#also the memory thing is FASCINATING i need to find studies on this

[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

[imagineweasley]

Puppy Love: Part II

Sirius Black x Fem reader

summary: you and your friends are fascinated by animagi and one day, decide to take a risk and become one. it proves to be an interesting experience - one day you are wandering the forest when things take a turn and secrets are revealed...

read part 1 here!

y/n: your name

y/h: your house

y/c: your color

submit a request!

author's note: a valentines' day present to my valentines! here's part 2 of puppy love :) also - THIS ONE GOT SO LONG TOO! this part is a big slow but i had to cut it off somewhere and i'll try to get part 3 out sooner. buckle in!

@hellokitty-girl666

-

Y/n's POV

My task was simple. During Herbology, I'd sneak over to where Professor Sprout kept the mandrakes and sneak three leaves. Somehow, I had to get them without the bloody things screaming at the top of their lungs, so my plan was to find three fresh leaves that they might have already dropped, or else I'd have to go to plan B. I did not want to go to plan B.

We'd scoured Advanced Potion-Making the night before, reading the steps over and over again so that we could commit them to memory. Callie had wanted to write it down but Ellie and I vetoed that idea; if we got caught, one look at the list would reveal what we were doing.

Under the list of items and instructions, there was an extensive list of disclaimers:

DO NOT ATTEMPT UNLESS OVER THE AGE OF 17. DO NOT ATTEMPT UNLESS AT/SUPERVISED BY A WITCH OR WIZARD WITH ADVANCED MASTERY OF POTIONS. IF STEP 3 FAILS, WITCH OR WIZARD MAY HAVE PERMANENT WHISKERS.

We ignored those, especially the whiskers part. The others had their own tasks, of course. Callie would be collecting the dew from somewhere "neither sun nor human feet have touched," and her best guess so far was to go to the Forbidden Forest to collect them. One of us would have to go with her, of course, there was no way we'd let her go in there alone. Ellie on the other hand, would have to get a chrysalis of a death-head's hawk moth. We were stumped because what the hell is that? After some research, we realized we would not be able to obtain it ourselves, and would have to find some underground tactics. I had no idea how she would pull it off, but if anyone could, it was Ellie.

It was the next morning now, and Callie and I were headed to Herbology. "You ready?" Callie whispered to me while we hugged our books to our chests and tramped to the greenhouse.

"Ready." I kept my eyes forward, not wanting to attract attention to us.

When we arrived at the green house, we found a spot on the far end of the green house, where the mandrakes were tucked into a corner to reduce the risk of a clumsy student falling into them and causing a chorus of brain-splitting shrieks. Callie tood right in front of me, stepping on my foot.

"Ow! Callie get off!"

"Sorry!" She whispered, panic creeping into her voice, "I'm just trying to make sure no one sees you!"

"Alright students, gather around!" Madame Pomfrey marched into the greenhouse and motioned for people to come closer, "I hope you all have good reflexes, as today, we'll be studying the Devil's Snare." There were a few "oooh"s as the students gathered around the small cut of the vine and Professor sprout bent over it. I, on the other hand, saw this as the chance to snatch some leaves and backed away from the group as discreetly as possible towards the sleeping mandrakes. I whipped around to the pots for my target, heart thumping. I scanned each pot for what I needed, but it looked like the mandrakes were perfectly in order. Damn. Of course they were in perfect shape, there was no way Sprout would ever let them - hold on. A flash of green caught my eye, tucked behind one of the mandrakes. I leaned carefully over as to not disturb it, and saw two leaves. Bingo!

Very slowly, I reached my fingertips in between the plants and managed to grab the them. I breathed a small sigh of relief, but it wasn't over yet - I still needed one more.

I looked over my shoulder to see if I had been spotted, but all I saw were students' backs and Callie shooting nervous glances back at me. I shot her a look that said Turn! Around! and she huffed but listened. Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to the plants in front of me. I searched in the dirt once more for one, JUST ONE more leaf, but there wasn't any. I even scanned the ground below the table, but no luck. Disappointed, I returned to the group.

"... usually grow so large that they can trap large humans, and they try to trick you with these lovely flowers..." Professor Sprout was holding up the pot to show everyone the budding white flowers. I tried to pay attention but all the possibilities of plan B were reeling endlessly in my brain. In my peripheral I could see Callie shooting me nervous glances but I ignored her and stared as hard as I could at the plant, wishing it could strangle my thoughts.

-

We huddled in the corner of the library for a rundown of our progress.

"Alright girls, how did it go today?" Ellie blew a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes out of the way. I sighed.

"Only two." I mumbled, and she looked slightly disappointed but seemed to push it aside. "Okay! That's two more than we had this morning!"

"Yeah, but now I'll have to do plan B." I had really been hoping that it would be a one-and-done situation.

"Y/n, you've got this!" Ellie touched my arm encouragingly, "I would help, but I have to go find Jessup Daniels tonight. I've heard whispers that he has a gift for sneaking things into school for people for a price, things that no one should be able to get their hands on except for the most shadowy wizards. No one knows how he gets them, but I figure out of everyone, he'd know where to get those chrysalises."

Callie and I nodded in agreement. "He looks like he'd know how to get things like that." I said under my breath and the girls stifled giggles, earning some very pointed looks from the students around us. "Plus, I know that James Potter has an invisibility cloak on him," Ellie patted her bag indicating she already had it stowed away, "I heard them talking very loudly about it. Those boys aren't so subtle are they?" Ellie rolled her eyes. She had the most contact with those boys than us, being in Gryffindor house too, so it made sense that she had gotten her hands on something like that.

Sirius's face flashed across my mind at hearing James's name. For a second, I saw his dark gray eyes scrunch up with laughter, I felt his fingers against mine. I imagined just what would have happened if I had let my hand linger... what it might have lead to... what else his fingers could do....

"Y/n. Y/n!" I heard Ellie calling me and shook myself back to reality. "Do you need to use the cloak tonight? Maybe we can stagger when we go to do -" I shook my head. "The greenhouse is only a little bit that way and it'll be dark, no one will see me." Ellie nodded in agreement.

Callie surprised us by saying she'd already gotten her hands on her dewdrops. She merely shrugged, saying, "I have a lot of practice in 'borrowing' things and the Potions cabinet is a sitting duck, what can I say?" I nodded, impressed.

My watch caught my eye. 8:30.

"Alright girls," I made a motion to get up, "I should start heading out. It'll be dark and it looks like it's starting to sprinkle out there." Tiny raindrops were dotting the window next to us. Ellie and Callie followed suit and nodded seriously.

"Godspeed." Callie saluted me with mock seriousness.

I saluted her back, then quickly gathered my schoolbag that I had brought with me to stuff the leaf in. My nerves had suddenly turned to excitement - I had never done anything more than getting messy drunk at common room parties, maybe smoking a joint here and there and raiding the kitchen. I had been such a rule-follower my whole life - suddenly, I was excited to get my hands dirty. Hiking my bag higher, I quickly left the library, but maybe I shouldn't have been so fast. I never noticed the gray eyes watching me.

-

Sirius's POV

It hadn't even been a day since my run-in with y/n when I spotted her at the library. She and her friends - I think their names are Calliope and Eleanor? - were in a huddle, whispering furiously. I let my eyes linger on y/n as I made my way over to the only open table behind her armchair.

I plopped my bag down on the table, internally groaning. I never came to the library of course, I have better things to do with my time, but I had gotten into a small scuffle with James in Potions because he wouldn't leave me alone about y/n and gotten myself 10 points from Gryffindor and a foot and a half on the properties of belladonna. Huffing, I yanked out my parchment and quill when the words invisibility cloak and y/n's voice caught my ear.

I could barely hear what she was saying, but if I strained, I could hear her whispering, "The greenhouse... it'll be dark..."

The greenhouse? What could she possibly need to do in the greenhouse? Not only that, but in the dark? From my years of admiring her from afar, I knew that y/n isn't one to be sneaking around after hours. I kept straining my ears to catch more of the conversation without being too obvious, but all I could hear was Callie talking about some potion. Then, they all got up and I ducked my head, mind racing with ideas of what they could possibly be planning. Callie saluted y/n, and y/n started walking out of the library. I ducked behind a shelf to watch her leave, mind still racing about what she could be doing. I returned to my table and Ellie and Callie had gone too.

"What in the bloody hell..." I sat for a moment staring at my empty parchment, trying to focus my mind on this stupid paper, but gave up. I jumped to my feet, stuffed my belongings into my bag, and decided to go back to Gryffindor tower.

There was no way I'd be able to get y/n off my mind.

[floristmatt]

chris: I'm gonna be honest I almost started by saying it was me, so I don't know who it was

[harzilla]

Honestly can I admit I've been sitting on writing a full God!Yuu fic? I keep trying to turn game mechanics into God skills. I just wanna throw this out there. Sorta a ficlet? It's mostly my kind of stream of thoughts.

