and he chooses to stifle back a moan of satisfaction at your question. And within an instant, he scoffs, sending a rush of discouragement over your being.

He shakes his head while a sly grin paints upon his face, “Wouldn’t you like to know, hm?” You roll your eyes at him, can’t even believe the audacity. Of course, you should have known he’d be comical about it. Because that’s what Jin does, which makes you question how he’d even passed the entire hiring process to be promised and given this position.

With a slight pull of your strands out of frustration, you retort, “What the hell, Jin? You were the first one to mention “the Four S’s” You make sure to exaggerate air quotation marks on the phrase.

“And now you’re acting like you can’t even say if you’ve gotten some over the weekend. What am I not allowed to ask you questions anymore?!” Seokjin stares at you with wide eyes, immediately making you feel guilty for your sudden outburst. But what was he to expect? How could he not think you’d be curious of how his weekend ended after revealing to you his much needed desires. You palm your face in embarrassment, not wanting to meet his gaze any longer. And that’s when he removes his gloves, discarding them in the designated bin, and the feel of his palms encase around yours, pulling you from your hidden position to reveal your face that’s now strained with a painful look.

“If it makes you feel any better… I haven’t had sex.” His sweet voice oozes of comfort, granting a sense of calmness to reside within you.

“It’s been so long, and I am actually going to lose my mind if I don’t soon enough.” His confession causes you to gasp lowly, and he notices this. You hadn’t realized he was still holding your hands, his fingers long and cold, rubbing light circles within your palms. You know that he’s telling the truth; his eyes screaming for attention. Jin is desperate, and you sense that, which would explain why he’d been so tense ever since showing up to work today. You take this chance to take in every feature he has to offer. His broad shoulders aiding to tower his figure above yours just as he constrains his neck slightly to glare into your eyes. Your mouth flies agape just by an inch, and you hadn’t realized how close Jin was to you. You could feel the warmth of his breathing from his nostrils hitting you like the heat boiling down below.

You had a dire need to just smash your lips with his to finally know what the pillow-y tissue feels like between your own. His deep, chocolate irises reeling you in and suddenly your hand clenches tight underneath his touch. He notices and releases his grip from you, not realizing he’d been holding you this entire time.

And then you break the ice suddenly, “I think you should get that taken cared of soon.” Jin watches your form whilst you depart yourself from the room. Entering the main hall, you hadn’t processed how warm the atmosphere in the lab had been — a thin sheen of sweat coating your face and neck, courtesy of Seokjin Kim.

—

And then things got weirder.

There was this unspeakable tension between the two of you. You hardly made much eye contact with him at work now. You trained yourself (somewhat) to not ask so many questions during your shifts together, and if Jin noticed this then he definitely didn’t show or tell that he did. You’d find yourself going home at the end of the day and pulling out your favorite vibrator just to orgasm at the thought of Seokjin and his rosy, juicy lips, slender fingers that you know could reach the highest of places; those silky, light, blonde strands that long for you to tug on them as he buries himself in between your legs. However, Jin does the same, even on that weekend when he was off. He coated himself in lubricant and acquired his pocket pussy to stuff his thick length through the silicone material, imagining that it was your walls encasing around his cock instead.

Bucking his hips upwards, wanton moans spilled from him whilst he continued to ride out the waves of pleasure he’d endured just by dreaming of you. He continuously re-played the sight of your face over and over again in his mind, when you’d looked up at him that day in the lab — with glossy, bright eyes twinkling of curiosity. He wanted right then and there to shove himself down your throat and make you choke on his big dick. At the moment his groin tensed up and balls ached to release his load, he moaned your name repeatedly, as if he was summoning you into his bed. Streams of his cum erupted into the sleeve, soaking his length with the creamy substance just as he huffed for air, an attempt to gain back his normal breathing pattern.

And then the next day…

He did it again.

But this time it was different. He opted for his palm instead and your voice. He scrambled through anything in his phone that could get him off, more like anything of you in his phone. Until it dawned on him. You’d left him a voicemail back when you first got hired, introducing yourself to him and asking him to give you a call back to discuss work-related matters.

Bingo.

Your voice sent tingles down his spine as it resonated through the speakers of his iPhone. Jin quietly hummed at your words, as if he was agreeing to what you were saying — even though it had nothing to do with sex or pleasing him in any matter.

“Wish you were here,” He slips with his eyes shut, whilst his palm eagerly strokes his stiff cock, fingers gently brushing along the vein on his shaft.

“Need you so bad. Want to make you scream my name.” He replays it again with a hiss through his teeth. Drips of precum seep from the head of his cock; he lightly grazes the flesh with his long fingers, stimulating the sensitive area. The squelching noises from his slick length can be heard throughout his apartment as he pumps himself vigorously.

Another uncontrollable hum spills from Jin when he replays the recording again, picturing you on your knees blowing him off until you lose your breath.

“Hi Mr. Kim!”

How much he loves when you call him that. He’d almost forgotten when you used to address him that way, until he insisted that you didn’t have to and to simply refer to him as Jin.

“Mmm, love it when you used to call me that,” Jin whispers softly.

His hips move on their own, bucking up into his hand. His thighs clenching as he continues to fuck himself through his palm, and with furrowed brows he claws the sheets of his bed at the sound of your voice.

“This is ____, I was just transferred to your department and was told to follow up with you for any questions I may have.”

Jin’s hums now turned into moans, “Oh, fuck. Want to make you cum on Mr. Kim’s cock.”

“Anyways, if you could please give me a call back then I would really appreciate it. I look forward to meeting you!”

Jin’s toes curl at the last statement, his lips part instinctively and thighs stiffen themselves. His impending orgasm approaches as he cries out in pure bliss, “Oh, yeah! F-fuck!”

His chest rises and falls when streams of cum project onto his abs, some coating his fingers — while he softly pumps himself to rid of the remaining secretions. His loose strands stick to his forehead, thanks to the built up perspiration due to the raise in his body temperature. Jin lies there with a shaky breath and trembling thighs paired with thoughts of you. How much he wished his cum hadn’t gone to waste, how he wished he could cum so much inside of you that you gush pools of his jizz when he removes himself out of you. And lastly, how he’s nearly on the brink of risking it all just to be inside you.

