#finally I can get these pictures out of my drafts

[tbwoe6]

A Word of Caution

It is easy to get wrapped up in the romance of a big movement which demands change. These days protest culture is almost a status symbol. We change our profile pictures to reflect our causes and we share videos on social media to “spread awareness,” when for the most part, we’re screaming into an echo chamber. I do it too, so I’m not judging. If anything, the digital collaborative diary that we’ve all been keeping probably has some therapeutic benefits— more likely, it cancels out the harm that it causes. The reason I drafted this post is to pass on a word of caution. I’ve been seeing a lot about this 50 protests in 50 states thing that is going on and I’ve been getting concerned.

First off, this was largely organized over Reddit, a site that is essentially the digital equivalent of a narc. Speaking as someone who has a put in a lot of volunteer hours in locating hidden profiles of missing persons, I can comfortably tell you that Reddit will hand over your information with next to no pushback— discord will do this too. It also has roots in BlueSky, and while I am a fan of Bluesky, it is far to new to know anything about how it may operate when faced with turning information over. Experienced organizers know this.

Secondly, when I did some digging, I found what is the equivalent of an invitation to the protest in my home town. The site had a few things that I need to see when it comes to organizing (rules, goals, a schedule.) Still, I found the red flag in that it offered no way to contact the organizer. The schedule did list the name of who is supposedly putting the event together, but I could not locate their profile anywhere. We absolutely have to make sure that when protesting what is going on right now, we are following people with experience. No faceless profiles if we are risking our bodies.

Finally, this movement seems to offer no protection for the people protesting. This is the biggest red flag of all. I’m seeing posts telling you to call out of work, but not telling you how they will ensure your financial security should you lose your job. I’m also not seeing anything about guaranteed legal representation in the incredibly likely event of arrests being made. This, to me, is exceedingly concerning.

The situation we have found ourselves in is new to our shores. I hesitate to compare it to anything that we have faced, but if I had to pick something, I’d say it more closely resembles the lead up to the American Revolution than any other protest we’ve had since. I’m not saying that we should not protest, but if we do, we need everything done by the book while the book is still there

[endercasts]

Fic: My thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth - Ender Character Study

[devilofthehounds]

[video id: An edited version of the "Next Floor, Please" bumper from Thrown Controllers Colosseum 2024. Jyggy enters an elevator as a rendition of the Luigi's Mansion theme plays as elevator music. The scene cuts to Jyggy inside the elevator. The music cuts out as the elevator opens to reveal an edited screenshot from God Eater Resurrection featuring the protagonist seemingly bracing their hands against a vending machine. Jyggy is confused and somewhat scared at the sight. /end id]

POV: Annette and Federico picking up meds from the infirmary.

Jyggy Colosseum Bumper templates here.

[crossbackpoke-check]

re last answer: please don't stop, being very unhinged about these two pretty white boys is helping distract me from the sharks losing streak rn so bring it on

https://www.tumblr.com/bondedpairs/764566430180147200?source=share

(sideblog woes but there's the link for you) anyway in the vid they talk about going over to each other's houses to have dinner and things and while that is a delicious example of their codependence i love it bc through an rpf lens there is definitely some old man ******* going on. they can have the dilfs and each other.

(someone else mentioned kept boys which i could write an essay on but i fear being Perceived™️)

anyway if you have anything to add to this please do, if not ignore me and i will hide under a rock until the stress-related insanity has worn off and i am a functioning member of society once more 😂

- @bondedpairs

ty for the video!!! and please, WRITE THE KEPT BOYS ESSAYYYY i promise i will read it with my hands over my eyes if you don’t want to be perceived. do it scared!! do it anyway!! we’ll all love you for it!!!

[ahaura]

^_^ HIIIIIIIIIIIIII

[snazzy-suit]

Resident Evil 4 (2023)

Chapter 14 & 15

Bonus Leon:

[icewindandboringhorror]

Well! I started remodeling the house sooo long ago (original post of it back in 2018), then got distracted and forgot it in the closet for a long time, ignored it on and off, etc... Then, finally finished the house in 2022. THEN, I forgot about the pictures I took of it in 2022, and am now posting them in 2024.. A good example of how the timeline of my side craft projects usually go lol

But, at least I do have the photos now, so... finally sharing them ! 

I just used a blue sheet as a 'sky' and a green sweater with some fake flowers on it to try to look like it was on grass lol...

(more images under the readmore)

The bedroom-

The library/potion room -

The living room area-

Then the little kitchen

The pictures are not very good, but these are the best I could find? I filmed a video of me working on the whole thing (who knows when that will be out..if it took me TWO years just to post the photos lol), so I think while I was taking the pictures, I was thinking “eh, they don’t have to be great, since I’ll show it in more detail in the video :3″, but now I kind of regret not having more actual detail shots or anything.

(sidenote: I'm pretty sure I've posted better pictures of some of the individual rooms before though too? sometime before I had added the finishing touches but when they were basically done and looked almost the same as these. so maybe it's okay that these are kind of bad lol)

I think progress on it also stalled a bit due to the pandemic starting, since like 90% of the stuff in here is random things I found at the bins (giant goodwill donation center where you dig through tubs of various items all thrown together), so once I couldn’t go out to the bins anymore, I lost my method of hunting for new items, and just had to work with whatever scraps I already had or could make myself with very few materials/tools.  The bins is a really large and always crowded place, so it's still not safe for me to go with current community transmission levels lol... who knows when I shall be able to use it to get dirt cheap crafting supplies ever again.. T o T

ANYWAY! It was a fun little project, even though of course it's a little rough around the edges and not exactly as I'd envisioned lol. As usual, I always enjoy the MAKING of things the most, yet then have no idea what to do with the finished project, since the process is what's enjoyable to me.

I think I'm going to take all the glued down furniture out of it and then repaint it, then maybe donate the base house back to the same thrift store I found it at. Like completing some sort of crafting circle of life or something lol

slowly making some progress on the doll house I’m trying to remodel! 

[ari-sa]

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻

roommate!geto who you are weary to move in with at first, but as soon as you meet him you feel perfectly comfortable- like you’ve known each other for decades~

roommate!geto who insists on calling you “baby” and “doll” all the time

roommate!geto who you cuddle up with in your shared living room every thursday night to watch movies~

he’s already sitting on the couch with open arms when you come out to the shared space, “what’re we watching today baby?”

roommate!geto who has to excuse himself for a minute (or two) when he sees you walk out of you room in sleep shorts that expose the curve of your ass and a tank top with no bra.

roommate!geto who gets hard whenever a sex scene comes on, he knows you can feel his length pressing against your back, but the fact he knows you can feel it turns him on more~

roommate!geto who always sneaks touches. <3

nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck while you “platonically” cuddle during the movie. taking in the scent of your freshly lotioned skin~

grabbing your waist to guide you when you’re at parties, shielding you from any boys that might be around,

pressing his hips against yours whenever he stands behind you,

tucking loose strands of your hair behind your ear mid conversation.

roommate!geto who drives you everywhere- he doesn’t mind because he loves spending time with you <3

roommate!geto who you give little fashion shows before you go out clubbing with your friends. “you look beautiful doll”

roommate!geto who despite loving your outfit can’t stop thinking about how some guy might hit on you at the club

roommate!geto who cannot shut up about you to satoru~

roommate!geto who starts taking up skirt pictures of you to show satoru what has him going crazy-

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻

a/n: ok i finally got the courage to get this out of my drafts. pls lmk if it’s actual shit 😭

also i didn’t proofread or anything so there might be mistakes- sorry again!

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Sleeping, Dancing and Mistletoe

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Times when people found evidence that you and Logan were possibly a couple, and the one time you both finally confirmed it.

Disclaimer: Mostly fluff, mentions/illusions to sex, Logan checking you out. Couple of swear words here and there. This has been unfinished in my drafts for at least a week so...yeah. This is finished. little Christmas at the end. Not Proof Read.

For what felt like the thirtieth time in the hour, you turned over with a huff and pressed your pillow to your ears, trying to muffle the sounds coming from next door. 

And just as it finally died down, you sighed and was just about to thank some ancient being for hearing your prayers when…it started again. 

“That’s it.”

Changing out of your longer pyjama bottoms and into some sleep shorts, you made your way out of your room, keeping your footsteps as quiet as you could until the noises faded away and you started to reach your intended room. 

Opening up the door, you found exactly what you were looking for. 

Shaking his shoulder as he lay on his stomach, you whispered his name, hoping he’d hear you. 

“Logan.” You shook him for a third time. “Logan.” 

Nothing. 

With another sigh, you slapped his face gently and said his name once more, a little louder and firmer. 

“Logan.”

Finally, he groaned. “What?” 

His voice was muffled by his pillow but you could hear him just well enough. Or maybe you were just used to his grunts that they were starting to become their own language you could understand. 

“Move over. I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“What’s wrong with your bed?”

“Nothing.”

“Then go and sleep there.” Logan turned his head away from you and scrunched up his pillow beneath his head.

“I can’t. My neighbours have decided tonight is Valentine’s Day 2.0.”

You pushed half of his body with your hands until he finally got the cue to turn over. 

“Too much information.”

You shook your head, “Too much information is what I’ve been hearing for the last hour.”

Finally, Logan rolled onto his back, his covers covering his bottom half, and groaned. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Logan straightened himself in his bed, giving you room to get in beside him. And the minute you touched his covers, you were glad you had changed into shorts. 

Logan was like a furnace. Just constant heat radiating from his body and for as much as it, at times, got too hot to stand near him, he was also, in your opinion, the best person to fall asleep beside. 

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Laying on your side, it wasn’t long until you closed your eyes, thankful that you could hear nothing other than Logan’s steady breathing and the distant clock down the hall that was forever ticking. 

However, just before you fully drifted off, you felt Logan’s hand take hold of yours and you smiled. 

He could be gruff all he liked, but when it came to you, he could be a softie. 

By the time morning rolled around, Storm was in search of both yourself and Logan. So, when she found your bed empty and cold, she figured Logan would know where you were. 

But he was asleep. 

Right beside you. 

Storm leaned against the door frame for a while, taking in the picture in front of her. 

Logan was fast asleep, something that was a miracle in itself, with you right beside him, your head turned towards the windows in his room, his own looking towards you, all the while, his arm slung over your midsection and one of your own hands, holding his. 

“Storm- what are you- Oh.”

Jean looked inside. 

“Looks like someone had a good night.” She smiled before looking back at Storm. “Do you think we can finally ask if they’re together?”

“I’d say this is confirmation enough.”

You shifted in your sleep as did Logan, and the two girls hid behind the corner for a moment. 

You turned your head and the rest of your body towards Logan, all the while his arm held you in a stronger grip and pulled you towards him. 

It took you a moment but you finally opened your eyes, adjusting to the light before your vision finally cleared on a sleeping Logan. 

For a moment, you allowed the hand between you both to reach up and brush the stray hairs from his eyes. It was rare you ever got to see Logan this…calm. 

Serene. 

Rested. 

Unknowingly, you started to run your left thumb over Logan’s arm that still held onto you. 

Then his fingers twitched, running over the exposed skin at the bottom of your back. 

“Are you watching me sleep?” His voice was rough, the first words in the morning. 

“Not anymore,” you smiled, brushing the final parts of his hair out of his face. 

“Thanks for letting me stay.”

Then a cough came from the door. 

Logan groaned. “Is this a new hobby; watching people sleep?”

Jean and Storm laughed from the door. “You two look cosy.”

You lifted your head and glared at Jean. “There is one reason I’m here. Maybe I think it’s time you make an investment in soundproof walls.”

Jean turned a little red and Storm laughed. 

“Look, we’ve got a busy day. You can kiss your boyfriend later.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you called out just as Logan called; “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Storm and Jean nodded and just as Jean snapped a picture, she sent it to both yourself and Logan as they walked away. 

“Sure.”

Leaning up, Logan reached for his phone to see the notification pop up before he placed it back down and you climbed out of bed. 

“They’re got a point.”

“About us being a couple?”

You threw a t-shirt at Logan. “Having a busy day.”

Logan laughed a little, scrubbing his face as he watched you leave his room before he reached behind him and took hold of his phone once more. 

Jean and Storm were right. 

From the picture…they did look like a couple. 

A couple of days passed and you were sitting in the quiet living room, the fires on both sides roaring. 

All classes had been finished for two days and some kids had returned home for the holidays, which meant you had some free time on your hands. 

And for you, that meant finally reading. 

Until you sensed someone stood behind you. 

“If you want to know what happens, you could just ask me.”

Logan plucked the book from your hands and circled around the sofa before coming to sit down beside you. 

“Logan! Give it back.”

“I want to see what it’s about.”

You sighed and sat up, “It’s a romance, Logan.”

“A romance?” Logan had a hint of a smirk on his face. “Like the…trashy kind?”

“Like the romantic kind.”

Logan looked at you and smiled. “The trashy kind.”

You rolled your eyes and took the book back from him, leaving him to fix the blanket so it rested over both of you. He placed his arm over the back of the sofa, allowing you to lean into him, whether you noticed you were doing so or not. 

“Just because you might not believe in romance, doesn’t mean the rest of us are the same.”

“I believe in romance.” 

“Yeah, right.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile. “What?”

“The Wolverine,” you said with a deep voice. “Believes in romance?”

Logan nodded. “Occasionally.”

“Occasionally?”

“Do you just like repeating everything I say?”

You nodded and smiled. “Occasionally.”

Logan rolled his eyes and took the book back from you and read a line out loud. 

“People really talk like this?”

You leaned into Logan. “No, but in a book it’s not so bad. Go on, read some more.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “You’re like my own personal audiobook.”

Logan gave a short smile before getting a little cosier and continued reading out loud. 

It wasn’t long before Logan found you asleep against him and he shifted in order to avoid you getting a crick in your neck. 

“Keep reading.”

“I thought you were asleep.” 

“Now I’m awake.” 

“Fine, just be quiet.”

You gave a fake salute. “Yes, sir.”

Holding his arm around your body that was pressed between himself and the sofa, Logan quickly kissed the top of your head and went back to reading. 

And ten minutes later, you were asleep. 

And so was he. 

An hour passed before someone found either of you, but this time, it was Scott and Bobby. 

“They might be in- oh. What do we have here?”

“Oh my god, Rouge has to see this. I told her they were together.”

Bobby rushed off and soon returned, pulling Rouge with him. 

“What is it?” Then she gasped. 

“Believe me now?”

And what Rouge saw made her smile. 

On the slightly too small sofa for Logan, you lay both between him and the sofa, as well as partly on him with your hand a little over his heart. His head was turned towards you. The blanket had fallen a little, so she reached over and pulled it up both of you before turning around and throwing a log onto the fire. 

“Come on, let's leave them.”

“But-”

“No, you are not going to disturb them. Come on.”

Rouge dragged the pair out and closed the door behind her. 

The third time people suspected you and Logan were an item was one late evening in October. 

Half of the kids were playing outside with all the freshly fallen leaves, whilst some of the older kids helped them find different critters and point them out, and build them habitats. The rest of the kids were either in their rooms or studying. 

Save for two. 

Bobby and Rouge were hiding outside of the kitchen watching yourself and Logan cook. 

“I didn’t even know he knew how to…chop. Let alone cook.”

“You should have more faith in him.”

“Come on, Rouge. You can’t tell me you weren't thinking it, too.”

And she couldn’t. Because she was. 

Meanwhile inside the kitchen, Logan was watching you from the kitchen island as he continued chopping the veg. 

There was something different about you. From the way you practically danced around the kitchen finding the different items for the recipe, to just…you. Whilst he was (semi) shirtless, just having his zipper hoodie on, along with his jeans and socks. He would have been fully dressed, except you had come and ambushed him in his room – even though you denied the word “ambushed” – to get him to help. 

And you were just simply in your pyjamas (of sorts) along with one of his zipper hoodies. 

“Bub,”

Logan laid down his knife and walked over to you as you stood by the stove, standing a little higher to see how much water was left in the pot at the back. 

You hummed a questioned response, but was met with a question…you didn’t expect. 

“Dance with me?”

“What?”

Logan smiled lightly as he pulled the wooden spoon from your hand and pulled you closer to him, despite him walking backwards. 

“Come on,” his voice in a light whisper. “Dance with me.”

“Didn’t take you for a dancer.”

Outside the door, Bobby and Rouge mouthed to each other; “They’re dancing.”

And you both were. 

