#but i thought the ONE thing that i could start now without having to wait to start the 'rest of my life' is therapy

[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

[gumii-bearr]

thinking about the first time megumi calls you a pet name.

you’d been dating for a while, a few months at that point, but he was always reluctant to use a pet name for you.

he preferred to call you by your name or the nickname everyone gives you.

but maybe it’s yuji that changes his mind.

“wait— fushiguro, you don’t call her baby? or sweetie? pookie maybe?? just y/n?”

“…that’s her name.”

but the thought lingers for weeks and he starts thinking about all the things that you call him.

“hey, gumi!”

“hi, baby,” before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“oh my god, gumi you have to see this!”

“thank you, sweet boy—“

since when did you start giving him pet names? perhaps it’s because it sounds so natural coming from you. you say cute pet names with such confidence behind them that he barely registers that you’re the only one who calls him those things.

there are a few failed attempts where the cute pet name he totally didn’t spend hours thinking about in his dorm last night, gets stuck in his throat and he just ends up hiding his red face in the collar of his jacket.

pet names don’t come naturally to megumi. before he met you, he thought pet names were sort of cringey and lame, that they sounded stupid.

but he feels so fuzzy when you say them, your smile bright and beaming, your sparkly eyes making him weak at the knees and the adorable pet name sending a jab right through his chest.

so there’s a second attempt.

and a third,

and a fourth,

before he gets it out without stuttering over his words and wishing the floor would swallow him whole because you didn’t hear him or it came out as a choked cough rather than an actual word—

“hi baby! i picked us up some pizza… i thought we could catch up on our watch list tonight.”

and megumi gulps back the lump in his throat, clammy hands clutching the material of his sweats—

“sounds good… babe.”

and you pause, a smile beaming across your face and you slowly turn to him.

“what was that—?”

“nothing.”

“no, what did you call me?”

“forget it.”

“wait, don’t be embarrassed, gumi!”

“too late, i’m going to ask shoko for her strongest shit so i can forget what just happened—“

and you giggle, tugging on his sleeve as he attempts to writhe away from you on the bed, pressing his face into the nearest pillow as you clamber over him with a cheeky smile.

“did you call me a pet name mr. fushiguro?”

“and i’ll regret it til i die.”

“oh, boo.”

safe to say he tends to stick with calling you your name or your offical nickname, but there are some rarer occasions where it slips out.

like when he’s unbelievably tired and sore from a day of sparring and missions, and he sneaks into your dorm and crawls into bed with you.

“long day, hm?”

“mm, i feel better now though.”

and you stroke his hair, “get some sleep then, ‘kay?”

“mhm… thank you, baby.”

and you just smile against his hair, he doesn’t realise what he’s said and it’s better that way, because it makes it a little more special.

[destinedfordiapers]

The Intern

This caption is for @ellieabdl, a blushy little thing. I hope you enjoy it!

You sat there frozen in place, terror washing over you.

This can’t be happening.

Pee trickled down your office chair, pooling on the floor. You just peed yourself. At work.

What were you going to do?

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it does. She walked in, that same confident smile plastered on her face.

Nobody would have ever suspected Megan was a mere intern at the office. Despite being over ten years older than her—and her direct supervisor—you were often confused for her intern by clients.

There was just something about her. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you felt the pressure her presence put on you.

Megan took one look at you, her eyes drifting down to the pool of your own pee, before walking straight toward you.

“Up,” she demanded. You obey. She inspects the damage, turning you around.

“Don’t worry, you’re okay. Give me your phone, I’ll call your husband.”

Too shocked to argue, you hand her your phone.

“Hi…no, this is Megan, Eleanor’s intern. She’s fine, well, kinda…no, no nothing serious! She just…well she had a little accident…oh, it’s not her first? Well that explains some things…great, we’ll be waiting in her office.”

She turns to you, smiling. “Your husband is on the way with a change of clothes. Just sit here, okay? I’ll make sure everything gets cleaned up.”

The next twenty minutes were some of the most awkward in your life. Megan never left your office. Finally, your husband, Jason, walks in with a bag of spare clothes.

He hands you the bag and you open it. To your utter horror, a pull-up is sitting on top.

“Eleanor,” Jason says calmly, “I think it’s time you wear some protection. This is starting to get out of hand.”

Before you can argue, Megan nods her head. “I agree, Eleanor. And Jason, I’ll be happy to help keep an eye on her. Make sure she’s not leaking and changing on time.”

That was six months ago.

Six grueling, humiliating months.

Somehow your intern now walked into your office like you were her subordinate. She didn’t knock. She just came in.

Megan walked straight over to you, telling you to stand up. And, no matter how much you wanted to argue, to stand up for yourself, you obeyed.

You let your intern—over a decade younger than you—walk into your office and check your pull-up. And if you were soggy, she’d hand you another pull-up and tell you to go change.

And your pull-up was wet far more often than before. Needless to say, your confidence was shattered. Your performance and work was slipping.

Every day, Megan would report your pull-up usage to your husband. Each day their conversations got lighter, their laughter intensified.

You loathed Megan’s power over you. The way everything she did was so effortless. She was graceful; she was strong. Most of all, you hated the way you always obeyed her.

And then it happened.

You felt a sudden, devastating urge. You needed to get to the bathroom now or you’d mess your pull-up. You wouldn’t let that happen. You waddled as fast as you could without losing control to the bathroom. As you got to the bathroom door, you felt a sigh of relief.

You were going to make it.

Until Megan opened the door. “What’s the rush, Ellie?”

It was too late. Before you could take another step—or even respond—you were squatting down and filling your pull-up.

Megan watched the whole thing, eyes locked onto you.

“Uh oh, did smelly Ellie make a stinky in her pull-up? I need to call your husband, we need to have a little chat about you.”

The next day, your husband insisted that he drives you to work over your objections. It was unusual—but so was the thick diaper between your legs.

After yesterday, your husband decided you’ll be in diapers until you can figure out your “potty situation.”

To your surprise, your husband opened your car door and told you to follow him upstairs, offering his hand.

“W-what are you doing?” you ask meekly.

“Your boss is expecting us,” he says matter-of-factly.

Without another word, you follow your husband as he marched to your bosses office, hyper-aware of the crinkling of your diaper.

You stop dead in your tracks when you see her in your bosses office. That same confident grin you hated so much.

Megan greets your husband like an old friend before everyone sits.

“What’s this all about?” your boss asks.

Without hesitation, Megan starts, “About my promotion, sir. Ellie is no longer qualified for her position, though I’m not sure she ever was.”

You look at her stunned. You move to stand up, but your husband’s hand prevents it. “No, Ellie,” he whispers to you.