—

One morning you break through the doors of the lab you share with Jin, to find him peering through a microscope. You can’t take it anymore; it’s been too long since the day you’d met him that you wanted to literally devour him whole. The need to hold your composure now thrown out the window completely. You snatch your badge off of you followed by your coat and slam your hand onto the counter, startling him from his work.

“I need you to fuck me until my brain is dead and I forget who I am and that we are in the middle of a pandemic.”

Seokjin’s mouth and eyes fly as wide as they can go. Without hesitation, he perks up from the stool and nearly tumbles over to tear his gloves off, remove his glasses, coat, and protective mask. He hurriedly washes his hands in the nearby sink, his eyes still traced on your uptight form. With lips still parted, he makes his way back to you and grips your sides, caressing you as if he’s admiring this moment of you standing here in front of him, begging for only him. He can’t process what’s actually happening and so he opts to do so later, and instead just appreciate this moment — a dream that finally came true. Unexpectedly, he lunges you against the counter, causing your back to hit the handles of the drawers.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that?” He admits with a tone that’s mixed with lust.

Jin’s warm breath breezes past your face, sending a wave of chills down your spine. He cups your cheeks, and captures you in a heated kiss. His plump lips smooth out your own, a faint hint of coffee left on his tastebuds that signals you he more than likely had a cup of Joe this morning — your kisses filled with a fiery passion you didn’t know would finally come to light. His hands fall down to grip your waist in a feverish manner. Your fingers laced into his hair, an action you’d wanted to perform for what seems like forever now. His strands feel like satin under your fingertips.

His hands trail down to your ass cheeks, gripping the cushions with a hungry force. A rush of wetness seeps into your panties, and you silently convince yourself that you’d never been more horny until now. With teeth and tongues clashing, hands roaming along each others bodies, you both lose yourselves within each others touch — drifting into the euphoria of finally being relieved of the backed up tension that accumulated over these lonesome months. This moment in time was everything Jin had wished for. He yearned to have you in this way, and he’d only accept it if you were comfortable with doing so. The pang in his groin area throbs due to his high libido. Those nights he’d spent jerking himself off to the thought of you were now just a memory. When the burning need to breathe approaches, you both pull away panting for air. Jin’s already full lips now swollen and wet, his gorgeous almond-shaped eyes staring down your form in awe.

Your palms rest on his wide shoulders, caressing them with desperation.

“Please, Jin.” You plead with a whine. Within a swift he turns you around and bends you over. Your grip lands on the counter, knocking down the numerous utensils he’d previously been using, an almost failed attempt at keeping your balance. Jin roughly pulls your garments down, showcasing your panties. He brushes his digits along your covered core that pulses, almost as if speaking to his fingers. He applies more pressure, earning a small whimper. His erection gradually growing itself behind his briefs. He uses his index finger to pull your lacy undergarment to the side, a final reveal of your juicy lips. Your core clenches in front of him, as if calling to welcome him within your walls.

And suddenly a harsh slap lands on your delicate womanhood. You nearly fall apart on the spot at the abrupt infliction.

“That’s Mr. Kim to you.” He slips harshly and yanks your panties down to your ankles, your feet having tossed them somewhere in the distance. You hear the unbuckling of his belt, and he swiftly drops his trousers on the ground along with his briefs pooling at his ankles. His erect cock springs up, teasing the cheeks of your ass. And before you could even turn your head to take in the view of him, Seokjin slaps your lips a few times, the tip of his cock grazing against your clit while doing so. He then shoves himself entirely into you within one go, not even thinking to spare you even just for a moment. You knew you didn’t have to actually see his dick to know how big it is because damn did he stretch you out like you’d never been stretched before. You relentlessly pulsate around him, soaking him in your juices.

The pads of your fingertips grip onto the edge of the countertop. “Oh fuck me, oh!”

“Wow, you’re so tight. Fuck.” Jin moans. You find your hair being pulled back; he whispers into your ear, “I’m going to fucking give it to you, you hear me?” His large palm lands a rough smack to your ass cheek.

“Yes! S-sir!” You cry out, and another slap reoccurs, a familiar tingly sensation shoots straight to your heat. You didn’t think Jin was this dominate, but you’re convinced after such a drastic period of time, it would only make sense that he’d release his tension as he pleases. He creates his own brutal pace — relentlessly pounding your pussy out with no mercy. Your body bounces forward from Jin’s ferocious strokes, and your scalp aches from his tug on your hair.

“So wet, so tight,” He whispers to himself, blowing yet another smack to your bottom, followed by a gentle rub, an attempt to ease the soreness. You’re sure he’d leave a mark on you. The sound of his balls clapping against your cheeks resonates through the lab, and you internally pray that no one walks in because how fucked you’d both be if that happens. But at the same time, you really could care less because you’re being fucked by the hottest man in the company and that’s what matters right now.

“Fuck me, Mr. Kim! Please don’t stop!” His tug on your hair gets tighter. His delicate strands flapping up and down in the process of him hammering into you, his Adam’s apple bobs as moans emit from him, and his cock drenches itself in your arousal. He cherishes the sight of his dick entering and exiting your kitty, only for him to thrust forward into you with a sharp jab. He treasures your soft whimpers and cries of his name.

Jin pulls himself out of you completely, and you whine at the sudden loss of contact.

“Turn around,” With shaky legs, you comply and Jin gestures you to sit down on the stool — wrapping his arms under your knees and pulling your legs apart as wide as they can go, your drenched cunt on full display for his horny being.

You can finally see him and nearly cum on the spot at the sight of his huge cock. It’s beautiful, he glimmers of your wet — his mushroom tip approximately the same shade of color as his lips. He gives your pussy a few taps, mimicking a “knocking on the door” motion. The tip of his member prods your entrance, your fingers grip his forearms in hopes to not crumble from his ministrations, your legs eagerly wrapping themselves around his small waist. Once Jin’s length pushes past your folds, your walls immediately welcome him inside.