Imagine the guys are absolutely clueless that the "magicless" human is a god. Like a trickster god and whatever little thing that follows their amusement and they notice a weird little blip of magic one day and decides to follow where it leads.

they immediately shift into a vessel that fits the world and when Grim busts open the coffin the god realizes it's his magic they noticed. Oh? Interesting....

The dark mirror can't read their soul because the mirror is tuned into the souls of those born in Twisted Wonderland. The body? Yes. Their actual being? No. So for the first time the mirror calls a colorless empty soul since it's creation.

The god soon realizes they're in a school of humanoid mages and they can sense the different flows of magic from everybody. Allowing them to be able easily analyze what kind of magic it is, ties into the world/nature(aero, water, fire) and emotions(void/light)the self.

Our God realizes that things could get boring fast if they push their powers around and they decide to handicap themselves by only using intentional power to prevent somebody from dying. They're not particularly interested in seeing a bunch of kids die. Mortal lives are fleeting but full of fascinating things.

It turns out that Twisted Wonderland is very interesting if you're willing to see where things lead. But, they can still interfere if they do it within the limitations of a magicless mortal, right?

They also can also pick up on the emotions of mortals and the drips of blot they see are literal buildup of negative emotions starting to manifest in a physical world, very nasty little thing. But only they can see it at this point. They stick by Ace and Deuce because they know that the two will lead them to Riddle. The only one dripping blot at this point within their line of sense. They work with Ace and Deuce, so it's only natural they follow because they helped make the tart, right? They know they can only allow the overblot to happen because they limited their powers but the rancid magic wafting off Riddle makes them unhappy. Diving into Riddle's mind they gently pull through his memories and pull the threads of his thoughts in the right direction. Weakening the link to the overblot and allows Riddle's own mind to push forward and ask the question he needed to hear. This Allows Riddle to hit a breakthrough the overwhelmingly destructive negative feelings. It severes the link to the overblot completely, killing the overblot and allowing Riddle to live.

Riddle awakens and now our God slips back into the magicless human act. They know something is off and they're going to follow along because they want to see just what is causing the world to flow in the direction it's going.

The sticker system is them giving the guys blessing. Our God likes interesting things and the entire rewardable cast is their kind of fun. These stickers kind of create a pavlova effect where they feel positive energy/feelings when around the prefect. The emotions trigger the blessings they received that it boosts their magic. Thus the higher the friendship the higher the magic output

Honey? Candies? All the treats? More blessings. Increased lessons is the god blessing them with more lessons by tweaking the flow of time. They can't perceive the change unless the god wants them to.

They enjoy learning new things about everybody and seeing their progress. They like studying the different dynamics between everybody and are always curious about what's running through their head. A bunch of hormonal teenagers with way to much power at their fingertips always attracts trouble. But also they find them all endearing in their own weird ways.

Of course our god sometimes creates it's own trouble, oh my it seems the tsums felt the gods power somehow and they showed up at specifically Ramshackle? oh my how odd? The God permits it because, well it's interesting and the tsums are harmless if not as chaotic as their counterparts. Just the right kind of mischief they're looking for. Of course maybe our god might have felt a tiny bit bored, saw this adorable magical creatures by staring out into the infinite void of space, magic, and existence and was all "Visit this world please? 🥺"

I just have so many ideas for this I honestly feel like I should try to make a long fic of this idea. But I just want you to think about the absolute crisis all of them go through when they're revealed to be a god that has just let the guys do everything that has happened throughout the entire plot and events because they're amused?

But oh what fun they can have now! Now that they can mess with the guys openly. Only the ones they permit can tell anything is happening.

Pay backs fun now isn't it?

[onlydylanobrien]

New still of Dylan O'Brien as Rocky/ Roman and James Sweeney as Dennis in "Twinless". (2025)

📷©: ew.com

First look at Dylan O’Brien’s Twinless, a Sundance contender that takes inspiration from the Olsen twins

"That visceral moment of 'you look just like me' is imprinted in my formative memories," says writer-director James Sweeney.

Nineties kids are kind of obsessed with twins. And for good reason — we grew up with the Olsen twins, the remake of The Parent Trap, and Sister, Sister.

Writer-director James Sweeney takes that obsession to the next level with Twinless, his sophomore feature that will have its world premiere on Jan. 23 at the Sundance Film Festival. Entertainment Weekly has your exclusive first look at the film, in which Sweeney costars alongside Dylan O'Brien.

"I grew up in a generation that idolized twins," Sweeney tells EW. "It was very much in my zeitgeist. It was a manifestation of the perfect best friend, somebody you could share everything with. As a military brat hopping around, that was something I really craved. When I told my stepmom about what the film was, she was like, 'Oh, you used to beg me for a twin, and I had to explain to you that I can't make that happen.'"

That early fascination is evident in Twinless, which even features a scene with a character watching the Olsen twins' film It Takes Two. "That was definitely my fantasy," Sweeney says of the 1995 film. "It's like, 'Oh, one day I'll just magically run into my identical twin.' Even though they're actually not twins, they're just lookalikes. But that visceral moment of 'You look just like me' is imprinted in my formative memories."

As for Twinless, the film tells the story of a twin, Roman (O'Brien), who loses his brother, Rocky (also O'Brien), and feels like he's lost half of himself. After Rocky dies, Roman decides to stay in Rocky's Portland, OR apartment as he navigates his grief. While attending a support group for twin loss, he befriends Dennis (Sweeney), a fellow lost soul — and the two find solace in each other, forming an unlikely bromance.

"Roman and Dennis get along so well because they're both bringing their respective baggage and grief and traumas to the table," Sweeney says. "They bond and complement each other."

Sweeney is not a twin, but he did base his script on the existence of twin bereavement support groups. Though, out of respect for all involved, he didn't attend one of their meetings. "I thought it would be too much to attend," he explains. "I did order a book from their website, because I did research and read some books written by twin psychologists. One was called Alone in the Mirror, which touches on twin loss. It was written by the co-founder of the support group, and I paid $25 and they never sent me a book."

Even without that book (he tried!), Sweeney was fascinated by the psychology of twins and how that unique bond differs from those of siblings who are not twins. "I would say being a twin isn't a monolithic experience, so there's so many variations," Sweeney notes. "It also has a lot to do with how the parents reared their children and whether or not they encouraged or discouraged individuality between the twins. But there's a lot of studies done on twins because they see them as the perfect specimen."

Explorating what it means to be (and lose) a twin first attracted O'Brien to the project. Sweeney wrote the first draft in 2015, and O'Brien has been attached since 2020. But the script grabbed the actor from the moment it popped up in his inbox alongside several others his manager sent his way.

"I'm fascinated by it in terms of it being something so unique on this earth," O'Brien says of the twin dynamic. "That is one of those things that really, unless you experience it, you can't understand. Twinless support groups exist because it is a very specific loss and trauma that you need support with — losing a connectivity that us normies can't ever quite understand. That deeply resonated with me, even though I don't have a twin. I found it to be a really compelling and heart-wrenching center to this story. This tragically poignant tale of this kid losing his other half."

That, along with his love for his character, propelled O'Brien to stick with the project these last five years while the film searched for funding and postponed production in the wake of the 2023 Hollywood strikes. "It was a gut thing for me," O'Brien reflects. "I remember falling in love with Roman immediately. I read a character, and either I have that soul in me or not. Roman's somebody I know really deep down."

Sweeney was incredibly moved by O'Brien's dedication and enthusiasm for the project, a quality that was evident from their first meeting. "When I first met Dylan over Zoom, he really took ownership over the role in a way that I had never experienced with an actor," Sweeney says. "He basically said, 'I see you. I see your voice. I understand this character and his every emotion.' That gave me a lot of confidence."

For both O'Brien and Sweeney, getting to make this movie entirely on their terms was a creative reward unto itself. "The script was so fantastic and dialed in from the time I first read it," O'Brien notes. "I authentically connected to it all. It was one of those wonderful creative experiences."

But now they get to share it with the world, beginning in the U.S. Dramatic Competition at the Sundance Film Festival. Still, Sweeney says anything from here on is a cherry on top of his twin sundae.

"This was an instance where I had optimal creative control and a wonderful team championing me to do exactly the movie I wanted to make," he concludes. "I know that's a rare gift. I'm super excited for people to see the film and to find its audience. But as far as I'm concerned, I'm already content."

[starmocha]

Caleb things I am anticipating/wanting/brainrotting

Putting him in the kitty suit so I can complete my harem of catboys and not look at his weird apple pfp anymore

Panda suit when I'm feeling a little silly

Finding out the length of his towel, I will be purchasing it, yes 💁‍♀️

Caleb's secret times, particularly cooking with him *side-eye devs for withholding Sylus'*

Reminder that there will most likely be a secret time of him taking care of you while you're on your period when you're at a higher affinity (maybe possible references to the past growing up together?)