Gently swaying to the music for a while, you allowed Logan to lead you around a small space in the centre of the kitchen. 

“We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Logan gave a slight smile at you as he spun you out and back in, “We’re not gonna burn the sauce.”

“Logan.”

“Can’t you ever just enjoy a moment?”

“When that moment doesn’t include burning the house down, yes.”

“Bit of a jump, don’t you think, from burning the sauce.”

“Ha, so you agree. We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Moving over, Logan turned down the heat on one of the pans before taking your hand back into his. “Now we won’t.”

Bobby and Rouge watched, in shock, the rest. 

For one, Logan knew how to dance? Since when? And since when did he…cook and dance in the kitchen? Unless…

Then Logan did something even you didn’t expect. 

He dipped you. 

You hand tightened its grip on Logan’s arm as you let out a small, if a little nervous, laugh. 

Logan had been full of surprises recently. From the impromptu audiobook session in which you woke up in his arms, to him not only dropping off a cup of coffee during your break from teaching but also a freshly baked muffin. 

And now he was dancing with you in the kitchen. 

And dipping you. 

When you had rushed him out of his room to help you cook, you hadn’t expected him to know the recipe for the sauce from the top of his head. Something he just happened to rattle off whilst you were looking for the cooking notebook that should have been in the cupboard beside the oven. Let alone be the one to ask to dance in the kitchen, and dip you. 

Bring you back up, both of you gave a slight chuckle as you turned around, the music slowly fading away in the background. 

“Logan…”

Looking at him, you forgot what you were going to say. 

Had his eyes always had so much green in them? 

Logan’s palm became warm against your back as it pressed further into you. Or maybe you pressed further into him and he just held you tighter. 

Slowly, your hand left his bicep and trailed towards his chest all the while your eyes studied his face. You’d known him for years and seen him a thousand times or more. 

So why did now feel like you were seeing him for the first time? Noticing him? Noticing each particle he was made up of that allowed him to sway with you in the kitchen to the music that had changed on the radio?

Only, before the space between yourself and Logan became any more closer, a noise came from outside the door. 

A sneeze. 

A sneeze that shocked you and Logan back into reality. 

Still holding you, Logan looked towards the door and gave a hint of a smile when he saw the flash of white disappear behind the beam. 

Realising what was happening, you lowered yourself back to the ground and slowly stepped out of Logan’s arms. “We should finish up.”

Logan nodded in agreement, however did look back at you when you got back to the stove, not noticing you do the same a few moments later, watching him pick up the rest of the veg and toss it into the collider to be washed. 

Time passed and after more music, more conversation - including a burnt tongue from when you had shoved a wooden spoon with fresh sauce on, into Logan’s mouth for him to try - and a lot of scrubbing later, you found Logan sitting inside the library and collapsed next to him. 

“Good news, the kids loved the food,” you told Logan. “Double good news; Jean and Scott are on cooking duty tomorrow.”

“Thank fuck.”

“Thank you for helping me.” Turning to look at Logan, you found him already looking. 

“You did ambush me.”

“I didn’t ambush you.”

“I wasn’t dressed.” Logan examined himself. “Technically, I’m still not.”

You rolled your eyes with a slight smile. “Fine. Maybe it was a mini, tiny, miniscule ambush.” 

You made a small space between your fingers. “Like this big of an ambush.”

Logan looked at you, at your fingers and then back to you in slight disgust before moving your fingers wider with his own. 

“That big of an ambush.”

You rolled your eyes and dropped your hand. “And they say us women are dramatic.”

It was Logan’s turn to roll his eyes. However, as he did so, his arm wrapped around you, and pulled you back into him and the sofa. 

“Just shut the fuck up for a minute and listen.”

You did so. 

“I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s the point.” Logan’s eyes were shut as his head rested on the back of the sofa. 

Eventually you gave a shrug and joined him. 

An hour later, Storm found you both fast asleep beside one another so with a knowing smile, she found a blanket, covered you both up and closed the door behind her. But not before reminding herself she needed to get verbal confirmation from you both. 

She wasn’t handing over any money to Jean and Xavier until she had verbal confirmation of what exactly was going on between you two. 

And she didn’t have to wait long…at least in the long run, she didn’t have to wait long. 

Until then, there were plenty more incidents of falling asleep next to each other, bringing each other coffee, dancing to music in the kitchen, smiling and laughing – all before she finally got verbal confirmation that the inevitable had finally happened. 

Finally, it was acceptable to decorate for Christmas. 

Two days prior, Rogue, Logan and Storm had been helping you find all the old decorations in the attic and bring them down. Storm did try then to bribe something out of Rogue, but she apparently was just in the dark as the rest of them. 

But the smile she gave when she looked over at Logan, who was placing down another box from the back of the pile for you to take a look at, told Storm something different. 

“I can’t believe you leave it this late to decorate.”

Logan looked at you. “We’re still in November.”

“So?” 

Taking hold of the garland, you started to climb the ladder. Logan held onto the bottom just to be safe. 

“If you had it your way, the decorations would be up all year round.”

“Hey, no.”

“Hey, yes.”

“I’d take them down for…” you tried to think. “Halloween. You’d have a little break.”

Logan didn’t look entirely thrilled. “Halloween is one day.”

“Technically, it’s a month.”

“To you, it’s a month. To the rest of us, it’s a day.”

You looked back at him. “To you it’s a day, to the rest of us it’s a month.”

Then you looked back at the garland. “How does that look?”

“Great from where I’m standing.”

You looked a little confused for a second before quickly looking over your shoulder, realising where Logan was, in fact, looking. 

Not at the garland, but at your ass. 

You smiled and started to step down the ladder, hitting his shoulder on the way down. 

“I meant the garland.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Logan looked up. “Looks great.”

You laughed. “You didn’t even look.”

With a smile as you finally stepped back into his arm, he looked to the side and up. “It looks great.”

“Good. Now,” Logan turned back to look at you and you kissed him quickly. “We have to put up five more.”

“I get to watch you put up five more.”

You smiled. “This is why you’re my favourite person.”

Logan smiled. He could help you with everything else, but when it came to the garland, you had full control on where it went. Which, he didn’t mind. So long as he got to watch you put it up. 

You quickly kissed him once more, only to be pulled back when you tried to walk away. 

Then Logan gave you a real kiss. 

A little dizzy, you smiled and placed a hand on his chest and closed your eyes. “Wow.”

He gave you a quicker, lighter kiss. “You better get going before Rogue comes back with another box of lights.”

“Light?” Then it hit you. “Oh, yeah.”

Logan smirked a little as he watched you walk away and down the hallway. 

It was a couple of hours before everyone was in the same room, making the final touches all the while most of the other kids were either playing outside in the snow, were taking naps or decorating their own rooms. 

And the others had been watching you and Logan all day. 

The stolen glances, the stolen touches, the slightly knowing smiles from both Rogue and Bobby. And then, as Logan was helping you down from the ladder, his hand on your thigh, Bobby went to make the final hammer to hang up the mistletoe. 

“Wait, no. Not there.”

“Where then?”

Storm looked around. “I know. Y/n, hang this just above there. We don’t need a remake of Mistletoe Central 1997.”

Logan looked at Storm. “Do I wanna know?”

Storm shook her head. “Here.”

She handed you the mistletoe before Logan passed you the hammer back from his belt. 

Three knocks and the nail was set in and the mistletoe was above you on a corner beam, just a little to the side of the christmas tree. 

At least this way, those looking for it, would find it. 

"Oh, no, wait.” Jean said, looking at you. “Have to kiss someone. It’s tradition. You’re under the mistletoe.”

There was no one else apart from Logan.

Logan looked around at the others. He wondered how long it would take. 

Coming up behind you on the ladder, you moved over for him to stand beside you. His palm on your back held you steady and, leaning his other arm on the ledge of the ladder, his hand cupped your face and he kissed you. 

Lasting a little longer than the others had expected, you soon heard Rogue giving a little cheer, as well as a couple of whistles from the others. 

“Okay, I think they get it.” You whispered to Logan as he finally pulled away, a smile very noticeable on both of your faces. 

“Happy now?” Logan asked, turning towards where Jean and Scott were standing. 

“That was some kiss.”

You felt yourself blush at the comment. As did Logan. 

He helped you back down the ladder before you both turned and really saw the other's expression. As well as the exchanging of money between people. 

“Sooo…how long has this been going on?”

You were leaning into Logan, his hand around your back and on your hip. 

You looked at Logan, “A couple of months. We’re…what? November now so that would…”

“That would…” Logan counted back in his head. “May…June, July…six months.”

You looked back to the others. “Six months.”

A chorus of shocked faces and loud voices sounded out; “SIX MONTHS?!”

All before a small call from Rogue was made, which made both yourself and Logan smile. 

“I knew it!”

[aajjks]

Love and War (m)

warnings: vèry lóng, híghly 18+ thèmès, èxplïcït smüt/sèx, únprótèctèd sèx, chèátíng, górè, múrdèr, prègnáncy, lônlíness, èxplïcït víölèncè, blóód, yándèrè cháràctès, bördèrlínè cóffèè àddïctïön, dàrk jüngkóók.

pairing: yandere police officer jungkook x fem!Barista reader

genre: strictly 18+ killer fic, rated M, Gore, thriller and erotica

word count: 6,000

note. My fingers have been hurting so much these days because I’ve been dedicating a lot of time to writing this. I started this draft on October 14 and now I have finally finished it today and I wanted to publish this because I have worked hard on this so much I’ve done a lot of extensive research so please guys like it and re-blog it. This is worth a read I promise please please send feedback and let me know what you think because I really need it.

•••

This case in particular is brutal.

As Jungkook sits in his office space, he’s looking at the latest crime scene pictures. And they are brutal, the man’s throat is literally spilling out, tongue cut off.

There’s so much blood.

Seodaemun-gu is particularly cold, and he’s been working overtime, as an inspector he’s been pretty busy thanks to a psychotic serial killer who’s been targeting a lot of men lately

This is the 17th victim.

Jungkooks been trying to piece the puzzle together, he picks up the warm cup of coffee and gulps down another sip, his furrows his eyebrows, he knows that it’s just one person doing all of these killings.

The pattern of killing is too similar, the gore, the marks, the method.

There is a familiar drug found in every single one of the victims bodies.

“Fuck.” He curses as he drops the pictures on the table, he needs to catch the killer before it’s too late, it is too late anyways.

October isn’t so kind this year, it is harshly cold. And this case has his whole attention. “I’ll catch you, psycho.” He mutters under his breath.

He will catch the psycho before Halloween.

Jungkooks grip on his cup tightens. He will make this killer pay. Just as he’s staring at the pictures again, his phone rings.

He sighs, averting his gaze to his phone as he picks it up, a small smile playing on his face. “Hey baby!!!” He grins speaking into the phone.

He loves his girlfriend so much. She’s the only thing that is making him happy these days.

“Hey koo!” as she greets him back, he cannot stop smiling, “ahh so are we still on for tonight?” He asks slyly, she makes him so happy.

There is a silence for a few seconds, but he waits patiently for her response, Jungkook holds the phone up his ear, waiting.

“Oh… sorry baby but no, I’m kinda busy tonight. You know this assignment is keeping me up all night. I can’t I’m so sorry.”

His smile falters.

“U-Uh..”

This is the third time.

“Umm it’s okay.” he replies, playing it cool but honestly, he’s a little upset because she’s been doing everything but spending time with him and he’s the one trying to solve a fucking murder case.

“Don’t be upset koo… I swear I’ll make it up to you.” He sighs. “It’s okay baby. I…understand.” Jungkook knows there’s no point in arguing.

He just misses her.

After talking to her for a few minutes, he finally ends the call. It’s time he refocuses on the case.

What he should be focusing on right now is catching the killer

And not the fact that his girlfriend is literally ignoring him for the past days, he’s barely seen her face this month, it’s bothering him, but he cannot afford to be distracted right now.

There cannot be an 18th victim.

He won’t let it happen.

•••

It’s lonely

But at least now he gets to go to his favorite coffee shop and drink, coffee in peace while staring out at the view, honestly speaking the view isn’t that special but jungkook likes to have some free time to himself just so he can reconnect with the world.

he enters the coffee shop, the bells above jingle as the door opens, it’s not too crowded today which is a good thing because the less the crowd the more he can focus and think.

Only a handful of people who are drinking and waiting for their orders as he approaches his table. Jungkook sits down on it, taking the chair out.

He scans the area. He likes how peaceful it is here because his job is not peaceful or neither cute, he has just come back from seeing a gruesome murder scene and this is exactly the detox He needs right now.

“Hey!!! Mr Jeon?” his snap of his thoughts when the barista calls out his name, he turns to look ahead, and smiles seeing the familiar face.

“Hey Ms yn! How’s it going? I think I’m just gonna have the regular.” He tells, looking at you, and you nod, you’re a sweet girl.

You’ve been serving him coffee for the past year almost, “well got it! Maybe I should get you some brownie too; of course courtesy of me.” You laugh, “looks like you really could use some sweetness in your life since you work so hard”

He laughs a little, shaking his head. “yeah you’re right. It’s been quite bitter these days.” He mutters to himself almost.

You walk away. impatiently, he waits for his coffee.. He might have an addiction, but it’s OK. Caffeine is necessary when you’re a police officer.

Sometime later you come back with his order. And he looks at you, thanking you.. “thank you Ms yn. Appreciate you for putting up with me.” he jokes, you give him a kind smile, “oh Mr Jeon how about you Just call me yn?” You insist and he almost blushes.

“Ahhh sure sure I will but only if you call me by my first name too.” He waves his hand, picking up his coffee to take a sip, and the smell of the brownie just fills his nostrils and he hums in delight

“The brownie smells so good and this coffee is awesome. Thank you so much.”

You wink in return, which has his cheeks actually burning up

You’re bold and you’re confident and that he appreciates about you because maybe you like him a little and you don’t really make an effort to hide the fact

“Okay.. I’ll go now have fun” he watches as you go away.

And he can’t help but feel his heart flutter in his chest.

•••

A few days later, his same routine just goes on and on, but there is not a single point that he has been able to catch, which could help him actually lead to the killer

And his days are only getting worse. There’s an emptiness that he’s starting to feel. Honestly, he feels like a failure.

A failure of a boyfriend and a failure of an inspector.

Jungkook steps into his dimly lit apartment, shrugging off his rain-soaked jacket. The warmth of the place feels hollow, as if reflecting the emptiness creeping into his chest. He slumps onto the couch, running his hands through his damp hair. His mind is a mess, caught between the horrifying images of the latest crime scene, Mina’s growing distance, and the subtle comfort he finds in your quiet presence at the café.

He pulls out his phone and stares at Mina’s name in his contacts. Something in him snaps, and before he can overthink it, he presses “Call.”

It rings longer than it should.

“Hello?” Her voice is clipped, impatient.

“Mina. Can you come over?” he asks out of desperation because he so lonely, and he needs to feel her love and her warmth.

“It’s late, Jungkook. I’m busy.” he understands it. She’s been busy, but it’s been so long since he’s been with her physically and she keeps on being distant.

He’s starting to break, his face falls, and his voice hardens at her sudden coldness.

“Busy with what?” he demands, the sharpness in his voice surprising even himself. he gripped the phone tighter and waits for her response with a thumping heartbeat.

There’s a pause, long enough for unease to settle in his gut. “Work,” she finally says, but the word feels rehearsed, flat.

“Bullshit.” He stands, pacing the small living room. “You’re lying to me.” he knows that she’s lying. Does she really think that he’s that stupid?

“Excuse me?” Her tone hardens, defensive.

“You’ve been distant for weeks,” he says, his voice rising. “The late nights, the dodged questions, the way you look at me like I’m a stranger. If there’s something you’re hiding, Mina, I deserve to know.”

She exhales sharply, a sound halfway between frustration and guilt. “You’re paranoid, Jungkook. You’re always at work, always chasing some killer. Maybe the problem isn’t me—it’s you.”

“That’s not an answer,” he snaps. “You think I don’t notice the way you’re pulling away? The phone calls you don’t take around me? If you don’t want to be with me, just say it.”

Her silence cuts deeper than any words could.

“You’re impossible,” she finally says, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. “You think everything revolves around you and your job, but you don’t even see what’s right in front of you. Maybe I have been distant, Jungkook, but can you blame me? You’re so wrapped up in your case that there’s no room for anything—or anyone—else.”

He clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms. “You’re deflecting. Just tell me the truth, Mina. Are you seeing someone else?”

Her sharp intake of breath tells him everything he needs to know.

“Mina,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

“I’m not doing this,” she says, and the line goes dead.

Jungkook stares at his phone, his breath coming in ragged bursts. The quiet of the apartment feels suffocating, pressing in on him from all sides. He throws his phone onto the couch and grabs his keys, his mind a whirlwind of anger, betrayal, and something he can’t quite name.

But for a fact, he knows that he’s lost Mina forever. And the realization dawns on him as he stares at his phone screen. He’s alone once again like he has been for a month.

But maybe this time, forever

And it doesn’t take him long to break down in his apartment. He’s so alone and maybe he will be forever. Why can nobody ever love him?

Is he not deserving of love?

•••

The coffee shop is dark except for the faint glow of a single lamp by the counter. You’re wiping down the tables, your movements unhurried, as if you have all the time in the world. The sight of you—calm, grounded—makes something in Jungkook loosen, just slightly.

You look up as he enters, the chime of the bell breaking the silence.

“Jungkook?” you say, surprised. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, just walks over to the counter and leans against it. “I needed to get out of my head.”

You study him, noting the tension in his jaw, the shadows under his eyes. “Rough day?”

He laughs bitterly. “You could say that.”

The way you look at him, makes his heart flutter in an abnormal way, maybe it’s the loneliness that he’s making behave like this but you’re gaze actually drives him crazy

You hesitate for a moment before stepping around the counter, standing a little closer to him. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” he says quickly, then softens. “I just… I don’t know. Everything feels like it’s falling apart.”

You nod, not pushing him for details. Instead, you reach for the bottle of whiskey you keep hidden behind the counter for nights like this. You pour him a glass and slide it across the table.

“Here,” you say. “On the house.”

He takes a sip, the burn in his throat a welcome distraction from the turmoil in his mind. “Thanks.”

You sit down beside him, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. But you can feel his eyes on you, heavy and searching.

“You’re always here,” he says suddenly, his voice soft.

“Someone has to be,” you reply, your lips quirking into a small smile.

“You know Y/N? I’m so fucking alone. My girlfriend is probably cheating on me. She doesn’t care about me…. No one cares about me.” His voice breaks on the last sentence.

You look at him with pity and something deeper swimming in your gaze, but he doesn’t know how to pinpoint it, you urge him to continue so he does.

He chuckles, but it’s humorless. “It’s more than that. You don’t know what it means to me, Y/N. Just… knowing there’s someone who gives a damn.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you play it cool. “Well, you look like you could use someone in your corner.”

He turns to you then, his gaze intense, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The air between you feels charged, electric

“Why do you care so much?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitate, your pulse racing. “Maybe I just like seeing you smile.”

You’re the first person who has ever said that to him, and in that moment, he realizes that your silence is the only silence that doesn’t feel suffocating.

You look at him with such a deep emotion that it makes him go crazy, what are you doing to him? Why do you care about him so much?

You’ve been there for him since day one. You’re so comforting so kind and so nonjudgmental.

You listen to him rant, Complain, but you don’t say anything every time.

The more he looks at you, the more his heart keeps on thumping, inside his chest and alcohol just rushes through his body, and suddenly his pants feel so achingly tight.

The silence between you both is charged with tension, a tension that makes shivers go down his spine, you’re looking at him in a way that has him hallucinating that you want to lure him in.

He just wants to drown in your embrace, feel you in a way that no one has ever, he just wants to bury himself to hilt inside of you so maybe he can feel wanted again, and maybe he will feel safe for once.

His breath hitches, and before either of you can think better of it, his lips crash into yours.

•••

The back room of the café becomes a blur of heat and desperation as you both stumble in while he’s busy, shoving his tongue on your throat. It’s not tender—it���s raw, messy, driven by an ache neither of you can name. He breaks the kiss after it feels like hours, and he dips his head low and you feel his hot wet lips on your neck, His hands are rough against your skin, his lips leaving trails of bruises along your neck.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, your voice breaking as his hands grip your hips. It feels so fucking good. The desperation and the need is driving you insane.

You can feel his muscular body, he’s so perfect. You have dreamed of this moment for the longest time. But you never really thought that it would come true.

But as he kisses your neck, his lips burn on your skin. And that makes you realize that this is your reality. You are finally getting to live your dream.

You moan out his name again breathlessly gripping on his shoulders so tightly as he attacks your neck, whispers of his name leave your mouth, you’re getting breathless, just by him kissing your skin.

That’s how much you want him.

He doesn’t respond with words, only pulls you closer, his movements frantic. It’s as though he’s trying to drown in you, to forget everything outside of this moment.

His scent is so exotic, he’s always smelled so good whenever he’s visited the café, his son is so stronger it surrounds the whole café and right now you’re so close to him. It’s getting you high.

You know that he’s drunk, he’s so fucking drunk and vulnerable, but you cannot bring yourself to stop him, especially not when he pushes your panties down, his lips hot on your collarbones.

How can you bring yourself to stop him when he’s suddenly licking his fingers, as he takes them out you, you stare at him, they’re glistening with his Saliva.

He’s so beautiful and so handsome, and the most sexiest man you’ve ever seen.

You can only encourage him, and you do that, when he finally starts to push his two digits inside of you, your hips buck up.

You’re so fucking wet it’s embarrassing.

He scissors them inside of you, curling them inside your gummy walls, hitting that spot that has you seeing stars, immediately and he’s barely even started

“AGGH…” you moan out loudly, He groans at the sound, sinking his teeth in your neck once again, he’s so needy right now, you feel his body temperature burning.

You’re burning up too.

Jungkook whispers in your ear, “take off my boxers.”

And you do, after that you start stroking his hard thick length, he’s so big, as you stare down at it, you gasp because it’s leaking already and it’s angry.

He’s been neglected for the longest time, you actually hate his girlfriend, but good for you. You get to feel him inside you like this.

He’s hungry for this. As you finally start to do the magic of your hands, he lets out a guttural moan, it’s so loud, and it rings in your ears.

you love the sounds he’s making right now. He sounds so hot almost like an animal in heat.

But he starts fucking your hand furiously, you lift his head up from your neck to look at him and you just want to keep him with you forever

He’s so beautiful.

He’s drooling, his eyes are closed as he feels the pleasure that you are giving him, the pleasure that he’s been denied for the longest time.

“T-Thank you so much for this because you have no idea how much I need this you have no idea how much I need you… yn- ngh… I’ve been dreaming about this… how about you… and you feel so much better than my imagination”

Jungkook cannot wait anymore though, just as he’s close, he wraps your legs around his waist and gently removes your hand, kisses you hard as he shoves his cock in your warm pussy.

“Let me feel your pussy, I need you, baby…” he begs, you grip his shoulders and kiss his cheek. He lets out a shuddering breath once your heat cages him in.

He starts moving his hips at a really fast pace, he’s jackhammering into you, Jungkooks moaning is echoing throughout the back room.

“NGHH mhmm AHHHG…. AHHH…”

The pleasure that you’re feeling right now is the most that you’ve ever felt in your life and you never knew that you could feel this good while having sex.

The sex with him is feeling so hot, so good and so fucking raw.

He’s so big you can see it bulging from inside of you, you gasp.

“Cum… please Cum inside me.”

You press desperate kisses on his neck, and on the hollow of his throat He’s so vocal about this. So hot. And then he lets out a desperate mewl as he cums inside your cunt.

It’s hot, thick and full as he fills you up to brim.

But it’s starts leaking out because it’s so much, you can feel it running down your thighs.

“You felt a-ah… so fuckin good, yn.”

When it’s over, the two of you lie tangled together on the worn couch, your breaths mingling in the quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, his voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, resting a hand on his chest. “Don’t apologize.”

He looks at you, his eyes searching for something he can’t find.

“You’re not alone, Jungkook,” you say softly. “Not anymore.”

But as he drifts off to sleep, your words echo in his mind, and unease curls in his chest.

•••

The first rays of sunlight filter through the cracks in the blinds, casting faint streaks across the cramped backroom of the café. The room is quiet, save for the sound of Jungkook's breathing. He lies awake on the couch, staring at the ceiling, your head resting on his chest, your arm draped over him like a lifeline.

The memories of the night before play in his mind on an endless loop-your soft moans, the way your body had responded to his touch, how you had whispered his name like a prayer. He feels a pang of guilt, but not for what he did. He doesn't regret it. Not the way your warmth had pulled him from the cold void he'd been living in, not the way you made him forget the weight of the world for a few fleeting hours.

What eats at him is the realization that he used you-your body, your kindness, your feelings— for his own selfish needs. And yet, as much as the guilt gnaws at him, a darker truth lingers: it had felt so good. You had felt so good.

Your breathing changes, pulling him from his thoughts. You stir slightly, your fingers twitching against his chest before you lift your head to meet his gaze.

"Good morning," you say softly, your voice thick with sleep.

He swallows hard, unsure of what to say.

“Morning,” he replies, his voice quieter than he intends.

You sit up slowly, the blanket slipping from your shoulders as you adjust yourself on the edge of the couch. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the weight of what happened between you hanging in the air.

“Are you okay?” you ask finally, breaking the silence.

“I don't know,” he admits, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

You bite your lip, looking down at your lap. "Last night..."

“Wasn't supposed to happen,” he says, cutting you off.

You flinch slightly but force a small smile. “I know,” you murmur.

He sighs deeply, sitting up and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don't regret it,” he says finally, his voice low.

Your head snaps up, your eyes wide with surprise.

“I don't regret being with you,” he continues, his tone softening. “But I regret... I regret that I used you. That I let my emotions... my loneliness take over. You didn't deserve that.”

You shake your head, reaching out to touch his arm. “Jungkook, you didn't use me. I wanted it too.”

He looks at you, his dark eyes filled with conflict.

“I know you did. But that doesn't make it right.”

You hold his gaze, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his expression. “It's not wrong either,” you whisper.

He exhales sharply, standing up and pulling on his jacket. “I need to think," he mutters. “I need to figure out what I'm doing.”

Jungkook walks through the quiet streets, the early morning chill biting at his skin. His mind is a storm of emotions-shame, guilt, longing. He knows he should be thinking about Mina, the case, about everything that's been spiraling out of control in his life. But all he can think about is you.

You, with your soft smile and kind eyes. You, who had welcomed him without judgment. You, who had given him a moment of solace in the chaos.

He doesn't regret being with you, but he regrets what it means. He regrets how easily you've slipped into the cracks of his carefully constructed walls.

And yet, even as he walks away, he knows he'll come back to you. He always does.

Meanwhile, you’re feeling the same… after he leaves you at the door as it shuts.

You sit on the couch long after Jungkook has gone, staring at the spot where he had been just minutes before. Your heart feels heavy, conflicted. Last night had been everything you'd ever wanted, but now it feels tainted by his guilt, his regret.

Still, you can't bring yourself to regret it. Not when it had felt so perfect, so right.

But as you move to the front of the café, preparing for the day ahead, you can't shake the feeling that something has shifted between you and Jungkook. And you're not sure if it's for better or worse.

But you do know that this was only the beginning and this is not gonna end ever and you don’t want to.

•••

A month goes by, he hasn’t visited the cafe after that night woth you, he’s started to get over Mina, The investigation starts to grow worse, the killer more mysterious than ever. Jungkook’s focus shifts entirely to the case, but the memory of that night with you lingers, a dangerous distraction. He avoids Mina entirely, his guilt toward her eclipsed by the tangled emotions he feels when he sees you.

It’s only a matter of time before everything comes crashing down.

•••

The night Jungkook slept with you still lingers in his mind, haunting him like a half-remembered dream, a moment of clarity and chaos all at once. He tells himself it was a mistake, that he was drunk, confused, and in need of something—someone—that wasn’t Mina. But he knows deep down, it was more than that. It was the kind of intimacy that made him feel human again, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Yet, when he wakes up the next morning, reality settles back into place. He tries to push you out of his thoughts as he makes his way to work, but every time he passes by the café, he finds himself looking for you, wondering if you’re there. The guilt gnaws at him, but the emptiness inside makes him think about you again, just for a moment.

What Jungkook doesn’t know, what he can’t see, is that the girl behind the counter, the quiet barista with the warm smile, has already made up her mind. You’ve already planned it out.

Mina is your problem now.

Mina never did anything wrong. She never even knew the darkness that lurked beneath your calm exterior. To her, you were just another face behind the counter, the one who always smiled, who always gave her the right change with a soft chuckle. She was just another customer. But that was before you realized she was still with Jungkook, and that was the last straw.

Mina knows about your crush on Jungkook because, on several occasions in the past, Jungkook had brought her with him when he visited the café. It wasn’t frequent, but enough for Mina to catch on to the subtle tension that simmered between you and him.

You hadn’t meant to make it obvious, but every time Jungkook walked into the café, your demeanor shifted. You’d become a little more flustered, your heart would race, and your eyes would light up, especially when he greeted you with that easy smile. It didn’t take much for someone like Mina, who was always looking for cracks in the façade, to notice.

The first time Jungkook brought her in, you did your best to be casual, to act as though you weren’t paying any special attention to him.

But Mina, watching from across the table, saw how you seemed a little more eager, a little more careful with every cup you made for him. She observed how your voice softened when you spoke to him, how your hands trembled just slightly as you handed him his order. It wasn’t hard for her to figure it out: there was something more than just friendship between you two, even if it was unspoken.

After that day, Mina started coming in more frequently when she knew Jungkook would be there.

She made a point of sitting at a table near the counter, watching the subtle interactions between you two, almost like a game. It gave her a sense of satisfaction—of control—to see how much you cared for him, how much you tried to hide it.

What really gave Mina the final piece of the puzzle was the day Jungkook brought her in again. This time, the way you interacted with him was different. You didn’t hide your feelings as well. You weren’t as guarded. Maybe you thought Jungkook had stopped noticing, that you could just be yourself around him without it being awkward, but Mina saw through it.

She watched you smile at him a little too brightly, watched how your voice softened when you said his name.

That’s when she knew. She had been right all along.

From that point forward, Mina began to play with this knowledge, poking at you, dropping little comments here and there about Jungkook. It wasn’t out of genuine interest in your well-being.

No, Mina was the type who thrived on power, on knowing things others didn’t. She knew you had feelings for Jungkook, and she wasn’t above using that against you.

Mina wasn’t a regular customer, but she made it a point to come by whenever she knew Jungkook would be there. She’d sit back, watch, and wait for you to slip up—because she knew it wouldn’t be long before you showed just how much you cared.

You watch her from the back of the café, your fingers tightening around the edge of the counter as she orders another coffee, laughs too loudly at something a friend says, her smile a little too bright.

You’re not the type to go unnoticed, not anymore. You’ve made sure of it. But this girl? She’s everything you’re not. Beautiful, untainted. Her life is easy—untainted by secrets or shame. But that life is a lie. And she doesn’t deserve it.

The tension builds like a slow-burning fuse as the afternoon wears on. Your hand shakes as you wipe down the counter, the hum of the coffee machine loud in your ears.

Mina doesn’t know how much you hate her. Doesn’t know that she’s the one thing standing between you and what you’ve convinced yourself is yours. Jungkook.

The thought of him with her, the way he always turns to her in the café, makes your stomach twist. You wish she’d just disappear. So, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

•••

The café is quiet as you lock up for the night.

The faint hum of the city lingers in the distance, but it doesn't reach your small sanctuary.

It's been a month since the night with Jungkook, and though he hasn't been back to the café in days, the memory of him is enough to send a shiver through your body.

You've noticed changes-small ones at first. A nauseous unease in the mornings, a fatigue that you can't shake. Tonight, though, you can't ignore the obvious anymore. Your period is late

far too late.

When you get home, you head straight for the drawer where you hid the pregnancy test. It had been an impulsive purchase a few days ago, something you hadn't wanted to face until you

absolutely had to.

The bathroom feels impossibly quiet as you take the test, sitting on the edge of the tub and waiting for the results. Seconds stretch into an eternity. When the lines appear, bold and unmistakable, the air leaves your lungs.

Your mind races. The weight of the word sinks into your chest. It's him. Jungkook. That night.

The night when everything felt like it could finally belong to you. But now, this?

Panic bubbles inside you, but it's swallowed by something darker, more visceral.

