#Valentine's Day fluff

[freesia-writes]

Hi Free! I know I haven't been very active, but I saw your tag and thought I'd pop by and drop a Valentine's Day request 👉👈

Maybe a fluffy date night in with Echo? I'm not big on being out in the world on Valentine's, but I love any excuse to be sweet with my partner and spoil them.

For vibe, just some soft romance (I'll leave it to the muses if things get spicy)

I have no gender preference. I usually read GN or Fem because there's so much of it.

Heck yes. This felt so perfect. 🥹 Hope it's right up your alley! ❤️ Dividers by @stars-n-spice on this post here.

Echo x GN!Reader Word Count: 1000ish No content warnings

The soft glow of city lights filtered through the windows of your Coruscant apartment as you prepared for a cozy evening in with Echo. The air was filled with the comforting aroma of takeout food, and you couldn't help but smile as you set the table for dinner. Echo's presence always brought a sense of warmth and familiarity, and you were looking forward to spending Valentine's Day together. You were so glad that he had agreed to your idea of keeping it simple. No cooking, no preparations, no gifts, just the pure enjoyment of comfortable time together and some of your favorite food. When your doorbell rang, your heart skipped a beat as you straightened your shirt before answering.

"Hey there," you greeted him, your voice filled with warmth as you didn’t bother hiding your excitement. He wrapped you in a warm hug, smiling and brushing his fingers against your cheek for a moment before releasing you and following you into your apartment. "I hope you're hungry,” you continued. “I ordered our favorite takeout."

“Ehhhhxcellent,” he nodded, shuffling out of his jacket to reveal the most comfortable outfit you’d yet seen him wear -- worn jeans and a soft, long-sleeved henley. 

“Oh dannnng,” you poked, tracing a hand down the front of his shirt. “Look at you.”

“Stop it.” The blush across his cheeks made your heart swell in your chest, and you smiled playfully, beckoning him to make a plate and join you on the couch. 

“Want to watch the sequel to that cheesy crap we saw last time?” 

“Absolutely I do.”

Together, you and Echo settled onto the couch, plates of steaming food in hand as you started up a holofilm. The soft glow of the screen illuminated the room as you lost yourselves in the sappy romance, sharing laughs and stolen glances as the story unfolded. Little waggles of the eyebrows and snide remarks made it so much better, and as you finished your food and slowly entwined more and more with each other on the plush sofa, you couldn't imagine a more perfect evening.

"Do you actually remember the details of the first one?” Echo chuckled, gesturing toward the screen.

You grinned, a fond twinkle in your eyes. "How could I forget? You spent the entire time trying to predict the plot twists, and you were wrong every single time."

Echo's guffaw surprised you, the sound filling you with warmth. "Hey, I may not have gotten everything right, but I was close," he protested, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Close only counts in blaster shots and thermal detonators, love," you teased, nudging him gently with your elbow.

He chuckled, leaning back further into the couch cushions. "Fair point," he conceded, his voice filled with amusement. "But admit it, it made the whole thing far more entertaining."

You laughed, shaking your head at his antics. "Alright, yeah, it definitely did," you agreed, feeling a sense of warmth spreading at the easy banter between you.

After dinner and the holofilm, you made some mugs of hot chocolate, cradling them in your hands as you snuggled beneath a cozy blanket in front of the crackling fire in the gas fireplace beneath your screen. The warmth of the flames danced across Echo's features, casting shadows across his sharp features and metal additions.

"This is nice," Echo murmured, his voice soft and filled with contentment.

You nodded in agreement, a smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, it really is," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I think I’m a big part of what makes it so lovely,” he deadpanned, nodding somberly as you giggled in delight. You set your empty mug on the side table next to his, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him against you snugly. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, filling your nostrils with his familiar, musky scent. “And absolutely correct.”

As the fire crackled and popped, you sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the gentle hum of the city outside. In that moment, surrounded by warmth and the soft glow of the fire, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace wash over you. The night wore on, minutes ticking by as you shared aimless conversation and simply enjoyed being together. Eventually, the two of you made your way out onto the balcony, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you watched the bustling city below. The streets were alive with activity, speeders zipping by in a blur of light and sound. It was just chilly enough for you to slip back inside, grabbing the large, soft blanket from your couch and throwing it around yourself before venturing back out onto the balcony. 

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks for asking,” he quipped, but you dragged him against you and wrapped him up in the cozy cover as well, snuggling against his side as he snuck an arm across your shoulders. 

“You are fine,” you whispered against the side of his face, pressing an affectionate kiss to his cheek before lowering your nose to nuzzle into the curve of his neck. He tilted his head a little, unwilling to reveal his ticklishness but unable to resist a little shiver at the sensation of your breath along his skin. His scomp stroked up and down the outside of your arm, and he reached across with his other hand to tip your chin back up to his face. The depth in his pale brown eyes pierced you to the core, and the softness that coexisted along with all that he’d been through felt like a special treasure for you and you alone. 

“I’m really lucky to have you,” he confessed, a slight husk in his voice. You closed your eyes as he leaned in, kissing your forehead before pulling back to regard you again. His fingers traced along the edge of your jaw and came to rest in a gentle tuck behind your ear, thumb still brushing feather-light adoration across your cheek. Your gaze found his, two souls meeting in the quiet beauty of knowing and being known, and you pulled him ever closer, flattening yourself against his front as you kissed him deeply. 

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[jule1122]

Malex Fic - Light me up, I'm wasted in the dark

A short, very fluffy Valentine's Day. No angst at all, just Alex and Michael's first Valentine's Day.

BONUS: If you are looking for something longer, I wrote a Valentine's Day fic in 2021 featuring sunflowers, edible tattoos, and secret marriage. Fall back into place on AO3

Back to the new one:

Light me up, I'm wasted in the dark on AO3

Summary: Their first Valentine's Day as husbands is the first Valentine's Day they've ever spent together.

Title from "Rushmere" by Mumford and Sons

Michael frowns when he sees Alex’s car in the driveway.  Alex rarely gets home before him, and Michael was counting on the extra time to decide how to approach the night.  It was silly to be nervous about Valentine’ Day with his husband, but they had never been together for the holiday before.  Michael’s been debated between going all out and ignoring the day completely.  He thinks he found a nice middle ground, but he wasn’t planning on Alex being there when he got home.  He grabs a few items off his seat, and heads for the house.

“Honey, I’m home,” Michael calls when he walks in just to break some of his own tension.

“Michael,” Alex yells from the kitchen.  “Don’t come in here.”

“Are you alright?”  Michael asks, ignoring Alex’s warning and heading toward the kitchen.  

“Yeah, fine,”  Alex comes out to the living room, holding up a hand to stop Michael’s progress.  “I’m just not ready yet.  Two minutes, please.”

“Sure,” Michael agrees easily.  Alex is adorably flustered - face flushed and hair messy from running his hands through it.  He’s still in his work clothes, black jeans and a dark green button up, and Michael can’t wait to get his hands on him.

Alex walks back toward the kitchen, but then turns around and steps quickly toward Michael.  “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispers, kissing Michael quickly on the cheek.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Michael repeats, catching Alex’s hand and squeezing it lightly as he walks away.

Michael hangs his coat in the hallway, smiling softly to himself.  Seeing Alex a little uncertain helps him relax.  If they are both nervous, it means they both care, and he trusts they can figure it out together.  He wanders into the dining room, smile widening when he sees the table.  It’s covered with a tablecloth Michael didn’t even know they owned with a vase he thinks was a wedding present, sitting in the middle holding a single rose.

Michael adds the rose he bought for Alex to the vase, watching as they settle next to each other.  He sets Alex’s present on the table - a box of assorted dark chocolates he special ordered from some fair trade chocolatier Maria and Alex rave about.  No store box chocolates for his husband.  He wouldn’t want Alex to think he just grabbed something at the last minute.

It’s closer to ten minutes than two before Alex comes back out of the kitchen.  “Sorry,” he apologizes when he sees Michael.  “I got a little behind.”

“It’s fine,” Michael shakes his head.  He’s not surprised.  Alex is a good cook, but he’s terrible with timing, always needing close to twice as long as a recipe estimates.

Michael can tell the moment Alex notices the additions to the table.  He gently runs his fingers over the petals of the rose Michael added to the vase.  “Great minds?”

“It looked lonely,” Michael shrugs, closing the distance between them and coming to stand next to Alex.

Alex smiles and picks up the box of chocolates,  “Thanks for these, almost makes me regret picking up dessert.”

“Cake?”  Michael asks hopefully.  Alex doesn’t bake, and if he picked up dessert, it’s probably one of Rosa’s specialty cakes, which considering the demand, especially for Valentine’s Day, means Alex also planned ahead .

“You’ll see,” Alex teases. He opens the box and picks a chocolate at random, popping it in his mouth.  “So good,” he moans.  “Remind me to hide these when Maria comes over.  I won’t be sharing.”  Alex reluctantly sets the box of chocolates down.  “I have something for you too.  Wait here.”

Alex is gone and back from the bedroom before Micheal can complain about being asked to wait, again.  He returns holding something behind his back, shifting restlessly on his feet before handing it to Michael.  “Here.”

The gift Alex hands him is almost weightless, and Michael fumbles it briefly, expecting something heavier, instead his hands basically crush something soft and squishy.  Michael relaxes his grip and looks at what he’s holding.  It’s a teddy bear - fluffy, deep brown fur, bright glass eyes and a sweet smile.  It’s holding a red heart embroidered with the words “I Love You Beary Much.”

Michael blinks back unexpected tears, staring at the bear as if it might disappear.  Alex must have remembered the comment he’d made a few months ago, matter of factly - not a hint or bid for sympathy - about never having had a stuffed animal of his own growing up. “Alex,” he finally breathes out.

“I know it’s stupid,” Alex looks away from Michael.

“No,” Michael interrupts.  “Hey,” Michael shifts so he can catch Alex’s eye,  waiting for Alex to look back at him before continuing. He doesn’t ever want Alex to feel stupid for trying to make him happy, for loving him.   “It’s not stupid.  It’s perfect.”

“Yeah?”  Alex smiles cautiously.  

“Yeah,” Michael tucks the bear under his arm and takes Alex’s hand.  “I love you beary much too.”

Alex wrinkles his nose.  “Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late,” Michael laughs.  “I did promise to embarrass you for the rest of our lives, remember.”

“I was there, of course I remember.” Alex rolls his eyes, but whispers “I love you, too,” as he leans in for a kiss. Just as their lips meet, a timer goes off.

“Dinner?” Michael asks, pulling away slightly.

“Dinner,” Alex sighs, resting his forehead against Michael’s before straightening up.

Michael sets the bear on the table, carefully propping it up next to the vase, and follows Alex into the kitchen.  He shakes his head at the mess, but his stomach growls when Alex opens the oven and the scent of tomatoes and herbs fills the air.  “Smells good.”

“Thanks,” Alex sets the casserole on the oven and crowds Michael against the counter.  “Needs at least fifteen minutes to cool.”

