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#we are running out of tissues
coolcoelacanth · 1 month
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so like...are things going to get better or do we all just have to live in this capitalistic hellscape for the rest of our lives?
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orionangeline · 2 months
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lovelovex · 11 months
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P, what in the actual fuck is going on….
the hearing is on july 3, S is driving me crazy w his ‘precautions’, D keeps crying over wild dreams by burna boy & khalid, my vocal coach won’t stop yelling at me on the phone, the rehearsals are basically a group therapy session, the opening night is probably delayed by a few days, my dms are mostly !!!!!! & ??????, my mom keeps reminding me to check my blood pressure two times a day, rmbr when we had some peace some time ago? yeah i rly miss those four days
somewhere btwn all of that i have to graduate but my thesis is the Least of my problems rn
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scientia-rex · 9 days
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A lot of younger people have no idea what aging actually looks and feels like, and the reasons behind it. That ignorance is so dangerous. If you don’t want to “be old,” you aren’t talking about a number of years. I have patients in their late 80s who could still handily beat me in a race—one couple still runs marathons together, in their late 80s—and I lost someone who was in her early 60s to COPD last year. What you want is not youth, it is health.
If you want to still be able to enjoy doing things in your 60s and 70s and 80s and even 90s, what you want to do, right now, is quit smoking, get some activity on a regular basis (a couple of walks a week is WAY better for you than nothing; increasing from 1 hour a day of cardio to 1.5 will buy you very little), and eat some plants. That’s it. No magic to it. No secret weird tricks. Don’t poison yourself, move around so your body doesn’t forget how, and eat plants.
If you have trouble moving around now because of mobility limitations, bad news: you still need to move around, not because it’s immoral not to, but because that’s still the best advice we have. I highly recommend looking up the Sit and Be Fit series; it is freely available and has exercises that can be done in a chair, which are suitable for people with limited mobility or poor balance. POTS sufferers, I’m looking at you.
If you have trouble eating plants because of dietary issues (they cause gas, etc.) or just because they’re bitter (super taster with texture issues here!), bad news. You still want to find a way to get some plants into your body on a regular basis. I know. It sucks. The only way I can do it is restaurants—they can make salads taste like food. I can also tolerate some bagged salads. On bad weeks, the OCD with contamination focus gets so bad I just can’t. However, canned beans always seem “safe,” and they taste a bit like candy, so they’re a good fallback.
If you smoke and you have tried quitting a million times and you’re just not ready to, bad news. You still need to quit. Your body needs you to try and keep trying. Your brain needs it, too. Damaging small blood vessels racks up cumulative damage over time that your body can start trying to reverse as soon as you quit. I know it’s insanely, absurdly addictive. You still need to.
You cannot rules lawyer your way past your body’s basic needs. It needs food, sleep, activity, and the absence of poison. Those are both small things and big asks. You cannot sustain a routine based on punishment, so don’t punish your body. Find ways to include these things that are enjoyable and rewarding instead. Experiment. There is no reason not to experiment—you don’t have to know instantly what’s going to work for you and what won’t, you just need to be willing to try things and make changes when things aren’t working for you.
You will still age. Your body will stop making collagen and elastin. Tissues you can see and tissues you can’t see will both sag. Cushioning tissues under your skin will get thinner. You’ll bruise more easily. Skin will tear more easily. Accumulated sun damage will start to show more and more. Joints will begin to show arthritis. Tendons and ligaments will get weaker and get injured more easily, as will muscles. Bones will lose mass and get easier to break. You’ll get tired more easily.
But you know what makes the difference between being dead, or as good as, in your 60s vs your 90s? Activity, plants, and quitting smoking. And don’t do meth. Saw a 58-year-old guy this week who is going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t quit whatever stimulant he’s on. I pretended to believe it was just the cigarettes, and maybe it is, but meth and cocaine will kill you quicker. Stop poisoning yourself.
Baby steps; take it one step at a time; you don’t need to have everything figured out right now. But you do need to be working on figuring things out.
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I'll Do Anything You Tell Me To - LN
Dark fic 18+ - if you don't like this or the warnings/themes make you uncomfortable. I can't stress this enough, DO NOT READ THIS
Summary: Lando's girlfriend features on his stream, but everyone can see there's something off about it. Not that Lando cares what other people say. Y/n will do anything he tells her to do.
Themes/warning: Manipulation, slightly forceful pushing out of comfort zones, semi-public sex(does live stream count if the watchers don't really know), cockwarming (my fave;)), controlling behaviour, HANDS HANDS HANDS (big theme, love Lando's hands and letting my imagination run wild with uses for them), mean!Lando
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"Y/n, baby!" Lando calls making her curse pulling on a t-shirt as the minimum of clothing.
"What-"
"Ah, no. Jesus, y/n. The cameras on." Lando states shooting forward with his hand pushing on her stomach to make sure she's not at risk of being caught on frame.
"S-Sorry." Y/n mumbles earning a sigh. "Is the mic on?"
"No." Lando frowns making her nod as his hand slide down teasing between her legs making her refrain from allowing herself to shiver under his touch. "Did you just come out the shower?"
"Yeah." Y/n nods then biting her lip a little while Lando hums lightly. "Lando, you live."
"Join me?"
"The camera." Y/n murmurs making him hum but his eyes take a darker glint.
"I'll just turn it off for game play. I'm on with the boys at the moment." Lando shrugs earning a small nod.
There's few things that Lando loves more than how blindly obedient y/n is. Even if she looks uncomfortable, she'll do what Lando wants to keep him happy. He could hope for a girlfriend better than her.
"Wait here a second."
Y/n nods watching Lando slide back into frame, only using one hand before he reaches up to turn the camera. As if making sure that there is no chance at the camera capturing what he's about to do.
"Come here." Lando instructs making her move to sit on his lap, him hooking her legs over his own and managing to get his headphones back on. "You gotta be quiet baby. Mic is gonna be on."
Y/n nods shuddering feeling his breath hit her neck as she feels his fingers slide into her with a shameless ease that makes her shiver again.
"I want you to get yourself off, baby." Lando states giving her g-spot a gentle nudge which makes her swallow thickly. Y/n bites her lip, chewing on it as he turns the mic on.
Y/n is aware that Lando likes to play these games, it's a big part of their relationship. She won't be allowed to leave or get up from his lap until she's done as she's told.
Best method is to make it as quick as possible. She begins rocking herself back and forth on his fingers, feeling her pulse begin to beat around her body. Lando hasn't even started the next game because everyone is bickering, including him. Though heat is just completely coursing through her from his touch.
Y/n is really locking her jaw trying to keep herself quiet. Her body feeling so on the edge.
"That's it." Lando whispers knowing that his mic won't pick it up.
Y/n keeps going refraining herself from panting like she wants, keeps going till she feels herself soak Lando's already wet hand, almost dropping down.
"Alright, boys when are we actually getting on with this?" Lando asks kicking off another argument and as the others blame each other for the delay, Lando flicks off his mic. "Climb on me baby. I wanna feel you."
"The chat knows though." Y/n mumbles nervously having read the chat as she had slumped back against him. "Lando-"
"I don't remember asking baby." Lando cuts in. "Are you saying no?"
"But-"
"That's a no then. Alright, you can clean up-"
"No. I don't want to go." Y/n frowns hating that he's managed to corner her into insisting she do as he wants.
Y/n moves managing to shift and pull his dick out before he pulls her against himself maybe a little faster than she would've done herself but the game is starting.
He manages to grab some tissues to quickly cleaning his hand as he turns on his mic again. Y/n doesn't hate being here with Lando while he plays, but she hates the fact it does actually have such an effect on her.
Her eyes are trained on his hands, his hand that was actually in her only a few minutes ago still has visible residue on his skin. If Lando couldn't already tell, the pulse she can feel beating and squeezing around Lando's dick was giving her away just how turned on she is.
The pressure of him filling her as she looks at his hands, she's in a daze of edging closer to another orgasm without even meaning to and while Lando is trying to focus on the game. There's only so much he can block out. Y/n getting off using him again.
He can't even stop himself from getting to some quiet spot in the game and quickly muting the mic again, his hand catching her throat as she tips forward spasming and clenching around him as a moan escapes her.
"Enjoying yourself?" Lando questions then cursing as he finds himself shot. Deciding to make the most of it, he decides to go for another orgasm from her seeing just what she'll take.
"Lando!" Y/n yells out feeling him pinch at her clit. She really wasn't finished with her orgasm but the oversensitivity makes her almost closer her legs on his hand but his free hand keeps at least one of her legs from closing the space.
"What? You were just fine getting yourself off using me. I'm just helping you do it again." Lando states making her whine. "You're going to let me help?"
"Mmm...yes." Y/n murmurs, struggling to make her mouth form proper words.
Lando can hear voices in his ears but they're thankfully just assuming he's disappeared for some reason or another since he's dead anyway.
The third orgasm hits her in a rush of heat, burning through her whole body. she's almost certain she'd fall on the floor if it wasn't for Lando keeping himself very much buried deep inside of her. If she didn't feel so completely focused on herself, she might wonder how the hell she hasn't triggered him into an orgasm.
"Fucking hell, y/n." Lando chuckles then smirking as an idea hits him. "Get up baby. We both need to clean up a little."
Y/n manages to get up with wobbly legs, him holding his hand out to support her weight for a moment as he unmutes himself.
"Hey, boys. I'm just helping y/n with something. I'll be a few more minutes." Lando states into the mic while y/n latches onto his hand tightly feeling herself struggle with her balance.
Lando definitely rushes a clean up for them both and before y/n knows it, he's setting up to camera to look at the two of them again.
By the time Lando pulls y/n down to straddle him, sliding down on his length he decides he's not going to be able to control himself anymore.
"Fuck." Lando mutters lifting her and controlling a pretty brutal pace, which give she's only just got out her daze of 3 orgasms deep. It takes almost just the hit of his breath on her neck as he practically slams her down on himself before groaning the feeling of his orgasms sending her tumbling into her own.
Neither have ever been quiet or very vanilla in their sex lives with each other. But 4 orgasms within the span of less than an hour has completely ruined her and she really didn't even want to do it with the mic and camera so close.
"Don't you dare." Lando grumbles keeping her locked down in place when she makes an admittedly weak attempt at getting off of him.
"I don't want to be on camera like this." Y/n murmurs very hyper aware that she's very much naked from the waist down.
"You'll be fine, it's not in frame." Lando mutters while moving them forward towards the desk. He pulls his headphones on and turns on the mic. "Alright chat you can shut up now. I'm back. Y/n's isn't feeling well so she's here too."
He clicks to turn the camera.
Y/n refrains from sighing and instead just nuzzles her face into his neck, she's pretty much fucked out and isn't overly happy about being stuck there with him still inside her.
-
Online fans are definitely suspecting something with Lando and y/n. Comments and clips from the stream saying body language and the way Lando wouldn't speak to y/n without muting his mic or covering his mouth so they couldn't even read his lips.
Y/n also didn't look very impressed.
Lando has chosen not to address it. But he's pushed y/n into addressing it online.
"Is that ok?" Y/n mumbles handing her phone to Lando as they sit in the car on the way to the paddock.
Lando takes her phone with a small frown read over the little paragraph she's posting on her story.
"Yeah, that's good." Lando nods then smiling and kissing her cheek. "Thank you for doing this."
Not exactly like he gave her much of a choice, but if it makes him happy then she'll do anything for him. Including tell his fans that the stream was nothing to be concerned about and that there has never been anything that Lando has done which should ever make them concerned for her. Along with telling them that a relationship that so rarely actually gets shown to the public is not shown enough for them to make assumptions and calls on.
"It's just the truth. They're being stupid." Y/n mumbles making the McLaren driver smile, his hand coming up to gently hold her neck pulling her into a heavy kiss.
By the time they get to the paddock, Lando's possessiveness leaves him almost ignoring fans on the way in and while walking through the paddock once they've past the security gate.
Dark fic Taglist: @hiireadstuff @ellienorriss @decafmickey @daemyratwst @flowersonstreets @bethanymccauley @randomnessis-mine-me @sunf1ower16 @rylie-lothbrok @cixrosie @8justme @jehun @scopeiguess @bborra @poppyflower-22 @noneofyourfbusinessworld @igotnorrrizz @unknownmystery22 @nirrahbrii @sbella13 @d3kstar @neilakk @kawaiisadoglu @a-moment-captured @aeri101 @st4rshine @meadhbhcavanagh @molten-m122 @charizznorizz @simpingcorner @bubbleswrld @gisellesprettylies @urfavsgf @landogirly27
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ioniiaa · 2 months
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My Darling, My Honey
Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 11)
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Have a nice big chapter/part for the weekend! :D
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11
Part 11:
Did.. did Charlie just say... Alastor?
You felt someone poke your face, multiple times, all at once, "Hey, Hey, miss bandage face, you good?"
You blink rapidly, being pulled out of your stupor and laugh awkwardly, "Ah haha, uh yeah. Yup, I'm good... Haha, thanks Angel.."
Angel just squints at you, not convinced of your act at all but just sighs and says, "Alright, whatever you say, weirdo.." and then returns back to chatting with Husk.
Vaggie, who was sitting next to you struck up a conversation, "Are you really sure you're okay to be up and around already? You look like you saw a ghost or something."
You briefly glanced at the radio that was sitting on the mantle on the wall before returning your attention to Vaggie, "Yeah, being up was much better than sitting doing nothing, I thought I was going to waste away if I didn't do something."
Vaggie sighs and nods her head, "I know the feeling."
"And.. I swear I thought I heard Charlie mention the name Al-"
"Alastor! You're back! We have a new guest staying at the hotel! Come say hi!" Charlie shot out of her seat as soon as she saw Alastor's shadows start to manifest, signaling his return.
You felt your blood run cold as your suspicions were confirmed. Yes, she just said Alastor. How common could that name be down here? This is just a coincidence, surely- Of all names!
"My, my dear Charlie, you seem quite excited! I haven't seen you bouncing off the walls like this in ages!" Alastor chuckles as he allows Charlie to practically drag him over by the wrist to the group.
He sounds like a radio host...
Your breath starts to quicken as Charlie guides him over to you, his aura feels so oppressive, unlike any Overlord you had ever met before... But what made your hair really stand on the back of your neck was the static noise that filled the air as he got closer. You felt your eyes shake and your gut sink in your stomach.
What was this feeling?
You gulp and look up, eyes wide, looking like a deer in headlights as you make eye contact with this "Alastor".
"Go on! Introduce yourself!" You felt Charlie nudge you excitedly, in an attempt to nudge you out of your frozen state.
On his face, a large, creepy grin/smile- (if you could even call it that) grew even larger on his face - a feat you didn't even know was possible. You felt like you should be scared but then... It dawned on you.
That feeling in your gut dissipated instantly and it felt like a weight got suddenly lifted off your chest.
This was Alastor. This was your Alastor.
Tears start rolling down your face uncontrollably as your body is racked with sobs.
"Heyyy! Hey! It's okay, (y/n)! I know Al can be a wee bit intimidating sometimes but I promise he's not a bad guy! Well... mostly.. haha..." Charlie trails off with a nervous chuckle as she scrambles around the lobby to find you some tissues to dry your tears.
Upon hearing your name said out loud, a loud record scratch filled the air.
"Haha... ha...Charlie, dearest! My, you'd think the years are catching up to me! Was that some sort of joke? Why, I didn't know you wanted to become a comedian! Did you say.. (y/n)? That must be a mistake. I've only ever known one person by that name and they surely couldn't have ended up in Hell of all places!" Alastor chuckles, the laugh track coming from his staff warping as he hovers over Charlie with an intimidating aura- thinking she was playing some sort of sick joke on him.
Charlie whips around to see Alastor up in her face and then she scrambles back, "Woah! What? Alastor! Gods, no, why would I joke about our new guest? That would go against everything i'm trying to do here!"
Alastor's gaze darts over to you, "You see, I think this '(y/n)' and I need to have a chat..." His eyes narrow as he makes quotation marks with his fingers as he says your name.
He walks towards you and grabs your wrist with force, finger like claws starting to dig into your arm- despite protest from Charlie and Vaggie to let you go- to stop harassing their new guest because you were still quite injured and fragile. Even Angel and Husk got up from their seats at the bar after hearing the commotion in the lounge and started yelling at him to stop hurting you because it was very apparent that you were in pain with how rough he was handling you.
Then, with a snap, he teleports you and himself up to his radio tower- away from all the commotion.
Alastor slams the door shut with a fury that you've never seen before, and locks it to make sure you won't even try to make a feeble attempt at an escape.
He was powerful. Alastor knew he didn't really need to lock the door because with his power, he could vaporize you before you even thought of making a dash for the door. He did it as an intimidation tactic because he knew the fear it instilled in his prey.