Mina's face flashes in your mind, and it's as if the pregnancy test has turned her shadow into a living, breathing entity. She's always there, always hovering around the edges of your thoughts, a reminder of what you'll never truly have.

She broke up with Jungkook that night. You've pieced that much together. She left him, but her presence still looms over you.

It's her fault you feel this way. Her fault that Jungkook can't be entirely yours.

Before you realize it, you're out the door again, the pregnancy test left abandoned on the counter. The idea takes root in your mind with terrifying clarity.

Mina's address isn't hard to find. She used to post pictures from home-soft, curated glimpses of her perfect life.

The city streets blur as you drive. Your fingers tighten on the wheel as adrenaline floods your veins.

When you pull up to her house, the world feels unnervingly still. The house is modest but exudes her curated style, clean and pristine. A pang of rage surges through you.

You knock softly at first. When there's no response, you knock louder, your fist trembling against the wood. Finally, the door opens.

Mina stands there in a loose sweatshirt and leggings, her hair tied back, and her expression instantly hardens when she sees you.

“What are you doing here?” she says sharply, her voice cutting through the air.

You don't answer. You push past her, stepping into her living room without waiting for an invitation. She whirls around, glaring at you.

“Excuse me?” Mina snaps, her hands on her hips. "You can't just barge in here-"

But you're not listening. Your focus sharpens as you glance around the room, taking in the perfection of it all. Everything she's built, everything she's taken from you without even knowing it.

“You ruined him,” you say suddenly, your voice low and trembling.

Mina freezes, her brows furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“You don't deserve him,” you continue, stepping closer. The words spill out, raw and jagged. You never did. You threw him away.”

Mina's eyes widen, and for the first time, there's a flicker of unease in her expression. “Are you insane?” she says, backing up slightly. “This has nothing to do with you.”

But it does. It has everything to do with you.

The knife is in your pocket, cold and heavy against your palm as you pull it out. Mina's eyes go wide, and she lets out a sharp gasp.

“Y/N, stop. What are vou doing?” she says, her voice trembling now, you see fear in her eyes, and that is so satisfying

“I'm taking back what's mine,” you whisper, stepping forward.

Mina screams as you lunge, but she's fast. Her nails rake across your arm as she tries to push you away, drawing blood. The knife slips from your grasp briefly, clattering to the floor, and the two of you struggle, crashing into the coffee table.

She fights harder than you expected. Her fists hit your sides, her nails digging into your skin.

But your rage is stronger, a blinding force that drives you forward.

Finally, you grab the knife again, plunging it into her chest. The scream chokes in her throat, her hands flailing weakly as you press the blade deeper.

The fight leaves her body, her eyes glazing over as she crumples to the floor.

You stand there, panting, your body trembling with adrenaline. Blood pools around her, staining the pristine floor, and it's then you notice the streaks of red on yor wn arms.

Her nails. She scratched you.

Your breath quickens as the reality sets in. You grab a dishcloth from the kitchen, wrapping it around your arm to staunch the bleeding.

You leave quickly, your mind racing. The blood you've left behind is a risk, but it's done now.

She's gone.

As you drive away, the silence in the car feels deafening. You glance at your bandaged arm, your chest heaving with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

It's over. She's gone.

But the faint, nagging thought of the blood you've left behind lingers in the back of your mind, a seed of doubt that you can't shake.

•••

The next day, Jungkook’s phone rings with the news. Mina’s body is found in at her home reported by the neighbors, discarded like a broken toy. The details of her murder are grisly—so much blood, so many signs of a struggle. But there’s something more. Something that gnaws at him,

He doesn’t know it yet, And Jungkook has no idea how close he is to the one thing he’s been hunting.

As he visits the scene of the crime, his heart heavy with guilt over his own sins, the truth starts to swirl around him, each clue pulling him closer to you. But you are always just one step ahead.

And you’re not finished yet.

•••

Jungkook stands at the edge of the crime scene, Mina’s home. Familiar home, his mind racing as he watches the forensic team finish their work. Mina’s body has been taken away, but something about the scene feels unfinished—unnerving. As the team packs up, the lingering sense of wrongness creeps into his chest.

He takes a few more steps into the room, his eyes scanning every inch.

The silence is heavy, thick with the smell of blood, and something else, something he can’t quite place. He feels like he’s being watched even though he’s the only one left. His gut instinct tells him there’s more to find, something hidden beneath the surface.

“Detective Jeon,” a voice calls out, pulling him from his thoughts. He turns to see Officer Lee, the junior detective, holding a small evidence bag.

“What is it?” Jungkook asks, his voice tight with impatience.

“Sir,” Lee continues, stepping closer. “We found something odd in the kitchen area, near the counter. It’s fresh blood, but it doesn’t match the scene at all. It’s… different.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “What do you mean, different?”

Lee’s face shifts, his expression nervous. “It’s not the same consistency as the blood we’ve been seeing from the victims. It seems… newer, almost as if it wasn’t part of the original violence.”

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat. The blood. It’s almost like the killer made a mistake. He follows Lee to the kitchen, where they find the dark stain on the floor. It’s small but unmistakable, a sharp contrast against the faded red of the rest of the scene.

He kneels down, his gloved fingers brushing the edges of the stain. The blood is darker than what they’ve seen from the victim, almost as though it’s been there for some time—but that doesn’t make sense. He knew Mina was killed just hours ago.

“Is this from the victim?” Jungkook asks, still focused on the stain.

“We don’t think so,” Lee replies, his tone uncertain. “It’s not consistent with the rest of the scene.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “It looks fresh.”

His instincts kick in. Something is off, and he knows it’s not just the stain. His gaze lingers on the blood. He needs to know more. If this is part of the same pattern, then they’re dealing with something entirely different.

“Send it to forensics,” he orders. “Get it tested immediately. I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Hours pass before Jungkook finds himself in the sterile white of the forensics lab, waiting as the technician works quickly to process the blood sample they’ve retrieved from the crime scene.

He stands by, his mind on edge, feeling the pull of the unknown tightening its grip. The room is quiet, save for the hum of machinery and the faint clicking of keyboards as the technician runs the test.

Finally, the technician hands Jungkook a printed report. Jungkook takes it with a calmness he doesn’t feel, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he scans the document.

The results are like a slap in the face.

The blood—this blood—belongs to a woman.

His chest tightens as he rereads the details. But it’s not just any woman. The test shows the presence of hormone levels consistent with early pregnancy.

A pregnant woman.

The words blur before his eyes. His mind struggles to make sense of it. Pregnant? How could it be?

This isn’t just some random woman who happened to get involved in the case. This is a pregnant woman. The kind of detail that changes everything.

He stares at the report in stunned silence. Mina’s murder doesn’t fit with any of the previous patterns, but this… this is a whole new level of complexity. And, despite his growing confusion, Jungkook can’t shake the nagging thought that the killer might be someone unexpected—someone who’s been hiding in plain sight.

Jungkook’s mind races as he pieces everything together. The fact that the blood belongs to a pregnant woman is huge. It feels like a lead that could take him in an entirely new direction, but there’s something else gnawing at him. A suspicion he can’t quite shake.

It’s the note he found on Mina’s body. The strange connection between the killings. Every victim has had a twisted background, all male, all with histories of violence or crime. But Mina… she was an exception. A woman. And she wasn’t involved in the same kind of criminal activity.

His gut is telling him something isn’t right. He’s seen this before—when his intuition is pushing him toward an answer, even when he doesn’t have all the pieces. And now, with this new revelation about the blood, that nagging feeling is only growing stronger.

Could the killer be a woman? Could the killer be pregnant? The thought unsettles him, but it makes sense. Perhaps this is the killer’s twist—targeting those who have wronged others, who’ve hurt people in the most vicious ways, while hiding behind a carefully crafted disguise.

As he stands there, staring at the test results, a chilling realization slowly begins to creep in. He hasn’t even begun to connect the dots. He hasn’t yet put it all together.

And the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes the one thing that’s been staring him in the face all along: someone close to him could be hiding this terrible secret.

But he doesn’t know who that is yet.

The blood. The pregnancy. The mysterious nature of Mina’s death—everything points to a killer who’s been hidden from view. Someone who’s not just playing a part in this sick game but is actively controlling the strings.

Jungkook takes one last look at the report in his hand. The piece of paper seems to burn with the weight of its revelation.

“Pregnant,” he mutters under his breath, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. “Who could it be?”

Jungkook’s thoughts are muddled. He hasn’t even considered the possibility that someone he knows could be involved. But the facts keep leading him in that direction.

With every passing second, the answer feels closer, yet farther away. All Jungkook knows for certain is that this case is far more complicated than he ever imagined.

And the killer is closer than he thinks.

•••

That night? he decides to visit his favorite coffee place again

The café is dimly lit, the warm golden glow of the overhead lights casting long shadows across the empty tables. It’s late—well past closing time for most places—but you’re still here. You’ve started staying later than usual, lingering in the quiet of your sanctuary, unable to go home to the lingering guilt of what you’ve done.

You’re wiping down the counter when the bell above the door chimes. The sound startles you, breaking through the silence. When you look up, it’s him.

Jungkook.

He’s standing in the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. It’s been a month since that night, and he hasn’t been back since. Seeing him now feels like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

“Jungkook,” you say softly, your voice barely audible. “You’re here again after a long time..”

He offers a small, tired smile as he steps inside, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. “Hey,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “I know it’s late… but are you still making coffee?”

You nod quickly, trying to push down the rising emotions threatening to choke you. “Of course. For you? Always.”

He sits at his usual spot near the counter, leaning back in the chair as he watches you move around the machine. The silence between you is thick, weighted with everything unsaid.

As you hand him the cup, his fingers brush against yours. The contact is brief but electric, sending a shiver up your spine. He takes a sip, his eyes closing as he lets out a soft sigh.

“This is exactly what I needed,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

You can’t hold it in anymore. The words burst from your lips before you can stop them. “I need to tell you something.”

He looks up at you, his brows furrowing slightly. “What is it?”

Your hands tremble as you grip the counter for support. You’ve been rehearsing this in your head for days, but now, with him sitting there, the reality of it feels overwhelming.

“I’m… I’m pregnant,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, his expression is unreadable. He sets the cup down slowly, staring at you like he’s trying to piece together what you just said.

“What?” he says finally, his voice low and filled with disbelief.

You swallow hard, nodding. “It’s yours, Jungkook. From that night.”

His breath hitches, and he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Pregnant,” he repeats, almost to himself. The weight of the revelation sinks in, his eyes flicking to your stomach before meeting your gaze again.

“That’s… that’s a lot to process,” he says finally, his tone careful.

“But.. promise that I won’t abandon you… I will take full responsibility.. don’t worry… I’m so sorry”

You’re about to say something—anything to break the tension—when his gaze drops to your arm. His brows knit together as he notices the faint, raw scratches peeking out from beneath your sleeve.

“What happened to your arm?” he asks, his tone shifting, more alert now.

Your heart skips a beat, panic rising in your chest. You pull your sleeve down instinctively, hiding the marks. “It’s nothing,” you say quickly, too quickly.

He doesn’t look convinced. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies you. “Those look fresh,” he says, his voice sharp. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No,” you say firmly, forcing a laugh. “I’m just clumsy, that’s all.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. He just watches you, his gaze searching, like he’s trying to read the truth in your expression.

“Y/N,” he says finally, his voice soft but insistent. “If something’s going on, you need to tell me.”

You shake your head, plastering on a smile that feels more like a mask. “It’s nothing, really. You don’t have to worry.”

But he doesn’t look convinced. His jaw tightens, and he leans forward slightly, his fingers drumming against the edge of the table.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low.

You nod quickly, avoiding his gaze. “I promise. Everything’s fine.”

He doesn’t press further, but the tension in the air is palpable. You can feel his eyes on you as you turn away, pretending to busy yourself with cleaning.

The rest of the conversation is stilted, awkward. He finishes his coffee quickly, his movements stiff and deliberate.

“I should go,” he says finally, standing up and sliding the cup toward you. “Thanks for the coffee.”

You nod, forcing a smile as you watch him leave. The door swings shut behind him, and the silence that follows is deafening.

You lean against the counter, your legs trembling beneath you. The scratches on your arm burn as if in reminder. You knew this moment would come, but now that it has, you feel the weight of everything crashing down around you.

He doesn’t suspect you—not yet. But the way he looked at you, the questions he asked… it’s only a matter of time.

•••

Jungkook sits at his desk in the dimly lit precinct, the case file for Mina’s murder spread out before him. His mind is a storm, every detail looping back to the one piece of evidence he can’t shake—the fresh blood at the crime scene, identified as belonging to a pregnant woman.

He had brushed it off at first, thinking maybe it was some unknown accomplice or a bizarre twist in the killer’s pattern. But now, after his late-night visit to the café, everything feels like it’s coming together in ways he wishes it wouldn’t.

His hands clench into fists as he remembers Y/N’s confession.

And then there were the scratches.

They’d looked raw, fresh—exactly like the kind of defensive wounds a victim might leave behind. He tries to dismiss the thought. It’s Y/N, he tells himself. Sweet, shy Y/N, who wouldn’t hurt a fly. But the evidence won’t let him go.

The blood. The scratches. Her sudden nervousness, the way she pulled her sleeve down, the way she avoided his eyes when he asked her about it.

Jungkook takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He doesn’t want to believe it—doesn’t even want to entertain the thought. But as an inspector, he knows he can’t ignore the signs.

He flips through the photos from the crime scene, his eyes lingering on the smear of blood leading away from Mina’s body. The forensic team had confirmed it didn’t belong to Mina, and it wasn’t old enough to have been left by anyone else.

It had to be the killer’s.

He leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. His mind races with conflicting thoughts—his duty to the case, his growing feelings for Y/N, and the sickening possibility that they might be connected in ways he can’t yet comprehend.

“Jeon,” his partner calls from across the room, breaking his train of thought. “Anything new?”

Jungkook shakes his head, snapping the file shut. “No,” he lies. “Still piecing it together.”

But inside, he knows he can’t ignore this.

The next night, Jungkook finds himself back at the café. It’s late again, and the streets are quiet, save for the occasional hum of a passing car. He tells himself he’s just here for coffee, to clear his head. But deep down, he knows that’s not true.

Y/N is behind the counter, her movements slower than usual, as if weighed down by something unseen. She startles when she sees him walk in, her eyes wide, but she quickly masks it with a smile.

“Back again?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

He nods, offering a small smile of his own. “Couldn’t stay away. You make the best coffee, remember?”

She laughs softly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. He watches her closely as she moves, noticing the way she avoids his gaze, the way she keeps her sleeves tugged down over her wrists.

When she sets the cup in front of him, he doesn’t drink right away. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter.

“Y/N,” he says softly, his voice steady but probing.

She looks up at him, her smile faltering. “Yeah?”

“You never told me how you got those scratches,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

Her breath catches, and he sees the flicker of panic in her expression before she quickly masks it. “I told you,” she says lightly. “I’m clumsy.”

“Clumsy enough to leave marks like that?” he presses, his gaze unrelenting.

Her hands tremble slightly as she picks up a cloth and starts wiping down the counter. “Why are you asking?” she says, her tone defensive.

He leans back, his jaw tightening. “Just curious. You know, with everything going on… people getting hurt. Makes me worry.”

She doesn’t respond, her focus fixed on the counter. The tension between them is thick, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

“I’m fine,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

But Jungkook isn’t convinced. Every instinct in him is screaming that something is wrong, that she’s hiding something. And yet, despite everything, a part of him doesn’t want to believe it.

“Okay,” he says finally, his tone softening. “If you say so.”

But as he leaves the café that night, the weight of his suspicions feels heavier than ever. The blood, the scratches, her nervousness—it all lines up too perfectly to ignore.

Jungkook walks slowly back to his car, his mind swirling with thoughts he doesn’t want to entertain. He stops just short of the driver’s seat, leaning against the door and staring at the dark street ahead.

The Y/N he knows—the one he’s been drawn to, the one who seemed so kind, so unassuming—couldn’t possibly be capable of this. Could she?

He slams his fist lightly against the roof of the car, frustration boiling under his skin. He doesn’t want to doubt her. But the evidence doesn’t lie.

That same night, Jungkook decides to dive deeper into the case. He returns to the precinct and retrieves the forensic report on the blood found at Mina’s home. He’s read it before, but now, with fresh eyes, he scans the details again.

The report confirms it: the blood belongs to a pregnant woman. The realization sends a chill down his spine.