“Really?” Michael raises his eyebrows.  He lets Alex kiss him once before he ducks under his arm and heads to the bedroom,  Alex laughing as he follows.  Looks like they got Valentine’s Day right after all.

[indigofyrebird]

Another chapter of Hunter and Terese! Featuring Crosshair helping Hunter make chocolate covered heartberries.

This chapter inspired a little by the amazing fic "Beginners" by @jamiewritesstuff

[rose-riot-johnson]

Roseee can I get a fanfic of Hitoshi and Y/N at a cat cafe for Valentine's Day or a Coffee shop date? Your choice!xx

Okay Aevyn I can definitely write this type of fanfic of Hitoshi Shinsou💘💌😃👍So with the "cat cafe for Valentine's Day or coffee shop date", I think I might surprise you about that part since you have given me in idea on how to shake things up with sone fanfic ideas you have given me with your request Aevyn💌💘💡😁👍

😺💜☕Shinsou's Big Valentine's Day Surprise For You☕💜😺((Adult) Hitoshi Shinsou x They/Them Reader)

Genres: Fluff (Those who enjoy Valentine's Day then the other genre is Valentine's Day fluff) (Warning ⚠️: The Possible Trigger Warning is the mentioning of Valentine's Day)

On Valentine's Day, Hitoshi Shinsou decides to take you out on a Valentine's date considering, you and your boyfriend Hitoshi Shinsou haven't been able to spend as much time together, as of late, aside from working together, as pro heroes, so he figured Valentine's Day would be the perfect day to surprise you by picking out a different place that neither of you ever been to before. "Hey, Shinsou... Babe... Where are you taking me, for lunch?", you asked while the both of you walked together, as you and Shinsou were holding hands together. He answered, "Well, (Y/N)"... It's a surprise... I just guarantee you will love this new place, I'm taking you to...".

Once the both of you made it to the new place that Shinsou planned on taking you to, as a surprise for Valentine's Day lunch, you have noticed something very different and cool about this new place he wanted to take you to. There were a bunch of workers in cat costumes, as if the cat costumes were work unforms. Then you have noticed that the place is also pet friendly, especially cat friendly, so you could bring cats there. You then noticed the sign of the name of the place, as the name of the place is called, "Kitty Cat Coffee Shop Cafe".

That was then you began to realize this place Shinsou took you for Valentine's Day lunch was definitely both a coffee shop and cafe combo, with a bunch of workers in cat uniforms, which is also a place that's pet friendly, especially cat friendly, so you can visit the cats that the workers take with them, visit the cat that the other customers take with them, and you could even bring your own cat with you to that particular coffee shop cafe combo. It was impossible for you to contain your excitement, and what made you more excited was Shinsou cooed, "Surprise, (Y/N)... I knew you would like it... And Happy Valentine's Day, my sweetie...", as he then hugged you from behind, proceeding to give you forehead kisses, before he continued, "Now let's order some coffee, or tea, or maybe hot cocoa, or anything you wanna order, my kitten...".

You and Shinsou ordered not only some beverages, including coffee and (boba tea, regular tea, or hot cocoa), the both of you order some food, as you relized the food you had ordered there is definitely your most favorite food to eat. After both you and Shinsou finished eating, you and Shinsou visit some of the kitties that the workers brought with them. The cats that the workers bought with them turned out to be the nicest cats that had ever roamed in the history of every universe there is.

Your date with Hitoshi Shinsou at the "Kitty Cat Coffee Shop Cafe" was definitely more than you could ever dream of or even ever imagined, to the point where it's not just the best Valentine's Day ever, however that whole day was definitely the best day you had ever had in your life, so far. And Shinsou definitely feel the same way about his day with you at the "Kitty Cat Coffee Shop Cafe". If the both of you had your way, you and Shinsou both would stay here forever and never leave there for a second. Th food, the beverages (especially the coffee), the employees who were in cat uniforms, the nicest cats ever, and everything else you can think of with this place, were definitely wonderful and like a dream come true. You were so happy Shinsou took you there on Valentine's Day and he's happy that he took you there on Valentine's Day, as well.

☕😺The💜End😺☕

I hope you enjoyed this Hitoshi Shinsou fanfic my Tumblr Peeps😁👍As for you @hitoshisbf , I hope you liked the surprise I did with your request☕💜😺👍I decided with the request "why not write both the "cat cafe for Valentine's Day" and the"coffee shop date" and mix both for the fanfic☕😺💜👍I think with option part of your request definitely helped me with the idea of writing both of the ideas down for this Shinsou fanfic💡😺💜☕😁👍As for the purple heart emoji (💜) between "The" and "End", I wanted to use the coffee emoji (☕), is cat emoji, and the heart emoji, however I decided to fet creative with this fanfic and write the end like I did this way (☕😺The💜End😺☕), so unlike the other fanfics I had written, I have put an emoji between "The" and "End" for this particular fanfic☕💜😺💡💌💘😁👍

[toughpaperround]

'The World has got a Glow'

BBC Ghosts podfic

My final podfic of this lovely BBC Ghosts series, 'Wherever You Find Love', bringing the total series listening time to 3 hours.

Written by Sir_Bedevere | @breadcrumbsandstars

Rated T, listening time 21 minutes.

Summary:

Pat said, “I used to love Valentine’s Day. It’s daft, I know, but I always got Carol a dozen red roses. Nice steaks for tea. Bit of dancing. Bit of a cuddle after.”

“You could have done that any day, Pat,” Julian said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, I know. It was just nice, you know, to have something to look forwards to. An evening just the two of you, special like.”

The Captain has never had much use for Saint Valentine's Day. This year might be different.

[part one] [part two] [part three]

[burningaurora]

[Podfic - TTS] Beautiful, beloved by @imagineacoolusername

Cover Art By: @thelastkingalive

One-Shot | Length: 24:50 | Rating: G

Remus receives an anonymous love letter on valentine's day, and decides to find out who sent it to him

Listen on: AO3 | Streaming

I was able to squeeze a small Valentine's Day TTS Podfic in on my last day of vacation!!! Did I cut it right down to the wire? Yes. Was it worth spending a few hours of my vacation programming? Also Yes. Extra special thanks to both @imagineacoolusername and @thelastkingalive for the quick responses to my very last minute requests to use their work today 🥰

[sorcerystudios-writing]

A Country Holiday

by Nakira Taisho

Date Posted: (2025-02-28)

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Trolls (DreamWorks Movies)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Branch/Poppy (Trolls)

Characters: Poppy (Trolls), Branch (Trolls), Delta Dawn (Trolls), Original Troll Character(s) (Trolls DreamWorks Movies)

Additional Tags: genre swap, Folk!Poppy, Country!Branch, Valentine's Day Fluff, Alternate Universe

Series: Part 9 of Trolls Tales

Summary: Poppy and Branch share their first Lover's Day as a couple.

[dreadcubic]

Lavellan left without Solas thinking that she could explore the Temple of Sylaise in no time and make it back to Skyhold before she missed her vhenan too much. Creators, was she wrong. After weeks away, she manages to find him in the Fade, enjoying a softer moment together before she had to go back to the horrors of the world outside.

 Self indulgent hair braiding fluff because it's almost Valentine's day so why the fuck not? Lol Hope y’all enjoy! :D

[danimason2019]

How I Found the Love of my Life Holiday Special- Valentines Day 2024

Sorry that it is so late!

[jincapableoflove]

A Jar Full of Us | one-shot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: best friend! jungkook, best friend! reader, college! au, unrequited love (?), idiots to lovers, best friends to ??? to lovers, angst, fluff, implied smut.

Summary: You never meant for him to find them. Hundred little confessions, folded away, never meant to be read. But now, they’re in his hands. And Jungkook—your best friend—knows everything. But he doesn’t say a word. He just watches you, with that same unreadable expression, like he’s waiting for something. And this Valentine’s Day, you might just have to find out what.

Inspired by: To All the Boys I've Loved Before

Word count: 10.2K+

Warnings: arguments, jungkook is a jerk, misunderstandings (a lottt of it), angstttt, reader and jk are huge idiots, mutual pining, implied smut (its not too detailed so that the story maintains the emotional connectivity), romantic intimacy, tooth-rotting fluff.

MOODBOARD

A/N: HERE IT ISSS! this is the longest fic ive written! tysm for all the support yall have given me in the teaser of this fic. i put out a taglist thinking no one would actually want to be a part of it but so many of yall asked to be tagged 😭 im so grateful! tysm i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writng it. lmk ur thoughts abt it after u read too <3 ALSO HAPPY VALENTINES DAYYY (someone date me pls)

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the dorm, kicking off your shoes with a tired sigh. The evening air still clings to your skin, carrying traces of laughter and the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence.

It had been another perfect night—one filled with inside jokes, stolen bites of each other’s food, and his usual exasperated attempts to get you to study.

Joy, your roommate, is nowhere in sight, giving you the solitude you need. You don’t hesitate. Your steps are purposeful as you cross the room, crouching down beside your bed. With practiced ease, you reach under the frame, fingers brushing against the familiar surface of a small pink, heart-shaped box. You pull it out carefully, as if it were a fragile secret, and place it on your lap.

A soft breath escapes you as you grab a nearby pen and a book, neatly tearing out a tiny slip of paper. The motion is second nature now. Without even thinking, you let your emotions spill onto the paper, crafting a fleeting moment into something permanent.

Tonight’s memory is simple, but it still tugs at your heart. Jungkook had sent you another blurry picture of the moon, captioned with a casual, “Looks kinda pretty, right?” He knew how much you loved the moon—how it fascinated you in a way you could never quite put into words. And he had remembered. Of course, he had remembered.

A fond smile tugs at your lips as you write:

Jungkook remembers the little things.

Once the ink dries, you fold the note with care and add it to the collection. The box is almost full now, brimming with countless tiny confessions—whispers of feelings you’ve never had the courage to say aloud. A hundred little moments, a hundred little thoughts, all dedicated to the boy who had unknowingly stolen your heart.

Jungkook.

Jungkook, your best friend, who always saves you the last bite of his food, even when it’s his favorite. Jungkook, who sends you blurry pictures of the moon just because he knows you love them. Jungkook, who insists on studying with you, despite his major being entirely different from yours, just so he can make sure you actually open a book instead of procrastinating.

This little tradition of yours had started as a joke. One night, after an especially soft moment where Jungkook had wordlessly placed his hoodie over your head because you were shivering, you had scribbled on a piece of paper: Jungkook is warmer than the sun.

You had smiled to yourself as you rolled up the paper and dropped it into the box. It had felt oddly nice—preserving that moment, capturing the feeling of it in something tangible. So you did it again. And again. And again.

Until, one day, you realized you had written over a hundred of them.

You hadn’t meant to fall in love. And you certainly hadn’t planned to confess.

But each tiny slip of paper holds a truth your heart refuses to say aloud.

And you're going to keep it a secret forever.

You met Jungkook almost three years ago, during freshman year. The first time you met him, he had been infuriatingly kind.