Your husband turns to your boss. “Ellie is here to resign. It’s for the best. She’s clearly overwhelmed by this job and Megan is far better suited for the position.”

Your boss looks at you and Megan. His confusion gives way to a smile.

“Well, this certainly saves an awkward conversation. Megan is someone our company cannot afford to lose. And Eleanor’s performance has been, well, dreadful lately.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m happy to take over her position immediately,” Megan grins, “This is a win-win for everyone.”

Your boss nods. “But…may I ask why?”

Your husband answers for you. “Ellie isn’t made for the corporate world. She needs a slower pace in life. If she’s too immature to keep her pants clean, she’s definitely too immature to be a Senior Vice President!”

“So it’s true?” your boss asks, “I try not to be involved in office gossip, but it was all everyone could talk about yesterday.”

“Yep!” Megan answers, “Ellie had an oopsie-daisy in her pull-up yesterday. So we decided it was best for her to…move to a position more suited for her.”

“Well, that settles it,” your boss says standing up, signifying the end of the meeting, “Stick around Megan, I want to talk to you about your job after I walk Elean—Ellie—out.”

On the drive home, your husband explained exactly what your “new position” would be.

“Ellie, I love you. I’ll always love you. But things are going to change. You were never cut out for all this. I see that now. It was selfish of me to even let you try.”

You open your mouth to argue.

“No sweetie, just listen. You’re not like Megan. She may be 12 years younger than you, but she’s already everything you’re not. She’s smart, confident, and capable. I mean, she did take your job in six months—starting as in intern!”

“And what did you do while she did that? You went back to diapers. While she was taking your job, you were filling your pampers. So, if you’re going to act like a baby, then you’ll be treated like one.”

“I-I’m not a baby, it was just stress! I..”

“Oh, you’re not? Let’s see, Ellie. Babies need diapers—and so do you. Babies don’t have jobs—and neither do you. Babies cry when they’re upset or have an accident—and so do you. So what does that make you?”

You feel your diaper grow warm.

“I’ll help you out. It makes you a baby. And what do babies need, hmm? Caregivers! Babies need Daddies! And so do you.”

Your eyes grow wide.

“So from now on, I’m not your husband. I’m your Daddy. And your only job—now that you’re unemployed—is to be Daddy’s little angel. You don’t need to worry about a single thing anymore.”

Your husband—well, Daddy now—took his new role seriously. The guest room slowly transformed into a nursery. Complete with changing table, crib, and toys.

So many toys.

You found yourself losing more adult privileges every day, slipping more into the world of your second babyhood.

Your bedtime was now 7:30. You took a nap at noon every day. Your meals were served in a high chair—and never with any utensils. Your movies and tv shows were never rated above PG.

More troubling, you could swear you heard someone else in the house after Daddy put you to bed. But no matter how many times you asked, Daddy just laughed.

“Don’t worry about the adults, Ellie-welly, babies like you should be in dreamland!”

Which brings us to today.

It started like any other. Well, since your Daddy sent you back to babyhood. Daddy woke you up, changed your diaper with plenty of tummy tickles and raspberries. You ate your oatmeal in your highchair. You made your mid-morning stinky. And Daddy put you down for your nap.

All standard stuff.

You were laying on your bed, coloring and watching Bluey when it happened.

“Hi Da—!” you started, before realizing it wasn’t Daddy.

It was Megan.

“Hiya, Ellie!” Megan cooed, “Awwww, are you coloring for Daddy? Are you staying in the lines or is that still too much for you?”

“Wha-what are you doing here?” you whimper.

“Well, someone needs to watch Daddy’s little stinker while he runs errands. Babies can’t change their own diapers, silly!”

Megan reaches down and checks your diaper. “Not too wet, yet, Ellie-belly!”

You whimper like a scared baby who misses her Daddy.

Because that’s what you are.

"I can’t believe it,” Megan scoffs, “I knew you were pathetic when you hired me, but I didn’t know you were this pathetic. I mean, aren’t you like 33? Look at you! In a soggy diaper coloring on a workday?”

You look at Megan. She’s so beautiful, so sexy in a way you could never be. Not in thick, soggy diapers.

“And this room? I can’t. Well, nursery, is the better word. You even have a changing table! And look how many diapers! Isn’t it embarrassing to know you’re going to fill every single one up?”

“Or do you even care? I mean, I’d never let myself be some pamper packer while my Daddy is out fucking re—never mind.”

Despite your overwhelming humiliation, you can’t help yourself. “D-doing what?”

“Oh, honey, you don’t know? Did Daddy not tell you? Well, it does make sense, why would a Daddy tell a baby who he’s fucking? Wait…have you not even wondered? Are you THAT much of a baby you don’t even think of sex anymore?”

She’s lying. She had to be.

You blush violently, dreading the truth. You hadn’t had sex since the day you were fired. But that was just because Daddy was adjusting! Surely.

“Ellie, your Daddy needs a woman—not some baby in diapers. You understand that, right? Look at me. I’m everything your Daddy wants. I have a job. I’m potty trained. I’m mature. You’re none of those things.”

You want to yell, to scream at Megan. But the look in her eye—the menace—shuts you down.

There’s no point in trying. She’s in control. You’ll never beat her. She’s right. She’s everything you’re not.

“Now, little one, let’s find something to do before your Daddy gets home. I think it’s good for us to bond in our new roles.”

“N-new roles?” you stutter.

She just laughs. “Don’t you worry your silly little head, Ellie-welly, I’m sure you’ll figure it all out one day.”

[wosospacegirl]

And they were roommates - part 2

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: angst; hurt/comfort; reader might have a crush on Kyra ;)

Word count: 3.4k

| PART 1 HERE |

Over the next few days, Kyra and Y/n settle into a comfortable, domestic routine.

Kyra was the first to wake up each day. She went straight to Y/n’s room to check on her and give her her morning medication, along with a cup of black coffee.

Y/n didn’t like mornings, especially now with the heavy cast on her leg. Kyra, on the other hand, loved mornings, so she sat by Y/n’s bed and chatted for 20 minutes straight while Y/n nodded along to whatever Kyra was saying.

“—And that's how we’re beating Man United this weekend,” Kyra concluded after a long thought process about technical strategies that would lead the Gunners to yet another victory. “I mean, they can’t keep putting her as a winger, right?” Kyra turned to Y/n, waiting for her to nod again.

“How can you have so much to say at 7 am?” Y/n asked, hiding her face in her pillow.

“I just do, it’s a talent, you wouldn’t know it, Grumpy,” Kyra shrugged and threw herself on the bed next to Y/n, the sunlight hitting Kyra’s freckles.

Kyra was wearing tracksuit bottoms and an old, oversized t-shirt, she looked pretty, comfy, and very cuddly too.