Jungkook rubs a hand over his face, exhaustion creeping in as he tries to piece it all together. The killer had left no other trace—no prints, no DNA—just this blood. It was careless, uncharacteristic of someone who had been so meticulous with the other murders.

Why now? he wonders.

The connection feels tenuous at best, but the scratches on Y/N’s arm flash in his mind again, and he can’t ignore the unease building in his chest.

“Jeon,” his partner calls from his desk, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re still here? Go home, man. You’ve been at this for weeks.”

Jungkook forces a nod, shutting the file and grabbing his coat. “Yeah, I’m going,” he mutters.

But he doesn’t go home.

Instead, he drives back to Mina’s house, parking a short distance away and stepping out into the cold night. The crime scene has long since been cleared, but he needs to see it again, needs to feel it.

The house looms dark and silent, a grim reminder of what had happened within its walls. He steps closer, his boots crunching against the gravel as he shines his flashlight across the ground.

And then he sees it—a faint stain on the walkway leading away from the house.

His heart pounds as he kneels down, pulling on gloves and carefully swabbing the dried blood. It’s faint but fresh enough to have gone unnoticed during the initial sweep.

He stands, staring at the swab in his hand. It could be nothing, a stray smear left behind by someone from the forensics team. But it could also be something.

Someone.

As he slips the evidence into a bag, his mind circles back to Y/N. The scratches. Her sudden announcement. The way she seemed so on edge, so unlike herself.

The thought makes his stomach twist painfully. He doesn’t want to believe it, but the pieces are falling into place, and the picture they’re forming is one he can’t ignore.

He gets back into his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly. His next steps are clear: have the blood tested again, cross-reference it, and get answers.

But for now, he sits in the dark, staring out at the empty street,

Caught between his duty as an inspector and the growing fear that the woman he’s falling for might be the one he’s been chasing all along.

•••

It’s been days since Jungkook swabbed the blood at Mina’s crime scene. Days of sleepless nights, staring at reports, running DNA tests, and trying to ignore the tightening noose of suspicion around Y/N.

The results came back that morning. The blood is a match. A match for the mysterious pregnant killer. A match for Y/N, You.

The words on the report burn into his mind, but he can’t bring himself to process them fully. Instead, he spends hours driving aimlessly through Seodaemun-gu, circling back to the café before stopping outside Y/N’s small apartment.

He’s not sure what he’s going to say, or do. The woman he’s fallen for—who is carrying his child—has killed at least eighteen people, including Mina. But the thought of turning you in feels like a betrayal he’s incapable of.

Jungkook climbs the steps to your door, his heart pounding so hard he’s sure you’ll hear it the moment he knocks.

The door opens almost immediately, and Y/N’s face lights up in surprise. “Jungkook,” you say softly, but there’s a tension in your voice, as if you’ve been expecting this moment.

He steps inside without asking, closing the door behind him. His eyes scan the room, searching for something—anything that might confirm what he already knows.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you say, your voice low. You move to the small kitchen, your movements stiff.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “We need to talk.”

You freeze, your back to him, her hand resting on the counter. “About what?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead stepping closer. “You already know what.”

Y/N turns to face him, Your expression guarded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jungkook.”

“Don’t,” he says, his tone sharper than he intends. He exhales slowly, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I know, Y/N. About Mina. About all of it.”

Your face pales, and for a moment, you doesn’t respond. Then you cross your arms, your gaze steady but wary. “You’re mistaken,” you say evenly.

“I’m not,” he replies. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out the forensic report, dropping it onto the table. “This is your blood. At Mina’s house. You were there.”

Y/N’s breath catches, and you looks down at the report, your hands trembling. “It’s not what you think,” you whisper,

“Then tell me what it is!” His voice rises, the frustration and desperation spilling out. “Because the evidence says you killed her, Y/N. It says you’ve killed all of them.”

She doesn’t deny it. Instead, she steps back, her hands gripping the edge of the counter as if to steady herself. “I did it,” she says quietly, her voice breaking. “But they deserved it, Jungkook. Every single one of them.”

He stares at her, the weight of her confession hitting him like a freight train. “Mina didn’t deserve it,” he says, his voice hollow.

Her eyes fill with tears, and she shakes her head. “She broke you, Jungkook. She hurt you. And I couldn’t—”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!” he shouts, his voice cracking with emotion. “You had no right!”

Silence falls between them, heavy and suffocating. Y/N’s tears spill over, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t try to defend herself further.

Jungkook rubs a hand over his face, his thoughts spiraling. He knows what he should do—what his duty demands. But when he looks at her, at the woman carrying his child, he feels nothing but agony.

“I’m pregnant,” she says suddenly, her voice trembling.

“I know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“SERIOUSLY YN What the fuck have you done? I fell in love with a psychotic killer. FUCK!”

She flinches at his tone, her tears falling harder. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she says, her voice cracking. “I just, I couldn’t let them keep hurting people. I couldn’t let her keep hurting you.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, her words tearing through him. When he finally looks at her again, his expression is unreadable. “Do you understand what you’ve done?” he asks, his voice quiet but laced with pain.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“You’ve destroyed everything,” he says, his voice breaking.

She sobs, collapsing into a chair. “I didn’t mean to destroy you, Jungkook. I—”

“You didn’t destroy me,” he cuts her off, his tone icy. “You destroyed us.”

The room falls silent again, the weight of his words suffocating them both.

Finally, he speaks, his voice hollow. “I can’t turn you in, Y/N. I should, but I can’t. Because I—” He stops himself, shaking his head as if to dispel the thought. “But I need you to know that what you’ve done… it’s unforgivable.”

She looks up at him, her tear-streaked face full of anguish. “Then what happens now?”

Jungkook stares at her for a long moment, his jaw clenched, his hands trembling. “I don’t know,” he says finally, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know.”

And with that, he turns and walks out, leaving her alone with her guilt and the devastating weight of what she’s done.

•••

He takes a lot of Days to think about what he’s gonna do next, the truth is that he’s fallen too deeply in love with you to turn you in especially since he found out that you’re pregnant and as fucked up as it sounds, but the way you confessed to him that you killed Mina because she had hurt him,

It switched something inside him.. no one has ever gone that far for him.

You’re expecting his child

He has to do something to save you. He cannot turn you in no matter what.

So he decides to do something, a week later.

Jungkook sits alone in his car, parked a block away from the station. The stack of case files sits on the passenger seat, the details of eighteen brutal murders outlined in gruesome detail. At the top of the stack is Mina’s file.

The weight of what he’s about to do crushes his chest, but he’s made his decision.

If you go down, you take his child with you. You take him with you.

He exhales sharply, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. He’s always been a by-the-book cop, but the moment he fell for Y/N, that part of him started to crumble. Now, he’s about to destroy what’s left of it.

He enters the station with confidence and a mask.

The precinct buzzes with energy as Jungkook walks in, the familiar hum of chatter and clacking keyboards filling the air. His partner, Detective Choi, greets him with a nod.

“Got something for me, Jeon?” Choi asks, leaning back in his chair.

Jungkook sets the files down on his desk, forcing a calm expression. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ve been looking into a lead.”

Choi raises an eyebrow. “A lead? We’ve been spinning our wheels on this for months. What kind of lead?”

Jungkook opens Mina’s file, pulling out the report he fabricated the night before. He had spent hours doctoring evidence, crafting a story that would absolve Y/N of suspicion.

“This,” he says, handing the report to Choi.

Choi scans the document, his expression shifting from skepticism to curiosity. “A drug connection?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook lies smoothly. “I traced the source of the drug found in all the victims to a trafficking ring operating out of Incheon. It’s messy, but I think one of their enforcers is responsible for the killings.”

Choi frowns, flipping through the pages. “An enforcer who kills eighteen people, including Mina, and just disappears?”

“That’s the thing,” Jungkook says, leaning in. “I think they’ve already been eliminated. Internal cleaning. It explains why the killings stopped after Mina’s case.”

It’s a bold lie, but Jungkook delivers it with conviction, weaving in just enough plausible details to make it stick. He knows Choi is sharp, but he also knows his partner is tired of this case. They all are.

Choi nods slowly, handing the report back. “It’s a stretch, but it tracks. You’re saying we close this case on the assumption the killer’s dead?”

Jungkook shrugs, feigning indifference. “Unless you’ve got a better lead, I don’t see another option. The evidence lines up. It’s messy, but it fits.”

Choi exhales heavily, rubbing his temples. “Fine. I’ll run it by the chief.”

•••

The reaction is mixed. Some detectives are relieved to put the case behind them, satisfied with Jungkook’s explanation. Others grumble about loose ends and unanswered questions, but no one presses too hard.

“Good work, Jeon,” the chief says, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve been on this for months. Go home. Get some rest.”

Jungkook forces a smile, nodding. “Thanks, chief.”

As he walks out of the precinct, he feels the weight of his actions settle over him. He’s betrayed his badge, his oath, and every victim in this case.

But he’s saved you.

But there’s still a lot of loose ends that he needs to tie up, especially to convince his department that the pregnant woman was a pawn.

He needs to do something really convincing, and soon because time is running out.

•••

After a lot of days later, you’re almost now almost two pregnant, Jungkook hasn’t visited you after that confrontation and you think that maybe he’s abandoned you and maybe he’s gonna arrest you but you’re ready to pay for your sins.

You know what you were getting into when you decided to do this and you don’t regret killing any one of them.

Especially not Mina

Only if you had any idea… about what is happening around you…

 The apartment is quiet when Jungkook arrives. The air feels thick with tension, the kind that comes from unsaid words, from everything that’s been building up for weeks, months even.

He’s been here before, countless times, but tonight feels different. It’s as if the weight of everything that’s happened has finally caught up to him. The lies. The murder. The twisted love you’ve both been hiding from.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table when he walks in, a cup of cold coffee in front of you, untouched. The dim light casts long shadows across your face,

making you look almost ethereal, but there’s a darkness in your eyes that he hasn’t seen before. He doesn’t know whether it’s the guilt or the truth that lingers between you both, but it’s there. It’s palpable.

You don’t stand up when he enters. You don’t even look at him at first. Instead, your fingers trace the rim of the cup absentmindedly, like you’re lost in thought, deciding what to say. Or maybe deciding if you should say anything at all.

“You’re here,” you say finally, your voice quiet, almost resigned. “I was wondering when you’d come.”

Jungkook closes the door behind him, his breath heavy. The sight of you is almost too much to bear.

He feels the pull, the urgency of everything that’s been building up since that night at the café. But there’s something else too. Something darker. The guilt. The secret he’s been keeping. The knowledge that he’s closing his eyes to the truth.

“I had to,” he replies, his voice hoarse. His eyes move to you, scanning your face, trying to find the woman he once thought he understood, the one who wasn’t a murderer. But now, nothing seems as simple as it once did.

You finally look up, your eyes meeting his, and for a brief moment, he sees it. The crack in your facade. The vulnerability that you’ve been hiding. But it’s fleeting. Quickly masked by that cold, calculating expression he’s learned to fear.

“You did what you had to?” you echo, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “Funny. I didn’t know I was something you had to protect.”

Your stomach twists, guilt washing over you as you feel the weight of your words. The truth that he’s been avoiding hits you like a punch to the gut.

“I didn’t want to…,” he starts, his words faltering. “I didn’t want any of this. But I couldn’t let you go. Not after everything.”

You smile, but it’s not a smile at all. It’s a mask. A shield you’ve put up, but he sees through it. Just like he’s starting to see through everything you’ve done.

“Why didn’t you let me go, Jungkook?” you ask, standing slowly, your eyes never leaving his. You take a step toward him, the space between you narrowing with every heartbeat. “Because of your guilt? Or because you want me? Because you want us?”

Jungkook feels the heat rising in his chest, his body tense, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He wants to deny it, wants to tell you that it’s not like that, but the truth is too raw to ignore. He’s in too deep. He’s in love with you.

“I…” he hesitates, struggling with the words that seem impossible to say. “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Y/N. But I want you. More than anything.”

The words hang in the air between you both, thick with tension. You step closer, the space between you vanishing entirely. Your breath is warm against his skin as you raise a hand to his chest, tracing a line down to the hem of his shirt.

“Then why do you keep pretending like this is all just a mistake?” Your voice is soft now, a little breathless, but there’s something in it that makes his heart race even faster. “You know what I’ve done. You know the truth. So why are we still playing this game?”

His chest tightens as he stares into your eyes, the question echoing in his mind. Why are we still playing this game?

He’s already crossed too many lines, already made choices that can’t be undone. He’s in love with you, and that’s the only truth he can hold onto right now. But the guilt, the knowledge of what you’ve done—it’s suffocating him.

“I’m here because I don’t have a choice,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ve already made my choice. And it’s you.”

You look at him, your gaze calculating, but something flickers in your eyes. Relief? Or is it something darker? He can’t tell anymore.

“You don’t have to choose between me and the truth, Jungkook,” you say, stepping even closer until you’re inches apart. “The truth is… we belong together. In everything we’ve done. In everything we’ll do.”

The words send a shiver through him. There’s no going back now. He knows it. You know it.

His hands reach for you, pulling you into him, and your lips meet in a kiss that is desperate and consuming. He’s not thinking anymore. He’s not questioning. He’s just here, with you, drowning in everything that’s pulled you both together.

When you finally break apart, his breath is ragged, his chest heaving. Your hands rest on his shoulders, your eyes dark with something he can’t quite place.

“I’ll do anything for you,” he says, his voice hoarse, the words pouring out of him without thought.

“I know,” you reply softly, your fingers brushing against his neck. “And I’ll do anything for you too. But we have to be honest with each other now. No more lies.”

He nods, the weight of your words sinking into his bones. There’s no turning back now. “Jungkook.. you know it was a big skill investigation rate. How did you even convince your department to close the case tell me what did you do.”

He looks at you and smiles

He’s made his choice.

“Okay fine I will tell you.”

The investigation was closing in, and with each passing day, the walls seemed to close in tighter around Jungkook. The blood—so carefully planted at Mina’s crime scene—was becoming a ticking time bomb, and the pressure to keep Y/N safe weighed heavily on him. His heart hammered in his chest every time the case came up in discussion, and he knew he had to take drastic measures.

He needed to shut it all down. Permanently.

That’s when it hit him: a recently discovered body in a nearby district. A woman—pregnant, recently deceased, and conveniently found under suspicious circumstances. She wasn’t the killer, but to Jungkook, she might as well have been. He could use her to frame the entire investigation.

When Jungkook visited the morgue that night, the body lay still on the cold steel table, a haunting reminder of the fragile line between life and death. The woman had died under mysterious circumstances, no clear motive, no clear suspect. And with her pregnancy, she was the perfect pawn.

Jungkook’s mind raced as he walked around the body, his eyes lingering on her swollen belly, her pale face, the indistinct bruises on her skin that told a story he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. He felt a sharp pang in his chest, the ghost of guilt flickering behind his thoughts. But there was no time for hesitation. He needed this body.

In his mind, he already had a plan.

He would stage the scene, make it look like this woman was the killer. He’d plant evidence that suggested the woman had been linked to Mina’s death—trace amounts of blood, a few fingerprints in the wrong places. A well-placed piece of clothing or object to tie her to the scene. It was risky, but it was the only way to close the case without implicating Y/N.

The morgue attendant, a sleepy-eyed man who didn’t seem to care much for the dead, handed him the body without question. Jungkook took a deep breath, making sure his hands didn’t shake. He carefully moved the body, knowing exactly what he needed to do.

Hours later, the police were called to a new crime scene. It was the same as always—an empty alleyway with the body of a woman found in a position that suggested something far darker than a random attack. The crime scene looked eerily similar to the previous murders, and that’s exactly what Jungkook had hoped for.

His mind worked quickly, placing the body of the pregnant woman at the scene as though she had been the one to kill Mina. The blood trail leading away from her. A few well-placed items. The evidence was there, but just subtle enough to make it believable.

The next day, Jungkook presented the findings to the department. His colleagues seemed to buy it without much question.

The body of the pregnant woman, found near the alley where Mina had been murdered, in her own home, was identified as the suspect. The evidence—though still sparse—was enough to back up the theory he had fabricated.

“I’ve spoken with forensics,” Jungkook said, standing tall as the room buzzed with suspicion. “The blood found near Mina’s body and the scene where this woman was found confirms our theory. This woman, whoever she was, was clearly involved. And she was pregnant, which explains her connection to the killer we’ve been hunting.”