Working out with Caleb. Caleb in workout clothes. Sweating. Grunting. Panting. (Any guesses on the activity or equipment he would use? 🤔)

Study/work time with Caleb 🥺

Study/work time with Caleb in the fucking panda suit 🐼

Claw machine dates and him cheating with his Evol (plsIfeellikeheshouldhave100%accuracywiththis)

Getting angry at him when he beats me in kitty cards lol

Touching his 🍆 and slapping his 🍑

Fight wanderers, I guess 🙄 /j (any guesses on our weapon of choice? Would it be possible if the devs introduce a new weapon?)

Maybe childhood memories of him and MC?

I need him and Zayne to make references to one another PLEASE

I...also need them commenting on one another’s Moments posts....

I also need childhood memories of him and Zayne, especially since he did say they need to invite Zayne to have dinner with them....

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS-TO-LOVER THREESOME POTENTIAL, THE MORE THE MERRIER, GET THOSE DICCS GIRLIE AND WATCH ZAYNE AND CALEB FUCK EACH OTH—

❄️🍎 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Finding out who the sexy supporting side character is

His birthday message and gift to us

Caleb's birthday celebration.....it's gonna be an apple cake, isn't it 😭😭😭

Actually I need the lores for Caleb's apple...fascination? (Just like I need the lore for Zayne's aversion to carrots)

Hearing him use the nickname "cutie", "honey", "darling", or "girlfriend" in the café.

Audio messages

.........his text messages when you're absent from the game for months......

The tête-à-tête feature, but particularly the one where he would comfort you when you tell him you had a bad day

finding out he's just another loser (affectionate) like the other four freaks (affectionate) with some sort of insane habits or quirks (judging)

I feel it in my soul that his plushies is the apple one, so just imagine his chibi form wearing an apple onesie 😭😭😭

Now also imagine regular Caleb dressed like an apple. I would bite him (sexually)

Begging the devs to bring back the kitties, so 1) I can have my kitties back 2) find out what breed of cat Caleb would be 3) make him wear the ears and tail in the café

Drunk Caleb pls 💁‍♀️

He's gonna have a horny memory just like the other four. It's coming (just like he will in yo—)

[cyanocoraxx]

i know millipedes have become the more "socially acceptable" myriapod but the pitting of millipedes against centipedes i see all the time is SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. ueughhgh. i adore millipedes, i think they're neat little guys, but millipedes are hardly comparable to centipedes and it's unfair to lump them together as the "good animal" vs the "evil animal." i see countless comments online saying how ugly, disgusting, creepy, and evil centipedes are.

so, centipede propaganda:

anecdotal evidence suggests they have good memory capacity, able to remember escape routes and the location of prey. cool

they can learn to tolerate handling by humans and some appear to enjoy being petted by humans. obviously we can't ask them if they like it but if a lightning-fast worm made of knives doesn't like something it's going to tell you. a centipede just won't allow itself to be in a situation it doesn't want to be in. but obvs disclaimer: don't handle a centipede without experience and handle at your own risk. research bite reports. etc. be sensible, bites can be serious

each pede has its own temperament. some are comparatively chill and lazy, earning them the nicknames "lazipedes" while others are reactive and defensive.

they feel safest under rocks and leaves (in their banky…) if mine are stressed sometimes i just plop a leaf over their head and they settle down instantly

not all of them JUST eat other animals. some dabble in fruits too! the fruit enjoyers .

they spend a lot of time grooming their antennae. you think that sleek aesthetic maintains itself? their relaxed side esp when grooming is fascinating to see. the creature you likely only see darting away from you at 1000mph is also capable of Chilling the fuck out.

they have terrible eyesight. imagine a centipede with tiny little glasses. don't you feel better now? anyway the fact that they don't see well is part of why they sometimes react so viscerally to things. you probably would too if you were small and preyed on by big things.

centipede mothers fiercely protect, groom, and nurture their babies. they do so for longer than they "need" to in some cases. in a study a variety of pede species were found sharing nest sites in forest canopies, demonstrating a lack of negative spatial associations. this was unusual because we typically expect these guys to not be keen on sharing.

not all bites are due to "aggression" but more from using their fangs in an exploratory nature. think of them as kids but instead of hands they have fangs. it's slippery on you so i'll grab on gently with my venomous fangs. i don't know what you are yet so i'm gonna reach out and test the Texture. you smell salty, i'm gonna lick you. etc.

they are ouppies.

even if you think they're ugly they come in so many colours so there's gonna be one that suits ur taste. there's baja blast blue. ridiculously bright red. piss yellow. candy corn black & orange. if you can think of a colour combo there's probably one out there.

anyway. our empathy for animals shouldn't only extend to those we find socially acceptable or easy enough to anthropomorphize

[howtofightwrite]

Was reading through your torture tag and noticed a lot of stuff that was being said seemed to contradict things that were said on the scripttorture blog... do you have any suggestions on how to clear things up? Im not sure which things to trust

And you're asking us, because they've posted once in the last two years?

I'll admit, I have a fairly low opinion of them, and that's not directly their fault. For years, one of their fans, would regularly send some pretty incendiary asks our way. In fact, some of the less hostile ones were answered, and may be the posts you were looking at. Understandably, the ones simply accusing us of being torture apologists, demanding we redirect all our asks to their blog, or insisted that we should sit down and shut up, did not make the cut. With that in mind, please understand, I'm not going to go digging through their blog to refresh my memory, so some of this might be slightly skewed by the aforementioned deranged fan.

Look for the blog that does not constantly contradict or misrepresent their authoritative sources. Which is to say, if you actually pay attention to Shane O'Mara's work, it's basically what we've been saying all along.

If you're unfamiliar, O'Mara is a Neurologist who was (last I time I checked) working at Trinity College Dublin. He published a, frankly fascinating piece, called, Why Torture Doesn't Work, in which, he set about trying to answer why torture is an ineffective tool for intelligence gathering. O'Mara also had the misfortune of being the only expert who said anything close to the perspective Scripttorture wanted on torture.

An open secret about torture is that it is completely worthless for getting accurate information. This has been widely understood for centuries, if not millennia. O'Mara's question was, “why?”

It turns out, that the neurochemical trauma associated with torture, seriously interferes with your ability to accurately access information. For example: If you're being tortured, you can't tell your torturer where you planted the ticking bomb, because your brain literally can't access those memories.

Torture is evil. Yeah. No shit.

And, this is where ScriptTorture stops. “Torture is bad,” and Jack Bauer is an incredibly unrealistic fantasy, end of story.

Except, this is not the end of this.

Now, generally speaking, I don't blame anyone who wants to get off the ride here. Torture is an unpleasant subject, and wanting to stop at, “oh, it's evil,” is entirely reasonable... unless you want to write on the subject, or if you do political analysis and need to understand why people break out the torture implements.

More than that, this is where my academic background in political science actually comes into play. I'm not saying this as an Eagle Scout who had a couple overly enthusiastic hand to hand instructors when I was a kid. This is (part of) what I studied in college, and I have kept an eye on it since then.

If torture didn't work, you wouldn't see state-sponsored torture pop up repeatedly throughout history. It would not be one of the favorite tools of dictators and despots. However, because it does, and it is, simply saying, “it doesn't work,” isn't instructive or meaningful because it's clearly untrue. Someone is finding value in this, so it becomes important to understand what they are doing, and why they are doing it.

When you torture someone, the information they provide is basically madlibs of whatever leaked through their brain. They want the pain and stress to stop, and they'll say anything they can to make that happen. That often takes the form of what they think their torturer wants to hear. O'Mara's research does explain why they don't simply cough up the truth.

So, why do it?

Torture is a very labor intensive process. You (as an individual) can't, realistically, torture multiple victims at a time, and it is a very drawn out process. Some elements can be automated, your torturer doesn't need to be present at every moment, but they're going to spend hours, if not days, working on one victim. Worse, this is actually a technical profession. It's not like you can just pull in anyone off the street and get the results you want. (Though, technically, this doesn't seem to be as true, however, amateurs do have a shocking capacity to screw up torture. So, the point remains valid.)

The value of torture has almost nothing to do with the victim. It's about the message it sends to everyone else.

Torture is about mass coercion of the population. When you are the state (meaning, the government), and you torture someone, you are telling your citizens that you are willing to do the same to them, if they oppose you.

State-sponsored torture is specifically a tool to suppress political engagement. It is, quite literally, state-sponsored, domestic terrorism.

This even holds true in cases where the state employs torture to extract confessions from criminal suspects. The message sent into the general population is that dissent of any kind will not be tolerated, and that the state has the willingness and power to turn these tools on you if you draw their ire.

I get that this is outside of ScriptTorture's area of expertise, and in fairness, I probably would not have studied this with any intensity, if I hadn't taken multiple classes on revolutionary theory.

Torture from private organizations (which is to say, organized crime, and religious institutions, though cults and some other groups might fit this description as well), follows roughly similar patterns. These tend to do the same things, discouraging dissent, and establishing the organization as having power over the population (or community.) (The technical term would be to “establish capacity.” Which is to say, the organization's capacity to enforce its will. The same term applies to states, though in those cases, the state's capacity is often overestimated by its population. It's only when it starts to falter, for example through military defeats or serious civil unrest, that they really need the capacity boosting part of this equation.)

Zealotry or stupidity can create situations where you have a torturer (or, more likely, someone in a position of power ordering the torture) who believes that it is effectively compelling the truth from the victim. This (or amateurs) can easily lead into a distinct problem, which is that all of this has diminishing returns. Torture one person, and you send a loud, clear message. Torture ten, and all you've added to it is that you're willing to keep going. However, as you start stacking up the victims, you do start sending a new message to your enemies, that being, you're going to get to them sooner or later so it's in their best interest to respond now, mobilize and retaliate proactively, before you get to them. This means that a state which leans heavily on torture can easily instigate the civil unrest that exposes their limited capacity leading to a political death spiral. Alternately, if the state does have the capacity to put down the resulting unrest, it further reinforces their position (which does happen with depressing frequency in the real world.)

You're also going to create new enemies in the friends, family, and loved ones, of the people you tortured. This means that any organization that relies on extensive use of torture will, eventually, start tying a noose around its own neck. (Granted, there are a lot of social dynamics that I'm skimming over here, so it's not exactly as simple as “if the state tortures lots of people, it will result in increasing unrest.”)

If you want a partial citation for the above, you can (ironically) find it in a podcast interview with Shane O'Mara, when he explained why torture has been employed repeatedly through history. (Specifically I think it was episode 15 of Your Welcome, by Michael Malice. Though, I'm not 100% sure off hand.) Though that doesn't cover some of the more in depth elements I just discussed. Some of this is coming from a textbook on revolutionary theory I can't locate (it disappeared in a move a few years back.) Though that was more interested in the general structure of a state destabilizing into internecine conflict. Ironically, my preferred citation on torture, Fear up Harsh by Tony Lagouranis is mostly uninformative in this case, because his experiences were on the ground, rather than from a structural understanding of what his job was really doing. However, he does illustrate my comment about amateurs making even more of a mess, both through personal experiences with a few, and also through the eventual trajectory of the invasion and occupation of Iraq.

But of course, torture is evil... again, no shit. Was that really a question? And, I'm apparently a torture apologist for having a structural understanding of why evil people do evil things. Cool. Evil people don't do evil things because they're evil, they do them because they gain some tangible benefit from those acts, and they do not care about the consequences to anyone else. If you ask someone, “why do people do this?” and their answer is, “it's simple; they're evil,” that person is lying. They may be lying to themselves, but they are lying to you.

Why do people use torture? It's a lot more complicated, and unpleasant, than you'd expect at a simple overview.

-Starke

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[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

if it's ok can you do a bad sanses x scp child reader. where nightmare find them in her negative universe all alone trying to survive (since she lost her father and friends) cause something bad happened and takes them in as their healer (cause the child doesn't want to kill). nightmare found her when she was 7/8 years old, nightmare would see a bit of his passive self in her, and the child would be neutral with the whole situation given they have seen crazier things from where their from (and just wanted to escape their situation from their world). but is a good kid and despite not wanting to hurt anyone she would rather get themselves hurt to protect those she cares for (would literally take a hit from anyone who tries to hurt dadmare, killer, horror and dust because of their past trauma and defend them with her telekinesis). their drawbacks of their abilities is if she gets extremely hurt or looses a limb when having zero energy she can't regenerate until her stamina is helped (energy like full sleep and have food or beverage basically having good stamina) but still can't die. (this is based off an oc of mine so here is more info with a pic to help) she sometime would have her breakdowns like the others from past trauma (also her soul would be perseverance) I'm sorry for the long read i hope your ok with this and if you have any questions I'm happy to answer :3

Holy shit this took too long to write-

Featuring: Nightmare, Killer, Dust and Ted.

Masterlist

Nightmare

Ah yes. Another dumb kid for him to add to the collection.

Since you were quite useful with your healing powers and all, he took you in. Big mistake.

Nightmare now finds himself caring for another kid (the other kids are the Killer Dust and Ted), oh well.

Is very impressed with your ability to regenerate limbs.. it's... Fascinating..

His grumpy self turns into one a bit more content.

You're like a memory of himself in the past, the voice that always keeps ticking in his mind, except you are real. "I am too.."

Didn't find out about Killer bringing you into missions until Ted came furiously to him demanding to know why would his boss let a child go to mass murderer missions.

Spoiler alert, he didn't know and quickly became enraged, that's his kid, how dare Killer bring you to missions without his knowledge!?

Nightmare finds it adorable when you try to protect him, he's already a god silly, he can't die!

Dust

Stay still, he wants to study you.

He may or may not like SCPs...

Holds a notebook and pen, writing down any information he can get out of you.

Impressed with your powers, but not surprised, he knows Nightmare wouldn't take in a healer who can't defend themselves.

Watches in the shadows, if you need him just call his name.

Finds Killer's idea of bringing you to missions dumb, but there's nothing he can do can he?

You two may have time alone, and he uses that time to gossip about Killer's dumbass.

On really really rare occasions, he'll vent about his past, about the guilt he feels about his actions.

Killer

Another one to be influenced by him.

Nightmare doesn't let you near killer without supervision, that's a big no no.

He doesn't want to wake up hearing laughter with his face painted with permanent marker again.

Killer likes having someone around, especially because you can

He finds it cute when you try to protect him, you're not even to his waist! How are you going to fight a fucking god like dream?

Well, his jaw is on the ground now. "HOLY SHIT NIGHTMARE WHAT KIND OF POWERS DOES THIS KID HAVE???"

Yep, he's bringing you in missions now.

Also Killer named a cat after you.

Ted

The fact that you need to be healthy to be able to regenerate is the perfect excuse for him to cook more food.

He repays you when you heal him he makes your favorite dessert.

Ted thinks you're too naive and innocent for battle, and gets pretty annoyed every time you go in missions with them.

Even knowing you can regenerate and defend yourself it still keeps him worried, what if you run out of energy?

Also blames Killer for any scratch you get, he's the one who made you go with them so he's the one to blame.

He's the one who's with you almost 24/7, acts like an actual big brother, may even apresent you to his Papyrus.

When you defend him in an argument, he feels so fucking special, no he doesn't have tears on his eyes you're just hallucinating.

[thaltro]

Hey there! I've been following for a while bc I saw your absolutely gorgeous bad sans ref for Nightwatch and upon finding more content and context i am so excited for the comic- I love the characters and worldbuilding- I wanted to ask a few questions bc I've been loving this everytime I see new art I eat up the new meal :D no pressure to answer all of them ofc! Take your time if you need it-

Will you post the comics on tumblr or a different website?

Was there something that inspired you to make this comic/Kickstart the want to make it?

As someone who really struggles with motivation to do stuff does anything motivate you to draw and worldbuild? Or does it just come to you?

Not sure if anyone has asked this yet but do have a favorite character you made or are making for Nightwatch?

Like I said no need to answer all the questions, love your art and content! :)

Ooh a QnA ok

1) I’m definitely posting the comic to tumblr, but also on my toyhouse! I won’t just suddenly post it though, before that I’ll release pmv trailers which should be very soon.

2) for inspiration I’ve always loved horror- what started the idea of nightwatch was reading I have no mouth and I must scream, the idea of perpetual inescapable torture is fascinating, especially personalized hellscapes. I also really liked AM as a character and he heavily inspired Atrophy (I headcannon his voice to be AMs) (wait I guess it’s not a headcannon hm)

3) I love world building, im a history major and also studying sociology and psychology- I’m definitely inspired from human history and global cultures. Nightwatch’ s world building is a conglomerate of different social stratifications, but leaning heavily towards conservative religious cultures. For world building I really recommend learning history- it makes you passionate about the patterns of humanity and more aware of the tropes you can use.

But for characters it just comes to me naturally (literally) most characters are based off of my Alters haha. So a lot of them like dream, psych, atrophy, memory, killer, horror etc are all aspects of myself. As the host I hold our productivity, our ego, and our low empathy- that’s what psych is heavily based off of. Dream is based off two parts who hold a lot of of our childhood trauma and religious trauma, likewise Atrophy also is based off of alters who hold childhood trauma. When your a system you go typically through some crazy stuff, when I’m done nightwatch I plan in the future to write horror stories based off it but yeah. Aside from system experiences a-lot of the characters who will experience ableism like memory does, is based off my experience with how people treat my physical and mental disabilities.