“Will you come with me today?” Kyra asked, changing the subjects, caution in her voice.

“Where?” Y/n asked confused, her eyebrows furrowed. She wasn’t supposed to go to physiotherapy or the doctor for another two weeks.

“Training?” Kyra explained, holding her head with one hand as she rested her elbow on the mattress. “They miss you, the girls, I mean. You could go there for a few hours, talk to Alessia, Leah, Steph… I bet Win misses you too,”

“I’m not in the mood,” Y/n said, turning her back to Kyra. Y/n missed the girls, but it would be too upsetting to see them running around while she could barely stand on her own.

“You’ve said that the last three times, Y/n” Kyra sighed. “You haven’t left the house, not once, and you also won’t talk to anyone but me and your mom. That’s worrying. You can’t just wait for me to come home every day, you also need to do relaxing and fun things for yourself.” Y/n felt a pleasant pressure on her shoulder. It was Kyra’s hand.

You can’t just stay here in bed and rot, maybe you could start a new hobby! Painting, sudoku, I don’t know!””Kyra continued, using the serious tone she never used with Y/n. “You need to see people, see your friends, get some fresh air.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “And do what? Talk about how miserable I am all the time?” Y/n said bitterly.

Kyra didn’t understand.

She had never been seriously injured before, she didn’t know what it was like to just go to bed every day not knowing what the future held. Football was everything to Y/n. It was her passion, her hobby and her career. Ninety per cent of her friends were footballers themselves, her whole social circle revolved around football.

Without it, she was nothing Football’s been her thing since she was a kid. Y/n had grown up with a ball on her feet, and now it was gone, and she didn’t know if she would get it back. Right now, Y/n was nothing.

Kyra pressed her lips together and stared at the girl, trying to think of what to say.

“Go away please, I want to be alone,” Y/n muttered after the room had gone quiet.

“No,” Kyra said. “Let’s talk about this, let’s—”

“Go. Away.” Y/n snapped.

Y/n felt the shift in the mattress. Kyra wasn’t sitting on it anymore. “You can’t keep pushing people away, it’ll only hurt you even more,” Kyra said quietly. “You can’t let yourself go like that, you know how easy it is for us athletes to get depressed after an injury, I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“I’m not depressed, Kyra!” Y/n locked eyes with the other girl, anger slowly building in her chest. “I just don’t have anything! If I talk to the girls all I’ll think about is how they’re playing and I’m not.

“You don’t have anything?!” Kyra raised her voice. “What do you mean you have nothing? You’re not just your fucking leg, or your football—You’re a whole person! Just because you can’t play right now doesn’t mean you have no worth.”

Y/n remained silent as Kyra’s voice escalated. Kyra was starting to get angry with her. Kyra had never been angry with her before.

“You are injured! Your tibia split in two, of course, it’ll take some time to heal. Does that mean you have to stay in the house for the remaining months? Of course not!” Kyra’s face was flushed, and she was out of breath.

“Kyra, my whole life had been inside a pitch, I don’t know how the fuck to live without knowing if I’ll ever be in one again!” Y/n exploded, pointing at her cast “And this fucking leg hurts all the time, it’s always a reminder of how unhappy I am and how the world kept on moving while I just stay here!”

“But you don’t have to just stay here! You are the one who is avoiding the world, but it hasn’t stopped for you, it never has! Especially because you have people who care about you! You would know that if you would answered your phone when your friends called,” Kyra rubbed her eyes, tiredly.

“Why is it so hard for you to be kind and patient with yourself?” Kyra asked, looking genuinely confused, trying to find the answer to her question on Y/n’s face. “It’s so easy to treat you well, I don’t know why you find it so difficult.”

Kyra finally took a deep breath, and then another.

“Okay, I’m calm now. I’m sorry,” Kyra said, unclenching her fist. “I didn’t mean to get mad at you, I know you’re frustrated and angry right now. I just wish you’d be more compassionate with yourself and your body.

The room was silent.

“I’ll just… go then. I have to be at training in half an hour anyway,” Kyra took a step closer to where Y/n was lying, she dropped a soft kiss on her cheek. “Just don’t—rot in bed the whole day, ok? I’ll buy you some food and send it over at lunchtime so you can eat something other than crisps”.

Y/n felt her skin warm where Kyra had kissed her. She barely had time to process it before Kyra pulled away. “Okay, thank you,” Y/n whispered, she couldn’t help the blush creeping up her neck.

She should say something, she should say how sorry she was and how ungrateful she had been, Kyra didn’t complain about having to put up with her. Often Y/n felt that she didn’t deserve to have Kyra by her side and now was one of those times. She felt embarrassed by the way she just acted.

Y/n wasn’t someone who felt at ease with vulnerability. She didn’t normally let people see her at her lowest, except her closest friend, of course, but even now the thought of seeing them, of going back to Arsenal, even if for a few hours, felt excruciating.

It was as if life was mocking Y/n. Everyone’s life would go on, even if hers was frozen in time. Arsenal still had good and healthy athletes to train.

Kyra still had responsibilities to attend ttoY/n didn’t, not for the months ahead of her.

Eight months the doctor said, eight months until (and if) she could run. Would she be this bitter for that long? Was she going to stay frustrated with everything and everyone forever? Was she going to shut herself off from her teammates—her friends—if she didn’t heal the way she intended?

Change was a slow process, but Y/n decided to start it right now.

“Ky?” Y/n called.

“Yeah?”

“I’m being an idiot,” Y/n admitted.

Kyra smiled. “Yeah, you kind of are.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/n apologized. Small steps.

“It’s fine, you are a lot meaner when you lose at UNO, it didn’t scare me.”

Both girls smiled at each other.

Kyra held no grudges; it was one of the things Y/n admired the most about her.

“But if you really want me to forgive you, you’ll let me do something,” Kyra added, mischievous in her voice.

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “What?’

“You’ll see,” Kyra said before leaving the room. “I’ll be back around 3 pm, see you!”

Y/n heard the front door close, and now she was alone. Y/n thought she enjoyed being alone, but deep down she didn’t. She missed Kyra when she was away. The house no longer felt warm and comforting; instead; it felt cold and isolated.

Y/n thought about Kyra’s words; about her being kind to others and not to herself. When Beth and Viv tore their ACLs, Y/n committed herself to take their dogs on a walk every day, since the couple couldn’t walk.

When Vic got injured Y/n made sure she was left alone during the physio sessions. When Leah also tore her ACL she made sure to call her every day to see how she was doing; Leah, unlike Y/n, answered her calls.

Y/n had so much love and support around her. She needed it to allow herself to receive it.