You had been struggling under the weight of a precariously tall stack of books, barely able to see over them, when suddenly, a few disappeared from the top. Startled, you looked up to see Jungkook grinning at you, effortlessly holding the books you had nearly dropped.

"You looked like you were about to tip over," he teased, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement.

With a playful huff, you had responded, "Maybe I wanted it to tip over."

Jungkook had only laughed, shaking his head. "I'll catch you next time," he had promised.

That night, you had written a tiny note and slipped it into your box: He wants to catch me when I fall, even without me asking.

From that moment on, your friendship grew in ways you hadn’t even noticed at first. Midnight walks and late-night study sessions became routine, pulling you closer together with every shared moment. What had started as swapping notes for the one class you had together turned into sharing secrets. Somewhere along the way, before you even realized it, Jungkook had become your favorite person.

The box was almost full now.

You had written so many things over the years, each note capturing a small piece of him, a fragment of your feelings. Some were simple observations:

Jungkook frowns when he eats something delicious.

His hair is always a mess in the mornings. He hates it, but I love it.

His eyes smile before his lips do.

But one night, you had written something different. Something deeper. Something that felt like the truest thing you had ever put to paper.

I love him.

The moment the ink dried, panic had set in. You had almost torn it up, almost removed it from the box as if keeping it there would somehow make it real. But in the end, you had left it. Because the box was safe. No one was going to see it.

Especially not Jungkook.

One afternoon, you came back from your classes, ready to relax and unwind before the stress of exams fully set in. You had been looking forward to a quiet evening, maybe even a movie marathon with Jungkook to take your mind off things for a while.

But the moment you stepped into your dorm, you felt something was off.

Joy was sitting on the couch, sipping her coffee, her expression smug—too smug. A knowing smirk curled at the corners of her lips as she watched you walk in, and instantly, your stomach twisted with unease.

You narrowed your eyes. "What did you do?"

"I did you a favor," she said casually, taking another slow sip of her coffee.

A cold shiver ran down your spine. "What favor?" you asked, dread creeping into your voice.

Joy grinned. "I found that little cute box of yours."

Your heart stopped. "What?"

"Don't look at me like that," she waved a hand dismissively, as if what she was about to say wasn’t about to shatter your entire world. "It was just sitting there collecting dust, and I thought—what a perfect Valentine's Day gift for Jungkook. So…I wrapped it up and dropped it off at his place."

Silence.

A deafening, all-consuming silence as her words echoed in your head.

"You WHAT?!"

Your entire body froze in place, your breath catching in your throat as horror washed over you in waves. Your chest felt tight, your pulse roaring in your ears.

Joy merely raised an eyebrow, seemingly unbothered by the sheer panic on your face. "You're welcome," she said cheekily—before promptly sprinting out of the room for her life.

But you couldn’t chase after her. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the ringing in your ears.

No. No. No.

This couldn't be happening.

Still desperate to deny the possibility, you dropped to your knees and scrambled to check under your bed, your hands shaking as you reached into the familiar space where you had hidden the box for years.

Empty.

It was gone.

The tiny wooden box that held a hundred little moments, a hundred little secrets—your secrets—was gone.

And now it was in Jungkook's hands.

Of all people…Jungkook.

Jungkook lived in an apartment a little further away from your dorm. The second the realization hit, you bolted out the door without a second thought, heart pounding so hard it nearly drowned out the sound of your footsteps against the pavement.

Your plan was simple—get to his apartment before he did. You knew his habits well enough to guess that he was probably grabbing a late lunch at that fast-food place near campus. If luck was on your side, you still had time.

He hadn’t seen it yet.

He couldn’t have seen it yet.

As you ran, your mind spiraled into chaos, bombarding you with every possible scenario—each one worse than the last.

What if he had already opened it?

What if he read through every single note?

What if he found the one that said I love him?

Your stomach twisted painfully at the thought.

Jungkook was your best friend.

He was your person.

And now, he might know that you wanted to be more than just friends.

The mere thought made your chest tighten as memories of the two of you flashed through your mind. The times you spent together at the arcade, the countless movie nights, the time you and Jungkook had crashed Jimin’s birthday party with a ridiculous amount of booze.

And then…there was that moment.

The moment you almost confessed.

"I wish I could find someone who truly understood me," he had said one night, his voice softer than usual, lost in thought.

And you had almost said it. The words had been on the tip of your tongue, so painfully close—"I do."

But you swallowed them down.

Because what if he didn’t feel the same way? What if saying those words ruined everything?

And now, thanks to Joy, you didn’t have a choice anymore. The truth was out there, sitting in a neatly wrapped box in Jungkook’s apartment.

The thought of his reaction sent your mind into overdrive.

Would he laugh?

Would he think it was weird?

Would he—

Would he reject you?

No. No. No.

You shook your head violently as you rounded the corner, lungs burning from the sprint. You’re going to get there before he does. You’re going to take the box back, and he’s never going to know about it.

That was the plan.

It had to work.

As soon as you reached Jungkook’s apartment building, you barely paused to catch your breath. Your legs ached from running, but panic kept you moving. You made a beeline for the mailbox section in the lobby, frantically scanning the names, searching for his.

Box 109.

You yanked it open.

Empty.

Your stomach sank.

Maybe his roommate took it upstairs? Yeah. That had to be it. Maybe it was sitting untouched on the kitchen counter, still wrapped, still safe, still unseen.

You latched onto that sliver of hope as you rushed up the stairs two at a time, unwilling to wait for the elevator. By the time you reached his floor, your hands were shaking. You raised a fist and knocked on the door, urgency making your knuckles sting.

No response.

You knocked again, harder this time.

Then—finally—you heard shuffling from inside. A few footsteps. The creak of the floorboards. A pause.

The door swung open.

And there he was.

Jungkook.

Standing right in front of you, framed in the dim light of his apartment, wearing an oversized grey hoodie that draped over his frame in a way that shouldn't have been so unfairly attractive. His dark hair was slightly damp, messy from a shower, strands falling into his eyes. His lips were parted in surprise, his brows slightly furrowed, and the expression on his face—confused yet soft, dangerously soft—made your already erratic heartbeat lurch violently.

But then, your gaze dropped to his hands.

And the world stopped.

The box.

The open box.

Your box.

Your secret, sacred collection of unsent confessions, of words meant only for the safety of your own solitude. The pieces of your heart you had never dared to show him.

You felt like you were going to be sick.

No, no, no, no—

"You—" You gasped, barely able to form words, chest rising and falling rapidly as you fought for air. "You opened it?"

Jungkook blinked, holding the box loosely in one hand, fingers curled around the edges as if he had been going through its contents just moments ago. He tilted his head, his expression unreadable.

"Yeah," he said simply, as if the weight of the universe hadn’t just come crashing down on you.

Oh. Oh no.

Your legs wobbled. You had to physically stop yourself from collapsing right there in front of him.

His gaze flickered downward, and you followed it instinctively. In his other hand, he held one of the notes. One of your notes. The handwriting was unmistakably yours, a little smudged, a little rushed, but still legible.

He cleared his throat, then read aloud.

"I don’t know when it happened. But one day, he became my favorite person."

Silence.

It stretched on for what felt like an eternity.

You thought you might actually pass out.

"Jungkook, I—" Your voice cracked, but before you could even attempt to explain, he looked up and met your eyes.

And then, to your absolute horror—

He smiled.

Not a teasing smirk, not an awkward grimace, but a real, genuine, knowing smile. A little shy, a little amused, as if the weight of what he had just discovered didn’t terrify him nearly as much as it did you.

And then—oh god—he spoke again.

"So… do you still think my hair looks best when it’s messy?"

Your breath hitched.

Your brain went blank.

You wanted to scream.

The change was almost instant.

In the days that followed, Jungkook became… different.

Not in the way you had imagined, though.

You had been bracing yourself for a talk—a conversation where he’d tell you gently, maybe even apologetically, that he didn’t feel the same way. Or, at the very least, a moment of awkwardness before things slowly went back to normal.

But instead, Jungkook just… pulled away.

It started subtly at first. He stopped texting as much. The late-night calls that once lasted for hours dwindled into one-word replies and seen messages. The casual lunch meetups, the spontaneous arcade runs, the easy, natural way he used to gravitate towards you in a crowded room—all of it changed.

And yet, despite the distance, he never fully let you go.

Instead, he turned it into a joke.

Like today, when he leaned in—far too close for comfort—during your shared class. His voice was low, teasing, the warmth of his breath fanning against your ear.

"So, I’m warmer than the sun, huh?"

You stiffened instantly, your hands tightening around your pen. He pulled back with a smirk, his dark eyes glittering with mischief as he watched your reaction unfold in real-time.

It was unbearable.

He kept doing it.

Whenever you tried to talk to him—really talk to him—he would either dodge the conversation entirely or turn it into something lighthearted, something unserious.

Like the time you finally found him alone, determined to just get it over with, to ask what had changed between you two. Before you could even get the words out, he cut you off with another one of those smirks, his voice laced with amusement.

"So I look best in black? Good to know."

And then he walked away.

That was when you finally got the message.

Jungkook had taken it as a joke.

He didn’t care about your feelings.

It was like the caring, affectionate boy you had known for years had vanished the moment your heart had been laid bare. Like now that the truth was out in the open, he didn’t know how to handle it—so he chose to mock it instead.

And worst of all?

He was pulling away from you completely.

The time you used to spend together? Gone. He was hanging out with other people now, filling his days with anyone but you. And when you did manage to cross paths, he only acknowledged you through those insufferable little comments, those cruel reminders of the things you had never meant for him to see.

It hurt. More than you wanted to admit.

Because maybe—just maybe—you had hoped that if he knew how you felt…

He wouldn’t push you away like this.

The next week brought the on-campus career fair—an event mandatory for all students. You weren’t particularly excited about it, but at least it was a distraction, something to keep your mind occupied.

Or so you thought.

Because that’s when you saw him.

And he wasn’t alone.

He was walking around with Hana, a junior from your college. They moved easily through the crowd, side by side, completely immersed in conversation. And then, to make things even worse—he laughed.

A real laugh. The kind that made his nose scrunch up and his eyes crinkle, the kind you hadn’t heard in what felt like forever.

Your stomach twisted.

You weren’t expecting him to make it this obvious.

If he wanted to reject you, fine. If he didn’t feel the same way, you could live with that. But did he really have to parade it around like this?

Maybe this was his way of sending a message. Maybe he wanted you to know, without actually having to say it out loud.

A silent rejection.

What a jerk.

These days, you barely have the motivation to attend classes. You go through the motions—waking up, dragging yourself to campus, sitting through lectures—but your mind isn’t really there.

Because no matter how hard you try to distract yourself, the brutal reality of rejection lingers like a shadow, following you everywhere you go.

Jungkook threw away your feelings like they meant nothing.

You should have expected it, right? You should have known this was how it would turn out.

Maybe you were never meant to be anything more than a friend to him. Maybe, the moment he realized you held deeper feelings for him, he got scared. Or worse—maybe he just didn’t care at all.