Suffice to say, I’m an angry person and I hate the world around me. Nightwatch let’s me vent that hatred in a coherent artistic way. I have a big ego and like to think I’m an interesting person so I write stories based off that because I think it’s interesting. My hatred for pop psychology, ableism, child abuse, and religious abuse is pretty obvious in it I guess. If your struggling to write the easiest thing for me at least is to write about what you hate or are scared of the most- then develop a world around it.

4) my favourite character is Dream probably- I mean I never stop drawing him, Atrophy comes close too. Though there are alot of characters I enjoyed writing like Fresh, Dr. Fell, Dust, Epic, Error yk- I like writing comedic characters. But what I’m most proud of writing it’s probably just Psych, Dream, and Atrophy as I put an equal amount of effort into writing both.

Thanks for the questions it feeds my ego nom nomnomnom- kidding I just genuinely like not shutting up and it’s weird that people actually care to ask

[kerubimcrepin]

Liveblog: Wakfu Season 2 (episode 17)

I find myself liking Eva a lot, during this rewatch, because I really am realizing that Eva&Joris is a very interesting and insane duo to consider.

If Ankama was wiser, they'd make them friends explicitly. Oh well.

Joris watching Adamai say this (Adamai is living through his worst nightmare of the person who loved him dying and coming back without memories, this time for real): 😬💀🚶‍♂️

This seems like some sort of waiting room for the meeting, judging from the fact that all the participants (as well as Grougal, but, to be fair, he's like a baby, it's logical that he'd be present with him until the very last possible moment, before being passed on to babysitters.)

I think it's interesting that Joris is sitting quite neutrally, looking exactly at Adamai and Armand, while Qilby is turned fully towards him.

...Studying him, perhaps?

Judging from the fact that Qilby was appealing to Sadida royalty by having studied their texts, and claiming to have met their god, he seems interested in learning more about people — maybe to manipulate, maybe simply curious.

Considering Qilby's connection with dragons and millions of years worth of memory, I could wager that he can feel/see that Joris is a bit weird.

(I know I am reading way too much into this, but let me have this lmaoo.)

This is why I find it quite fascinating that Qilby (interested in studying people around him, maybe seeking an advantage) is telling Joris (an old, dragonized Bontarian deligate) about a dragon that razed Bonta before Joris was born (Arty (Goultard's Dead Dragon Husband)).

Trying to gauge if Joris is secretly a dragon? If he knows that dragon? Trying to gauge his age? His opinions? Hmm???

This is one of the most short and uninformative Joris one-liners in the whole franchise. He's so epic for the way he dodges saying anything here.

Considering the fact that Joris is 1. pretty gullable, actually, 2. generally distrustful of people he doesn't know, especially royalty, 3. sounds pretty happy about this interaction here, I think Joris's opinion of Qilby is "this is a foreign leader, and the whole thing is going to cause a lot of issues. Eliatropes' happiness is worth it, though, and also he seems nice enough. But we are not friends."

Basically, I think Qilby has Joris on his side hook, line, and sinker. Lmaoo.

HE LOOKS SO AMUSED BY THE SHENANIGANS.

Joris LOVES Sadida Kingdom.

I'm insane about Brakmar. Of course the prince of Brakmar (a capitalist hellhole) would be the only one to give a lowly servant a coin.

[wipes tear] Tipping culture is real in Brakmar because otherwise people will not survive on their wage alone. Just like in America...

While none of them are shown, this meeting implies the existence of a kingdom for every race. (I need ecaflip lore so bad...)

I love this animation error so much. How did this happen.

Sitting cutely with his hands crossed.

Guys I think Qilby might have supremacist beliefs about his people. Idk, just a hunch.

And in THIS shot, the animation error is gone.

I want so, so bad to know about whatever the Ecaflip equivalent of Cra City/Sadida Kingdom may be...

Kerubim has canonically been to Trool fair and he LOVES fishing for quaquacks, and we know this from the anniversary map commentary (despite his painful and traumatic memories from episode 48 of Aux Tresors de Kerubim. He talks in the MMO about being uneasy about quaquacks since then.)

Another error — Joris sits there quite inconsistently...

@dullard @dullard @dullard @dullard @dullard @dullard @dullard HEY DULLARD HE SAID THE LINE—-

I love this so much. He's been dealing with politics for centuries, and he's so fucking angry that he allowed himself to slip up and say something antagonizing.

This is a bunch of rich people who have not known orphanhood or living in squalor in their entire lives, talking about putting children in mines, and trying to pass off a bunch of children who lost their parents in a war like a hot potato. And one of them, from a country that his country fucking hates, says that this might lead to a war.

I think Joris, with his life story and opinions and the tragedies he's witnessed in life, must be thinking things much harsher than this. Just a hunch.

This "us" doesn't include Bonta, btw :)

While I have issues with season 4, I do like that there was some moral ambiguity to the world leaders: with hindsight, I think we can say pretty easily that Brakmar's concerns are quite valid, even if false this time.

As I've said — Joris, like Yugo and Adamai, thinks pretty simply that everyone should always do good things, and that it's so so simple to be good — you just give people what they need! :) It's literally so so simple.

And that's how he, after becoming the ruler of Bonta in Waven, got to the point of having: cannibalistic wars, using living beings as building material and weapons, having 999 prisoners of war, spies and guards everywhere, implied slavery, as well as—- [I am forcibly taken offstage]

Once again, Wakfu demonstrates that Bonta and Sadida are very closely aligned.

me and @dullard have had countless conversations about this fucking episode, and he said a lot of interesting things. Here are some highlights, which he has allowed me to include:

I literally don't even know how to put my opinions into words, besides including these screenshots.

[kokonut3953]

“You were right, it’s absolutely unbreakable!” Varian TTS x GN!Reader with an electro vision (genshin)

A/N: Hiiii! This is my first ever tumblr fic story, so it’s not gonna be great. I just wanted to say that. Please request anything abt varian x reader! (I’ll make a post of what I do and don’t do later today. It’s 1 am rn). Also, the reader is already Varian’s partner. Anyways LETS BEGIN JKNDSAJIBADSJIBSDWJIBDEJI

Warnings: None

The moment you trusted Varian enough to show him your vision, he was insantly obsessed. With your permission, of course, he ran COUNTLESS tests on your vision to try and figure out what it was made of.

“Y/n, you were right! This is absolutely unbreakable! But I can’t figure out what it’s made of…” Varian examines the vision closely. He seems to have been studying y/n’s vision for days now. Had he gotten any sleep?

“I’ve tried breaking it many times when I got it, Varian. I know it’s unbreakable. You’ve been studying for days, get to bed!” Y/n crosses their arms. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“But y/n, I have to find out what makes it! These tiny rocks hold…power! It’s like…a less powerful moonstone…and electric!” He puts 1/4 of the vision into acid. Of course, it won’t work. “Fascinating…not even acid can break it down…y/n, how’d you obtain this in the first place? Did you go find it yourself? Did someone give you it?”

“I’m not sure. I…I got into a fight. With a thief. After the whole ordeal was over, I went to my room and…it was sitting their on my desk? It was…given to me by a god.”

“A god? Sorry, a GOD?! And you didn’t mention this sooner, y/n?! A literal GOD gave you thing…mysterious rock, and you didn’t think to like- I don’t know- SAY THAT SOONER?” Varian facepalms

They roll their eyes. “I forgot, okay? It’s not MY fault I don’t remember every detail.”

Varian puffs up his cheeks. But then, he erupts into laughter. “Woah, y/n has a bad memory? What a shock. I couldn’t tell from the time you forgot what comes after 4 and needed to use your fingers.”

“Shut up, V.” They cross their arms

Varian kisses their cheek “Whatever you say. I’ll…get to bed now.”

[scaredshadowsswap]

Hey y’all, I’m cancer-free now, so I’m gonna try to get back into writing random headcanons again. Today, it’s SCP Personnel and the hobbies I think they’d have.

Clef

Clef seems like he’d be an annoyingly fast learner, which means his hobbies switch fast. One week he might be cooking, but as soon as he gets good at it, he’s gonna learn blindfolded axe throwing or something else until he gets good at that. He has a very wide skill set, especially in combat, but he can’t really stick with anything for very long. The only hobby he consistently has is movies. He watches movies and references them all the time, and hopefully you’ve seen the movie because the references convey important information. He’s also really well-read, and will make references to well known classics as well, but he usually saves those references for people he thinks are stupid and won’t understand them.

Kondraki

Kondraki is determined. Once he gets good at something, he wants to stick with it more and get better. Besides photography, he composes music. He played cello in high school, but doesn’t really play anything anymore and instead just writes music that he thinks would sound good. He also, on occasion, goes birdwatching. If anyone gives him shit about it, he will bash their skull in, but he finds birdwatching to be a nice thing to do, especially on a cold morning as the sun is just coming up and almost everyone is still asleep. He’ll take a cup of coffee with him and just watch the sky for a little bit before he has to go to work.

Shaw

What hobbies can an immortal have? All of them! Shaw speaks almost 50 languages, plays 11 instruments, and studied astronomy for a good 20 years. However, most of their hobbies are from earlier, when being immortal still seemed cool. Nowadays, Shaw is just majorly depressed and doesn’t have the mental energy to keep doing new stuff. Thinking all the time like that gets exhausting. One thing they still like doing, though, is hosting parties. They invite whoever they damn well please on the given day, and it never gets old. Shaw knows that these people are good friends, and someday they’ll be dead, so Shaw wants as many memories with them as he can get.

Glass

Glass sometimes feels like the Foundation Staff’s punching bag, and it sucks. His way of managing his feelings is through golf. He golfs, and he is really damn good at it too. Probably could’ve won some local competitions, if he was allowed to participate. He finds it relaxing to be outside in the fresh air, and therapeutic to swing a golf club. Unfortunately, it’s hard to get permission to leave the Site and go golfing during his weekends and off-days, so he jogs when he can. He’s said he’d like to pick up tennis, but you need an opponent, and it’d be weird to play your therapist in a game of tennis.

Iceberg

Iceberg’s hobby is explosives, but I think he likes baking. The warm oven offsets how cold he feels, so he used to just have the oven running whenever he was home. He likes sweets and desserts, so he decided that he might as well learn how to make cookies, and it took off from there. He’s good at it, but he’s also insecure about being perceived as “doing girly stuff”, so he doesn’t usually share the things he makes with people. He’ll usually drop off a birthday cake for people on their birthdays, but he’ll say he bought it at a local bakery or something.

Gears

Gears was always fascinated by calligraphy, but it took him a really long time to get good at it. He doesn’t have time to practice hobbies like that when he’s busy running the largest Site the Foundation has. He also likes cooking, and unlike his assistant, he’s very open to sharing food. He doesn’t really express contentment through words or expressions, but he will occasionally give food he made to the people he trusts. He’d be really good at baking if he tried due to his excellent precision, but he doesn’t like things that are too sweet, so he sticks to cooking.

Strelnikov

Strelnikov likes climbing trees and seeing if anyone notices him. To him, it’s a measure of stealth, and he likes to play a game and see how much he can learn about a person from at the top of a tree. People find this very creepy. He also can play the acoustic guitar, but he doesn’t know anything about music theory, he just kinda knows how the song is supposed to sound.

[abnormallynice]

TWEWY Joshneku City of Angels AU lets gooooooooo when you just gotta admit "who am I kidding Im never coming back to this even though I reaaally want to asdfgh I'll just post what I have"

[Wall of text of lore below~]

TW// Suicidal ideation Angels wander the city of Shibiya to lead spirits to the afterlife. They cannot be seen, unless they want to be and have no personal want of emotions or free will. They cannot feel the way humans do. Physically or emotionally.

Angel Joshua arrives to lead away suicidal teen, Neku. But he wavers and Neku decides against his decision. Joshua becomes intrigued by Neku when the teenager goes out of their way to save the life of another, when Neku was so ready to give up on their own. It's a spark of fascination for Joshua that quickly fades, as time goes on and the depressed-teen-turned-hero-friend fades to memory.

Years later and Joshua is doing the rounds in a local hospital when he spies a familiar face. Neku, now in scrubs, doing his medical residency. During a young patient's last moments, Neku refuses to let the child die and his eyes meet with Joshua's. Neku doesn't see the angel of course, but a familiar spark lights up in Josh. He begins to follow Neku's daily comings and goings in the hospital, then outside of the hospital. Despite careful (but entertained) warning from his angelic colleges, Joshua makes himself known to Neku, and only Neku.

Apprehensive and disbelieving at first, Neku eventually begins to believe this angel and they become closer (or as close as one can get to a being with little comprehension about Emotions). Neku decided on a medical career since the day he helped save a (now) friend's life. He wanted to help people but realized that the job was a lot harder on one's emotional and mental well-being. Unfortunately, you lose as many lives as you save in his profession. In talks with Joshua, Neku remembers another thing he loved to do: sing. He never had time to indulge more in this hobby, thanks to his studies but after Joshua mentions how he's got a nice voice, he begins to experiment with the idea of writing music. We also see the two try to make sense of Joshua's sudden interest in human free will, and thanks to a friend(?) of Joshua's, they locate someone interesting: a fallen Angel. He explains that when an Angel falls from Grace and obtain free will, they become human and receive all the pros and cons that come with it. However, it's not an easy thing for an Angel to do; physically and morally. Also fun fact: fallen angels can see other angels, all the time.

Regardless, Neku starts catching feelings for Joshua and the Angel finds himself mentally struggling to make sense of human attraction. It's like an itch he can never reach, much less scratch. Frustrated and unable to get through Joshua's hard shell (or understand his motives), Neku leaves Shibuya without resolution with Josh.

Joshua is an Angel assigned to Shibuya, and thus unable to leave to look for Neku. The time apart does something to him, and he feels what he believes is loneliness. Or heartache? Whatever it is, the thought of never seeing Neku again is horrifying. He does the unthinkable and Falls. When he wakes up, everything hurts. Hurts. He bleeds, his stomach turns from hunger, his eyes ache and tears stream down his face. But he's...happy. He feels exuberant joy. Joshua travels across the boundaries of his world, exits Shibuya and follows Neku's trail.

Neku answers the door to a rain-soaked, ripped clothing, feet bleeding, wide grin now-human, Joshua. He has little time to process the scene before him, before Joshua word vomits all these new sensations he's been having and confesses his feelings for Neku. How else can Neku respond but with a kiss (now that they can physically touch each other) and they spend the night together.

Neku later explains that he needed some alone time to think, so he cashed in a favor. He left to take a break, but then took the opportunity to make lemonade, so to speak. Neku used a friend's recording studio outside the city to write a song and record it. Upon hearing it, Joshua was brought to tears. It was beautifully melancholic, but hopeful. It suited Neku.

A few days on and the couple is relishing this time together... but disaster inevitably arrives. Neku leaves on a bike to retrieve some groceries, leaving Joshua behind with a "Be right back." Only minutes later does Joshua feel anxiety grip him and he knows something bad has happened. He runs the road that Neku took, finding the young man in the street, having been in a traffic accident. Neku mumbles something about a beautiful light, then dies in Joshua's arms.

The days both drag on and fly by as Joshua tries to now live as a human without the person he wanted to be human with. Despite it all, Neku had met good people and they help Joshua through his turmoil. Eventually, Joshua decides to release Neku's song to the world and it grips anyone who hears it. His life is lost, but his voice will live on and fill his (and others) world with music.

Congrats on making it this far please enjoy this [your favorite donut]

[zorosjuicymelonsx]

Finding You

A/N: Happy Valentines Day!

Dropping in with another chapter! When I'm writing this story, I honestly feel like such a Zoro scholar with how much I sit there and think about how he's feeling XD ya boy is not very expressive but he's still my pookie bear <;3

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I don't think this is much of a warning but just in case; you get a bit of acid in your throat from anxiety/shock if ya know what I mean or ever experienced it. There is some fighting but I've not gone into the whole blood thing so its just actions but I know some of you guys do not do well with blood.

Without further ado, I'll be back next week to drop the next one!

Chapter Four Previous Next

A few weeks had passed since your arrival and you managed to settle in with everyone…all except for Zoro. Since your duel with him, he’d made every effort to ignore you. From aired hellos when you greeted him passing by to moving seats away from you at meal times when you tried sitting next to him to him spending more time in the Crows Nest away from everyone.

As disheartened as you felt, you knew you couldn’t force him to talk to you. You assured everyone that you were okay. You spent most of your nights trying to wrap your head around the possibility that something could have tampered with his memory, removing all signs of you in his head. The mere thought of the endless possibilities made your blood boil and kept you from falling asleep soundly.

To keep yourself busy and away from living in your own head, you’d throw yourself into sketching; deciding to start a new project involving drawing everyone on the ship secretly and framing them to hang in the galley. You were able to draw Luffy fishing, Usopp training with his slingshot, Nami in her study working on her maps, Franky fixing the mini-Merry and Chopper taking a nap in his infirmary. You were grateful for your memory as it was getting harder to remain inconspicuous, almost getting caught by Brook whose lurking ghost form had almost given you a heart attack but not before you were able to slam your sketchbook shut and lecture him on how not to sneak (or fly?) up on people.

You’d also been spending more time with the girls on the deck lounging in the lawn chairs, the concept of relaxation foreign seeing as you’d spent so long journeying around the world. Aside from your usual training which you conducted almost every morning, you asked Jinbe to train you in fishman karate, fascinated by the art which he graciously agreed to do for you.

Today, you had planned to sketch and relax to take a break from your usual training schedule.

As you made your way up to the table on the deck, your sketchbook and pencils ready in your hands, you could hear Sanji and Nami in the kitchen quietly speaking. You moved away from the gap in the door, positioning your back against the wall with your ear inline to listen in. You knew you shouldn’t but you couldn’t help after hearing the concern laced in both their voices.

“Nami-swan, we really need to get a stronger lock for the fridge.”

“Sanji-kun, we need to make do with the supplies we have until we get to the next island which won’t be for at least another week.” Nami sighed out heavily.

You frowned at the topic of the conversation, instant guilt seeping in as you felt responsible for the food shortage. You’d outlined that Sanji probably shopped for the 10 of them, an additional person would add strain especially when an appetite like Luffy’s existed. An idea came to mind and you decided to end your eavesdropping. You moved off the wall and peered your head into the kitchen. This caught Sanji and Nami’s attention, both offering bright smiles of welcome to you.

“I’m sorry, I was listening to your conversation. i-I think I can help.” You offered a small apologetic smile.

You explained your idea to use your devil fruit ability to conjure a hole onto an island you visited before from memory that you knew you could get food supplies from. You explained that your ability allowed you to revisit places out of memory or to visit random locations but at your own risk.

At first they both sat in silence thinking of your proposition. Then Sanji protested against the idea and was adamant they could make supplies last till then. Nami counter argued and saw sense in this idea to save them time and strain. Sanji looked at Nami hesitantly before sighing and nodded in agreement.

“Is there anyone you want to bring with us?” You asked Sanji.

“Not at all Y/N-chan, I’ll get ready for our trip.” Sanji said excitedly, his eyes bore hearts at the thought of spending time with you. He danced away to the pantry to get his bags and ready himself for the trip.

“I’ll have someone near the hole ready to take the bags off you guys. I’ll brief the others.” Nami said as she got up and gave you a hug of appreciation.

You hugged her back, grateful for the opportunity to prove yourself to everyone.

You left Nami and Sanji, dropping your sketchbook off back in your shared room. You then headed to the area of the deck where you’d previously made the hole. As you took a deep breath in, clearing your mind and holding your right hand out, you envisioned the other side. You chose to picture a quiet open space of land on an island you’d visited a year ago that you knew would only be a short walk away from the market.

You wouldn’t be able to close the hole until you and Sanji were completely finished so choosing a secluded area was a must away from prying eyes.

With the hole open and ready, you turned back to the door that went below deck to see Sanji approaching you with some empty bags in his hands. Behind him, you could see Nami, Usopp and Brook holding Luffy back. You had to hold back a laugh from the kerfuffle.

With Sanji now standing next to you, you turned to him, gesturing to follow you as you jumped into the hole. As you now stood on what now appeared to now be secluded farm land, the path to the market however remained the same as you’d remembered it. You looked at Sanji who now stood next to you, smiling before pointing to the pathway as you started walking. Sanji briefly stood in awe at the hole, the coolness of the smoke clouds prickling his skin.

“Ohhh Y/N-chan is so talented! MELLORINE.” Sanji sang out, taking out his box of cigarettes from his pocket to pull out a smoke as he started walking to catch up with you. You were usually not a fan of the cigarette smell but you became quite used to it and found yourself thinking that it would be quite weird not to smell smoke from Sanji.

You briefly explained to Sanji that they would need to be swift as keeping the hole open for long periods of time would affect your energy reserve. With this, Sanji vowed to do his best, zooming past you on the path to the marketplace that could be seen from their current distance.

Meanwhile…

“Witch let go of me.” Zoro keened forward, teeth bared out and his ear hot and sore from Nami pulling him from it. He just wanted to nap. Nami stomped forward, her grip still tight on Zoro’s right ear towards the hole you left on the deck. Zoro noticed the hole, feeling a sense of panic twinge him at the thought you were behind the hole.

Both reaching the edge of the hole, Nami let go of Zoro and pushed him down to sit on the floor.

“Now you’re going to sit here and wait for Y/N and Sanji to come back. You should be grateful, your wife offered to help us out.” Nami lectured, and Zoro let out a ‘ha?’ despite being completely aware of what was going on. He’d overheard Nami briefing everyone and he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it despite feeling slightly grateful that you offered to help.

“Why do I have to do it? Isn’t it Jinbe’s turn to help anyway?” Zoro argued, rubbing his hand against his ear to soothe it.

“That's when we get to the next island and quite frankly I’m fed up of watching you avoid Y/N like she's diseased. Now you wait here and if I see you even moved an inch you’ll be sorry.” Nami threatened with her fist balled to his face before walking away, briefly turning her head back to dart threats from her eyes.

He huffed, sulking as he crossed his arms and sat cross legged against the ship. Since his duel with you, he avoided you. Whilst Zoro had accepted that you and him were married, his mind in his resolve that he didn’t want to commit himself to anything or anyone but his ambitions. What he couldn’t explain was the dull ache he felt in his chest whenever he was actively avoiding you and seeing the brief displays of disappointment that flickered on your face. He was adamant it wasn’t guilt or regret. He rarely felt those emotions and when he did, they were much stronger. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was but he chose to ignore it.

Time had passed and Zoro was feeling restless, becoming more annoyed that it was you and especially the shitty cook he was waiting on.

“Fuck this.” Zoro angrily mumbled to himself.

On a whim, he sat up on his knees and decided to crouch over to stick his head in the hole to see for himself what the hold up was. He briefly felt a chill run down his cheeks and neck as he plunged his head into the clouds of smoke.

Now Zoro was rarely surprised. He hadn’t anticipated that as his head reached the other side of the hole he would come face to face with you on the other side. His breathing halted, voice choked in his throat holding back any sound as his eye met with yours. He noticed how wide your eyes were with shock, you clearly hadn’t anticipated seeing anything come through the hole. He was so close in fact, he could feel the warmth radiating from your face onto his from the flush of pink that bloomed on the apples of your cheeks.

After a few more seconds, he quickly shot his head back out of the hole, landing on his bum as his whole face burned with embarrassment. He didn’t have quite enough time to recover his breath completely before noticing a masculine hand poking through the hole with a bag in grip. Zoro jumped into action and reached out to grab the bags, setting them to the side until all the bags were collected.

Once the bags were set and he thought it was over, out of the corner of his eye he noticed you trying to emerge through the hole, your smaller hands were gripping on the edge of the deck. He sensed you were struggling and before he could stop himself Zoro stood up, grabbed your wrists and pulled you out of the hole, bringing you to stand in front of him.

You were too embarrassed, trying your best to avoid his eye. He noticed the flush that was still painted on your cheeks. His eye traced over your features briefly, noticing the smoothness of your skin and the thick curl of your lashes. You could feel his gaze on you and eventually built up your courage to look up at him. His large frame towering over yours as your eye bore into his grey iris. Your eyes flickered to his scar, you’d been tempted to trace over it with your fingertips. You’d wondered what exactly happened to his eye but despite that, you couldn’t deny that it added to his ever-growing handsomeness.

You gave him a small smile but didn’t quite get enough time to thank him before Sanji jumped up from the hole, anger evident on his face as he walked to stand in front of the swordsman.

“Oi marimo, what the fuck were you thinking? You almost gave Y/N a heart attack with that stunt!” Sanji began shouting.

“None of your damn business cook.” Zoro bit back angrily.

You reluctantly moved away from Zoro and Sanji, their impending fight would surely go on for some time as you turned your attention to the open hole.

Once the hole was closed, you slowly sat down on the deck and laid back with your eyes closed, your attempt to hold onto the last bit of energy dissipated.

Zoro didn’t know what made his mind wander back to you during his argument with the cook. His eye had gone past the blonde hair to see you lying on the floor. Abruptly ending his petty fight with Sanji, Zoro walked past the cook to go over to you. Sanji looked back at the swordsman fuming, clearly not satisfied with the ending to their fight. Upon seeing you on the floor and realising why Zoro stopped, a quiet ‘shit’ came out of Sanji as he also made his way over to you.

“Y/N-chan, are you okay?” Sanji asked worriedly.

You looked up to see Sanji and Zoro watching you. You politely nodded, not wanting to make a fuss.

“I’m okay, I just need a min-oof.” Cut off mid sentence, Zoro picked you up bridal style and carried you over the deck towards the girls cabin ignoring the cooks swearing behind him. Zoro really didn’t understand what possessed him to do this. It was like his mind lost control and it had been pure instinct that led him to this.

You let him carry you, all your energy was spent and you were too lethargic to protest against it. You had to stop yourself from snuggling your face into his chest, remembering how much you missed being close to him. You ended up hearing a couple ‘ooos’ coming from Nami and Usopp.

‘You didn’t even know they were watching you…how embarrassing!’ You mentally groaned knowing Nami would definitely tease you about this later.

The sounds across the ship dimmed as Zoro continued to head under the deck.

After a quick wrong turn and correction in direction, Zoro finally made it to the girls cabin. He pushed the door open with his back and walked over to the first bed he saw. He gently laid you down, carefully unfastening your sword from your waist and leaning it against the bedside table. Your head hit and slowly sunk into the pillow, your head and body feeling heavy. Before you could say anything, Zoro grunted out a quick ‘thank you for the food trip’ and left the room swiftly. You couldn’t do anything but stare at the door he left. The exhaustion kicked in, lulling you to sleep for the rest of the afternoon.

After closing the door, Zoro’s grip on the door handle tightened.

‘Why did I do that?!’

Zoro thought, questioning himself.

Zoro felt overwhelmed and decided he needed a drink.

————————————- ⚔️✨ ————————————

Night fell as you slept peacefully for what you predicted was at least a few hours. The abrupt sound of breakage and shouting, hearing unfamiliar voices was what woke you from your slumber. Opening your eyes without letting yourself blink out the sleep, your adrenaline kicked in as you rushed out of bed and grabbed your sword. You slammed the door open, letting it hit the wall behind as you ran out to the deck to see the commotion. What you could only describe the scene unfolding in front of you was chaos; the Sunny had been invaded by pirates! You could see your crew scattered around fighting against the invaders, noticing one of the sails was set on fire that lit the ship in the darkness of the night.

“Oh my god.” You whispered under your breath amongst the sounds of clashes and scrapes of weapons.

Taking a quick breath, you lunged with your sword at a group of unsuspecting pirates quickly bringing them down. You felt the floor vibrate behind you from the sound of running, whipping behind you to see you were almost about to be jumped by another group of pirates until Luffy swung his stretched leg to kick them off the ship into the sea. You looked up to see your captain swinging across the ship like a monkey, truly living up to his name.

As you scanned over the rest of the ship, you saw your crew were holding their own fights until you noticed Chopper was struggling to hold his against another group of pirates. You ran towards him, shouting for him to duck as you slashed the pirates across their chests, dropping one by one to the floor. You quickly glanced down at Chopper to see he was alright, he looked shaken up with tears in his eyes filled with appreciation. Just as you were about to grab him and take him to safety, another pirate walked into your vision.

“Go Chopper, I’ve got this.”

You quickly signaled Chopper to leave as you readied yourself, the young doctor not needing to be told twice as he ran to safety.

Bringing your attention to the pirate who now stood a few feet away in front of you, you noticed he was well kept for a pirate compared to others you had met before. You couldn’t deny he was handsome, his black hair kept short, his strength illuminated through the strong body covered in fine, expensive silk. You didn’t let that distract you as you felt his dark energy practically seeping from him. He held a large, bejeweled royal blue sword in his right hand.

‘Why did he seem so familiar?’

You readied yourself, your sword held strong in your grip. You weren’t going to let him hurt anyone.

“Angel, it doesn’t have to be this way. After all, I’m only here to claim what's mine.” His deep voice resonated out as he grinned.

“Don’t fucking call me angel, who are you?” You angrily bit back as you pointed your sword at him.

“I’m Enver…we’ve met before but you don’t seem to remember me.”

“Why are you here?” You eyed him suspiciously, scouring your memory to try to pinpoint where you could have supposedly met him with no luck.

“Why, I’m here for you.” His voice exhumed confidence. You tried to swallow your anxiety down, feeling acid lodged in your throat and your heart beating faster than it ever had before.

“What do you want with me?” You cautiously persisted, trying to keep your voice from breaking.

He chuckled darkly before taking a step forward and leaning in to face you at your level.

“To be mine.”

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale x Tav Enemies to Lovers Part VIII/8

I'm cooking with gas now folks, I am locked in so I hope you enjoy this journey - if I have enough juice I'll try to extend it through the entire game arc.

Content Warning: Bullying, Anxiety, Language, Herbs (lol)

“Fucking finally,” Karlach huffed, dropping a majority of their belongings and rations. Without her, Lae’zel and Shadowheart, Tav wasn’t sure they would have made it to the Underdark. The men were utterly useless in this regard and so was she. She had many strengths - strength was not among them. “I’m not sorting through what’s what so come and find your own things. Gale what’s for dinner? I’m starving. No… I need to lie down.” 

“As always, I am deeply in your debt my good Lady,” Tav watched as Gale bowed to Karlach and collected his things from her then winked,  “I’ll be sure to make your favorite.” A pang shot through her - not one of desire or even anger. 

It was jealousy. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at her own behavior. Don’t be ridiculous, she chided, Karlach is your friend and Gale is allowed to talk with whomever he pleases… they’ve been spending a lot of time together… besides, you know who Karlach fancies and it’s certainly not Gale… you have no right to be angry after Astarion… 

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably and she turned away as hot bile rose in her gut. She shook it off and began to unpack her things. 

** 

The Underdark. She had studied its existence extensively in her time at Blackstaff and was both horrified and fascinated by its unfamiliar terrain. Their instructor would pull at the fabric of the Weave to make intricate conjurations of the Underdark’s dangerous creatures, wild mushrooms, and native fauna. Some was so startling to her that at the time she was plagued with night terrors. How embarrassing it felt to have night terrors as a teen. It had been engrained so deep that the fear still dug at her skin and she felt the surge of fight or flight acutely.   

Gale had been in that class with her. 

That grounded her a bit, the memory of his ‘know-it-all’ attitude getting him a severe bind. Gale had famously confused the Duergar and Drow and when their instructor, Flhem, tried to gently correct him, Gale persisted. What Gale didn’t realize at the time was that other than Flhem being an expert on the Underdark, Tav’s father was also an expeditionist there. 

She was intimately familiar with the Underdark and had an insatiable curiosity for it. The obsession took hold when she was wracked with panic that her father wouldn’t return from a journey. Tav turned to her fixation on learning in order to soothe her nerves. If she learned everything she could, she could imagine every possible scenario and outcome so she couldn’t be surprised. 

A wave of guilt rose in her when the rest of the memory unfolded. After Gale’s soliloquy, Tav tapped on his shoulder (he was sat in front of her) and she said smugly,  “Gale… I thought you were smarter than that,” all while pulling at the threads of the Weave to manifest replicas of the Duegar and Drow, “Or did you miss the readings? If you look to page 27...” She said while the class held its breath, “there are a number of distinctions between the two races… height being prominent among them.” As she spoke the final word, the two conjurations stood before the class and Gale flipped to the page. She inhaled deeply when she recalled the look on his face when the entire class - including Flhem - burst into laughter. Have you always been so cruel… you wretched thing… the memory weighed heavily on her, and she fingered her amulet. 

He hadn't even said anything in retort. Gale had just quietly shut the book and had turned to look back at her before he left the room. The look he gave was one she would never forget. It made her sick.

Suddenly she felt something graze her back and she jumped, swinging her arm to strike. 

Astarion’s hand caught hers and he rose a brow. A grin spread across his face. “My, my, somebody’s on edge this evening."  Tav huffed, her entire body rigid from the start. She shut her eyes and took another breath to steady herself. “Oh,” Astarion said more seriously, “Are you alright, Darling? Can I get you something?” 

Tav tilted her head curiously. Astarion? Going out of his way to ask something nice? Assuming she heard him incorrectly, she said, “Nothing a bit of Hafling Root can’t fix.” 

“Oh?” He said in a sing-song voice, “Looking to get a little stoned this evening? Far be it from me to keep you from your appetites. Ugh,” he straightened his shirt, picking a piece of lint off his sleeve. “I wish I could still experience that. I’m afraid I’d need an entire field to feel a damn thing. Enjoy for the both of us,” he looked at her and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, his voice low. “Maybe I’ll join you, still.. keep you company.”  

Tav felt the familiar rush of arousal flood her when Astation’s hand brushed her cheek. Although they had little in common and she wasn’t sure if she even trusted him, biology was a strange experience. In that same moment, her eyes locked on Gale’s - his gaze an abyss that was almost wild. The same one that made her sick all those years ago.  

She took a sharp breath and neither she nor Gale blinked. She fell into the void of his eyes, hypnotized. Had he cast hold person on her? Astarion’s voice pulled her abruptly back into her body, “Well.. you know where to find me.”  

When Tav turned back to look for Gale he was gone.