The room fell silent, the officers looking at each other in confusion. But Jungkook pressed on, pushing the narrative with an authoritative tone.

“She was part of the criminal network, no doubt. This is why the killer used her. She was a pawn, an expendable figure, dragged into something much larger.”

“But with her death, we’ve finally identified her role. She’s the one we were after.”

Jungkook’s voice was steady, rehearsed, convincing. He wasn’t just presenting evidence; he was weaving the story.

One of the officers, a sharp-eyed veteran named Park, raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a skeptical look. “Are you sure, Jeon? This all seems… too neat. A little too perfect.”

Jungkook took a breath, pushing his doubts aside. “We have to tie it up. The evidence is there. It explains everything. And it leads us to believe that the killer is someone who knew how to manipulate the situation. A pregnant woman was used to distract us from the true killer.”

He met Park’s gaze, holding it long enough to send the message. There was no going back now. He had to make this work.

•••

After a lot of deliberation, and no further suspicions or clues, Jungkooks lie worked

But there were too many questions now. How far could he go before his lies caught up to him? Would the department ever suspect him, even if they’d closed the case?

And most importantly, how much longer could he keep this secret—his secret—hidden from everyone, especially from Y/N?

With the department’s approval, Jungkook walked away from the case, his mind heavy with the weight of the lies he’d told. But as whenever he looked at Y/N, the mother of his child, he knew that no matter what it took, he would do whatever it took to keep her from being discovered.

The announcement came in later that day: Case #178-C, the Seodaemun Serial Killings, officially closed.

The case was officially closed. The department was satisfied, the investigation wrapped up, and the media was ready to move on to the next headline. Jungkook, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was unraveling. He had used the body of a pregnant woman, a victim in her own right, to save Y/N—and his own conscience.

And now you two, will be together forever, and it will be your own heaven where no one will ever disturb you both and your growing family.

Everything is fair in love and war after to all

And this was both.

The love stored in his heart and the war of his own conscious, and eventually the love for you and his heart lawn over the war in his conscious.

“So you see, yn? Start packing your bags. You’re moving in with me and we’re gonna get married and have a child and live happily ever after.”

He stares at you with a lot of love in his eyes, but there’s something darker and you recognize it because it’s such a familiar look

A look that you often saw in your own mirror.

You kiss him again and smile against his lips.

You will do anything for him and you know now that he will also do anything for you.

Everything was worth it.

He was always worth it.

And he knows for a fact that you’re always gonna be worth it

[oh-no-its-bird]

Sakumo being a super popular borderline sex symbol in his era will never stop being my favorite hc, I need to see more of it

All the people his age and younger had a crush on him. It was just a Thing(tm) where 9 times out of 10, a Konoha shinobi's first crush was probably Sakumo. Even other villages young shinobi hung up his bingo book picture above their bunk and dreamed of both killing him, being killed by him (in a hot way), having a battlefield fling with him, and more. There was blackmarket fanfiction. He was incredibly popular among civilians all over fire country. Some popular romance novels had love interests very blatantly based off him.

Even before they were on a team together, Obito and Rin both had a silly kid crush on Kakashi's dad (Obito more than Rin) and he was aware of it. This did not help make him like them any more. (By the time hearing smthn positive ab his dad would have made Kakashi softer, they'd both gotten better at hiding the crush, so to Kakashi it looked like they'd gotten over Sakumo.) Even Minato had a bit of a thing for him, not really but like— strong, popular, feard and very friendly ninja who is now paying him some attention (bc hes his kids teacher) he's not immune. Kushina understands, she is also not immune. (Kakashi is going to throw a fucking fit)

Even after his failed mission, when his reputation crashes and burns within the village, he still can't completely shake his admirers— they possibly just get more disrespectful ab the attraction when it mixes with the hate. (Which tbh could make for an interesting discussion all on its own)

Kakashi is haunted by his father's insane popularity for decades after his death. He does his very best to ignore the lingering evidence of people being insane ab his father.

One day he realizes one of his favorite romance novels has a romance interest based off Sakumo and has a break down ab it and can never read the series again.

When raiding an old abandoned enemy camp w Team Ro, he finds an old, autographed photo of his dad covered in lipstick marks in the communal bathroom. He chooses to ignore it but it's quickly spotted by his teammates, who do not know who Sakumk is, and v quickly begin to remark on the poster, who this mysterious Konoha nin is, and ahaha damn he is kinda good looking, huh? (Kakashi wants to DIE)

Shisui ends up taking the poster back to Konoha with them and hangs it up in the ANBU communal quarters where it is VERY quickly recognized. And also some of the people in that room recognize it so quick bc they also used to own a similar poster. (Kakashi wants to DIE someone PLEASE kill him now)

Its only when he's given team 7 that he finally thinks he's escaped the legacy of his father as Konoha's Most Sexiest Shinobi. Only for Naruto, when being trained by Jiriyah, to find his drafts for Icha Icha very clearly inspired by his dad. Which he can never publish for multiple reasons (lingering respect for Sakumo. Also for Kakashi, who is his biggest fan and would probably never look at him again.)

Naruto somehow accidentally brings this up with Kakashi who like. Has war flashbacks and immediatley stands up and walks away as Jiryah scrambles to try to explain himself and Tsunade looks on in scorn (she will approach him later to carefully ask for the drafts while trying to seem like she's not really asking for them bc she's too proud to admit it)

Naruto and Sakura discover Kakashi-sensei's dad was a sex symbol. I don't even know how they'd react but like. Oh my god. Oh my god you guys.

Funniest option would be they accidentally revive his popularity a little bit by being so loud ab it they like, remind people ab him. + introduce another generation to the idea of him

Kakashi is crouched on the floor with his face in his hands. When will he be freed from this hell.

Sasuke does not escape tho, he goes to sound and finds a picture of Sensei's dad in Orochimaru's office (???????)

This is such a shitty sketch but the vision:

Itachi, who learned who Sakumo was from that poster thing, goes on to find a photo of him in ""Madara's"" belongings and gets super weirded out but ultimately doesn't. Super care. But also. Like. What. What.

After Itachi finds the photo, which Obito genuinley forgot he fucking had and keeps in part just bc its like one of the only belongings that remained from his Konoha days, he shoves it somewhere in Kamui to forget about.

But then in the Obito vs Kakashi Kamui fight, it fucking flutters down in the middle of the fight and Obito fucking dies of humiliation as Kakashi realizes he will truly Never Escape and that this reality is his own personal hell

Uhh endgame Kakashi becomes Hokage and accidentally retreads his father's path in becoming the new Konoha Sexy Man. Which simultaneously crushes him (he will never escape) and fills him with delight (he will now be able to impart the pain of having your father figure be lusted after by all ur friends and acquaintances onto his students)

[skylin-files]

girl code ⋆ na jaemin

pov: your best friend's former situationship started hitting you up. what could go wrong?

pairing: college student!jaemin x college student! yn

featuring! winter of aespa, nct members

note: this is my first work here. there will be three parts; this is part one. i hope you like it; your comments will be highly appreciated. ♡

check part two here: part 2 | part 3 (final)

── .✦

You and Winter have been best friends for as long as you can remember, inseparable since high school. Back then, you were the duo everyone recognized, always having each other’s backs. But now, in college, life has taken you to separate universities.

You’ve remained a consistent dean's lister and an active member of the campus newspaper, carrying the title of "no boyfriend since birth." Your focus has always been on academics, firmly believing that boys would only be a distraction.

Winter, on the other hand, has been part of her university’s cheer team since her freshman year. For her, cheer takes precedence over academics, and she’s had more talking stages than actual relationships. She’s the embodiment of "pretty privilege."

A classic pair of opposites, perhaps a little cliché. Despite your differences, your bond has always been unbreakable—until a boy enters the picture.

Speaking of the boy, there’s Jaemin, Na Jaemin.

“Na Jaemin!” Jeno, Jaemin’s best friend, yells from outside his apartment, accompanied by the relentless blaring of his car horn.

“I’m not leaving until you open the damn door, Jaemin!” Jeno laughs, still pressing the horn.

“Are you insane? It’s almost midnight. Stop honking the car,” Jaemin grumbles over the phone, peering out his window to spot Jeno grinning, clearly amused. Jaemin shakes his head, slipping on his jacket and grabbing his keys before heading out.

“What took you so long? I told you we’re going to Johnny’s party. You don’t have a say in this,” Jeno remarks as Jaemin climbs into the car. “What were you doing anyway?” he adds.

Jaemin takes a moment, lighting a cigarette before replying, “Homework.”

── .✦

“He looks good—flawless. God’s favorite child,” Winter remarks, scrolling through Instagram as she admires a boy on her screen.

“Who?” you ask, leaning in curiously.

“Oh, just my failed talking stage,” Winter replies casually.

“It’s a failed talking stage for a reason, yet you’re still simping over him,” you tease with a smirk.

“You should get a boyfriend,” you suggest for the thousandth time, genuinely concerned by the growing list of Winter’s failed talking stages and situationships.

“No, you’re the one who needs a boyfriend,” Winter fires back.

“No boyfriend in high school, and now we’re in college, still no boyfriend!” she complains dramatically. You roll your eyes, amused by her antics.

“Boys would do me no good,” you counter.

“Yeah? What about Mark and Haechan?” Winter quips, referencing the two boys you’ve been close to since the start of college.

“They’re different—exceptions,” you retort firmly.

“Whatever,” Winter mutters, waving you off.

── .✦

As the typical college student you are, you decided to pull an all-nighter. Currently on a Discord call with your college friends, Mark and Haechan, what was meant to be a study session had derailed—Mark was already fast asleep, lost in his dreams.

While typing up a draft for an article for your campus newspaper and listening to Haechan’s playlist, your phone buzzed with a text from Winter.

Winter: “Please pick me up. I’m at the local club near your university.”

You frowned, puzzled as to why Winter was partying near your campus and not somewhere closer to her own. A quick glance at the clock showed it was already 2:00 a.m.

“I stayed up all night to be productive, not to fetch an alcoholic from a club,” you muttered under your breath. Still, you knew you couldn’t leave Winter stranded, so you began saying goodbye to Haechan. Winter could be a handful, but you weren’t about to let her fend for herself.

“Want me to come with you?” Haechan offered as you started to log off. “It’s late, and I don’t mind. We can just leave Mark here,” he added, the two of you laughing at Mark’s sleeping figure still visible on the screen.

“Sure, so are you driving?” you teased.

Haechan rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah, yeah, like I have a choice,” he quipped, grabbing his keys.

── .✦

You felt the strange stares as you walked into the club, clad in a hoodie and sweats, phone pressed to your ear as you called your best friend. The line was picked up almost instantly.

"Winter, where are you?" you asked, only to hear a man’s voice reply.

"This isn’t Winter," he said.

"Who are you? Where’s Winter?"

"Smoking area. Come quick," he answered before hanging up, leaving you no time to respond.

When you reached the smoking area, you were greeted by the sight of Winter hunched over, puking. Beside her stood a boy casually scrolling through his phone, holding her bag like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Winter!" you called, drawing the boy’s attention.

"It’s a school night," you muttered in frustration, moving to help your best friend.

"Right," the boy murmured, barely audible but clear enough for you to hear.

"I ran into her inside," he explained, finally looking up from his phone. "She said she felt like she was going to throw up."

You froze momentarily, caught off guard by his appearance. He looked good—like God’s favorite child, visuals with no imperfection in sight.

"Do you two know each other?" you asked, not directing the question at anyone in particular.

"Yes!" Winter chimed in, her voice still tipsy.

The two of you exchanged a glance as Winter wiped her mouth, straightened up, and grinned as if she hadn’t just been throwing up moments ago—far from her usual composed self.

"Please take me home," Winter slurred, swaying slightly.

── .✦

“Who’s that?” Haechan asked, leaning casually against his car as he spotted you and Winter, who was currently being carried by an unfamiliar boy.

You shrugged. “No idea, but apparently, they know each other.”

“He looks fine,” Haechan remarked, his eyes trailing over the boy. You couldn’t argue with that, but you stayed quiet.

The boy gently helped Winter into Haechan’s car, her giggles filling the air as she pinched his cheek. Haechan grimaced at the interaction.

“Stop being a hater,” you said, nudging Haechan lightly.

Turning your attention to Winter, you asked, “Are you okay? Do you need water?”

Winter cooed dramatically, “You’re such a sweetheart!” Her voice was loud enough to make you, Haechan, and the boy flinch simultaneously.

Winter’s attention shifted back to the boy as she poked his cheek. “You’re a sweetheart too. You should date my best friend,” she said, her words slurring slightly.

Haechan snorted at the comment. “She’s been single since forever,” Winter added with no filter, causing Haechan to burst out laughing.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Shut up,” you muttered, placing Winter’s bag beside her in the car.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, which didn’t escape the boy’s notice as he smiled at the scene. His smile didn’t go unnoticed by you either.

── .✦

“Where were you?” Jeno exclaimed as he approached Jaemin outside the local club. Jaemin flicked his half-smoked cigarette into the trash as Jeno arrived.

“I ran into Winter,” Jaemin replied casually, prompting a frown from Jeno.

“Winter? As in Winter, your former... situationship?” Jeno asked, his tone laced with curiosity. Jaemin nodded in confirmation.

“Good thing her friend showed up to pick her up,” Jaemin added, earning an understanding nod from Jeno.

“You're lucky because if her friend hadn't shown up, you’d probably have been the one stuck taking her home,” Jeno teased with a chuckle.

Jaemin nodded. “Exactly what I was trying to avoid. You know I don’t want to have anything to do with Winter anymore.”

── .✦

It was just another day on campus when you entered the lab room, which was unusually crowded as your professor had combined your class with another.

“I wonder who my lab partner will be. Will I be paired with someone from the other class?” you mutter as you sat down and got comfortable, but almost immediately, a voice from beside you interrupted.

“Is this seat taken?” a deep voice asked.

Looking up, you were met with a familiar face—the same guy from last night, the one you suspected knew Winter. Once again, you were struck by his looks. He seemed even more handsome now, his features more defined under the bright lighting.

“Oh, it’s you,” the guy said, sitting down next to you without waiting for you response, his neutral expression replaced by a playful smile.

“I didn’t say the seat was free,” you remarked, watching as he settled into the chair.

He ignored your comment, instead glancing at your university ID. After reading your name, he wrote your name and his on a piece of paper.

“What are you doing?” You asked, watching him scribble.

The boy gestured toward the whiteboard at the front of the room, where it read:

"Look for a lab partner—by pair only! Write your and your partner's name on a sheet of paper. " You were momentarily taken aback as he casually wrote your name next to his on the paper, "Na Jaemin," it read, before standing up from his seat and walking to the front of the class to submit it.

As Jaemin walked back to his seat, you felt your cheeks flush for no apparent reason. Clearing your throat, you muttered softly, "I guess we're lab partners now."

Jaemin sat down and glanced at you, his head tilting slightly as a charming smirk appeared on his face. He thought your sudden shyness, which wasn’t there when you were picking up Winter, was quite adorable.

"I guess we are," he says, his smile widening slightly as he looks at you.

This was definitely going to be an interesting lab class for Na Jaemin.

[otakubimbo]

Sick Days

Sylus x MC!Reader

Sylus couldn't get in contact with you and he knew that being a hunter was a dangerous job but what you had wasn't an injury to your body per say. It was an injury to your immune system. AKA Sylus taking care of you when you're very very sick

OB: Hi I started writing this while i had covid back in august and I'm working on clearing out all of my old fic drafts so bear with me on any other updates

masterlist

A groan escapes your lips as you forcefully peel your eyes open. Your throat hurts, your head hurts, your body hurts, everything hurts. It took you a bit to register that the banging wasn’t in your head, but it was at your front door. Every cell in your body screaming at you to stay in your bed, but the knocking just wouldn’t stop.

As you sit up out of bed, your head immediately spins from the sudden motion.

“Fuck,” you attempt to steady yourself before fully getting out of bed, but it was hard. You tried to take a deep breath but that just caused you to have a coughing fit. The burn in your throat and chest is almost unbearable. The toll of whatever sickness you had had a harsher effect on your body than you thought. Initially, you assumed you could have just slept off whatever it was but now you were so sure.

Slowly, you struggle your way to the front door, blanket securely wrapped around you since you were freezing. Eventually, you get your door open as you glare at a well-dressed chest, your eyes racking up to see the owner of said chest. It was, of course, Sylus.