The thought makes your chest ache.

Jungkook has always been a romantic at heart. You’ve seen it in the way he talks about love, in the way he watches romance movies with a dreamy look in his eyes. But clearly, you were never part of that dream.

And now, because of your stupid feelings, you’ve ruined everything.

You used to be his best friend. The one he joked around with, the one he trusted, the one he leaned on.

But now?

Now he barely looks at you.

And if he does, it's only to throw some teasing remark your way—like your feelings were some kind of joke.

The person you were most angry at was Joy.

Not Jungkook. Not yourself.

Joy.

Because none of this would have happened if she had just left that damn box alone.

That day after the box incident, the moment you stepped back into your dorm, she was there, lounging on the couch like nothing had happened. She glanced up as you walked in, a smirk already forming on her lips.

“I didn’t expect you to come back so early. I thought you guys would—” she wiggled her eyebrows—“get freaky after the whole confession, you know?”

She laughed, expecting you to groan or throw a pillow at her like usual.

But then she saw your face.

Her laughter faded. “Wait… what happened?”

You didn’t answer. You just walked past her and sank into the couch, staring at nothing, your mind still replaying every moment from earlier—Jungkook’s teasing, his smirk, his distance.

You heard Joy shuffle closer, her voice softer now. “I… I’m sorry. Did I send the gift too early? Did Jungkook not like it?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Oh, no, he loved it.” You turned to her, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you so much for your help, Joy.”

Her expression faltered. “Wait… what do you mean?”

You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “Jungkook probably thinks I’m pathetic now.”

Joy winced. She sat beside you on the couch, guilt written all over her face. “I— I really thought—” she hesitated, chewing on her lip. “I was so sure, though. That boy always had heart eyes for you.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Well, now you know he didn’t.”

Silence settled between you both.

And for the first time, Joy didn’t have anything to say.

The next time you see Jungkook, he’s with Hana again.

They’re standing by one of the campus notice boards, deep in conversation. You don’t mean to eavesdrop—you’re not even sure why you stop—but the moment you hear them talking, something in your gut tells you to listen.

Hana tilts her head, her voice low but clear. “Are you sure she won't find out?”

Jungkook sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know… Maybe it's better this way”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Your first instinct is denial—maybe they’re not talking about you. Maybe it’s about someone else entirely. But deep down, you know.

As far as you’re aware, there isn’t another she in Jungkook’s life. Not before. Not when you were still close.

You’ve already been replaced.

Your chest aches as you piece it together. He doesn't want you to find out—because he's probably in a relationship with Hana now. Because he doesn’t want to hurt you with a direct rejection, he thinks hiding his relationship with her is the kinder option.

It isn’t.

You swallow the lump in your throat and force yourself to step back, turning away from the scene before you can hear any more.

You decide then—no matter how much it hurts, no matter how pathetic it makes you feel—you can’t bear being apart from Jungkook.

Even if he doesn’t love you back.

Even if he only sees you as a friend.

Losing him completely? That’s not something you’re ready for. Maybe you never will be.

So, you do the only thing you can think of.

You wait for him after class.

Your heart pounds against your ribs as you watch the door, your hands clammy with nerves. When Jungkook finally steps out, your breath catches. He looks the same—same hoodie, same soft brown eyes—but everything feels different now.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward.

"I get it, okay?" you say, voice firm despite the way your throat tightens. "You don’t like me. And that’s fine. I hope she makes you happy."

Jungkook halts mid-step.

His jaw clenches. His fists curl at his sides.

"You don’t understand," he mutters.

"Then make me understand, Jungkook," you plead. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to keep going, even as your last shred of dignity slips through your fingers. "Can we still be friends, at least?"

Silence.

Jungkook doesn’t reply.

And somehow, that hurts more than rejection ever could.

There's a party happening, hosted by one of the biggest party animals on campus. Everyone is invited, and Joy insists that you go.

After much convincing, you finally give in. You've mended things with her—finally forgiven her. Maybe it wasn’t entirely her fault. Maybe you just needed someone to blame.

You decide to go, hoping for a distraction. Maybe the music, the drinks, and the endless chatter will help you forget, even if just for a night.

But you already know Jungkook will be there.

Probably Hana too.

And that's fine.

You'll just stay out of their way.

The party is in full swing when you arrive—loud music, flashing lights, bodies moving wildly on the dance floor, and the unmistakable smell of booze in the air. Bottles are being passed around, and the energy is electric.

A few friends from your classes spot you and pull you in, offering drinks. You take them all without hesitation, reaching for the strongest ones, letting the alcohol burn away the ache in your chest.

Jungkook is nowhere in sight.

Good. Maybe he didn’t come. Maybe you can actually enjoy yourself tonight.

With the alcohol settling in, your limbs feel lighter, your mind a little hazy. You dance to the outdated playlist blaring through the speakers, laugh with strangers, and let yourself let go—just for a while.

But after some time, it all feels like too much. The heat, the noise, the overwhelming buzz in your veins. You slip away from the crowd and make your way to the rooftop, breathing in the crisp night air, letting it cool your flushed skin.

And then you sense it—someone else's presence.

You turn, your head spinning slightly, and there he is.

Jungkook.

You blink, wondering if you're imagining him, but his gaze is fixed on you, a slight furrow between his brows. There's something like concern in his expression as he watches you, taking in your drunken state.

Your heart stumbles in your chest.

The alcohol makes everything feel lighter—your body, your thoughts, your inhibitions. So when you see Jungkook standing there, looking at you with that unreadable expression, the words just spill out before you can stop them.

“I liked you, you know,” you mumble, swaying slightly. “But now I realize… I was just wasting my time.”

Jungkook doesn’t react. No apology, no denial, not even a flicker of emotion across his face.

He just exhales softly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’ll be fine,” he says simply, then turns on his heel and walks away.

Just like that.

The cool night air suddenly feels suffocating, the weight in your chest heavier than ever. You watch his retreating figure, your heart shattering all over again.

The next morning, you wake up with the nastiest headache ever. Your head throbs, your mouth is dry, and your body feels like it’s been wrung out. You groan, forcing yourself to sit up as the hazy memories from last night slowly piece themselves together.

Jungkook. The rooftop. The way he just… walked away like he didn’t care.

You shake the thought from your mind, dragging yourself out of bed. There’s no point dwelling on it. Your exams are approaching, and you need to focus.

Deciding to get some studying done, you head to the library. The quiet atmosphere should help clear your head—or at least distract you from the mess that is your life.

But the moment you step inside, your breath catches.

Jungkook is sitting at the table you both used to frequent, completely absorbed in scribbling something into a notebook. For a second, you consider turning around, but then something catches your eye.

He rips out a small piece of paper, folds it neatly, and—without hesitation—slips it into a glass jar sitting beside him.

Your heart clenches.

Is it for Hana?

You don’t stick around to find out. Before Jungkook can notice you, you turn on your heel and walk away.

February 10th. Your birthday.

You wake up with a small flicker of hope. Maybe today would be different. Maybe Jungkook had been ignoring you all this time because he was planning something—some kind of surprise. That had to be it, right?

Surely.

So you wait.

By 3 PM, your phone is filled with messages—friends, family, even distant relatives reaching out to wish you. Everyone but Jungkook.

Not even a single text.

The hope that had carried you through the day starts to crumble, replaced by a hollow ache in your chest. You don’t go to class. What’s the point? This might just be the worst birthday ever.

That’s when Joy bursts into your room with a grin.

"You got a package!" she announces, holding out a neatly wrapped box.

Your heart leaps.

Jungkook?

You rush over, fingers fumbling as you tear open the wrapping—only for your stomach to drop.

It’s from your parents.

Disappointment washes over you, but you push it aside. They went through the trouble of sending you something, and you should be grateful. You take a deep breath, forcing a smile as you pick up your phone and call them.

"Thank you," you say, voice steady. Because at least someone remembered.

There was still time.

It was only evening—plenty of hours left before midnight. Jungkook would surely text before then. He had to.

Joy, noticing your gloomy mood, tries to lift your spirits. "Come on, let’s go out drinking. Have some fun, at least for your birthday."

But you shake your head. "I’m not in the mood."

She sighs, clearly frustrated but doesn’t push you. Instead, she flops onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. "I hate this," she mutters. "I hate seeing you like this. And I hate him for treating you this way."

Her voice is laced with anger, but there’s something else there too—guilt.

Because deep down, Joy still blames herself.

If she hadn’t sent that gift early, if she hadn’t tried to play cupid, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way. Maybe you wouldn’t be spending your birthday like this—waiting for a boy who might never come around.

Jungkook didn’t text that day.

He forgot your birthday.

You waited all day, checking your phone every few minutes, hoping for a message that never came. Midnight passed, and still—nothing.

The realization settles deep in your chest, heavier than you expected. You feel pathetic.

Pathetic for hoping. Pathetic for waiting. Pathetic for still caring.

It’s the day before Valentine’s Day.

You can’t afford to miss any more classes. You haven’t stepped foot on campus since your birthday, but today, you decide to go.

You have no motivation to see or talk to anyone. You tell yourself that you’ll just quietly attend your classes and head straight back home. No distractions. No unnecessary interactions.

But as soon as you reach campus, you notice a crowd gathering. There’s some kind of matchmaking event happening for Valentine’s Day tomorrow.

Great. Just great.

Everything about it feels like the universe is mocking you, rubbing salt on an already raw wound. Heart-shaped decorations, pink confetti floating in the air, and couples laughing—completely oblivious to how suffocating it feels for you.

You try to move past the crowd, but suddenly, someone pushes forward, and you get caught in the chaos. You stumble, losing your balance—bracing for impact—

But you don’t hit the ground.

Because Jungkook catches you.

His hands grip your arms, steadying you out of instinct. His touch is firm and warm, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache.

For the first time in days, you look up at him. And for the first time in days, he looks right back at you.

He doesn’t let go of you immediately.

His grip stays firm, his fingers pressing into your arms like he’s grounding himself, like he’s hesitating. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his lips parting slightly—like he’s about to say something.

The music playing in the background fades into a distant hum. Everything around you slows. The laughter, the chatter, the festival lights—it all blurs.

All that’s left is him.

Still holding you.

Your voice barely comes out, a whisper against the space between you.

“Do you even care, Jungkook?”

His hands tighten for a fraction of a second. His jaw clenches. And for a brief, fleeting moment, you think you see something—something raw and unspoken flash through his eyes.

But then, like a switch flipping, he lets go.

So fast that you nearly stumble again.

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words cut through the air, sharp and merciless.

Then he turns. Walks away.

And you’re left standing there, alone in the middle of a festival meant for love.

This is it.

This is your answer.

Jungkook has made his choice.

And now, it’s time for you to make yours.

You have to move on.

That night, you decide—Jungkook was never meant to be yours.

It’s a painful truth, one you’ve been avoiding, but tonight, you accept it.

Needing a distraction, you start clearing out your closet, pulling out old clothes, forgotten trinkets, anything to keep your hands busy. That’s when you see it.