Now, walking towards you, he pointed his staff at your chest, and leaned in close to your face. Strange static and symbols fill the air as he and his antlers grow in size, towering over you.
"Now... who are you really? You get one chance to make a feeble excuse before I kill you and broadcast your screams for all of Hell to hear, for making a mockery of my dear (y/n) by taking the name of my beloved and masquerading around Hell- thinking you can show up here like this to try and mess with ME- tHe RaDiO DEMON."
You see dark shadows and tentacle-like masses appear, and you stumble backward until your back hits a wall, never breaking eye contact with him- your lip quivering in fear.
"I.. But- It... is me...hun... I missed you so much..." You whisper with a somber smile that's quickly warped into an ugly crying face. The unrelenting tears keep rolling down your face, and your left hand reaches up towards his even more demonically altered form that towers over you in a desperate attempt to get him to recognize you.
Before you can touch his face, one of his hands snatches your wrist and pulls it closer to himself to examine the sparkle that caught his eye as you started to reach out to him, roughly jostling you and lifting you up in the air by your wrist as a result.
You wince briefly at the pain in your wrist and shoulder joints as he examines your hand when you remember you were wearing your ring. You never took it off all these years.
You could hear his breath hitch just ever so slightly over the static as he gently put you down and let your feet touch the floor again.
Alastor realized that the ring on your left ring finger was the exact one he had gotten for you- the one he put on your ring finger right before he buried you right the night you were brutally assaulted and murdered back when he was alive.
He slowly morphed back into his "normal" form. (Normal for Hell, that is, this was an entirely new look for him from what you remembered when he was alive).
The shock dawning on him that it really was you was apparent as he took a few steps back, still holding your hand. He looked at you in disbelief, the look of pure shock was just like how you had looked at him initially in the lobby.
Then suddenly, he pulled you into a warm embrace, "My dearest... I am so sorry for hurting you. My darling... whatever are you doing here? Someone like you doesn't belong here!"
Now, holding your face in both of his hands, he wiped your tears with the most gentle expression on his face, a stark contrast from the nightmarish demonic one just a moment ago. and you could almost swear you could see the slightest traces of a misty look in his eyes as he held you.
His claw-like fingers slightly dug into your face, but not enough to hurt, as he examined your new appearance, his gaze turning from soft into a hardened expression once again. Almost snarling, he began to ask you again, "Tell me, darling, tell me the name of the gods forsaken angel bastard that cast you down from Heaven. I will find a way to make them pay. I'll make them ALL pay for this... NO ONE will ever harm you again..." The strange symbols and glitchy auras were threatening to come out again.
You sniffled, still trying to calm down your tears, which immediately made him halt in his tracks and turn his attention back to you at this moment.
You looked at the ground, and you knew you couldn't avoid this conversation forever, "Hun... I... Before we met... there was something I never told you-" Before you could finish, you felt your legs start to wobble underneath you- the adrenaline was starting to fade and you were starting to feel some of the pain from your previous injuries come back to you.
"Please, my love, take a seat first." He guided you to a set of a table and two chairs. Ever the gentleman, he pulled your chair out for you and helped made sure you were alright before he sat down across the table from you.
You put your hands on the table, a signal he immediately picked up on as a sign to envelop your hands in his. You looked at him in the eyes with a look of shame that scrunched up your face as you prepared to tell him the truth, "Alastor, hun... I never went to Heaven..."
You swore you heard another record scratch before a quiet hum of static filled the air again. Alastor chuckled, "Oh my dear, never lost your sense of humor, I see!"
A look of even deeper shame washes over your face as you break eye contact with him and stare at his hands that held your's on the table, "It's true. Alastor..." You sigh deeply, feeling an aching pain in your chest, not only from your injuries but also from the mental anguish you were dealing with as you shakily begin to explain everything about your past. Your shitty family and messed-up inlaws. Your narcissistic, unloving, and abusive ex-husband that you killed.
You painstakingly revealed every single minute detail. You told him everything.
-> Part 12
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perfectlyvalid49 · 2 months
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On being Jewish, and traumatized (It’s been 5 months and I want to talk):
Judaism is a joyous religion. So much of our daily practice is to focus us on the things that are good. I know that there’s a joke that all our holidays can be summed up as “they tried to kill us. We survived – let’s eat!”, and you might think that holidays focused on attempts at killing us might be somber, but they’re really not. Most are celebrated in the sense of, “we’re still here, let’s have a party!” When I think about practicing Judaism, the things I think about make me happy.
But I think a lot of non-Jews don’t necessarily see Judaism the same way. I think in part it’s because we do like to kvetch, but I think a lot of it is because from the outside it’s harder to see the joy, and very easy to see the long history of suffering that has been enacted on the Jewish people. From the inside, it’s very much, “we’re still here, let’s party” and from the outside it’s, “how many times have they tried to kill you? Why are you celebrating? They tried to KILL YOU!”
And I want to start with that because a lot of the rest of this is going to be negative. And I don’t want people to read it and wonder why I still want to be Jewish. I want to be Jewish because it makes me happy. My problem isn’t with being Jewish, it’s with how Jews are treated.
What I really wanted to write about is being Jewish and the trauma that’s involved with that right now.
First, I want to talk about Israeli Jews. I can’t say much here because I’m not Israeli, nor do I have any close friends or family that are Israeli. But if I’m going to be talking about the trauma Jews are experiencing right now, I can’t not mention the fact that Israeli Jews (and Israelis that aren’t Jewish as well, but that’s not my focus here) are dealing with massive amounts of it right now. It’s a tiny country – virtually everyone has a friend or family member that was killed or kidnapped, or knows someone who does. Thousands of rockets have been fired at Israel in the last few months – think about the fact that the Iron Dome exists and why it needs to. Terror attacks are ongoing; I feel like there’s been at least one every week since October. Thousands of people are displaced from their homes, either because of the rocket fire, or because their homes and communities were physically destroyed in the largest pogrom in recent history – the deadliest single day for Jews since the Holocaust ended. If that’s not trauma inducing, I don’t know what is.
And there is, of course, the generational trauma. And I think Jewish generational trauma is interesting because it’s so layered. Because it’s not just the result of one trauma passed down through the generations. Every 50-100 years, antisemitism intensifies, and so very frequently the people experiencing a traumatic event were already suffering from the generational trauma that their grandparents or great grandparents lived through. And those elders were holding the generational trauma from the time before that. And so on.
And because it happens so regularly, there’s always someone in the community that remembers the last time. We are never allowed the luxury of imagining that we are safe. We know what happened before, and we know that it happened again and again and again. And so we know that it only makes sense to assume it will happen in the future. The trauma response is valid. I live in America because my great grandparents lived in Russia and they knew when it was time to get the hell out in the 1900s. And the reason they knew that is because their grandparents remembered the results of the blood libels in the 1850s. How can we heal when the scar tissue keeps us safe?
I look around now and wonder if we’ll need to run. We have a plan. I repeat, my family has a plan for what to do if we need to flee the country due to religious persecution. How can that possibly be normal? And yet, all the Jewish families I know have similar plans. It is normal if you’re Jewish. Every once in a while I see someone who isn’t Jewish talk about making plans to leave because they’re LGBTQ or some other minority and the question always seems to be, “should I make a plan?” It astounds me every time. The Jewish answer is that you need to have a plan and the only question is, “when should I act?” Sometimes our Jewish friends discuss it at play dates. Where will you go? What are the triggers to leave? No one wants to go any earlier then they have to. Everyone knows what the price of holding off too long might be.
I want to keep my children safe. When do I induct them into the club? When do I let my sweet, innocent kids know that some people will hate them for being Jewish? When do I teach them the skills my parents and grandparents taught me? How to pass as white, how to pass as Christian, knowing when to keep your mouth shut about what you believe. When do I tell them about the Holocaust and teach them the game “would this person hide me?” How hard do I have to work to remind them that while you want to believe that a person would hide you, statistically, most people you know would not have? Who is this more traumatic for? Them, to learn that there is hatred in the world and it is directed at them, or me, to have to drive some of the innocence out of my own children’s eyes in order to make sure they are prepared to meet the reality of the world?
And the reality of the world is that it is FULL of antisemitism. There’s a lot of…I guess I’d call it mild antisemitism that’s always present that you just kinda learn to ignore. It’s the sort of stuff that non-Jews might not even recognize as antisemitic until you explain it to them, just little micro-aggressions that you do your best to ignore because you know that the people doing it don’t necessarily mean it, it’s just the culture we live in. It can still hurt though. I like to compare it to a bruise: you can mostly ignore it, but every once in a while something (more blatant antisemitism) will put a bit to much pressure on it and you remember that you were already hurting this whole time.
On top of the background antisemitism, there’s more intense stuff. And usually the most intense, mask off antisemitism comes from the right. This makes sense, in that a lot of right politics are essentially about hating the “other” and what are Jews if not Western civilizations oldest type of “other”? On the one hand, I’ve always been fortunate enough to live in relatively liberal areas so this sort of antisemitism has felt far away and impersonal – they hate everybody, and I’m just part of everybody. On the other hand, until recently I’ve always considered this the most dangerous source of antisemitism. This is the antisemitism that leads to hate crimes, that leads to synagogue shootings. This is the reason why my synagogue is built so that there is a long driveway before you can even see the building, and that driveway is filled with police on the high holidays. This is the reason why my husband and I were scared to hang a mezuzah in our first apartment (and second, and third). For a long time, this was the antisemitism that made me afraid.
But the left has a problem with antisemitism too. And it has always been there. Where the right hates the “other”, the left hates the “privileged/elite/oppressors.” It’s the exact same thing, just dressed up with different words. They all mean “other” and “other” means “Jew.” It hurts more coming from the left though. A lot of Jewish philosophy leans left. A lot of Jews lean left. So when the left decides to hate us, it isn’t a random stranger, it’s a friend, and it feels like a betrayal.
One of the people I follow works for Yad Vashem, and a few weeks ago she mentioned a video they have with testimonies from people who came to Israel after Kristallnacht, with an unofficial title of “The blow came from within.” The idea is that to non-German Jews, the Holocaust was something done by strangers. It was still terrible, but it is easier to bear the hate of a stranger – it’s not personal. But to German Jews, the Holocaust was a betrayal. It wasn’t done by strangers, it was done by coworkers, and neighbors and people they thought were friends. It was done by people who knew them, and still looked at them and said, “less than human.” And because of this sense of betrayal, German survivors, or Germans who managed to get out before they got rounded up, had a very different experience than other Holocaust victims.
And I feel like a lot of left leaning Jews are having a similar experience now. People that we’ve marched with or organized with, or even just mutuals that we’ve thought of as friends are now going on about how Jews are evil. They repeat antisemitic talking points from the Nazis and from the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, and when we point out that those ideas have only led to Jewish death in the past they don’t care. And if someone you thought of as a friend thinks of you this way, what do you think a stranger might think? Might do?
The Jews are fucking terrified. I’ve seen a post going around that basically wonders if this was what it was like for our ancestors – when things got bad enough to see what was coming but before it was too late to run? And we can see what’s coming. History tells us that they way people are talking and acting only leads to one place. I’m a millennial – when I was a kid the grandparents at my synagogue made sure the kids knew – this is what it looked like before, this is what you need to watch out for, this is when you need to run. I wonder where to run to. It feels like nowhere is safe.
I feel like I’ve been lucky in all this. I don’t live in Israel. I have family and acquaintances who do, but no one I’m particularly close to. Everyone I know in real life has either been sane or at least silent about all of this (the internet has been significantly worse, but when it comes to hate, the internet is always worse). I live in a relatively liberal area – there’s always been antisemitism around anyway, but it’s mostly just been swastikas on flyers, or people advocating for BDS, not anything that’s made me actually worry for my safety. But in the last 5 months there have been bomb threats at my synagogue, and just last week a kid got beat up for being Jewish at our local high school. He doesn’t want to report it. He’s worried it will make it worse.
I bought a Magen David to wear in November. At the time it seemed like the best way to fight antisemitism was to be visibly Jewish, to show that we’re just normal people like everyone else. Plus, I figured that if me being Jewish was going to be a problem for someone, then I would make it a problem right away and not waste time. I’ve worn it almost constantly since, but the one time I took it off was when I burnt my finger in December and had to go to urgent care. I didn’t think about it too much when I did it, but I thought about it for a long time after – I didn’t feel good about having made that choice.
The conclusion I came to is that the training that my elders had been so careful to instill in me kicked in. I was hurt, and scared, and the voice inside my head that sounds like my grandmother said, “don’t give them a reason to be bad to you. Fight when you’re well, but for now – survive.” It still felt cowardly, but it was also a connection to my ancestors who heeded the same voice well enough to survive. And it enrages me that that voice has been necessary in the past. And it enrages me that things are bad enough now that my instinct is that I need to hide who I am to receive appropriate medical care.
I wish I had some sort of final thought to tie this all together other than, “this sucks and I hate it,” but I really don’t. I could call for people to examine their antisemitic biases, but I’m not foolish enough to think that this will reach the people who need to do so. I could wish for a future where everything I’ve talked about here exists only in history books, and the Jewish experience is no longer tied to feeling this pain, but that’s basically wishing for the moshiach, and I’m not going to hold my breath.
I guess I’ll end it with the thought that through all of this hate and pain and fear, we’re still here. And we’re still joyful as well. As much as so many people have tried over literally THOUSANDS of years to eradicate us, I’m still here, I’m still Jewish, and being Jewish still makes me happy.
Am Yisrael Chai.
1K notes · View notes
fangswbenefits · 9 months
Text
Sweet Girl
Summary: Miguel isn’t all that excited about you joining spider society, so why and how does he enter a spiral of maddening obsession?
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader
Miguel POV. Obsessed Miguel. Soft/inexperienced reader. Pining.
This is more an of an introduction to my current series Frustration. You don’t have to read the first 3 parts to enjoy this.
Miguel crossed his arms as he stood on the lowered platform.
He was waiting.
And he hated being kept waiting.
Tense minutes went by until a swirling flash of light tore through the space continuum right in front of him.
Jessica Drew stepped out first, followed closely by Peter B. Parker.
And you.
You seemed so out of it, that Miguel wondered how a spider person could have been this badly affected by a mere dimensional travel.
As you tumbled out of the portal, you immediately lurched forward. “Oh, I’m going to be sick.”
Without further warning, you emptied the content of your stomach onto the floor.
Amazing.
Arching an eyebrow, he glared at Jess who was patting your back reassuringly.
“It’s her first time, Miguel,” she frowned lightly, helping you straighten up.
Peter offered you a tissue. “Oh, I remember my first time. My intestines were not the same for a week, and I do-”
Miguel immediately cut him off, not at all interested in hearing about Peter Parker’s bowl movements. “Welcome to Nueva York,” he stepped out of the platform, extending his hand to you. “I’m Miguel O’Hara.”
You cleared your throat and shook his hand. “So… you’re the boss.”
“I’m the boss.”
Miguel saw your eyes scanning him him up and down, widening slightly. “You’re… big.”
Peter snorted and Jessica chuckled.
But he could only roll his eyes. “You’ll eventually get used to your portal jumps.”
You scanned the room with curious eyes. “That portal really needs stabilisation,” you then mumbled, adjusting your suit. “The motion sickness…”
He scoffed. “You’re a spider-woman. I’m sure you can manage motion sickness.”
“Well… it’s not the same as swinging around in your web,” you retorted with a light shrug.
Jessica patted your shoulder. “That’s why we recruited you. Your intel might be able to helps us with some of these… instabilities.”
You immediately smiled brightly. “Oh, sure! I can’t wait to get started. This place looks so cool.”
Miguel groaned inwardly. Amateurs.
He had scanned your file thoroughly and had been against your recruitment initially, but Jess had brought up valid points in your favour, despite the fact that you had only been bitten less than six months ago.
Inexperienced and ambitious.
These two hardly ever worked together, but your vast knowledge in tech compounds had made him give Jess the benefit of the doubt.
“Follow me. I’ll have to draw blood to run some tests and Lyla here will fill you in later on other procedures.”
The hologram popped in obnoxiously by your shoulder. “If he asks nicely, that is.”
Your mouth dropped open in absolute bewilderment. “Woah! AI? That is really, really awesome!”
“Thank you, pumpkin,” she grinned with a wink.
Miguel paced through the long halled that stretched out towards Lab 1, with you following close by, as Peter and Jess flanked you.
From the corner of his eye, he saw you glaring out of the tall windows, completely transfixed by the the countless skyscrapers that sprawled out as far as the eye could see.
“You built this?” your voice echoed in sheer wonder.
“Yes.”
“All of this?”
“Miguel is really gifted with technology,” Peter chimed in proudly.
“Woah…”
That tingled his ego nicely.
As the four of you walked inside the lab, the surrounding spiders at work glanced over, voicing their greetings.
“Take a seat.”
You immediately did as he said with Jessica standing next to you, hand on your shoulder.
Miguel put his gloves on and readied the material for the blood testing.
“Give me your arm.”
“So you’re a tech guy…” you started, and he gripped your forearm, rolled the sleeve of your suit up with fingers probing for a vein. “What else?”
“A geneticist.”
“Nice! So you’re like a two for one type of deal?”
Once he found what he was looking for, he aligned the tube with your skin. “This will sting a bit.”
Before you could reply, you let out a gasp at the sudden intrusion.
“And you work at the lab, too?”
“Do you always ask so many questions?” Miguel said, waiting for the tube to fill in.
You nodded with a warm smile. “I just like to know what I’m getting myself into.”
You had no idea, but Miguel was testing you, trying to gather as much of your personality as he could. He enjoyed piecing people together like puzzles. It stroked his sense of control.
“I thought Jessica had briefed you.”
“I did,” she immediately said.
“Yet you’re the one drawing my blood,” you chirped happily, your eyes fixed on his.
Well, maybe you had an idea.
Miguel felt the corner of his lips turn into a faint smile.
Good.
He needed perceptive people around.
He pulled away from from you slightly and pressed a cotton pad to the small puncture.
Sliding open one of the drawers nearby, he grabbed a watch, never letting go of your arm.
“This is a dimensional travel watch,” he explain, snapping it snugly around your wrist. “Keep it with you at all times.”
He let go of you and you seized the moment to inspect it closer, fascination never leaving your face.
“Let me guess… you also built this,” you said with a chuckle, pressing on the screen a few times.
He reached out his hand to stop you. “This is not a toy. Lyla will inform you on how to properly use it.”
You nodded firmly.
“Welcome to spider society.”
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It didn’t take long for Miguel to start walking in on you sleeping in the lab.
For the fourth time.
He was all too familiar with the riveting excitement that came with scientific progress that often led to many sleepless nights.
But he still couldn’t allow this to keep happening.
Halting a few inches away from you, he took a moment to access the situation: you sat hunched over the lab table, head resting on folded arms and a string of drool dangling from the corner of your mouth.
A heavy sigh parted his lips.
He tapped his foot once on the leg of your chair, causing you to jolt upright with a yelp, nearly falling back from the loss of balance as the chair swayed dangerously.
But Miguel was fast enough to prevent that by steadying you with a firm grip on your shoulder. You then leaned forward, panting and clutching at your chest.
“Good morning.”
You turned your head to stare at him, deep bags under your eyes and sleep lines covering your face. “Miguel! Oh — hi! I’m… oh my… that was such a scare!”
His crimson eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s the fourth time this week.”
Trying to regain some composure, you straightened your clothes and wiped the string of drool trailing down your chin with the back of your hand.
“Right. I was… uh…” you paused abruptly and looked around, as if momentarily disoriented. “Oh. Yeah! I am — was working on running some diagnostics and must have dozed off waiting for the results… and-”
He clicked his tongue and spun your chair around, effectively silencing you, his eyes boring into yours. “This isn’t going to happen again. You need to rest.”
You swallowed. “I was resting…”
Miguel didn’t have neither the patience nor the time for this.
“You need proper rest,” he pressed on with a scowl. “Jessica scouted you for a reason, and if you’re too sleep-deprived to work, you’re of no use to us.”
You broke eye contact with him, lowering your head. “I’m sorry…”
The sincerity in your voice took him slightly aback, and he relaxed his face, wondering if he had perhaps been too harsh.
You were chewing on your lip, staring down at your entwined hands.
He had no idea why, but his heart skipped a beat.
Probably stress.
“Look,” he tried again, softer this time. “I know what it’s like to want more. To do more. I’ve been there,” he then crouched, so he could eye-level with you. “But you can’t keep pushing yourself like this. We have time to figure this out.”
You looked to the side, hesitating at first. “I… was talking to other spiders and some mentioned they feel the side effects of motion sickness if they use the portal more than twice a day,” you went on with newfound confidence, gripping the pad on the table and lighting up the screen. “I’m close to getting the chips to work and ther-”
Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stop. Stop.”
You did.
“What part of me saying you need to sleep didn’t you understand?”
“I don’t mind sacrificing a few nights of sleep if it means I can help other spiders,” you said, a flash of defiance crossing your eyes. “Seriously, Miguel. I need to get this done… I need it.”
Miguel’s strictness shattered.
He then saw a reflection of himself staring right at him.
So much of your determination and persistence reminded him of his early days as a scientist. The struggle, the hunger for results, the need to achieve something that could help so many…
“I know you’re looking out for me,” you went on, placing one hand on his shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze. “And I’m grateful, but science and progress don’t wait. I know I can be helpful, so let me.”
For the first time in a very long time, Miguel O’Hara was left speechless.
“Please don’t fire me,” you laughed nervously.
He blinked a couple of times and stared down at his watch.
6:14AM
“You can come back in twelve hours.”
Your eyes widened in sheer excitement, lips parting into a wide smile.
He quicky lifted one finger. “If you try to sneak in, I’ll know.”
Your smile faltered, as he saw right through your intentions.
“And I’ll have you sent back to your dimension faster than you can say Nueva York. Got it?”
You lifted one hand in a salute and nodded.
He scowled. “And… stop hanging around Hobie.”
Dropping your hand, you bolted forward from your chair to hug him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
The sudden motion nearly caused him to topple over and you immediately let go of him, as he rose to his full height again.
“Oh! Sorry!” you stepped away, patting his arm apologetically.
He blinked.
Then, grabbing your pad, you began tapping rapidly. “I’m uploading all the data to your watch, so please take a look.”
He blinked again.
You gathered your backpack and threw him a final warm smile. “If you find anything important, please let me know!”
Miguel nodded curtly, but remained rooted in place, as you hurried across the lab and past the sliding door.
His heart skipped a beat for the second time that day.
Then it dawned on him: the last person who had hugged him had been Gabriella.
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Miguel should probably call himself a hypocrite.
He was heavily against you or any other spider dozing off in the lab, but he had been indulging in this quite often as of late.
By the time he rose from his slumber, and sat back on his padded chair, he realised something soft had been placed around his shoulders.
He tugged on it and was met with a blanket covered in tiny prints of Peter B. Parker’s face.
This was definitely Mayday’s.
“What…” he drawled out, blinking a few times to adjust his eyes to the brightness that poured in from the windows.
The clock on the wall marked nine in the morning.
He stared down at his desk to find a handwritten note next to a plate of… empanadas?
“Hi~
wanted to wake you up, but you were sleeping so soundly and I didn’t want to disturb you. I found Mayday’s blankie on my lab desk — I suspect Hobie is sneaking her around to pull a prank on me hehe xOx
P.S. Jess told me you like empanadas, so I tried making some for you. Hope you like them~ (I’m crossing my fingers)
P.S. 2 You need proper rest :)”
You.
It had been you.
He glared at the plate containing the pastries, and grabbed one.
His heightened senses allowed him to immediately get flooded with an overwhelming delicious smell.
Taking a bite, he fluttered his eyes shut, allowing the overwhelming combination of flavours to take over.
It tasted so, so good.
It tasted like home.
He rose to his feet and walked out, scanning the lab for traces of you.
But he was met with Jessica instead who had just walked in.
“Oh, you look terrible.”
He swallowed what was left in his mouth. “Thanks.”
Her gaze dropped to your hand. “Oh! Did she make those for you?”
“Uh… yes.”
He felt ridiculous for having mumbled it like that.
The two of them paced along the corridors and into Lab 2, where you were sitting, back turned to them, visibly engrossed in your tasks.
“How’s she been doing?”
He took another bite. “Good. She’s persistent and focused. Those are good traits to have in this field.”
“She reminds me of yourself.”
Miguel wasn’t surprised in the slightest, because it was an undeniable fact.
“Hopefully, she won’t make the same mistakes I did.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll make some along the way,” she shrugged casually. “And she’ll learn from them, as you did.”
Miguel kept his gaze fixed on you and felt a strange need arise in him.
To look after you.
He took the last bite and savoured it in silence, as Jessica eyed him curiously.
“She really is a sweet girl,” she ended up saying lovingly. “She asked me what your comfort food was.”
Sweet girl.
He let the name replay in his head, and determined he liked the sound of it. It was fitting.
“Go on. Say it.”
Miguel arched an eyebrow at this. “Say what?”
Jess threw him a smug look. “That I was right for recruiting her. That you were wrong.”
In truth, Miguel hated having to admit to his mistakes, and it wasn’t even related to his ego or inability to take criticism.
As he had come to learn the hard way, his mistakes would usually lead to catastrophic consequences.
But when it came to you, he had no problem admitting he had been in the wrong. You had proved to be quite capable of handling a multitude of tasks.
… and now you were starting to grow on him.
“Yes. You were right, Jessica,” he mumbled, his eyes fixed on you. “She really is… something.”
She patted his back a few times. “Are you turning into a softie, Miguel?”
He scowled. “No.”
“Go ahead and thank her, then,” she said with a smile.
Miguel didn’t like being told what to do. He had every intention of letting you know he was grateful for your efforts.
But it had to be in his own way.
He parted ways with Jess and mad his way to you.
“Hey.”
You turned in your chair, bearing that kind smile he had grown so accustomed to. “Hi! You’re awake.”
“Cearly,” he grumbled with a shrug.
“Did you like the empanadas?”
He nodded. “They tasted amazing. Thank you.”
Like home.
“Great!” you beamed, your smile never wavering. “You looked really adorable while sleeping. Sorry for not waking you up.”
Adorable…?
He felt a lump form in his throat. Your energy was contagious, and he considered embracing it.
But he didn’t want to cave in…
He was a stubborn man by nature.
But he also didn’t want you to think he was too cold and distant like many in Nueva York thought.
“I want to show you something,” he said, tapping on his watch.
You waited expectantly and the screen in front of your flickered momentarily before a video started playing.
File: Gabriella.006
He didn’t even bother staring at the screen. He already knew by heart its content, and he didn’t want to revist the pain today.
No.
His eyes were fixed on you, instead.
He knew Lyla had already mentioned the event that led to him deciding to protect the multiverse.
He knew you knew of Gabriella.
Of what he had done.
Your smile dropped as the video went on, even though the sound of giggles and splashing water echoed around you.
“I’m not showing you this for you to feel bad for me.”
You shook your head, parting your eyes from the screen. “That didn’t even cross my mind.”
He paused the video.
“Right.”
Your eyes held kindness and your voice became softer. “I know why you’re showing this to me.”
He highly doubted it, but he waited for you to go on.
“We take care of each other here,” you began, twirling your chair to fully face bim. “And that means being open to showing vulnerabilities.”
He remained silent, digesting your words.
“Am I wrong?”
Partially, but he wouldn’t tell you that. The justification he had settled for in his head didn’t come close to your own.
And his heart skipped a beat.
He grown used to it happening whenever around you, but this time it felt more alarming.
More urgent.
“Miguel?”
You were eyeing him with concern, your hand reaching out to touch his arm.
He snapped out of his thoughts, and took a step back. “Send me the files you were working on yesterday. I need to check the coding.”
You gave him a nod, and he saw understanding soften your expression. He had expected you to press him on for an answer, but he was grateful you hadn’t.
“Oh, and… thank you, again. For… you know…” he drawled out as he ran a hand through his hair.
“You got it, Miguel,” you said, smiling sweetly.
Sweet girl.
His sweet girl.
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It took Miguel one week to start dreaming about you.
At first, it would be a conglomerate of nonsensical blobs with your face or voice here and there. But as days went by, some began to take shape.
Your shape.
Nowadays, it would be your face and voice that would keep him company after tiring missions.
He had gotten quite fond of it.
Until things took a turn.
And he would wake up with a throbbing ache in between his legs, begging for relief.
That was when he knew he was letting his admiration for you get the best of him.
As he rose from his bed and walked to the tall window in his bedroom, he saw the sun lighting up the horizon line, bathing Nueva York in rays of orange and yellow.
He had built all of this in the hopes of a better future.
But now he started longing for one that had you in it somehow.
As a fellow spider.
A fellow scientist.
A friend, even.
He squinted as his sensitive eyes became increasingly sore from the intense light, so he moved to his bedside table and grabbed the peace of paper you had left him days ago.
Your handwriting mirrored your personality: graceful and captivating.
Maybe he should have tossed it away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.
Walking into his living room, he booted up the screens on the wall.
There was this crescendo inside him that urged him to look for you.
He tapped through various sections of the lan, but he found you near the refrigeration area, tapping on your chin with a pencil, as you glared at the screens in front of you.
He wanted to call you.
To hear your voice first thing in the morning.
To commend you for being up so early already and committing to your duties.
Suddenly, he saw your lips turn into a soft knowing smile, and he knew you must have figured something out.
Of course you had.
Your perception and tenacity were unmatched.
As much as he wanted to talk to you, he decided against it.
In his mind, he was too undeserving of anything more than a friendship with you.
He convinced himself that he was not good enough, and that he was meant to watch you from afar.
You were just like a flame. Too close and it burns. Too far away and it freezes.
He grazed his thumb across the screen, close to you.
His sweet, sweet girl.
It would be better off this way. Not for him, of course. He was already in too deep. But it would be better for you.
You deserved better.
But he still craved you.
Miguel recognised the feeling that was started to seep into his heart and mind. He had almost forgotten how suffocating that felt.
He couldn’t tear his eyes from your face.
He couldn’t tear his heart from your hold.
The level of despair was unmistakable and he knew exactly what this feeling was.
Frustration.
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bagofshinyrocks · 3 months
Text
The Baby is Sick
Prompt: The baby (and the two of you) somehow got a cold. Simon wants to make sure you get enough rest and decide to take care of the baby when he wakes up in the middle of the night. [Requested by @ertepla]
Featuring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: none
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You weren’t sure who brought a cold into your house. If it was someone besides you or Simon, you cursed them and wished them every single misery. If it was either you or your husband, you had no strong feelings. As you two were already in purgatory.
Because the baby was sick. And when baby was sick, he decided to make everyone else equally (or more so) miserable.
You and Simon were always covered in snot and saliva, as your son had not yet learn to not sneeze or cough directly in someone’s face. The baby wasn’t eating as much, which scared the shit out of you. No one was sleeping well.
“I know, little man, I know,” Simon soothed, as your son whined and flailed in his arms. “I know, it’s not fun. But it’s gonna help.” 
He was wrestling a nose aspirator into the second nostril. You didn’t blame your kid, having a tube that sucks all the snot out of your nose real fast didn’t sound real comfortable. But you know what was worse? Cleaning the snot out of the tube.
“See? You can breathe better.”
Simon bounced the boy a little, and he soon stopped crying, though still a bit grumpy with his dad. He started breathing through his nose and accepted his bottle again. You almost cried in relief.
“He’s okay, lovie,” murmured your husband, siddling up next to you and wrapping his arms around the two of you.
Your son looked up at the two of you with sleepy eyes. Simon’s brown eyes fluttered behind the boy’s lashes, and his hold on his bottle got looser. You helped him angle his bottle into his mouth and Simon rubbed his stomach.
He got through three quarters of the bottle before pushing it aside, and you considered that a victory.
“Time for bed, little bug?” you cooed, gently raising him up and walking to his nursery. Little burps and sleepy noises as you went and 
While you changed the baby and wiped his face of snot, milk, and drool, Simon refilled the humidifier and covered the windows to hide the fact the sun was still up. Any time your son seemed a little sleepy, you two would put him down for bed and then try to get as much sleep for yourselves.
With the care of disabling an explosive, Simon lowered the boy into his crib and tucked him in. You watched silently from the hallway and he tiptoed back to you and closed the door.
“Time for bed,” he whispered to you.
“It’s only 7 PM.”
“I know.” He beamed. “Aren’t I good husband? We get to go to bed early.”
Fifteen minutes later, you two were tucked into your own bed. Heads elevated with pillows, cups of water nearby, and a humidifier running quietly. The chest rub and a generous amount of petroleum gel on your lips and noses made the two of you shiny.
“Nighty night, baby,” you murmured.
“G’night, honey.”
Simon jerked awake at the first squawk. You hadn’t even moved by the time he was stumbling into the nursery and leaning over the crib.
“Wha’s wrong, little man,” he asked in a gravelly, sleepy voice.
The boy’s face was red, and tears and snot dripped anew. Little hands reached for Dad, and Dad picked him up.
“You’re alright.” Pats on the boy’s back and gentle bounces. “Dad’s here. Dad’s gotcha.” Small fingers burrowed into the collar of his hoodie and a small splotch of drool and snot darkened his shoulder. After a few moments of silence, Simon leaned the boy back and asked him what was up.
He held up his little fist and opened and closed it. Hungry.
Simon kissed the boy on the forehead and walked to the kitchen. “Just like Uncle Johnny. Always ready for another bottle.”
Simon expertly made half a bottle with one hand, while the little man sniffled and watched. A tissue to his nose helped a bit, and Simon decided against another round with the nose aspirator till the morning. Well, sunlight morning. All of you had slept from 7 PM to 1 AM.
More kisses and your boy started his bottle while Simon made himself a snack. With a sandwich and a boy in each hand, he sat on the couch and turned on the TV. 
While the baby was transfixed by dancing fruit and sucking down his bottle, Simon could eat the whole sandwich. And “rest his eyes” for a few minutes.
A particularly dangerous sounding burp woke him again and he immediately grabbed a towel and started burping him, turning his back to the screen.
“Christ, that was a wet one. Get any on ya?”
No response as the boy stared at the blueberries and pineapples.
“Yeah, I’d keep that to myself, too.”
After almost five minutes, the boy’s head sat heavily on his shoulder and his brown eyes could barely stay open. Another diaper change, more rocking, and then placing him in the crib like an active bomb.
Success.
Simon changed his hoodie without bothering to look at the damage (he could smell it) and crawled back into bed with you.
The bags under your eyes had lightened in your sleep, and your nose looked less raw. He kissed the tip of it gently and fell back asleep with ease.
Simon woke up again around 10 AM, to small hands grabbing at his nose. He opened bleary eyes to the smile of an elated infant.
“Dadadadada.”
“Mm, tha’s me.”
The mattress dipped a little as you sat down.
“Morning, handsome.”
The little man crawled on top of his dad’s chest and sat down, playing with his nose and the strings of his hoodie.
“Morning, sexy,” chuckled Simon, guiding your face to his. A sweet kiss, joined by the baby, who shoved his face against yours. He didn’t like being left out.
“Guess who drank a full bottle this morning?”
“Didja really?” cooed Simon, poking the boy’s tummy. “He had half a bottle at around 1.”
“He woke up at 1?”
Simon squeezed the little socked feet. “Yeah, he was hungry. And needed a change. He went back down quick after that.”
You kissed your husband’s forehead. “Thank you for waking up, baby.”
“Mm. You needed some more sleep.” A nip at your lip until you leaned back in for another longer kiss. “Can’t have my sexy thing staying sick.”
“I’ll get him tonight then.” He scrunched up his face and started to protest. “Ah. I can’t have my sexy thing sick either.” You squeezed the muscles of his upper arms and waggled your eyebrows.
The baby squawked and broke the sultry eye contact between you and your husband. Then he giggled as he and his father’s chest went up and down with a laugh.
“Oh trust me, little man, you’ll be an only child for a while.” Simon poked the boy’s tummy again. “Don’chu worry. Sneezing straight into my yawning mouth has made sure of that.”
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Posted: 2024 January 17
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cherryredstars · 7 months
Note
hello cherry!!
I really love your work, and I was wondering if you could do a second part of Miguel being CEO (In the job description)
I'm very sorry if I don't express myself well, English is not my first language
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Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+, Smut with Some Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Use of Vibrators, Penetrative Sex, Mirror Sex, Slight Slapping
Summary: Don’t accept gifts from your boss…or wear it. 
A/N: I made an alternate version of this (basically part 1.5), so let me know if you guys want me to post that one!
Word Count: 3K (Not Edited)
Reverse AU Part 1 Part 1.5
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It was extremely unprofessional.
That’s what you thought when Miguel passed by your desk the morning after your little… moment in his office. He gave you a fleeting smirk as he placed a medium-sized black box right in front of you. A deep blush spread across your face, unable to meet his eyes while he stared at you for a few minutes before walking away and shutting the door to his office. An uneasy feeling filled your stomach as you watched the door before sliding your eyes over the box.
It was the type of box someone would get clothes in for Christmas, only pricer and better quality. A pretty silk ribbon held the lid and bottom together, in a matching matte black color. Carefully, you pulled at one of the ends, the bow easily unraveling. When you took the ribbon off, a deeper blush spread over your body as you saw the words engraved into the cardboard. 
Stamped on the box was the name of the popular lingerie store in the shopping district. It was a store you passed by daily on your way to and from work, and a store that was most definitely out of your price range even with the gracious salary you had. Your hands instantly slapped over the words, leaning over your desk to see if anyone was coming or if Miguel was making any move to leave his office. When the coast was clear, you hesitantly sat back down. 
You cleared your throat nervously, staring at the box before giving into your curiosity. As gently as possible, you lifted the lid of the box, face slightly hiding behind it to obscure your view. An exhale leaves you as maroon tissue paper covers whatever is inside. You take another deep breath before leaning forward and lifting one flap of the tissue paper. A surprised gasp leaves you, staring at the 3 pairs of lacy underwear in the box. 
Each panty is made from lacy material, making them slightly see-through. When you run your hands over them, they’re delicate to the touch and you can tell its high quality stuff. Each one is a different color. The first is a set of white panties to replace the ones from yesterday that Miguel claims to have no idea about. The second one, a deep navy blue that is fairly similar to the navy blue of Miguel’s favorite designer suits. And lastly, a blush color that rivals the one across your cheeks. 
You’re so caught up in just marveling at the contents of the package, that you don’t realize Miguel is standing in front of your desk until he starts speaking. “I take it you like them?”
You’re instantly jolted and clumsily try to cover up the panties and close the box. You’re sure if someone saw your face, it would be a damn near perfect color match to one of those pairs of panties. You shyly look up at Miguel clearing your throat and leaning back in your chair to create more distance between the two of you. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
A lazy smirk spreads against Miguel’s face before he shakes his head in amusement. “I was calling you into my office, but you didn’t seem to hear the buzzer.” He hums, eyes trained on the black box he gifted you. You can tell he’s tempted to say something by the way his mouth straightens and his brows furrow slightly, but he ends up not commenting on it and continues what he was saying before. “I was going to tell you that the charity fundraiser is this weekend, and we have to attend to meet the new potential merger.” 
His words make you want to grab the box on your desk and slam it against your head a few trillion times. It’s no secret that both you and Miguel hate the monthly fundraisers. Okay, that sounds bad. Both you and Miguel are happy that somewhere over a hundred grand gets donated to great charities, it’s just the whole business aspect of it you hate. Having to sit around with smiles that are so fake that they cause the muscles of your cheeks to ache, listening to some old CEO who is in dire need to retire spew on and on about very old fashioned beliefs, and the undercooked batches of pasta they serve at the venues are barely anything to gush about. 
Miguel can sense the discontent rolling off of you in waves, an apologetic sigh leaving his lips. “Do you need a dress or shoes? It’s the Unique charity this year, black-tie event as per usual.”
A heavy sigh leaves you and your finger traces the edge of the box. You mentally go through your closet, trying to remember if you have any appropriate dresses that you haven’t worn in previous years. You come up blank, an oncoming migraine forming at your temple. “I’ll figure something out.”
Miguel gives a displeased hum, knocking his fists against your desk. He leans away, fixing the sleeves of his button up and ruffling his hair. “No worries, I’ll have LYLA send you authorization for my business card and a few dress and shoes options.”
You’re about to protest, but the sound of his phone ringing interrupts you. Miguel rolls his eyes as he sees the contact, answering it and turning away as he grumbles out a greeting. He walks towards his office and turns to give you one last nod before entering. A deep sigh leaves you and you close your eyes as you lean back into your chair. You squint one eye open, eyeing the box before stuffing it in your bag with a huff.
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“Oh god, oh god, oh god!” 
You run around your small apartment, nothing but a towel covering your body. Your hair is the only thing done, going for an easy blow drying and curling. You groan when you see the pile of laundry in your room, rummaging in your panty drawer to find nothing but a few that are in desperate need to be thrown away due to their worn out state. You’re on the verge of crying when you see the black box thrown carelessly on top of your other drawer. 
You bite your lip, nerves swallowing your being. You weren’t ever planning to wear them, I mean they’re from your boss for god’s sake! But really, you have no choice. With an annoyed groan and exhale, you grab the box and grab the navy blue pair, the color matching the color of your dress. You hastily slip them on, rushing back and forth between your bathroom and your bedroom to do your makeup and get dressed. 
By the time you finish the struggle of zipping up your dress, your phone rings with Miguel’s number. You grab your phone and your purse, answering as you slip on your heels. Miguel’s gruff voice echos as you press the speaker option and unlock your door. He grumbles that the driver is outside your house and you hum in acknowledgement as you check your bag for everything you need as you shut the door behind you after locking it. You rush down the hall and into the elevator, tapping your foot impatiently as you wait to reach the ground floor. 
Once the doors slide open, you’re speed walking to the exit and instantly spotting the sleek black car right against the curb. Miguel stands by the car door, a loud ping ringing from his phone that causes his brows to furrow. He looks up at the sound of your heels, that furrowed look still on his face as he eyes you up and down. You copy his facial expression, asking him what’s wrong. He only looks back down at his phone, dismissing whatever it was and opening the car door for you.
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You have no idea how you got here. 
The second you and Miguel entered the venue, the both of you had down a flute of champagne and gone through the agonizingly long process of greeting every current and future business partner that was present. Everything was going fine, your fake smile was yet to ache and the desserts looked promising. That was until, of course, a sharp zap ran up your spine as you felt something vibrating against you. 
You had choked on your words, trying to play it off with an abrupt sip of alcohol and a strained laugh as you conversed with some of Miguel’s business partners while he dismissed himself for a quick run to the bar. It had been sudden, maybe a trick played on you by your own mind, until it started again. But this time, it was more intense. You had hurriedly excused yourself, making up some excuse before dashing towards the bathroom. 
You rushed through the door, sighing in relief when no one else was inside. You hurried to the counter of sinks, leaning your elbows on the surface as you bent over and hissed. The vibration, that was most definitely coming from your fucking panties, just seemed to be more intense as you shifted from leg to leg and clenched your thighs to relieve the feeling. A struggling whimper left you as you lifted your head to look into the mirror, jumping when you see Miguel leaned against a bathroom stall and staring at you. You must not have heard him enter through the foggy mess in your head. 
You instantly snap up, legs crossed as you turn around and clutch the edge of the counter tightly. You open your mouth, about to scold Miguel for being in the women’s bathroom, but another desperate whine leaves you as the vibration around your clit focuses on the perfect spot from your new stance. Miguel’s brow raises as his eyes ghost down your form, catching the way sweat begins to break on your hairline. A lazy smirk crosses his face when he pulls out his phone from his dress pants, tapping around it a few times before you slouch. 
A sense of relief fills you as the strong vibrating stops and your clit is given a break. A heavy sigh leaves you, head tilting down before the realization hits you. Your head instantly snaps up, your wide eyes meeting Miguel’s mischievous ones. Of course. What else would he do but give you fucking vibrating panties. Your eyes trail down to his phone, watching as he taps it with his thumb again and suddenly the vibration is back. Your body tenses up again, and you watch helplessly as Miguel walks over to you. 
He presses his hand into the front of your dress, directly over your panties. The pressure of his hand makes the vibration stronger, and a choked gasp leaves you. Miguel hums, feeling the strong vibrations through your dress, his eyes moving to your face. “I didn’t think you’d ever wear ‘em.”
That makes two of us, You think as your eyes squint into a glare, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent a noise threatening to spill out. Your hands come up to hold onto Miguel’s wrist, trying weakly to take his hand away. He only chuckles, pressing his hand harder against you before taking it away. Your hands fall from him, insead returning to grip on the counter when he turns you around quickly. A wave of deja vu hits you when he presses down on your lower back so your chest is fully pressed, his hands hurriedly gathering your dress so the surplus of fabric bunches around your waist. 
His hand skims the center of your underwear, two fingers pressing against your clothed clit. A moan leaves you as the vibrations grow stronger under his fingers, your hips squirming to get away. Miguel’s hand tightens around your waist, making it harder for you to move. He watches you from the mirror, enjoying the concentrated and tortured look on your face. 
“You know,” Miguel starts lazily, fingers starting to draw slow circles on your clit, “You never answered my question before.” A loud gasp leaves you and you hiss out his name after his hand comes to give your clit a firm slap. “Do you like my gift?”
A weak sound leaves you as you bite your lip. Your hips try to press into Miguel’s hand when he starts his slow circles again, crying out when he removes his hand completely. You hear the rustling of a belt buckle and pants, your gasp in sync with the hiss Miguel lets out when he presses the head of his cock into your panties. The vibrations play against his head, his hand holding his base as he rubs himself up and down the length of your panties. His eyes flutter shut, mouth dropping open in a silent moan as he enjoys the feel of your increasingly wet panties and the vibrating. 
His hand pushes your panties to the side, his cock falling forward to poke at your glistening entrance. Even though the vibrating panties aren’t directly over your clit, you can still feel them from their place right besides it. Your own eyes flutter shut, moaning at the feel before Miguel’s hand grasps your face from behind. His large hand squishes your cheeks together and your eyes flutter open to see his face right besides yours in the mirror. Both Miguel’s and your eyes meet in the mirror, his demanding while yours are hazy. 
His tip slightly slides into you and you groan. Miguel’s hold tightens on your face when he pulls out. “Answer the question, preciosa.”
A weak nod leaves you, a puff of air escaping your nose as you lean your hips back to grind slightly against Miguel’s cock. A strangled grunt leaves him and His eyes fall down to where you’re grinding before looking back at you. His breath is hot against your cheek, causing shivers down your spine. “Don’t look away. Just watch.”
Without warning, he slams into you. A loud scream leaves you, eyes threatening to roll back as you watch him. His eyes are dark and focused on where he thrusts brutally into you, your body sliding closer to the mirror before he pulls you back towards him. You make a weak attempt to talk, stuttering out something about the door before he grunts and replies it’s locked. It does little to conceal your worries. As if sensing it, Miguel’s hand slides up to your mouth to cover it, muffling the noises you’re letting out. 
The only sounds that can’t be muffled are the soft, wet sounds that come from his heavy balls hitting against your wet heat. You’re so wet that you’re coating him, a stickiness connecting his balls to your cunt as he thrusts. Your eyes roll back and a harsh slap is thrown against your cheek. Unfocused eyes meet Miguel’s angered ones, his thrusts turning harsher and more punishing as he looks at you disapprovingly.
“I told you to watch. Keep your eyes on the mirror or I'll stop.”
A sound of protest leaves you, mumbling out sorry repeatedly as you try to keep your eyes focused on the mirror. The view is shaking from the way your body jolts with each pump of his hips, but he doesn’t seem to care. If anything, it makes him go faster and try to see how shaky he can make your vision and your legs. His hand gives you one more smack to the cheek before covering your mouth again. 
Your legs feel like they’re about to give out and that hotness is forming at the bottom of your stomach. Miguel’s is fast approaching too, the sensation of your tight, warm walls sucking him in and the slight vibrations running through your walls from the vibrating panties. His hand leaves your hip, moving in between your legs and moving the shaking fabric back over your clit. The angle is awkward, trying to find it under layers of falling fabric from your dress while he’s hammering his cock into you. But eventually he gets it, and you instantly fall apart. 
Your scream is muffled by Migue’s hand, your body shaking as you clench tightly around him and gush all over his cock. Miguel lets out a curse, his thrusts stuttering and becoming clumsy. You call out his name weakly, and he’s gone. He stills with a deep groan, filling you up with his warmth. You both stand there for a moment, basking in the aftershocks of pleasure before you start suffering from overstimulation from the still vibrating underwear. 
You weakly cry out to Miguel, who hurriedly turns on his phone and kills the vibrating. A deep, grateful sigh leaves you as you slump forward. A small moan leaves you when Miguel pulls out, reaching up to the tissue paper dispensers to wipe you and him down. He rebuckles his pants, pulling your panties back in place and your dress down. You flinch when the drenched fabric meets you, half expecting for it to start vibrating again. Instead, another piece of paper tissue is dabbed against your face and neck as Miguel tries to rid your skin of sweat without fully removing your makeup. 
A grateful noise leaves you before you stand up when Miguel steps back. When you turn your head towards him, a soft kiss is pressed to your cheek. Miguel strokes the spot with his thumb, eyes trailing to yours before he looks away and moves towards the door. 
“Not going to steal my panties this time?” You can’t help but call out, hands still gripping the edge of the sinks tightly.
Miguel turns with a teasing smile and shrugs. “Nah, you can keep them this time. Just make sure to wear one of the other pairs to work on Monday.”
A deep flush flows across your face at his innuendo, watching as he unlocks the door and slips out. A deep sigh leaves you as you turn towards the mirror again, an annoyed noise leaving you as you spot imperfections in your makeup. You open your bag, working on small touch-ups as you think back to what occurred a few minutes ago. A small smile crosses your face and you shake your head before you head to follow Miguel back out for another hour of socializing.
Just benefits of the job.
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kaijutegu · 4 months
Text
So. Now that she's home and safe and gonna be ok, I can talk about this.
I almost lost Kaiju. Christmas Day. I was woken up by a phone call from Allison, who will be referred to a LOT in this story. Allison runs the pet store where I board Kaiju. She called to tell me that Kaiju had lost a LOT of blood. (As it turns out, half her blood volume. Humans die when we lose 40%, just so you know. She lost 50%.)
There were no visible injuries, and she had passed a bloody stool. Or rather, a blood clot with some poop in it. She continued to pass only blood when they put her in the bathtub to clean her up. If I'd taken her anywhere else, that... would have been it, probably.
But Allison is an actual miracle worker and knew an emergency vet who was open- on Christmas Day- and could see reptiles. As soon as she called me, she took her to the e vet, where they gave her fluids and oxygen and got her stable. They did some x rays and found... nothing.
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In fact, the e vet actually complimented me on her bone density and how nice her toe joints look. Whatever this mysterious haemorrhage was, it was in the soft tissue.
The immediate thoughts were:
Impaction
Cancer invading an artery
Aneurism
Reproductive issues
However, the emergency vet couldn't figure it out, and my vet was out of the country. The e vet consulted with a lot of vets and it was decided she'd go into Chicago Exotics for care the next day- they were willing to see her on immediate notice. Allison drove her over and they did an ultrasound... and couldn't differentiate the mass they found.
So, exploratory surgery it was.
But... she didn't have enough blood for that. She wouldn't have survived... if Allison hadn't found blood for her. Tegu donors were found, the transfusion happened, and was completely successful.
And what the surgery found was completely unexpected. No cancer. No repro issues. No typical impaction.
Instead? Weird white things in her muscles and a partial impaction that seems to be related to a reduction in her ability to properly digest. There are two possible diagnoses at this point. One is visceral gout. This is very strange because in reptiles, articular gout basically always happens first, and her kidneys are fine.
The other option? Weird, potentially cross species parasite she picked up when she was in the Everglades. Something she's likely had all her life, something that was dormant until recently.
I'll know when the pathology report comes back in a week or so.
Anyways! She is doing very well. She is alert and interested in things. She has an incredible appetite, even though she can't have solid food yet. She's on three meds, including one I have to inject. At her three week recheck, we will add a fourth- either the correct anti-parasitic or a medication to improve kidney function, depending on the diagnosis. Currently she's in a hospital cage and she hates it- she can't have any substrate because of the stitches.
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The vet says it should take about three months until she makes her full blood volume. Her pack cell count should be at 35%. It was at 7% on the 26th. But by the 28th, it was at 10%. She's gonna be ok. She's tough. My little girl is a fighter, always has been. You have to be scrappy to survive in the wild.
And throughout this entire experience, everybody has told me how lovely her personality is. Through the injections and cloacal probing and everything, she never bit or even tried to. The vet didn't think she even wanted to bite. Like it wasn't a question of wanting to bite and not being strong enough- it's just not something in her behavioural repertoire. She doesn't bite because she doesn't want to. Because even at her most scared, at her most painful, she's still Kaiju, the best tegu to ever live. Love is stored in the tegu, and it continues to be stored in the tegu. We have a long road ahead of us, but she's out of the woods and is going to be ok. We both are.
Also, consider this a MAJOR plug for Curious Creatures in Chicago. I'm never going to board my animals anywhere else.
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inkdrinkerworld · 7 months
Text
Talk Too Much
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Pairing: Remus Lupin x loud but shy!reader
Cw: college!au, fluff, kind of friends to lovers, obliviousness by Remus for a while, drinking (mentioned), smoking (cigarettes), I think that’s it
Wc: 2.2k
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You’re a loudmouth. Through and through. Of all your friends, you honestly think you and James would be the ones to never shut up or run out of words.
That is until Remus transfers into the school and infiltrates your friend group and suddenly you find the words can run out.
It’s not on purpose.
It seems to take you over purely by coincidence- the way your throat gets dry and your tongue seems too heavy to form the words you want to get out when Remus seems to be paying attention to only you. His gaze isn’t unwelcome- that’s the entire problem.
You like the feeling of being what he looks at, but it feels too good, too natural.
His honey eyes that are just lightly flecked with green, and his sharp jawline that’s adorned with silvery scar tissue that somehow makes him even more handsome.
He’s also always got a cigarette to fiddle with.
You’ve only seen him smoke twice, and had been mesmerised by the way his cheeks hollow and how he blows the smoke out and it seems to curl around him like it’s unable to obey his exhales in the opposite direction.
He reminds you in a way of Charlie Dalton and Stephen Meeks.
Fctional characters who Remus seems to emulate in his confidence (from Charlie) and a sort of confidence that’s self-assured yet mild at the same time (a mix of the two) and that in itself makes you fall a little more for him.
It’s overwhelming- this attraction to him. It confuses you and has you tripping over words in your head, far less for if you voiced them and all that was heard were clunky excuses for sentences.
What makes your sudden bouts of silence obvious is the fact that your friends have caught onto you.
It’s not like it’s exceptionally hard to decipher either- you’re not really good at being subtle.
You suspect James and Sirius are taking bets on when it’ll all be too obvious for everyone to walk around it and you desperately hope that it takes months while simultaneously hoping it takes only weeks.
Remus notices the way your body freezes when you realise you’ve caught his attention in your storytelling. In his mind, it’s because you don’t like him.
The way you shrink down and suddenly go silent the moment his eyes set upon you, the way you remain quiet even though he sees the way the corners of your mouth twitch with something to say.
He thinks he’s put you off somehow, especially when the second he’s gone a little ways away to get a drink or get his lunch, you seem to perk right back up and dive into storytelling once more.
It bothers him so much he asks Sirius about it- a mistake in itself, because Sirius only pokes fun at his friend.
“If you can’t realise why she goes silent the moment you stare at her Lupin, I can’t help you.” Sirius walks off leaving Remus even more perplexed, moreso when he hears Sirius says, “How’s he so thick for someone doing so many higher classes?”
It bewilders Remus for weeks, your always sudden vows of silence and then your equally sudden broken vows.
You’re all at a house party when it comes to an almost end.
You’re dressed pretty like always, a skirt that hugs all the places Remus longs to touch and a top that shows a sliver of your stomach and Remus catches a glimpse of jewellery hanging in your navel.
Your ears have a pair of hanging bat earrings, and your necklace is your standard one- he’s sure he’s never seen you without it.
You’re smiling and laughing with Marlene and Mary as you walk in. Remus wants to figure out why you dislike him so, he desperately wants to change your sour opinion of him. He’s going to at least try to do so tonight, if you can stomach looking at him.
“C’mon losers,” James’ loud voice is unmistakable, “We’re playing seven minutes in heaven.”
Remus is only approaching when he hears your teasing,
“Are we taking a blast back to Year 9 Jamie?”
James nods, “Yeah we are, and would you look at that you and Lupin are up first.” You’re sure there’s an evil little grin on James’ face when you look up and find Remus standing there in his soft brown sweater and jeans.
You can smell a little of the cigarette he’d smoked before coming in, but mostly you smell his citrus, pepper and amber cologne.
It’s heady and you swear your brain gets a little drunk on it.
“Get going you two,” Sirius teases and you sigh standing.
Remus’ mind is reeling, wondering how he’s going to get back at Sirius and James and the rest of your friends that he knows are in on this too.
Out of ear shot of your friends as you both go to the nearest room, Remus says lowly, “You don’t have to come in. I’ll just tell them we talked.”
You look up at him, eyes wide and Remus takes your surprise as a moment to admire you up close. He counts three beauty marks near your right eye, another on your neck just under your chin, and one on your nose. He’s distracted by you for a good long while that he doesn’t register you’ve spoken till he sees you walk into the room and gesture for him to follow.
It’s tense, a silence neither of you are sure how to break.
You think Remus is the most gorgeous man to be placed on the Earth, and Remus thinks you find him repulsive.
You watch Remus climb onto the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles as his back presses against the headboard.
His casualness makes him look even more attractive and while you’re aware that you’re staring at him, you can’t make yourself stop.
‘Now or never,’ he thinks to himself before asking, “Have I offended you somehow?”
There it is, laid open and bare. The question hangs in the air, like the most tantalising yet foreign fruit you’ve ever seen.
“No?” It comes out like a question. One Remus takes as a chance to explain.
“It’s just that you’re always talking or telling a story with the others, and as soon as I’m near earshot you go silent and you can’t meet my eyes. So I’ve been thinking that maybe I’ve offended you, and I just wanted to say sorry for if I did- directly or indirectly.”
Remus’ attractiveness has been upped by a thousand- you’re sure all the love deities are having a laugh at your hopelessness.
You can’t meet his eyes now, even as you sit on the bed, so close to him that your biceps brush each other’s. “You haven’t offended me.”
Your voice is much softer than he’s ever heard it. Remus thinks this must be the softest you’ve ever spoken in your whole life.
“I haven’t?” he asks and you shake your head. Hazarding a glance at him, you find Remus leaning his shoulder down, his chin tucked as his eyes roam your frame.
“N-no,” your stutter gives you away slowly. “You’re just different from the others.” It’s not a clearer explanation, but the gears are turning in Remus’ head all the same and you can tell.
“Different how?” Remus doesn’t want to assume anything and that’s what causes the gears to come to a screeching halt.
You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. Remus has never seen you this unsure. Everything you do is with confidence and ease, like you were just made to walk, talk and move the way that you do. Like it was as easy as breathing.
Maybe it’s the way you take your time to consider your words, or the way you fiddle with your clothes or even the way your breathing changes as he leans just a bit closer that makes Remus smile a little.
“Will you look at me for a second, darling gwerthfawr?” The softness of his tone and the way his accent changes to something a little more melodic makes you more jelly-like than you usually are in his presence.
“Hm?” you hum and Remus smirks. Silvery slithers of scar tissue moving with his mouth and making him look wicked in a way that has you falling a little more in love with him.
“Why don’t you like looking or speaking to me?”
Remus doesn’t let you turn away, doesn’t let you tuck your cheek to your shoulder as you deliberate what you want to say. No, instead, the menace holds your chin and stares at you, holding your gaze and making your brain cloud even more as his cologne and attention wash over you.
“I like looking at you,” you admit shyly, the confession coming from your lips with hesitation. Like Remus will be repulsed by the fact that you like looking at him. “But you make me nervous.”
The words are suspended in the quiet of the room. All there is the muffled sounds of the party going on in the living room, and then yours and Remus’ breathing.
“I make you nervous?”
Sirius and James burst through the door, wide smiles that turn into shocked smirks at your positions.
“Well love birds, sorry but your seven minutes are up.” Remus staggers in letting your chin go, but when his fingers slacken, you leave the room, belly in knots in the almost wordy confession.
“So, how’d that go?” James asks him as you bend the corner- he’s sure that Lily and the other girls will be doing the same with you.
Remus flops on the bed, “Nothing that concerns you two gits.” His mind is racing with possibilities of finishing this conversation.
Sirius boos, “After all that planning to get you two in here and snogging each other’s faces off, that’s the thanks we get?” Walking out with James who’s shaking his head.
-
“But you make me nervous,” repeats in his head for days. He’s not dense by a mile, but Remus has a hard time figuring out what about him makes you nervous.
Sure he’s tall and a little serious, but he’s not as intimidating as he’d first thought Sirius was. Remus doesn’t want to turn to his friends, sure they’d tease him endlessly for being ‘thick,’ and then more than likely tell you and that would just make you even more nervous to look or speak to him at the very least.
What Remus does do, is consult the best person he knows that will give him impartial advice; books.
There’s always a book for any occasion, so he delves deep. Behavioural analysis books, books on people with social anxiety (which he doesn’t think you have because it’s just him that gets the selective mutism) and even at the end of it, he turns to romance novels. Something must stand out.
It comes to a head when Remus comes to the library when you’re busy typing away at your essay. You feel the presence, the warmth of his pepper and amber cologne as he pulls the seat out beside you.
Remus doesn’t say a word as he sits down. Instead, he pulls out his laptop and begins typing at the same essay prompt you’re working on.
You’re hyper aware of everything he’s doing- every breath, every sigh, every harsh backspace and enter.
Remus doesn’t seem to be half as affected as you are and it has you whispering, “What are you doing here, Remus?”
He hums, tapping his forefinger near the touchpad. He finishes his sentence and then turns to you. “Working on that essay due tomorrow.”
You frown, lips pulled downwards as you think of your next words. “You know what I mean, why are you sitting beside me?”
Remus sighs, head hanging off the back of the chair. “I want you to not be nervous around me anymore. I also want to know why I make you nervous.”
You swallow, mouth suddenly dry.
Remus turns to look at you and the amber lighting of the library makes his skin look sunkissed and supple. His honey and sage eyes blink owlishly at you, no sign of rushing you along for an answer.
That was something you had learnt while silently watching Remus. He’s always actually listening- not just listening to respond.
“Because,” you start, eyes darting all over his face in search of any insecurity in it. “You always seem so hyper focused on what it is I’m going to say next and it flusters me.”
Remus’ face morphs into a smile, his lazy expression from before melting away as his eyes warm to your embarrassed whisper.
“So it’s not dislike?” He asks, hands itching to tip your chin up like he had the other night.
“Are you going to make me say it out loud?”
“Poor girl,” he feels much more confident now. Now that he knows for sure that you don’t hate him and that you might actually like him as much as he likes you, he can be a little more flirty.
His hand reaches for your wrist, thumb running back and forth around your pulse.
You scowl, more than a little bashful to have exposed your feelings to Remus. He doesn’t mind.
No, Remus feels over the moon. Enough so that his hand moves from your wrist and his forefinger hooks under your chin so you’re making eye contact again.
“I like you too. Just as much,” it’s his turn for a whispered confession and you hope to all hell that he can’t feel the thundering of your pulse. “Maybe more.”
You feel your body buzz under his attention. Remus leans in closer, “Let me take you out after this? We can go somewhere quiet and have a proper ‘first’ conversation.”
2K notes · View notes
bunnyhugs77 · 2 months
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Angel Eyes
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𓆩♡𓆪Pairing: Patient! Jungkook x Reader
𓆩♡𓆪WC: 8.2k
𓆩♡𓆪Content Warning: hospital romance, mentions of birth, blizzard, car accidents, smthn abt soulamtes, ft Jin, medical emergencies, making out, jk is a free spirit, tattoos, rehabilitation, they're so cute, cafeteria dates, meet cute, weddings, sexual themes, comas, newborn baby, angsttt :(
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The double doors to the emergency room burst open with a team of paramedics meeting a team of nurses over the limp body that was being rushed in on a gurney.
"26-year-old male. One of many from the four-car pile-up on Highway 400. Blunt head trauma —shattered ribs, compound fractures in both legs. He's unconscious, showing premature signs of decline. We need to get him stabilized immediately."
"Prepare the operation room." One of the nurses orders and the chaos moves around the corner with the gurney.
A team of trauma surgeons and nurses worked frantically to stabilize him. He was quickly assessed for injuries, and diagnostic tests revealed the extent of the damage he had sustained
The man suffered from internal injuries, including a punctured lung and severe abdominal trauma. There was a point when doctors were sure he wouldn't make it but they were wrong.
After undergoing several surgeries in the first few days following the accident, including procedures to repair his fractured bones, remove damaged tissue, and stabilize his internal injuries he was beginning to show small signs of improvement.
However, it was only the beginning of a very long and hard journey for him.
𓆩♡𓆪 2 months later
"Where is she?" You stand up at the sight of your brother-in-law, Jin rushing into the waiting room of the labour and delivery wing. Face flushed and hair a bit frazzled. He'd obviously run here from the parking lot.
"Down the hall to your left. They're just running some tests and checking the baby." He pauses in his steps, letting it all sink in. Placing a hand on his chest as he tried to stabilize his breathing.
Taking the chance to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Everything is going to be okay, breathe." You encourage, taking tips from the Lamaze classes your sister had made the three of you take in preparation for this baby.
He smiles before making his way to his wife and out of sight.
Meanwhile, you stayed put in the waiting room as your sister made it very clear she did not want you in the room any time her vagina was out and you weren't going to argue.
Seeing that the doctors needed to check up on the baby once the two of you arrived no less than 15 minutes ago, you had already excused yourself to the hall.
Once you saw the familiar nurse you remember being assigned to your sister walk past you, you deemed it was safe enough to return to her room. Knocking first with your hand over your eyes.
There was soft laughter, "It's been put away, you can open your eyes." Eunji says, allowing you to lower your palm from your gaze to see Seokjin sitting on a chair nestled near Eunji's bedside.
"Wow, they've got you hooked up like a TV." You snort, pointing to the IV drip, pulse oximeter, and various other tubes taped to her arm.
Shaking her head at your typical Y/n-Antics but refusing to acknowledge your joke any further. "What did the nurse say?" Jin asks, almost anxiously, taking her hand in his.
"The baby is fine, she's healthy, but I'm a long way from giving birth. Apparently-" Eunji pauses, her eyes squeezing shut just as they did back at your place when the two of you discovered she'd been having contractions.
Taking deep breaths she opens her eyes and resumes speaking as if it never happened, "Apparently I'm only one centimeter dilated. I'm already tired of this place." She pouts sadly while Jin gently moves a stray hair from out of her face.
You sighed internally, hoping that one day you'd find that.
"I'm just glad you guys made it here safely. The roads are getting worse with that blizzard coming in tonight." Jin shares which prompts you to check your phone while the couple talks about what a normal couple would discuss at a time like this.
Jin was right. There in fact was a blizzard heading your way and it was nasty. Up to six feet of snow in some regions and harsh winds. It was practically impossible to see the road through all the flurries on your way here.
It was unsafe for anyone to be driving at a time like this hence why Eunji had already begged your parents to stay home until the roads were safe. No matter how much she knew your parents wanted to be present for the birth of their first grandchild it was just too dangerous.
This winter was packed with a punch this year. You can't forget the first major storm of the season about two months ago that blindsided everyone.
The severity of the storm dawns on you as you remember driving past a nasty collision on the highway on your way home from work.
You could only hope that this would be the end of the strenuous icy season and that spring would be just around the corner. You were looking forward to the blossoming season of spring but not as much as you were looking forward to holding your niece in your arms in just a few short hours.
𓆩♡𓆪
Clearly, you and your niece weren't on the same page.
It's been 4 hours and the hospital was on lockdown, any visitors in the building were forbidden from leaving due to the severity of the storm outside. Honestly, some part of you believed you would have been able to hold your niece and go home all in the last three hours, but oh how you were wrong.
"What do you mean you're only 3 centimetres along?" You say, exhausted from waiting. "Oh, I'm sorry Y/n, are you tired? How inconsiderate of me!" She exclaims, clearly annoyed with you.
You dropped your shoulders, you deserved that. Eunji had been battling her contractions restlessly for hours on end, you couldn't imagine how she felt.
"Do you want me to get you anything?" She shakes her head while Jin returns with a full cup of ice for her to chew on. Your stomach rumbles, and not quietly.
"You should go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat. I'll stay with Eunji." Jin offers and you nod, deciding it was time for a break anyway.
With your bag slung over your shoulder, you stood in the café line, unsure what to get before deciding to get a typical iced coffee and a turkey sandwich.
Once it came time to find a spot, your eyes were scanning every nook and cranny of the filled cafeteria due to the overwhelming number of people trapped in this building just as you were.
Finally, you found one available spot, at an occupied table. "Is anyone sitting here?" You ask the man who was enjoying his own coffee. "It's all yours," He smiles and you reciprocate it as you take a seat.
Paying him no mind as you bite into your meal and pull out the book you've been reading over the last few weeks.
"The String of Fate," The man across from you mumbles as he reads the title of your book causing your eyes to flicker to his. "What's it about?" You close the book almost too eagerly.
"Do you believe in soulmates?" He blinks at you.
"Y'know, like two people that are destined to be together no matter the time or place." His brow arches. "Not a chance." You frown, "Well, basically this book explains the concept of soulmates and how they're connected by this invisible string between them that will always guide them back to each other. No matter the time or place."
He sighs heavily, head now resting on his hand. "I'm gonna take a shot in the dark here and assume that you believe in soulmates?"
"What's there not to believe? It makes total sense-" You ask, about to take your first bite of your sandwich. "I wouldn't eat that if I were you," He says quickly, and you close your mouth, placing the sandwich back down.
"Why not?" He simply stares at you, "Trust me. I've been here long enough to know." You nod slowly, "You must visit a lot."
With a shrug of his shoulders, he finishes the last of his coffee, "Something like that." He mumbles.
Your stomach reminds you of the hunger you'd just permitted to exist longer all in the name of this handsome stranger you'd just met. "So what can I eat here?"
He grins and your stomach twists.
"Follow me." You pack up your stuff and stand. Unable to process your thoughts once the man moves away from the table in his wheelchair.
"Oh c'mon, don't give me that look." He sighs.
"What look?" You counter, genuinely confused.
"That look of 'oh my gosh, he's in a wheelchair. Now everything is different.'" He says in a slightly raised tone.
"First of all, I didn't think that at all. I was just shocked." He looked almost deflated until you spoke up, "So are we still getting jello or what?" He smiles, leading the way.
-
"Hey! Hey! Mister Lightning McQueen, do you mind slowing down a bit? Or at least tell me your name so I don't have to keep yelling mister." You pant, finally catching up to him at the end of the hall.
"Sorry." He flushes a light pink before a quick clearing of his throat, "I'm Jungkook." He stretches his hand and you shake it gently, "Y/n." You say, the two of you hold hands a little longer than necessary before a visitor attempts to get by and you pull your hand away first.
Fast forward to the two of you sitting on the chairs in god knows which wing of the hospital, the building was so damn big. Licking the spoons of your delicious cherry jello as you were both facing the window that looked out into the midnight sky.
"So what brings you here tonight?" He asks as he scoops around his cup for another spoonful. "My sister is giving birth. At least that's what I thought was supposed to happen but the baby doesn't want to come yet." He laughs, "That's amazing. Not the part about the baby holding your sister's womb hostage but- you know what I'm trying to say."
Unable to control your laughter at his bizarre wording, "Yeah, I get it." A silence falls between the two of you, sitting on your shoulders. You wanted to say something but you weren't sure- "It's okay, Y/n. You can ask." He speaks without even looking at you. Focused on getting his next spoon of jello.
"How did you end up here?" You ask and Jungkook begins the age-old story. He was coming home from work during that crazy storm 2 months ago. He said he didn't remember much from the actual accident, one second he's in his lane and the next there's an eighteen-wheeler sliding right into him and dragging two others in with him.
"I don't even remember being rushed in here, I just remember waking up 3 days later and the doctors telling me I was lucky to be alive. Telling me I had basically injured every bone I had. Head trauma, shattered ribs, a punctured lung, fractured both my legs- and the list goes on."
Your jaw falls open. Hand raising to cover your mouth for two reasons.
"You really are lucky to be alive."
It seems that Jungkook disagrees, "Yet I don't feel all that lucky. I wake up to the same faces, getting poked at and pricked every hour. Going to rehab every other day, my body hurts constantly. I can't even count how many painkillers and antibiotics I take every morning." You frown.
"I'm grateful to be making progress of course, but sometimes It feels like the world is passing me by while I'm standing still-- or sitting, for that matter.." You'd never connected to anything more.
"I totally understand. Under different circumstances of course, but I think I get what you mean. Ever since I was 7 I'd had this perfect vision of how my life should be by the time I was 25. A nice house, with a loving husband and maybe a baby on the way with my six-figure paying job but here I am, 26, sitting in a waiting room, single, waiting for my sister to have a baby so that I can go home to my office job that sure as hell doesn't pay enough for a nice house."
Your story provokes a soft chuckle to come rumbling from Jungkook's chest and you swat at him. "And it's like, you want to take steps forward but it's almost like you can't because everything is out of your control. The most decisive factor of a good life is controlled by everyone but you. It sucks." Jungkook expands on your thoughts further and you'd never felt so seen before.
"I-" You begin but the PA system begins to blare someone's voice as they make an announcement.
"Code Yellow. Code Yellow." Jungkook's vision darts to his wristwatch. "Shit. It's been an hour already?" You weren't following, "What's going on?" Jungkook begins to roll back, tossing away his garbage in the bin while you stand and do the same.
"Code yellow is just their dramatic way of declaring a patient is missing. Although-" His eyes fly past you and to whoever was behind you, it was a furious nurse. "Jeon Jungkook." She says and he groans, "I know- I know."
Jungkook hardly got to speak before he was being pushed away back to wherever his room was. "I hope your sister has a safe delivery." You stand still in the middle of the hall as you watch Jungkook get whisked out of sight.
Unable to stop thinking about how disappointed he looked once that nurse appeared. Clearly, he didn't want to go back. You couldn't shake what he told you, about seeing the same people every day, following the same painful routine.
You wondered if he had any family that visited him.
Speaking of which, it was time for you to return to your own.
𓆩♡𓆪
7 hours later you were finally holding the most perfect baby girl in your arms. "She's beautiful, Eunji," you say tearfully, staring at the adorable infant who was just so tiny in your arms.
"I can't believe I'm holding your baby right now." You say to no one in particular while Seokjin stands behind you looking down at the baby, he looks like he's still in awe himself.
Carefully passing her back into your sister's tired arms. You had the honour of taking their first family photo. With Seokjin's eyes full of love and your sister displaying the happiest smile you'd ever seen.
"She's perfect." You hear him whisper with a kiss to Eunji's forehead and your heart just about melts at the heartwarming sight.
𓆩♡𓆪 7 days later
The moment that you left that hospital that morning you felt almost... sad? Like you had a happiness hangover. You were truly overjoyed, you finally got to meet your niece and you met Jungkook who left an unanticipated imprint on your brain.
You tapped your nails against the desk in your cubicle, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as your eyes glanced at the time at the bottom of the computer screen.
Your break was in 20 minutes, you had an hour to do whatever and sure, you could spend it here continuing your work so that you could go home earlier...but the hospital is nearby...
No more than a 10-minute drive.. maybe you could drop by? Just for a little?
You didn't leave yourself much time to debate it as you were already marching out of the office the moment the clock hit 12. You'd decided to pick up some flowers from the gift shop on your way up.
Following the receptionist's instructions that she gave you to locate his room with a nervous click of your heels with each step. What if he didn't want to see you? Does he even remember you?
You saw him through the glass window briefly and adjusted yourself to an angle where he couldn't see you. He was just laying there. Staring up at the ceiling, but he sat up once a nurse walked in.
It seemed that she was doing some routine checkups before pricking him with a needle of some kind. You'd always been the type to squirm with needles yet he was unfazed, it was like he couldn't even feel it.
Once she left she passed you with a small smile. Slowly you walk to the door and his gaze slowly drags towards you. His eyes smile before his lips, and he sits up.
"Y/n!" He says with such a joyful tone, you would never expect the voice to belong to someone sitting in a hospital bed. "Hi," You say, unsure of what to do with the flowers.
"Don't tell me you're still waiting for your sister to give birth." He says with a little sarcasm and you laugh with a shake of your head. "No, little miss Seol-a came fashionably late."
"As in 'snow child'? That's a perfect name." You agree. Watching him as his gaze drops to your arms. "Oh- These are for you." Bringing the small bouquet of tiger lilies to him, he accepts it gratefully.
"Thank you-- Really, you didn't have to. You visiting me is more than enough of a gift, and they're Tiger Lilies, too. Fun fact, that's actually my birth flower." It was like a lightbulb had gone off in your head but you ignored it.
Maybe that was just a coincidence, but you didn't like that word. You preferred to use something much stronger, that starts with an 'F', and ends with an 'ate'.
"Pull up a chair, please. I don't want to be the only one sitting." He insists, gesturing to the chair near the wall and you bring it a bit closer.
Letting out a soft sigh of relief once you were off your feet, "God, I hate heels." You mutter, "I'm guessing you have to wear them for that magical job of yours," Your face turns sour, "Magic isn't the word I'd use to describe it,"
Just like that the two of you fell down a rabbit hole of conversation, exchanging work experiences and even phone numbers at one point.
"So tell me, Y/n. In a perfect world, if you could just drop everything, what would you do?" You pretended to give it thought as if you hadn't known for the last decade. "I'd want to open a hair salon... Is that crazy? I don't think I've ever actually said that out loud before."
"What's stopping you?" You laugh, a little too hard, thinking of the dozens of reasons why it wasn't practical and way too impulsive but the longer you looked at his neutral expression you began to reflect on the reasons.
And they all came back to the same root, "What if I fail?" He shrugs, "You can't fail unless you give up." You couldn't believe you were actually considering this. Shaking your head dramatically, clearing your brain.
"You're such a bad influence, y'know? I can't believe you really almost made me do that." His bunny-like smile is on display when he speaks, "That wasn't me, that was your instinct. For a brief second, you just listened to your heart."
Woah.
"Wanna see something cool?" His hand raises and gestures to his lower body, and you watch as the blankets begin to stretch over the small peak that began to form under the covers as he bends his left knee slightly.
"Jungkook! That's incredible." You gasped, eyes wide and you weren't sure what came over you, but before you knew it you'd taken him in your arms.
His body was still a bit weak but his arms responded almost immediately. Holding you still for the short duration of the hug before you pulled away.
"Are you okay- I'm sorry, did I hurt you-" A small panic consumes you as Jungkook's eyes tint a faint red and well with tears. "No, no. You didn't do anything wrong. It's just been so long since someone's been so happy for me."
His words weighed down in your chest like a pile of bricks. "Does no one visit you?"
"All my friends and family came to visit right after the accident. Then it was just my best friends and my parents who came a few times a week. Soon people don't have time to visit someone who makes such little progress every day."
He continues to explain, "But I don't hold it against them. It's a time commitment. The real world is more demanding than I am and I just can't wait for the day I get to meet them out there."
Gently placing your hand on top of his, "You're gonna be out of here before you know it-" A familiar ringer goes off in your bag. You pull out your phone and stop the alarm. "Well, my break ends soon." You stand and you tell yourself that you're imagining the small frown peels over his lips.
Putting the chair back where you found it you walk to the door. "Bye Jungkook, it was good to see you again." With that, you walk away and Jungkook is left in despair. That was it? It's over?
You were just gonna walk into his room and bless him with the most revitalizing conversation he's ever had and you're leaving?
Before he gets the chance to deflate into his pillows your head pops back into the doorframe, "See you tomorrow." You wink and vanish once again. Knowing that you'd given him a little wave of sadness at first.
His shoulders shake with laughter, relieved.
𓆩♡𓆪
Staying true to your word, you in fact did go back to visit him the next day, except you went after your shift since 40 minutes simply wasn't enough time.
For the first few weeks of your daily visits, Jungkook was afraid that one day you would stop coming and he wouldn't see you again, but once three months had passed, there was no doubt in his mind he would walk out of this hospital without you by his side.
You'd even met his parents once, by accident of course. You were just leaving when they'd been walking in and of course, they had no idea who you were.
Telling them about how the two of you met was quite entertaining, Accidentally mentioning the part where Jungkook had been called a missing patient which earned him a soft pinch to his arm from his mother.
But you'll never forget the words his mother whispered in your ear as she hugged you. "Thank you for loving my son." Your cheeks flushed and you stuttered, trying to clarify things but she didn't want to hear it.
"It's okay, I know." She says with the most subtle of winks before walking off with her husband who shook your hand graciously.
Not every day was full of laughs and feasts that you'd bring him from the outside world, there were definitely down days. Days when the pain would call for a stronger dose of his medications which left him burnt out and groggy.
But there were also good days like today. You had the honour of helping Jungkook take some of his first steps for a few feet before being right behind him with the wheelchair.
You weren't able to stop your tears while Jungkook apologized to the physical therapist for your constant crying. You cried every time you saw him move on his own, but he thinks it's cute.
It's evident how much you care about him. By now your entire family knew about your blossomed friendship, and it seems he was all you could talk about. He could only hope that you knew how much he cared about you.
He would love to surprise you at work one day with lunch or take you to your favourite places. Alas, that was among the list of things he unfortunately couldn't control but promised to do once he got out.
He had a section of notes dedicated to you and all the places he would take you, it's what he always hid against his chest anytime you tried peaking.
-
"You won't believe what I just did!" Those are the first words that escape your mouth in the most dramatic of ways as you practically burst into his room.
He jolts, his book now falling forgotten from his fingers, you'd startled him and you apologized. You weren't usually here at noon. So he welcomes your explanation with a warm smile and curious eyes.
"So I went to work this morning, and they called us all in for a meeting. I was expecting another spontaneous workshop about professional behaviour or something. They drop this huge bomb on us that the company is downsizing so they're laying off a third of the company and basically cutting everyone's salary in half." It all comes out in a single breath, so you give yourself some time to breathe.
Jungkook wasn't following, "This sounds like... bad news? Am I missing something? Why do you look so happy?"
"Because I quit my job. I've been thinking about what you said for a while now, about following my heart, and I think I've always been waiting for some kind of sign or opportunity to just go for it, so today was the day." Now that you'd finally gotten the jitters out, you pulled up a chair.