“Well, hello there, kitten. Nice to finally see you.” He smirks down at you for just a moment before noticing the state you were in, gently pushing you back to enter your space, closing the door behind him.

“What are you doing here Sylus?” You ask, your voice is scratchy and hoarse.  Sylus brow creases as he gives you a once over.

“Mephesto claims you haven’t left your house in two days, and you haven’t been answering my messages or phone calls.” He says as he raises a hand to your forehead to gauge your temperature. You swat his hand away as you realize what he was saying. Two days? You haven’t left for two days??? You were just at work yesterday when you got sent home, right? Holding your hand out, you request him to hand you his phone which he does with no complaint. Ignoring the picture of the two of you as his lock screen and notice that in fact it had been two entire days since you had been home. You shove his phone back into his hand and shuffle back to your room to look for your phone. There it sat on your nightstand, still on the charger, opening it up to see several messages and missed calls from Sylus of course but some from Luke and Kieran, a few from Jenna and Tara telling you to get well soon, along with a few from Rafayel, Xavier, and Zayne.

“I-“ you stutter as you sit down on your bed, “ I guess I’ve been in and out of sleep this whole time.” You say with a frown, attempting to rub the pain out of your head. As you go through the numerous texts, a coughing fit erupts making Sylus run over to rub your back. He tries to soothe you as your fit dies, rubbing your back gently as you calm down, taking the blanket from around you, pushing you to lay down and tucking you in. You hadn’t even realized that you were truly TUCKED in until Sylus is running a hand over your cheek and you can’t move.

“Let me out Sylus” You struggle from how tightly he tucked you in, but you didn’t have any real strength in you to get out.

“No can do, kitten. You’re sick and I’ll just have to take care of you.” He puts his hand on your forehead to truly check your temperature. You were burning up and it took everything in Sylus to keep a neutral face, he was worried about you. He had originally thought, you had just buried yourself in work again but seeing you in this state does something to his heart that he doesn’t like. You were such a strong woman and now where you were, weak and frail and not from any wanderer just from what was probably the common cold.  

“I’ll be fine, I can take care of myself.” You refute, struggling yet again but not putting up much of a fight. Theres a slight twitch in Sylus expression as he watches you.

“Please” Sylus voice comes out just above a whisper and you stop moving. It caught you off guard and you stopped fighting. “Thank you, so stubborn” he kisses the top of your head as you scoff.

You hadn’t even realized that you were falling asleep until you were being woken up by Sylus gently.

“What’s going on” you look around confused as you attempt to sit up, Sylus grabs your arm helping you as a rag falls off the top of your head.

“You have to eat something Kitten.” Sylus states as he grabs a bowl of some type of soup putting the spoon up to your mouth. You take a sip of it without complaint, it soothes but hurts your throat at the same time causing a groan to come out of your mouth. Sylus inhales a deep breath, gripping the spoon harder. You weren’t getting better, if anything it seemed like you were getting worse. Your skin was getting pale, your temperature wasn’t going down, and all you were doing was sleeping and while you were sleeping you were shaking. You were in cold sweat; he had to change the rag on your head almost every thirty minutes.

“It hurts, Sy” You grimace after you try to swallow another spoon full of soap. Your voice was so weak, you looked so frail, it was literally breaking his heart to see you like this.

Sylus puts down the bowl, “Just lay down sweetie.” He helps you get back under the covers and before he can even get back with another towel for your head, you’re asleep.

Now Sylus was a prideful man for sure, but for you, for you he would do anything, for you he would put aside his pride. He knew he couldn’t just call any sort of doctor because of the aether core in your heart, so he knew he had to call your doctor, Doctor Zayne. But oh, did he hate Dr.Zayne, YOUR Dr.Zayne. Sylus just knew that man was in love with you, your childhood friend who spent his life becoming a heart surgeon and then being your personal doctor. Tsk, he’s heard of the whole childhood friends to lover’s trope, he wasn’t a dumb man. He wasn’t dumb, but he was desperate, and he needed you to get better. It had already been a full day since he had been in your place, and you just kept getting worse. Begrudgingly he picked up your phone and did what he had to do.  

You don’t remember much in your sick haze. It was hard to even distinguish what was really going on or what was part of your fever dreams. You lucidly remember Sylus waking you up to give you soup and take medicine. You think you remember Zayne coming in which would make sense, he is your doctor, but you also remember Xavier? Maybe you weren’t particularly sure, it wouldn’t really make sense for him to be there, but you were sure you remembered seeing him.

Eventually, you gain a full sense of consciousness. Surprisingly, your body doesn’t ache like it has been and there isn’t an immense pressure in your head. You attempt to sit up when you notice a hand holding onto your arm, and attached to the hand was Sylus. A soft smile spreads on your face as you see him sitting most likely uncomfortably in a chair next to your bed. His head was laid beside you and his hand grasping onto your arm. You had no clue had long he had been there or how long he had been taking care of you. The pill bottles, half eaten soup and cups of water you don’t remember drinking or taking had to have come from somewhere and it wasn’t you.

“Ah, I see the kitten has finally stirred from her hibernation.” Sylus exhausted face meets your curious eyes.

“Yeah, I’m feeling much better.”  You say with a yawn and a stretch. The gaze he is giving you makes you feel small, causing you to turn away from him, “thank you”

His hand reaches out to grab your chin gently, “You had me worried, sweetie. You had a respiratory infection and pneumonia. What would have happened to you if I wouldn’t have come?” His jaw is set tight and you don’t think you would ever see the feared Onychinus leader looking scared. He was scared, scared he was going to lose you…...again.

“…… I’m sorry but you took care of me and I’m fine now. Yeah?” You say turning your head out of his hands in more embarrassment as you busy yourself with straightening out your night stand. As you pick up the bottle of pills, you notice you see that Zayne prescribed these. You glance between the bottle and then at Sylus.

He scoffs before taking the bottle from your hand, putting it back down “Well of course I had to reach out to your doctor. Your fever wouldn’t go down.”

“But you hate Zayne?”  You questioned as you tilt your head in a way that was way too cute for Sylus.

“I do not hate the doctor. I just don’t like how friendly he is with you on the occasion.” He scoffs at the giggle you let out, “And I’m aware that you are childhood friends, but the man should have some boundaries”

That makes you laugh even harder, not THE Sylus Quin talking about boundaries. He wouldn’t know a boundary if it shot him in the heart. It was sweet, he was being so sweet.

“Yeah, I thought seeing him was just a fever dream I was having actually. Funny enough, I thought I also saw my friend Xavier here.”

The noise that leaves Sylus had you holding back the biggest laugh that you could possibly muster. So in fact you had not imagine Xavier, he had actually been there and surprisingly Sylus let him in.

“Another one of your ‘friends’ who needs to work on their boundaries. He came over in the middle of the night questioning about your whereabouts after sending you NUMEROUS texts and phone calls. He was insistent on seeing you or he would have gotten your little hunter association involved and I didn’t think you would want that.” He groans with this cute pout on his face. “It seems you have a lot of these type of ‘friends’ who lack any type of boundaries. You should work on that sweetie.”

You reach out to grab his face making him look at you, his gaze softened when he saw your face “Thank you for taking care of me, Sy.”

He grabs your hand a places a small kiss upon the back of it, “Of course Kitten”

[dollfacefantasy]

LOCK ME DOWN TONIGHT ♡

pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

summary: seeing how you handle babysitting his nephew gives your boyfriend some ideas about what he wants in the future with you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, breeding kink, tummy bulge, biting, au obviously lol

a/n: i hope you guys like this one. it's my first time writing for sukuna so i'm still learning. he's kinda ooc here but i scrapped my other draft last minute and i thought this was a cute idea so whatever. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 18 - breeding kink

You make sure to be as quiet as you possibly can while shutting the door to Yuji's bedroom. After an hour of going back and forth and the small boy pleading to stay up with you and your boyfriend downstairs, you'd finally managed to get him to fall asleep.

Padding down the carpeted hallway, you turn the corner and hit the light switch off before descending the stairs. Your socks slide against the hardwood floors of the landing as you hop down the last few steps and then cross the entryway into the living room where your boyfriend waits for you on the couch.

He's leaned back into the corner of the puffy cushions, relaxed as ever in a pair of sweats and a tank top on his upper half. Both of his exposed arms drape over the backing. Upon seeing you, he flashes a lazy grin and runs his fingers through the unkempt hair atop his head.

"You finally get the little brat to go down?" he asks.

You nod and make your way over to him. "No thanks to you," you say as you sit down beside him.

He smirks and lowers one of his muscular arms to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side.

"You're just such a natural with him. I didn't think you'd need my help," he says, a hint of teasing lacing every word.

Shooting him a playful glare, you scoff and scoot into his lap. "You still could've tried. He's your nephew."

"He calls you his aunt though," he teases. He leans in to nip at your cheek and nose your temple.

The words bring a slight rush of warmth to your cheeks. They're true. The little boy you just put to bed acknowledges you as part of the family just as much as he does his actual uncle. In fact, you were the one to push Sukuna into accepting the offer to babysit tonight. He hadn't wanted to, preferring to spend the evening alone with you all to himself. But integrating yourself into his life mattered to you, so he only protested a little before agreeing.

He notes your reaction to his prior statement, and his smug look reaches his eyes. "Oh come on, don't tell me that has you all flustered," he taunts, "You're too easy."

"Shut up. You said it like that on purpose," you say and pinch his arm.

Grinning at the gesture, he maneuvers the two of you around so that you're on your back and he's above. The tv casts a faint glow over the both of you, the flashing pictures painting the scenery with pale blues and washed-out pinks.

"How'd I say it, babe?" he asks.

"Like you do when you're trying to get me all worked up and stuff," you answer, tracing the tip of your index finger over the tattoos spanning from his shoulder to his arm. Your eyes flit between his piercing eyes and soft lips.

"Is that what you think I'm trying to do?" he says. But before you even get your answer out, he ducks down to pepper kisses along the column of your throat.

Your eyes flutter, a natural response to the feathery touches upon your skin. He always started out like this, tender and gentle, before devolving into his true nature. One of your arms wraps around him, your fingers trailing up the ribbed fabric of his top. The other pushes on his shoulder in a light rebuff.

"Yeah, but we can't," you protest.

"And why not?" he breathes. The puff of air fans over your flesh, chilling the parts wet with his saliva.

"Because 'kuna..." you start, trailing off a bit as he lays more kisses along your carotid artery, "We're supposed to be babysitting. He could come downstairs..."

"He won't," he interjects, "You saw how tired he was. He's out for the night. Plus he's clumsy, I'd hear him coming even if he did get up."

You sigh and bring your hand up to lace through his messy pink locks. He's pretty good at convincing you.

"Why are you so riled up anyways?" you ask in an attempt to give yourself a distraction.

He chuckles against your skin, nipping a mark onto your neck before speaking. "Is it really a mystery?" he asks.

"Yeah. What were you doing while I was upstairs?" you ask playfully.

"It's not that," he says, smirking at your cluelessness. He rolls his hips against one of your thighs and lets you feel the semi hard bulge beneath the cotton of his pants. "It's been all night. Seeing you taking care of Yuji like that, it has me thinking about what it would be like to see you carrying a baby of our own."

Your eyes snap open and look at the ceiling with sudden, wide clarity. You hadn't been expecting that at all. Your mind had been more in the realm of short-term, simpler things. Like scrolling past some porn on his phone or catching sight of a sex scene on the tv. Not the prospect of getting you knocked up.

It's not even that you're opposed to the idea. You just didn't think he would feel this way about it.

He senses your startled reaction and grinds his stiffening length against you again. "You're just so good with him. Can't help it," he mumbles.

"I- um... thanks?" you say timidly, voice still soft and shaky from the affection he's lavishing on your neck.

"Don't be so shy about it. Don't act like you haven't thought about it too," he murmurs.

The plush inner skin of your thighs presses into his sides. That was also true. You had thought of it before. After years of being together, the occasional image of him cradling a sleeping baby or boosting a small child onto his shoulders crossed your mind. You'd just kept them to yourself knowing your boyfriend wasn't exactly the lovey-dovey, wistful daydreams type.

"Yeah... I've thought about it before," you confirm.

"Mhm. That's right," he says. His hips have settled into a continuous rhythm. He rocks them between your legs. You feel the dull bloom of pleasure beginning at your center. "You'd look fuckin' gorgeous full of my baby," he whispers.

Your legs squeeze him tighter as if to draw his body in closer. Your breaths that had already been shallow come out more shuddery. It was silly almost, how hot the simple fantasies of domestic bliss could get you. The image of his large hands splayed across your swollen belly. The thought of his lips kissing over your bump, teeth scraping against the sensitive flesh as they do to every other part of your body. The praises he'd rain upon your figure that expanded to accommodate his spawn.

"Yeah, I know you like that," he murmurs, "So c'mon. Let me try to put a baby in you."

"Tonight?" you squeak. 

His hands slide up your sides as he nods. One of his large palms rises to paw at your breast. He gropes the mound, further stirring the arousal brewing within you.

"Yeah tonight," he says, "You feel how hard I am for you, how bad I want it. I don't think we'd have much trouble."

Involuntarily, you whimper. As much as you planned to resist, giving into temptation seemed like the only option now. It's impossible to resist him when he surrounds you like this, when he engulfs your perception so completely. You pull him closer on top of you in silent agreement. He knows your signs though, so it's all he needs.

His kisses grow rough on your neck, more set on leaving marks behind. The hand on your breast continues to toy with it while occasionally the fingers glide up to play with your nipple. It had pebbled up under your t-shirt, eager for his touch.

"You're gonna love it. Being so dependent, needing me all the time," he rasps, "And with a body like this, you were made for it."

His hands roam over your curves. They fondle and squish, intent on feeling every soft inch of you. Your clit pulses for him in anticipation of what's coming.

"And I'll be just as crazy for it, watching your body bend to my will, shaping up to carry our child," he whispers.

Another round of chills erupts across your skin. Both of you breathe heavier. You whine as his mouth migrates onto your collar bone, skimming the neckline of your top. Your chest heaves for him. Every part of you craves his attention.

Between your legs, your folds slicken with arousal, preparing for the inevitable. The throbbing from your delicate bundle of nerves only grows more intense, and you wish his fingers were down there providing you with some relief instead of lingering on your chest. Trying to get some friction on your own, you lift your hips to reciprocate him rubbing up against you, but he thwarts the efforts by pushing you back down and keeping you in place. He wants you where he wants you, you don't get to move and decide otherwise.

"Patience, doll," he tells you, "No need to rush."

Despite his words of delay however, his next move is to adjust your clothes into positions that leave you accessible to each other. He shoves his sweats down to mid thigh, allowing his heavy cock to spring free. The ache for you is practically visible to your eyes. It stands stiff with little beads of precum oozing from the tip. His fingers hook over the waistband of your bottoms and do the same to them, lowering them enough that he can get to the sweet spot between your legs.

He also tugs your shirt down, letting your tits spill over the neckline into his view. Ducking down, he latches onto a nipple while stroking himself. You hear the throaty groans echoing within him. Thoughts of your chest swelling up in the future dance through his head as you reach around to gently run your nails over the nape of his neck.

The schlick schlick schlick of his hand fisting his cock is audible from between the two of you. He bucks into his hand a few times before lining up and teasing your entrance with the tip.

"'kuna..." you whimper, lips forming into a pout. 

Part of it was impatience, part of it was nerves. Either way, he glances at you, lips curled into that sinister smile.

"Don't whine, brat. You know it never gets you what you want," he chides.

The words don't ring true though because seconds after saying them, he pushes the rest of his girthy shaft into your tight little hole. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the sounds pouring out of you. Your eyes roll back as a harsh breath leaves his lungs.

"That's it. No more complaining," he mutters.

He sinks all the way in, taking a moment to feel the tight warmth of you around him before pulling back and starting to pump in and out. Your hand stays clamped over your face as he grins down at you. No matter how many times the two of you fuck, he'll never grow tired of seeing your face when he first slips it in.

You gush around his cock as he thrusts. His movements are measured and small, but they still strike hard and raw. The heated skin of your ass bounces against his thighs every time he slams forward. Each motion pushes you harder against the couch.

Soft mewls leak out against your palm. It all feels so good. His body caging yours down. The swollen head of his cock nudging all the sweet spongy spots inside of you. Even the sight of him above you stokes the flames of lust burning in you. His muscles flex as he holds himself up and slides into you over and over.