The pink heart-shaped box.

Your breath hitches.

You had snatched it from his hands that day, barely able to meet his gaze before bolting out of his apartment and driving straight back to your dorm. You had shoved it deep into your closet, hoping that if you buried it away, you could bury your feelings too.

For a moment, you consider throwing it away. What’s the point of holding onto it now? Jungkook knows. He read the notes, saw every piece of your heart laid bare. And in the end, it changed nothing.

Your fingers tremble as you lift the lid.

One by one, you pull out the little folded papers, unfolding memories you once held so close.

"I don’t know when it happened, but one day, he became my favourite person."

"His laugh is my favorite sound."

"I wish he knew how much he means to me."

Tears blur your vision.

You never wanted him to know.

Because you never wanted to lose him.

And now, you have.

The weight of it crashes over you all at once, and before you can stop it, the tears spill over, hot and relentless.

You clutch the notes to your chest as silent sobs wrack your body.

You’ve been holding the pain in for too long.

So tonight, you let the dams break.

And you cry yourself to sleep.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

You feel miserable.

Forget having a Valentine this year—you don’t even have a best friend anymore.

So you stay in bed all day, buried under the covers, refusing to acknowledge the world outside.

Your mind drifts, unbidden, to last year’s Valentine’s Day.

You and Jungkook had gone out for dinner—not as lovers, not as anything more than friends, just two people who didn’t have dates. You remember how he laughed at the terrible restaurant music, how he stole fries from your plate like they were his.

You miss it.

No—wait. You shouldn’t be thinking about him.

Shaking off the thought, you grab your Nintendo Switch and start playing, trying to distract yourself.

Then the doorbell rings.

You ignore it. Joy is probably home—she’ll get it.

But it rings again.

What is Joy doing?

Then it hits you—she probably stayed over at her boyfriend’s place last night.

With a groan, you push off the covers and make your way to the door. You swing it open, ready to shoo away whoever it is—

But there’s no one there.

Your gaze drops to the ground.

And then you see it.

A singular jar, placed carefully on the doormat.

You stare at the jar, a strange sense of familiarity creeping in, but you can’t quite place it.

Where have you seen something like this before?

Your mind scrambles for an answer, flipping through memories like pages in a book, but nothing surfaces.

With hesitant fingers, you reach down and pick it up, feeling the cool glass against your palm. It’s heavier than you expected.

That’s when you notice the writing on the lid, scrawled in red marker.

"To Y/N."

Your heart stutters.

You blink, trying to steady your breath, but the moment feels unreal—like you’ve stepped into a dream.

It’s only then that you notice the jar is filled with tiny rolled-up notes, crammed inside like secrets waiting to be unraveled.

Your mind starts spiraling.

What is this? Who left it? Why does it have your name?

Your hands tremble as you twist the lid open, the slight pop of the seal echoing in the silence.

You reach inside, fingers brushing against the countless little slips of paper.

With bated breath, you pull one out.

You carefully unroll it, eyes scanning the words scribbled in rushed, familiar handwriting.

"I lied."

That’s all it says.

Two words.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes trace the messy yet unmistakable handwriting.

Jungkook.

Your fingers tighten around the note as your pulse quickens.

It’s his.

The realization slams into you with a force that leaves you momentarily stunned.

Your breath turns shallow as the memory crashes into you—

Yesterday.

The crowd. The music. The overwhelming blur of people around you.

You had stumbled, nearly falling, only for Jungkook to catch you. For a fleeting moment, he held you close. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable.

You had searched his face, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you even care, Jungkook?"

You had wanted him to say yes. Even a little. Anything to make the ache in your chest feel less unbearable.

But instead—

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words had cut deeper than you ever thought possible.

And then he had let go. So fast, like touching you had burned him. Like you meant nothing at all.

You remember the way your heart had cracked, the way he had disappeared into the sea of people, leaving you stranded in the middle of a festival meant for love.

But now—

Now you stand here, gripping a jar full of his words.

"I lied."

Your hands fumble as you reach into the jar again, pulling out another note.

Unrolling it with shaky fingers, you read:

"I thought if I pushed you away, it’d be easier for you to move on. But the truth is, I don’t want you to."

A sharp pang strikes your chest.

Your mind reels, and suddenly, you're back at the rooftop party—drunk, vulnerable, spilling your heart out in slurred words.

“I liked you, you know? But now I realize I was just wasting my time.”

Jungkook had stood there, silent, unreadable, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

No apology. No denial. Nothing.

And then, just as effortlessly, he had turned away.

"You'll be fine," he'd said before walking off, leaving you alone in the cold night.

The memory burns like an open wound, and yet, here you are, standing in your doorway, holding the truth he should have told you that night in the palm of your hands.

Your fingers tremble as you pull out the next note.

"I missed your birthday on purpose because I wanted to give you something that lasts longer than a text."

Your breath hitches.

He didn’t forget?

He chose not to text?

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips, but it fades just as quickly as the weight of his words settles in.

You reach into the jar again, pulling out another note, heart pounding against your ribs.

What you didn’t know was—

Jungkook had spent hours writing your birthday note.

He had sat at his desk that night, a dozen crumpled papers around him, rewriting the same message over and over, never satisfied. His hands had been shaky when he finally folded the note and slipped it into the jar.

Because words were permanent.

Because he was afraid.

Because deep down, he knew—if he told you how much you really meant to him, he wouldn’t be able to push you away anymore.

And that terrified him.

Your grip on the jar tightens as you pull out the next note.

"I was scared you’d see me in the library that day. And you did. I almost stopped writing. But I wanted to finish this for you."

Your breath catches in your throat as a memory rushes back—

The library.

That afternoon, when you had finally dragged yourself back to campus to study for your exams, you had seen him sitting at your usual table, scribbling something into his notebook.

At the time, you thought nothing of it—until you watched him tear out a tiny slip of paper and slip it into a jar.

A jar.

The very same one you now hold in your trembling hands.

Back then, you had turned away, assuming it was for Hana.

But it wasn’t.

It was for you.

Every note in this jar was for you.

Your vision blurs as you stare down at the tiny rolled-up messages still waiting to be read.

He had been writing to you all along.

By the time you reach the last few notes, your hands are trembling. Maybe you can’t even read them through the tears clouding your vision. The weight of all those misunderstandings—every ignored confession, every painful silence, every moment you thought he didn’t care—crashes down on you all at once.

Your breath is uneven as you unroll another slip of paper.

"You thought I didn’t care. But I did. I always did."

A sob escapes your lips, the ache in your chest unbearable.

You clutch the jar against you like it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held—because it is. Because it’s him.

Every unspoken word. Every hidden feeling. Every truth he was too afraid to say aloud.

And now, you finally know.

Your breath catches as you reach the bottom of the jar, realizing the significance—there are exactly 100 notes, just like the box you once gave him.

With shaky hands, you pull out the 99th note.

“I was always bad at saying things out loud. So I wrote them instead. I just hope it’s not too late for you to read them.”

Your chest tightens.

You take a deep breath and reach for the last note, your fingers trembling. Slowly, you unroll it, heart pounding in your ears.

“Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

The paper almost slips from your fingers as your vision blurs with fresh tears. A shaky laugh escapes your lips, somewhere between disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

After everything, after all the silence, the pain, the misunderstandings—he’s finally saying it.

And suddenly, all that matters is what you’ll do next.

The moment the words register, you don’t think.

The jar nearly slips from your grasp as you scramble to your feet, your heartbeat hammering louder than the thoughts racing through your mind. Jungkook. He couldn’t have gone far—he must have just dropped it off.

You fling the door open, barefoot, barely even stopping to grab your keys. The cold air bites at your skin, but you don’t care. You sprint down the stairs, nearly stumbling in your rush to get outside.

Your eyes dart wildly around the street, your breath coming out in frantic puffs. Where is he?

Then, you see him.

A few feet away, Jungkook is walking slowly, hands in his pockets, head low like he’s already bracing for disappointment. Like he’s already convinced you won’t come after him.

But you do.

“Jungkook!”

He freezes.

You don’t stop running until you’re right in front of him, breathless, clutching the jar close to your chest like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the moment.

His eyes widen when he sees you—messy hair, no shoes, trembling hands still gripping his gift like it’s the most important thing in the world.

You swallow hard, voice shaking. “Did you mean it?”

Jungkook looks at you for a long moment, the night stretching between you like a fragile thread.

Then, barely above a whisper—“Yeah.”

Your chest heaves, breath uneven, voice shaking as you clutch the jar tighter.

"You absolute—jerk." Your voice wavers, but the anger, the hurt, the sheer weight of everything he’s put you through spills out in every word. "You sat there, letting me think I meant nothing to you. And the whole time, you were—" You shake the jar, almost laughing in disbelief. "—writing these?"

Jungkook doesn’t answer. He just stands there, hands stuffed in his pockets, jaw tight, like he’s bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say next.

"You could’ve just told me, Jungkook. You could’ve just—" You pause, gripping the jar like it’s the only thing holding you together. "Why? Why lie to me?"

He exhales sharply, his voice rough, like he’s been holding it in for too long.

"Because I was a coward."

You blink. You weren’t expecting him to admit it so easily.

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, looking away. "I thought pushing you away was the right thing to do. If I let you think I didn’t care, maybe you’d move on. Maybe you’d find someone who wouldn’t hurt you like I did."

Your throat tightens. Your fingers dig into the glass of the jar. "You were the one hurting me, Jungkook."

His eyes finally meet yours, and the weight of them almost knocks the air from your lungs. He looks wrecked.

"I know." His voice is barely above a whisper.

"Then why?" Your voice trembles, frustration bubbling over. "Why did you let me think I was chasing something that wasn’t even there?"

His jaw clenches, and for a second, he doesn’t answer. But then, his voice comes, low and raw.

"Because I was afraid you’d realize you deserved better."

Silence settles between you. A silence so thick it presses against your chest, making it hard to breathe.

You stare at him, your vision blurring. You should walk away. You should scream, cry—anything. But instead, you do the only thing you can think of.

You reach into the jar, grab a note at random, and shove it into his hand. "Read it."

Jungkook hesitates. Then, slowly, he unfolds the paper. His fingers tremble as he reads the words he once wrote.

"If I had been braver, I would’ve told you every single day how much you meant to me."

He sucks in a sharp breath, gripping the paper like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His eyes flick back up to yours, burning with something you can’t quite name.

"Say it now," you whisper.

Jungkook's breath catches. His grip on the note tightens like it’s the only thing keeping him together.

You wait. Trembling, heart pounding, eyes locked onto his. Daring him to finally, finally say it.

He exhales shakily. His voice is low, rough—like it hurts to speak, but he does anyway.

"Y/N…"

You don’t look away. Don’t let him run from this.

His throat bobs. His hand curls into a fist at his side, then slowly unclenches.

"I love you."

A sharp inhale cuts through you. Even though you were waiting for it, the words hit like a tidal wave.

Jungkook shakes his head, almost laughing, but there’s no humor in it—just raw, aching regret.

"I loved you then. I love you now. And I don’t think there’s a single version of me that won’t love you."

Your vision blurs, the weight of everything pressing down on you all at once.

"Then why—" your voice cracks, "—why did you let me think you didn’t?"

Jungkook exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. His face twists with something close to pain.

"Because I was scared." His voice is barely above a whisper. "Scared that if I let myself have you, I’d ruin you. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize I wasn’t worth it."

Your hands clench at your sides. "You don’t get to decide that for me."

He nods. Swallows hard. Takes a step closer.

"I know." His voice is softer now. "And if I could go back, I’d do it all differently. But I can’t. All I can do is stand here and tell you—"

Your lips crash into his, years of longing and heartbreak unraveling in a single, desperate moment. Your fingers fist into his jacket, pulling him closer, closing the distance like you’ve been waiting forever. Because you have.

Jungkook catches you. His arms wind tight around your waist, grounding you, anchoring you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again. His grip is firm, unyielding, as if holding you is the only thing that makes sense anymore.

The kiss isn’t soft—it’s frantic, raw, filled with all the words you never got to say. It’s a confession, an apology, a plea. His lips move against yours with urgency, pouring everything into it, like he’s trying to make up for every second he spent pushing you away.

Jungkook tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and a shiver runs through you as his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. His other hand spreads against your back, pressing you impossibly closer, like even this isn’t enough, like he’d fuse you together if he could.

You melt. Every wall you built, every ounce of anger, every misunderstanding—crumbling, dissolving into the heat of him. The way he kisses you feels like an answer to a question you didn’t know you were asking. Like a promise.

When you finally pull apart, neither of you lets go.

Jungkook rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours, still uneven, still shaken. His hands remain on your waist like he’s afraid that the second he lets go, this will all disappear.

Your fingers stay curled in his shirt, gripping the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

His voice is raw when he finally speaks, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t deserve you.”

You exhale, shaking your head, the weight of everything still pressing against your chest. Your voice is quiet, but steady. “Then spend every day proving that you do.”

Jungkook lets out a soft laugh—one that sounds broken and real, like he can’t believe he’s still allowed to have this moment with you.

“Deal,” he murmurs.

And then he kisses you again.

The door barely clicks shut before Jungkook is on you again, his hands framing your face as his lips crash into yours. There’s no hesitation now, no careful restraint—only heat, only the raw, aching need that’s been simmering between you for far too long.

His body presses against yours, pushing you back into the door, and you gasp against his lips. He swallows the sound, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping over yours with slow, deliberate intent. He tastes like something addictive—like want, like longing, like the kind of hunger that makes your stomach tighten and your knees go weak.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer. His hands roam down, slipping under the hem of your shirt, fingertips skimming along your bare skin. His touch is scorching, leaving a trail of fire wherever he moves. He pauses, his breath ragged, lips barely brushing yours.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, voice rough, uneven.

You shake your head, tilting your chin up until your lips ghost over his again. "I don’t want you to stop."

The words break something inside him.

His mouth crashes onto yours again, hungrier this time, more desperate. His hands slide up your back, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the hard lines of his body, the way his chest rises and falls unsteadily against yours. One hand grips your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you shudder, while the other slides lower, gripping your thigh and hitching it up against his hip.

A quiet moan escapes you at the feeling, and he groans in response, pressing harder into you. His lips leave yours, trailing a path down your jaw, to the sensitive spot beneath your ear, where he lingers. His teeth scrape lightly against your skin before he soothes it with his tongue, sucking gently, enough to make you arch into him, enough to make your breath hitch.

"Jungkook—" His name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper, and he exhales sharply against your skin, like the sound is enough to undo him.

His grip tightens as he lifts you effortlessly, hands settling under your thighs. Instinct takes over, and your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you across the room. He lays you down on the bed with care, but there’s nothing careful about the way he follows you down, covering your body with his own.

He hovers above you, his breath warm against your lips, his dark eyes searching yours. His thumb brushes over your cheek, then lower, tracing the curve of your bottom lip, his touch unbearably light.

"You’re sure?" he whispers, voice thick with something heady.

Your only answer is a whispered "Yes," breathless, certain.

Something shifts in him at your words. His lips find yours again, but this time, he takes his time—exploring, savoring, as if he wants to memorize every inch of you. His kisses trail downward, along the curve of your neck, across your collarbone, his mouth mapping out a path of heat and sensation. His hands move with just as much purpose, slipping under fabric, pushing it aside, fingers tracing bare skin with an intimacy that makes your pulse stutter.

Every brush of his lips, every slow, deliberate touch sends waves of electricity through you, igniting something deep and primal. Clothes are discarded in slow, teasing movements, the heat between you building with every layer that falls away.

His lips ghost over your shoulder, down your arm, over the curve of your breasts, his breath hot and uneven. He watches you, eyes dark with something intense, something almost reverent, as his fingers trace slow, lazy patterns along your bare skin.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmurs, voice filled with something deeper than desire.

You reach for him, pulling him back up, needing his mouth on yours again, needing more. He obliges, kissing you fiercely, like he never wants to stop, like this moment has been waiting to happen for far too long.

His hands explore moving towards your heat, his touch reverent yet possessive, like he’s memorizing every inch of you, like he’s making up for all the lost time. You arch into him, breath hitching, hands gripping onto his shoulders as heat coils low in your stomach.

"Jungkook," you whisper, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

His breath catches, and he exhales shakily. "I’ve got you," he murmurs against your skin, voice barely above a whisper. "I’m right here."

And then there’s no more talking—only movement, only passion, only the feeling of finally, finally being exactly where you both belong.

The air is thick with warmth, bodies tangled beneath the sheets, hearts pounding in tandem as the last echoes of your shared breaths settle between you. The world outside might still be turning, but in this moment, it doesn’t exist. It’s just you and him, skin against skin, the weight of what just happened pressing down like the softest, heaviest thing in the world.

Your body is spent, muscles trembling faintly from the aftershocks, but you don’t move. You can’t.

Jungkook is still holding you. One arm draped lazily around your waist, the other tracing absentminded patterns against your back. His touch is slow, soothing, like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re real. Like if he lets go, you might slip away.

You stay like that for a while, chests rising and falling in sync, your head resting just above his heart. The rhythm of it is steady now, no longer racing like it had been just moments ago. Still, there’s a softness to it, an unspoken question lingering in the quiet space between you.

It’s you who finally breaks it.

“So…” You shift slightly, fingers trailing absentmindedly along his chest. “Hana knew about the jar?”

His hand stills for the briefest moment before he exhales a small, breathy laugh. His voice is thick with exhaustion, but there’s amusement in it too.

“She didn’t just know about it.” His fingers resume their slow, idle circles against your bare skin. “It was her idea.”

You blink. “…What?”

Jungkook hums in confirmation, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Yeah. She was the one who told me to do it—to fill a jar with everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.” He pauses, then adds, “She also threatened to expose me if I didn’t.”

You scoff, though you can’t help the warmth blooming in your chest. “So let me get this straight… You couldn’t tell me how you felt, but you told Hana?”

Jungkook turns his head slightly to look at you, eyes still heavy with sleep, but the amusement in them is undeniable. “I didn’t tell her. She just… figured it out.”

Of course, she did.

You huff, feigning annoyance, but your fingers betray you, tracing soft, aimless patterns along his collarbone. “Still. She knew before I did.”

Jungkook grins, rolling onto his side to face you fully. One hand slips beneath the sheets, finding your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. His voice is low when he asks, “Are you jealous?”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

His laughter vibrates against your skin, rich and warm, before he dips down to kiss you—slow and lingering, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into it. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet.

Then, softer now, more serious, he murmurs, “Are you gonna answer me?”

Your brow furrows slightly. “Answer what?”

Jungkook leans over, reaching toward the nightstand where the jar still sits, its notes untouched—except for the last one.

“The question,” he says, retrieving the single unfolded slip of paper. He holds it between you, and even though you already know what it says, your heart still stutters when your eyes skim over the words again.

Y/N, will you be my Valentine?

Earlier, you had left it unanswered, too overwhelmed by everything that had come before it. But now, after everything—after confessions, after heartbreak, after finally finding each other again—there’s no hesitation.

You reach out, plucking the note from his fingers. Slowly, carefully, you fold it again, tucking it beneath your pillow like something precious, something worth keeping. Then, meeting his gaze, you whisper, “You never needed to ask.”

Jungkook exhales, slow and shaky, like something inside him has finally settled. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin like he’s memorizing the moment.

“Good,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “Because I wasn’t planning on taking no for an answer.”

Your breath catches. Not because of his confidence—but because, deep down, you realize you’d never wanted to say no in the first place. Maybe you had tried to fight it. Maybe you had convinced yourself that the past had built too many walls between you. But now, lying here in the warmth of his arms, the truth settles into your bones like something that had been waiting for you to accept it all along.

It had always been him.

Your fingers tighten in the sheets as you search his gaze, looking for hesitation, for doubt—for something to make this feel less like a dream. But there’s nothing. Just him. Just you. Just this moment you both fought so hard to reach.

Jungkook watches you, waiting, always waiting, his hand still resting against your cheek as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

So you close the distance.

You kiss him slowly this time, letting it sink in. The warmth of his lips, the taste of him still lingering, the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. When you pull away, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing the same air, hearts beating in time.

And then, with a quiet, knowing smile, you whisper, “Then don’t.”

Jungkook’s lips part slightly, his expression shifting—softening, melting—as if those two words had knocked down every last barrier between you. And maybe they had. Because before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you against him again, tucking you close, his hand slipping into yours beneath the sheets.

Neither of you speak for a long time after that. You don’t need to.

Outside, the world keeps turning, time moving forward just as it always does. But here, in the hush of your dorm room, wrapped up in him, it feels like the universe has paused just for you.

Not to make up for lost time.

But to remind you that some things—some people—were never really lost at all.

And maybe, just maybe, they never would be.

EPILOGUE : Years Later – Valentine’s Day

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the apartment, kicking off your shoes with a tired sigh. The evening air still clings to your skin, carrying traces of laughter and the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence.

It had been another perfect night—one filled with inside jokes, stolen bites of each other’s food, and his usual exasperated attempts to get you to pick a restaurant instead of saying, “Anything’s fine.”

Jungkook is nowhere in sight, giving you the solitude you need. You don’t hesitate. Your steps are purposeful as you cross the room, crouching down beside the bed. With practiced ease, you reach under the frame, fingers brushing against the familiar surface of a small pink, heart-shaped box.

But this time, there’s something else.

Your fingers find the jar—the one that started it all.

You pull them both out carefully, as if they were a fragile secret, and place them on your lap.

Soft footsteps approach. Then, a familiar weight sinks onto the mattress beside you.

Jungkook’s voice is quieter now, fond. “Didn’t think I’d see those again.”

You smile, running a thumb over the worn edges of the box before glancing at him. “I don’t know what made me reach for them.”

He hums, gaze flickering between the objects in your hands. “Habit, maybe. Or fate.” Then, smirking, “You always did have a thing for digging up answers.”

Rolling your eyes, you pop the lid off the jar, fingers fishing out an old note. The paper is creased, the ink slightly faded, but you already know what it says.

"Y/N, will you be my Valentine?"

Jungkook watches you, expectant. “You never actually answered me, you know.”

You exhale a laugh, shaking your head. “Jungkook, we’re literally married.”

“And?” He leans in, teasing. “I’m just saying, a verbal confirmation wouldn’t hurt.”

You scoff but humor him anyway, fingers curling into his sweater as you whisper against his lips—

"Yes, Jungkook. I’ll be your Valentine."

His arms wrap around you, pulling you in. The jar sits forgotten on the floor, the pink box nestled beside it.

Once upon a time, you had pulled it out, searching for clarity. Looking for a sign.

You didn’t realize then—you never needed the answers inside.

Because you’d already found them.

Because you’d found him.

And maybe that was the answer all along.

taglist: @iamstilljk @hirochan112 @withluvjm @amarawayne @jeon-has-left-you-on-seen @blueofocean @tattzjeon @tsick @stuti2904 @gukkiebabysblog @taekritimin123 @whisperingonyx @sadgirlroo @nerdycheol @hoshiskimchi @blueberriesm @kooksrqcer @minimoninini @dreamersparacosm @yok00k @whothefuckisthishoe @prxdajeon @darkangelfei @sunainasworld @kia091106 @khadeeeeej @welcometomyworld13 @noshametempo @bakuhoethotski @ohyeah35sworld

thank you so much for reading! let me know what u think about it <3

[miscellaneous-misty]

Valentine's Day

❣︎ summary: in which the jjk men told you they have to work on valentine’s day but then they surprise you

❣︎ featuring: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna x fem!reader

❣︎ tags: SFW, fluff, established relationship, romantic gestures

❣︎ notes: happy valentine's day! let's enjoy fictional men together <3 (this is lowkey rushed, sorry. i did my best within the time constraints.) you can assume that sukuna is a special grade sorcerer in this and not the king of curses lol. side note: i love gojo being a fucking crash out at any given opportunity.

❣︎ link to masterlist

ᡣ𐭩∿‧°• Toji •°‧∿ᡣ𐭩

ᡣ𐭩∿‧°• Gojo •°‧∿ᡣ𐭩

ᡣ𐭩∿‧°• Geto •°‧∿ᡣ𐭩

ᡣ𐭩∿‧°• Nanami •°‧∿ᡣ𐭩

ᡣ𐭩∿‧°• Choso •°‧∿ᡣ𐭩

ᡣ𐭩∿‧°• Sukuna •°‧∿ᡣ𐭩

[orikixx]

Secret Admirer?

Valentines special!

smau: you find out they're your secret admirers! including: gojo, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, geto

[animamii]

Part deux of Toji's Valentine's Surprise

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Your body locks up. Your breath stills. Toji—in the flesh—is standing in your living room, looking smug as hell, arms crossed over that broad chest like he knew he just rocked your entire world.

"You should see your face, princess," he chuckles, tilting his head. "Like you seen a ghost."

Your mind is racing. He’s supposed to be locked up. This is impossible. And yet—he’s here. Solid. Tangible. Real. Smirking at you like he didn’t just pull off the stunt of the century.

"You—" You inhale sharply, fists clenching at your sides. "How—" You don’t even finish the question before you smack his chest, hard enough to make your palm sting. He doesn’t even flinch, just grins like he enjoys the reaction.

"Miss me, baby?" His voice drops, smooth and teasing. Still the cocky bastard he's always been.

"Are you insane?" Your voice comes out breathless, uneven. "You’re supposed to be—"

Toji hums, unfazed. "Supposed to be what?" He steps closer, looming over you with that tantalizing smirk he always adorns. his presence thick and heavy—dangerous and intoxicating. "Locked up? Far away from my girl? Mmm, nah. That was never gonna last."

His girl. That shouldn’t make your stomach flip the way it does. Especially after all this time, but it does.

"You’re reckless," you breathe out, but your voice betrays you—too soft, too shaky. You forgot just how little he made you feel, like a little lamb standing in front of the big bad wolf.

"Yeah?" He reaches out, fingers brushing along your jaw, tilting your chin up. "And yet here I am, standing in front of you. Right where I belong." You swallow hard, heart hammering against your chest. His thumb traces your bottom lip, a touch so familiar, so effortlessly possessive, it makes your knees weak.

"Say it," he murmurs, eyes hooded. "Say you missed me."

You hate how easy it is for him to unravel you. How he knows you did. Toji leans in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, "Or do I gotta remind you how bad you missed me?"

Your breath catches. You should shove him away. Should demand answers. Should do anything other than what you do next—fisting his shirt and yanking him down into a teeth clashing kiss.

Toji chuckles against your lips, the sound low and deep, like he expected this reaction all along. His hands—warm, calloused, and oh so familiar—find your waist, pulling you flush against him. It’s been too long, and your body betrays you, melting into his touch as if he never left.

"You’re crazy," you whisper, looking up at him with those wide eyes that he's always loved.

He grins, lips ghosting over your jaw before pressing a slow, lingering kiss just below your ear. "You say that like it’s a bad thing."

Your fingers tighten around his shirt, the fabric bunching between your fists. "It is," you hiss, but your body betrays you, tilting toward him when he moves. "You—Toji, you broke out—do you have any idea—"

"Shhh." He silences you with another kiss, deeper this time, his grip tightening around your waist. "We can talk later."

You should be more worried. Should push him away, demand answers, tell him this is reckless and insane. But the moment his hands slip lower, gripping your thighs and lifting you effortlessly, you’re wrapping yourself around him, letting him carry you to the bedroom like you knew this was how tonight would end. It was Valentine's Day after all.

Toji kicks the door shut behind him, smirking down at you as he lays you on the bed. His eyes—sharp, dark, hungry—roam over you like he’s memorizing every inch all over again.

"Missed you," he mutters, voice rough, as his hands slide up your thighs, pushing that silky dress higher.

You swallow, lips parted as you try to catch your breath. "You’re insane," you whisper again, but it comes out weaker this time, more breathless.

Toji smirks, dipping his head until his lips brush against yours again. "And yet," he murmurs, voice thick with amusement and something darker, "you’re still here. Wrapped around me like you never want me to leave."

You shudder. "I hate you."

He laughs, a quiet, knowing sound, before pressing his lips to your throat. "Liar."

Your breath stutters when his lips drag down the column of your throat, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment. Like he knows he has all the time in the world. His grip tightens on your thighs, his body pressed between them, and it’s infuriating—the way he’s taking his time, the way he’s acting like he never left. Like he never spent months locked up, sending you teasing, filthy little letters to remind you he still owned you.

"Toji—"

"Shhh, baby," he murmurs against your skin, voice thick with amusement. "S’been too long. Lemme take my time with you."

He’s impossible. Infuriating. But your body betrays you, arching into his touch, fingers threading through his dark hair as he kisses his way lower. You hate how much you missed him—hate how, despite every part of you screaming that this is reckless, stupid, you can’t bring yourself to stop him.

"You’re a wanted man," you remind him breathlessly, grasping onto some semblance of control, but Toji just grins, his teeth grazing over your collarbone before he presses a kiss there.

"Yeah? And?" His fingers hook under the hem of your dress, sliding it higher. "That stop you from wanting me?"

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when he tugs the fabric over your hips, leaving you bare beneath him. Your pulse pounds, heat rushing to your cheeks, and Toji just chuckles, gaze darkening as he drinks you in.

"Fuck, baby," he rasps, running his hands up your thighs, rough fingers making you shiver. "Been waitin’ for this. Dreamin’ about this."

You should push him away. Should demand answers. But instead, your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him back down until his mouth crashes against yours. All that could wait for later, right?

Toji groans into your mouth when you pull him down, all teasing amusement vanishing as his body presses flush against yours. His hands are rough, calloused from years of fights and cold aridness of prison, but they touch you with a hunger and gentle warmth that makes your breath hitch. His knee slots between your legs, pressing just enough to make you whimper, and he smirks against your lips.

"Missed me that bad, huh?" His voice is thick with pride, like he knows what he’s doing to you. Like he couldn't wait to make you melt like this.

You glare at him, chest heaving and lips glossy with swapped saliva. "Shut up, Toji."

He chuckles, low and dark, before flipping you onto your stomach in one swift movement. A startled gasp escapes you as he presses his weight against your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"That any way to talk to the man who just risked everything to see you?" His voice is silk and gravel, smooth yet dangerous, sending a shiver straight down your spine.

You swallow hard, pressing your palms against the sheets, heart hammering. "You’re insane."

"Yeah?" His hands slide down your sides, slow, possessive. "And yet here you are, lettin’ an insane man touch you like this."

You open your mouth to snap at him, but then he bites down on your shoulder, just enough to make your breath stutter. You feel his smirk against your skin, feel the way his grip tightens like he’s testing you, waiting for you to fight him, to push him away. But you don’t. Instead, you press back against him, feeling the way his body stiffens for a brief second before a deep, pleased growl rumbles in his chest.

"Fuck," he mutters, voice raspier now. "That’s my girl."

Your stomach flips. Your fingers curl into the sheets.

"Toji—"

His hand slides under your chin, tilting your head just enough for his lips to brush against yours. "Say it." His voice is low, insistent. "Say you missed me."

Your throat tightens. You hate how easy it is for him to pull the truth from you.

"I—" Your voice shakes, but the words tumble out anyway. "I missed you, okay?"

Toji groans like he felt those words, his hand sliding down your stomach, fingers toying with the waistband of your underwear. "Yeah?" His breath is hot against your ear. "Show me, baby."

And then his hands are everywhere, his mouth pressing desperate, feverish kisses along your spine, and you let yourself get lost in the way he devours you like a man starved. Like he’s spent every second of his time locked up thinking about this. About you.

Toji moves like he owns you—like he never left, like he never spent months locked away with nothing but memories and filthy daydreams of you to keep him sane. His hands are rough, greedy, sliding over your skin like he’s trying to make up for lost time. And maybe he is. Maybe that’s why his mouth trails fire along your spine, why his grip tightens every time you sigh his name.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he flips you onto your back again. He looms over you, eyes dark, wild, hungry. "Look at you. Been dyin’ to have you under me again." His dark blue eyes scan over every inch of you, burning it into his memory. The way the silk clings to every curve, the lacy trim that is snug against your breasts, the way one straps slides off your shoulder.

Your breath is uneven, chest rising and falling as he takes his time devouring you with his gaze. He licks his lips, dragging a hand through his messy black hair, and the sight alone makes your stomach tighten. It's as if he spent all his time in prison getting even more sexier.

"Toji," you whisper, fingers ghosting over his jaw, the scar on his lip. He catches your wrist before you can pull away, pressing a kiss to your palm, slow and lingering. Like he needs to feel the warmth and softness of your skin, of your touch.