Y/n looked around her room. It felt strange now. Before her surgery, she had thought the room was rather cosy, with its green walls and light wooden furniture, but now it felt like a prison.

Maybe Kyra would agree to put on a mattress in the living room and make it into a bed. Then both girls could just sleep there, and watch some films. It would probably bring Y/n some comfort.

..

Hours later Kyra came back from training wearing a black kit. Her hair was in a ponytail, with grass and dirt on it. Y/n wasn’t sure if it was because of their fight earlier, but Kyra seemed different somehow . Even though Kyra was all dirty, y/n couldn’t help but notice how pretty she looked. She realised she hadn’t seen Kyra with her hair in a ponytail before, she always wore it in a bun. It was nice, maybe the new hairstyle was the reason why Y/n couldn’t take her eyes off of her.

Cute, Kyra is cute.

She has always been cute, of course, but in the last few days, she looked even prettier. It’s okay to think your friends are cute. It was normal. Y/n thought to herself as Kyra bent down to take out her shoes, the black legging hugging her body. The book Y/n had in hand long forgotten.

Hot. Y/n thought. She was hot.

Maybe it wasn’t okay to think your friends were hot.

“Sorry?” Kyra asked turning to face Y/n.

Y/n widened her eyes. “What? Y/n said, her cheeks flushed. Fuck, had she said that out loud? And why did she sound so defensive? Chill out. “I didn’t say anything., she said, in a calmer tone, closing her book.

“Yes, you did,” Kyra insisted, looking at her with a smile. She let her hair out of the ponytail, letting it fall over her shoulder.

“Nop! You’re going mad, I’m afraid.” Y/n asserted, chin up.

“It must be all the time we spend together, then” Kyra raised a brow.

A lot of time together, indeed.

“Wait, is that a book? I haven’t seen you with a book for a while, I’m proud you still know your letters.” Kyra continued, a smirk on her face

Kyra was right, thought. With football and national camps, she hadn’t had time to read. It had been embarrassing years since she picked up a book. But now she had time, so she just took advantage of it.

“Haha you’re so funny,” Y/n said dryly. “You told me to do something nice for myself, so I decided to read this book I had lying around,” Y/n said, proudly.

Kyra looked dramatically surprised. “Wow, you actually listened to me? Did something happen while I was gone? Did you fall? Oh, you might have brain haemorrhage!”

“The ability you have to turn a normal conversation into a sarcastic one will always blow my mind,” Y/n said, rolling her eyes.

“Good thing I love to blow your mind,” Kyra said before realizing the double meaning of what she just said.

The girls stared at each other.

“Okay that was awkward,” Kyra mumbled, blushing. “I mean it like—”

Y/n laughed, thinking it was cute how embarrassed Kyra looked. Usually, Kyra was the one who put people in awkward situations.

“It’s all right, I got what you meant,” Y/n said, offering a small smile. “So—” She changed the subject, not wanting Kyra to feel uncomfortable. “What was that thing you wanted me to do so you can forgive me?”

Kyra looked at her watch. “You won’t have to do anything. But they will be here soon.”

Y/n frowned slightly. “Did you get that line from some horror film? Who the hell are they?”

Kyra rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun, I’m trying to be mysterious here”.

“You sound suspicious, not mysterious!”

“Oh, shut up, just sit there and look pretty, no more questions, please.”

Y/n welcomed the compliment “Why, because you won’t be able not to tell me?” She challenged.

Kyra was the worst secret keeper she had ever known.

“You know me so well actually!” Kyra said. “Stop asking questions. I’m going to take a shower, but I’ll be right back,” Kyra said before heading upstairs.

Don’t go. Y/n almost said. Almost begged her to keep that kit on so Y/n could just look at her for a few moments.

The thing was: Y/n got used to having Kyra around, not just because she needed Kyra’s help to get things done, but because she just…appreciated her presence.

Y/n was always bored to tears while Kyra was away for training or a match day, so when Kyra came home, Y/n wanted her all to herself. Which was a bit strange.

Kyra Cooney-Cross was making Y/n think of very, very weird things. She wasn’t necessarily upset about it, though.

Minutes later Kyra stepped out of the shower, wearing sweatpants and an Arsenal hoodie. Y/n welcomed the sight more than she’d ever admit. Kyra was pretty, prettier than yesterday and the day before that.

Was Y/n suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning? Could that be the reason she was fancying Kyra? As it genuinely finding her attractive and not a bets mate type of way?

Kyra was attractive, of course. But Y/n hadn’t realised just how much it messed with her mind, and mostly her body. Kyra was her friend. Not as in a friends-with-benefits thing, but oh they could be, Y/n would be happy about that.

Kyra moved in to help me out, that’s all. She doesn’t like me that way, and that’s fine. Totally fine. Y/n bit her nails, trying to convince herself.

Before Y/n could spiral any further, Kyra clapped her hands and told Y/n to get ready, because apparently, the visitors they were having over were about to arrive.

An hour later Alessia and Leah stopped by with a warm lasagna on Leah’s hands.

It turned out that Kyra was only forgiving Y/n if she agreed to meet some of their friends and socialise for a few hours. “It’ll do you good” Kyra had said.d

“Hey, pest,” Leah greeted Kyra at the door. “How’s your pest doing? She hasn’t been answering mine or Lessie’s messages for a while now, is she dead? Did you kill her?”

“Well good evening to you too, Leah,” Kyra said ironically, letting both Leah and Alessia in, after kissing Alessia on the cheek.

“Why can’t you be like Alessia, she is so nice!” Kyra pouted, pointing at the blonde girl, “She doesn’t call me a pest or anything.”

Leah laughed and handed Kyra the lasagna. “Lessie girl is too nice to ever tell you the truth.”

Kyra and Leah continued their bickering while Alessia made herself at home. The girl was very familiar with Y/n’s house, having spent many film night’s here with Y/n and Kyra before Y/n’s injury.

Alessia went into the living room, where she found Y/n sitting on the couch, crutches propped up to the side.

“Less” y/n said cheerfully.

“Hey sweetie, how are you doing?” Alessia sat by Y/n’s side, hugging her. “God, I missed you so much, you have no idea.”

Y/n smiled and leaned further into Alessia’s embrace. “I missed you too, I feel like dying every time Kyra goes to training and I have to stay here by myself., Y/n confessed.

“Oh, so you miss me when I’m away. That is so lovely to hear!” Kyra's mischievous voice filled the living room as the girl elbowed Leah, “See, I told you she wasn’t bored of me yet.”

“Take me with you, Less, please.” Y/n playfully whispered in Alessia’s ear before the girl’s body was replaced by a taller and leaner one.

Leah hugged Y/n and patted her back before lightly smacking the top of her head.