"Squeezing me so much, doll. You want this bad, huh? Wanna make me a daddy?" he taunts.

You bite your lip under your hand and nod eagerly. Another needy moan seeps from you as his hand comes down and presses on your belly. The sensation makes your hips squirm. You tighten up more around him.

"So good for me, takin' it like this," he grunts, "Doing what you're meant to."

Your eyes flutter as you respond with another weak nod. Looking down, you catch the faint bulge that appears with every jolt of his pelvis. The sight is enough to spur you closer to the edge. You reach up for his shoulders, pulling a bit to get him closer.

He obliges your gesture and lowers himself on top of you, your bodies flush against each other now as he grinds himself deep inside of you.

"You're gonna look so fucking good, all rounded out for me. I'm gonna want you knocked up until you can't give me any more," he murmurs.

You feel his lashes flutter against your neck before his teeth sink into your neck. The bite isn't hard enough to draw blood or really hurt, just gives you a nice little sting. A small shock of pain to mix in with the pleasure.

"Fill me up, 'kuna. Wanna feel it take," you whisper, your voice breathy and broken up by whimpers.

"Oh it's gonna take," he grumbles.

He keeps rutting into you on the couch until he feels himself reaching that high. Like he usually does with you, he keeps his face against your neck when he cums. His groan vibrates against your sweaty skin while cum spurts into you from his tip. He moves in erratic beats, losing his sense of rhythm.

Your legs lock around his waist, and you keep him pressed close as can be as you reach your own peak. Rocking your hips upward, you meet his handful of final thrusts. You manage to stay quiet through it before finally sliding your hand off of your face. A full breath fills your lungs.

As you come down, you melt into the couch cushions below. He stays on top of you, catching his breath. His body rests there, boneless and limp. He doesn't pull out, just stays there for a few moments.

When he finally does detach himself, he lazily lifts himself up and slides back. He fixes his clothes and yours, looking down at you a bit softer than before. A softness he would never verbalize, of course.

Instead of talking, he flops over and squeezes in beside you on the couch, slotting himself between your side and the backing. He wraps an arm around your waist. His eyes casually land on the tv.

"Try not to move too much. We want it to take," he mumbles and nestles his face against your neck again.

[majestyeverlasting]

Hellooo, can I please request a Joel miller x reader oneshot where the reader had a really bad day at work and she’s calling him from the bathroom crying and he immediately rushes to pick her up? 🥰🩷

𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader 

Summary A disheartening setback at work leads you to call Joel, who always knows exactly what you need [fluff, 1.6k].

A/N Thank you so much for this request and your patience, anon! Really enjoyed writing this one.

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Hi, are you busy right now?

A heavy exhale is freed from your chest the moment you hit send. It’s quiet in the bathroom except for the rhythmic drip of the leaky sink faucet. Muffled voices arise from the hallway as people pass by, some preparing to commute home. Warm tears stream down your cheeks. 

No sooner does your phone vibrate to life, a picture of you and Joel at McKinney Falls filling the screen. There isn’t much time to compose yourself before you press the accept button with a shaky thumb. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Got done early today, we’re cleaning up the site,” Joel greets, wind in the background. Tommy’s voice emits from nearby as well, followed by rowdy, cackling laughter. “Hold on a second, lemme get someplace quiet.” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

There’s shuffling on his end of the line that eventually subsides. It’s still worth clinging to even though he’s miles away. 

“Sorry about that. Everything alright?” Concern dances around the edges of his words. You can tell he’s trying to keep them from being consumed. 

After Sarah moved out for college, he’d gotten better at accepting that every phone call he received from her didn’t automatically mean trouble. Most of the time, she simply wanted to catch up now that she lived two hours away. 

However, the opposite was true between you and Joel. Nowadays, you spend so much time together that there’s seldom a need to talk on the phone. The fact that you were calling him, from work, no less, meant something was up. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, but it doesn’t do much for the wavering of your voice when you finally speak up again, “Just wanted to hear your voice.” 

Your subsequent sniffle makes him grow still. You can see it through the phone. It’s in the way he doesn’t immediately respond, gears undoubtedly turning in his head. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” There’s a gentle, almost melodic quality to his voice that makes you wish you could lay your head on his chest and feel the rumble of his words. 

“Today’s just been a lot,” you tell him. “You know Alexander, the Bulletin’s editor?” He makes a small sound of affirmation. “It wasn’t his decision, but he pulled me aside to let me know my feature has been put on hold for further revision.” 

Relaying the news makes fresh tears well in your eyes. Over the past few weeks, Joel has watched you pour yourself into each stage of constructing the story to do the subjects justice—the meticulous research, heartfelt interviews, and late nights perfecting every draft. 

It was a labor of love, a piece that sought to illuminate the struggles of longtime Austin residents, artists, and small business owners navigating the challenges of gentrification and displacement. 

“Something about it being redundant.” Which, for all you knew, could be higher-up code for we don’t want this stepping on the toes of donors with deep pockets.  

“You’re kidding,” Joel grouses, disappointed for you. 

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “I wish I was,” you breathe. “Redundant, yet they’ve got room for age-old dieting tips and holiday gift guides every year,” you say, voice wavering. 

“I know, I hear you. I’m so sorry, baby,” he soothes, releasing a heavy sigh. “At least it hasn’t been canned entirely. That’s worth something.”  

He’s right, but it still feels like a slap in the face considering all the time invested. From you and everyone who shared their story. 

“It just sucks,” you sniffle. “I didn’t get enough sleep last night, and now I feel even worse.” A dull ache has settled in your temples. 

Shuffling arises on Joel’s end of the line again, and you remember that he’s still on site. 

“I’m sorry. You can go if you need to.” 

Instead, he comes back with, “Hang tight, okay? Gonna come get you.” 

When you bite your lip instead of responding, he keeps talking, “Should be there in twenty, give or take.” 

As appealing as it sounds to be whisked away, reality is quick to set in. 

“No, it’s fine, Joel. Tommy and the guys need you. I couldn’t ask you to do that.” 

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t good for it,” he replies. 

•••

Outside, you’re met with a relaxed breeze and the dwindling warmth of downtown, where the sun eases towards the horizon. A few tourists mill around, men and women in business casual stride by with messenger bags. At Joel’s truck, which is parallel parked across the street, he gets the door for you. An 80s station plays low on the radio, Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run faintly recognizable. 

You watch as he rounds to the driver’s side in that relaxed stride you love. He looks handsome despite his mused hair and the specks of dried paint on his shirt. When he climbs in, you’ve taken notice of the ice-cold raspberry tea in the cupholder closest to you. 

Along the way, he’d stopped and gotten it from the cafe you and Sarah frequented whenever she was visiting from school. You only went alone as an occasional treat, but he knew how much you liked it. 

A smile buds on his face when you pick it up and take a grateful sip. There’s a softness to his gaze that makes warmth bloom in your chest. With him, even the little things seemed to say, I see you. 

When you extend the cup his way in a silent offer, he waves you off. However, curiosity gets the better of him after he pulls off the curb. “Guess a sip won’t hurt.”

For the first time in what feels like hours, you smile when Joel hums at the flavor. For a moment, it doesn’t feel like the world is ending anymore. When he places his hand on your thigh, you intertwine your fingers with his, and he gives your hand a squeeze. 

A comfortable silence settles between you. It isn’t until you’ve left downtown that Joel speaks up again, voice measured and sure, “Your story will get out. Those guys know good journalism when they see it, and they’re gonna have to run it.” 

You glance over at him, your lower lip caught between your teeth as hope kindles in your chest.

“Hell, I’ll make my own publication if that’s what it takes. The Miller Times.” 

A chuckle bubbles out of you, but you could cry at the same time. For an entirely different reason this time. 

“I could get in trouble for going to a different publisher,” you remind him, running your thumb over the back of his hand as a small smile plays on your lips. “I’m on staff.”  

“I know, honey.” Joel squeezes your hand, a playful glint in his eyes. “Admit it, though. You thought about it for a second. The Miller Times has a nice ring to it.” 

He can see you fighting against your growing smile. “It’s alright.” 

“I’ll take that,” he concedes. Then, a greater air of sincerity settles over him. “What’s that one saying—setbacks are setups for something better.” 

You nod, gazing out the window as you turn into his neighborhood. 

“Don’t let this weigh you down.” 

You felt worlds lighter with him. 

•••

The warm spray of the shower feels so good against your skin that you remain under it even after the day’s troubles have washed away. Three months ago, you would’ve had to use Joel’s body wash, but your products and belongings had since made their way here. Some, he bought because he knew you’d be around, and others—namely, clothes—that migrated from your apartment. 

The word home has lost its shape in that regard. Not in a detached way of not belonging in any one place, but in that Joel’s house had begun to feel like just as much of a home as your cozy one-bedroom a few miles away. 

When you finally step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around yourself, you can see straight into the bedroom, where Joel is stretched across the bed. The sound of the shower door closing prompts him to sit up with a low grunt. You offer a shy smile upon meeting his gaze. 

“Promise I’m not creepin’ around,” he says, standing to his feet. “Just wanted to see if your headache was gone. Can bring up some Tylenol if you need it.” 

“It’s fine. I feel better now,” you assure. With a satisfied nod, he turns to leave with the intent of giving you space, but stops in his tracks when you speak up again, “You’re allowed to creep around if you want. I don’t mind.” 

Joel saunters into the bathroom doorway, propping an arm against the frame. The motion causes his bicep to strain against the sleeve of his shirt. Getting to see you like this, the intimacy of it all, always makes him feel grateful and warm. 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“You’re the boss,” you lilt.

With a low chuckle, Joel pushes out of the doorway and moves to stand behind you. You stare at your joint reflection as he rests his large hands on your hips, then leans down to press a delicate kiss to your bare shoulder. His frame is broad and rugged behind you, but his eyes are kind. 

When you rest your hands over his, he presses a second kiss to the crook of your neck. Then another just beneath your ear. His lips are so soft and warm against your damp skin that you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine and makes you press back into him. 

“I like you like this,” he whispers. “Relaxed…smiling.”

Now that you’re in his arms, it’s hard to imagine having stayed at the newsroom. With the meetings, chatty colleagues, and constant blue light. It’s quieter here with Joel. The world at large has disappeared while your smaller one keeps turning.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” you admit. 

But Joel did. He always did. 

-

Thank you so much for reading. Like, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all.

MORE

[dwaekkicidal]

The Easy Way vs The Hard Way

˚ʚBang Chan x fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: I was thinking about brat taming the other day and I came to the conclusion that Chris has 2 different ways to tame a brat. So I procrastinated on my fics + assignments and wrote this :)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: ~1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, largely based around Daddy kink, creampie (try to pee after sex pls <3), breeding mentions, Chris calls himself Daddy, 'good girl' used #2: kinda hard dom!chris, man handling, spanking

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: sorry not sorry that 'hard' is longer than 'easy' (are u surprised? have you SEEN my content?) and take this off of schedule because I hate letting things sit in my drafts for more than a day 😭 ALSO Sharing is Caring part 2 coming out later this week :3 (along with a Jisung request I got hehe <3)

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

I think he has 2 ways of taming brats depending on what his mood is. So here's a little scenario to picture so that I can explain what I mean!

After a long day for the both of you, you guys indulge each other in a nice hour or 2 of foreplay before he finally fucks you. After you both finish, Chris pulls away to watch his cum drip out of you and you wiggle your hips to tease him. He slaps your ass playfully in response and teases you back by saying something along the lines of “Unless you’re trying to get bred tonight, I suggest you stop shaking your ass at me like that baby.” “As if you would complain about that. For somebody who calls himself ‘Daddy’ and says he ‘DoEsN’t MeAn It LiKe ThAt’, you sure as hell are trying to become one.” He originally laughs, but once he processes that you mocked him he rolls his eyes at you, “Just have to be a little brat? Maybe I didn’t fuck you thoroughly enough.” You scoff, crossing your arms and turning to look at him, “You think you do that anyways?”

So. How does theee Bang Christopher Chan deal with this?

‘Easy’ Way; aka “kill them with kindness”

“You think you do that anyways?”

He simply narrows his eyes at you, placing his hands on his hips, “Yeah?”

You proudly respond with an “Mhm." and stick your chin up.

He chuckles, stepping towards you and raising his hand to rest against your cheek, softly caressing the skin there. “But baby, you were just the one begging me to fuck you. Surely if I ‘never’ fucked you thoroughly enough, you wouldn’t be on your knees begging for my dick to be in you?”

You frown and he laughs in response, not giving you a chance to speak up before he continues. His free hand trails down your stomach and stops at your cunt, where he ghosts his fingers along your folds. You whimper and chew on your bottom lip, looking away from him shyly.

"And... Where did my good girl go? Hm? My pretty baby who listens soo well.” His fingers tease your hole before you’re filled with two of them. “My sweet doll who would never let her Daddy down like this.” His fingers double their efforts and the hand on your cheek slides a thumb into your puffy lips. "The good girl who doesn’t disrespect her Daddy like this… Where is she at?” Your breath suddenly becomes hectic and he can tell you’re getting close.

Between the bittersweet words and the eager movements against your pussy, you slip into another mindset all too easily. He smiles when you finally look at him with glossy eyes and respond in a small voice, "'M right here..." He tilts his head at you expectantly and you squirm in his hold before repeating yourself louder. "I'm right here Daddy.."

"Oh, hi baby. Is my good girl back now?" You nod desperately in response, tightening your hands into fists against his chest as you grip around his fingers. "And is she ready to behave?"

"Yes, Daddy. 'M sorry.."

"Shhh, it’s okay baby. Now be good and cum on my fingers, kay?"

Hard’ Way; aka “fuck around and find out”

“You think you do that anyways?”

His eyebrows furrow and his tongue drags against the inside of his cheek. “Yeah? You’re really gonna do this right now? Right after I was nice enough to let you cum?” You gulp but stand your ground, making a scene to roll your eyes and lean back against the headboard.

He sits there silently, trying to give you another chance to come to your senses to realize that you’re butt ass naked in front of him and at his mercy. When you instead cock your head sideways with a bunch of attitude, he sighs loudly. His hands suddenly grips your ankles and drags you towards him. Then you’re flipped into your stomach and he renters you with no warning.

Your jaw drops and you moan loudly in surprise. His hands take turns slamming down against your ass cheeks over and over, seemingly getting harder with each slap. He sighs contently at the way you cling tightly around him with each smack, and he only stops once your cheeks are beet red and you’re trembling below him.

He hums to himself and taps the flesh, making it burn more and watching as you shake. "Such a pretty thing with such pretty reactions.. If only you were a good plaything and shut that pretty mouth for once."

He watches as your head snaps back towards him for a moment, the angry face and tears running down your face only make him smile at you. You feel his hips drag away from you, painfully slowly, until only the first centimeter or two of his tip are in you. You're taking a deep breath trying to regain your composure when a hand grabs a tight grip of your hair and pulls you backwards, his hips slamming forward at the same time.

A choke leaves you at the suddenness but he wastes no time, using the leverage in your hair to hold you in place as he fucks into you roughly. The aftermath of your previous orgasm sneaks up on you and you feel another one building up in no time. You melt into the sheets at the feeling, shaking as you almost tip over from one of the faster orgasms you've experienced, but Chris proves himself to be faster.

In an instant he's pulling out completely and holding you down preemptively for when you start thrash and whine. He waits until you stop kicking your feet at him, a tell tale sign that the tightness in your stomach finally faded, then he all of the sudden plunges back into you. The slide against your walls is rough, but you can’t deny how well it’s breaking down your resolution.

He uses the hand in your hair to tilt your head up at him when he leans forward to tower over you. It's very uncomfortable but it gives him the advantage as his narrowed eyes bore directly into you. He eventually changes positions, not wanting to actually hurt you like that, and he uses the new one to bring you to another orgasm. One that he, of course, ruins immediately with no hesitation.

This happens multiple times across the next 2 hours, to the point where you lost count of how many orgasms slipped away. It's not until you're sobbing beneath him and no longer kicking at him with each ruined orgasm, that he's flipping you onto your back and leaning down to kiss your tears away.

"Are you done now, love? You ready to be my good girl again?"

Your arms wrap around his neck and your lower lip trembles as you nod. He smiles, petting your hair and cooing at you before returning to his previous pace fucking you.

"There we go..."

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@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina