#inner ear disorders

[monkeymeghan]

So I got the “I’m tired, too, but I still do things” from my mom today. She doesn’t get it. I tried to explain, and she still wants me to call my doctor, which I will when I’m a bit better. I don’t want to call now and make an appointment and be too fatigued to make the appointment. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day. It has to be because I have to drive my mom to a doctor’s appointment tomorrow afternoon no matter what. *sigh* This has been a really rough three days.

In other news, I’m feeling slightly less pressure in my ears, so I think the new medication is working. 🤞🏻

[familydocblog]

Dizziness: Causes, Symptoms, and Treatment Options

Feeling dizzy and off-balance? Don't despair! This comprehensive guide dives into the causes, symptoms, diagnosis, and treatments for dizziness so you can regain your equilibrium.

Introduction Have you ever experienced that disorienting feeling where the world seems to spin around you? That’s dizziness, and it can be quite unsettling. Whether it’s a brief episode or a persistent problem, dizziness can greatly affect your daily life. In this article, we will explore the causes, symptoms, and treatment options for dizziness. Dizziness is not a specific condition itself but…

[deadendtracks]

a recent Red Hand Files letter answered by Nick Cave was about tinnitis, and next time i am annoyed with my own, i am going to remember that all the musicians i love and respect most likely have it (occupational hazard) so i'm in good company

[buppypuppy]

I think I may be hard of hearing to a degree.

[jewshboy]

ahhhhh

[samodivaa]

Bucky with an oral fixation due to his anxiety so you let him suck your big tits (smut)

Bucky’s heart may fail him in so many horrors—both in waking, from his nerves, and in sleep, from his nightmares, because the punishment of his disordered mind is its own disorder. A disorder nobody else has. There is no cure, but he is trying to master it, he is learning to live with it—just as he has learned to live with other storms of his mind. The impossibility of love? He has you now. The past can't be annihilated, it is a part of him. Regret, denial, sadness—it leads to anxiety and his habit of always chewing on something—gum, sweets. He holds his breath, a desperate attempt to slow down his heartbeat, a desperate attempt to get away. One second. Two seconds. The moment he chews on the pencil you gifted him for that purpose, he is feeling better. No amount of him trying to explain himself is doing any good, he doesn’t even know what is going on inside of him—but your observation is the first step of the inner unfolding, of finding a solution to every problem he has. You create so much love, compassion, equanimity and joy in his mind that he doesn’t feel ashamed or judged. But seeing him biting down on that pencil—once you've seen how broken he is, it's like seeing him naked. How can you help now? “Bucky, why don't you suck on my tits instead?”

His gaze, though almost improper, is the most sensual thing he could have done at the moment, and it jolts your heart into a strange rhythm, leaving you unable to speak. There is lust and then there is love. They are related, but still very different things—you surge forward, crossing the final, tiny gap and pressing your lips to his. It is desperate and frantic, but the feel of his mouth against yours sends a bolt of electricity straight down your spine. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed. He gets on top and the gentle, erotic pressure of his mouth on yours, the compelling pleasure of his kiss—the world stops and all the silence, but for your hearts, trying to synchronize your crashing. It is all the thrill of these kisses, of your new naughty suggestion. It is the impatience of the way he tears your shirt from your body, that really turns you on—lust getting the better of him, Bucky is a gentle lover, but not today which makes a jolt of some foreign but not unwelcome sensation pierce you. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear as he mutters out: “I already love that idea, baby”

You let out an involuntary airy moan as he grabs them in his palms, his huge hands palming your tits, kneading gently at first before he rubs his palms in circles. He rolls one nipple between his fingers, humming in satisfaction as it hardens under his touch before he begins to suck on it while massaging your other tit. He's drooling, swirling his tongue over it before biting gently the nipple and he is thankful that your head is thrown back so you don't look how desperate he is. How fucked up he is. He fully embraces the deliciousness of this sin, the calmness that it brings to his mind and all you want to drown his worries. You want him to do something totally unlike himself and it is working—but this lust is something close to anguish, because he needs to stop eventually and he doesn't want to. He leans back a bit, searching for your eyes as he struggles to breathe, focusing on his lungs, on his ability to take deep breaths, to soothe with oxygen—the vast ocean of blue that is his eyes, remarkably focused and soft at the same time. “I love it, I love how big they are” he says thickly and completely without shame. He bites down on the curve of your breast, breathing softly on top of the skin “Can’t stop,” he says, the words coming out like a caress. He says it again, over and over. A litany. As your clothed cunt contracts at the friction against his pelvis, his words, you can feel him, hips bucking slowly up into you. He latches his mouth directly on your other nipple, making you cry out as he envelops a part of your breast into his mouth, a hand coming up to play with the other one. “Bucky—enough”  Your hands go to his hair as he sucks sharply on the breast, but you can’t pull him away. You can’t help the whimpers that escape you, the long drawn out sobs that punch out of your throat whenever he bites a little harder, giving your other nipple a harsher tug as a punishment every time you try to push him back. Sucking removes any daily existence from his mind, any anxiety, grounding Bucky firmly in the moment and dragging your body with it. Until he had enough. What a beautiful madness, he never felt so relaxed.

[yanderestarangel]

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐆𝐄!𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

TW: image disorder, stretch marks, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, afab anatomy, ftm reader, pet names, age gap, dilf!johnny cage, daddykink, praise kink.

You had low self-esteem, and Johnny was your best friend's father, who offered you to train with you, he loves working out to be a Hollywood movie actor and martial arts fighter.

He always supported you, even if in his opinion you didn't need it because you're extremely hot, but you insisted because you have image problems and one of those days, you look at your body in the mirror, and fall into bed watching Johnny arrive at yours home opening the door cheerful and shirtless, with the typical glasses.

-Good moring my little pretty boy, let's exercise?

Johnny speaks happily while flexing the muscles in his arms, but soon notices his sad look on the bed, while he was worried, waiting for you to say what was bothering you.

You soon said that you were feeling ugly because of the stretch marks and extra fat, something that was perfectly normal, but you couldn't see it because you had a distorted image and were always pushing yourself too hard and Johnny knew that.

"-Hey now, none of that talk, alright? You're beautiful just the way you are. Those stretch marks and curves? They're all part of what makes you unique and stunning. Don't let anyone, including yourself, tell you otherwise, How about we forget about all those negative thoughts and focus on some self-love? I can help you see just how incredible you truly are." -Johnny's touch is confident and firm, letting you know that he means business. Despite his forwardness, there's a genuine desire to make you feel good.

You didn't question him, just letting Johnny take you in front of the mirror in your room and lift your shirt, exposing your body, Johnny was tired of hiding his desire for you, he wasn't going to be your coach or just your best friend's father, he was going to show you how beautiful you were from every angle and shape.

He steps closer, his body pressing against yours, feeling the heat and hardness of his erection against your sensitive areas.

"-Oh, my little pretty boy, I'm going to show you just how incredible your body can feel." -His hard length against your pussy and ass, his hands gripping your hips firmly

"-Look at yourself in the mirror, sweetheart. Look at how stunning you are, how desirable. See those curves, those luscious breasts, that beautiful round ass? You're a work of art, my dear."

Johnny's words are a mix of encouragement and arousal, his voice thick with desire. He wants you to see yourself through his eyes, to witness your own sensuality and beauty, as he continues to rub against you, he leans in to whisper in your ear.

"-And I can't wait to make you feel even better. I'm going to show you just how much pleasure your body is capable of. Hold on tight, my little pretty boy."

Johnny nips at your earlobe before moving his lips down to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses. The mirror reflects the passion and desire in both your eyes, as Johnny begins his exploration of your body.

"-You have no idea how badly I want to taste you (Y/N), to make you forget all your worries and insecurities. Your pleasure is my priority, my dear." -He slowly lowers himself to his knees, his gaze locked with yours as he spreads your legs apart, exposing your wet and eager pussy.

Cage leans in, his hot breath against your inner thighs before flicking his tongue against your swollen clit. His touch is skilled and confident, expertly bringing you to the edge of pleasure.

As he licks and suckles, he continues to assert his dominance over you, mixing degrading words with praises, heightening the intensity of the moment.

"-You're so beautiful, my little slut. This tight, wet pussy belongs to me now. I'm going to make you scream my name, beg for more. And you will. You'll be mine in every sense." -Johnny chuckles against your wet pussy, the vibrations causing you to squirm in pleasure, he expertly works his tongue on your sensitive folds, using his mouth to drive you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"-Oh, my little pretty boy, you have no idea how much I want to fuck you. And lucky for us, I think it's time we make that happen, Are you ready, sweetheart? Ready to feel me deep inside you? Ready to let go and experience pleasure like never before?"- With a swift motion, Johnny stands up, pulling you with him. His hands firmly grip your hips as he positions himself at your entrance.

He sees you nodding your head in affirmation for him to move on, his dominant side fully taking over as he positions you in front of the mirror, the sight of your tight pussy enveloping his hard cock only intensifies his lust.

"-That's right, my little slut. Daddy's going to fuck you so good." -Johnny Cage growls, his voice dripping with lust and authority.

Johnny begins to move his hips, his thrusts slow and deep, savoring the feeling of your tightness. As he watches the mirror, he relishes in the sight of your body meeting his relentless pace. The reflection reflects the raw desire and pleasure on both your faces, his hands grip your hips firmly, guiding your movements as you ride him. A delicious mix of pain and pleasure courses through your body as he lightly squeezes the soft flesh of your waist.

"-You're such a good little fucktoy, my pretty boy, look at yourself, taking Daddy's cock like a good slut. You were made for this, made to be fucked and used."

Johnny thrusts become harder and faster, his hips colliding with yours with a satisfying slap. The sounds of your moans and skin slapping against skin fill the room.

Johnny's lust-filled eyes are fixed on your reflection in the mirror, his cock throbbing deep inside you as you ride him. He groans in pleasure, relishing in the feel of your tight pussy gripping him tightly.

"-Yes (Y/N), that's it, my little slut, take my cock, show me what a dirty little boy you can be... Oh fuck, that feels so good, my pretty boy. Squeeze them, feel them tighten as I fuck you harder,"

His hand continues to tease and pleasure your clit, his fingers expertly exploring your most sensitive spots. With every flick and stroke, the pleasure intensifies, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

"-You're such a dirty little slut, aren't you? Fucking your best friend's dad, riding me like you were made for it."

Johnny watches as your hands explore his balls, adding an extra layer of pleasure for him. His grip on your waist tightens, his thrusts become more powerful and relentless.

"-You're mine baby no one else gets to have you like this... You belong to Daddy Johnny."

As pleasure builds and the tension in the room reaches its peak, Johnny pushes you even closer to the edge.

"-Come for me, my pretty boy, show Daddy how much you love being his dirty little slut."

With his words urging you on, the sensations overwhelm you, and you shudder in intense release, your orgasm rippling through your body. The mirror reflects the ecstasy on your face as your walls clench around Johnny's cock, coaxing him to his own climax.

Moments later, Johnny groans loudly, his control shattering as he spills his hot seed deep inside your pussy. He thrusts a few more times, riding out his orgasm before finally stilling.

Breathing heavily, both of you take a moment to bask in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. Johnny leans in to kiss your shoulder, his touch filled with tenderness amidst the raw desire that had consumed you both.

"-My pretty boy, you're so fucking amazing."

[adventuringblind]

The Mirror is My Enemy

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: Growing up with a narcissistic mother was never easy. Never looking the way she wanted made enemies out of strange things, including her own mind. Oscar mends her slowly in the way he knows how.

Warnings: Narcissistic abuse, eating disorder, vomiting (implied),

Notes: yeah... this one his hard. I know narcissistic mother are different from father, but I did the best with the experience I have. I hope the requester of this likes it, I tried really hard!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Narcissists are a special breed of people. Concerned about themselves and how they look. Charismatic and welcoming to the outside world. But to their inner circles? Their families? They see the hidden truth.

Having one as a parent is a specific kind of hell. It's underhanded comments and insults masked with laughter like it's a joke. It's always having your privacy invaded to make sure you aren't getting any ideas or talking about them in a negative light.

It's giving up on fighting because it's easier to just do what they say, to give up any semblance of control over your own life. Always being exhausted because you're either arguing or watching any kind of hope for life you had wither away.

The optimal thing to do is try and tell someone, but nobody believes because they can't see the evidence. They don't see the way her mom dresses her up like a doll or the comments whispered in her ear. They don't know that behind the closed bathroom door, her mother pokes and tugs at her skin and forces her to watch in the mirror. They don't know the control it takes to make herself not eat from such a tender age. Always trying to fit into the clothes that are too small for her. Purposely purchased that way.

She learns to love the compliments when her mother gives them. As her body whittles away into nothingness.

She meets Oscar while in a fragile state. Dolled up for some fancy dinner she's attending with her mother. Some kind of business thing with McLaren.

She's always thought the reason they had so much money was because they don't eat. It's how they have extra to invest into whatever they choose. Her father likes money and her mom likes appearances. A lovely combination that she's caught in-between.

She orders a salad for appearances. Nobody can see what's truly going on. They'd asl questions if she acts strange. She takes small bites and pokes around anything on it that might hold a few extra calories.

She makes conversation with herself in her head. Missing the looks the Australian driver is throwing her way.

They attend the race that weekend. Guests to the McLaren garage. She tries to avoid anything that even remotely looks like a camera since it adds five pounds to the image of her.

Saturday after qualifying is when Oscar finally starts a conversation. An encouraging nod from Lando has him making confident strides towards her.

He offers her a tour and she accept. Her mother isn't paying too much attention to her. Not like she ever does unless she looks acceptable in her loose-fitting clothes, so nobody says anything.

Oscar is nice. He makes good conversation with her. It's different to the people her parents approved of. Oscar asks her about her interests and reciprocates with his own.

They agree to a date after the race on Sunday. He takes her to some park he'd discovered over the weekend.

She hides it away. Desperate to keep this one thing for herself. Untouched by her parents.

She texts Oscar far more than necessary. Her co-workers notice how her mood lightens.

He comes to see her at every opportunity he can. she can't seem to get away from her parents. Every time she tries it ends badly. Then they get suspicious and start looking through her things.

Oscar takes her to eat a few times. She keeps up appearances. It's strange that someone is encouraging her to eat. Oscar looks soft every time she indulges in the foods that had been restricted for her entire life.

Her mother notices. Because every calorie shows. Like somehow, she knows every time she puts any kind of food in her mouth.

Oscar spends summer break staying with her. She takes a deep breath introducing him to her parents. They play nice in front of him.

Afterwards is a different story. They catch her alone in the hall and pull her away. They lecture her about not knowing anything about him and how he won't be any good for her.

She sleeps separate from him all summer. She keeps her distance physically. He doesn't notice how far gone she is.

Oscar asks her to come with him. To drop what she's doing and travel the world with him.

She acts on a whim. She leaves everything and follows Oscar around the world.

He figures is out eventually. He knew, always had, but he sees how bad it is. Her resolve breaks, she doesn't know how to combat these thoughts in her head. They are overwhelming, they eat away at her in the form of depriving herself.

But Oscar is a patient soul. He works at her pace.

Oscar comes up behind her when she gets lost staring at her flaws in the mirror. He doesn't drag her away; he points out every beautiful make she has, every perfection like it's a drug to him.

He asks about confronting her mother; about defending her and setting some hard boundaries. She begs him not to. They cut contact and leave it at that.

It's different being with someone who doesn't care what she eats. Who doesn't make a big deal about when she pokes at her food or indulges in a favorite snack.

It's amazing what happened when one has a decent support system. When she is able to look for Oscar when she's stuck staring in the mirror and picking at her skin. When he stays with her despite relapses that make her sick.

Oscar still holds and compliments and makes sure she knows she's loved despite it all. He tells her that seeing her smile is worth every weird joke he tells.

He's doing what her parents should've done. And maybe one day she'll see that she never needed their approval, that she has always been perfect. But for now, Oscar is there to make sure she knows she's enough for him exactly as she is.

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

COD Men with a mentally ill/disordered S/O

Requested: No

Warnings: OCD, ADHD, Anxiety, and Depression, Panic attacks

A/N: I cried while writing this so enjoy the fruit of my tears

Ghost - OCD

Ghost can’t say that he understands your need for cleanliness, in your home and in your mind, the way you think just doesn’t make sense to him. He knows that, logically, you checking the knob of the front door exactly 3 times in a row, doing your goodnight chant at the exact same pitch and volume every night as you back into your room, checking every single thing in your area before you can even think of touching the bed, does not influence anything but your mind. But he knows that you not doing it will only put you into a frenzy, practically hyperventilating about how much everything would go wrong because you didn’t do it right. Because now everything is filthy because you broke the pattern. You never say it aloud, afraid he’d think you as crazy as you already think of yourself, but he already knows. It’s written all across your face, the tears in your eyes, the way you look like you want to claw your skin off just to get to the filth that you know is underneath.

filthy filthy filthy FILTHY

No, you never have to say a word. But Ghost will always know, and he’ll always try to help, even if it’s entirely in vain as you sink deeper and deeper into your head, giving in to the voices. He’ll always be there for you, your medicine in one hand and a drink in the other, always.

Soap - ADHD

Soap thinks a lot of your little habits are cute at first. Sure you do some pretty strange things but he doesn’t think it’s anything drastic. You’re just his strange little goofball. But that changes when he gets to know you better and sees all the negative ways you are affected. The way you struggle with time, how you often have trouble remembering even important things, and your inability to properly communicate with people who aren’t in your day to day life. Not to mention your guilt on top of all those things and how it affects your self worth.

Soap can’t help with many of those things but something he can help with is the executive dysfunction. Bringing you food and drinks when you get so absorbed into a task that everything else just falls away and you don’t even notice your stomach’s rumbling until it hurts. Subtly snapping you out of your daydreams when you unintentionally start zoning out during something important. Helping you manage impulse control, starting boring or difficult tasks, or keeping your attention on something important when you get distracted for the umpteenth time.

He’ll always be there for you, ready to assist you however he can, even if he can’t always be a great help.

König - Anxiety

Ah yes, an experience that König is all too familiar with. Although he does find it all kinds of strange to be seeing his own mannerisms from the outside instead of just experiencing them. The way you shrink in on yourself when someone approaches you about something serious, or how you look like you’re on the verge of a panic attack when you have to go into a crowd or to the store during busy hours. And unfortunately a lifetime of living with the same mental illness does not help him comfort you at all. He can try his best but your anxiety feeds into his own, making him teary eyed.

But that doesn’t stop him. König doesn't want to just sit by and watch you delve further into panic. So he worked on being braver, on withstanding his own panic so he could help you through yours. It wasn’t easy, his legs practically jelly as he tried to talk you through an anxiety attack, helping you get your breathing steady again, his voice echoing in your ears as he tries to soothe away all the voices in your head. He knows it’s not going to help all that much, but he hopes it at least helps some.

He just wants to help you feel better, Little Majestät.

Alejandro - Depression

Alejandro is no stranger to the absolute messes that people can become when their inner demons take control. He’s seen his fair share of soldiers lose themselves to PTSD and the like, drowning in their sorrows. It’s not something he’d wish upon anyone, let alone you. Someone he cherishes so much, so close to his heart that seeing you upset makes him almost physically ill. And this level of pain you are in, unable to move from your bed, just staring at the wall like some hallowed husk of the person he loves, it hurts him so badly.

He will do his best for you, gently encouraging you to drink water or to eat something, bringing these things to you if you truly cannot convince you to come out of bed with him. He’ll whisper to you how much he loves you, words of encouragement and praise for everything you manage to do, even if it’s as simple as getting out of bed to perform basic hygiene or throwing out a piece of trash. His smile will be so big when you finally do manage to get out of bed, pressing sweet kisses to your face as he asks you quietly if you’d like to join him in the living room for a bit. Trying to encourage you while not pushing you too far.

Alejandro would kill, just to see you out of your bed and even just the slightest bit happier.

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 8

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Alluding to sexual scenarios. Kissing. Fat shaming, name calling. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.8k

Series List: Here!

Miss Chapter 7? Here!

Hi all! I know this one took a lot longer than previous. I was on vacation and then went straight into my work week. I almost thought about ending it after the last chapter but I realized there's still some loose ends! Also I gotta say I'm really overthinking the voicing for Pedro, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless. This chapter entirely got away from me and wasn't the plot I anticipated, haha. Once again, thank you all for reading. I love all the comments, messages, and asks I get about my story and it honestly blows me away. Please continue to like, reblog, and let me know what you think! Love to you all!

Also I made dividers! Weeehooo

The rest of the evening was filled with kisses, cuddles, and sweet nothings whispered to each other through smiles. It was just a quarter after midnight when Pedro finally pulled his lips away from yours and looked at the clock. Turning to set his forehead on yours once again, he quietly spoke.

"I should probably get home, Princesa," he punctuated with another kiss.

You let out a whine, but knew you weren't ready for it to move much further than this too quickly. "What time is it?" You kissed him.

"It's already after midnight." He kissed.

"Hmm," you hummed with another press of your lips to his. "And I never even turned into a pumpkin." Kiss.

"I don't think that's how the story went, mi amor," he ran his hand over your hair, kissing your lips, your cheek, below your ear, and finally your neck.

"Mmmm," you sighed, tilting your head to give him better access. "I can't really think clear enough about how that story went right now." You ran your fingers through his curls.

He kissed down your neck again a few times before gently nibbling your earlobe. Your breath caught in your chest.

"We should really slow this down and call it a night," he whispered directly into your ear. You felt his nose brush your hair and his warm breath on the side of your face. 

You sighed with a pout of your lips. You knew he was right. It was too soon into the relationship - or whatever this is - to go any further. But damn, would you be lying if you said you didn't want it.

"I know, baby. I know." He sighed in response, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

He pulled back, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, and adjusting in his seat, pulling his sweater down further over his waist. You tried to ignore it, but you couldn't help letting your eyes drift down a little lower towards the area he was trying to cover. He placed his hands in his lap, clearing his throat. You looked back up at his face, noticing his cheeks turning a pink hue.

Guess I'm not the only one feeling a little excited here, you thought with a smirk at the idea of you making him react this way. You rubbed your thumb across his reddened cheek. "Don't worry, baby. Me too," you sighed, feeling a little antsy and frustrated yourself. His eyebrows raised, mouth pulling into a mischievous sideways smirk. 

The two of you let out a nervously happy laugh. "Maybe… I could take you on a real date soon? If you would like that?" Pedro asked, looking at you once again with those big brown eyes. "I would love that, Pedro. More than anything." You pecked his lips once more, running your hand over his bicep.

He kissed you back before pulling away with a small laugh. "Okay, I gotta go, baby. I'm enjoying this a little too much, and we should probably cool it down." He gave another nervous laugh.

"Sorry," you giggled. "You're kind of addicting, and you don't know how long I've waited for this. Kissing. Mutual feelings. Romance…" you trailed off with a grin.

"Love?" He asked, holding your cheek and giving a soft smile.

"Yes. That too." You closed your eyes, leaning into his cheek. "But that still sounds so wild to me.  I'm scared to say it to you in case you'll change your mind, or realize you don't feel the same, or that it's too soon for… that word, or…" you rambled quietly, your insecurities creating a wall you know all too well.

"That just isn't true, sweetheart. I know it's soon, and we technically just met, but we've been talking for several months now. We've talked nearly every day. I started to realize I might love you a while ago, but seeing you for the first time over video really made me know for sure. Getting to meet you in person somehow even made me fall harder," he held your hand in his.

"After just one meeting? I mean, it's just… people that have known me for years haven't felt that way, and someone like you? Someone famous and beautiful and so much more experienced and mature than me… I just.. I don't want to push you away, but I can't help but worry that you'll change your mind or it isn't real and it's all just going to… vanish," you looked down at your connected hands, closing your eyes to swallow your emotions.

"Hey.. don't do that. Don't put yourself down or build those walls. I fell in love with your music and your voice the first time I heard it. Getting to know you through text and finally talking to you on the phone, getting to learn all your quirks and your sense of humor, your personality. You. I don't know how anyone could not fall in love with you, and I was scared to let it happen. I told myself not to get wrapped up in relationships. That it would just cause more heartache that I couldn't go through again. But somehow you lured me in like a siren and I couldn't ignore it. I heard your song and wanted to know you. I talked to you and needed more. I don't care that you weren't famous before, and that you don't have a lot of experience with relationships. And any other insecurities you have can just go away, because they aren't true. You are beautiful. You're funny, smart, sweet, and you have the most beautiful voice and heart of anyone I know. I knew you were beautiful before I saw you, and I fell so hard when I finally saw you for the first time."

"Pedro…" you blinked at him.

"The constant thought that you already loved someone, and it, to my knowledge, wasn't me, hurt every day I talked to you. But I couldn't stay away. I just kept wanting to be closer. I want to be with you. If anything, I wonder why you would want to be with someone so much older than you. Someone who can't love you the way you deserve, without paparazzi and fans and spotlights. I hope you won't change your mind. Because despite my best efforts to avoid relationships, I fell in love."

You had tears in your eyes as you looked up from your lap to meet his eyes. "I love you Pedro."

"I love you too." He kissed your lips once again, and as he pulled away, he said your name in a whisper. "Believe me, having to stop kissing you is just as difficult for me too. Maybe tomorrow I can take you on that date?" He asked, standing up with your hand in his.

"I'd love to go on a date with you," you smiled at the ground, cheeks heating. 

"Great! I'll talk to you tomorrow," he kissed your cheek before kneeling down to give Skipper a gentle rub and receiving several wet doggy kisses. The two of you laughed as Pedro stood, wiping his face on his sweater. "What can I say, I like kisses from everyone in this household." He winked.

"Okay cheeseball, get outta here," you gently shoved him before giving a final kiss and waving goodbye to him.

The next day, you were sleeping in, feeling relaxed and happy, like you finally could rest easy. It was around 11 AM when your phone rang, waking you up from your deep, peaceful slumber. Blinking your eyes open to see the morning sun beaming through the window, you stretched and grabbed your phone, looking at the clock as you did so. It was Pedro calling.

Cheerily, you answered the phone, though your voice betrayed you, still sounding groggy and cracked having just awoken. "Morning Pedro!"

"Baby… were you crying?" He asked, sounding concerned.

"What? No? I just woke up. Why would I be crying after having such a nice night with you?" You giggled.

He didn't laugh. In fact, he was a bit quiet. Unusual for the bubbly personality he usually was. "Pedro?" You asked after a beat of silence, suddenly feeling nervous.

He sighed and said your name in a tone that sent a chill down your spine. "I think you should check your phone. It's… something's happened. You should see it yourself. I just… I'm so sorry. I hope you'll forgive me."

Your blood ran cold. What is he talking about?

"Pedro, I don't under-" he interrupted you. "Please. I'm sorry. Just, you should read through everything and think things through. I hope you'll still want to call me back and talk. Goodbye. I love you." He hung up the phone.

With shaky hands, you looked at your phone. 45 missed text messages, 10 of which were from Pedro. 200 notifications on your personal Instagram. 20 emails. 

What the hell?

You first opened Pedro's texts.

"Baby. I'm so sorry. I should've never dragged you into all this, I'm so sorry."

"I'm sure you've seen by now, I'm so sorry."

"Please forgive me."

"I know you probably want your space, but I hope you're okay. I love you."

"Baby?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm getting worried"

"Can we talk?"

"I hope you're just asleep or something."

"I never meant for this to happen."

What. The hell. Happened?

The other messages were from family and friends, all seeming to be freaking out about something. Still confused, you finally came across your answer.

News articles flooded your page. 

"Pedro Pascal Seen Leaving Party with Mystery Woman"

"Pedro Pascal Enjoys Halloween Party with Date"

"Pedro Pascal: New Girlfriend??"

"Pedro Pascal: Matching Costumes with Unknown Girl"

Oh shit.

Photo, after photo, after photo. You kept reading.

"Mystery Girl's Co-Worker Speaks Out!"

"Unknown Woman Is Pedro Super Fan"

"Pedro Pascal Dating Obsessed Fan?"

"Pedro Pascal Being Stalked By Woman"

Okay this is getting absurd. 

You clicked on the coworker article. Sure enough, your coworker, one you always thought was rude, had thrown you under the bus. Your name was out there now, thanks to her. "She and I go way back. We're practically besties. And yeah, she's totally in love with Pedro Pascal. Obsessed even."

That. Bitch, you thought angrily.

It was time to call your agent, Rose. You already had several missed calls from her, and she knew all about Pedro and your crush. She had become your confidante. You dialed her number and she quickly answered on the first ring.

"Rose! What should I do? There's pictures of me everywhere. My name is out there. My coworker commented on it. I haven't left my bedroom yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if they've found out where I live. I'm so scared. I don't know how to deal with this kind of thing."

You were on the verge of tears.

"First of all sweetheart," she calmly answered in her southern twang, "take a deep breath." You did what she said, though it hardly seemed to help.

"Second of all, I've been working on some fixin' since it all caught wind this mornin'. Things are startin' to calm down. Nobody seems to know that you're that singer, either. They just think you're some girl who managed to meet Pedro. But, I will say I think this may be the push you need. It might be time to tell the world, sugar. How you choose to do that is up to you, but don't you worry, I'll put out the fires."

You took a deep breath and sighed. "I think you're right. It was only a matter of time."

"Have you talked to Pedro yet?"

Shit. Pedro.

"Sort of. He called and woke me up. He apologized and basically hung up, telling me to call when I read everything. But I had a bunch of texts from him. He kept apologizing."

Rose clicked her tongue. "That poor sweet man. None of this was his fault. You know that too, right, darlin'? This is just what happens in show business. It ain't fair, but it also isn't his fault."

"I know that, Rose. He didn't do anything wrong. I got so caught up in all the headlines that I immediately called you and forgot to call him back. I bet he feels awful. I should get back to him. I hope he's okay, too. He only seemed concerned for me, but most of those headlines were actually about him and his dating life. I can't believe I put him through that." You suddenly realized what he may also be feeling after his confessions last night about avoiding relationships, and the inability to give you privacy from paparazzi.

Rose sighed. "Now if you don't call that sweet man, I will! You two lovebirds are perfect for each other. Apologizin' and feelin' awful for one another when neither of ya did anything wrong. Go get 'im. And hang in there, love. It'll all work out, trust me."

Your cheeks heated at her words about you and Pedro. "Thanks Rose. You always know what to say."

You two hung up and immediately you called Pedro.

"Pedro… I'm so sorry."

"Hon- wait what? Why are you sorry??"

"Those headlines were about you too, and your dating life and history. I hate that you were dragged into all this drama."

"Honey, no, please don't worry about me. Are you okay?? I know this is new for you and some of those articles were pretty mean. And that coworker of yours!? Clearly not a friend. How are you feeling?"

You took a deep breath. "Honestly, P, I'm so stressed. But I talked to my agent and she really talked me down. She said she's been playing crisis management all morning and it's dying down. But she does think it's time I tell the world who I am."

"Oh… babe. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I was so selfish, I just wanted to see you and I didn't think about the consequences. I should have known this would happen."

"Pedro, please don't feel bad. None of this is your fault. She's right, it's time. I couldn't keep it a secret forever. And the party was not a great experience, but honestly, last night was one of the best nights of my life."

"So.. you still want to be with me?" He asked, cautiously.

"What? Yes, what kind of question is that? I love you, Pedro. Of course I want to be with you. Did you change your mind?"

"No!" He answered quickly. "I want to be with you."

"Good!" You smiled for the first time since seeing all the turmoil today. "I guess I better figure out my plans for the big reveal. I have some ideas, but…" you trailed off, pausing a few seconds.

"What is it, baby?"

"I don't want to make you feel like you have to if you don't want to, but… would you come over? I think I'll go on Instagram live, and I don't want to be alone. You don't have to be in the shot, I just want your presence there. You make me happy. Just you, me, and Skipper together today."

"Of course. Anything. I'll be there."

"Thank you, P. Give me an hour?"

"Perfect. I'll see you then. I'll bring you breakfast."

"Thank you, Pedro. You're really too good to me."

"No such thing, mi amor. You deserve it."

The conversation ended, and you showered, thinking through your words for the internet. Picking out the perfect outfit and place in your house for the big reveal, it wasn't long before the hour was up and Pedro was knocking on your door with breakfast and drinks in hand.

"Yum! Thank you, Pedro." You helped him carry, and then kissed him deeply, pouring all your love into the kiss, letting all your stresses of the day fade into pure love. He kissed you back, pulling you in closer by your lower back. "I wasn't sure if you were too stressed to eat, so I got things that would be okay to reheat, or leave out until you felt up to it."

"You're the best, you know that?" You rubbed his cheek.

"Mmmm, that's yet to be revealed, mi amor" he raised an eyebrow and winked, pulling you in for another kiss. You giggled, feeling bubbles of nerves and butterflies in your stomach at his implications. But now was not the time for those thoughts. You had more pressing matters.

Pedro noticed your stress shift. "You ready?" He asked while squeezing your arm. "I'm about as ready as I'm gonna be, I guess," you shrugged. "Let's do this." You stated, him answering with a curt nod.

The two of you made way to your music room, setting up your tablet in the right place near your desk. He sat in a chair just on the other side of you, outside of view, but close enough to make you feel more at ease. He was even close enough to hold your hand under the desk if you needed. Meanwhile, Skipper sat under the table near your feet, willing to keep you company when he could tell you were unhappy.

"Here we go," you breathed. You clicked the button to go live, and the stream began.

Want more? Track 9: Here!

Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for more!

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl @leiadjarin

[monkeymeghan]

So today I saw my ENT, since my GI doc wanted me to see him. It turns out that based on my symptoms he thinks I have endolymphatic hydrops. Idiopathic endolymphatic hydrops is also known as Ménière’s disease. Based on the reading I’ve done since I got home, I think I would have secondary, because SEH can be caused by ear surgery. This makes sense because the vestibular symptoms I’ve been having have been since my craniotomies. Fun times. So he wants me to try a certain medication for a few months and see how that goes. Fingers crossed!

[puppsworld]

omg hi i saw you said you wanted to be asked about ghoul hc's and I love your ideas so I have questions >:3

i hope its ok that im asking about something related to like . whats admittedly my guilty pleasure headcanon bc it lets me project onto the ghouls sobs but . i know chronically ill zeph + occasionally rain and phantom is a common hc, but is that something you have ideas for ? bc I've seen some neat ideas about how chronic illnesses manifest for ghouls vs humans, so I was curious :3

GRABS YOU. GRABS YOU. I HAVE A *LIST* OF GHOUL MEDICAL THINGS HOLD ON

ok so, here is ^^ my list of ghouls and some of the medical stuff i hc them with: (big list,,, ish. so imma put it under tha cut ^^)

Omega: - Hip Dysplasia (Uses a Cane) Delta: - Ménière’s disease: a balance disorder. It’s caused by an abnormality in part of the inner ear called the labyrinth. Fluid buildup here can cause a severe spinning feeling (vertigo) and affect the hearing. (Due to balance problems he requires crutches) - Chronic Fatigue Syndrome: Extreme fatigue that can't be explained by an underlying medical condition. - Acquired Immune Deficiency: Immune system weakened due to elemental transition Aether: - Rheumatoid arthritis Phantom: - Hypermobile EDS (hEDS) - Stomach / Digestive issues caused by his hEDS Aurora: - Hypermobile EDS (hEDS) - Heartburn caused by her hEDS Zephyr: - Idiopathic Scoliosis - Sciatica - Chronic Pain - Fatigue Dewdrop: - Acquired Immune Deficiency: Immune system weakened due to elemental transition

:)

[doumadono]

I’m really struggling with my borderline personality disorder. Like I’m feeling my split happening. I don’t have therapy until September. I don’t feel safe I am afraid I’ll blow up on my closest people because I’m getting so upset about people leaving me and it’s sending me into a split about how I knew they didn’t care, how they didn’t want me.

So I was hoping maybe Touya/Dabi where he sees you about to split, he sees you clenching your teeth and you’re snapping at anyone who talks to you and he knows it time to ground you because he could see how bad you’re getting.

There's more to us - Dabi x Reader

Warnings: mentions of emtional swing, f!reader Synopsis: as your anger and frustration teeters on the brink of an emotional split, Dabi unexpectedly becomes the comfort you've been seeking A/N: I'm truly sorry to hear that you're going through such a challenging time with your BPD. It's completely valid to feel the way you're feeling, but remember that you're not alone in this journey. While waiting for your therapy in September, consider reaching out to friends who can lend an understanding ear. It's important to remind yourself that your emotions are valid, and you don't have to go through this alone. You're stronger than you realize, and with time and support, you can find healthier ways to cope with your feelings. Stay strong, and please prioritize your well-being above all else ♥ I hope this fic brings you some comfort

MASTERLIST

The cramped League of Villains hideout was filled with an uncomfortable tension that seemed to cling to the air, intensifying with every passing moment. You, normally full of energy and wit, were now a storm of emotions on the brink of splitting. Clenched teeth and tense muscles were visible signs of the inner turmoil you were struggling to contain.

The tension was palpable. The air seemed heavy with unease, and the atmosphere was fraught with the telltale signs of a looming storm. Dabi leaned against a wall, his azure gaze flickering over the scene before him. He had seen this before — the rapid shifts in mood, the intense reactions to perceived abandonment — it was all too familiar. He recognized the signs of a potential split, a cascade of emotions that threatened to engulf everything in its path.

You were seated on the edge of a worn-out couch, your clenched fists trembling and your jaw tightly locked as if trying to contain the turmoil within you. Your voice, usually soft and warm, was edged with bitterness and frustration. Every word you spoke came out sharper, like daggers slicing through the air, and the way you snapped at Kurogiri and Shigaraki moments prior made it clear that your emotions were spiraling out of control.

Dabi's lips pressed into a thin line as he observed you, his mind calculating the best approach. He knew better than to let the situation escalate further. With a resigned sigh, he pushed himself off the wall and approached you cautiously, gauging your reaction. "Hey," he said softly, his voice a soothing murmur that contrasted with the storm inside you. "You're wound up, and I can see that. But snapping at everyone won't help."

You shot him a glance, your eyes a stormy mix of emotions, and then turned away, unable or unwilling to fully meet his gaze.

Dabi could see the storm swirling in your eyes, a tempest of fear, anger, and desperation. He sat down beside you, allowing a few moments of silence to hang between you before speaking again. "I've seen this pattern before, and I want to help you through it."

"Dabi, just leave me alone," you muttered, your tone a mix of defiance and vulnerability. "Just fuck off, man."

He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I'm not here to piss you off, yeah. I get it, alright? It's not easy. But taking it out on them won't change a thing. I just want to help ya out, okay?"

Shigaraki perched on a high stool at the bar, an air of nonchalance masking his observant nature. His fingers idly tapped against the rim of the glass as he watched the scene unfold, his crimson eyes tracking every nuance of your reactions. It wasn't often that he paid such close attention, but something about your current state intrigued him.

Kurogiri, standing behind the bar with an air of elegance that was second nature to him, observed with equal attention. As he poured the deep amber liquid into a glass for Tomura, he couldn't help but glance at you occasionally, concern etched into his misty features.

You scoffed, your fingers digging into your palms as if trying to anchor yourself. "Help? You don't understand, Dabi. Nobody does, so please, fuck off," your voice laced with spite.

A flicker of empathy crossed Dabi's features. He understood that feeling all too well — the sensation of being trapped in your own emotional whirlwind. He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Maybe I don't understand everything, but I've seen you fight through this before, Y/N. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

You shot him another skeptical glance, your expression a mixture of vulnerability and defiance.

Dabi's cool demeanor belied the concern that burned beneath the surface. He reached out, his hand gently covering one of yours, the touch warm and grounding. "You've got people here who care, but pushing them away is only making things worse, yeah?'

You shivered involuntarily as Dabi's fingers brushed against your hand, a sensation that sent a jolt of both surprise and warmth through you. Your instinctive reaction was to withdraw your hand from his touch, a reflex born from a mixture of nervousness and uncertainty. However, his touch was unlike anything you had expected. Despite the initial shock, his calloused palm felt surprisingly warm, inviting, and oddly comforting. The contrast between your initial reaction and the reality of his touch sent conflicting signals racing through your mind. Your breath caught, a mixture of frustration, sadness, and desperation evident in your expression. "I'm just… I'm so afraid of being left behind. It's like everyone I care about is going to disappear, and there's nothing I can do about it."

Dabi smirked a little. The fear of abandonment, the sense of being unlovable - it was the hallmark of your condition. And as much as he was known for his aloofness, his stoic demeanor, he also had an uncanny knack for sensing what others needed. "I'm not leaving," he said firmly, his voice carrying a sense of reassurance that cut through the chaos in your mind. "None of us is. You're not alone in this, no matter how much it might feel that way."

Tomura's voice cut through the air suddenly, surprising you as he agreed with Dabi's words. A faint quirk of his lips hinted at an almost rare camaraderie between the two. "He's right. Sometimes, pushing people away only makes things worse. You're not the only one dealing with struggles though."

"Who knew I had it in me to be a motivational talker, huh?" Dabi grinned at his colleagues.

"Dabi and Tomura have a point. Emotions can be overwhelming, but they're also a source of strength if you learn to harness them. Control doesn't mean suppression - it means finding balance instead," Kurogiri added.

He could see tears forming in your eyes, a mix of vulnerability and relief. Your shoulders sagged as you finally allowed yourself to let go of some of the weight you were carrying. "I don't want to push people away," you whispered, your voice breaking.

Dabi nodded, his thumb gently brushing over the back of your hand. "It's a struggle, I know. But remember, you have control over your actions. Now, look at me," he said firmly, his voice carrying an edge that demanded your attention.

As you met his gaze, he continued, his words measured but resolute. "There's a wide range of negativity within me, yeah, a storm that used to tear me apart. But I stopped running from it. I embraced it, every jagged edge of it." His honesty was a stark contrast to the aloof facade he often portrayed. In that moment, his vulnerability was on display, a raw revelation of the internal struggle he had faced. "Embracing it, my inner demons," he continued, his voice steady, "it made me more focused. More powerful. The chaos became my strength."

As if the dam had burst, your emotions flowed out in a torrent. Your shoulders shook as tears fell, a mixture of pain and relief.

Dabi's arms wrapped around you, holding you gently but firmly, providing the anchor you so desperately needed. "I've got you."

You leaned into his touch, a mixture of exhaustion and relief washing over you. The storm within you hadn't completely dissipated, but Dabi's presence had provided a lifeline, a reminder that you weren't alone in this battle.

As the minutes ticked by, the tension in the room gradually began to ease. Dabi remained by your side, offering a quiet and unwavering presence that served as a stark contrast to the chaos you had been feeling. Slowly, your jaw unclenched, and the tightness in your chest began to subside.

"You know," Dabi said with a faint smirk, "I'm not exactly known for being the comforting type."

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "No, you're not."

He chuckled softly, his eyes meeting yours with a spark of understanding. "But maybe I've got more empathy than I let on."

Tomura downed his drink, his lips curling into a faint smirk as he watched you and Dabi. As Dabi's fingers brushed against your skin and you leaned into his touch, Tomura couldn't help but let out a low, almost mocking "awwwww" sound. His voice held a mixture of amusement and teasing as he observed the unexpected camaraderie between you and Dabi. "Look at that, Kurogiri," he remarked, his smirk deepening. "Who knew Dabi could be someone's emotional support? It's like a twisted version of a feel-good movie."

"Maybe," Kurogiri mused, his fingers tapping against the bar counter, "there's more to us than meets the eye. More than just villains with quirks."

[monratarot]

Health indicators in tarot - Major Arcana meaning

Please like and reblog if you find this information useful! 🌸🎀💕

//don’t claim it as your own and/or repost it on other platforms//

ꕥFool~ Unexpected health events such as accidents and pregnancies. Diseases that are out of our control.

ꕥMagician ~ An over-active mind, watch for illnesses with thinking, communication, learning difficulties, memory problems.

ꕥHigh Priestess ~ Health issues involving hormonal imbalances. This card rules women, the uterus, ovaries, and breasts.

ꕥThe Empress ~ If poorly aspected it denotes laziness, sexual transmitted diseases, and stress from making poor lifestyle choices.

ꕥThe Emperor ~ Sports injuries, war injuries, injuries inflicted in anger, sharp objects harming us, isolation, injuries involving animals. Problems with head and face, blood and muscles.

ꕥThe Hierophant ~ Nutritional deficiencies, lack of emotional support, inadequate medical advice. On a positive note, a strong immune system that resists illnesses.

ꕥThe Lovers ~ Health issues of the skin, eyesight and hearing. Issues with any part of the body that comes in pair, such as eyes, ears, arms, legs, lungs, kidneys.

ꕥThe Chariot ~ Health issues related to genetics, mouth, womb and breasts. Ailments specific to women and pertaining to motherhood.

ꕥStrength ~ Issues with overwork, exhaustion, unhealthy lifestyle and habits and intimacy issues. Problems with heart, circulation, spine, vitality and ribs.

ꕥThe Hermit ~ Problems with the intestines, lower stomach, gallbladder, and spleen.

ꕥWheel of Fortune ~ This card governs the liver and its functions. Toxic build-up in the liver that can cause skin eruptions, low vitality, poor eyesight and allergies.

ꕥJustice ~ Ruled by Libra it governs organs in our core: lower back, kidneys, adrenals, ovaries and inner ear.

ꕥThe Hanged Man ~ This card rules drugs of all kinds and suggests issues with drug addicts, drug poisoning, over-medication or lack of medication. It also suggests sleep disorders, asphyxiation, hypnosis, memory problems, insanity, nervous breakdowns, delusions.

ꕥDeath ~ It rules groin and elimination organs, it suggests problems with the genitals, anus, colon, gonads, prostate, bladder, urethra, pubic bone, and hernias.

ꕥTemperance ~ This card rules anything hot, fast and intense, it suggests a sudden onset of fevers, burns and intemperate behaviour gone too far. Temperance rules exotic places indicating infections from a foreign land or person.

ꕥThe Devil ~ Issues with teeth, bones, joints and knees. Devil also suggests old age, colds, rheumatism, arthritis, aging skin, broken bones and chronic conditions.

ꕥThe Tower ~ This card suggests a sudden onset of symptoms, complications, infections, accidents and confrontations. Be aware of your blood pressure.

ꕥThe Star ~ Issues with ankles, legs, blood circulation, spasmodic complaints, nervous system.

ꕥThe Moon ~ Issues with mental health, alcohol, drugs, malnutrition, disorder of the lymph system, sleep issues, hidden diseases.

ꕥThe Sun ~ Sun burn, sun stroke, eyesight problems, skin cancers, vitamin D deficiency, heart disease, depression.

ꕥJudgement ~ Issues with man-made polluting, toxins, nuclear power, and waste.

ꕥThe World ~ Melancholy about aging and issues with aging. Stress from government agencies. Burdens and stress from carrying the worlds problems on your shoulder.

[gimmethatagustd]

let me adore you | kth + pjm

Jimin can’t bear to look at himself in the mirror, but he’s all that Taehyung has eyes for.

↳ pairing: taehyung x jimin

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | established relationship | hurt/comfort | smut | fluff

↳ wc/date: 8k | October 2023

↳ warnings: mental illness, depression, jimin has body dysmorphic disorder, very hurtful inner thoughts, the plot is basically nonexistent it's just smut and soft feelings lmfao, anal fingering, blowjobs, unprotected anal sex, body worship

↳ notes: pls be gentle with yourself as you read this story cuz jimin is very tough on himself, and it could be uncomfortable to read if you relate to his body image struggles. this fic was a submission for the AO3 BTS Hurt/Comfort Fest

↳ masterlist / taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? adore you - harry styles

Jimin’s clothes don’t fit. 

His lavender silk button-up keeps slipping off his shoulder, exposing his collarbones to the cool night air. It makes him tremble slightly, and Taehyung must notice because he pulls Jimin tighter against his chest. 

“How’s it going, love?” Taehyung hooks his chin over Jimin’s shoulder and turns his head to the side when he whispers the question. His voice is raspy from talking all night, and the deepness of it warms the pit of Jimin’s stomach, even in his sour mood. 

Jimin shrugs, and Taehyung lets out an amused huff at his boyfriend’s indecisiveness. His breath tickles Jimin’s neck. 

“Bored?” 

Taehyung smells like vodka and ginger beer from the Moscow mule he’s been nursing all night. He holds the copper mug in the hand that isn’t splayed against the lower half of Jimin’s tummy. As much as Jimin loves being in Taehyung’s embrace, the pressure of his hand is making Jimin’s skin crawl. He hates it when Taehyung touches his stomach. 

“I’m not bored,” Jimin says flatly. He’s not bored, but he’s not entertained, either. 

Going to Euphoria used to be the highlight of Jimin’s weekend. It’s Seoul’s most elite rooftop bar. Slipping past the bouncers guarding the glass elevator that takes patrons to the roof is possible thanks to being friends with Seokjin. Taehyung had met him through his best friend, Jungkook. It has been a little over two years since Seokjin came around, but he fit into their friend group almost immediately, even though Jimin and his friends are nowhere near as impressive as an actor. Seokjin is attractive, gregarious, and rich, but it’s his goofy personality that molds well with Taehyung and Jungkook's often childlike sense of wonder. 

Taehyung brushes his lips against Jimin’s neck as he murmurs, “Tired? Wanna go home?” 

The sensation makes the hairs on the nape of Jimin’s neck stand up, and the fire that seems to always burn in the pit of his stomach when Taehyung’s around flickers once again. It’s frustrating how easily Taehyung can make Jimin’s heart race, even when he isn’t in the mood for kisses and that velvety voice whispering in his ear. 

Jimin does want to go home, but he knows Taehyung and their friends are having fun. The whole reason why they’re out is to celebrate Taehyung graduating from his Ph.D. program and securing a position as a therapist. It would be rude of him to force Taehyung to leave his own party. He’s being a shitty boyfriend, bringing the mood down. Taehyung shouldn’t have to check in on Jimin while he’s celebrating such an important achievement. 

“Hyung, stop being so gross!” A voice cries out from Jimin’s left, and he turns to see Jungkook walking away from his conversation with Seokjin and a few people Jimin doesn’t know. 

Taehyung mumbles something into Jimin’s neck before straightening his posture. He finally lets go of Jimin, leaving his place behind Jimin to instead stand next to him. Ordinarily, the loss of contact would leave Jimin feeling cold, but tonight, he’s relieved. 

It makes Jimin feel awful. 

“Excuse me, I didn’t realize giving my boyfriend attention was gross,” Taehyung counters with a roll of his eyes. 

“The two of you are the worst about PDA!” Jungkook presses on with exaggerated exasperation. “You’re disgusting.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Taehyung parrots back. He reaches out with lightning speed to pinch Jungkook’s nipple through his shirt, twisting it with his index finger and thumb hard enough to make Jungkook squeal. 

“Aw, hyung, what the fuck!” Jungkook swats at Taehyung’s arm. He covers both nipples with his hands and turns to give Jimin a pout. It’s ridiculous. 

“You’re both being ridiculous,” Jimin mutters. He brings his drink to his lips, a gin and Coke that Taehyung nearly spit out when he took a sip earlier.

Jimin’s response isn’t what Jungkook was looking for, so he resumes harassing Taehyung about being “too whipped for his own good”. 

Normally, the playful altercation would make Jimin smile. It’s true; Taehyung is undeniably head-over-heels for Jimin, and they all know it – even before they started dating, back when Jimin and Jungkook were roommates, and Taehyung was simply “Jungkook’s best friend”. Taehyung had crushed on Jimin so hard it wasn’t a shock to anyone when he grew the courage to ask Jimin out. 

Taehyung’s love for Jimin is painfully obvious. It’s in the way Taehyung watches Jimin with such soft, kind eyes like Jimin is the most precious thing he’s ever seen. It’s in the way he holds Jimin in his large hands like he’s afraid Jimin might break. It’s in the way he melts under Jimin’s touch, even after five years of dating. Their honeymoon phase never ended. Despite how annoying, frustrating, and utterly terrible Jimin is, somehow, Taehyung still loves him. 

To avoid staring at Taehyung any longer, Jimin turns his attention to Jungkook. He looks good tonight, though he always does. 

Jungkook is big. What he lacks in stature, he makes up for in muscle. His biceps are getting thicker, and the buttons on his shirt strain when he moves his torso a certain way. He’s been working out more. 

Taehyung has gotten bigger, too. He has started going with Jungkook to the gym, mainly on the weekends, because Taehyung often offers late appointments for clients who can’t speak with him until after they’re off work. 

Over time, Taehyung has filled out, muscles developing in his broad shoulders that hadn’t been prominent before. When he wraps his arm around Jimin’s waist, Jimin notices the raised veins that run along his forearm, exposed from his sleeves being rolled up. 

It’s hot, but Jimin can’t enjoy his boyfriend’s developing physique. 

He looks down at his body as Jungkook and Taehyung bicker, their voices mixing in with the music playing from overhead speakers. 

Jimin is small. 

He can see his hip bones protruding from his skin-tight black jeans. He should’ve worn looser pants, but Taehyung likes Jimin in these jeans. He’s not sure why. All they do is accentuate how frail he is. 

It’s disgusting. 

Jimin shifts uncomfortably in Taehyung’s embrace. He can feel Taehyung’s fingers against his ribcage. When Jimin adjusts, Taehyung’s hand slides down to hold Jimin’s hip. 

Jimin’s waist is tiny enough that Taehyung can wrap his hands around him. When he inhales, he can see his ribs poking through his skin, and he knows from countless hours of staring at himself in the mirror that the knobby vertebrae of his spine are visible, too. 

Jimin prayed for his “adult body” to show up for years. He figured as he got older, he’d fill in a bit. He tried working out, but he’s not confident enough to lift weights at the gym with all the gym bros watching him, waiting for him to embarrass himself. And when he does cardio, he just loses more weight.  

All he wants is to be less… plain, bony, and unattractive. Not a stick, easily knocked over and bent in half. He wants to be soft and pretty. He wants hips and thighs for Taehyung to squeeze and hold onto. He wants to fill in his jeans and for his shirts to fit against a chest that isn’t so flat. No one wants to touch and kiss and fuck a skeleton. 

And he really wishes he could grow taller, though that obviously isn’t in the cards for him. 

He looks up at Taehyung and watches his side profile while he talks. His eyes are bright from being a bit tipsy, and he talks animatedly, swinging the hand holding his drink. Luckily, it’s nearly empty, or he’d have spilled it all over himself by now. 

Taehyung is gorgeous. He’s tall, all legs, with beautiful tan skin and beauty marks that make Jimin want to kiss him all over. Even when he was a little on the skinnier side, it made sense on him. He looks like a supermodel. 

Jimin can’t understand why Taehyung, someone so perfect, would want to date him. Especially when Taehyung could have anyone he wants. 

One of those anyones chooses now to saunter over to where the trio are talking. Leaning against the rooftop balcony’s glass railing, Jimin watches the man with growing irritation.

“Tae! Congratulations, my friend. I’m so happy for you.” 

And there’s that blinding smile so large it pushes deep dimples into the man’s cheeks. He’s just as tall as Taehyung and absolutely gorgeous, with tan skin and muscles that rival Jungkook’s. Jimin forces himself to take another sip of his drink to avoid scowling as Taehyung’s arm slips from his waist to wrap around the newcomer’s body instead. 

“Namjoonie hyung, thank you!” 

“I’ve got a gift for you, but it wasn’t ready yet. I’m sorry.” 

Taehyung waves Namjoon’s concerns away. “Ah, hyung, you didn’t need to get me anything at all.” 

“Don’t be silly, Tae,” Namjoon insists. “I’ll find a time for you to come over to my place so I can give it to you.” Namjoon brushes his shoulder against Taehyung’s. Although the force is light, it makes Taehyung take a step backward, and he bumps into Jimin. 

“Sorry, love,” Taehyung apologizes with a smile that makes Jimin’s head spin. 

Taehyung doesn’t look at Namjoon the way he looks at Jimin, but maybe one day he could. And why not? Namjoon fits Taehyung better. They look perfect together as Namjoon lifts his phone up to take a selfie, his cheek pressed against Taehyung’s. He and Taehyung met in college, years before Jimin moved in with Jungkook. Taehyung never said anything happened between the two of them; he always referred to Namjoon as a close friend. But he never said nothing happened, either. Just thinking about it makes Jimin’s stomach churn. 

Fueled by jealousy that he doesn’t feel like addressing, Jimin’s fingers pull at the sleeve of Taehyung’s leather jacket. 

“What’s up, baby?” 

“Can we go home?” 

Taehyung nods immediately without asking why, and warmth blooms in Jimin’s chest even as he feels like he’s going to be sick. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t have fun,” Taehyung mumbles the apology while he looks down at the space between where he and Jimin sit in the backseat of the taxi. He plays with Jimin’s fingers, paying particular attention to Jimin’s pinky, which is equally endearing and annoying. 

Their hands look pretty intertwined, Taehyung’s long and tan, the fingers of an artist and musician, while Jimin’s are short and stubby. It’s funny how even Taehyung’s fingers are perfect, whereas Jimin’s are just as ugly as the rest of him. Life works in mysterious ways, Jimin supposes. 

“I did have fun,” Jimin lies. 

He watches the city fly past them in streaks of white light and doesn’t look at Taehyung. If he does, Taehyung will know the truth. He probably already knows. It’s soulmate behavior, Seokjin would say. Jimin and Taehyung are tethered in a way no one understands. Jimin swears they’re so deeply connected that his soul aches when Taehyung is unhappy. 

Taehyung swears he feels the same way, which makes Jimin feel even worse.

Time passes strangely in the middle of the night. A twenty-minute car ride to their apartment feels like an eternity, yet hardly anything has changed once Jimin and Taehyung scoot out of the backseat. The air is chillier now, though Jimin’s sensitive response to the temperature may be due to the taxi driver blasting the heat on the drive over. He also doesn’t have any body fat on him to keep him warm, a thought that further sours his mood as he follows Taehyung into the lobby, where they wait for the elevator. 

Once inside, Taehyung hooks his finger through Jimin’s belt loop and pulls him forward until their fronts are pressed together. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, baby,” Taehyung murmurs into Jimin’s fluffy blonde hair with a squeeze of his hips. “I know you weren’t thrilled about going out, so I appreciate that you still went with me.” 

Despite his mood, Jimin melts into Taehyung’s embrace. Taehyung hugs like he’s trying to absorb the tension Jimin holds inside his body. Jimin breathes in his cologne, oak and spice, and the bite of vodka as he buries his face in Taehyung’s chest. None of the antidepressant medications lining the nightstand on Jimin’s side of the bed can give him the sense of relief a hug from Taehyung gives him, even if Taehyung’s hugs remind Jimin of how different their bodies are. Even if Jimin knows he can’t find a cure for his problems in another person. Taehyung feels good; some things are as simple as that. 

The sob that shudders through Jimin’s chest is abrupt and unexpected. He knows it catches Taehyung off guard because Jimin feels him suck in a deep breath, and his arms reflexively tighten around him. 

Honestly, it catches Jimin off guard, too. He cries so infrequently that Taehyung has commented on it. Something about occasional tears being psychologically good for him. 

Jimin doesn’t understand how crying can ever be a good thing. Embarrassment and shame ripple through him with each sob. There is a level of helplessness that comes with crying episodes. Losing control of one’s emotions is disheartening and sometimes even scary. It’s upsetting to know that Jimin will never be okay, no matter how hard he tries. 

“Oh baby,” Taehyung murmurs as he cups the back of Jimin’s head to hold him against his chest. “Will you tell me what’s wrong? Please?” 

“I f-f-feel…” Jimin’s whimpers prevent him from speaking clearly, though Taehyung has always been the more patient of the two. “I’m so ugly , Tae. I hate myself.” 

These aren’t words Taehyung hasn’t heard before, but he’s sincere when he asks, “What makes you say that?” Because the answer is always different, even when it’s the same. 

Jimin shrugs in Taehyung’s embrace. The ding of the elevator reaching their floor punctuates his silence. 

Bending slightly, Taehyung grabs the backs of Jimin’s thighs just below his butt and lifts him. Taehyung’s ability to easily carry Jimin has always been hot, though Jimin hasn’t dared to admit that out loud. Not that Taehyung has ever made him feel bad about his interests; it’s just that there are many things Jimin is too afraid to say to anyone. 

Jimin quickly wraps his legs around Taehyung’s waist and hugs his broad shoulders as Taehyung carries him out of the elevator. It’s late enough that the hallway is empty, though Taehyung wouldn’t care if someone saw them like this. Jimin keeps his face buried in the crook of Taehyung’s neck so he wouldn’t know either way. It’s safe here, breathing Taehyung in with his eyes squeezed shut. 

Taehyung adjusts his hold on Jimin to input their apartment passcode and kicks the door open. He doesn’t speak as he carries Jimin to their bedroom, though Jimin tunes into his steady breathing and attempts to mimic it to calm himself down. 

Once in the bedroom, Taehyung gently sits Jimin down on their bed. His thumbs swipe across Jimin’s closed eyes, brushing tears from his eyelashes. It’s gentle, far gentler than Jimin has ever deserved. 

“Jagiya,” Taehyung calls out to him softly. 

Jimin slowly opens his eyes and does his best to meet Taehyung’s. His expression is gentle; eyes crinkled at the corners as he looks at Jimin with so much love and adoration that Jimin feels he’ll combust from the warmth. 

“Which Taehyung would you like me to be tonight?” 

Jimin smiles despite his bleary eyes and tear-stained cheeks. It may be an odd question to an outsider, but for Jimin, it’s everything he loves about Taehyung. 

It’s a habit they’ve fallen into after five years of dating, developed after Jimin snapped at Taehyung for “psychoanalyzing” him one too many times, as a way for Taehyung to understand what Jimin needs from him in a moment of distress. Occasionally, Taehyung goes into Therapist Mode, as Jimin calls it. Therapist Taehyung can be helpful when Jimin is desperate for relief from the horrors of his mind. Still, sometimes Therapist Taehyung can make Jimin feel like he’s being poked and prodded, evaluated, and assessed, even when Taehyung doesn’t mean to come off that way.  

Boyfriend Taehyung doesn’t go into Therapist Mode. Boyfriend Taehyung is gentle and understanding without being judgmental. 

“I need Boyfriend Tae,” Jimin replies once he clears his throat. 

“Alright, Boyfriend Tae, it is,” Taehyung confirms with a boxy smile. “Boyfriend Tae needs to shower, and he’d like you to join him. Is that okay?”

Jimin nods and takes Taehyung’s outstretched hands, allowing Taehyung to pull him up from the bed. In one sweeping motion, Taehyung lifts Jimin into his arms, carrying him bridal-style into the bathroom. 

“I hate that you can manhandle me,” Jimin grumbles once Taehyung places him on the counter. 

“That’s very interesting,” Taehyung remarks in a sing-song voice as he begins unbuttoning his shirt. Inch by inch, golden skin on display. “Usually when I pick you up and throw you around, you’re babbling about how much you love how str–” 

“Shh!” Jimin presses his finger to his puckered lips, cheeks pink and sufficiently embarrassed. For a moment, his insecurities are forgotten, replaced by heat simmering in his stomach when Taehyung’s pretty hands begin unbuckling his belt. 

He watches Taehyung’s eyes zero in on his finger and knows he isn’t looking at his mouth but instead the tattoo of a seven on the inside of his finger: July 7th, their anniversary. When Taehyung strips out of his slacks once his shirt is discarded on the floor, he reveals his matching tattoo on his thigh. They got them on their first anniversary – a decision most of Jimin’s friends warned him against. Rightfully so. Getting matching tattoos after only a year of dating seems like a risk, but Jimin knew Taehyung was his forever since their first kiss. 

“You don’t have to shower with me if you don’t want to, jagiya.” 

Taehyung stands between Jimin’s legs, grabbing the counter's edge on either side of his hips. While Jimin was lost in his thoughts, Taehyung finished undressing. The only thing remaining is a thin gold chain resting on his pronounced collarbones. The chain matches the dangly earring hanging from his left earlobe. Taehyung looks so pretty in dainty jewelry yet still holds onto his particular brand of elegant masculinity. 

“Chim?”

Jimin blinks, forcing himself to stop thinking about how pathetic he looks next to Taehyung.

“Hmm?” 

“Are you going to shower in your clothes?” 

“No…” 

Unable to meet Taehyung’s dark eyes, Jimin tucks his chin to his chest. While Taehyung reaches behind his neck to remove his chain, Jimin wiggles off the counter to remove his clothes. He keeps his back to the mirror, afraid to look at what he knows he’ll see there. It’s bad enough that he can watch the front of his body as he sheds his clothes, each one a protective layer, like a snake shedding its skin. But Jimin isn’t strong beneath the fabric; the more he takes off, the smaller he becomes. 

“Can I help?” 

Taehyung’s fingers brush against Jimin’s neck as Jimin steps out of his jeans. The touch makes him shiver. He nods, and Taehyung gently removes Jimin’s diamond stud earrings, placing both silver hoops on the counter alongside Taehyung’s chain and dangly earring. 

“There you go.”

“Thank you,” Jimin whispers. 

“Of course, baby.” 

Stepping away, Taehyung slides the glass shower door open and sticks his hand under the running water. Jimin’s not sure how he keeps losing track of reality; he only now realizes that the shower is running. Perhaps it’s his way of stalling, of avoiding what’s about to happen. 

A shower is never just a shower. 

“C’mon, love.” 

Showers are easier with Taehyung. Jimin gets to close his eyes and lean his head back as Taehyung’s nimble fingers massage shampoo into his hair. He doesn’t have to look at his body because Taehyung washes him with a sudsy washcloth. When it’s time to get out, Taehyung wraps Jimin in the fluffiest towel they own and whisks him away before he can catch a glimpse of his naked body in the mirror. 

Jimin keeps the towel wrapped around his body while he sits on the bed and watches Taehyung. Nudity disgusts him when it’s his bare body, but he can never grow tired of the beauty of Taehyung’s naked body. Taehyung saunters around the room with confidence Jimin could only dream of. Even with his wet hair and soft cock, he looks like a god among men as he puts away their jewelry for safekeeping. 

Catching Jimin’s eye through the mirror, Taehyung grins, boxy and wide. 

“Were you checking out my ass, Park Jimin?” 

With a roll of his eyes, Jimin tugs the towel tighter around his body. Such a ridiculous question doesn’t deserve a response. 

Taehyung, however, is stubborn. Kneeling on the bed, he invades Jimin’s personal space as he leans forward, his hands resting on either side of Jimin’s thighs. He’s wearing the mischievous grin that makes Jimin’s stomach flip. 

“Do you know how cute you are?” Taehyung asks, cocking his head to the side as he admires Jimin – what on him, specifically, he has no idea. “So fucking cute. I could eat you.” 

Jimin shivers. He leans back as Taehyung crawls forward until he’s eventually flat on his back. 

“Boyfriend Tae is turning into Menace Tae,” Jimin mumbles, unable to meet Taehyung’s eyes. They’re dark and lidded. 

“Hmm.” Taehyung presses his palms into the mattress on either side of Jimin’s head, just above his shoulders. 

Jimin naturally parts his legs so Taehyung can fit between them, causing the towel to hike up. When he shifts slightly, he can feel Taehyung’s cock rest against the inside of his thigh, warm and heavy – and a source of comfort, as odd as that may seem. The feeling is difficult for Jimin to explain. Having Taehyung so close that nothing separates them has always shaken Jimin to the bone. Nothing is so pure or sure of a reminder that Taehyung is here . He is alive, perfect, and present – all for Jimin to drown himself in the vanilla scent of his body wash and the fruity tartness of his shampoo. To be suffocated by such warmth would be more than Jimin deserves. 

“Menace Tae would like to kiss you. Would that be okay?” Taehyung wets his lips as he waits, eyes gentle even if he does look like he wants to eat Jimin whole. 

“Yes,” Jimin says with an exhale. 

Gently cupping Jimin’s face, Taehyung leans down and slots their lips together. Jimin feels his stomach swoop, an exhilarating energy thrumming through him when Taehyung sighs into his mouth. Despite the drag of Taehyung’s tongue along Jimin’s bottom lip and the light nibble he gives it, the kiss is relatively chaste.

Taehyung gently runs his fingers through Jimin’s hair, tugging the ends with the slightest force needed to tilt his head to the side. The new position allows him to deepen the kiss as their mouths move together effortlessly. Taehyung’s lips are soft from the lip balm he always uses after a shower. It tastes lightly of strawberries and cream and easily makes his lips glide over Jimin’s. 

Being with Taehyung is always like this: easy. Love flows from him effortlessly, and Jimin takes takes takes. They don’t part until Jimin whimpers into Taehyung’s mouth. Taehyung pulls back slightly, just enough to give them space to catch their breath – as if Jimin could possibly be anything other than dizzy in such proximity to him. 

Jimin can’t remember the last time they kissed like that. He can’t remember when they last kissed at all, aside from the (usually) innocent little kisses Taehyung likes to cover him with. Rarely is it that Jimin’s cheeks, forehead, and nose escape Taehyung’s kisses. Physical intimacy was once a love language they both shared. 

Eventually, Jimin became distant. And Taehyung, sweet Taehyung, never pushed him even though it meant little to no intimacy with the love of his life. 

All the more reason for Taehyung to find someone new. 

“I love you so much.” 

Taehyung's whispers are the crackle of embers simmering in a fireplace. Jimin can taste their smokiness on his lips if he concentrates hard enough on his words and less on how scared he is that Taehyung will touch the ugly parts of him. 

When Taehyung leans further back, Jimin’s startled to see a small, sad smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Do you not love me anymore, Jimin?” 

“W-what?” Jimin swallows around the lump forming in his throat, apprehension building inside him. 

He watches with bright, glossy eyes as Taehyung reaches out to skim his fingertips along his jaw. It tickles as Taehyung starts just below his ear and glides like a ghost along the sharp edge until he reaches the curve of Jimin’s chin. 

“Just tell me,” Taehyung commands softly, pressing his thumb against Jimin’s plush bottom lip. He pulls down on it slightly, forcing Jimin’s lips to part. “Please.” 

The answer is so obvious Jimin wants to scream. He wants to take Taehyung by the shoulders and shake him until his pretty hair is in disarray and his cheeks are flushed. How can Taehyung not know? How can Taehyung hover over Jimin, damp hair haloing his bent head, honey gold skin glowing in the soft bedroom lighting, and think that there could be a universe in which Jimin doesn’t love him? 

Tears prickle at the corners of Jimin’s eyes as he struggles to maintain eye contact. His hands shake when he presses his palms against Taehyung’s cheeks, their arms interwoven like the rest of their bodies.

“Of course, I love you,” Jimin whispers. 

Taehyung hums, leaning into Jimin’s touch. “Say it again.” 

“I love you,” Jimin repeats. He shouldn’t say what comes next, but he does. The confession tumbles out of him just as haphazardly as his confession in the elevator, though this one isn’t one Taehyung is familiar with. “I-I don’t deserve your love, Tae.” 

Taehyung’s reaction is expected. His eyes fly open, hard and blazing, and a sharp wrinkle forms between his eyebrows. 

“What did you just say?” 

Jimin lets his hands fall from Taehyung’s face. He lowers his gaze and tries to turn away, but Taehyung grasps his chin to keep him in place. “I don’t deserve you.” 

Tilting Jimin’s chin, Taehyung returns his thumb to Jimin’s mouth, this time pulling his bottom lip away to stop Jimin from chewing on it. 

“You deserve even more than I could ever possibly give you, Park Jimin,” Taehyung murmurs. 

The praise is too much for Jimin to bear. He wants to be defensive, to tell Taehyung that he’s being ridiculous. There can’t possibly be truth to what he says. He even opens his mouth to say so, but Taehyung’s lips lock with his before any self-deprecating words can come out. 

It’s impossible not to fall into the trap of Taehyung’s sweet taste. All it takes is the slight pressure of Taehyung’s tongue swiping against his bottom lip for Jimin to melt completely. Parting his lips, he lets Taehyung lick at the inside of his mouth. Their tongues brush against each other before Taehyung bites Jimin’s plump bottom lip and tugs, sucking on it lightly before he finally lets go, only to dive back in to press an even more bruising kiss to Jimin’s lips. The words are unspoken, but Jimin feels them through the electricity that passes between their bodies: I love you, mine, mine, mine. 

Jimin’s stomach flutters as he feels Taehyung’s hand slip beneath the fluffy folds of his towel and slide along his hip bone. His touch is cold compared to the heat of Jimin’s skin from being snuggled in the towel. 

“It hurts me to hear you talk about yourself like that, jagi,” Taehyung’s voice cracks with emotion. He speaks against Jimin’s lips. “Please don’t say those things.” 

Their eyes remain closed as they breathe in each other, the dizzying feeling of having Taehyung so close to him making Jimin need to hold onto something. He grips Taehyung’s biceps and relishes in the feel of the muscles flexing beneath his fingers. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin apologizes, meaning to say even more, but Taehyung hushes him because no apologies are needed. Only change – the promise to be kinder to himself. It’s something Taehyung practically begs of Jimin, and it seems like it should be so easy. Yet they’ve gone through this before. 

“You are so beautiful, Chim,” Taehyung speaks into the air they breathe between them. “Not just your body, but your soul, too.” 

Squirming at what feels like unearned praise, Jimin tries to scoot up the bed to get from under Taehyung. “Okay, Jesse McCartney.” 

“Shut up. I’m trying to be serious here.” The biting words are paired with a lopsided grin as Taehyung stalks Jimin up the bed, his hands caging in Jimin’s head and his knees spreading Jimin’s thighs. “Let me appreciate my baby for a second, okay?” 

“I would rather appreciate you,” Jimin mumbles. 

“Ah, none of that. No diverting the attention away from yourself, Jimin-ssi.” 

In response, Jimin lets out a shuddery breath when Taehyung traces his fingers along his inner thigh. It’s a sound that Taehyung notices because they’re both in tune with each other’s bodies. It scares Jimin sometimes, even as delicious as it is when Taehyung uses that connection to touch all the right spots to light Jimin up. Taking advantage of how Jimin’s eyes have fluttered shut, Taehyung leans down to press a kiss at the corner of his jaw and then trails them, hot and open-mouthed, down Jimin’s neck. 

“I don’t want to talk about me,” Jimin finally manages to get out, his voice nearly breaking when Taehyung dips his tongue into his collarbone. 

“Talking about you is my favorite thing to do,” Taehyung gently scrapes his teeth against Jimin’s clavicle in a playful bite, “aside from kissing you. Loving you. Fucking you .” Taehyung whispers those last few words, and Jimin can feel him smirk against his skin when he shivers. 

“Such vulgar language,” Jimin scolds, yet he loosens his grip on his towel to let it slide off his shoulders, exposing more skin for Taehyung to plant kisses against. Heat pulls in Jimin’s gut as Taehyung sucks a hickey on his throat. He throws his head back against the bed, long, pretty neck on display. 

“Not vulgar, just honest.” Taehyung presses his finger to the underside of Jimin’s chin and gently coaxes him to turn his head in the opposite direction so he can have access to the other side of his neck to devour. 

A quiet moan slips from Jimin’s plump, parted lips when Taehyung’s semi-hard cock brushes against his own. At some point, the rest of his towel fell away, and Jimin realizes he forgot how powerful Taehyung’s attention is. As long as Taehyung has been kissing him, he hasn’t thought about the self-conscious embarrassment of being naked. 

Taehyung rests his forehead against Jimin’s, his pretty eyes fluttering closed. 

“Let me worship you, jagi,” Taehyung murmurs. “You deserve to be worshiped. I’m so sorry I haven’t done a good enough job showing you just how divine you are. ‘Cause that’s what you are, love. Divine. Heavenly.” 

“It’s not your–” 

“Yes, it is. It’s my job to take care of you, just as you take care of me. And you do so well, baby. You’ve been there for me, even when it’s been hard for you. I can’t begin to express how much I appreciate you. So, please, let me show you?” 

Taehyung watches Jimin with an intensity that makes Jimin feel like he’s flayed, raw, and waiting to be consumed. But, rather than feel scrutinized, Jimin feels safe under Taehyung’s undivided attention. 

Waiting for Jimin’s response, Taehyung sits back on his heels, knees still spread with Jimin’s thighs resting on the outside of Taehyung’s. He rubs his thumbs along Jimin’s hip bones in a swirling pattern that gives Jimin something to ground himself in. 

“I love you,” is Jimin’s response, and the lopsided grin returns to Taehyung’s face. He licks his lips and runs his palms flat against Jimin’s sides, gliding upward to his chest. When his thumbs brush Jimin’s nipples, Jimin lets out a little gasp that makes Taehyung’s grin widen. 

“So sensitive,” Taehyung murmurs, his voice thick with desire. He drags his hands down Jimin’s torso until they rest on his spread thighs. “Can I suck you off, jagi? Will you let me make you feel good?” 

Instinctually, Jimin tenses his thighs and squeezes Taehyung’s legs. “Y-yes, please,” he whimpers. 

“Always such good manners, hm, jagi? Such a well-behaved boy for me,” Taehyung praises as he lies between Jimin’s legs. He looks so pretty with his broad shoulders keeping Jimin spread open. The sight makes Jimin’s cock throb. 

“Tae,” Jimin whines, hands flying up to cover his face. It’s been so long since they’ve been intimate, and Jimin has always been shy about sex. Dirty talk never fails to make his cock twitch and his cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

“Hmm, baby? What was that?” Taehyung teases. He flicks his tongue against Jimin’s balls and releases an appreciative giggle when Jimin whines again. 

“Stop teasing me.” 

There is no denying that Taehyung has always given Jimin what he wants. It’s his weakness, his biggest character flaw. He can’t say no to the boy with fluffy blonde hair and pouty lips who looks at Taehyung with round eyes as Taehyung licks a stripe up his cock from the thick base to the wet tip.

“Anything for my soulmate,” Taehyung murmurs, his lips brushing against the head of Jimin’s cock, bottom lip sticking to the tip from the precum dribbling out. It’s beautifully sinful, filthy and loving, seeing Taehyung’s lips stretch around Jimin’s cock. 

Taehyung suckles the head, massaging his tongue against the underside where the nerves are sensitive. More precum leaks from Jimin just as quickly as moans spill from his lips. 

“Look at me,” Taehyung commands in a voice thick with lust. His tone makes goosebumps prickle across Jimin’s arms. 

Raising up on his elbows slightly, Jimin watches as Taehyung slowly takes Jimin’s cock down his throat, his dark eyes never leaving Jimin’s. His mouth's warm, wet heat is enough to send Jimin’s head back as a loud, broken moan rips from his throat. A hard pinch to the inside of his thigh has Jimin snapping his head back up, just to see Taehyung narrow his eyes and hum as he begins to bob his head. 

Look at me . 

Jimin has to behave because he said he would, and Taehyung likes it when he does what he’s supposed to. So he keeps his hips flat on the bed and watches Taehyung take him all the way until his sharp, pretty nose presses against Jimin’s pelvis. 

“Fuck, you taste so good,” Taehyung groans as he takes a moment to breathe. “You have the most perfect cock, jagi. So thick and pretty.” Taehyung dips his tongue into Jimin’s slit, and Jimin thinks he might cum already. 

Of course, Taehyung can tell. He’s teasing him on purpose, flicking his tongue against the tip of his cock repeatedly before suckling it, swirling his tongue around the ridge of the head. It’s maddening that he won’t take more of him into his mouth again, but Jimin knows Taehyung is trying to work him up. 

“Please, Tae,” Jimin tries to beg, knowing it won’t work. All he receives in response is a devilish smile as Taehyung tilts his head to pepper Jimin’s cock with open-mouthed kisses. 

“Pretty cock for a pretty boy.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

“But you should know how pretty you are.” Pulling away from Jimin completely, Taehyung licks his lips free of precum and spit. “You’d look even prettier split open on my cock.”  

“Taehyung!” 

“What? It’s true, isn’t it?” 

Groaning with both hands covering his face again, Jimin gently kicks Taehyung in the thigh when he kneels on the bed to reach for the bottle of lube neglected in their nightstand drawer. His hands remain on his burning face when Taehyung settles back between his legs and he hears the bottle cap open. 

“Hey, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung calls out. His voice is gentle, and when Jimin peeks through his fingers, he finds a soft look has replaced the dark lustfulness of Taehyung’s eyes.

“Yes?” 

Something about Jimin’s straightforward response makes Taehyung chuckle. He shakes his head, making his slightly damp dark curls sway over his forehead. “I think we’re kind of horny.” 

“Stop being nasty!” Jimin tries to kick him again, but Taehyung presses his hand to the inside of Jimin’s thigh. 

“I’m serious!” Taehyung insists with a laugh. “I just mean, I don’t want us to rush into this when our emotions were so high earlier. I want to make sure you are okay with this since it’s been a while, and you’ve been sad...” 

It’s so sweet how Taehyung cares for Jimin. It may be unhealthy to think that there isn’t anything wrong with Taehyung, but Jimin truly believes it. Perhaps selflessness is his one red flag. Regardless, it hurts Jimin’s heart from how cared for he feels as Taehyung stares down at him with adoration that he still can’t believe he fully deserves. 

One day, he thinks. One day, he’ll be convinced. 

“Don’t make me say it,” Jimin complains with a pout and puppy eyes. It typically doesn’t work, but he tries it just in case. 

“You must.”

“Why?”

“Consent is sexy, love.” 

With a huff, Jimin spreads his thighs a bit wider and does his best to put on a brave face when he looks Taehyung directly in his eyes and says in his most polite tone, “I would like you to fuck me, please.” 

“Mmm, that’s what I like to hear.” Jimin gives him another kick. “Hey! You better watch it.” Taehyung’s eyes sparkle with nothing but love, and Jimin knows that despite his insecurities, his eyes sparkle like that, too. 

Taehyung was right, though. They haven’t had sex in a while due to Jimin’s insecurities, and Jimin certainly hasn’t fingered himself recently. It’s evident in how tight Jimin is as Taehyung presses a lubed finger past his rim. It isn’t uncomfortable, but Jimin tenses anyway. Too many thoughts circulate in his head. Will he be too tight? Will he make Taehyung uncomfortable? What if they can’t have sex at all? What if it hurts Jimin? What if Taehyung thinks Jimin is being too difficult and gives up on him? 

“Jagi, can you relax for me?” Taehyung is gentle when he pushes a second finger in. Jimin watches him pour a little more lube to help with the slide. “You’re doing so good, just lie back, okay? Let me take care of you.” 

“Okay, okay,” Jimin rushes to say, dropping back onto the bed. He holds one leg to his chest while Taehyung pushes back the other with his free hand. “Can you keep talking to me?” 

“Dirty talk? Like how badly I want to fuck you? How I was thinking about it all night during the party because you looked so sexy in that outfit, wearing my favorite jeans on you that make your ass look–” 

“Oh my god, Taehyung.” Jimin smiles at the ceiling when he hears Taehyung chuckle. 

“Is it working?”

It is, but Jimin doesn’t want to tell him that. Besides, Taehyung already knows it’s working; he has three fingers in and is applying light pressure to Jimin’s prostate. Jimin trembles as Taehyung massages his most sensitive spot. Even though it’s slow and barely much of a caress, Taehyung’s skillful fingers work Jimin into a whimpering mess, coaxing moan after moan out of him until the room is full of Taehyung’s name and the squelch of lube. Jimin’s free hand fists the bed sheets above his head to give himself some semblance of self-control when Taehyung reaches up to circle a lubed finger around Jimin’s perky nipple. 

“Your nipples are so cute,” Taehyung muses, dragging his wet finger across Jimin’s chest to swirl around the other nipple. 

Jimin tries to scoff, but instead, he moans when Taehyung pinches his nipple. “N-nipples aren’t c-cute,” he stammers. 

“Yours are.” 

“They look, oh fuck,” Taehyung leans forward to suck one of Jimin’s nipples as he continues tweaking the other, “T-the same as, ohh god, as yours, fuck.” Distracted, Jimin doesn’t tense when Taehyung slowly thrusts four fingers inside of him. 

“So you think my nipples are cute?” 

“Taehyung, please, I’ll cum,” Jimin hiccups, moisture gathering at his eyelashes. Taehyung’s teasing is too much for Jimin to handle. His thighs quiver uncontrollably, and his cock leaks onto his stomach as Taehyung massages his prostate with the slightest of touches. 

Having mercy on him, Taehyung slowly removes his fingers and uses the excess lube to stroke his neglected cock. It hangs thick and heavy between his legs. Jimin can’t help but admire it as Taehyung applies a bit more lube, drizzling it directly onto his cock and hissing at the temperature. There are plenty of reasons for Jimin to adore Taehyung; his cock is most certainly on that list. 

When Taehyung’s hand pauses its stroking, Jimin flits his eyes up to see a slight smirk playing on Taehyung’s lips. 

“First, you were checking out my ass, now you’re checking out my dick.” 

“Kim Taehyung,” Jimin tries to scold, but then Taehyung is pressing the fat head of his cock against Jimin’s rim, and suddenly he can’t seem to make his mouth form words. All he can do is let it hang open as Taehyung slowly pushes forward. 

“Fuck, you open up so beautifully for me, jagi.” Taehyung squeezes the back of Jimin’s thigh and adjusts the angle to open him up better. He slides into Jimin slowly, mindful of any potential discomfort, though Jimin can tell by how Taehyung clenches his jaw that he’s just as affected as Jimin. 

And, fuck, is Jimin affected. His arm gives out before Taehyung is even halfway in, and Taehyung has to throw Jimin’s legs over his shoulders because Jimin can’t hold himself open anymore. 

“S-sorry,” Jimin moans, scrambling to hold onto the sheets when Taehyung lifts his hips to pull him the rest of the way onto his cock. His big hands squeeze Jimin’s hips, thumbs massaging Jimin’s stomach as he slowly begins to thrust into him. 

“This okay?” Taehyung reaches out to brush a few strands of hair from Jimin’s face. His pace is slow but measured, each thrust hitting deep and sharp. 

“S-so good, Tae, you feel so good,” Jimin babbles, his entire body pulsing with desire as Taehyung hits his prostate with every thrust. 

“You deserve to feel good,” Taehyung whispers against Jimin’s leg when he turns his head to the side to press a kiss there. “And all I want to do is make you feel good. For the rest of my life.” 

“Fuck,” Jimin whimpers, blinking back tears. “Stop being so sweet. Go back to the dirty talk.” 

Taehyung tosses his head back in a deep laugh that rumbles from his chest, and it makes Jimin feel good to have a partner he can cry and laugh with during sex. 

Sex isn’t always so emotional with Taehyung. Sometimes, it’s sweaty and fast-paced, just skin slapping, scratches, and bruises. But tonight, Jimin has to hold himself back from crying as Taehyung whispers praises into his skin and rocks into him like it’s the only thing he wants to do. 

This is the embarrassing part where Jimin starts telling Taehyung how much he loves his cock, how full he feels, how special Taehyung treats him. It does nothing to help with Taehyung’s ego, of course, for he just grins down at Jimin and caresses the side of his face, and tells him, “My cock was made for you, baby. Made to fill up your perfect little hole and make you cry my name so prettily.” 

Taehyung’s thrusts are intentional; neither of them will last very long, and Taehyung knows that. He purposefully focuses on Jimin’s pleasure, fucking into him at the perfect angle. There’s something tender about how he places his right hand on Jimin’s lower stomach and presses down slightly. The pressure forces Jimin to relax his muscles while heightening the feeling of Taehyung’s cock diving deeper inside him with each snap of Taehyung’s hips. Years of being in a relationship have given Taehyung the time to learn Jimin’s body, but Taehyung’s care for Jimin makes him know his body. 

Even though Jimin hates his body more often than not, he can’t deny that Taehyung treats it with so much care that sometimes he thinks he can see the beauty Taehyung sees. Taehyung makes him beautiful. 

“God, you’re incredible, baby,” Taehyung says after he inhales sharply. “You take me so well, make me feel so good.” It’s hot how he looks down at where they meet as if he’s seeing them connected for the first time. 

Jimin feels lightheaded as Taehyung praises him, each languid declaration of adoration and love matching the easy roll of Taehyung’s hips against his. He squeezes the bunched-up bed sheets in his fists even tighter and tilts his chin in a silent request. 

Taehyung leans forward, pressing Jimin’s thighs against his chest to capture his lips in his own. They’re sloppier this time, Taehyung drawing Jimin’s tongue into his mouth and sucking it at the same smooth pace he’s fucking him. 

“I’m close,” Jimin gasps, quickly letting go of the bed with one hand to reach for his cock. 

“No,” Taehyung swats at Jimin’s hand, grabbing his wrist and holding it against the bed, “I’ve got you, jagi. We’ll cum today, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?” He smears the precum leaking from Jimin’s tip down the length of his cock and begins to pump his fist at the same pace as he fucks into Jimin. 

“Y-y-yess, please, Tae, I can, for you,” Jimin cries, and Taehyung has to hold him against the bed to stop his hips from bucking and throwing off Taehyung’s already slipping rhythm as he fucks them toward their release. 

It’s hot, letting Taehyung jerk Jimin off as he fucks him. It allows Jimin to give in to the pleasure without having to concentrate on getting himself off. He can let his brain turn to static, white noise enveloping him as he cums all over his stomach and chest with a silent cry. His mouth falls open in a perfect O-shape, and every muscle in his body constricts. 

The only sound that breaks through the static is Taehyung crying out his name in the sweetest of songs as he cums inside of him. 

“Fuck,” Taehyung groans, his grip on Jimin’s waist bruising as he lazily fucks his cum into him, sliding all the way out to watch the thick head of his cock push it back inside. It’s messy and wet and makes Jimin’s legs shake, but he relishes the oversensitivity because it’s been too long since he’s been brave enough to share his body.

It isn’t until Taehyung fully pulls out that Jimin begins to cry. It doesn’t help that the sweet praises and whispered promises of care from Taehyung increase tenfold when he scoops Jimin up into his arms and cuddles him, cum and all, against his chest. 

“Baby…” 

“This is so embarrassing,” Jimin groans, frantically wiping away the hot tears sliding sideways down his face. “I swear, I’m not upset.” And he isn’t. There’s just… pressure inside his chest, and the longer Taehyung holds him in his arms, the less pressure he feels. 

“Crying is natural,” Taehyung begins, dangerously close to turning into Therapist Taehyung, but the roughness of his after-sex voice makes it hard for Jimin to pay attention to much else. 

Ignoring Taehyung’s comment, Jimin nuzzles his face into the crook of his neck as Taehyung runs his hands over his back. “Why are you so perfect?” 

Taehyung snorts. “Perfection doesn’t exist.” 

Jimin pulls back far enough to look into Taehyung’s eyes. They’re no longer dark with lust, but the intensity of his love for Jimin will always be there. 

“I thought you said I was perfect.” 

“Oh, hush.” With a roll of his eyes, Taehyung crushes Jimin into his chest and swings his leg over his hip, sufficiently locking him into place. “You are the only form of perfection that exists. Is that better?” 

Jimin doesn’t believe Taehyung, not entirely, not yet. But he smiles against Taehyung’s warm skin and thinks he will one day. 

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 5

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

*! New warnings will be listed first !*

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.5k

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

Hi guys!!!! Thank you for reading and being so supportive of my first fic so far!!! I love you all ❤️ please let me know your thoughts on this chapter. We're not done yet!

___________

~ We alternate between Pedro + reader's thoughts in this one ~

"Hello?"

"Hello? Pedro? It's me.."

You heard him give a breathless laugh before answering with a gentle "Hi."

______

You laughed back, sounding equally shy but giddy. "Hi," you answer softly. "I hope I'm not being weird calling immediately after you gave me your number?"

"No, no! Not at all. I'm happy to hear from you" Pedro quickly quashed your worry.

"Okay" you whispered.

"So tell me more about this book you love," Pedro asked, trying to start up a conversation, any conversation, just to hear your voice.

The two of you discussed your favorite books, movies, shows, and continued on through other favorite things. Food, ice cream, music, your favorite flowers. You talked about dogs and told him about Skipper. You even shared his name and breed.

"Oh, Skipper! I was wondering about his name when you mentioned him in your interview, but you said you weren't ready to share. Thank you for trusting me. How'd he get his name?"

You smiled before jumping into a story about yours and Skipper's origin. "Well, a couple years ago… I was walking by the ocean down this pier with fishing boats, sailboats, and yachts docked on it. I heard a whimper coming from a corner of the dock and went over to investigate. There he was, small and scared. Just a puppy. He didn't have a collar and was covered in fleas. I tried to call him with no luck, but I also had just stopped at the grocery store and thought maybe I could lure him over with some jerky. But he wasn't interested. Too nervous."

"Hmm," Pedro listened.

You continued. "One of the fishermen walked down the pier with a bag from the same grocery store I had just left. He pulled out a can of wet food and tried to lure Skip over. Still no luck. I dug around my backpack to find something else, but the only food I had was a peanut butter sandwich I packed for my commute home. I took a shot and offered it to him, and weirdly.. that he accepted. The guy likes peanut butter," you said with a laugh.

"From then on, we were attached like glue. I couldn't find an owner for him and he didn't have a chip. We took care of the fleas and I decided to name him Skipper. Partially because of the boats, partially because I can call him Skippy for short, like the peanut butter."

Pedro gave a genuine laugh before complimenting the cute, yet sweet, name. "Does he still like peanut butter?"

"Oh he loves peanut butter. I can't even open a jar without him coming over from wherever he is in the house."

He hears you speak faintly to the side, away from the speaker. "Isn't that right my little peanut?"

"Boof," Skipper agrees.

Pedro laughed, grinning ear to ear. You couldn't see the joy on his face but you could feel it. "He sounds adorable. I love dogs."

"Me too," you smiled. The two of you discussed dogs you've raised over the years before you texted him a picture of Skip.

"Oh my GOD," Pedro exclaimed. "Look at those ears! He's adorable."

As if you couldn't like Pedro more, he's gushing over your dog the same way you do. 

You don't know if it's possible, but you hope someday you can have the two meet each other. 

Pedro didn't want to scare you and mention it, but he also hoped to meet Skipper someday. But more than that, he wanted to meet you.

_____

The conversation flowed so naturally, it felt as though the two of you had known each other a lifetime. It seemed the blink of an eye, but you had been on the phone for three and a half hours. 

"Y'know… I was kind of nervous to call you," you said shyly.

Pedro sighed "I was nervous to give you my number. Especially when you didn't reply right away. I worried I overstepped."

"No! I'm so glad you did. Because even though I was nervous, talking to you just feels…"

"Easy." You both answered, resulting in matching grins and blushes, neither of which are seen.

"It feels like we've been friends for years," Pedro continued.

"I agree" you say softly.

The conversation begins to close, but the two of you plan to talk on the phone again soon.

With that, you both hang up, and each begin to count down the time before the next call. In your respective houses, you flop on your bed, kicking your feet and blushing, while Pedro ran his hands down his face with a grin.

______

The next day, the two of you talk again. He called you this time.

Unfortunately, when he called, you were well into your workday. He didn't know you still worked a normal person's job.

"Hey P! I'm sorry I can't talk, I'm at work, can I call you in a few hours??"

"Oh shit, sorry! Yes." Pedro hung up frantically before he began to think. Did she just call me P? A nickname? He smiled to himself. He had been called many names, nicknames, and mispronunciations throughout his life. Some good nicknames, some… not so good. Other people have even called him P before. But never before had he heard a nickname from your lips.

_____ 

When you called him back after work, he decided to be bold. "Did you call me P?"

"Huh?" 

"Earlier when I called, did you say 'Hey P!' when you answered the phone?"

Your blood turned cold. Oh no. It slipped out. He hates that I used a nickname.

"I did. I figured it would be better for your privacy if I didn't say your name out loud."

"Oh. I see. Well, Pedro is a pretty common name."

Yeah but when your coworkers all know you're in love with Pedro Pascal, I don't think they'd be thinking of other Pedros.

"That's true. But some of my coworkers know I'm a big fan of yours so they might think I'm just delusional, haha" you answered… mostly honestly. Although you aren't sure "big fan" is the right word. It's just the safest.

Pedro thought about this and wondered: her coworkers know that she's a big fan? How big of a fan? Could I be the - nope, don't even go there.

"Big fan, huh? Well, thank you. I appreciate it. And I don't mind the nickname. I liked it. People call me a lot of names and I don't really mind." He had started to tease about the fan thing but decided to change gears.

"Oh good! I was worried I overstepped," you replied cautiously.

"You could never." And he meant it. With as much daydreaming as he's been doing lately, he's not sure there's much of anything you could do to overstep. He, however, worries he might. She's already in love with someone. Stop.

He cleared his throat and continued "so I didn't know you worked, outside of your music."

"Oh yeah, I mean the music is fairly new. Luckily my coworkers haven't figured it out yet, surprisingly." You continued to describe your job, Pedro listening intently (as if work was actually entertaining).

_____

After the work discussion, there was a quiet pause. "Hello?" You asked, wondering if Pedro had been disconnected.

He suddenly sounded serious. "Can I… uh.. ask you a question?"

"Oh. Um… Okay…" you replied, heart pounding.

"You mentioned your coworkers not finding out.. Do you think you're ever going to show people who you are?"

"Maybe someday…if they don't figure it out first."

"Do you think you'll ever tell your guy you love him?"

Your heart was ready to fly away it was beating so fast. "I'm thinking about it..."

"Can I ask - What's holding you back?" He asked cautiously, gently even.

Where to begin? You thought. But he doesn't need to know all that. He doesn't want to. You'll scare him off once he realizes what a mess you are.

"Eh, it's just my own silly worries! It's okay, I'll get over them I'm sure. I know I can't stay hidden forever," you deflected as best as possible.

"Anxiety is a hard thing to conquer, but your worries aren't silly if they bother you. If you ever need to go to someone, I'm here to talk."

"Thanks, Pedro. But really, don't worry about me. I'm okay."

"That's not fair to you. How often have you felt the need to say that? That you're okay, in order to not worry someone else?"

Every time I'm worried. Nobody needs to be burdened by my stress.

"Oh.. I um.. I just don't want to burden anyone over something I should handle myself…I don't want my friends to feel like I'm using them as my therapist."

Pedro's heart sank even more. "I hate that anyone could ever make you feel that way. But if you want to talk, I'm here to listen. You won't burden me. I promise."

You couldn't help the sniffle that escaped you. "I don't want to push you away." Your voice dropped down to practically a whisper "I don't want you to leave."

Pedro's heart broke. "Baby… the only way you'll push me away is if you tell me to leave. Let down your walls. Talk to me."

Did he just call me baby? You immediately snapped up, quieting your tears instantly.

The realization hit Pedro just the same. Shit, did I just slip and call her baby?! Oh what have I done? Tell me she didn't notice. Tell me she didn't hear me. She's worried about pushing me away, and I go and say something like that? 

Unsure of how to address the nickname, you decided to ignore it. He probably is just trying to be nice. Friends say things like that. Buddy, pal, babe, baby, love, honey. At least girl friendships do… ? It's probably nothing.

"Are you sure? I mean, you don't even know me that well," you hesitated.

"But I want to. It'll be okay. Let me in," Pedro said softly, cautious, like you'd flee.

And so you opened up. You told him about your anxieties. How it feels safer to just close yourself off from people. About not sharing your excitement and passion because people feel it's "too much." Not showing your feelings because your old crush said it was weird and pushed you away. Feeling like other people fit in so much easier than you ever can. Or how you wonder if your friends sometimes just are nice to you only because you're nice to them. How you're really nobody's favorite. 

With every word, Pedro's heart was breaking. All he wanted was to scoop you up in his arms and hold you until you believed all those things weren't true. Until you felt loved the way you deserved.

"But I guess one of the main reasons I haven't shown myself to the world is because of the things people have said about me without knowing me. About my music. About me being naive. Childish. Creepy even.." you continued.

"Those people are assholes. The second you get an ounce of fame and attention they'll do anything they can to knock you down. You're amazing. You're brave and bold and all you did was share your feelings and your voice. Those people just want to make themselves feel better about their own unhappy lives." Pedro spoke from his own experiences. Rumors and articles often spread like wildfire and it can be overwhelming. He isn't immune to that.

"Thank you. And I know that, but I think part of me believes they might be right… I really am just in my silly daydreams."

"They aren't right. You said it yourself, they don't know you. You know you. I'm starting to know you. I can already tell you aren't any of the nasty things people say, and those people couldn't even be half as good a person as you are." Pedro reassured.

"Thank you… but… well… can I ask you something?" You asked shyly.

"Of course."

"On the topic of what people have said… Another big reason I haven't told the guy I like is because I worry he wouldn't like me. Like he'd think the way those people do. You said earlier in your interview when you were asked - that if someone wrote a song or something like that about you, you'd still consider them. You'd give them a chance, even though they were clearly some obsessive fan. Were you telling the truth? Would you really give a fan a chance with you? Be honest with me," you pleaded nervously.

Pedro paused for a second, before answering with certainty. "Yes. I would feel at a bit of a disadvantage that they loved me before I got the chance to love them back... But I would give them a chance. As long as they're respectful, why shouldn't you? Who says celebrities should only end up with other celebrities? The world is full of people looking for and deserving of love. Including, especially, you."

Your heart fluttered around his words like a thousand butterflies taking flight at once.

"Thank you Pedro. You deserve that too. And if that's something you want too, I hope you find it."

Me. I hope you find me.

"Thank you. I hope you do too." He meant it. Even if it wasn't him, he wanted you to be happy.

"But lastly… I think a big reason I'm scared to show him who I am is…"

"Yeah?" Pedro could feel himself getting nervous.

"I don't… look like a celebrity. I don't look like those women in magazines. I'm not… skinny. I'm fat, and squishy… and I don't have flawless skin. I'm not… beau-"

"Stop," Pedro said.

"Sorry…" you fretted. You knew you'd push him away.

"No, no, no. Don't be sorry. But don't say to me that you aren't beautiful. Because you are. I don't even know what you look like but you're beautiful on the inside. And as far as the women in magazines? They've gone through hair and makeup and plastic surgery. They don't look perfect when you strip all that away. But you. We all have bad skin days. And you aren't defined by your body size. You may not be your own type. But for all you know, the man you are in love with might LOVE that you aren't skinny. He might love the curves and the natural beauty that you have. Not to mention that big heart of yours. You might just be his type."

You might be my type, he thought. 

You were crying now. Not a sniffle, but a genuine cry. And Pedro felt as though he must have made things much worse. Until you said "thank you Pedro. I'm sorry for putting all this on your shoulders. But thank you for your words. I know that I don't like my own body and I just assume others wouldn't as well. But maybe you're right. Maybe he would love me back."

"I think he will. You just need to give him a chance to see you the way you are. You deserve to be loved as you are. He will love you back."

And if he doesn't, I think I already do. Pedro finally admitted to himself.

__________

That's all folks! For this chapter at least. Thanks again for reading and stay tuned for more!

Next chapter! Here

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