"Say it again," he rasps. It's music to his ears, hearing it in person rather than through a grainy prison call. Seeing it, the way your pretty lips move as every syllable spills out.

Your throat tightens. "Toji."

He groans, like he felt that in his chest, before surging down to capture your lips again. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a claim, a demand, a promise. He presses himself against you, and it’s impossible to ignore how much he wants you, how much he missed you too.

"Missed you, baby," he mutters against your lips, his hands sliding under the silky slip dress he sent you, pushing it up, baring more of you to him. "Thought about you every fuckin’ night. Couldn’t even sleep without—"

He cuts himself off with a curse, shaking his head like he’s annoyed at himself for admitting it. But the way his grip tightens on you, the way his lips move over your skin, says everything he won’t.

You bite your lip, fingers threading through his hair as he kisses a path down your stomach. "Then why’d you leave me?"

Toji stills. His breath hitches against your skin, just for a second. Then he exhales, slow and controlled, before pressing one last kiss to your hip.

"Didn’t wanna drag you into my shit," he finally mutters, voice rougher now. He lifts his head, meets your gaze. "But guess that was pointless, huh?"

You swallow hard. "Yeah," you whisper, tugging him back up, pressing your forehead against his. "It was."

His lips curl into something between a smirk and a grimace, like he knew this was coming but hoped you wouldn’t say it. He sighs, cupping your face, thumb stroking along your cheek.

"You mad at me, baby?"

You exhale, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Ask me later."

Toji chuckles, low and dark. "Yeah?" He tilts your chin up, kissing you again, slower this time, deeper. "Guess I’ll have to make it up to you first."

And he does.

Over and over again.

Happy Valentine's Day.

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Part twoooo!! I love this sm idk I luv itttt. Requested by the lovely @cheolliehugs

tags ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ @psoycy @yourname-exee @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @universallydepressed13

ꨄ︎ comment to be added to tag list for the lockedup!toji series ꨄ︎

[indigofyrebird]

My Darling Hera, 

From the very first moment I heard your voice I loved you. 

Everything I thought I wanted meant nothing after meeting you. 

You came into my life and suddenly I didn't need the drink to take the pain away. 

When you're by my side I can't help but wonder at your mighty spirit. It's like you have this light that comes from your very being. It has changed my life.

I want these words on paper to tell you how much you mean to me.

Be mine. 

The galaxy could be falling around our ears and it wouldn't matter as long as you tell me I'm yours and you're mine. 

If I could, I would use the Force to show you how much I love you. And maybe when your soul was as full as mine you would know that nothing feels right without you by my side. 

Your wish is my command, Hera. Say the word and I'll follow you to the ends of the universe.

Atollon or Lothal, Tatooine or Coruscant, with you at my side I feel I can save the worlds. You make me a better man.

Be mine, be mine.

I can fly through the deepest, darkest space with you as my pilot and never lose my way, never give in to my fears.

Be mine.

Love, your jedi, Kanan

[megumismyhusband]

valentine’s day, to you, is simple. a “happy valentine’s day” in passing, maybe some chocolates if you remember to buy them in advance. but rin? rin itoshi?

he treats it like a mission. like some high-stakes event he has to absolutely dominate.

so when you roll over in bed, still half-asleep, and mumble a lazy, “happy valentine’s day, rin,” you don’t expect much. maybe a grunt of acknowledgment, if you’re lucky.

instead, he looks at you like you just offended his entire bloodline. “that’s it?”

you blink. “huh?”

he sighs like he’s the most patient man on earth. “get up.”

you do, mostly out of confusion, and that’s when you see it—the basket. filled with your favorite snacks, a new hoodie (because he claims you always steal his), a handwritten letter, and—are those concert tickets?

“rin,” you start, staring at the absurdly well-put-together gift. “what the hell?”

he crosses his arms, expression unreadable. “you like it?”

“yeah, obviously, but—”

before you can process, he’s already shoving a neatly folded piece of paper into your hands. “itinerary,” he says. “we have a full day planned.”

and by full day, he means full day. brunch at that one café you mentioned months ago, an art exhibit you didn’t even know was in town, a private movie screening, and dinner at a place so fancy you’re almost afraid to ask how much it cost.

it’s so much. it’s so rin.

“i thought you didn’t care about stuff like this,” you say, still overwhelmed, still standing there in your pajamas while he waits expectantly for you to get ready.

he clicks his tongue, looking away. “…it’s different with you.”

and just like that, you’re grabbing his face, pressing a kiss to his cheek, laughing when his ears go red. “happy valentine’s day, rinnie.”

he huffs, but his hand finds yours anyway. “yeah. happy valentine’s day.”

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Bucky’s Quiet Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Reader

Summary: After a painful breakup, Bucky offers quiet comfort and unconditional care, showing you a love that's patient and gentle. He mends the ache in your chest and reminds you that you deserve so much more.

Word Count: Roughly 1.3k 

Warnings: A smidge of angst (super tiny, barely there), references to an emotionally draining relationship, toxic relationship dynamics, obviously fluff (because who I am without it?), thoughts of self-worth, slow-burn.

Author's Note: Based on this request + I worked in some Valentine's Day things and a lil poem just because :)

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Divider by: @strangergraphics 

Love is not always loud,

Not fiery, sharp, or proud,

The Tower was quiet when you got back. 

Your eyes were downcast, the weight of tonight, the last year, weighing on you so heavily that you wanted to crawl into a hole.

You didn’t want to talk to anyone immediately; your mind was consumed with flashes of every rough patch, fight, and the breakup itself tonight. The words that echoed from your ex’s mouth were like a cruel stab to the heart:

“You always made things so complicated. I’m not the one with the problem here; you are. You were always so needy, always wanting more. I’m actually relieved it’s over. You were ruining me. I’m sure you’ll find someone else who can tolerate you. I’m just better off without all your drama.”

You had poured your heart into a relationship that never seemed to give back, where your love was only met with the bare minimum effort. You were always left wanting, always feeling like there was something more to give, but he couldn’t wouldn’t supply it.

And the icing on the cake, or in this case, salt on the wound: you found out that he had been seeing someone else the day before Valentine’s Day, 

The betrayal stung, but there was also a deep sadness. 

You knew you deserved more, but a part of you kept hoping he’d see you, really see you. You wanted to be enough. You craved his validation, his attention, his touch, his love.

But that never came. 

He drained your happiness.

Till you felt hollow.

It doesn’t need to shout its name,

Or spark an endless, burning flame.

When Bucky saw you standing there, looking small and broken, his chest ached. He knew. He always knew. 

His deep blue eyes were the ones that had always seemed to understand you, even when you couldn't quite articulate how you were feeling. 

And right now? 

You couldn’t describe how you were feeling. 

Exhausted? 

Shittty? 

Overwhelmed? 

All of the above could be a more than adequate description.

You didn't even have to look up to know Bucky was there. His presence, that unspoken comfort, was enough. He'd been waiting for you. You could feel it, feel him, even before you saw him.

Bucky had always been the one who understood when things were left unsaid. You could talk to him for hours or simply sit silently; it would always feel like home. But tonight? Your heart was broken tonight, and nothing would ever feel like home again for a while.

You felt the sting of tears behind your eyes as you walked toward him. You didn’t try to hide that your eyes were glossed over or that you were visibly tired.

He stood up from the couch and was pulling you into his strong arms before you could even say a word. 

You buried your face into his sweater, letting the tears fall. His embrace was the first real comfort you’d had all day, and you crumbled into him. The last week had been a blur of fights, loneliness, and betrayal. Your ex had been giving you the bare minimum for months, only fulfilling the things that kept the relationship afloat. 

Bucky had seen the way you smiled for him, how you tried to fill the empty space in your relationship with kindness, how you were always the one to bend, to give.

And it killed him.

"I’m so sorry, sweetheart," Bucky’s warm breath against your hair as he held you close, pressing his lips to your head. "I’m so sorry that happened to you."

You let out a shaky breath, nodding, unable to form words. 

Bucky’s arms around you felt like the safest place you’d ever been, and it took everything not to collapse into him completely.

"You’re safe here," Bucky said softly. "Don’t stress this. I’ll be here. Always."

You nodded again, pulling away slightly to look up at his face. His eyes softened at the sight of you. You could see the worry in them, the concern.

"I’m sorry," you whispered. "I just...I don’t know what is what anymore. I don’t what to do with myself."

Bucky wiped a stray tear from your cheek, his thumb brushing over the softness of your skin. His touch was gentle and caring. He was always so careful with you, treating you as though you were the most precious thing in the world. But right now, you felt broken, like you weren’t worthy of the love he offered so freely.

"You’re gonna be okay," he murmured as he gently squeezed you. "You’ve been through something really fucking tough, but you’re not alone, okay?"

Bucky led you to the couch and you sighed, sinking into the furniture. He searched for the softest blanket he could find, wrapping it around your shoulders. He just sat beside you, as you tried to find your grounding. A gentle hand continually stroked your hair as you melted into him. His quiet presence like soothing balm to your weary soul. 

Bucky had always known how to give you the needed space without making you feel alone.

You fell asleep eventually, comforted by the feeling of his presence beside you.

Some love is quiet, soft, and true,

And in that peace, you’ll start anew.

The next day, Bucky woke up with an idea. He had kicked everyone out of the Tower in the afternoon, telling them he had some private things to handle. 

You didn’t know what he had planned, but when you walked into the living room later that evening, your heart fluttered with surprise.

The lights were dimmed. The room was now softly lit with candles and the faint glow of fairy lights. A table was set for two with flowers arranged in a vase in the center: tulips, your favorite. There was no grand display, no flashy gestures, just the kind of thoughtful simplicity that spoke volumes.

Bucky was waiting by the table, dressed in a way that was casual but put together, a white shirt and dark slacks that made him look effortlessly handsome.

"You didn’t have to do all this," you whispered. 

He gave a small, amused smile.

"Yeah, I did," he said. "You deserve to feel special, especially today."

Bucky guided you to the seat, pulling out the chair for you. His eyes were soft, full of affection and care. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pushing. He was just there, present.

The meal was simple, but there was love in every bite. He had taken the time to make it, and the care was evident in how he plated it, in the small details that made you feel seen.

"You’ve been through a lot, and you deserve better," he said softly, kissing your forehead as you both sat on the couch.

"You already give me more than anyone else ever did." The words escaped before you could think, and you met his gaze. His smile was gentle, his eyes filled with a quiet intensity that made your stpmach flip.

Bucky took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over your skin, grounding you in the moment. There was no rush, no expectations. Just him. His gentle love, his patience, his presence.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against your forehead once more, his breath warm against your skin. "No one’s going to hurt you again. I’m not going anywhere, okay?"

You nodded.

His lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss that told you everything: You deserved to be treated with the kindness, respect, and tenderness you’d been craving. You don’t have to beg or fight for it.

And for the first time in a long time, you believed it.

Not loud, not brash, but always there,

A love that shows its tender care.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

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