A fervor moan spills from you, and this time he doesn’t let up on your tender core, continuing where he left off with his rigid pace. With one hand gripping your waist, he uses the other to grip your neck, “Look at you all needy and desperate,” He slaps your face teasingly, earning a yelp from you. “I knew you wanted me this whole time.”

Another slap with a bit more force. A soft gasp falls from your fucked out self.

“Wanted me to destroy your tight little pussy just like this?” He forces a deep thrust, followed by another and another and another, gaining a strained cry from you. Your walls contract around his hardened length, begging for his motions to never stop. He slaps you again, making sure to leave a mark behind on your cheek.

“Speak when you’re spoken to.” He uses this time to slap your clit harshly, unsatisfied with not receiving a response from you.

You whimper in reply, a sudden jerk of your thighs, “Y-yes, Mr. Kim!”

Jin slaps you again, “Who’s a cock-hungry little slut for Mr. Kim?” He continues to slap your face again, alternating between your left and right cheek.

And again.

His filthy words cause a tingly sensation straight to your core, “Me. I-I am a slut for you, Sir.”

And again.

That familiar hum rumbles from Jin’s chest, an approval laced in satisfaction, “Mmm, that’s right. You’ll walk around this facility with my cum buried deep inside you. Understand?” He punctuates his question with a thrust so deep, you swear you feel him in your tummy.

“Yes, Sir!” You cry out with trembling legs. He’s hitting your sweet spot so well, and with another slap to your face, your eyes prick with tears. Jin’s overpowering demeanor is nothing like you’d ever seen before.

“Play with your clit.” He demands, and you follow. Your fingers find the nub to gently rub along the sensitive nerves, causing your thighs to twitch within Jin’s hold.

“Harder,” he commands. You comply and add more pressure, a boiling heat rising in the pit of your tummy. You close your eyes and focus on the sounds of Jin’s panting and your thighs smacking against his. He lands another harsh slap to your face, and squeezes your cheeks together with one hand.

“Open your mouth.” You obey him and find yourself opening up as he requests. He drops a line of his warm saliva onto your tongue, and demands, “Swallow.”

Your clit throbs in pleasure and he notes you’ve stopped rubbing yourself. With a gulp, you ingest his spit with a whimper. Jin slaps your clit this time, your legs naturally jerking in response.

“Did I tell you to stop touching yourself?” He probes while halting his thrusts. You nod your head in a no gesture, “N-no Sir.”

He slaps your aching clitoris repeatedly, then pulls himself out of you. Your walls cry at the loss of his thick cock. He bends down to forcefully slap your pussy, running his fingers along your dripping heat and within moments he lewdly spits on your wet folds, his saliva now glistening your already soaked labia. His tongue darts out to slither along your lips and he places a wet kiss to your clit before pulling away.

“I’d love to keep eating you out, but I’ve been dying to get inside this pussy,” He sheathes his member back inside of you and buries himself to the hilt, pulling back out all the way and slamming back into you. He releases another trail of his spit onto his shaft, smothering himself more. He licks the pad of his thumb and rubs your clit relentlessly, while giving you short and fast strokes; and suddenly your toes curl themselves at the same time your eyebrows furrow.

Seokjin notices your contorted expression, and with a beaming grin, he coos, “That’s right. Cum for Mr. Kim like the good, little slut you are.”

“Cumming, Oh fuck!” Your body quivers within his hold while your orgasm overtakes you, even the stool you’re still seated on slightly skids across the floor beneath you. Jin helps to ride your orgasm out, applying just the right amount of pressure as you writhe underneath him. Your nails graze along his clothed biceps, his sleeves now scrunched and wrinkled, and you honestly have no shame — too lost in being drowned into your orgasm.

He groans at the feel of your cunt contracting around his cock, his thrusts now gaining a sloppy momentum. “Fuck, didn’t know you could get so tight.” His eyes fall down to his cock — the sight of your lady lips sucking him in entirely and contracting around his shaft tips him over the edge.

Seokjin gazes into your eyes with parted lips and lets out a shuddering moan dipped in ecstasy, his nails dig into the flesh of your waist as he rides out his high.

“Fuck,” he breathlessly says. A sudden warmth down below causes you to witness Jin’s cock pulsing as thick ropes of his cum surges into you, painting your walls and filling you up entirely of him. He joins you in watching himself gradually ease out of you. You clench your walls intentionally; Jin’s cum drains from your fucked out heat and drips onto the ground.

You both remain in silence, the sound of your breaths filling up the entire space. Before you could even process what just happened, or simply let out a syllable or two, the double doors of the lab burst open.

There stood a tall, slender man with glasses and a dark-chocolate, bowl cut. His deep, baritone voice sends a shuddering chill through you.

“Someone’s got a lot of explaining to do.”

“Ah, shit.” Jin whispers, with both hands on his hips and his soft length now flaccid. You cover your face in your palms, in full shame.

#bts smut #jin smut #hyunglinenetwork #btsguild #btsgoldnet #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #btswritingcafe #mikrogalaxynet #ficswithluv #kim seokjin

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kaimelia · 4 years

Text

It Ends With Us

a/n: okay first off, I would like to replace that this is partially inspired by one of my FAVORITE BOOKS EVER! it’s called It Ends With Us by Colleen Hoover and I will recommend it until the day I die. a life-changing read, honestly. but, this is a post 17x08 fic and it reminded me of a scene from the book!

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

"Okay," she whispered, pushing lightly against his chest, "you really do smell like whiskey." Link winced and stepped away from her.

"Yeah, I didn't think about that." He brushed his hand through his hair; his lips pursed tightly. "Crap, I'm sorry." Amelia shrugged, sitting back down onto the bench and grabbing her mug from the windowsill.

"Where did you go today?" Link leaned against the half wall behind him.

"To Jo's." The neurosurgeon nodded in silence, watching him fiddle with a zipper on his jacket. "I shouldn't have left earlier. I just needed some space, and I wasn't thinking."

"Zola was telling me about her project. With the pill to live forever," she smiled, nursing the mug of tea between her hands, taking small sips. "She said you'd take it." He returned the smile on her face and nodded.

"Of course. I would never have to worry about leaving you and Scout." Link looked behind him at the night sky. "Seeing the fallout of Andrew's death, I just would hate to put everyone in my life through that pain." Amelia hummed softly and stood up, resting her arms on the wall beside him and leaning on them.

"I'm sorry that I got so upset about the whiskey." He glanced down at her. "I've just been thinking more about drinking recently and how I wish I could. Then I found the bottle, and it reminded me of being a teenager, hiding drugs and drinks from my mom." His face softened as he watched her observe the stars, a single tear rolling down her cheek. She wiped it away. "It's not your fault."

"No, I should've talked to you. I've been thinking a little selfishly recently." The neurosurgeon met his eyes. "When Jackson and Winston were over yesterday, I said something about how Meredith dying would screw up my life." Amelia couldn't help but laugh, covering her mouth with her hand.

"We're all thinking it. That doesn't mean that you don't care about Mer and her wellbeing." He grimaced. "I've been thinking the same. The kids are so sick of us; they just want their mom back. I don't blame them," she admitted.

"Can I ask you something?" She raised her eyebrows at him and smiled. "Remember when we found out you were pregnant, and we were trying to decide if we wanted to keep the baby?" He waited for the nod of her head before continuing. "If you had known about the pandemic, would you have made the same decision?" She looked back out into the sky and sighed.

"I mean, now, I wouldn't change anything. Scout's the best thing to happen to me. But I think if some magical, all-knowing voice had told us that the world would fall apart in front of us right after our son was born, we probably wouldn't have chosen to keep him." He didn't recognize the expression on her face, her blank stare and solemn features looking colder than usual. "We both were a little terrified," she mused, staring down into the empty cup in her hands.

"We both are still a little terrified," he joked. She nodded in agreement.

"I wanna go get more tea. Do you want some? I like being out here with you and just talking."

"I'll go shower real quick, wash my body really well and scrub the whiskey smell off." She smiled.

"I'll meet you back out here soon." Link followed her into the house, running up to their bedroom and pulling out some neatly folded pajama pants, and heading into the bathroom. He showered in record time, dressing and running back down the stairs. Amelia had settled back on the bench, wrapped up in a knitted blanket with a steaming mug of tea in hand. Link grinned at the sight, watching as she flipped the page of the book she was reading. She looked up a moment later. "Hi," she whispered, patting the empty space next to her.

"You looked peaceful," he commented, taking the mug she was handing him. He sipped the tea as she adjusted the blanket to drape over their legs. The exhaustion resting in her face was evident to him, and he felt a tang of guilt.

"Everyone was surprisingly well behaved today. And now I get to relax out here." Amelia wrapped her sweater around her body tightly as a breeze hit. "Tell me something."

"My parents set a date for their wedding. July 25, they think everything will be over by then."

"That's only a month away."

"I basically told them we're not coming. There's no way I'm leaving the state to go to a wedding." She frowned. "I'm trying to talk them out of it."

"Nancy's practically trapped my mom in her house. She's worried that if mom leaves too much, she'll get COVID and die," Amelia muttered, tugging at the string of the teabag in the cup. "Are they still asking about visiting Scout?" He nodded.

"I told them no visits until there's a vaccine."

"That could be a year; you're sure you don't want to quarantine somewhere and meet up with them?" He shrugged. "I don't blame you, though. I'm just lucky my family understands how bad this is."

"Amelia, are you really worried about how much I drink?" Her eyebrows rose at his question, her head snapping to look at him. "And, I'm genuinely asking. I think I should be conscious of it," Link confessed.

"I mean, I'm an addict. I'm always on high alert when someone drinks, so I think I'm more likely to overreact about it." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've just seen so many people who've lost everything to alcohol." A soft laugh escaped her mouth, almost a doubtful one. "I've lost everything to alcohol. And now, I have you, and I don't want to lose you."

"You'll tell me if you get more worried, alright?" The brunette agreed, shifting on the bench to lay against his body.

"I notice it even more because I've been thinking about it a lot," she breathed heavily, avoiding his eyes. "I keep drinking tea and water and juice so that I always have something in my hands." Amelia sipped her tea.

"Do I still smell like whiskey?"

"No, you smell like soap, now." He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. "Thank you for being out here with me. Taking the time to talk."

"I feel like we've forgotten how to be a couple with this whole pandemic. It's all about the kids; now, we need to make time for us." She sighed contently and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Everything was perfect right before he was born. We had our routine; having dinner, taking a bath or shower, talking about everything before I fell asleep. And you'd massage my feet every night. I miss that," she played, gazing up at him. "I feel like I don't know you anymore. I only know you as a parent." Link rubbed his hand up and down her arm gently, comforting her and attempting to ease her mind.

"Honestly? I only know myself as a parent now." He chuckled almost nervously, placing his mug behind him. "I'll do better to make time for us. Whenever I'm walking Scout around to get him to sleep, I'll find you. We can just talk." Amelia smiled up at him and set her mug beside his.

"We can start now," she whispered, shifting from under his arm. She placed a leg on the other side of him, straddling his lap on the bench. Her hands settled on the sides of his face. "No more secrets," she kissed him. "No more running." Another kiss. "No more hiding." He opened his eyes and took a look into hers, a more vulnerable expression staring back at him.

"I promise," Link responded. He placed his hands on her hips, pulling her closer to him. "No secrets," he affirmed. "From now on, no more hiding."

"It ends with us."

#amelia shepherd #amelink #amelia x link #atticus lincoln #amelink fanfic #amelink fanfiction #grey's anatomy #greys abc #greys fanfic #my fics

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misterewrites · 3 years

Text

Intro to Caitlyn 102 (Mirror’s Edge)

Hey everyone! E here with another chapter. been a busy week so this is a little late but with any luck I'll have the next underground chapter out this week or maybe another chapter for this story. dunno I'm just having fun in general. I hope you are all staying safe, wash your hands, wear your mask, get the vaccine if you can, keep each other safe! Feel free to tell your friends about this, reblog it or leave comments I'd greatly appreciate it. Trying promote myself is weird haha Stay safe and have a great week!

If you’d like an easier place to read the story, feel free to follow the link below

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/76796408

Summary: Caitlyn has her target thanks to one Finnrick Drift and now it's time to break in. After she takes care a few things at home.

-----

Caitlyn sighed as she was unable to keep her eyes off the slivered hue butterfly hair ornament in her palm, the multi-colored glass shards wings stretched wide like it was ready to take flight.

It was beautiful, it was the perfect and it was expensive.

The sliver was real, none of that cheap painted copper or tin or whatever hairclips were normally made of. The different shards of glass had been painstakingly put into place, each fitting together perfectly like a completed puzzle which must’ve taken months to do by hand. And true to his word, she could feel the energy of this item, the magical thrum of its power. It no longer felt cold and distant but warm, light and carried a familiarity with it. It was strange to say but it was almost like the ornament was breathing in time with her. Like it was a part of her.

Of course it was, it’s freaking magic! Frankly magic could do whatever the hell it wanted apparently. The real question was what hidden power laid within.

Somehow in the back of her mind she knew how this thing was supposed to work: it granted her some kind of temporary movement. What that meant she hadn’t the slightest clue. She also knew it would only last an hour and would ‘refresh’ at every dawn. Because that’s a thing. And she knew the spoken word needed to activate it. Which of course meant the word was angel.

Caitlyn frowned, unsure what kind of joke this was. Finnrick had specifically called her angel twice: once when they first met and when asked what exactly the hairclip did. Clearly it was some inside joke he was in on. She just wished she was too.

“Hey Cat, you okay? You keep looking at the wall.”

Caitlyn shook herself out of her stupor and found herself staring at wide brown curious eyes that belonged her baby brother Lou.

Louis or Lou as he preferred to be called, was 7 years old (soon to be 8 next month). He had messy black hair with a cute button nose. He wore clothing typical of a child his age: A red shirt with a hero splashed across its front and baggy shorts. His sneakers were worn and frayed which reminded Caitlyn she really needed to get him a new pair. Between his chubby cheeks and the gap in his smile he was the cutest kid in the world. True he was a bit pudgy due to his lack of height though if he was anything like their father, he would grow to tower over her.

Caitlyn sighed sadly: two years and still no word of her parents. One day they just up and vanished. She used to think they had died through some cruel act of fate or misfortune. In her weaker moments, she briefly wondered if they just left Lou and her behind to start a new life.

But now, with the realization there was a whole magical world on top of her own, she couldn’t fathom what could’ve happened to them. Her thoughts were endlessly filled with possibility and none of them good. None of them made the pain hurt less.

She pinched herself as hard as she could. The sharp pain cut through her wandering mind and focused her back on the task at hand.

“I’m fine” She gave a sly smile “But have you finished your sandwich? A nice man bought it for you and I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Lou bounced up and down excitedly, pudgy hands tucked into a fist “Yes, yes I did! It was yummy!”

“Awesome!”

“Who was the nice man?” Lou asked quizzically, tilting his head to one side.

“Umm….” Caitlyn was torn: One hand she wasn’t quite sure where her and Finnrick landed on the whole trustworthy scale. On the other hand she couldn’t just say a random name. Lou had an uncanny ability to know when she was lying. Bordering on supernatural sometimes.

She glanced carefully towards her baby brother, searching for any sign of magic or mysticism in his chubby cheeks.

He scrunched his eyes wide and inched closer to her. She blinked, stumbling backwards at his sudden movement.

“I win!” He cheered with a bright smile “You blinked first!”

It took a moment for Caitlyn to process what was going on.

She laughed softly “Yeah kiddo. You win.”

“So what’s the nice man’s name? It’s not Jonas, is it? He was a creep.”

“Yeah he was.” Caitlyn awkwardly agreed. Her stomach churned unhappily at the thought of her ex. “No, his name is Finn.”

“Finn” Lou paused thoughtfully, eyes narrowed in concentration “Fiiiiinn. Finn! I like it! Fiiiiiiiinn. Can you thank him for me next time you two go out?”

Caitlyn rose a hand up no protest “Whoa, whoa, whoa slow down kiddo. We’re not dating.”

“But why not? You said he was nice.”

“I…” she glanced about the apartment wearily: Peeling paint, barely held together furniture and rent past due. So much work and effort for this ramshackle home.

“I don’t have time kiddo. I got to keep working if we wanna keep this place.”

Lou frowned, his face confused as if he couldn’t understand the word work “But you’re always working Cat. When are you supposed to have fun?”

Caitlyn ruffled his already messy hair lovingly “I’ll worry about that and you worry about having fun...and keeping up your grades.”

Lou’s ears perked up “What? Sorry, I think I hear Hedge calling me.” and without further warning, he bolted into his room, picking up his beloved turtle plush Hedge and dove under the covers.

Caitlyn couldn’t help but grin at his brother’s antics.

Then reality set in again.

She rather not deal with this newly found, barely understood magical world but regular folks weren’t paying the bills like they used to. Her fence was giving her less and charging more. Some bulltshit about paying off crooked cops or whatever. Sounded like a half ass excuse to her but they both knew she didn’t have much options.

Real gold. Any loose change from magical folks could easily lighten her burden and the promise of more sat in some entitled prick’s safe.

She couldn’t resist even if she had tried and she hadn’t tried to stop herself in years.

-----

Caitlyn waited till midnight to make her move. It was easier to blend in with darker shades and regardless of who she was robbing, she wasn’t in the business to make enemies. Especially enemies with unknown powers.

Lou was tucked into bed, nice and cozy with Hedge locked in his arms. Mrs. Palmer, a kindly older woman next door, agreed to watch him. They shared a silent knowing look with one another.

Her apartment was on the less than well kept side of town and everyone had their hands in some sort of shady business here. They tried their best to keep their noses clean but sometimes there were dips into less savory methods of getting cash.

Caitlyn was prepped for the mission ahead: A black blouse with black leggings. Thick black hiking boots for gripping walls and a leather black jacket to keep the cold and sharp pointy objects away from her skin.

She took a sad glance at the jacket, remembering all the times her father joked about handing it down to her when she beat him at arm wrestling. She could still hear dad’s hearty laughter echoing down the hall.

Caitlyn’s eyes hardened as she forced herself to look away “They left. No point in letting good gear go to waste.”

She took a deep calming breath as she ripped the tape off the butterfly knife she hid underneath her bed. She hated unnecessary violence but sometimes it took more than a good right hook to get someone off your ass. Better to have it and not need it than wind up with a bruise of regret.

She slipped the knife into her jacket pocket, slung her bag over her shoulder, nodded thankfully towards Mrs. Palmer and made her way out the door.

------

Caitlyn decided to take the long way: True it was halfway across town and took an hour of traveling but she always enjoyed the quiet that came with waiting. It calmed her, allowed her time to double and triple check her plans with the added benefit of shaking out any loose thoughts rattling in her head with each bump of the bus.

She stared at the beautiful ornate butterfly clip currently holding her ponytail up in the window. Caitlyn wasn’t sure what exactly Finnrick had given her but she didn’t want to use it at the apartment in case it didn’t do what it was supposed to. After all, suddenly having the knowledge in her head on how to work the hairclip was a bit unsettling. Okay really unsettling. Better to use it far away from Lou in case it exploded or something else nasty.

She got off the bus at last and hurried her way over to Andor’s, careful to cover her face whenever she spotted the odd store or traffic camera. She didn’t know who actually controlled them and she didn’t want to find out the hard way.

Andor’s Antique Shoppe (really cute elf boy) was the tallest building on the street: three floors that towered over the single story shops nearby. The street itself was nearly pitch black with a street lamp on either end of the block being the only source of light. Not a soul in sight.

Now was a good time as any to try out the hairclip. Caitlyn closed her eyes, exhaling slowly as she focused on the magical item. Goosebumps ran down her spine while the quiet, powerful thrum hummed softly in her ears. The word escaped her lips like it was second nature.

“Angel”

She nearly stumbled as a warm sensation filled her entire being. It covered her like a second skin and suddenly she was aware of the hairclip intimately: It’s weight, where it sat upon her head. She could feel the wings of the butterfly unfold, outstretched and ready to take flight. She heard the shimmering of magic forming into existence and she let out a surprised gasp when her feet lifted off the ground.

Caitlyn glanced in the nearby shop window, tears welling in her eyes:Beautiful translucent butterfly wings extended out from behind her. The outline of the wings were a deep rich purple with the multicolored glass stained shards gorgeously laid across its surface, each as elegant and refined as any art piece she’d ever seen. Each flutter and beat held her aloft, defying gravity’s hold on her. In the shadows of the night, the soft glow of the wings made her look like...

“An angel.” she whispered gently “I look like an angel.”

Caitlyn wiped the tears away. Technically she was a butterfly but this wasn’t the time for sentiment. She had a job to do and the longer she floated out here the more likely she’d get caught.

“Up” she murmured and the wings obliged: she rose silently skyward, each beating of the wings taking her higher and higher. The chill of the wind felt nice across her cheeks and she couldn’t help but relax in its presence.

Her original plan was to simply scale the side of the building and pick the window to gain entry but with her new found vertical movement, it was easier to just go up and over. She made sure she ascended from the end of the street and flew over to the third floor.

Caitlyn tilted her head quizzically as she found herself staring at a haphazardly open window.

“It can’t be this simple.” she narrowed her eyes suspiciously “It has to be a trap.”

-----

Caitlyn stood dumbfounded in the unguarded office of Andor.

She looked to her left then to her right, waiting for some sort of ambush to be sprung.

None came.

“Okay it is this simple.” Caitlyn whispered to herself, opting to just take this stroke of good fortune and run with it. She quietly willed the wings away and with a glitter of magic they vanished into thin air.

She crept over to the black safe tucked lazily in the corner, a stack of important looking documents just thrown on top without a care in the world. She quickly pocketed them and turned her attention to the roadblock in her way. True to Finnrick’s information, the safe itself was fairly simple and wouldn’t take much to break into. Either Andor was extremely confident in his security or really didn’t take being a crook seriously.

Not that it mattered to Caitlyn. It wasn’t her fault Andor hadn’t invested in a good safe.

She pressed her ear against the cool surface of the metal, trying to ignore the icy chill on her cheek as she strained to listen for the nearly inaudible click of the tumblers falling into place. It had taken two tries too many but she allowed herself a smug grin as the safe’s door swung open with a creak.

Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed at the sight of a funny symbol painted onto the back of the door. It gleamed with a strange unnatural light before disappearing all together. Before she could began to guess what bad news that meant, the shouts and thundering footsteps echoed from below answered her question.

“Shit.” She whispered as she began frantically grabbing everything she could: Folders, stacks of papers and clanging metal in heavy pouches. It all went into her bag with as much speed as she could muster.

The footsteps grew louder with a frantic pace. They were already on the second floor if she hazard a guess. Caitlyn made for the window and without a second thought, flung herself outside with all her might.

“Angel!” She hurried muttered but the wings were forming too slowly. She already crossed past the next floor down when they barely began to outstretch from her back. Caitlyn was no physics major but even she knew there was no way she’d be able to slow down in time to avoid breaking her neck. She shielded her face with her arms and tried not to flinch as she waited for the pain to set in.

It didn’t come.

Instead she felt herself slow to a stop midair and just stayed here. Caitlyn opened her eyes to find herself bobbing up and down inches away from the pavement. There were a pair of legs as well: Black slacks and well polished loafers with the bottom half of a black tattered trench coat.

“Falling for me angel? I didn’t expect it to be literal.”

She glanced up to found herself staring at the one and only Finnrick Drift before her, a cheeky smile on his lips and his hand held out.

Finnrick waved his fingers over her and she landed onto the sidewalk with a soft thud.

He offered her his hand but she preferred to scamper to her feet in the most ungraceful way possible. Her cheeks burned with a pinkish hue at the sight of the P.I.

“Thanks.” She couldn’t keep the embarrassment out of her voice “I….thanks.”

Finnrick nodded “Anytime.”

“WHY IS THE DOOR LOCKED?!” A voice roared from overhead.

“CUZ IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE YOU IDIOT!”

Realization knocked Caitlyn out of whatever was going on here but as she turned to make a break for it, Finnrick rose his hand to stop her.

She glanced at him, lost and confused.

“The favor. I’m calling it in.”

“What?! Here?! NOW!? You got to be kidding!”

“I kid about a lot of things.” Finnrick admitted “but not this.”

“We’re standing outside the place I just robbed! This isn’t the time!”

“Yes it is.”

Caitlyn took a step back and cast a suspicious look at the private investigator “You were using me, weren’t you? You didn’t want to get your hands dirty so you let me borrow the wings so I can steal the thing for you!”

Finnrick shook his head.

“Don’t turn this around on me!” Caitlyn snarled

Finnrick answered simply “You were clearly better at locks and sneaking around than I am. I was actually having trouble figuring how to pull this off. Every option ended with a fight with Andor. That’s why I’m out here. Why I busted every cameras on the street and managed to keep the window open. To make sure you were okay.”

“Where even were you?!” Caitlyn tried in vain to recall seeing Finnrick on the street “it doesn’t matter! You want me to trust you?! Just like that?”

Finnrick sighed tiredly “Please angel I trust you.”

Caitlyn’s eyes went cold “That is your mistake, not mine.”

Finnrick stared back at her, his dark brown eyes warm and gentle “Trusting you is my choice. Breaking it lays entirely with you.”

Caitlyn felt the rage and distrust drain out of her and replaced with a tense exhaustion.

Angel. He had let her borrow the wings and while there was no way he’d let her keep them he did give it to her for a favor. A simple favor he promised.

She sighed in defeat “What’s the favor?”

“I need a paper from the stack.”

“And if I give it to you, will you let me go?” She asked, hating how weak and vulnerable she sounded.

“No” Finnrick spoke without hesitation.

Caitlyn's shoulders sagged with disappointment.

“I will protect you.”

Caitlyn couldn’t help but stare at Finnrick: His face was scrunched up in a rather cute sense of determination and his body was relaxed. It was clear he was trying to be as nonthreatening as possible and despite her recent outburst, he seemed more concern with her than himself.

When was the last time someone offered to protect her? Granted she didn’t need any but even Caitlyn had to admit it was nice to hear.

They stood there for a moment, the angry shouts and cursing of Andor and his thugs breaking the silence of the night.

“Which paper is it?”

“It’ll be a single sheet with some fancy silvery writing on it.”

It took her no time to find it: It was thicker than all the others, written on some ancient paper that was aged yellow with time but was otherwise intact. The shining silvery writing was indeed fancy but nearly impossible to make out. She could actually feel her eyes water just looking at it and she wasted no time shoving it into Finn’s hand.

“There!” Caitlyn cast a nervous glance towards the third floor window “I kept my end. Now keep yours. Please.”

Finnrick said nothing. He instead tucked the loose paper inside his coat and offered a hand to her.

Confused but running out of options, she gingerly took his hand in hers. She flushed at how warm he was. Caitlyn let out a yelp as Finnrick pulled her in. She tried to keep her cheeks from turning a lovely shade of red when Finnrick held her close.

Finnrick began chanting, his hands drawing unseen symbols in the air. Caitlyn could feel the same warm sensation from earlier wash over her as Finnrick’s spell took effect.

-----

“FIND MY STUFF NOW!” Andor screamed with bloody rage. He was typical of an elf: Impossible well kept blonde hair that flowed to his back, piercing forest green eyes. He was tall and lean with the tackiest suit anyone had seen. Reds and pinks in some sort plaid pattern. He called it looking good. His goons called it a headache. His pointed ears twitch unhappily as he struggled to listen for any sort of sound nearby but found nothing beyond the usual quiet hum of the city.

Andor groaned unhappily as he made his way to the window. His eyes scanned the street with a clarity not even the most technologically advance camera could match. His elf eyes took in every detail through the shadows: every imperfect scratch on the brick buildings, the asphalt embedded with the grooves of tires, cracked sidewalks that spread out like bolts of lightning.

Nothing. Not a single soul was in sight. The silhouetted street was bare and empty.

“FUCK!” Andor screamed into the silence “FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! FIND THEM NOW! CHECK THE FRONT DOOR CAMERA!”

“We can’t boss, it was fried yesterday, remember?”

Andor shut the window with a violent thud.

-----

Caitlyn let out the tense sigh she hadn’t realized she had been holding in.

She instinctively looked towards Finnrick only to find empty air.

“We’ll have to be invisible a little longer. They’ll be searching the shop before they think to start fanning outside. Andor will be making the process longer. Let’s get to the end of the street and I’ll drop it then.”

Caitlyn nodded for a moment before realizing he couldn’t see her

He guided her arm into his and the pair briskly walked down the street. It felt weird to walk invisible, arm in arm, while a childish elf baby raged behind them.

When they reached the end of the street, Finnrick dropped the spell. The two reappeared as quickly as they’d vanished. Caitlyn pulled away from the detective, her body shivering from the sudden lack of warmth.

“Thank you.” Caitlyn murmured softly.

Finnrick tipped his fedora “Any time sweetie.”

“What now?”

Finnrick scratched his chin thoughtfully “It is late and staying here would be a terrible idea. I suspect we both have places to be.”

Finnrick reached into his pocket and held out a piece of paper for Caitlyn to take. She stared at it, unsure what he was offering.

“It’s my fence.” He clarified with a smile “I take it you don’t know a magical one. He’s very trustworthy and he’ll give you a fair price.”

“Thanks” she took the slip of paper “I….thank you.”

“Any time. Good night angel.”

“Wait!” She reached for him but drew back when he turned to face her “Your hairclip? The one you let me borrow?”

Finnrick’s eyes twinkled with amusement “You didn’t hear me, did you? I told you that’s yours.”

Caitlyn could hear her heart thundering in her ears, cheeks ablaze “You sure? It seems like it costed a pretty penny.”

“Pretty amount of gold.” Finnrick corrected with a wink “And I’m pretty sure. I made it for you.”

“Why?” The question slipped out of her mouth “Why me? You barely know me.”

“Not true.” Finnrick nervously bit his lip “You barely know me. I’ve been waiting for you forever now. About five yearsin fact.”

“Me?” Her blush worsened “I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

Finnrick took her hand in his once more and softly kissed it. Caitlyn could feel a flutter of butterflies fill her stomach.

He hesitated to break his hold on her but he did so respectfully. Caitlyn could see his cheeks tinged with a pinkish hue as he began walking away.

Caitlyn stood there and watched the detective vanish into the night.

-----

Okay, so she didn’t just stand there dumbfounded as Finnrick walked away. It was probably a terrible idea and definitely not normal Caitlyn behavior but she followed him.

It wasn’t too hard given her newfound verticality. She just waited a few minutes, noted the direction he was heading and flew over the rooftops. Finnrick didn’t seem to be aware he was being followed. He walked the darken streets of Newton Haven, gesturing to the odd person or mythical being cloak in the darkness. His pace was casual and unsuspecting.

Her concerns about running out of time were unfounded as about 30 minutes later, Finnrick ducked into a fairly decent apartment complex. It was better kept than hers but only by a fraction.

A dark apartment on the third floor was suddenly flooded with light as Finnrick Drift made his way inside. He hung his coat and fedora at a coat rack that stood by the door. The apartment was itself humble: he had a battered desk placed by the window, his tiny kitchen was on one side and the door to his bedroom on the other. There was a large file cabinet next to a battered, ancient fridge. Not the place of a well paid private investigator.

Finnrick sighed tiredly as he rolled up his sleeves. The way his body hunched over with the slow debilitate movements he made, it was obvious he must’ve been exhausted. But whatever he was up to must’ve been important because he began drawing on his lovely wooden floor.

Caitlyn couldn’t really guess what the detective was doing beyond the shape he was making: There was a large outer circle and a much smaller one within. An array of symbols were drawn between the two circles such as stars, a crescent moon, squiggles shaped like trees with a language she didn’t understand.

It didn’t take Finnrick long to finish. He stood at full height, wiping the sweat from his brow as he reached into his pocket and pulled a baggie. Carefully, he opened the bag and pulled out a sliver thread that seemed to shine even at this distance. He placed it within the smaller circle and outstretched a hand like he was grasping at something. His eyes, normally a warm dark brown, glowed with blue arcane power. Magical symbols formed before him and the building groaned and creaked like the mere presence of magic commanded it to speak. He lit a match, his lips moving more and more wildly yet no sound could be heard from within. Finnrick closed his hand into a fist and the symbols sunk into the circle. He flung the match onto the sliver thread and the entire glyph blazed with fire for moment. There was a flash of a brilliant light and the circle had vanished only to be replaced by some strange figure.

She was much taller than Finn, so tall in fact the top of her head nearly scraped the bottom of the next floor up. Her hair was wispy, thin threads of sliver that reached to the bottom of her feet. Her skin was pale like moonlight and two dark sunken pits formed her eyes. Her frame was lanky and unnatural like someone had pulled and stretch her into her current form. Her clothes were torn and ragged.

The figure tiled her head curiously at Finnrick who dug into his pocket and pulled out the yellowed paper Caitlyn had given him. The figure was dumbstruck as Finnrick handed it to her with a warm smile. He offered a match to the creature but she shook her head. She gingerly held the paper in her hand, staring at it like was about to vanish into thin air.

Then she ripped it. She tore at it with a fierce, terrifying frenzy. She ripped and ripped and ripped until impossibly small bits of paper rained across the apartment. Caitlyn leaned closer as previously unseen shackles formed upon the figure’s wrist and cracked wide open. They slipped off and vanished into the air.

The figure let out a manic laugh as she shrunk, her limbs realigning themselves until she looked like a proper human sized person only a head taller than Finnrick. Her thin wispy hair fattened to thick, full braids of metallic silver. Her skin remained pale but her dark sunken eyes turned a coal black, full of life and joy. Even her clothes had transformed into a splendid elegant dress that sparkled like stars.

She cried, clear streams of water running down her face as she held Finnrick’s hands tightly. She wailed and shook, unable to keep her emotions in any longer. Finnrick let her, giving only a satisfied grin in response. She handed him a handful of gold, 3 maybe 4 pieces and began patting her dress as if looking for more. Finnrick stopped her, pocketing the gold and shaking his head no. The creature was not satisfied by this and began to gesture wildly about. Finnrick remained steadfast. He gestured to himself, lips speaking but Caitlyn couldn’t read whathe was mouthing this far away. The figure said nothing as a small child matching her skin tone appeared from out of nowhere. The child gestured to his wrist excitedly though nothing was there. The figure scooped the child in her arm and gently kissed his forehead. She glanced to Finnrick and was gone. A gentle warm breeze sailed past Caitlyn’s hidden spot, dispelling the frigid 2 a.m. air.

Finnrick chuckled to himself and despite on the verge of collapsing, made his way to the kitchen. He remained there for a few minutes and reemerged with a steaming cup of those instant noodles found at the store. He made his way over to the window and lifted it open. He placed the foam cup on the fire escape and hastily wrote a note which he folded carefully next to the food.

And with his job seemingly done, he made turned off the lights with a flourish of his hand and made his way to his bedroom. He closed the door and did not reappear.

Caitlyn flew over with the few minutes she had left in her wings. She picked up the cup of ramen, contently sighing with its warmth. She grabbed the note and read it aloud, curious what Finnrick wrote.

Caitlyn felt a chill of run down her spine as she read ��Hey! Noticed you watching me and given you didn’t try to attack me, I assumed you had your reasons. If you’re trying to track me for your boss, here’s your warning! I will destroy everything they hold dear. You possibly included. If you just were a person or fae that was just curious, have a warm meal on me! It’s cold out so bundle up. Have a good one and don’t touch the window. I am a powerful warder.” F- :)

Caitlyn couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her lips as she saw the cute smiley Finnrick had ended the note with.

She held the cup close as she made her way to street level. Finnrick told her she’d understand in time. She wished she understood now but she shocked to find herself more than willing to find out.

#Mirror's Edge #My story #Original Work #original story

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