"I know it's crazy, I don't know what I was thinking, but I just got off the phone with one of the property managers of those empty studios downtown and it was all so exciting and I don't even know where I'm going to get the money but I think I can-"
Jungkook finally silenced you with his lips.
He kissed you.
His lips were soft as they worked against yours. You could feel him smile as the kiss deepened. You moved out of your chair to the bed without breaking contact. Pulling away briefly for air but resuming as though you couldn't be apart for more than a second.
You weren't sure when you'd ended up on top of him with Jungkook on his back and your hips grinding down onto his softly, still a bit cautious.
"You have-" He kisses down your neck, peppering kisses between his words, "-No idea-" His lips kissing right below your ear, "-How long I've wanted to kiss you." His teeth gently nibble on the skin of your ear causing a whine to escape your lips.
Suddenly there was a fast beeping and it was only getting faster.
A nurse walks in and you just about throw yourself off of Jungkook and onto the ground. "What's going on in here? Your heart rate was way too fast, Mr. Jeon." He bites his lip nervously while you get yourself on your feet.
"Sorry, Nurse Lynn. I was just trying some new exercises and I guess I got a bit carried away." He says the last part with a lustful look in his eye when he glances towards you.
Once she left you let your hand cover your mouth in pure shock, laughing uncontrollably. "Oh my god, I can't believe that just happened." Jungkook throws his head back onto the pillows with a heavy breath.
"Those nurses can't let me have shit in here. I can't even rub one out in the shower without them barging in." Your jaw drops, "It's happened more times than I'd like to speak about." The shame that seems to swallow him up makes you laugh even harder.
-
"How's the salon going?" He's the first to ask you once you walk out of the bathroom and your shoulders drop. Taking a seat beside him on the bed, "It's a lot harder than I thought it would be. My contractor is being a total pain in the ass, but at least it's starting to come together, look-"
You swipe through the photos of the empty studio that was now painted. "I can't wait to see it." He says, and you look away from the screen. Focusing on his beautiful brown eyes. "Me too." He steals a sweet kiss from you before resuming his swipe through your phone with a cheeky grin.
For the first time, you noticed how empty his left arm was compared to his right. His right arm was covered in tattoos that the two of you had spent nearly an hour talking about once, while his left arm was blank.
"Why don't you have any tattoos on your left arm?" He places down your phone, making eye contact with you once again. "I wanna save it for something special, something meaningful, like the Batman symbol." His nerdy remark makes you snort.
𓆩♡𓆪
"Hi Jungko-Oh." This was unusual.
Of all the times you'd visited Jungkook, there was probably only one other time where you'd caught him sleeping, although that was a late night. It was only sometime around 3 in the afternoon.
You didn't want to disturb him, so you left him a little sticky note for him to read when he wakes up. You didn't want him to think that you never came.
The following day the two of you were having a bit of a hard time getting Jungkook out of bed. "I thought you wanted to do some more walking?" You offer, standing with his walker but he laid back unmotivated.
"Not today, maybe another day. I'm just a bit tired." He mumbles and you nod, "Oh. Okay." But your heart wasn't settled, something was wrong.
The week continued with his slow responses and fatigue. "Are you okay?" He hums, his eyes shutting tight as he grunts softly. "Yeah, just got a bit of a headache, that's all. I'll be better by tomorrow." He reassures you, and you insist on getting him some water.
"Nurse Lynn." You call out for the Nurse as you cross paths as you return from refilling Jungkook's water bottle. She stops and begins to approach you. "Jungkook has been acting a bit off lately. He's been really tired and he says he has a headache and I just want to know if anything is going on."
You can see that she really begins to think about anything it could be. You follow her as she goes off to check his charts. Looking through the window, Jungkook had already fallen asleep.
"His numbers seem to be fine, but we'll keep a close eye on them tonight and run some tests in the morning." Leaving you with a reassuring hand on your shoulder, but you still didn't feel any better.
You went home to your parents' house. You'd moved back home after impulsively quitting your job since there was no way you'd be able to afford your old apartment anymore. Besides, this arrangement made the most sense.
Now you were able to save your money and focus on your salon. The salon Jungkook had inspired you to open, god you couldn't stop thinking about him. Something felt off.
"Y/n?" Your dad snaps his fingers in front of you, finally catching your attention. "Sorry- What?"
"Your mom and I were wondering if you'd be joining us for dinner or if you already ate." You shake your head slowly, "It's okay, I'm not hungry."
"Is everything okay?'' Your stretches her neck from where she sat on the couch. "I don't know. Jungkook's been acting off lately and I just don't know if everything is okay." Anyone who heard you could hear the worry that wavered in your tone. You wanted nothing more than for him to be okay.
"Oh, honey." Your parents hugged you and for a moment you felt like everything was going to be okay.
Until it wasn't.
-
It was around 2 in the morning when you'd gotten a call from Jungkook's mom.
He'd gone into a coma.
You didn't find yourself to be a religious person yet you found yourself praying to any god in the sky who was listening as you drove to the hospital that he would be okay.
Running through the halls, letting out careless apologies to those you nearly bumped into as you did so. "What happened?!" You say frantically, his mother was in no state to speak, her eyes were bloodshot and her lips quivered whenever she tried to speak.
Instead, his father took on the role to tell you, "The doctors said there were unforeseen complications from his accident. There was some inflammation in his brain that went undetected and was applying pressure to his brain stem which is why he was experiencing those headaches and fatigue. They've done all they can to reduce the swelling, but there's no guarantee he'll-"
His dad struggles to finish his sentence, choking up a bit himself at the possibility of Jungkook never waking up. "C-Can I see him?" You swallow back your tears and that sore feeling in your throat as you walk in slowly.
You didn't want to cry, but the moment you saw him hooked up to all those machines, the same ones he hated so much, the way his body lay so still, it broke you.
Your cries came out more as wails than anything else, you couldn't say anything but his name. You weren't just crying, you were begging, pleading with the gods to spare him.
"Y/n-" You hear his dad's voice behind you, catching you in his arms just as you fall to your knees. He could have never anticipated a reaction quite like this one. It seems he underestimated how much Jungkook meant to you.
Now he knows.
All his friends and family knew.
As they trickled in and out of Jungkook's hospital room over the following weeks they would see you sitting by his side, the same way you did all the days before.
His mom liked to say you were there more than Jungkook was. She knew he was lucky, he'd found something special with you. A kind of love that was rare to come across these days.
You spent every waking moment beside him until visiting hours were over, and would be back the next morning the moment they begin. Your parents told you to keep yourself busy with your salon and you tried, but how could you when everything inside reminded you of him?
Today was a quiet day, with no visitors or flowers for you to find space for as his room was filled. You focused on reading to him. You'd been told that hearing familiar voices can help to stimulate brain activity and you were willing to do anything.
"As Batman ran through the dark streets of Gotham-" You chuckled to yourself, unable to take the story seriously.
According to his parents, this was his favourite comic book growing up, and you'd been reading it to him for the last few days, and yet you still weren't interested in DC.
You rummaged through the bag of books you had on the side, your fingertips grasped the familiar cover that started it all. "The String of Fate" You mumble, a soft smile as the title takes you back to the night you met.
Back then he was nothing more than an opinionated patient on the loose, and now, he was everything.
You opened the book, going back to the page you'd bookmarked as a favourite. Deciding to read it out loud for the sake of Jungkook hearing your voice.
"In the garden of destiny, soulmates blossom, each petal a reflection of the other's beauty, each leaf a testament to their shared growth. Together, they tend to the soil of their dreams, nurturing them with the water of their love, as they chase the sunsets of tomorrow, hand in hand, forever intertwined."
Your voice began to shake halfway through, and your tears landed on every other word. You closed the book, placing it back in the bag so that you could take Jungkook's hands in yours.
"Please," You whispered, "I love you."
It was no surprise to anyone. You had nothing but love for the man who changed your world for the better. He had no idea how much space he takes up in your head, your heart. It's his, it belongs to him.
"Can we come in?" There are soft knocks on the door and you're pleasantly surprised to see Jin and your sister, assuming the baby was with your parents.
"Thank you for coming," You hug them both, "If there's someone important enough that you went MIA during my labour, then I have to meet him." Eunji says jokingly and you smile sadly, "I just wish you got to meet under better circumstances."
The days turned to night then day once again, and the pattern continued endlessly for the following month. It just continued to repeat in this painful process of dwindling hope.
Nothing could have prepared you for the devastating conversation with the doctor this morning.
"Please understand, during this difficult time, we have carefully monitored Jungkook's minimal brain activity. Given the duration of his coma and after our intensive examination of his condition, if there were indications for a potential recovery leading to him waking up, we would have observed signs by now. I know this news is incredibly challenging to hear but-"
His mother wept.
"We're so sorry." The doctor says as if it was rehearsed, you couldn't imagine how many times he'd had to give such gut-wrenching news to other families.
You listened with a broken heart, unable to cry. You were all out of tears. You'd cried and cried your heart out all month, you couldn't bear the thought of it all being for such a tragic conclusion.
-
That was almost a week ago, you'd remained by Jungkook's side regardless. Never leaving, not moving.
"Y/n, Honey. You've been here all day, when's the last time you ate something, hm?" His mom gently tilted your chin upwards, you looked pale in colour and your eyes were dull with sorrow.
"I don't know, Tuesday maybe?"
It's Thursday night.
"Go." She orders, and you know that tone. She wasn't willing to negotiate this with you. She'd begun to care for you like a daughter of her own, and as much as she respected and adored your dedication to her son, it was just as important that you were healthy.
Still following Jungkook's advice, you avoided most of the shops in the cafeteria except for a select few that he deemed sanitary. Sitting at one of the tables by yourself, you poked at your food, not all that hungry but you took bites anyway.
Taking a long sip from your water bottle you ignored the buzzing from your phone. You're sure it's just the contractors giving you a hard time again. You were set to open in a few months from now and you'd never felt more grateful for your mom stepping in to help while you were.. away.
Your phone buzzes once more, you finally check the messages.
Ever since that night, every time Mrs. Jeon messaged you, it left you with a pit in your stomach, quite like the one in your stomach right now.
She was calling you back to Jungkook's room immediately.
Completely abandoning your half-eaten meal on the table as you rushed back up to the room you'd begun to know like the back of your hand.
There his parents were, teary-eyed as they sat outside his room, making calls and texting loved ones. Soon you saw a team of nurses walking out of his room with some medical technology that you're sure had very complicated names and--
Oh no.
Your brain was putting the pieces together. What was once a pit had evolved into a full-fledged sinkhole. Your hands were shaking as you walked into the room, eyes landing on his body, not expecting to meet his familiar brown orbs.
They blinked at you slowly. Just like the first time you'd visited, they smiled before his lips did. "There she is," His voice was weak, understandably but it still had that softness to it.
Your body was overwhelmed and unable to make any coherent sounds. You were standing still as a statue. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to stop your lips from quivering but you couldn't stop it.
Your breathing became shallow and the sound of your heart drumming in your ears seemed much louder than it did a minute ago. You felt like your eyes were playing tricks on you.
"Is it-" Your voice airy and broken, not wanting this to be a dream. You so desperately needed this to be real. He nods slowly with a grin, "It's me." Just when you thought you had no more tears left, there were more spilling down your cheeks.
Finally picking up your feet and walking over to him with broken sobs, meeting him at the side of the bed. On your knees with his arms around you while you held him in yours. "I thought I lost you." You swat him with teary eyes and a small laugh.
"You can never lose me, Y/n, and I want to make sure of that." He says, and your head tilts instinctively. "What do you mean?"
"Marry me."
Eyes wide and your mouth nearly kissing the floor.
"You can't be serious," Oh how you hoped he was serious.
"You've been by my side every step of the way. When I walk through those hospital doors one last time, I want to be beside the woman I love. Let me spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you've made me." Now he was the one getting misty eyes.
Your mouth struggled to keep up with the eager nodding of your head. "Yes." Holding his face in your hands and kissing him like you'd longed to do for weeks.
Finally.
"Wait- You don't have a ring," Jungkook leans slightly for the box of band-aids on the side table. "Jungkook, I don't need-'' Your efforts go in vain as he shushes you kindly, taping the band-aid around your ring finer.
"It's symbolic for now until I can get you the real thing."
-
Nothing could have prepared you for the busy year ahead of you. Between visiting Jungkook, opening a salon and planning a wedding things were beginning to get chaotic but it all seemed to fade in importance once Jungkook finally got to go home.
And you were right, he was home just in time for Thanksgiving, and he had a lot to be thankful for. He made that clear during his speech at your parents' annual Thanksgiving dinner.
The fact he was able to stand for it was reason enough. Although he wasn't able to walk far distances, he was improving every day, and it just warmed your heart.
Your speech wasn't nearly as tear-jerking as Jungkook's was, but you still had a lot to be grateful for. Just looking around the table from where you stood, smiling at your parents, your sister with Jin and Seol-a, Jungkook's parents, and Jungkook, of course.
Everything you ever wanted was right in front of you.
Keeping your speech short and sweet, "And I know she's grateful for that huge rock on her finger." Eunji whispers loudly causing the table to erupt in a fit of giggles, the tips of your ears turn red as you smile shyly.
From Thanksgiving to the opening day of your Salon. Staring up to look at your name written out in a cursive font across the top of the building you were in awe. "Pinch me," you mutter sarcastically, not expecting Jungkook to actually pinch you.
With a pout you rubbed the pink mark he left on your arm as the two of you walked into the moderately busy salon. Your mom had sent out flyers and emails about the opening day all season.
You wouldn't have been able to do it without her.
"I'm so proud of you," Jungkook whispers and you turn to face him with the look of a puppy. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you," He shakes his head, "I didn't do anything. This was all you, all you had to do was listen to your heart." Giving him one of those upside-down smiles you wrap your arms around him, talking into his chest.
"I can't wait to marry you."
Before you knew it, the wait was over.
Today is the day. 
You could only stress about one day so much, you'd gone over every last detail down to the very inch and you were sure it was going to be perfect, after all, you'd had it all planned out in your head since you were 7 and Jungkook was more than happy oblige, 'as long as I get to marry you', he would say.
Your wedding was beautiful, it left your guests breathless the moment they entered the venue and the ceremony hadn't even begun yet.
Your wedding had its own special and heartfelt twist to it. Instead of Jungkook standing ready at the altar, he had the honour of picking a heartfelt song to walk down the aisle to with no arm crutches or wheelchair to support him. Nothing but his parents on either side holding one of his arms.
Some of the audience cheered while some let their tears fall quietly, knowing how far Jungkook had come to get to this point. Once he made it to the front, his best man, Jimin, handed him his arm crutches once again.
Soon the rest of the bridal party had made their way down the aisle, prompting the audience to stand. All heads turned to the grand double doors that soon opened as a romantic instrumental of "Look After You" began to play.
Jungkook could hardly see you from the distance he was standing but just knowing that you were walking towards him had him choking up already.
By the time he really could see you, he couldn't. His eyes are cloudy with tears until Jimin hands him his pocket square to wipe his eyes. Blinking the rest of his tears away, he smiles at you.
You looked beautiful.
Like God's most perfect creation sent down from heaven. There you were, smiling back at him with those angel eyes of yours. It would be a lie to say you didn't want to cry but the last thing you wanted was to ruin your makeup.
However, you weren't so strong when it came time to listen to Jungkook's vows after just finishing yours.
"You once asked me if I believed in soulmates, and I remember saying it was a load of crap. I had no idea they were sitting right in front of me. Your unconditional and unchanging demonstration of love has completely changed me from the inside out. Through you, I breathe again, and for you, my heart beats. Today, I give you more than just my word. I give you mind, I give you my soul, my everything. I pray from this day forward we will chase the sunsets of tomorrow, hand in hand, forever."
The last part he recites from the passage of your book you'd read to him while he was still unconscious. Your makeup is now a victim to the stream of hot, salty tears that flowed from your eyes, "You heard me." You say just loud enough for only him to hear you. He smiles. "I heard you."
With no more tears and the unravelling of a touching ceremony,
"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
This was it. The moment Jungkook had been anticipating for months. Unclipping himself from the crutches around his arms, he hands them to Jimin.
He stretches out his arms dramatically, pretending to crack his neck.
Carefully taking your face in his hands, knowing how important it was to you that he didn't smudge anything, but your lipstick was going to need some reapplication after the way he pivoted and swooped you down for the most passionate of kisses.
The kind where your leg raises in the air while the photographer gets the money shot, capturing the bright smiles all around.
As if it was possible, the reception was even better than the ceremony. The toasts were both funny and touching. All eyes were on the happy couple who sat at their special table on the elevated platform for all to see.
