#(it has been getting worse for years and years and years!)

[jkwrites-m]

Daddy Kookie (2)

Pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: childhood lovers to exes to lovers, parents au, idol au, smut, angst, fluff

Word Count: 6.4k

Summary: After Jungkook dropped all contact, Y/N was left broken - and pregnant. Seven years later, fate brings them back together.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, smut, angst, abandonment, young (teenage) pregnancy, unintentional parental neglect, resentment, fighting, boundaries, guilt, burnout, anxiety, confessions, reunions, slapping, anger, heartbreak, cursing, struggle, explicit: PRAISING, kissing, missionary, tension, pillow talk, unprotected sex

A/N: here’s what was originally the ending of part one but for some reason i can’t post that many blocks 😒 so here’s the “part 2”.

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═══════

I found Namjoon in the hotel gym that night.

He was alone, earbuds in, pacing the far side of the room with a water bottle tucked under one arm, muttering rehearsal notes to himself like he always did before a show. I stood in the doorway for a solid minute before I said anything.

He saw me in the mirror first.

Pulled out one earbud.

“You alright?” he asked.

“No.”

He nodded once and didn’t press me.

Just set down his bottle and motioned toward the bench press like, sit.

I sat.

And for a while, neither of us said a word.

“I met with her this morning,” I said finally, my voice rough from not speaking since the show.

Namjoon didn’t ask who.

He just waited.

“I asked for an hour. She gave me exactly that.”

I rubbed my hands together. My legs were bouncing, and I couldn’t stop.

“I thought I was ready to see her. But I wasn’t.”

Still, Namjoon said nothing.

“She has a daughter.”

His brows lifted just slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“She’s mine,” I added. “Her name is Eun Ae.”

That got him.

Namjoon blinked slowly and sat down on the bench across from me. “You’re a dad?”

I nodded. “I didn’t know. I- God, hyung, I blocked her. She tried to tell me and I just… I disappeared.”

He sighed but didn’t scold me.

I think that made it worse.

“She raised her alone,” I said. “Worked. Went to school. Everything. No help. And I was here, living my dream while she was raising my kid and barely surviving.”

“You didn’t know,” Namjoon said carefully.

“I should’ve.”

“That’s true.”

I buried my face in my hands. “She’s giving me one chance. Tomorrow. At the zoo. I get to meet her - meet my daughter - for the first time and I don’t even know how to breathe around the thought of it.”

He let me sit in the silence for a beat.

Then: “What are you most scared of?”

“That she’ll hate me.”

Namjoon’s gaze softened.

“That she’ll ask me where I’ve been,” I whispered, “and I won’t know how to answer.”

“You don’t have to have all the answers,” he said. “You just have to show up. That’s what matters now.”

“I want to be in her life,” I said. “I want to earn it. I want to be someone she can count on. Not someone she has to recover from.”

Namjoon nodded slowly. “That’s a good place to start.”

“And Y/N…” My voice cracked. “I still love her.”

“I know.”

“I don’t expect her to forgive me. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I want her to see that I’m not the same kid who left.”

“You’re not,” he said.

I looked up at him. “What if I ruin it again?”

“Then you don’t,” Namjoon said. “You show up. You listen. You apologize. You be present. And if they don’t let you in, you keep showing up until they do- or until they tell you to stop. Either way, you stay honest.”

I nodded, swallowing hard.

“Thanks, hyung.”

He gave a tired smile. “Get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

I didn’t sleep much.

But I dreamed of a little girl with my eyes.

And Y/N beside her.

═══════

It was her idea to wear her tiger hoodie.

“Because we’re going to the zoo,” she said, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

I tied her shoelaces twice- her feet wouldn’t stop bouncing- then stood up and stared at her for a moment too long.

“Mama?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you nervous?”

A pause.

“No,” I said. “I’m just thinking.”

It wasn’t a lie. I was thinking. About everything.

About how I swore he’d never meet her. About how easily I’d broken that rule yesterday. About how I’d watched his hands tremble when I said the word daughter.

He didn’t cry, not fully.

But he looked like someone who had finally understood what it meant to break something that couldn’t be fixed.

I kept that image close as I buckled her into her booster seat and drove to the zoo.

He was already waiting by the entrance.

Sunglasses. Mask. Hoodie. Head tucked down.

It should’ve made him look anonymous.

It didn’t.

Even behind all that, he looked unmistakably like him.

And when Eun Ae saw him, she didn’t pause.

She ran.

Full-speed. Straight up to him like she’d known him her whole life.

“Hi!” she chirped. “I’m Eun Ae. Are you the friend Mama said we’re meeting?”

He knelt down slowly.

I watched his fingers shake as he pulled the mask down from his face.

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m… I’m Jungkook.”

“That’s a funny name,” she giggled. “Can I call you Mr. Kookie?”

He let out a short, stunned laugh.

“Sure,” he said, clearing his throat. “You can call me that.”

She grabbed his hand like it was nothing. Like it was normal.

Like this hadn’t been six years coming.

I followed a few steps behind them, unsure what to do with my arms, my heart, my breath.

They moved together easily.

Too easily.

He matched her pace. Let her pick which exhibits to visit. Lifted her onto his shoulders to see the giraffes. Bought her a pretzel and wiped the cheese off her face without hesitation. They laughed at the same things. Tilted their heads the same way when they were curious. Chewed the straw of their drinks when they were thinking.

They were mirrors.

And I was the frame- holding it all together, barely.

At the tiger enclosure, Eun Ae pressed her palms to the glass and gasped.

“They’re so cool!” she shouted. “I want one!”

“They’re a little big for a pet,” Jungkook said, crouching next to her.

“I’d teach it tricks.”

“I bet you would.”

There was a pause. Then she asked the question I’d been dreading.

“Did you know my mom when she was my age?”

Jungkook blinked.

I tensed.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I did.”

“Was she weird like me?”

“She was perfect,” he said. “Exactly like you.”

She grinned. “So… super weird?”

He laughed, and I heard something in it that sounded like mourning.

Later, while she climbed a small jungle gym near the café, I sat beside him on the bench.

He didn’t speak at first.

Just watched her, eyes full of things I didn’t want to name.

“She’s incredible,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“You already said that.”

“I’ll say it again,” he said. “As many times as you need.”

We sat in silence for a long time.

Then I heard my voice say something I hadn’t planned.

“You’re good with her.”

He turned to me, surprised.

“She doesn’t know who you are,” I added. “But she likes you.”

“I’m glad.”

“She’s never had… that. A male figure. Anyone to play like that with.”

He looked away. “That’s my fault.”

I didn’t correct him.

He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled something out.

A little stuffed tiger.

“I bought this on the way here,” he said, holding it up. “I didn’t know if I’d get to give it to her.”

She ran back to us just then, sweaty and smiling.

Jungkook knelt again and held out the tiger.

“For you.”

Her eyes lit up.

“Thanks, Mr. Kookie!”

She hugged him. No hesitation.

He closed his eyes like the moment hurt in a way he needed.

═══════

That night, after Eun Ae was tucked into bed, I sat on the couch with a blanket around my shoulders and my phone pressed to my ear.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

Like the kind of quiet that presses in on your skin and makes your thoughts louder than they should be.

“She hugged him,” I whispered.

My best friend on the other end of the line didn’t speak. She waited. She always did.

“She hugged him like she’d known him her whole life. Like he hadn’t missed anything. Like he hadn’t disappeared.”

I wiped under my eyes with the edge of my sleeve.

“And he was… good with her. Gentle. Patient. Funny. Like he’d been waiting his whole life to meet her. Like he already loved her.”

“You sound surprised,” my friend said.

“I am,” I confessed. “I don’t want to be. But I am.”

There was a pause.

“You still love him,” she said.

I closed my eyes.

“Don’t,” I said softly. “Please.”

“Y/N-”

“I can’t afford to love him,” I whispered. “Not again. Not after what he did.”

The words came out raw and wet and cracked.

“I spent years hating him,” I said. “Years trying to forget the way he looked at me, the way he kissed me, the way he made me believe in things that never came true. And today, I watched him hold our daughter’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and I…This could’ve been real. This life. This moment. All of it. If he had just… stayed.”

I swallowed the sob that threatened.

“I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel hate. I felt… sad. And full. And furious. And terrified. All at once.”

“You’re allowed to feel all of that.”

“I know. But it doesn’t make it easier.”

She didn’t say anything for a while.

Then: “Do you think he still loves you?”

I laughed. Quiet and bitter. “He says he does.”

“And do you believe him?”

I looked out the window. The city lights blinked back like stars caught in a snow globe.

“I believe he thinks he does,” I said. “But I don’t know if he loves me- who I am now. Not the girl he left behind.”

“You don’t have to decide anything now.”

“I don’t want to decide anything,” I said. “I just want to breathe again.”

I hung up after that.

Tucked my phone under the blanket and rested my head on the arm of the couch. My eyes closed. My chest ached. I felt heavy and hollow and full of fire all at the same time.

And then I heard it.

A shuffle.

A creak of the hallway floorboard.

I turned.

Jungkook stood there, just outside the door frame, his hand against the wall like he needed it to hold himself up.

He hadn’t knocked.

He hadn’t said a word.

He just looked at me like he’d walked straight into the center of a storm he hadn’t seen coming.

“You heard all that,” I said, my voice flat.

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said quietly. “I was bringing back the little drawing she made. She left it in my jacket pocket. I was going to knock. I just… heard you.”

I sat up slowly.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

He didn’t budge.

“Y/N,” he said softly, voice shaking. “I love you. Not just the girl I left. Not some idea. You. Right now. All of it.”

And then he crossed the room.

Without another word, he bent down and kissed me.

Soft and sure and shaking all at once.

And for one second - just one - I kissed him back.

It was like breathing again for the first time in years. Like lightning. Like a heartbeat I didn’t know I missed.

But then I pulled back.

And I slapped him.

Hard.

He didn’t even flinch.

“You can’t just do that,” I said, my voice rising. “You don’t get to walk in here, say I love you, and kiss me like it erases what you did.”

“I know,” he said, eyes shining. “I know it doesn’t fix anything. I just needed you to know it’s real.”

A long silence stretched between us.

He finally set the folded piece of paper on the table.

It was a crayon drawing. Stick figures. A tiger. The word “KOOKIE” spelled backwards across the top.

“I’ll go,” he said, stepping back. “But… thank you. For today.”

He turned and walked out before I could say a word.

And I sat there, hands shaking, heart a mess, trying not to chase after him.

Because no matter how much I wanted to…

I didn’t know if I could survive loving him again.

═══════

I didn’t mean to kiss her.

I meant to leave.

I meant to say those words and walk away like a man who’d learned his lesson. Who knew better now.

But when I looked at her- sitting on that couch, eyes full of grief and strength- I forgot what I was supposed to do.

And when her lips touched mine back… for that brief, burning second, I thought maybe I wasn’t too late.

But then she slapped me.

And she was right to.

I walked out shortly after. The drawing Eun Ae made was still on the table. The door shut behind me like punctuation on a sentence I’d rewritten too many times in my head.

I didn’t go to my room.

I went to Namjoon’s.

He was still up, writing in a leather-bound notebook like always. When he opened the door and saw my face, he didn’t ask. Just moved aside to let me in.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands gripping the hem of my hoodie.

“She still hates me,” I said.

Namjoon didn’t reply. Just waited.

“I heard her talking to someone. On the phone. After the zoo.” I exhaled shakily. “She said it could’ve been real. The life. The moment. If I had just stayed.”

My voice cracked.

“She’s right,” I said. “It could’ve been. I destroyed everything.”

Namjoon sat in the chair across from me, elbows on his knees. “You didn’t destroy everything.”

“I kissed her,” I admitted.

That got a raised eyebrow.

“She kissed me back. For a second. Then she slapped me.”

Namjoon didn’t flinch. “You probably deserved it.”

“I definitely deserved it.”

I leaned forward, elbows on my thighs, head in my hands.

“She thinks I’m just showing up now because of Eun Ae. But it’s not that. I was going to try before I even knew. I swear. I just… I still love her. That never went away.”

“I know,” Namjoon said. “We all do.”

“She said she doesn’t know if I love who she is now. Not the girl I left behind.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. “She’s stronger. Sharper. She’s everything I wish I’d grown up fast enough to deserve.”

Namjoon nodded slowly.

“Then show her,” he said. “Not with words. You’ve said enough. Do something.”

“Like what?”

“Think,” he said. “What did she love? What mattered to her?”

I blinked.

“Wildflowers,” I said. “She always picked the ugly ones growing out of sidewalk cracks. Said they were survivors.”

Namjoon smiled. “Then that’s where you start.”

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat.

“I’m going to show up,” I said. “Every day. Until she tells me not to. Or until she believes me.”

“Good,” Namjoon said. “And Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not a piece of shit. You were a scared kid who made a selfish mistake. Now you’re a man who has to own it.”

I nodded again.

I wasn’t running anymore.

Tomorrow, I’d bring her flowers.

Not roses.

Not something expensive or flashy.

Just wildflowers.

The ones that survive.

═══════

He didn’t text the next morning.

Didn’t call.

Didn’t knock.

But when I opened the door to take out the trash, there was a bouquet of wildflowers on the step.

No note.

No explanation.

Just color.

Simple and honest.

I stared at them for a long time before I brought them inside.

I didn’t put them in a vase.

Not yet.

Eun Ae noticed them instantly.

“Oooh, are those for you?”

“Yeah,” I said, almost under my breath.

“From Mr. Kookie?”

I froze.

She giggled. “He smells like sunshine.”

I blinked. “What?”

“His hoodie. It smelled like sunshine. And gum.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

She took one of the smaller stems from the bouquet and tucked it behind my ear before skipping off to play.

═══════

The next day, he didn’t bring flowers.

He brought her a book.

One of those thick picture books with a glittery cover and a dragon on the front. She shrieked like she’d won the lottery. He handed it to her without a word and let her read to him, even though she kept skipping pages and making up half the story.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t correct her.

He just smiled like it was the best thing he’d ever heard.

I watched from the kitchen, trying not to feel anything.

Trying to stay steady.

Trying not to remember the way his hand had felt on my cheek when he kissed me.

And the sting of my own palm after.

═══════

The third day, he showed up with both- flowers for me, a new stuffed animal (a bunny this time) for her, and takeout from my favorite noodle place.

He didn’t ask to stay.

Just handed it over, bowed, and walked away.

I didn’t stop him.

But I didn’t close the door right away either.

═══════

The fourth day, he didn’t come.

And I hated how I noticed.

How the absence felt like a missing rhythm in my day. A skipped beat.

I told myself it was good. Smart. Necessary.

That space was healthy.

But then he texted.

Jungkook: Didn’t want to crowd you today. Just… wanted you to know I’m here.

I didn’t reply.

But I stared at that message for a long time.

═══════

The fifth day, he came by again. This time he asked if we wanted to go for ice cream.

Eun Ae screamed like he’d asked her to Disneyland.

I tried to say no.

I did.

But my mouth betrayed me.

“Okay,” I said. “Just an hour.”

He didn’t smile like he won.

He smiled like it hurt to be that grateful.

We walked to the corner shop with her bouncing between us. He let her pick his flavor. She made him get bubblegum. He pretended to like it. I knew he didn’t.

He caught me watching him.

And didn’t look away.

That night, after she was in bed, I sat on the same couch, stared at the same wall, and whispered into the dark:

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

And I meant it.

I wasn’t ready.

Not yet.

But I also wasn’t closing the door anymore.

Not all the way.

═══════

I should’ve known it was too good to last.

The morning started perfect.

Too perfect.

Jungkook showed up with matching zoo t-shirts he found online. One for him, one for Eun Ae. Hers said “Mini Tiger.” His said “Big Tiger.”

She laughed for five straight minutes and made him wear it out in public.

I rolled my eyes and told him he was shameless.

He just grinned and handed me a coffee with two extra espresso shots- exactly the way I liked it.

“Trying to bribe me?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

I didn’t smile.

But my fingers brushed his on accident when I took the cup.

And I didn’t pull away.

We took Eun Ae to the botanical gardens. Let her feed koi fish and run across wooden bridges with her stuffed tiger tucked under one arm. Jungkook stayed close the entire time. Carrying her backpack, tying her shoe when it came undone, wiping ice cream off her face.

It almost looked like a family. 

Almost.

We sat on the grass to rest before lunch, and she ran over to the koi pond like it was a different world.

“She’s so comfortable with you,” I said, trying not to let it sound like an accusation.

“I’m glad,” he said. “I want her to be.”

There was a quiet pause.

Then he looked at me and said something that should’ve been sweet.

But it wasn’t.

“She’s just like you, you know.”

I blinked.

“She’s strong and stubborn and always needs to be right. She even talks with her hands like you do- ”

“Don’t,” I said, sharper than I meant to.

He froze. “What?”

“Don’t compare us like that.”

“I wasn’t- I meant it as a good thing-”

“She’s not a mirror, Jungkook,” I snapped. “She’s a person. Her own person.”

“I know that,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like- ”

“You weren’t around. You don’t know what she’s like. You’ve seen her for what? A week? You don’t get to analyze her like you raised her.”

His mouth opened. Then closed.

And I saw something shift in his eyes.

Something small and hurt.

Then a tiny voice interrupted us.

“I’m sorry,” Eun Ae whispered.

We both turned.

She was standing by the fish pond again, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to make you mad,” she sniffled. “I’ll be good.”

“No,” I said quickly, moving toward her. “Baby, no. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She clung to me like her little heart might explode.

I scooped her up and pressed her to my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, voice thick. “I’m not mad at you. I promise. You didn’t do anything.”

She looked over my shoulder at Jungkook. “Are you mad too?”

He shook his head, eyes glassy. “No, sweetheart. Never.”

“I just wanted to have a nice day,” she mumbled.

My throat tightened.

“I know,” I whispered.

We sat on the bench together for a long time after that.

No one said much.

═══════

Eun Ae fell asleep in the car on the way home, and Jungkook carried her inside like muscle memory. He tucked her into bed without needing directions, covered her with her favorite blanket, and kissed the crown of her head before stepping back like it hurt to walk away.

Neither of us said much after that.

He left for the venue early that night to prep for their final concert.

I stood in the hallway after he left, hand pressed against the door, heart aching like it was made of split seams and bad timing.

I didn’t cry.

But I wanted to.

Because I knew this was what I did.

Push away before I could be left again.

═══════

The stadium vibrated under my feet.

Screams rolled like thunder across the roof, and I could feel the beat of the music reverberating through the concrete backstage walls.

It was the final night of BTS’s residency.

Everything was fire.

Everything was electric.

Everything was right- except me.

I stood at the main comms table with a headset snug against my ears, spitting rapid-fire cues to the light techs, the camera ops, and the runners, my voice a metronome of control.

“Camera C, pan stage right. Cue smoke burst. Light rig alpha, wait two seconds on drop- no, two seconds, not four-”

My tone was clipped. My spine straight.

On the outside, I looked like I had it together.

But I could feel it.

The crack behind my ribs. The pulse behind my eyes. The way I flinched every time his voice cut through the speakers.

Every note he sang.

Every lyric he poured his soul into.

It hurt.

I told myself I didn’t care.

I told myself I was over it.

But every time the lights shifted and his silhouette appeared, I remembered the way he’d looked when he kissed me and the way he’d stayed when I slapped him.

I remembered how his voice broke when he said, “I love you. Right now. All of it.”

I remembered the way he meant it.

And I remembered how much that terrified me.

“Y/N?” someone called in my ear. “Spotlight three needs confirmation. We’re doing the slow solo bridge in thirty.”

I blinked, the fog in my head thick.

“Copy that,” I said quickly. “Cue in thirty. Confirm on bridge.”

I watched the monitors as he stepped up to the center of the stage.

Alone.

Golden lights haloed around him. Fans screamed his name from every direction.

And he sang.

Not just to them.

I knew that voice.

I knew when it was for the crowd…

…and when it was for me.

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

Stop it.

Don’t romanticize this.

Don’t soften.

But I did.

I always did.

Every time his voice cracked. Every time he hit a note like it cost him a piece of himself.

He looked straight into the lens during the final chorus- the one that streamed to every screen in the arena.

It was almost too direct.

Too intentional.

And in that moment, I knew.

He wasn’t singing to a sea of strangers.

He was singing to me.

The cue ended. The screen faded to black. Lights cut. Screams exploded.

My heart thudded harder than the bass.

I turned away from the monitor and pulled off my headset.

I needed air.

The crew backstage was already preparing for encore. The guys were offstage hydrating, catching their breath, prepping for the last two songs.

I slipped through a side door and stepped out into the shadowed corridor by the loading dock. It was cold. Quiet. The noise of the crowd muffled by thick walls.

I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

I didn’t want this to hurt.

But it did.

I didn’t want to care.

But I did.

And worst of all?

I didn’t want to want him.

But God, I did.

═══════

The cheers were still echoing in my bones.

My shirt clung to my back, soaked through with sweat. My hair was dripping. My lungs were still catching up.

But all I could think about was her.

I didn’t see her once during the show. Not backstage. Not in the wings. Not even in the flashes of tech crew darting through shadows.

But I felt her.

Like gravity.

Like silence.

Like a missing beat in the rhythm I couldn’t get right.

I sat alone in the dressing room while the rest of the guys laughed and recapped their favorite fan chants. Jimin had his feet on the table, Taehyung was dancing shirtless with a can of soda, and Jin was complaining about the confetti in his hair.

But I couldn’t join them.

I couldn’t even smile.

My hands trembled as I unlaced my boots. My knees bounced restlessly. My throat was dry, but I couldn’t drink anything.

Because all I could hear was her voice.

“You don’t know what she’s like.”

“You weren’t around.”

“You don’t get to analyze her like you raised her.”

She was right.

Every word.

I’d tried so hard to connect, I didn’t realize I was stepping on landmines she’d spent years trying to bury.

I messed it up.

Again.

“Yo,” Namjoon said, stepping into the room and tossing me a towel. “You good?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’re lying.”

I sighed. “I know.”

He sat down across from me, cracking open a bottle of water and sliding one my way.

“She didn’t talk to me tonight,” I said.

“You talk to her?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then maybe she’s waiting.”

“Or maybe she’s done.”

Namjoon didn’t say anything to that. He just leaned back and looked at me with those eyes that saw way too much.

“Do you regret it?” he asked.

I blinked. “Regret what?”

“Kissing her.”

I hesitated.

“No,” I said. “Not for a second.”

“She kissed you back.”

“Just for a second.”

“But she did,” he said. “And that means something.”

“Does it?”

He nodded. “It means she hasn’t closed the door. She’s just scared to open it.”

I stared at the floor.

“I don’t want to scare her,” I whispered. “I just want to show her that I’m not that kid anymore. That I’m not running. That I’m here. I’m here.”

Namjoon leaned forward. “Then tell her. Really tell her. Not to fix things. Not to beg. Just to say it. Say what you didn’t back then.”

I nodded slowly.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” I said. 

“Then tonight’s your last chance.”

“I don’t know if she’ll open the door.”

“Then knock anyway.”

I looked up.

“I’m scared,” I admitted. “If she sends me away, I don’t know if I’ll recover.”

“She won’t send you away,” he said. “Not if you’re honest. Not if you’re real.”

I took a deep breath.

I was real.

I was terrified.

But I was real.

═══════

I didn’t ask what he was doing here.

I didn’t ask why he looked like he hadn’t slept in days or why his fingers were twitching at his sides like they didn’t know how to be still.

I just watched as he stepped inside my apartment, slowly, like the floor might vanish beneath him and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

He stood there for a long time.

Like he couldn’t find the words.

Like if he said the wrong thing, I’d vanish.

I leaned against the wall and waited.

He finally looked up.

“I didn’t know how to leave this city without seeing you again.”

I didn’t reply.

“I’m not asking for anything,” he said. “Not your forgiveness. Not a second chance. Not some happy ending I don’t deserve. I just… I need you to know.”

His voice cracked.

“I need you to know that I never stopped loving you.”

My breath caught.

“I didn’t leave because I stopped. I left because I was scared. And young. And stupid. And then I was ashamed. So ashamed I couldn’t even look at myself. So I blocked you. I shut you out. Because every time I thought of you, I remembered what I threw away.”

My throat burned.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known,” he said. “And you raised our daughter without me. You built a life, a home, a future- and I wasn’t there. I missed her first words. Her first steps. Her birthdays. I missed everything.”

Tears welled in his eyes.

“I don’t deserve to be her dad. I don’t deserve to even stand in this hallway. But I’m here. And if there’s even the smallest piece of you that believes I could be more than what I was-”

He stopped.

Swallowed hard.

“-then I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

The silence that followed felt like thunder.

And then I whispered, “You don’t get to walk back in and say the right thing and expect it to fix the past.”

“I know,” he said, hoarse.

“But…”

He looked up.

“But you said the right thing anyway.”

And then I stepped toward him.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Until I reached for him.

And he broke.

His hands cupped my face like I was something fragile, like I was glass, like he wasn’t sure if I’d let him keep holding me.

And when he kissed me- this time- I didn’t slap him.

I kissed him back.

Hard. Messy. Real.

It wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t soft.

It was years of ache and regret and longing that had nowhere else to go.

His hoodie came off, tossed aside like it was nothing, and mine followed, sliding to the floor in a forgotten heap.

Hands found skin like they were remembering. His fingers traced the curve of my waist, the dip of my spine, like he was mapping me again, reclaiming territory he’d lost. 

My back hit the hallway wall, the cold plaster a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressing against mine. He kissed down my neck, his breath hot and ragged, and whispered, 

“I missed you so much. I missed this. I missed you.”

I moaned into his mouth, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. We stumbled toward the bedroom, shedding layers like they were shackles, breathless and desperate. 

The bed creaked beneath us as he lowered me onto it, his weight hovering above me, his eyes searching mine like he needed permission.

“This okay?” he asked, barely above a whisper, his voice raw with need and uncertainty. I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest, but he needed more. 

“Say it.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He didn’t hesitate. His lips found mine again, hungry and demanding, but his hands were gentle, reverent, like he was worshipping me. He kissed his way down my body, pausing at my breasts, his tongue tracing the curve of my nipples, his lips murmuring praises against my skin. 

“God, I missed these. So fucking beautiful.”

I arched into his touch, my breath hitching as his hands slid down my thighs, his fingers brushing the edge of my panties. He hooked them with a single finger, pulling them down slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. 

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Always were.”

He kissed his way back up, his lips brushing mine before trailing down my neck, his hands roaming over my body like he was memorizing every inch. 

“I’ve thought about this every day,” he confessed, his breath hot against my ear. “Every. Fucking. Day.”

I reached for him, my hands tracing the lean muscles of his back, the ink of his tattoo sleeve, the piercings that glinted under the dim light. He was solid and real, and I couldn’t stop touching him, like I needed to prove he was here, that this was real.

He shifted above me, his eyes dark with need, and I felt him, hard and insistent against my thigh. 

“I need you,” he growled, his voice rough, his hands gripping my hips. “Now.”

I nodded, my heart racing, my body aching for him. He didn’t waste another second. He entered me slowly, his eyes locked on mine, his breath catching as he filled me completely. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, his forehead resting against mine. “You feel so good.”

He began to move, slow and deliberate, his hips rocking into mine, his hands gripping my thighs like he was anchoring himself to me. 

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and demanding, and I obeyed, my eyes meeting his, holding his gaze as he thrust deeper, harder.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing mine with each movement. “So perfect.”

His words sent shivers down my spine, his praise fueling the fire burning between us. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, meeting his thrusts with my own, our bodies moving in perfect sync. 

“Jungkook,” I gasped, my nails digging into his back, my voice breaking as pleasure coiled tight in my core.

He growled, his pace quickening, his hands gripping my hips tighter, his control slipping. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

His words were my undoing. My walls clenched around him, my body trembling as my orgasm crashed over me, waves of pleasure washing through me, my breath catching in a sharp cry. “Jungkook!”

He whispered into my neck, his lips brushing my skin, his voice hoarse and desperate. “I love you. I love you so much.”

His words were a balm, a salve to wounds I didn’t realize were still raw. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back, my body still trembling as he followed me over the edge, his thrusts becoming frantic, his breath ragged against my skin. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice breaking as he came, his body shuddering above me, his release a sharp, primal sound.

He collapsed onto me, his weight heavy but comforting, his breath hot against my neck. For a moment, we just lay there, our hearts pounding in unison, our bodies still joined, the silence thick with unspoken emotions.

He brushed my hair back and kissed my forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he said, voice trembling.

I didn’t answer.

But I didn’t ask him to leave either.

And that was enough.

For now.

═══════

I woke up to the sound of his breathing.

Slow. Steady.

It filled the room like the soft hum of a song I hadn’t heard in years.

For a moment, I didn’t open my eyes.

I just listened.

Soaked in the weight of him next to me. The warmth of his arm draped around my waist. The rise and fall of his chest behind my back. His hand, large and gentle, resting against my ribs like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.

The light was pale through the blinds. Morning had barely begun.

But the ache in my chest already knew it was time.

I turned over slowly.

He was already awake.

Watching me.

Not smiling. Not saying anything.

Just looking.

Like this was the first morning of his life that made sense.

I searched his face for hesitation.

There wasn’t any.

Just quiet awe.

And something softer than I knew what to do with.

“You didn’t sleep,” I whispered.

“Didn’t want to.”

I blinked. “Why not?”

He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.

“Didn’t want to miss this.”

My throat tightened.

I looked away.

“You’re leaving today.”

It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “My flight’s in four hours.”

I swallowed.

“Will you tell her?”

He nodded again. “I want to. When you’re ready.”

“I don’t know when that’ll be.”

“I’ll wait.”

I looked back at him.

He meant it.

“I don’t know what this is,” I said softly.

“Me neither,” he replied. “But I want to find out.”

Silence stretched between us like thread.

“Can I see you before I go?” he asked.

“You’re seeing me now.”

He smiled. Just barely. “After I pack. Before the airport.”

I didn’t say yes.

But I didn’t say no.

He leaned in and kissed me once- just once- like he didn’t want to ask for more than I could give.

Then he pulled back, exhaled, and whispered:

“I’m so in love with you.”

I didn’t say it back.

But I didn’t need to.

Because he pressed his forehead to mine, closed his eyes, and stayed there for a long time.

And when he finally pulled away, when he slipped out of bed and gathered his things, I watched him with something heavy and quiet in my chest.

Not fear.

Not anger.

Something like hope.

And when Eun Ae woke an hour later and asked where Mr. Kookie was, I smiled, just a little, and said:

“He’s not gone. Not really.”

Because for the first time in years…

I believed it.

═══════

Post A/N: dont hate me 😭 there’s still so much to their story

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MASTERPOST ♡ MASTERLIST

♡ requests are welcome ♡ taglist ♡

These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

═══════

Posted: 06/24/2025

Taglist: @mar-lo-pap @lovingkoalaface @whoa-jo @kiliskywalker666 @sucker4jeon @annpeachy-blog @kaiparkerwifes @nikkinikj @elithenium @asyr97 @heyinwluv85s @jjkluver7 @bammbi-jeon127 @kookoo-kachoo @angelsdecalcomania @kayswatanabe @granataepfelchen @kelsyx33 @tatamicc @blubird592 @llallaaa @chromietriestowrite @k1ll1ngcl0wns @jahnaviii @mfsitscho @traumaanatomy @mellyyyyyyx @yu-justme @bangtaniess @xmiaacxio @emmie2308 @magicalnachocreator @suker4angst @dragonflygurl4 @taetaecatboy @somehowukook @iiamnotsure @lavender2ari @busanbby-jjk @prilnextdoor23 @ecomidnight @cuntessaiii @jungshaking @nbjch05 @baechugff @jakiki94 @songbyeonkim

[enabi-seira]

Where I live we are used to summers up to 38°C, but this year we've already reached 42ºC and summer has just started so, if you don't mind, I'd like to add some.

Try to avoid the hours of higher sun force as much as possible, the siesta time exists for a reason.

Look for recipes that can be eaten cold, like salads with different bases (pasta, beans, lentils or chickpeas, for example) and reduce using the oven if possible.

Colors are important, dark colors absorb more light so they produce more heat, while bright ones reflect more light and don't get as hot. Materials are also important (natural fibers are the best at keeping you dry and colder).

Cold showers can be your friend, but if you can't stand them try to put the water as cold as you can at least before getting out of the shower. A hot shower can increase your body temperature and make things worse. But as OP says, remember the importance of lowering the temperature gradually.

If you can't shower, a wet cloth can do the job. If you just want to cool down but not clean, cold water over wrists and neck help.

Speaking of water, a bucket with water and salt goes well for swollen feet and cooling. You can sit and relax or keep doing things while seated.

I know many people like to keep their hair long, but cutting it short helps. Short haircuts are easier to mantain, clean and dry (you can even let it dry alone in minutes depending on length and temp).

If you won't, updos can do, although they might induce headaches.

If your job doesn't offer changes to accommodate for the heat, it's time to unionize. Where I live some jobs change their work hours and allow more breaks during heat season. Here is the government who makes the call (it started as a campaign to reduce deaths by heat stroke, just to make it clear that this is not a joke), but some companies already have been doing it.

For the car, get yourself a sun shade, it doesn't need to be expensive, it just need to keep the sun away for the things you're going to touch, specially if they are metallic. I'm sure you can find covers for things like seatbelts, seats and steering wheel online too.

And lastly, this is not for bearing the heat, but please, PLEASE, be careful doing things outside or you can start a monster of a fire. Don't throw garbage to the ground (cigarettes, plastics, glass...). With high enough temperatures not only anything can catch fire, but that fire can be nearly impossible to stop. I've seen fires that reignited an hour after it was extinct because the temperature was so high that the embers couldn't be cooled.

For all of the northerners that stood up for Texas during our freeze and said, "Don't make fun of them, they've never dealt with this before. Their infrastructure isn't made for snow and freezing."

This one is for you.

Where I live 108°F with 80% humidity with no wind is normal.

Pacific North West is dealing historic best waves 35-40°C or 95-105°F.

First of all. Don't make fun of them for bitching about the heat. Just like Texas isn't built for a freeze and our pipes burst, Pacific North West isn't built for heat and a lot of their homes don't have AC.

If you live somewhere with a high humidity like 80+ HUMIDITY IS NOT YOUR FRIEND. The "humidity makes it feel cooler" is a lie once it gets beyond a point.

If you live somewhere with a lower humidity, misters are nice to cool off outside.

Once you get over 90°F (32°C) a fan will not help you. It's just pushing around hot air. (I mean if you can't afford a small AC unit because they're expensive as hell, by all means a fan is better than nothing).

Window AC units will let mosquitoes or other small bugs in. Sucks, but that's life.

Now is not the time to me modest. If you have to cover for religious reasons, by all means. If you don't, I've seen people wear short shorts and a swim top. It's not trashy if it keeps you from getting heat stroke.

If you do have to cover up for religious reasons, look for elephant pants or something similar. They're made with a breathable material.

Shade is better than no shade, but that shit it just diet sun after some point. Don't think shade will save you from heat stroke.

I know the "drink your water" is a fun meme now, but if you're sweating excessively you need electrolytes. Drink Gatorade, Powerade, or Pedialite PLEASE. I don't care if you're fucking sitting in one spot all day. That shit WILL save you from heat stroke.

Most importantly. RESEARCH THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HEAT STROKE AND HEAT EXHAUSTION PLEASE!

If you're diabetic and can't drink Gatorade, mix water, fruit juice, and either lite salt or pink salt

If you can afford it, cover windows with thick curtains to insulate the house

If you have tile floors, lay on them with skin to tile contact. If you don't, laying your head on cool counters works too.

If the temperature where you're at is hotter than your body temperature, don't wear heat wicking clothing. Moisture wicking is safe though.

Check your medication labels. Many make you more susceptible to sun and heat

-Room temperature water will get into your body faster. This is something I learned doing marching band in high summer in Georgia, and it saved all of our asses. Sip it, don't gulp it, especially if you're getting into the red; same goes for whatever fluid you're drinking. And just in general drink during the day.

-If you are moving from an air conditioned space to an un-air conditioned space, if at all possible try to make the shift gradual. When my dad and I were working outside and in un-ac houses a few years ago, he'd turn the air down to low in the truck about ten-fifteen minutes before we got where we were going. This way your body doesn't go from low low temps to high temps. S'bad for you.

-If you can, keep your lights off during the day. Light bulbs may not generate a lot of heat, but the difference is noticeable when it gets hot enough. I literally only turn my bedroom light on in the evening when it gets too dark.

Don't be afraid to just like... pour water on yourself if you need to. The evaporation will cool you off.

Put your hand to the cement for 15 seconds. If you can't handle the heat, it'll burn your dog's paws. Don't let them walk on it.

Dogs with flat faces are more prone to heat stroke. Don't leave them out unsupervised.

Frozen fruit is delicious in water.

Wet/Cold hat/handkerchief on your head/neck will help you stay cool.

Pickle juice is great for electrolytes! You can even make pickle juice Popsicles!

Heat exhaustion is more, "drink water and get you cooled off." Heat stroke is more "Oh my god call 911."

Image Description provided by @loveize

[Image description: an infographic showing the difference between heat exhaustion and heat stroke. The graphic is labeled "Heat Dangers: First Warning." Signs of heat exhaustion: faint or dizzy, excessive sweating, cool, pale, clammy skin, rapid, weak pulse, muscle cramps. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat exhaustion, get to a cool, air-conditioned place, drink water if conscious, and take a cool shower or use cold compress. Signs of heat stroke: throbbing headache, no sweating, red, hot, dry skin, rapid, strong pulse, may lose consciousness. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat stroke, call 911. End description]

Be safe.

-fae

[promiscuousg1rl]

rich girl ― Rafe Cameron

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!reader

warnings: reader is rich and bitchy, rafe is an undercover thirstbucket.

You'd been in the outer banks for all of five seconds and you were already bored. Your father's reasoning for dragging you and your mother along to meet his new business partner was completely lost on you but there you were.

The minute you met Ward Cameron you knew he was nothing but a suck up. Doting over your father as if he were his biggest fan, a groupie. "Your Forbes Magazine interview was one of the most excellent pieces I've read in years." "Your eye for architectural design is truly admirable." You knew his type. You hated his type.

And his son? Even worse.

Stereotypical country club trust fund loser with a god-awful superiority complex. It showed in the way he smirked as he introduced himself, offering to buy you a drink as his weirdo friends watched from the other side of the room. It made it all the more satisfying when you declined. You'd never seen someone's face fall so quickly.

You truly thought he'd take the hint and leave you alone. Maybe go report back to the goon squad with a lie in order to avoid embarrassment and a bigger hit to his ego. Wishful thinking.

"So," the southern drawl was like nails on a chalkboard. "How are you liking it here so far?"

Pulling your lips away from your martini glass, face stuck in the same blank expression it's been in since your arrival. "It's boring and the entire town smells like salty swamp water."

Rafe frowns.

"I....I guess I can see why you'd think that."

You hum, continuing to observe the party-goers around you. For it to be an event for the creme-de la-creme of Kildare, the attendees don't seem to look the part. It's not as surprising as it is disappointing.

"Your, uh, your dad tells me you're gonna be spending your summer in town. Maybe I can show you around, take you to all our hot spots."

The warning your mother always gives you about rolling your eyes so hard they'll get stuck falls on deaf ears as you do exactly that.

"Those hotspots being this country club and the gator ridden marshes you guys love to get wasted at? No thanks."

His frown gets deeper as he pauses, staring you down with narrowed eyes. "You know, I see what you're doing."

"Excuse me?"

It almost gives you whiplash with a headache to match as that insufferable smirk comes back.

"This whole uninterested shtick you got goin' on." He huffs. "It's a total facade you rich city girls like to pull to play hard to get. You almost had me fooled."

With a sigh you sit your glass down on the bar and turn to face him. "First of all, there is no facade. And second, I am not trying to fool you. I don't even like you. Just because your small town country club groupies find you and that crumb of coke under your nose attractive, doesn't mean I do."

"Aw keep goin' baby, you're only getting me more and more hard."

You scoff. "And now I'll add pervert to your long list of flaws."

"Flaws?"

"Yes," you nod with a mocking look of concern. "You have about a million, your dad actually warned us about them."

The mentioning of his father causes him to completely falter. "Wait, seriously?"

No.

"Yes and if I were you, I'd focus more on the fact that if you don't help him close this deal with my father tonight, he'll be tossing your ass for what he says will be the fiftieth time."

Just as he opens his mouth to probably curse you out in the worse way possible, Ward's voice finds its way over to the two of you.

"Rafe," he and his wife Rose stand side by side with your parents, champagne glasses in hand. "Why don't you come here for a sec, Mr. l/n has a couple of questions for ya."

Suddenly you're the one who's smirking. "You'd better go, daddy's boy. Let's see if you still have a home to go to by the end of the night."

[wonluhver]

Mingyu Focus

M = Content Warnings for Smut

! = Personal All Time Favs.

Red Card [M] - smut/fluff, non-idol au, 80s au (aesthetics only), childhood friends to lovers, oneshot.

Mingyu's been there through everything. From childhood to now. What happens when he gets hurt and someone else has to step in and play the hero?

! Clarity [M] - bf's best friend mingyu, (awkward) acquaintances to lovers, the other side of the f2l trope, angst, smut, you could say there's a drizzle of fluff, one shot. side of bad bf!jungkook.

Mingyu doesn't want to pay you any mind. To him, you're just another girl that'll get her heart broken by his dumb best friend.

Why would he care, right? He shouldn't care about the crying sounds he hears from his bedroom when his friend stands you up for the girl he's actually in love with. And he shouldn't be getting close to you. He shouldn't dread the day his friend decides to end things with you and bring someone else home. He shouldn't be wishing to have met you first.

! Save the Date [M] - smut, fluff, angst, frenemies to lovers, oneshot.

5 weddings in one year. 5 dates you saved for you and your boyfriend to attend — before he cheated. and now, you had to force your best friend, vernon, to go with you. but after losing a bet, mingyu agrees to take vernon’s place and be your date. this wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go, but you guess you could settle going with your only one-night-stand from college.

Theories and Heartstrings [M] - Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!. angst, fluff, smut. completed series.

As a writer with a mildly cynical take on love, you’ve always believed people have a “type”—a pattern they never stray from when it comes to dating. And Kim Mingyu? He’s the textbook definition of someone who wouldn’t go for someone like you, nor would you go for him. But you test your theory when a fateful run-in with your charming neighbour sparks an unexpected attraction.

The plan? Go on dates with him and count how many it takes before your heart gets involved—if it ever does. But Mingyu is unpredictable, effortlessly breaking down your carefully constructed walls with every smile, every late-night conversation, every moment that feels too easy to be just an experiment.

The real problem? Secrets never stay secrets for long. And when Mingyu finds out the truth behind your so-called theory, will it prove you right, or that love doesn’t follow the rules you thought it did?

! Again and Again [M] - exes, fake dating, mutual pining, idol!gyu, vet!reader, mild angst, fluff, smut, oneshot.

your mother calls one day, asking if you’re bringing mingyu along for chuseok this year. in your panic, you end up giving her an affirmative—never mind the fact that you and mingyu have stopped seeing each other over half a year ago.

Covert Desires - spy au, mafia, enemies to lovers, fake marriage, mutual pining, spies, angst, fluff, killing, oneshot.

he mission is simple - infiltrate a high-stakes auction that the top leaders, businessmen, women, and politicians of the world attend every year and steal one of the most highly guarded and hidden-away paintings from the target’s collection. the only downside, you had to work with kim mingyu, whom you absolutely hated. and to make it even worse, you had to pretend to be his wife for this mission to work.

! Challenge me [M] - College!Au, porn with plot(s), crack, OT13 x afab!Reader (mingyu/scoups focused), smut. unfinished series.

you have never been a person to turn down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kinda wish you were.

Wicked Games [M] - angst, fluff, smut (18+), bartender mingyu, friends to rebound fucking, no strings attached (fwb to lovers), mingyu/wonwoo focused. unfinished (? i think) series - still ongoing.

Kim Mingyu came into your life at a time when you needed a friend the most. And that he was: a friend that you could confide in and laugh together, share your secrets with and perhaps, share a burden that was too similar to his.

Kitty Claws - a svt spiderman x jujutsu kaisen au, spiderman!mingyu, blackcat!reader, lots of banter, mild fighting scenes = mentions of blood and injuries !!, fluff with angst if you squint. oneshot.

being a superhero isn't as easy as it seems, and it's even harder when you're notorious supervillain black cat with a past threatening to catch up with you and a pesky spider that won't leave you alone.

Get Him Back [M] - lead guitarist!kim mingyu x lead singer!fem!reader, romance, angst, smut (oral sex, unprotected sex (please stay safe irl!), wall sex, angry sex, overstimulation, dirty talk), exes to lovers au, band au, oneshot.

years after your messy breakup that broke up the band, you and mingyu are forced back together for a reunion tour—and the public can’t get enough of your chemistry. on stage, you’re electric, but backstage it’s all snide comments, heated arguments, and mingyu slipping in petty lyric changes just to piss you off. you’re not sure what’s worse: how much you still hate him or how much you don’t.

What Do I Call You? [M-ish] - college au, idiots friends to lovers au ; angst, fluff, suggestive ? slightly smutty? themes. football player!kim mingyu x fem!college journalist!reader. oneshot.

your best friend is a man of many facets - a creative architecture student, a skilled football player, a wonderful friend and a sought-after lover. not that he'd ever truly glance anyone's way, especially not when his heart has always been set on you.

! Dessert First [M] - baker! mingyu, wedding planner!YN, fluff, smut, angst, exes to lovers, oneshot.

You've got a great life. Your wedding planning business is booming, your clients are great, and you're finally over your ex-boyfriend after years of pining. Or you are, until the universe decides to test if those three things are actually true.

! Lost in the West [M] - fake dating (kind of), friends to lovers, holiday!au | fluff, smut, romance, oneshot.

where your best friend pretends to be your boyfriend for the holidays so you can avoid more nagging from your mother. except your whole family thought you were already dating.

!!! Kim Mingyu's (unhelpful) Guide to Losing your Virginity [M] - smut, fluff, humor, college au, best friends to lovers au, friends with benefits au, oneshot.

after accidentally telling your friends that kim mingyu took your virginity (he didn’t), you’re shocked when he proposes to relieve you of the fabled v-card for good (he does).

! The Very First Night [M] - angst, smut, exes to lovers au, roommates au. oneshot.

the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend

for my best friend who i promised i would post mingyu recs for,, youre welcome. ignore how half of these are exes to lovers, or fake dating to lovers... i'm okay...

other recs

[andy-15-07]

Can you write about PedroXreader, she has a crush on him and she tells him, he pushes her away because she is 30 but deeply he likes her too.

He gets jealous when guys approach her, and one night at a party a guy kisses her in front of him and he gets angry and leaves, she knows he is jealous so she follows him home , and things gets smutty back home?

Dont know if it made sense English is not my first language

Twenty Years Too Late

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1347| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist II

You’d been crushing on Pedro for months,ever since you’d been cast as a reporter in that indie pilot he was executive producing. His warm smile, that gravelly voice when he corrected your pronunciation of “Mandalorian,” the way he’d lean in when you told him an anecdote about your dog… all of it had you swooning. Yet every time you tried to flirt, he’d gently deflect.

Tonight, at a mutual friend’s rooftop party in LA, you decided: enough.

You found him perched on a stool near the bar, stirring his drink. He wore a simple black tee and jeans,handsome in effortless Pedro style.

“Hey,” you said, sliding onto the stool next to him.

He offered that lopsided grin. “Hey. You look… radiant, as always.”

Your heart flipped. “Can I be honest?”

“Please.” He lifted his glass, encouraging you.

You took a breath. “I have a crush on you. A big one. You’re handsome, talented, kind… and I’ve been dying to tell you.”

His smile faltered. He set down his glass. “I… you’re sweet, really.” He paused, eyes drifting away. “But I,I’m nearly twenty years older than you.”

You blinked. Twenty years older? He was fifty-two. You were thirty-two. It never felt like an age gap to you; it felt like you’d met someone who saw you. But you bit back the retort.

“Age is just a number,” you said softly.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I know what people would say. I can’t… I shouldn’t.”

Your throat tightened. “What if I don’t care what people say?”

He stood abruptly. “I’m sorry.” With that, he walked away into the crowd, leaving you stunned on the stool.

You nursed your drink, replaying the scene in your head. You hadn’t expected perfection, but his reaction stung worse than rejection. You watched him near the DJ, laughing with friends,but every few seconds he’d glance over at you, tension in his shoulders.

Then you saw the first interloper: a tall guy in a linen shirt drift over, leaning in to compliment you. You smiled politely, but the stranger reached to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. Pedro’s jaw clenched; you saw it from across the deck.

The guy’s hand lingered, his face inching closer to yours. You tensed. Pedro rose, stepping between you. His eyes were sharp, his voice low. “Everything okay here?”

The man stammered, stepping back. “Uh, yeah. Just,hi.” He smiled too broadly and backed off.

Pedro forced a polite grin for the guy, then turned to you. Heat burned behind his eyes. “Let’s get some air.”

He took your hand and led you up to the next rooftop level, away from the crowd. You followed silently, adrenaline thrumming in your veins.

He leaned against the railing, facing the city. Neon lights flickered below. After a moment, he spoke, voice tight: “You told me you liked me. Why didn’t I just stay and listen?”

You crossed your arms. “Because you were scared. You think it’s wrong.”

He gave you a sidelong glance. “Do you think it’s wrong?”

You stepped closer. “No. I think it’s… complicated.”

He looked away, jaw working. You reached up, brushed his cheek. “I’m not some kid. I’m thirty-two. I can handle the complications.”

He caught your hand in his. A tremor ran through him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You sighed, heart aching at his concern. “I’m already hurt, Pedro. But I still want this.” You pressed a kiss to his palm. “Us.”

A beat passed. Then suddenly, the distant strains of music and laughter dissolved into the night as he spun you around, pressing you against the cold metal railing. His lips crashed into yours, fierce and desperate. You melted instantly into the heat of him, arms winding around his neck, your legs kicking out until he lifted you, legs straddling his waist.

His mouth traveled down your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point. You gasped into his shirt, heart pounding. His hands roamed your back, tugging your dress hem higher, brushing the lace of your panties through the fabric.

He lifted you onto the railing, legs wrapped around him as you ground your body against his bulge. The zipper of his jeans strained in your grasp. You tilted your head back, offering more of your throat, and he obliged with hot, needy kisses.

“God, you,” he broke off, voice ragged. “You’re going to get us killed.”

You laughed breathlessly. “I don’t care.”

He fumbled with his jeans, freeing himself just enough to push into you, shallow at first. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he thrust, the cold metal railing against your back heightening every sensation.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hitting deep. “You feel amazing.”

You rolled your hips with his, meeting every thrust. The wind whipped around you, but all you felt was heat. Your breath came in short pants.

“Pedro,” you moaned, voice trembling. “I want more.”

He obliged, pulling you flush against him, driving harder now. The sound of skin meeting skin, the wet, filthy noises of it, echoed through the quiet night.

“Come on,” you whispered. “Come with me.”

He hissed in response, thrusting until your moans turned into cries. With a final, firm push, you both tumbled over the edge of control, clinging to each other as your bodies shook.

He collapsed against the railing beside you, both of you panting. He brushed a strand of hair from your face. “Why did I ever push you away?”

You laughed softly, fingertips tracing his jaw. “Because you’re a stubborn old man.”

He shot you a mock-offended look. “Hey.”

You kissed him lightly. “Thank you for this. Thank you for being jealous.”

He smiled, shadows and neon playing across his face. “Jealous? Me?”

You nodded, curling into him. “Yes. Jealous.”

He swallowed. “I… I really like you.”

Your heart soared. “I like you too.”

He kissed you then, slower this time, savoring every second, tasting you like he’d memorized every part of you.

When the party wound down, you slipped back to his place,the same you’d sneak into before dawn all summer long. The door clicked closed behind you, and suddenly it was private again.

He backed you against the door, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone. You lifted your arms, helping him unbutton your dress. It pooled at your feet. He dropped to his knees, hands skimming over your thighs.

“Can’t get enough,” he murmured, thumb brushing your clit through your panties.

You moaned. “Then don’t.”

He tugged the lace aside and enveloped you in heat, tongue swirling until you trembled. The world narrowed to just his mouth on you and your fingers threading through his hair.

When he stood again, kisses trailed up your body until he reached your lips, capturing them in a bruising kiss. His hands went under your thighs, lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around him, guiding him in.

Inside his apartment, on the carpet near the door, he moved slow at first, savoring. You ground down on him, the difference in height only making it deeper. His hands clutched at your hips, thumbs dug into your flesh.

“God, you’re so tight,” he panted.

You reached for his back, nails raking gently. “Pedro… faster.”

He obeyed, thrusting harder, deeper, the sound of your skin slapping echoing softly. You kissed him through it, tongue dueling, breath mingling.

The world dropped away as you built toward release again. He shifted, angling just right, and you both fell over the edge together, voices rising in ecstasy.

He collapsed beside you afterwards, forehead resting on yours, arms wrapped around you protectively.

“I love you,” he whispered, as if testing the words.

You traced circles on his chest. “I love you too.”

He smiled, kiss swift and soft. “Twenty years older, huh?”

You laughed. “Worth every one.”

He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Worth every second.”

And as you drifted off in his arms, the city lights outside your window flickering like distant stars, you knew this confession,and the jealousy that ignited it,had brought you both exactly where you belonged.

[multiversefanfics]

Need You To Sleep

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Warning: nothing but fluff Summary: Dean needs to hold your wrist while he sleeps to feel comfortable, your heartbeat relaxes him. Word Count: 730 A/N: Got this idea from tiktok

Dean Winchester.

The big bad hunter, the man who wouldn't think twice about killing something that posed a threat to you or hurt you, the man who sleeps with a gun under his pillow, now sleeps with your arm under his pillow. You never thought in a million years that Dean would need you to sleep, the two of you hated each other when you met, but one drunk night, he realizes he can't live without you.

The first time you and Dean slept in the same bed together, he kept his distance, he was afraid he would have a nightmare and wake you up, or worse, accidentally hit you. As the two of you slept together more and more, Dean inched closer and closer each night. One night, he was exhausted from a hunt, you were in bed looking at your laptop researching random lore to pass the time until they came back.

Dean closed your laptop, tossing it gently to the end of the bed. He crawled between your legs, laying his head on your lap. You smiled and looked down at him, running your fingers through his hair, his body melted into your lap.

"What's wrong, my love?" You cooed as you ran your fingertips down the back of his head to his neck

He mumbled incoherently against your lap. You asked him to repeat himself, but instead of responding, he simply started snoring. You smiled and continued to rub his back. Dean started to stir a bit, you helped him get onto his pillow. Once he got comfortable, his hand went straight for your wrist. You were confused at first, but you let it go.

You noticed Dean started to do it more and more. It started off as him just wanting to touch you, then it became a need. He needed to feel your heartbeat to fall asleep, he wanted to make sure you were still there with him, that you were real. He never told you that, you just sort of assumed. It became a nightly routine: the two of you would talk about your day, listen to him complain about Sam, and just be all lovey-dovey.

You turned Dean into a softie, he used to think he was all tough when in reality he was yearning to be loved and to let his soft side out for someone he loves. Dean loved the way you could easily calm him down when he was upset or pissed. No one has ever been able to do it as quickly as you do. It scared him at first, but he learned to love it.

Dean was getting ready for bed. He crawled in beside you and immediately grabbed your wrist, holding it against his cheek. You looked over at him and smiled, you weren't going to ask but you just needed to know.

"Babe, can I ask you something?" You watched as he opened one eye to look at you. "Why do you do that?"

"Do What?" He raised an eyebrow, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Hold my wrist." You looked down at your wrist, then back at Dean. "I don't want you to stop, I just wanna know why."

Dean sat up, crossing his legs together, he brought your wrist to his lips and placed a small kiss on it. He looked up at you and exhaled peacefully, a small smile forming on his lips.

"I do this because it helps me stay grounded, it helps me sleep. It shows me that this is real, and it's not some dream I'm in." He looked at Sam who was peacefully sleeping in the bed next to you.

"It makes me feel at peace knowing that you're right beside me, I love you, and I never want to be away from you." Dean placed another small kiss to your wrist, smiling against your skin.

"I love you too, baby." You leaned over and placed a soft kiss to his cheek

"Now, can we go to sleep? I am exhausted." He shot you a wink and laid back down, placing your wrist on his cheek once more.

You playfully rolled your eyes and laid down beside him, hearing what Dean said made you feel loved, it made you feel important. He made you feel needed. Dean never truly needed anyone, except for when it came to you.

A/N: This one is a little short, but i still hope you guys like it. if you want to be tagged in future fics comment here or send me a message. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. 🥰

Main Masterlist - Dean Winchester Masterlist

Taglist: @iwudbutnah @littlesoulshine @miss-marmalade @bettystonewell @cherryresidence @ambiguous-avery

[returnofeternity]

would you be willing to do post-crash nat w/ a gf who's struggling with an eating disorder? i loveee comfort fics and nat would be very understanding i feel

a/n: hope i did your request some justice! i have binge eating disorder but i feel like i can never write about this sort of stuff because my feelings are blehhhh. and i also know everyone has it different so i hope you can relate at least a little <3 apologies for it being so short bc i wanted to do it but i just couldn't think of anything :/

;

maybe you were there in the wilderness with her, or maybe you developed it (or it got worse) while you thought she was dead for almost a year.

either way, she's there for you like the amazing gf she is. she's so unfortunately the type to remind you to take care of yourself while ignoring her own health :( especially post-crash for sure. both of you struggle with eating, but she tries to. for you. whenever you offer her something, she takes a small nibble just to see you smile even if it makes her nauseous.

think she picks up on it right away. you look different. you feel different, like you're pulling away. you've been skipping meals or making excuses as to why you're not hungry. at first, she understood. she was the same when she got back. she'd go between not eating for days and then binging her old favorites because she was just starving. but it made her feel like trash.

she's there holding you when things get really bad. when days just feel like too much. maybe you overate and feel like you failed, or maybe you just need the comfort of your girlfriend because your mind is overwhelmed with how bad/how much you're eating.

she's there helping you not think about food too much. tries to distract you with her silly jokes or takes you out on walks because you both need the fresh air. she's there taking your phone from your hand if you ever try to compare yourself to some model with millions of followers on instagram, but she never makes you feel like you did wrong.

she never makes you feel bad for your eating disorder. she's very understanding, just tries to instill in your mind that you're perfect the way you are without making it feel like she's trying to lecture you, you know? she doesn't want it to feel like she's disappointed in how you treat your body. she gets it. she gets that it's hard to change your mindset, and she's there with you every step of the way. she's there when you fail, holding you and comforting you when you lash out and yell at her because you feel worthless, and she's with you when you start to make progress.

[bookhobbit]

hypermobility-related pain will make you aware of ligaments you didn't even know you had. got me googling stuff like "elbow nerve map" or "foot anatomy" to figure out which is the problem child because i do not know what that guy is called

[jasminedragonart]

I just saw a post about why someone doesn't like the water and fire nation war swap au's and, extremely valid. It's not for everyone and I think a few of them do just try to blatantly swap the roles of Zuko and Azula with Sokka and Katar.

But I can also see a world where they did swap and this is literally how I think it could have gone down. (this is one of the au's that lives rent free in my head).

So, the water and fire nations don't swap exactly. what happens is that there was the start of the 100 year war but at some point the water tribe went to war and won against the fire nation. because of the atrocities the fire nation have caused up to this point they see themselves as a sort of force of keeping the fire nation in check. the water tribes literally gain control of the seas, isolating the fire nation onto their islands.

Now, a lot of time has passed and the fire nation has tried to gain their freedom back- because the water tribe put STRICT rules about their travel across the other nations- and they're in an alliance with the earth kingdom to fight the water nations.

Now this isn't the water tribe that we know and love. These people have been hardened by water tribe propoganda. They believe they HAVE to keep the other nations in check so there isn't another genocide and if a few fire nation soldiers have to die for this to happen then so be it. But, all it takes is for the wrong person to get in power. For the Fire Nation this was Sozin, Azulon and Ozai. For the Water Tribe it could be some other generals, it doesn't HAVE to be Hakoda or Arnook. Especially for Hakoda since he's the chief but it's an elected position (I think? otherwise I think Hakoda's dad would have to be chief before him since Kanna is from the Northern Water Tribe). Some other guy could be in power anyway and Hakoda could just be a general following orders.

The only way the redemption of the water tribe works is if Katara and Sokka stay true to who they are in canon. Katara needs to get over her firebender prejudice. Sokka needs to go through his feminist arc. But in the meantime we do have one of the youngest, brightest war generals in Sokka and a bloodbender in Katara who can and will use their powers to keep anyone from the fire nation and now earth kingdom in check.

On the reverse, Zuko and Azula will be slightly different but that's due to the environment they grow up in. In canon they grow up privileged and while abused there is that safety net of the palace and guards to fall back on. In the reverse au they are still wealthy but their status is significantly limited. They're only powerful within the fire nation. Worse, they're targets for the water nation and Ozai is an idiot so of course he's going to try and put his kids on the line to win a slither of power.

Zuko and Azula are still themselves basically but the only difference is that they believe in the freedom of the world and not just the fire nation. In fact, if you want to make them both still believe in the fire nation you can do that. This can be a redemption arc for everyone.

the point is, as soon as Aang is out of that ice bubble his job is still the same, the only difference is he's working with two fire nation royals he needs to speedrun to get some empathy and then tackle the other two hunting them down.

You can have your cake and eat it, you just need to change the stakes.

[belladonna-official]

Ra’s Al-Ghul As Fright Knight

_______  

I need an Dc x Dp AU where Ra’s dies pretty young (before the whole League of Assassins thing) and gets sent to the Infinite Realms, where he meets Danny (Ghost King probably) and Danny chooses him as his Fright Night. (Fright Knight has finally decided to take a vacation)

————————————

Getting stabbed in the neck by desert mercenaries while building his new Assassin’s Guild around the glowing life pits was not how he expected to die. Waking up to Green Skies and Floating islands was also something he wasn’t expecting. People floating around with a green glow was the last thing he expected but he’s learned to not act surprised at this point.

‘But where is this place? Is this the afterlife? It better not be. I just finished my training. I can’t just die.’

His answer came in the form of a green glowing half-man, half-camel challenging him to a fight.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The next thing he learned was the rules of this afterlife.

Never ask a ghost about how they died.

There is a Hierarchy with the ghost king and Ancients at the top.

Brawls and Duels are ways of forming bonds

Ghosts can always feel your intentions

That last rule really annoyed Ra’s. He couldn’t actively manipulate anyone here unless they were lower in the hierarchy. Which as much as he loathed to admit it, he was extremely low on food chain. People called him called him a baby ghost, which was ridiculous. He is Ra’s Al-Ghul, The Demon Head, not some lowly baby that needed to be taken care of. Every ghosts that tried to “adopt him” was swiftly taken care of by own hand. If he is to be a baby, he would rather be an orphan. He didn’t train in deadly martial arts, just to be considered weak. If he couldn’t manipulate his way through the hierarchy, he would just have to brute force it.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The King had made a decree.

“No Ghost is allowed out of the Infinite Realms for your own safety. If anyone is found outside the realms, you shall be severely punished.” 

He thought it was ridiculous that every single ghost followed the Kings orders, even his own stupid body. But according to the ghosts he fought, every few weeks, the Ghost King was beloved by all. He beat the old tyrant king through a ‘right by conquest’ and has been a benevolent leader ever since, ruling for over 50 years now. 

Ra’s didn’t believe it for one second. He may have started out as a benevolent leader but even they eventually turn into tyrants. Hell, even Ra’s was like that at some point, when he still used to be ‘The Physician’. He’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop. For their benevolent ruler to take a turn for the worse.

For now he was willing to live the rest of his days, training on the floating island he managed to get when winning a duel a few weeks ago. He honestly didn’t have anything better to do.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Something feels….wrong. There is a weight in the air. It was light at first but as the day progressed, it became heavier and colder. It weighed him down as he walked but Ra’s wasn’t the type of person to be pressed into submission. He powered through. 

As he was tending to his flowers in the garden, he felt the weight, press down on him again. It wrapped around his neck like a viper, tightening each second. He looked up to see a white blur speed through the air and towards his island. 

Ra’s grabbed the sabre that was always next to him and climbed his way up a tree, turning on his invisibility. He watched as the white mass slowed to a stop high in the sky before slowly descending, their boots barely touching the ground. Ra’s could finally see what the white mass was. It seemed to be a giant fur coat with white hair. There was a silver thing floating on its head but Ra’s couldn’t make it out properly. The strange ghost looked left and right, presumably looking for something or someone.

‘They look really official, like that prison Warden. Is this thing here to finally punish me for my crimes in the living world?’

Ra’s wasn’t going to take that chance, jumping off of the tree branch he was on, he dropped his invisibility as he swung sabre straight at the unknown ghost. The Ghost looked around once more before turning and looking straight at Him. Direct eye contact. Its eyes were an unsettling shade of green. It reminded him of a colour that had long since faded in his memory. The Pits.

Ra’s felt his body freeze. His sabre was inches away from the ghosts eye. The ghost didn’t even react. Ra’s quickly jumped away to put a distance between himself and the other ghost. He didn’t waste time (not that he had any to begin with) and quickly went invisible. His heart was racing, even he wasn’t supposed to have a heartbeat. The ethereal ghost’s eyes followed his movements, so he did the next best thing and duplicated himself, a tried and true distraction.

“Oh My?” Their voice was soft and melodic but was also cold like ice. Their eyes darted around following his duplicates even though they were invisible . ‘There an opening!’ Ra’s was able to get in front of him, swinging his sabre again. Only for the ghost to catch it with his bare hand. A small stream of green blood flowed down from his palm. The other ghost smiled at their feet sight. 

Ra’s felt the pressure weigh down on him again, causing him to crash into the floor. He could barely stand up, only managing to get to his knees. His limbs felt weak, his breath heavy, he felt dizzy and nauseous.

“It’s been a long time since someone has been able to stand in my presence, let alone attack me.” The voice was once again soft and melodic but it was also much warmer than before as if it was amused.

The other Ghost floated a couple of steps forward stopping right in front of him. Ra’s stared at their boots, his heart racing again, his face red in embarrassment at being defeated so easily. The boots finally touched the ground. Their boots were pristine white, with silver detailing and crystals. As his gaze wandered up, the boots faded from white to black and stopped at his thighs. He wore a white body suit with a black corset. There was a symbol on his chest that Ra’s didn’t recognise but seemed to combine the English letters of ‘D and P’. His shoulder were covered with a giant white fur coat, that displayed a dark moving galaxy on the inside. 

Ra’s eyes landed on his face. He felt his breath slipping away. He was so beautiful. A pretty tan complexion with smooth skin and freckles, pointed ears which had star earrings and beautiful green eyes. His white hair, long and soft looking with a white vail on it. A silver crown engulfed in crystal blue flames floated above his head.

“Your Majesty…” Ra’s whispered his brain finally catching up to who this person was.

“Ra’s Al-Ghul…” The King extended his white gloved hand. 

“Would you do me the honour of being my Fright Knight.”

Ra’s felt his whole world freeze.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

I need this AU version of Ra’s to meet Cannon verse and just raised an eyebrow at him and stick his nose up in disgust. Or when Danny arrives at the Watchtower, everyone is confused and concerned about Ra’s Al-Ghul (even though he is clearly younger) being there. Until Danny explains that this Ra’s is chill.

Danny and Ra’s Pull up like this.

[dxmedstudent]

I 100% buy that it's Right Wing propaganda. One thing I hate about the "birth control is all bad" crowd is they act like having side effects or not working for everyone is somehow special and unique to birth control.

Like. No. Pretty much every medication has some potential side effects. Some are more common than others. Some medications may have more severe risks. But this is just an inherent risk that comes with taking anything - except it's USUALLY overall better to take the medication than go without.

There's this weird trend to tell people to come off BC just to 'rest their body', but honestly? Unless you're about to try for a baby there's really no need. If it's working for you, and the side effects are manageable for you, then its cool. Coming off hormonal BC if you like getting dick...without rigorously using condoms every single time WILL lead to pregnancy for over 80% of people, within a year. Each year that they have unprotected sex.

Maybe one day we'll be able to do pharmacogenetic testing or pharmacogenomic testing on a wide scale and work out which blood blood pressure medication or antidepressant or BC will work best for a patient - I've been hoping for this since my undergrad biomedicine days. But until then all we have is experience and trial and error and patience - and listening to patients, to try to work out what will work best for them. And it's imperfect, and sometimes clinicians can be AHs. But overall most of the time people are trying to do the right thing for people.

The side effects of BC are VERY similar to those of pregnancy - except pregnancy has higher risks overall. And for most people it's OK. For some people it's great - I didn't love my hair thinning or having the odd irregular bleed on the implant but I DID love not having really heavy or painful periods, my endo and fibroids improving, and not having to worry about a pregnancy at the wrong time. It's a very important treatment for a lot of us with conditions affecting our uterus, ovaries, and body outside of that. People demonise BC as if it isn't potentially life saving treatment for some of us, as well as something that improves QOL for a lot of us.

Some people truly are unlucky and don't do well with any hormonal BC, and that sucks, this is not to discount their pain - I'm very much in favour of more BC options for testicle-havers, letting people get their tubes tied early whatever their gonads, and people inventing even more forms of BC. The fact that they aren't perfect or risk free treatments isn't a reason that everyone should come off them, or that they should be demonised. There are lots of different ones to try from, most people can find something that works for them. We even have websites that will try to work out the ones most likely to work for you.

And unfortunately, "natural alternatives" just aren't there yet. The copper IUD is great for some people but obviously not the right choice for everyone - particularly if they already have painful or heavy periods as they can often make that worse.

The fertility awareness method (trying to avoid having sex during your fertile time) isn't great for anyone with an irregular cycle or who isn't also tracking their LH (peeing on a stick for at least week every month) or their basal body temperature (which you need to track every day) and cerical mucus (how much do you like staring at vaginal seretions? you'll be seeing them a lot). And its fail rate with typical use is similar to withdrawal, making around 1/5 of couples into parents for each year it is used. If combined with condoms and done consistently it CAN be reasonably effective for some people whilst they get experienced at it, but multiple people have sued period tracking apps for false claims that they can reliably help you prevent pregnancy.

Condoms are OK (typical fail rate of 15% in a year) but for some of us that doesn't feel reliable enough on its own - and you're allowed to combine non-hormonal contraceptives with other non hormonal options or a hormonal option.

But we should be extremely suspicious of anyone telling us to detox from BC as if hormones are a toxin. What are their qualifications? Why are they telling us this? What is their agenda? Are they the same people whining about the crashing birth rate and how we should all be tradwives? Why are we listening to them over actual clinicians? Because they are almost always also anti-choice and looking to control your body and tell you how to live your life.

In the UK where I work as a doctor, we noticed an uptick in pregnancies around the time that 'BC is unnatural, cleanse your body of BC to balance your hormones" became a thing. And whilst on an individual level this probably led to as lot of stress for the people who fell for the hype, at least abortion remains generally readily available via MSI, NUPAS and BPAS - I imagine the effect in places where abortion has been criminalised could potentially be catastrophic. I genuinely think this trend will (and almost certainly already HAS) led to more abortions and more unwanted pregnancies.

The funniest part of the “ummmm actually ☝️🤓 birth control can be REALLY bad for you” responses on my ‘hey I think the current health fad demonization of hormonal birth control is right wing propaganda’ post is that I can’t take hormonal birth control. It reacts badly with my body’s chemistry. But I am wise enough to understand that it is a lifesaving medication for many people and encouraging people to get off birth control if it is working for them with no adverse reactions is bad. Birth control is bad for me and it can have terrible side effects but the potential of pregnancy and periods are worse for many people.

[dastardly-imbecile]

TENEBROSITY

TW: suicidal ideation, depictions of death and grief

wordcount: 1.3k

masterlist, ao3

something something reader who dies. Doesn't particularly matter if she was a soldier or a civilian, if it was the blur of battle or the quietus of an accident, if it was a bullet or a blade or the cruel hand of Fortuna. Out with a bang, out with a whimper.

What does matter is that Simon, predictably, takes it not well. Worse that Price puts him on leave, and he has nothing to do but lay spread-eagled on the bed you once shared, stare at the ceiling and quietly thinks about the knives in the kitchen, about the pills in the cabinet. Not with any real sort of action behind the notion, but just the everpresent reality that they're there, that he can take the kind way out. The only thing that stops him, really, is that he knows if there is an afterlife, he sure as hell isn't going where you are.

Between the team's sporadic visits, Kyle's attempts to set him up with a therapist and Johnny's attempts to cheer the grief out of him and Price's attempts to have a normal conversation - as if normalcy exists, anymore - he takes to scrolling through your old messages. Little lines of text: years of love encapsulated in a single bubble, such small things. Messages that he once only spared a seconds' glance before responding, he now spends hours poring over, trying to find the secret to mortality etched into those pixels.

Still has your phone, too. Leaves your search tabs untouched, leaves your apps opened just as they were, just like your products still litter the bathroom counter, just like he put your half-finished leftovers in the freezer, cold and permanent as the dead.

It's not healthy, but he's never been healthy. Not a moment in his life: not his childhood, not the military, not now, in which there was not something, someone, searching for the best way to break him; best way to put those pieces back together and shatter them again. The only difference, this time, is that both are him: something about Ouroboros, something about Sisyphus.

He starts texting you again. Long, incoherent paragraphs about how much he misses you; simple love yous, all the hundreds that he never got to say. He could have told you ten times a day, for a thousand years, and he would still have so much more. Calls your voicemail, just to hear your voice once again, so he can pretend you're just out of the house, that you'll truly call him back 'whenever I'm able'.

Imagine his surprise when, one night, he sends a succinct, goodnight dove, and you reply.

I love you.

Of course, he's pissed: someone gets your number by some means, not only uses it - if they'd told him, fuck off, who are you, stop texting me - he could have has a modicum of respect, at the very least. But no: they imitate, they paint themselves in the image of a Goddess; something about Exodus 20:4, something about the Viceroy butterfly.

It pushes him into overdrive for the first time since you died - he pulls up the old software, hooks the phone up, tries to triangulate the location of the sender. All he gets, though, is a jumble of letters and numbers that apply to no coordinate on earth.

And then, you call him. Your name popping up drives into him an anguish deep enough to burn, moreso when he checks your phone, sees it just as inert since the day you died.

He shouldn't, but he answers.

When you say, "Simon," he's thinking about how he'd most like to kill these people: sure, get a number, hook up some voice changer, real convincing. It's going to fall apart when you beg him to send you a couple thousand dollars, or when you dig into him for some bit of intel: he won't be tricked, won't allow grief to break his last bit of dignity, sell his soul for a bit of false love.

And then, you tell him the last words you ever said to him. Same voice, same tone. Murmer more, as he sits there, shock dripping down every vertebrae in his spine. All the things you would whisper to each other in the dead of night. End your speech with a short, "It's me. I love you. I found a way..."

So for a week or two, it's almost enough: he spends every waking hour on the phone with you, sends you all the pictures he can think to take. It's fine that you never respond with any of your own. It's fine that, sometimes, on those phonecalls, you sound scared or sad or start halting, unfinished sentences with, I wish, or, if only. He can pretend that you're off on a trip, that this is some temporary fever.

Only, he can't, not really. Something about truffle pigs, something about pitbulls: something about the desire to dig, to sink his teeth into the meat of the matter and rip until bone is caught between his jaws. Whenever he asks you about how, or where, or, can I ever see you, you sound like you're crying while you deftly avoid answering.

Really, you have only divulged two things: one, you dying won't help. Two, when he visited your grave for the first time since your death: I'm not down there anymore, Simon.

A fantasy grows, some reversal of the five stages of grief, denial come last: he imagines that maybe you aren't dead, that maybe you were captured by some nebulous force of evil, are currently holed up in some dark basement. Got your hands on a phone somehow, sure, if it doesn't make sense then it will when he rescues you, when you explain it to him between kisses.

He gathers the rest of the task force at his - your - house, despite your pleas not to. Tells them. Almost relishes in Johnny's look of disbelief, in Price's evident concern - because he'll be proven right. Right, when he clicks the call button, when...

When it rings, and rings, and rings, and goes to voicemail. He swipes to your messages, but all are gone, all your responses wiped away to apepar one sided.

He's not a stupid man. Anticipated something like this, maybe - but the screenshots he took are nothing but black space, and the recordings of your voice carry naught but the sound of his own breathing, and before he can do something, anything, to prove this, Price has a hand upon his back and Kyle is saying something and he tears away, shuts himself in your room. Calls you four times, while they talk quietly outside. It's not until the fifth - after the front door closes - that you pick up.

"I'm sorry," you say, "I'm sorry, Simon, I... I came back for you, just you, came back..."

The wave of reality ebbs, flows. It's not all bad, eventually. Some days, he spends curled around your old pillow - which smells more like him, than you, at this point - while you whisper filthy words through the tinny speakers, rutting into the fabric. He tries to do the same to you, but you never make the same sounds you used to, and when he tries to ask about your body, your pleasure, you devolve into low notes of grief.

Maybe it's better this way. Maybe it's worse. Something about the carrot and the stick, something about Tantalus, ankle-deep in water.

Something about the inability to move on: about you, stuck wherever you are, ephemeral, blind and senseless but for your voice. About him, hand perpetually upon the phone, ignoring the calls of his team, caught upon the half-death he's able to live.

About a hunger and a pinprick of light and the world as it darkens, the crepuscule of existence.

[gothicpaperback]

THE WAY HE CARES | PART THREE

<<< PART TWO | PART FOUR: COMING SOON >>>

wc: 2,1k | rating: 18+ for eventual smut | Joel Miller x You | Enemy Pregnancy

summary: Joel Miller has been my pain-in-the-ass neighbour for years. we argue more than we speak and when we do speak, it's usually through gritted teeth. but when my doctor tells me my fertility’s running out of time, panic sets in. I want a baby and I don’t have the luxury of waiting around for Mr. Right. Joel's a damn good father to his daughter, Sarah. that much, I can’t deny. so one night, fuelled by nerves and just the right amount of wine, I ask him the unthinkable: get me pregnant. no strings.no romance. just biology. i never planned on falling for him. but nothing about Joel Miller ever goes according to plan.

while the story is first person narrative, the OC female character is YOU. she is not named and barely physically described aside from being able bodied and having hair long enough to grab.

tags/warnings: neighbours, enemies to lovers, comedy, smut, sexual tension, mentions of fertility and reproductive issues, mentions of drugs and alcohol. i will add more tags as they become relevant.

taglist: @himboelover | @harrypotteranna23-blog | @isabella-rose-trastamara | @ro4nix | @sunndroppp | @harriedandharassed

THE WAY HE CARES | PART THREE

I woke up with my cheek pressed against Joel’s shoulder and a dull, jack hammering throb behind my eyes. The house was too bright, the air too stale, and I could taste bad beer, whiskey and regret on my tongue.

Joel stirred beside me, groaning low in his throat.

We sat up at the same time, groaning in stereo, both of us squinting like hungover goblins in a cave.

“God,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes. “Did we drink my entire liquor cabinet?"

I blinked down at the coffee table. There, half-slid under an empty bottle, was the notepad we’d used last night. I pulled it toward me, hoping for a tidy list of logical, emotionless ground rules.

They started out like that, but quickly devolved the sloppy handwriting and barely legible notes. 

Number twelve: No weird eye contact Number nineteen: Joel is banned from singing lullabies. Number thirty: Must never tell the kid Joel thinks birds are government drones

I stared at it. Then held it up, deadpan. “You got sentimental.”

Joel squinted at it, then snorted. “That was you. You started writing names after your fourth beer.”

“Lies. You said the name Joel Jr was great because we can call him JJ.’”

“Yeah, and I stand by it,” he said, then scrubbed a hand over his face. “But you also said, and I quote, ‘He’s going to be the most emotionally stable Capricorn in the Western Hemisphere.’”

I winced. “I hate me.”

He let out a dry laugh, then leaned back against the couch with a long sigh.

“Anyway,” I said, voice turning more pointed as I dropped the notepad back on the table, “none of it matters. You don’t get a say in anything, remember? That was the agreement.”

Joel’s head turned slowly toward me. His jaw tensed.

“I know that,” he said, clipped. “You were the one who started jotting down nursery colours like we were designing a joint Pinterest board.”

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t kept saying, ‘You know what this kid needs?’ like you were pitching a product-”

“Oh, forgive me for trying to make conversation while donating my future genetics.”

“Donating? You made it sound like I won a sweepstakes.”

“I mean, clearly I was drunk enough to forget you’re still impossible.”

“Right back at you, Joel.”

We glared at each other. The warm fuzzy truce from last night had vanished like beer foam, replaced by familiar, petty tension that somehow felt even worse with a hangover.

Then Joel's phone buzzed with a text from Joel’s daughter’s contact name: SARAH.

> Mom’s dropping me off in an hour. Can we get donuts after??

Joel groaned again, this time with feeling. “Sarah’s coming back this morning. She cannot see me doing the walk of shame out of your house.”

"Not to mention that bitch Phelps across the street." 

I stood up, already formulating a plan that absolutely shouldn’t have made as much sense as it did. 

"We need to get you out without anyone seeing.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of plan are we talking about here?”

Ten minutes later, Joel stood in my kitchen wearing a hoodie so tight on him it barely reached his wrists, a baseball cap pulled low, and sunglasses that belonged to my last regrettable ex. He was also wearing some of my hair extensions shoved under the cap, trailing around his stubbled cheeks. 

“This is your plan?” he asked, deadpan.

“You need to look like some loser I'd date. Dressed like that no one is gonna think you're Joel Miller, helpful

"No, they’re gonna think, drug dealer, let's call the cops." 

"So walk fast." 

Joel muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "fuckin' nutjob."

I peeked through the blinds. Across the street, his porch was still empty. No sign of Sarah or her mom’s car yet, but that didn’t mean the coast was clear.

“Okay,” I said. “You go down the side yard, cut behind the Petersons’ hedges, and take the long route around the back of the Culvers’ place. Then you cross diagonally to your garage from the alley side.”

“This is not a bank heist, it’s suburban espionage,” he grumbled, but he adjusted the cap on his head and followed me out the side door anyway.

We crept along the fence line like two criminals breaking out of a Hobby Lobby. At one point, Joel tripped over a lawn gnome and I had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep him from swearing loud enough for the birds to file a noise complaint.

As we passed behind the Petersons’ rose bushes, we both froze. Mr. Peterson was in the driveway, adjusting his sprinkler.

I hissed, “Act natural.”

Joel straightened his spine as I practically shouted. "Thanks for the delivery GrubHub guy. Your tip has been added!" 

Mr. Peterson frowned over at us. 

“Oh hi, Mr Peterson,” I shouted, yanking Joel by the arm and speed-walking toward the Culvers’ back fence. "Just thanking the Food delivery guy!" 

Mr. Peterson just nodded incredulously before going back to fixing his sprinkler. 

“This is humiliating,” Joel muttered.

“You’re welcome.”

Joel was sweating and glaring, but we were unseen. He darted down the alley, across to his backyard.

I was about to leave when Sarah's mom pulled up. 

"Shit." 

I watched the teen give her mom a kiss before grabbing her backpack. 

"See you next weekend, mom!"

"Bye honey!"

Joel was still halfway through his backyard when her mom's car took off. I was standing on the sidewalk pretending to check my mail. 

I panicked, knowing that if Sarah turned around right this second she would see her dad creeping through the hedges like a demented pervert. 

"Sarah!" I screeched. 

When he heard my scream, Joel tugged the hat, hair and glasses from his head. His real hair was a mess and he looked like he’d aged five years in ten minutes.

Sarah was peering at me from across the street. "Yeah?"

"Uh, come here a second." 

Sarah looked a bit confused but she did so, shooting me a smile. "Good morning."

I watched Joel from the corner of my eyes, smiling at Sarah. He was inching towards his side door. 

"I just wanted to say, Sarah, that I think you are a great kid." 

Sarah beamed up at me, all bright teeth and shiny eyes. "Thank you ma'am."

"Oh please, call me by my name," I said distractedly, my eyes on Sarah but my focus on Joel. 

"Uh, did you need anything?" Sarah asked after an uncomfortable moment of silence. 

Joel was so close. Just a few seconds more. I panicked. 

"I wanted to have you over for a cookout. This week. My place. Do you like mushroom burgers?" 

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," Sarah said slowly. 

Joel was at the side door now. He gave me one last look, equal parts annoyed and begrudgingly impressed before he slipped inside. 

"Anyway, something to think about," I said far too loudly. "Bye Sarah! Lovely to see you!" 

I smiled hard, turned on my heel, and marched back to my house with Sarah waving after me. 

Disaster averted.

Ten minutes and two huge glasses of orange juice later, an alert popped up on my phone. 

> Guess our drunk selves wanted us to be in contact

A blurry selfie was saved under his name in my contact list.

Joel 'Babydaddy' Miller. 

Jesus. 

>At least they did us one solid. 

> Considering your devious little plan today I'm surprised we didn't do something worse

I watched the dots bounce as he formulated his response, biting my thumb nail and grinning at the screen.

>You’re terrifying when you’re organized.  >And you’re welcome for your spotless suburban reputation.

I imagined I could hear his chuckle across the street. His smile and perfect teeth. 

> Sarah mentioned something about a cookout this week?  > Oh right. I panicked. Sorry.  >It's fine. I'll make up an excuse. 

For some reason I felt a little deflated at the response but I couldn't pinpoint why. All I knew was that I needed this conversation to end. 

> I want my hoodie back by the way. Have a good week. 

And just like that, we were back to whatever the hell this was, two enemies playing house in the dumbest possible way.

[inexplicifics]

I am not either of the relevant nonny-mouses, but having just caught up en-masse on your answered asks, as well as read "So That You Can Make Anew", my brain is playing with the combined implications of your answers to Greenestcoat on June 4 about kids at Kaer Morhen, the anon ask on the same day about kids who can't handle the testing potion, the anon ask on June 25 about Maja and her parents, and the anon ask on June 25 about your vague plotbunny about Lambert/Aiden/Milena/Sasha (aka "LAM(b)S", for short) as coparents.

Like, it's been clear policy for years, at least, to only take orphans as prospective Witchers, in order to ensure that they don't retain any loyalty to anyone besides the Wolf. This makes complete sense, given the tenuousness that marked the early days of the Wolflands existence.

But Eskel is right in STYCMA: as an established ruler, the Wolf is in *dire* need of more Witchers. And if the Wolflaw is truly more than a flash-in-the-pan, that need will not diminish any time soon - not "soon" by human standards (years), and not "soon" by Witcher standards (decades) either. This is a need that's here to stay, as long as the Wolflaw is, and that could be *centuries*, if they do it right.

As Michal, Erik, and Nolan explained to Cahir, a Witcher with known family ties outside the Wolf's court - or, even worse, outside the Wolflands - is a liability, plain and simple. Divided loyalty *cannot* be tolerated, with everything it has come to mean to be a Witcher. And so by design, all prospective Witcher Trainees are orphans, with no connections outside Kaer Morhen.

But. I, personally, would posit that there's one profile for a prospective Witcher Trainee whose loyalty would be even more assured than "orphans rescued from awful facilities", and that is: a child whose family (living or dead) has been in service to the Wolf for generations.

Like, the first humans began arriving to swear to the Wolf in 1224-1227. In 1243, where the timeline currently stands, there could well be servants' children who are in their mid-to-late-teens, which means Kaer Morhen could theoretically be only a handful of years from the birth of its first children who will be *second*-generation servants of the Wolf. With the way servants are treated in the Wolflands, I have to believe they'll be raised with full, true, undivided loyalty to the Wolf. Why, then, should they be barred from becoming Witchers?

Semi-relatedly, if LAM(b)S were to end up as a Coparenting Quartet, the opaque nature of Witcher "family structures" (even in the eyes of some Wolflands nobles who don't spend much time at Kaer Morhen, let alone those outside the Wolflands) means that, just to be sure nobody gets offended, the child will essentially be considered the heir to:

Lambert, one of the Wolf's own closest brothers, equivalent in rank to a duke in his own right

Aiden, one of the leading members of the Cat clan, and quite frankly one of the most charismatic Witchers overall, at least a marquess

Milena (formerly of Roggeven), chief Lady-in-Waiting to the Wolf's heir, sister to the Queen Consort of Temeria, and claimed as sister by the Wolf himself

Aleksander (formerly of Velen), one of the Wolf's hand-picked instructors for his Witchers, and who may well end up becoming one of the Wolf's chief diplomats

That child, in other words, will be perceived as *incredibly* high-ranking by anyone and everyone outside the Wolf's Court. Probably the highest-ranked child of Kaer Morhen after Princess Cirilla. And so, in their minds, I have to imagine it would be deeply strange for that child *not* to be "elevated" to the status of Witcher.

(Not to mention that, while I'm sure that child would inherit some degree of Witcher STI from the combination of Aiden's impact on Sasha's genes/Lambert's impact on Milena's genes, Milena's bloodstream during pregnancy, and Milena's milk when the child is nursing; those sources will only be relevant for the first couple years of the child's life. In order to avoid the angst-fest of LAM(b)S being almost-certain to outlive their beloved child, as far as I can tell, that child either has to take a Witcher as lover, or become a Witcher themselves.)

((*Also* not to mention that, while Twice-Grassed Geralt will probably live however long he wants to, and Cirilla's magic means she'll also live a *very* long time, we all know Accidents (and Assassinations) Happen. As things stand now, in my eyes there really isn't anyone who could hold the Wolflands in the long run, if something were to happen to the Wolf and his Cub: Jaskier isn't a Witcher; Eskel *is*, and is the Right Hand to the Wolf as well, but doesn't have the personality to handle being an emperor without it destroying him; Vesemir is too old and weary; Lambert is too much of an ass; and those would be the *best* possibilities. Essentially, where there is a throne, it is always preferable that there be an Heir *and* a Spare. And I think a child of LAM(b)S - who would be the Wolf's nibling, and cousin to Princess Cirilla - would be raised with the right skills and values to handle ruling the Wolflands, if it were necessary. That is, as long as they were a Witcher themselves.)

IDK, I have spent A Lot of time thinking about the long-term sociological ramifications of the establishment of the Wolflands. Which, to be clear, I'm able to do because of the beautiful depth and complexity and detail you've been able to include in your writing of the AWAU, which I love and admire so much. And so this is super long and rambling, and I apologize for blowing up your Ask box. And I wish you all health and happiness, and hope all your plot bunnies cooperate with you soon!

I am delighted that the AWAU provides scope for this level of consideration!

And yes, I suppose a child of the LAMS quartet would be a pretty good Spare for the throne of the Wolflands, if of the proper temperament.

Eligibility to become a Witcher...well, they'd have known cousins in Temeria, which could be a problem. And in Redania, for that matter, since I expect Mikolaj is going to marry and children. But their direct loyalty would absolutely be to Kaer Morhen. So it would be an interesting question.

Thank you for your kind words!

[alexseanchai]

[image 1: tweet by thisone0verhere: "TIL there is a word in ancient Greek (Kakotherēs) that means 'bad at summer' or 'unfit for summer' and it pleases me to know that this has been going on for thousands of years for I too am bad at summer"]

[image 2: part of a paragraph, transcribed below, with the word "heat" highlighted:]

For we see conception taking place in all seasons as well as being brought to a successful end. And if certain natures unfitted to endure summer hear are worse off in summer or, on the other hand, those unfitted to endure summer cold are worse off in winter, we shall not pay attention to the seasons, but rather to the specific condition of the body.

.

hey @audible-smiles do you by chance remember where you found that translation? I'm specifically after the title and translator, but if I search for that sentence without quote marks I get Ecclesiastes, and if I search with, I get fuck-all

.

I bet there's also ancient Greek wordplay about the causal relationship between hot weather and hot tempers

[jigglyjeon]

all the things she said -> jjk (three)

summary: no matter how much you want to completely disappear, you still have a bachelor’s to complete and life to uphold— you try to reach out to your friends as am attempt to piece the relationships you have with them back together, taehyung is the only one that’s willingly to meet with you.

rating: R18+ MATURE, minors please do not interact

genre: roommate au, angst, fluff, eventual smut

word count: 4.7k +

warnings/tags: taehyung is a FLURT, titty playyy, tickle attackkk, like this is just a lot of touching and jk literally blue balling himself bye, literally oh my god just kiss already!!!! things are getting hot in here aurrr

notes: i'd like to know if you guys like seeing the physical texts or if you prefer me to keep it strictly writing? does it make things confusing? would love to know cause lowkey i'm just doing it to fuck around with using smau apps LOL. thanks for all the love so far bbys <3

soundtrack: your best american girl - mitski

⋆ ࣪.  masterlist  ˖ ࣪⭑ 

<- prev | next ->

Were you that much of a drag last week?

You think you made things worse by going to that dinner, because the group chat you had with Jia and Hanna has been drier than it ever had, typically being the source of reason behind why your phone blew up with messages. But your notifications have decreased, most of your messages coming from Jungkook or your mother, but even today you don’t get the usual morning text that he usually sends you.

With your cheek pressed against the desk, you drown out the voice of your lecturer, he talked too slow for your attention span anyway and scrolled on your phone waiting for someone to reply to you. You drag your empty home screen down, waiting for something— anything.

You puff in disappointment, lock your phone and roll your head into the crook of your shoulder. A few minutes go by before your phone buzzes to life. Your head snaps up, bringing the screen to your face with hopeful eyes. Taehyung?

Unusual, but you weren’t going to be picky. You and Taehyung weren’t that close; you’ve interacted with him a lot less than you have Jimin. You only knew them through Jungkook; all his friends were older than you by a few years and there would have been no reason for you to befriend if not for him. Still, when you open up the chat you wince; you forgot that your first text comes off completely desperate for someone to validate you.

You were beginning to wonder why your actions were so painful to everyone, especially when it was your reputation that was being squandered with, not theirs. Truthfully you thought you were going to be showered with support from them, you still refused to be mad at them. You just wanted them back in your life. Maybe you were desperate.

Was it so bad to want a friend to rely upon?

You spend the rest of the lecture chewing on the back of your pen, twisting the rings around your fingers and braiding small strands of your hair. You’re one of the last people to leave the lecture hall because you hate the traffic that ensues the moment the room is dismissed; you absolutely hate pushing past people, knocking shoulders with someone who’s subconsciously fighting to get out the door before you do. You never understood why people did it, but all you knew was that it was something you hated. Patience came easy to you, but it was a foreign concept in the eyes of most, you’d noticed.

You don’t expect Taehyung to be waiting in the courtyard, cigarette between his lips as he sits on one of the benches. He nods and grins politely when someone gives him a dirty look and mutters something under their breath. He salutes, “Have a fantastic day, darling.” And she carries on by him with the same judgemental looks on her face.

He finds you soon after, coming toward him with your arms folded shyly against your chest. He raises his brows in greeting, tossing the cigarette to the concrete and putting it out with his shoe. “Hey doll, how you holdin’ up?”

You lift your arms, returning them in their crossed position. Taehyung motions you over with an outstretched arm, his other sitting cooly in the pocket of his jacket as you turn into the side hug he offers. “I feel like I’m being punished, probably.” You shrug, “Jungkook told me last night that he has feelings for me, and this morning he was gone before I even woke up, which is weird because he doesn’t start work until nine-thirty in the morning and I woke up at seven for my morning lecture.”

Taehyung lets out a low whistle, he turns, walking slow alongside your small steps. “Must’ve been some confession.”

“It wasn’t exactly the most pleasant moment.”

“How did it make you feel? Y’know, like…what did he say?”

You suck in a breath when you think back to that moment. How with each word spoken, hidden feelings and truths revealing themselves, the volume climbed, and the tone of the moment had intensified. You’ve fought with Jungkook more in the past week and a half than you have in almost two years of knowing him.

“He just–“ Your hand slithers to the back of your neck, you don’t know where to put them; your cold fingers rubbing against the warmth of your skin, sending a chill down your spine. “We were sort of arguing, and he sort just… I have feelings for you Y/N!”

Taehyung pinches the bridge of his nose, “That man has absolutely no game when it comes to you.” He mutters to himself before he looks back up at you. “I’m sure he’s just avoiding you because he’s embarrassed, too.”

You hum, “Perhaps.”

He shuffles in front of you to stop you in your tracks. “You look like you need coffee.” He says after a best of silence, “We can sit, and you can vent, and we can figure it all out together.” He removes a hand from his pocket to tap your arm, letting it swing back by his side. “Wanna?”

You look up at Taehyung curiously, searching his features that are hard, yet the gentle smile he offers you softens them subtly. There are parts of him that remind you an awful lot of Jungkook when you first met him. Jungkook was a little more sensitive, had a shorter fuse for lack of better words; it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, to feel so much— it was one of the things about him that you appreciated.

Here’s what you knew about Taehyung: He and Jungkook worked out together, like a lot. You know so not only because you’ve watched his build change from slim and fit to lean and bulky. Not only that, but Jungkook would return from the gym boasting about how much more weight he bench-pressed than Taehyung that day. Competitive— Taehyung was competitive, and you think that’s why he and Jungkook had so much fun together; because Taehyung didn’t give up and he’d put up a good fight. Taehyung was a silent observer. He spent a lot of time watching interactions between other people, his group of friends included, rather than involving himself in the interaction. He dissected body language, could read others like a book. That was slightly intimidating.

He did it now; sitting across from you, as he watched you sip on the iced coffee that he’d offered to pay for. Another thing about Taehyung was actually quite a gentleman, you never thought anything of it though. He pulls out your chair whenever you’re around to let you sit down before him, he had done so just moments prior when he handed you your drink and ushered you toward a nearby table. You’ve seen the way he offers up his spot in line for the elderly, children or women. You’d never seen anything quite like it, in all honesty. He’s nonchalant about it, too. Like it was normal. You’re starting to think that he’s a time traveller. Your eyes widen at the prospect.

“What?” He kinks a brow at you.

“Nothing.” You flash him a cheesy grin, “I sometimes just think you’re not even real.”

“…What?”

It’s not kind to compare people, is the thought you have following the one you have the moment he glares at you like you’re strange— Jungkook would have indulged you in a moment like this. He would’ve barred that charming half grin of his, lean in closer like you’re about to tell him the most interesting secret. He would’ve laughed with you, not at you.

You set down your coffee, releasing a defeated puff through your lips. “I want you to be straight with me, Tae.” You cut right to the chase. “Was what I did really that bad?”

“The way I see it, it’s been the ultimate test of friendship and loyalty.” He shrugs like it wasn’t the most hard-hitting thing he’s said to you all day. “Weeds out the fake ones.”

“I honestly think you’re the victim in all of this, it was your body and your picture after all.”

You look down, slowly nodding as you take in the weight of his words. A part of you already knew he was right, but the people-pleasing part of you wanted to see things from another point of view. “I don’t know, I think I still wish I made different decisions.”

“I get it, shits hard. Feelings suck; people suck— life’s unfair.”  His fingers tap against the table, pulling his back off the chair. You whine, your face falling into your hands. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

The moment he stops the car; he’s already getting out and rushing over to the passenger’s side before you can even reach for the door handle. You snort, slump back into the seat, when he opens the door, he offers a boxy grin that makes you roll your eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of opening a car door, you know?”  

“Sure you are, doll. But look at it this way; why do anything if someone else can do it for you?”

 With that you climb out of the car, inhaling deeply when the air hits your face again, there was nothing quite like it; when you’re starting to feel a little too warm, and the freshness of the air is crispy and clean against your hot cheeks. It makes you smile, and you take slow steps toward the front door to the complex, Taehyung stops just below the few steps, holding onto the railing.

“I know we don’t know eachother that well, but” He moves up the steps, inching closer, stopping just below where you stood.  “–I’m here if you ever need me.”

His scent was soft; aldehydic and comforting in a way a storm was on a Sunday night, curling up in bed with your window cracked open just slightly. You take a step back, but he fills the space you leave the moment you move. You blink up at him as his eyes flicker over your features.

A car door slamming shut makes you jump, pulling you both from the moment. Strange.

Taehyung turns with a furrowed brow, but it relaxes the moment he sees who comes toward them, satchel slung over his shoulder, the sleeves of his dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows. He shakes his hair with his hand, stops in his tracks when looks up at the two people blocking his way inside.

He blinks, first at Taehyung and then at you. He deflates, looking like a kicked puppy when you look down the moment his eyes meet yours. “What are you doing here?” Is the first thought that slips out.

“Y/N needed a friend.” He shrugs cooly, moving past Jungkook with a pat to the shoulder. He flinches at the contact, a hand coming up to rub at his shoulder.

“That hurt…”  He mumbles. Jungkook back at his friend with a frustrated expression.

The moment he stops the car; he’s already getting out and rushing over to the passenger’s side before you can even reach for the door handle. You snort, slump back into the seat, when he opens the door, he offers a boxy grin that makes you roll your eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of opening a car door, you know?”  

“Sure you are, doll. But look at it this way; why do anything if someone else can do it for you?”

With that you climb out of the car, inhaling deeply when the air hits your face again, there was nothing quite like it; when you’re starting to feel a little too warm, and the freshness of the air is crispy and clean against your hot cheeks. It makes you smile, and you take slow steps toward the front door to the complex, Taehyung stops just below the few steps, holding onto the railing.

“I know we don’t know eachother that well, but” He moves up the steps, inching closer, stopping just below where you stood.  “–I’m here if you ever need me.”

His scent was soft; aldehydic and comforting in a way a storm was on a Sunday night, curling up in bed with your window cracked open just slightly. You take a step back, but he fills the space you leave the moment you move. You blink up at him as his eyes flicker over your features.

A car door slamming shut makes you jump, pulling you both from the moment. Strange.

Taehyung turns with a furrowed brow, but it relaxes the moment he sees who comes toward them, satchel slung over his shoulder, the sleeves of his dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows. He shakes his hair with his hand, stops in his tracks when looks up at the two people blocking his way inside.

He blinks, first at Taehyung and then at you. He deflates, looking like a kicked puppy when you look down the moment his eyes meet yours. “What are you doing here?” Is the first thought that slips out.

“Y/N needed a friend.” He shrugs cooly, moving past Jungkook with a pat to the shoulder. He flinches at the contact, a hand coming up to rub at his shoulder.

“That hurt…”  He mumbles. Jungkook back at his friend with a frustrated expression.

“Catch ya.” 

Taehyung is already walking over to the driver’s side, halfway into his car when Jungkook replies, “Yeah, see you…” He shakes his head, squeezing his shoulder. “Weird.” He mumbles.

You’re leaning against the railing with a red tinge on your cheeks. You only look up at him when he brushes your arm, opening the door for you to walk through. He had no choice but to look at you when you don’t move from your place. He regrets it the moment he sees you gleaming up at him.

“It’s getting cold,”  He breathes out. “Let’s get inside.”

With that you obey, beelining for the stairs instead of the elevator. Jungkook sighs and clambers after you.

He turns to face his steps when he catches himself watching the way your hair swayed effortlessly behind you, the way your hips followed in unison. When he notices that your dress is quite mini and how smooth your legs look, and–

Jungkook’s had a long day.

It starts when he rushes out of his bed, throwing on clothes and heading out the door ten minutes before seven in the morning to pound on Jimin’s door.  

Jimin never answered his call last night, or his texts. He left a hefty number of messages only for them to go unread. He already knew his night would be a sleepless one, but Jimin’s message only weighed on him even more. He rushed out the door that morning, his socks mismatched, his hair unruly and he throws a vest over a t-shirt, and he just looks awful.

Of course he looks lively, refreshed and put together at seven in the morning. Jimin grimaces at the poor sight of his friend, ushering him inside claiming it’d be a social nightmare if his cute neighbour were to see him at his door looking like that.

“You weren’t answering me, why?” He cuts right to the chase, propping himself down at the stool by the kitchen island. “You can’t just say you know who it was and then just… vanish?”

“I believe they call that ghosting, Jungkookie.” He doesn’t appreciate the joke; he blinks at him boredly. Jimin sighs and rolls his eyes. “Okay, so no light humour before ten in the morning–“

“Hyung. This isn’t just some lighthearted thing?” His eyes follow his older friend as he scurries through the kitchen, grabbing a tea towel and wiping down the spot in front of Jungkook. He tosses the towel aside with a huff.

“You’re right, it’s not. It’s all fucked up and ironic and honestly, I enjoy holding such a valuable piece of information.” He shrugs.

“Are you about to blackmail me?”

“No, no–“ He shakes his head and hands with brief upside-down smile. “I just think it’ll cause more harm than good for you to know right now.”

“Don’t tell me we know this person?” Jungkook leans forward against the tabletop, a stern look on his face. “How do you even know who did it in the first place?”

Jimin looks away, anywhere else really, besides Jungkook. He scratches the back of his neck as he peers at the ceiling fan.

Jungkook sighs, rubbing harshly at his tired eyes. “I told Y/N how I felt last night, after we got home.”

“Wait,” He’s moving again, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet above the sink, the clink against the marble an unpleasant sound. “You mean to tell me that you dropped your feelings on her, after she committed social suicide by showing up when it was way too soon for her to face her friends?” Jimin raises his brow.

“Hyung.” He runs a hand over his face. “Yeah. Shit, I– yeah, I did.”

“You haven’t changed one bit, Jungkookie.” He laughs dryly. “How did she take it?”

“She sort of dodged it all, to be honest. I still don’t know how she feels, just said she doesn’t know.”

“Yeah dummy, how can she figure how she feels about you when everyone she loves thinks she’s a desperate slut?”

“Can you watch your mouth, Jimin?” He scowls at the blond, who just clicks his tongue in return. He turns his back to make the both of them coffee.

He returns in front of him with a black coffee, the way Jungkook liked it, sipping on his own. “Do you want my advice, or what?”

“Please.” Jungkook snorts, bringing the steaming liquid past his lips.

“Just keep showing her you love her, stop hooking up with that Yuri chick and show her you mean what you said. I promise you won’t die if you don’t have sex.”

He’s right, and he knows that already. How can he expect you to love him when he’s running around with other girls, one you know from college no less. “I guess you’re right.”

Jimin nods, petting the top of his head “Let’s do better, Kook-ah.”

He clicks his tongue, slapping at Jimin’s wrist. “Alright, alright. Cut that shit out, though.”

The breath you let out is heavy with content the moment you walk through the door, toeing off your shoes beside the mat. You shuffle your way into the kitchen, humming to yourself softly as you scan the place for food. You hadn’t been to the store since Jungkook had gotten sick so there wasn’t much left.

Jungkook’s still near the door after he closes it behind him. He watched the way you jut out your bottom lip, murmuring curses under your breath that aren’t directed at him.

“Hey,” He calls out to you. You straighten, look over at him with your eyes all big and hopeful. “Sorry about last night, I didn’t mean to make it about me.”

You offer him a curt smile. “It’s okay,” your voice comes out as a whisper, not completely trusting what was going to come out the moment you realise he’s speaking to you. Not avoiding you

like you thought he was.

“I feel like I haven’t been a very good friend to you lately.” He throws the strap of his bag over her head and plops it onto the couch, himself following shortly after. You lift a hand, shaking your head.

“I just want to go back to the way life was before this all happened.”

Jungkook bites his lip and nods, his boba eyes don’t hide that your words feel personal, and that sting when he thinks about the fact that you want to forget about everything. Do you mean you want to forget his confession, too? Was it selfish that he didn’t want you to forget that part?

“Wanna get takeout and watch Sleepy Hollow?” You beam at him, as if you didn’t just chew up his chances and spit them back out. But it wasn’t like Jungkook to give up. So, he doesn’t.

“Can we get pizza?” He counters with a cheesy grin.

And it feels nice, snuggled up beside him beneath a warm blanket and a belly full of cheesy carbs. It does however make you sleepy. Jungkook doesn’t want to ask you to move so he can grab another slice, and besides, when he looks down at you and you yawn softly, he forgets all about the pizza. He drapes his arm over you, pulls you closer, and you drop your head into his lap, turning to face the screen in hopes he would think you’re watching.

His hands do that thing that drives you crazy. They soothe up and down your arm, touch feather light yet magnetic, leaving a tingle on your skin beneath his fingertips. You feel him, as his fingers graze over the goosebumps, when he reaches your wrist, he’s sly in the way he transfers his hand onto your hip instead and squeezes tenderly. You shift, peaking up at him but he’s looking straight ahead, biting on his thumb like he’s not paying attention to you, but he is. You move onto your back, and he slides his hand beneath your shirt and stops on your tummy. You let out the smallest whimper, and the deep chuckle he lets out vibrates through you, as well.

“What is it, dove?” His eyes are heavy, dark when they peer down at you. “You wanna play?”

You moan at his words, hips bucking up just the slightest, but it’s more than enough to answer his question. His hand continues up your torso, his other pushing back your hair as he admires your pretty face. He tugs your bralette up, revealing your breasts not to his eyes but for his hands to touch, his thumb swiping over your already hardened nipples. “Jungkook…” You whine.

“Yeah, baby?” He keens when you push your cheek against his hardening cock, hidden beneath his sweats. He hisses, licking his lips as he watches your features contort in pleasure. “Wanna get you nice and wet...” He drags your shirt over your chest to reveal them, cursing under his breath when you arch your back when the air hits you. Your chest feels tight, your nipples are stiff, and he joins his other hand to squeezes and touch on you, adding to the sensation.

He looks so deeply at your tits, his lips parting. “So pretty. You my pretty girl?” He drags out, dipping his head forward, the tip of his tongue flicking at one of the stiffened peaks to garner a reaction from you. He gets it, your hand comes up to the back of his neck, carding through his hair and he hums at the feeling. He wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks, squeezing your other breast as his other hand trails down your stomach again.

“Yeah…m’your girl…”

“Y/N…” Your eyes are screwed shut,

“Hm?” You tense your brow, too focused on the pleasure he gave to you— too focused on the way his mouth felt on you, how his fingers played with the drawstring on your shorts.

“Y/N?”

“What?” You ask impatiently.

“Hey,” He shakes on your shoulder and your eyes shoot open, blinking up at him.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

“You knocked out there for a little.” He smirks with amusement, light but knowing. Your cheeks begin to burn when your mind falls back to the moment you had with him prior— a moment you thought was real. You push yourself up from his lap so fast it makes your head spin. “You good?”

“Yep!” The pitch in your voice is a little too high for it to sound normal. The movie’s been paused since the moment you dozed off, you notice. You tilt your head, wondering what Jungkook has been doing if the movie was paused. Your eyes dart towards his lap, one hand grasping onto his phone. When you look up at his face, he’s biting on his lips to try and hide the smirk on his face. “So, you have a nice dream or what?”

You look like a deer in the headlights, the bellowing laugh he lets out is comical, but you’re too horrified to tease him about it, you don’t even have the time to react when he leans over to poke into your side. You yelp, but he’s too fast and he catches your waist to tickle you.

“Oh, Jungkook~” He teases you, and you slide onto your back, trying to wriggle out of his grips but you’re out of breath and laughing like crazy.

“Stop,” You nearly scream at how sensitive you are as he wiggles his fingers into your waist, “Stop that! I ca–can’t breathe!”

You knee him in the stomach by accident, he winces, curling in on himself and grabs at his stomach. You think he doesn’t notice that his head is far too close to your breasts than you’d like. Or maybe you’d like. Shit, you don’t know.  

Fuck.

You’re panicking. Your eyes widen again, chest heaving. You feel the throb in your panties. You gasp, pushing on his shoulders, so that you’re sitting up, but you lean too far forward as he’s trying to recover from the hit. His face is inches from yours, your hands gripping onto his shoulders because you think you’re going to fall. Jungkook’s eyes are blown out, you get lost in them; deep depths where his thoughts swim in the circles of internal battles on what to say— what to do.

His fingers twitch when he raises his hand, his movements are unsure, but he knows he’s itching to touch you. He tucks your hair behind your ear, lets his fingers graze your warm cheeks. You blink at him, the tilt in your head makes it known that that there’s cogs turning in your head. You don’t move; you don’t react at all when his hands begin exploring you in a way he never had before.

He moves down, lifting the pendant of your necklace between his fingers, letting it fall back against your heaving chest. He only lets his eyes linger on the swell of your breast for a second, but he notices the way you shift, tucking your legs gingerly beneath where you sat, propped up on your knees. The apartment is silent, bar the sound of his breaths melding with yours, the way your let your eyes drop, following his wandering hand.

Now yours move, too. From his shoulders, up his neck and to cup his face. He doesn’t look at you though, even when you move his head to face you. He just watches the way his hands drag down your arms. Relishing in how soft you feel against his slightly rough hands.

 “Kook,” you whisper. “You never pursued me.” It’s more a realisation than a question. He looks up at you now. Your eyes are asking him why he chose to sleep with Yuri, pursue Yuri in such a surface level way. Jungkook was always respectful, a nice guy— but he wasn’t impartial to casual sex. It was clear in the late nights you’d accidentally run into Yuri in the kitchen wearing nothing but his shirt. It wasn’t like there was a new girl in his bed all the time, but if he claimed to like you, why sleep with her when you were in the room next door? But alas, you settle for a simple. “Why?”

He leans into your palm, shutting his eyes for a moment as he inhales sharply through his mouth. “It’s complicated, Y/N.”

Your hands slip from his face, sliding down to his chest. “Is it?” You wonder, “Is it really that complicated?”

Jungkook licks his lips, but he lifts one of your hands from his chest just to intertwine your fingers. “You’re not just another girl to me.” He admits, “I’ve had girlfriends, situationships, hell I’ve had plenty of friends, even.” You snort at the way he flexes that, and he chuckles shyly. You know he didn’t mean for it to sound like some sort of boastful thing. “None of them have seen me the way you’ve seen me. The way you listen, you retain, and you remember. You comfort and you nurture and you’re so full of love.”

You chew on your bottom lip, not anticipating how much his words would hit you straight through the heart. “No one else does it for me, dove. That’s why I’d do anything to keep you in my life. Even if that meant I never got to have you that way I want.”

“What if you can?” You rise from your knees slightly, shuffle closer to him.

“I can what?” You’ve never seen his pupils get so big, but to be fair, you’ve never really allowed yourself to look so deeply into them. Even though you knew they were beautiful, knew how welcoming and full of warmth they were.

“What if you can have me the way that you want?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, you don’t think he’s going to as you lean closer, dip your head at an angle as your lips brush his. But the moment you send it, think you’re going to feel his lips for the first time, he pulls back, only a little but enough to create space. “Then I’d want you to be sure.” He whispers, looking down.

You must admit that it hurts to be rejected this way. You wonder if this is how Jungkook has felt with you for so long. “If you really mean that, then you can have me. Hell, you already do—

always have.”

“I just…you’re too important to me. I wouldn’t want to rush anything and risk losing you altogether.” His expression is sorrowful when he looks at you again. You try to hide the way your face naturally expresses itself and replace your pout with a smile instead.

“Don’t be sad, dove.” He huffs an amused breath, tilting your chin up when you look down. You feel embarrassed.

“I want to kiss you, so bad it hurts.” He assures you, he leans in, and you close your eyes. Wince when his lips touch your cheek. “So, let’s make a deal. If you still want to kiss me by the end of next week, then I’ll know you meant what you said.” Because was two weeks more? That felt like mere moments to him.

But to you…

“Okay.” you fall back, plopping down onto the couch begrudgingly.

“What happened to patience is a virtue, hm?” He bops you on the nose and you roll your eyes.

“Can we just finish the movie?” You grumble, "I'm tired." He hums softly as he scoots closer to you, even when you lean away from him, pretending that you don’t melt when he pulls you back into his side.

It was the most normal you had felt in days, even if you were venturing into new territory with your roommate.

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