Unable to hear what was being said but they could only assume it was something heartfelt based on the way your hands had clasped over your mouth.
Jungkook had just rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, showing you a new tattoo that you'd never seen. It was a delicate dark vine that wrapped around his forearm, with blossoming flowers, encircling the words 'Garden of Destiny', just like from your book.
"Are those-" You point to the types of flowers, "Tiger Lilies and Cosmos, your birth flower? Yeah." You pout, "Please don't cry, you'll be so upset if you ruin your makeup." He gently moves a loose strand of your hair from your face with the same hand you'd just been examining, and that's when it hits you.
"It's on your left arm." He grins,
"Of course it is."
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𓆩♡𓆪This was only supposed to be 900 words. oops. 𓆩♡𓆪
𓆩♡𓆪 mentions and reblogs are always appreciated <3
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sunghoonnsupremacy · 2 months
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✮ DRUNK HABITS.
- bff!yang jungwon x bff!reader
- genre : a little bit of smut
- warnings : making out, fingering, mentions of drinking, alot of cussing and dirtytalk, reader is reffered to as slut & good girl.
- wordcount : 591
- a/n : this wasn't supposed to get so long but i was horny and tired so here we are (wrote this under 20 minutes, not proofread)
jungwons lips slide over yours for the tenth time the past minute as the light smell of grape flavoured soju lingers in both of your breaths. his hand slowly leaves your thigh, moving towards your clothed core. your breath hitches in  your throat, taking a break from kissing him. "can i?" his eyes don't leave yours when his hand begins caressing your upper thigh. you nod, too scared your voice will betray you. he clicks his tongue and pinches your thigh softly, receiving a whimper from you.
he holds you by your waist, bringing you to sit on his lap as he whispers in your ear. "words, y/n. tell me you want this." you mentally curse at yourself for falling apart so easily but you find the courage to reply. "please.. wonie. I want it." muttering a praise, jungwons lips find yours again as right his index and middle finger circle your clit through your panties that are exposed by your short mini skirt. you try to kiss back but with the pressure on your bundle of nerves, it's hard.
his fingers slide your panties to the side and rub against your opening, collecting the layer of slick covering it. you bite your lip in order to conceal your moans when he slowly presses one of his fingers inside and lays you down on the couch, hovering over you. his eyes bore into yours when his finger reaches deep inside your cunt. "think you can take another one, baby?"
you nod but he immediately slows his pace, sighing. "use your fucking words or this won't continue." feeling you clench at his dirty talk, he chuckles and continues his torturingly slow pace. "I-I can take it. please just- let me cum." jungwon smirks and adds his middle finger inside you, speeding up.
you can already hear the wet noises coming from your cunt, making you moan even louder. he adds a finger without informing you, erupting a loud moan from your throat. "fuck- wonie!" he slams them inside repeatedly, his dick getting hard at your constant clenching around his slim fingers. seeing you're close to your orgasm, he begins rubbing your clit with his thumb. you yelp, coming undone on his fingers. jungwon keeps going till your legs shake- your cum coating his fingers. he pulls them out after a few minutes, groaning at the amount of cum.
"didn't think you were such a slut, y/n. letting your own bestfriend finger fuck you while drunk?" he scoffs, gripping you by your chin and forcing you to open your mouth, slamming his fingers inside. "taste so good, right? might have to stuff my fingers inside you more often." you slurp up all your juices, looking up at him with a fucked out look in your eyes. jungwon removes his fingers when he feels they're all clean and pats your cheek softly.
"good girl." you could practically feel yourself getting wet at that- or was it just the soju? he wipes you clean with a tissue and lays down beside you, wrapping a arm around your waist and laying you on top of him. "I'll give you head if you buy me food next time." you let out a breathy sigh, laying your head on his chest.
he rolls his eyes and squeezes your waist. "you'll be sucking me off without me buying you food, trust me." you look up at him with a challenging smirk. "yeah? we'll see about that." he smirks back at you, running his fingers through your hair. "challenge accepted, baby."
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On the Surface
A/N: Nothing important, please enjoy and send me more ideas! Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader, Lucy MacLean WARNINGS: None Summary: Lucy knew traveling with the Ghoul would be tough, but no one told her it would be so... weird. Especially when he stops to pick up another companion along the way.
Word count: 1.2k+
(GIF credit to @talesfromthecrypts)
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Lucy surely didn’t know what to expect when she trudged along after the Ghoul and Wilzig’s dog, charmed by its new companion. 
She followed, weighed down by the revelations Moldaver had laid bare. It had pulled the curtain away from her entire life and ripped her heart to shreds. Between seeing her father flee and leaving Maximus, her mind was heavy with pain. 
The Ghoul was absolute zero on the comfort scale. He walked silently, only breaking it to mutter hypothetical questions at the dog- so affectionately called Dogmeat- and cough dryly. Lucy decided they had to have been walking for hours through sparse woods and dry ground before a flickering light appeared on the horizon. 
And after everything she’d been through, she fully expected another fight. 
But the Ghoul seemed to gain some motivation at the sight, and moved along at a quicker pace than they had been. Lucy was able to make out the shape of a small campfire burning, less than ten feet away from a fairly large, but crudely-built cabin. It was tucked into a patch of dead trees, and had what she thought to be clothes hanging on clotheslines outside. Even the dog was excited, barking loudly and jogging up to the cabin. 
Lucy stopped a few yards away, apprehension freezing her limbs into place. The Ghoul continued on, hopping lithely onto the front porch and knocking at the door. Again, she expected the occupant to come out, guns blazing, and be killed by the man at her door. 
Maybe he’d even make Lucy carve pieces of them off to make jerky again.
What she didn’t expect was the door to open, and the Ghoul to crack a smile she’d never seen. A figure- a woman- stepped out onto the porch. Lucy watched them exchange a few words before the woman leaned in towards the Ghoul and…. hugged him?
What the fuck even was this place?
The Ghoul, always cold and callous with Lucy, chuckled out loud. “Miss me, sugar?”
When she pulls away, the woman is beaming. “Every day.”
Lucy probably looks like a whole fool, jaw gaping and brow furrowed in confusion. She stares at the woman, who eventually turns an eye to her. 
“What’s this? Gettin’ some on the side, Cowboy?” The still unnamed woman trots off the porch towards the Vault-Dweller. 
Upon closer inspection, the woman doesn’t appear as angry as her statement. She’s got long hair wrapped into a complicated braided style to keep it up and out of her face. There’s a smattering of freckles over her sunburnt nose, and a jagged scar running the length of her right cheek. The gnarled tissue pulls her mouth into a scowl, but she’s otherwise well-kept. She’s probably three or four inches shorter than Lucy, but no less intimidating. 
“Calm down, woman.” The Ghoul bites. “This is Lucy MacLean.”
The woman pauses, looking back to him for confirmation before staring back at Lucy. “MacLean, eh? I can see it.”
Spurs clank as the Ghoul takes those slow, scary steps towards the woman. “Thought you might be interested in comin’ along. We’re followin’ her dad. Hank.”
A smile twists the lady’s lips, fighting against the wretched scar on her face. “Come on in. We can leave in the morning.”
And that’s how Lucy finds herself in the rickety cabin. The woman- who still hadn’t offered up a name, much like her Ghoul friend- had led her to a room and tossed a scratchy blanket and pillow in behind her. Despite her gruff exterior, she had told Lucy there was a pantry in the kitchen full of non-perishables, and cans of purified water hidden in the back. And though water sounded beautiful, Lucy was more stoked about the water purifier connected to the house. She was told there was cold but clean water in a makeshift wash room to clean up.
So Lucy took her time to freshen up in the first relatively put-together place she’d been since coming up from the Vault. The little cabin did have lights, thanks to a generator that hummed along outside. She was able to scrub the grime from her face and hands, and attempted to do the same with her Vault-suit. There was an old Nuka-cola  bottle on the floor in the washroom with ‘SOAP’ scratched across it in cursive. It lathered like any other that Lucy remembered, and she felt like a new person walking out of the wash room and back into her own little space. 
Unsurprisingly, her empty stomach reared its head in protest, and she decided she’d make one last trip to the pantry before bed. There were no voices outside of her room, just the humming of an old Television setup she’d seen on her way in. Lucy tiptoes back to the junction of the living area and pantry, but stops dead in her tracks. The lights are all off, and it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust. 
The living area right inside the door, the one she’d passed by on her way in, was occupied by both the Ghoul and his mysterious friend. However, instead of the simple sofa she’d observed prior, it was now pulled out into a bed. 
A bed in which the woman and the Ghoul were curled up,  completely unconscious. 
Lucy almost feels bad intruding on the situation, but she’s more bewildered that anyone could show such affection towards the irradiated man she’d come to hate over the past few days. And they’re not even just sharing the bed, they’re tangled together and… cuddling? The Ghoul is on his back, head propped on a pillow and hat still on his head but tipped down low to hide his disfigured face. The long coat he’d worn day in and day out is hanging over the armrest beside his bandolier, guns easily accessible. And the woman, looking relaxed as ever, is curled up on her side with her head on his chest. The Ghoul has one arm curled around her shoulder, the other loosely gripping his inhaler device as he sleeps. 
Lucy collects her jaw off the floor and scoots along to the pantry, snagging a couple ration bars and a can of water before heading back. She tries not to look again as she goes back to her room, but the temptation is too great. She pauses, turning back only to hear the click of a gun being cocked. 
In the darkness, she can only see the whites of the Ghoul’s eyes and a flash of teeth. “Move along, Vaultie.”
Lucy obeys, and practically dashes back to her room. 
So when they move out in the morning, Lucy pretends not to notice anything. When the pair stops their trek and leans in close to murmur directions at each other, Lucy taps away at her Pip-Boy. 
There’s even a time where she returns from gathering water to find them locked in a kiss, coats swaying in the Wasteland wind. And Lucy had immediately backed up, lingering in the treeline until they broke apart. 
The displays of affections continue with the travels, and it wasn’t odd to wake up to the sight of the woman curled beneath her Ghoul’s arm, content as ever. Days pass, and Lucy doesn’t mention it. It’s kind of cute, she comes to think. She didn’t dare mention anything in fear of the Ghoul’s wrath. 
So their odd trio trots along through the desert, letting Dogmeat take the lead. 
And Lucy? Well, she's learning to be blissfully ignorant towards the abnormalities on the surface.
----
thanks for reading, much love ❤️
Read More: Fallout Masterlist
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moonstruckme · 10 days
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hii! I was wondering if you could write something about James meeting reader for the first time when he finds her crying at a party or something? and just takes the time to comfort her and get to know her?
Idk that idea just came to me and I think it’s so sweet and adorable 😭🙏🏼
Thank you for requesting lovely!
cw: alcohol
James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words
You thought you came in here to be alone, but it’s just like a boy to come and ruin your plans. And just like James Potter to be drawn to the sound of your weeping like a superhero towards sirens. 
“Hello?” You cover your mouth with a hand as the bedroom door creaks open. “Is someone in here?” 
You recognize the voice even robbed of its usual levity, cautiously softened for your benefit. Your stilted breaths continue puffing out of your nose despite your attempts to be quiet, and James’ footsteps come closer. 
“Hey,” he says, crouching in front of you, “you alright?” 
“Mm-hm,” you hum pitchily. Your shoulders shake silently as tears continue gushing out of you. 
James’ forehead creases. “What’s wrong, love?” 
Your bottom lip wobbles at his concern, but you stay strong. “Nothing.” You wipe your cheek with the butt of your palm. “M’fine.” 
“Well, that’s good to hear.” He offers you a smile. The effect, you know, is dizzying when you’re sober, so you’re not too frightened when it works the same now. “Would you like a tissue?” 
You nod, and James reaches for the nightstand behind you. He pulls open the top drawer, one hand protecting your head from bumping into it, and procures a box of tissues. You take it from him, holding it in your lap. 
“How did you know where to find that?” 
“This is my best mate’s room,” he says. “Sirius. I’m James, by the way.” 
You blow your nose. “I know. I know who Sirius is, too.” 
“Yeah?” James grins. You fold the tissue and start wiping under your eyes. It does nothing to erase the mascara tracks already running down to your chin, but James doesn’t think telling you that will help anything. “He’ll be happy to hear that. I know you, too, though I don’t think we’ve had the chance to speak before.” 
“Sorry,” you say, patting the floor beside you for your drink. James subtly moves it beneath the bed. “I’m usually better to be around, I think.” 
“I don’t know,” he replies, “I’m having a good time hanging out with you.” 
You snort. “You must have a low bar.” 
James’ eyebrows raise, surprised mingled with amusement. “Can I ask you something?” 
You’re feeling for your drink again, not having processed its absence. “Um, sure.” 
“How’d you end up in here?” 
Immediately, your doleful mood returns. “Kayla’s mad at me.” 
“Kayla Chapman?” James tries to catch your gaze again as you nod at the floor. “Why’s that, darling?” 
“Sh—she—” Your lip wobbles again. When you don’t take a new tissue yourself James does it for you, pressing it into your hand. “We were together, and she was talking to this guy, and then she just disappeared,” you say while blowing your nose. “And she’d been drinking, so I was worried, you know?” 
You look to James for approval, and he nods. 
“Right, you didn’t want her to get taken advantage of.” 
“Exactly! So I had to look for her forever, I was totally panicking, and when I found her I tried to ask if she was okay and she said—” your voice cracks “—I embarrassed her. She was s—so angry with me.” 
“Oh, sweetheart.” James’ hand lands on your shoulder as you hunch over your lap. He rubs it consolingly. “I’m sure she’ll feel differently tomorrow. You were only trying to look out for her.” 
“She won’t,” you cry, having long forgotten your reservations about doing so in front of James Potter. “And she was the only person I knew here, so now I’m all alone.” 
“Well, that’s not true, is it?” He continues rubbing your shoulder steadily, as if comforting drunk girls at parties is something he does every night. It might be, you don’t know. “You know me.” 
You sniffle. “I meant my only friend.” 
“What, you don’t think of us as friends?” James sounds appalled. “I’m wounded, sweetheart. I thought we were getting in some quality bonding here.” 
You miss the humor in his voice completely, looking up at him through still-glossy eyes. “Are we friends?” 
“I’d like to be.” 
“Why?” 
James' expression does something funny. “Do you ask everyone who wants to be your friend that?” You tilt your head, unsure how to answer, but he goes on. “I like you. You try to keep your friends from being assaulted and you’re clearly conscious of your use of paper products—” You follow his gaze as he glances pointedly at the two tissues you’ve been folding to use over and over again “—what other qualities does a person need?” 
Your lips quirk just a little. James’ smile blooms all over again for seeing it. “You’re really nice,” you tell him. “I mean, I knew you were, s’what everyone says, but it’s still good in person.” 
A little laugh sputters out of him, but James doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. 
“I’m tiresome,” you warn him gravely. “You’ll get sick of me.” 
“I know we’ve only just met,” he replies, still smiling in that always-sunny way of his, “but I don’t really see that happening. I’ll be sure to let you know if it does.” He regards you for a moment. Your face is a mostly dried-up watershed of makeup and snot, collecting to a point around your chin, but James is happy to note no fresh tears seem prepared to spill. “Would it make you feel any better if we cleaned your face up a bit?” 
You blink and touch your fingertips to your face, brow scrunching when they come away sooty. “Oh,” you say. “That would be nice.” 
“I’ll be right back.” 
James takes your drink with him, grateful you don’t seem to notice as he dumps what remains in Sirius’ sink and tosses the cup in the bin. When he returns with a washcloth dampened with warm water, you’ve leaned your head against the side of the mattress and are staring into the middle distance. You still look heart-wrenchingly sad. James wonders if your friend is anywhere near as inebriated as you, and whether she realized that by leaving with that guy she was leaving you like this. Whether it was really you who needed to be looking out for her or the other way around. 
“Back.” His voice comes out quieter than he intends, reduced to nearly a whisper at the sight of your pensive state, but your eyes lift to his anyway. You raise your head as one corner of your mouth tilts upwards. It’s a greeting and, in James’ opinion, a decided improvement. 
He squats in front of you, palming one side of your face. “Close your eyes, love.” 
James has always made fun of Sirius for his “angsty towels,” but he sees their true purpose now; your makeup hardly shows on the dark material. He swipes it over your skin gently, extra careful around your eyes. 
“This is really nice of you,” you say. James decides not to let you know you’ve already expressed this sentiment. “This is, like, best friend level of niceness.” 
“Best friend,” he repeats, delighted. “Well, if I’d known I was going for the promotion, I would’ve gone above and beyond. Lavender oils on the washcloth and everything.” 
“Mm, you earned it on your own, though.” 
James grins. Your eyes are closed, but you’re smiling too.
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