“Ouch! What was that for?” Y/n whined, pouting.

“Me, Beth, Less, Kim—we’ve all been texting you non-stop, and you won’t text us back!” Leah scolded. “We’re not just your teammates, we’re your friends, in case you forgot!”

“Tough love. Told you.” Kyra chimed in from the corner of the room.

“Shut up, Kyra,” Leah and Y/n said in unison.

Y/n kept her eyes down, feeling a little embarrassed. Leah wasn’t wrong, though. Over the past week, she’d only been texting two people: her mom—because otherwise, she’d probably sent the police down; and Kyra—so she could pick up some snacks for Y/n on her way home.

“I know being injured is hard, but you can’t isolate yourself, especially form us!” Leah continued with a gentle reprimand. “You’re only going to feel worse.”

Leah pointed at Alessia, who was now standing next to Kyra. “Lessie told me you didn’t laugh at the memes she sent you! It’s Less, mate—you can’t make Lessie sad.”

If Y/n wasn’t being lectured by her captain, she would’ve laughed at how Leah was using Alessia’s sweetheart personally to make Y/n feel remorse about being a bad friend.

“Also,” Leah continued, now turning to Kyra. “Can you imagine how hard it is to rely on someone like Kyra for updates? Yesterday, she thought it’d be funny to tell Steph one of your bone screws had come loose.”

Y/n snapped her head towards Kyra, who suddenly looked like a kid caught red-handed. “I didn’t even get screws in my surgery! The doctor used locking compression plates instead!” Y/n argued.

“Well, you tell that to Steph,” Leah said dryly. “She cried and said we should call the surgeon responsible for letting you leave the hospital with a loose screw in your leg before Kyra finally told her she was just joking and that you were fine at home.”

“I didn’t think she would actually believe it,” Kyra winced, looking away, a small blush crept onto her cheeks.

“Steph got back at Kyra, don’t worry, Y/n,” Alessia added smiling. “Kyra is now responsible for walking Win every day before training.”

“I hate walking,” Kyra mumbled.

“Should’ve thought of that before messing with Steph,” Leah smirked.

“I was just trying to lighten the mood!” Kyra groaned.

“You don’t always have to fix things with jokes,” Y/n said smiling. “But I appreciate you are—at some point— giving updates to the girls. Still, leave that to me, I’ll start texting you guys back. I am sorry” Y/n apologized, glancing at Leah and Alessia.

“It’s all right kid, we’ve all been there, injuries bring out the worst in us,” Leah said, patting Y/n’s shoulder. “Now can we please eat the lasagna Lessie has made us? I’m starving!”

“You made your lasagna?” Y/n asked, her mouth-watering.

“Sure did. I know it’s your favourite,” Alessia said with a wink.

“May you be blessed for all eternity, Less,” Y/n said with an utmost stone face. “It’s been days since I’ve had good food.”

Kyra helped Y/n with her crutches before asking, a firm hand on her lower back. “Days? I’ve been making nutritious meals for us since you got back from the hospital!”

“Putting frozen pizza in the oven isn’t ‘making nutritious meals,’” Y/n teased, accepting Alessia’s hand as she sat down on the dining chair.

“I’m trying my best here,” Kyra huffed, crossing her arms.

Y/n leaned in, pressing a kiss to Kyra’s cheek. “Yeah, Yeah, I know. And I appreciate it very much.” She smiled.” Now let’s eat before Leah passes out from hunger.”

..

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

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[mxtantrights]

Azriel is in love with you (not so secret)

There he was. The man who took everything from you.

He stands tall, basking in whatever recent glory he's found. A heavy sack of coins in his hand and a large sword in the other. You remember that sword.

That's the one he used to make you an orphan.

Azriel had winnowed you in like he said. He kept his word. And you knew that both you and him would suffer the consequences for it when you got back home.

But consequences be dammed.

You and Azriel are watching him talk to a female. Probably boasting about his kills. Probably making himself out to be a hero in the story. There's no one around right now except for them.

"We have a small window if you want to do this stealthily." Azriel says from your side.

He says it actually right into your ear. You can feel his breath on your skin. You don't even flinch though. And you don't look away from the male.

"All I need Is seven seconds." you reply.

"I'll handle the female."

And without saying anything else he disappears into his shadows. You watch as the female turns around and starts walking away from the male. Now is the time to make your move.

You unsheathe the blade located on your hip and slowly walk over to the male. His back turned to you. You go right up to him and tap him on the shoulder.

He turns around, right into your blade. His eyes go wide as he looks down. The blood slowly seeping out of him and soaking his clothes. You twist the blade and he grunts.

Grabbing the back of his head and bringing him closer, so he can hear you.

"May my entire family haunt you in death." you whisper into his ear.

Then he goes tumbling down onto the ground. A shadow comes bounding over to you. You expect Azriel to be somewhere close but after a few seconds of waiting for him you get worried.

The shadow pulls you wrist and drags you a couple of paces down the alley. There you see him, Azriel, laying against a brick wall. His lip is split, and he's out of breath.

You run over to him and look him over.

"Azriel what the hell happened?" you ask.

"The female wasn't as uninvolved as I thought." he answers.

"You should have called for me." you say.

"No, you needed to finish what you were doing. I could wait. I'm not-"

You reach out toward his face, and his busted lip. He leans forward and embraces your touch. It should shock you but it doesn't. Not after he basically confessed the other night his feelings for you.

"Don't you dare say you're not important to me Azriel, you have just given me the one thing I thought I would never have." you admit.

"I've waited a long time. I could wait a little more." he says.

You shake your head.

"No more waiting." you drop down and peck the side of his mouth.

You wrap your arms around him and winnow the both of you out of that dark and damp alley. Right into your room. You stumble with him onto the floor. No doubt alerting the house you were back home.

You didn't care about the consequences before. To hell with them now.

"Can't believe you took a beating for me" you speak softly.

"I'll be taking another from Rhys pretty soon." he grumbles.

You lift your head up and gaze at him. There's probably tons of reasons why you didn't see it or didn't know that he had feelings for you. The shadowsinger is used to espionage, hiding things and playing his cards close to his chest.

"As soon as he's done, come find me. So we can talk about what you meant. And so I can thank you properly." you say with a smile.

And he smiles right back at you.

[cherriegyuu]

whispers of desire | c.sc | part one

pairing: incubus seungcheol x f!reader  genre: smut, angst, fluff - minors do not interact word count: 7.3k summary: when you cut a deal with the demon king, the man who shows up to help is nothing like you imagined warnings: mentions of god, demons and religion, infertility, infidelity, knives, breeding kink, masturbation, creampie, dirty talking ish, begging, multiple orgarms, unprotected sex, piv, forced orgasm. jeonghan (idk, he deserves a warning too)

a/n: and finally after i don't even know how many months, i finished part one. i really want to thank @ssinboo who not only helped me brainstorm this, but who motivated me into picking it up again. @joonsytip and @nothoughtsjustfic who read it over and promised me that it was good. thank you so much to all three of you, this one would have never left my wips if not for you. i truly hope you enjoy this and if you do please leave comment, i would love to know you thoughts about it! it's 17 minutes past midnight, but i'm going to count this as a valentine's day special

You looked once again at the waiting room—the light gray walls, the black furniture, the small splashes of color here and there. It was mostly modern and imponent but dark. You felt out of place in your bright yellow sweater and almost white pants. You looked like an egg, but when you realized what you had done, it was too late. You were already in the Uber, getting the most incredulous look from the driver. 

The watch on your wrist seemed to mock you. You arrived too early for your appointment, too nervous to stay any longer in your apartment, too queasy to go to the nearby cafe and waste some time. 

You had been sitting on that extremely comfortable couch for 10 minutes, the pretty receptionist giving you suspicious looks followed by insincere smiles. You were so close to just getting up and walking out the door.

It had been a stupid idea. A desperate attempt at one last resort to reaching your dream. The one thing you wanted in life since you were sixteen. But it was, indeed, stupid. How was it possible that a man without a last name, who obviously wasn’t a doctor, could help you get pregnant? Even if he happened to have a magic dick, which you doubted, there was still no chance of you getting pregnant. The problem wasn’t on the sperm donor, it was in you. 

For years, you tried getting pregnant. During the first year you and your husband, now ex-husband, tried in the most natural way: fucked every chance you got, at the most random places, tracking your cycles every month. You knew that for some people getting pregnant took a little more time, so at first, you didn’t think much of it. You managed to convince yourself that the reason why you weren’t getting pregnant was because you had just gotten off birth control and sometimes — most times — the hormones messed up a little too much with the body.

After a year, something felt strange, and little red signs started to go off in your head. It wasn’t natural to take that long, at least according to everyone you knew, so you set a meeting with the doctor and did all the tests in the book. When the results came back and showed that you were infertile it was like the world came crashing down.

In life, many of your plans failed and many of your dreams were taken from you, however being a mother was one that you always carried with you. It was a dream that was yours, truly yours and you didn’t need anyone to make it happen for you. Of course, you couldn’t make a baby on your own, but in the end, it was always your choice. If you didn’t have a husband, you could go to a sperm bank and just choose someone.

Along with your dream, your marriage was also one that didn’t last long. After the initial shock of not being able to have a baby slowly started to pass and the fog that clouded your mind started to lift, you started to think of other ways you could become a mother.  Adoption seemed like a natural path. Your husband, however, didn’t agree with the idea, which led to many fights and eventually a divorce.

The idea of adoption didn't leave you, so you sought out ways to adopt on your own. While the adoption process in itself was excruciatingly difficult as a married person, by yourself was nearly impossible. You went to many people and asked for advice on how to proceed, how to present yourself, what to say and do in front of the social workers. All of them said the same thing “the chances of you getting approved for adoption are very low”.

Every day that went by, with each breath you took, you felt as if the dream of being a mother escaped you, like sand slipping through your fingers.

One day, like many others, you were searching for ways to adopt as a single parent when you came across a forum post talking about an unnamed man who could get anyone to do anything, even things that seemed impossible. You had snorted at the post and almost closed the tap when the word pregnancy seemed to flash in front of your eyes, like a moth drawn to a flame. After you saw it, there was no way you could have closed the tab and moved on to something different. 

You read post after post, comment, after comment, about all of these women who had gotten pregnant after losing all hope. All of them mentioned the same name, Jeonghan. There was no last name. On the very last post was a phone number.

There wasn't enough time to question yourself or your actions, the next thing you knew you had the phone pressed to your ear, setting up a meeting for later that day.

The fact that you were able to set an appointment on such short notice should have made alarms ring in your head. But the alarms only went off while you sat in the waiting room. 

You suddenly stood up and walked to the pretty secretary who was hiding behind the computer.

“Sorry, hi” you waited until she looked at you, and the same polite smile greeted you “Something came up, I need to leave… I'm really sorry”

As the words left your lips the door on the other side of the waiting room opened. A man with a kind smile and hair long enough to cover his forehead greeted you. Despite his smile being inviting, his eyes told an entirely different story. 

“Please, come in”

The little alarms inside your mind suddenly turned silent and the need to flee turned into the desire to follow him inside that office. 

You turned to look at the receptionist, who in return offered you an encouraging nod and smile.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I had some files that needed attention”

The man, who you could assume was Jeonghan, pulled a chair for you to sit on. He only let go of the chair once you were seated.

“It's okay”

His office was very similar in style to the waiting room, except for the leather chair and the industrial-looking desk. There was no computer, no bookshelf, no degree attached to the wall, just some creepy paintings that looked maybe a little too dark and tenebrous to an office. His desk was also empty of any files, phones, and pens. It was hard to believe that he was going over some files when there was nothing to look at.

“How can I help you today?”

For a second his eyes turned dark, entirely black, before going back to the dark brown color. Eyes of a snake, the words flashed in front of you. Your hold on the straps of your purse tightened until your knuckles turned to white.

It was a mistake going there.

It took an enormous amount of strength to push your body into a standing position.

“I'm sorry, I can't stay” you managed to force the words out, doing your best to smile and sound apologetic “Something came up”

Jeonghan leaned forward, his chin resting on his hand.

“Now, we know that's a lie” there was humor in his voice “You came here for a baby, so do us both a favor and sit down”

It was like your will to leave the room was suppressed by a hand pushing you down back on the chair. That same hand seemed to be holding you in place.

“See? That wasn't so hard”

The back of your neck started to grow cold, your hands sweaty. Your heartbeat with the force of a horse. His eyes turned into snake eyes once again. You felt your entire body grow cold. This time he flashed his eyes for a little more than a second.

“If you promise to be good, I'll stop holding you down” he raised his eyebrows at you, his tone almost bored now “Okay?”

It was a strange sight, a man who was around your age — or at least you thought so –, with soft features to have such eyes. Strange didn't even start to describe it, terrifying was a more precise word, and yet, you weren't scared. 

Perhaps you were at first, after all your initial reaction had been to escape, but while sitting there looking at him you were just curious.

“If you can stop with the eyes,” you used your index and middle finger to point at your own eyes “sure, we'll talk”

Jeonghan pouted but complied. In a millisecond the snake eyes were gone at the same time the pressure on your shoulders subsided. 

“You don't know how to have fun, do you?”

You didn’t bother to answer, you knew that no matter what you said those words wouldn’t make any difference to him and you were sure that your definition of fun was entirely different from his.

“So, a child. That's what you want, your deepest desire?” Jeonghan raised a hand to stop you from talking as if he changed his mind “Of course it is, you don’t have to say it”

It was the way he said it that made a shiver run through your spine. You shouldn’t have gone there. You should have asked someone else to go with you, though who could have been that person was unknown to you.

“Did you bait me into coming here?”

“Well, yeah” he laughed “I'm sure you saved that forum but if you go back there won't be much to see. Let's be realistic here and say that what you want, can be done”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. It wasn't a reaction to what he had said, it was to what you had believed. 

“You were so pathetically desperate that it was so easy getting to you” Jeonghan taunted you “Just one word, one post on a random website was enough to get you here and so fast too! Was it a couple of hours ago?”

Biting your bottom lip was the only possible way to keep your mouth shut, to keep the very much not polite fuck you in the silence of your mind. You tried to get up again, not really willing to sit there and be mocked, but as soon as you made the slightest movement you felt that hand again on your shoulder holding you down, this time much more forceful than the previous one.

“You said that we were going to talk, so, let’s talk”

“I want to go,” you said between your teeth “now”

Jeonghan tilted his head to the side, his snake eyes making an appearance again.

“Silly girl, you should have listed to your grandma when she warned you about what your wishes could bring” a sickening smile made its way to his face, paired with his eyes made your stomach drop all the way down to your toes “Now you can only leave when I saw so”

A sudden memory crossed your mind, one from your childhood. Of you sitting in your grandma’s lap when you couldn’t be older than seven. She said don’t wish for impossible things, you never know who or what could be listening. Your grandma was catholic, always with her rosary in her hand, or wrapper around her wrist or on her neck.

It became painfully obvious who Jeonghan was. From the snake eyes, the smile, how graceful he looked.

“Shit” the curse was almost silent.

He smiled once again, his eyes back to normal. It was all the confirmation you needed from him.

Nights had become a lonely part of the day, not that they were eventful before the divorce but at least you weren't always by yourself. 

Somehow you had allowed yourself to become one of those people who are only friends with their husband's friends so when the divorce happened it was obvious that most Of them — in this case, all of them — stayed with your ex-husband. You also hadn't really helped the situation when you closed yourself off. It had become too much, finding out that you were infertile, a possible affair from your husband, and the inevitable divorce. It was only natural for you to isolate yourself.

It seemed though that not many people seemed to understand it. Your so-called friends, who you cried with when the results came back, seemed to think that crying over was ridiculous, that one week was more than enough to move on from the entire thing, it's not like you don't have a life outside of this dream. 

And while all of that was true, it was much easier saying it than doing it. You felt as if you were spiraling down with nothing to hold onto, without anyone by your side. 

So, nights by yourself, with a bottle of wine and some takeout had become your new normal.

You were in the kitchen when you heard a faint knock on the door. Since visitors were few and you weren't expecting anyone, you assumed that it was on your neighbor. Someone probably knocking with a little more strength than necessary. It wasn't unusual. Your neighbor had loud and often drunk friends you had gotten used to their shenanigans during the three years you lived there.

All you did was keep doing the dishes, swaying your body from side to side with the music you had been playing in the background as you tried your best to forget that entire week and how you had willingly walked into a pile of shit but had no idea of how to get out of it.

The sound of the door opening made you close the faucet. A look at the clock above the door told you that there was no way for your neighbors to be back yet, not when you had heard them leave less than an hour before. You didn’t know why you thought that it could have been them. There was no doubt that the opened door was in your apartment.

You took a knife from the holder, wrapping your hand tightly around the handle. Your hand was still wet from doing the dishes so you held onto the knife as strongly as you could, until your knuckles turned white.

The one good thing about old apartments is that there were certain places that cracked and you knew exactly where those were, so you also knew how to avoid them. Whoever was in your apartment didn’t.

A small part of your brain hoped that it was your ex-husband. If it was, the worst thing that would happen was for you to look like an idiot in front of him, for the millionth time since you met him. Looking stupid was much much better than having to deal with an intruder or a murderer.

You took one last breath before pushing your bedroom door fully open.

“Don’t you dare throw that knife at me”

A man in a purple suit stood in the center of your room. His hair was bright red, pushed back. He looked like he had come out of one of those comic books your brother read as a child. He had your wedding album in his hand. He went through the pages, a pout in his lips and he scanned all the pictures, assessing what he was seeing.

“It’s not polite to hold a knife at your guest,” he said matter of factly.

“Who the fuck are you?” your grip on the handle tightened as if such a thing was even possible to begin with.

He turned the photo album to you, showing you a picture of yourself alone, smiling after throwing the bouquet at your wedding. It was a spontaneous picture, a true smile. That woman in the picture was an entirely different person. Looking at her it was hard to believe that you had been her at some point in time.

“You looked happier here” he pointed out, turning the album back to himself, still pouting “I don’t think she’d hold a knife at a guest”

“Who are you?” you demanded again, your voice louder, desperate.

The man rolled his eyes at you, finally closing the book and throwing it on your bed.

“Think about it, we both know you’re smart” he lightly raised his eyebrows at you “A little over a week ago you had a weird… dream? That’s what you made yourself think, wasn’t it?”

For a moment it was hard to pull air inside your lungs.

You thought that you had gone crazy. You clearly remembered getting out of the apartment, of going downtown in an Uber, of the waiting room, of talking to Jeonghan. But you didn’t remember walking out of the building or how you got home. You just… somehow found yourself back in your bed, in your pajamas in the middle of the night. The clock marked 3:33 AM.

“That was Jeonghan’s fault so I won’t hold it over your head too much. He likes to play tricks like that”

He sat on your bed, arms stretched back, thighs parted. A cocky smile on his lips and you could swear that your legs melted a little when you noticed that he had nothing under the suit jacket.

“Who are you?” you asked again, this time your voice wasn’t as loud or as demanding.

The man raised his eyebrows again and you could swear that it did something to you, tickling a place you didn’t know it needed to be tickled. He moved his chin lightly as if pointing to the knife. You sighed and put the knife down, holding it closer to your body. But that wasn't enough for the man, he pointed at the dresser. You rolled your eyes but did as asked. You didn't dare to get closer to him though. You simply crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against it. 

"I'm Seungcheol," the man said, only when he was sure that there was no chance of you stabbing him "Choi Seungcheol"

"I didn't know demons had last names"

His pout was still in place, as he seemed to be thinking of what to say next.

"We're civil enough, though me coming in without your permission might not be the best proof of character" he was quick to add when you opened your mouth to object. 

It didn't matter how much you tried, nothing came to mind when you thought about your conversation with Jeonghan. All of it was a big blank. You remembered getting there, him scaring you, the realization of who he was but nothing after that.

“The word you’re looking for is demon king,” he said. 

His eyes seemed to assess you, each and every movement you made. Seungcheol’s eyes never left you, not even for a second. When you moved to the chair on the opposite side of the room he followed you, adjusting his own body he would be seated directly in front of you. 

If your memory served you right, which at that point you had no idea, Jeonghan seemed to know what you were thinking. You were inclined to think that he couldn’t actually read your thoughts because according to Seungcheol, again if you could take his words for anything, demons too were civil and would just be way too invasive, but he was awfully good at knowing exactly what you were thinking. But then again, Jeonghan seemed to know way too much in the first meeting. Were the files he was looking at something like your life’s history? Where you were born, about your parents, your first boyfriend, your college crush, your husband, and everything that happened after?

You did your best not to focus too much on the demon king thing. If you did, your mind would take you somewhere else entirely and you weren’t sure if you could go there at that moment. Actually, you were sure you shouldn’t, especially because if you did the man in front of you, or a demon, would probably laugh. And being laughed at wasn’t something you were ready for at the moment.

“Okay,” you said slowly, exhaling all the air in your lungs all at once “Jeonghan is the demon king”

Seungcheol nodded, a small smile on his lips as he was proud of a child who had just given a correct answer. 

“That makes you…?”

“An incubus”

You closed your eyes for a second, folding your legs in front of you. Incubus… the demon who would sleep with women in their sleep and get them pregnant, and these women birthed demon-like children. 

Fantastic.

“So, magic dick,” you said, half not believing what you were saying, on how easily it seemed for you to understand it all “Great” 

That seemed to pull out an honest laugh out of Seungcheol, to the point a dimple made its way into his cheek. You couldn't help but smile along with him. 

“Something along those lines, yes”

He stood up, his eyes no longer filled with laughter and amusement. They had turned darker, hungry even. At that very second you felt like a prey under his eyes. You bit your bottom lip and he got closer to you, his eyes focused on your lips as he moved deliberately slowly to get to you. It seemed that your room was much, much, bigger than it actually was, almost like there was an entire runaway between him and you. 

You stood up as well, though that was probably a bad idea, considering how wobbly your legs felt. 

Seungcheol smiled, not in the cute and almost condescending way of before, but in a way that was much darker and held so many promises at the same time. He took your hand, pulled you towards the center of the room, walking backward.

“So, this is it? No flirting, no nice words, no dinner. Just straight-up sex” 

You hoped that your tone was light, teasing. Though there was nothing light about the way you were feeling. The few inches of your skin that were under his touch felt like were on fire. 

It had been a long time since you were with anyone, your husband was the last one a year and a half before. That wasn't to say that you hadn't found any sort of pleasure, but it had always been by yourself.

You couldn't help but wonder if part of the heat on your skin came from the lack of contact or if it was because of him. Something told you that it was a mix of both. 

“Well, you had dinner before I even got here and I thought you holding a knife was flirting”

Seungcheol circled you. The hand that held Yours suddenly pressed on your stomach, holding you against his firm chest. He pressed his nose to the crook of your neck. Giving him more access to your skin felt almost natural.

You felt his lips on the back of your neck. It started as a chaste kiss, followed by the burn of his teeth sinking into your skin and then soothed by his tongue flat over the space he had just bitten. 

“Are you a vampire?” you hoped your voice sounded steady but even to your ears it was breathy, close to a moan. The thing… the man… had barely touched you and you were ready to just melt under him. 

Seungcheol’s chest vibrated against your back and he leaned into your neck once again, now biting the other side. 

“Never met one of those, but if you want, I can become one for the night”

It suddenly crossed your mind “would he do anything I ask?” but you didn’t have it in you to ask. More than that, you didn’t know what to ask. You wanted too much but at the same time, you weren't sure where to begin. 

Slowly, Seungcheol ran his hand down your body. You felt your core tighten at the proximity, wetness slowly damping your panties. You were in a haze, one you didn’t want to come out of. 

“Tell me what you want. Whatever you want, however, you want it. It’s all yours”

It was like he had somehow heard your thoughts. Was that also part of his abilities? Magic dick and mind reading? Seemed like good powers to have. 

He nuzzled your neck again, this time placing kisses all over your skin as he slid down the strap of your shirt and continued his discovery of your skin. But your shoulder was not the place you wanted to feel him the most, it was not the spot that was craving for attention. 

Seungcheol ran his nose over your shoulder, the curve of your neck, up to your ear. 

“Ah, not so sweet and innocent after all” the hot breath over your skin made your entire body flame up. 

Finally, he lowered his hand, going under the elastic band of your shorts. He roughly rubbed his palm over your covered clit as his other hand went up to your breast, tugging at the hard nipple.

“You’re this wet and we barely even started?” he nibbled on your ear “You were all brave with that knife but all you can think about now is my magic dick filling you over and over and over again. Right, sweetheart?”

He pushed your panties to the side, his finger finally rubbing over your sensitive clit. A whimper left your lips as he was exactly where you needed, but it was far from enough. 

“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you”

He circulated your slit with two fingers. Once, twice, three times. 

“Please” you whispered. 

You felt his smile at the same time he pushed his fingers into you, your arousal more than enough to suck him in. You sucked in a moan as he picked up speed with his fingers, then another when his palm pressed over your clit adding another layer of pleasure. 

“Make that pretty noise for me again, sweetheart,” he asked, his voice low, though commanding “Let me hear you”

You tried your best to stay quiet, to not make any sound, and let the only sound in the room be the almost obnoxious noise of his fingers slipping in and out of you. But when Seungcheol found that one spot, that tiny piece of skin that made your mind almost go blank it was impossible to be silent. 

The sound coming out of you was pathetic, each new moan getting louder as you felt your abdomen cramp. The louder you got, the faster he moved his fingers. He didn’t stop pumping his fingers, didn’t stop pressing his palm on your clit, until the tide finally broke loose. 

You tried to shut your legs, suddenly the stimulation was too much at once, but Seungcheol was willing to let that happen. He kicked your feet apart, using his own knees to keep yours proudly open. 

Your orgasm hit you harder than ever before, your body convulsing in his grip, shaking as each new wave of pleasure hit you, somehow stronger than before. Seungcheol held you together until your body calmed down. A moan that could have been easily mistaken for a sob, came out of your lips, a light tremor in your legs, though you were certain that it was no longer visible. 

Seungcheol slowly guided your body towards the bed, both of his hands on your hips, steadying you. He sat you down on the bed and took a couple of steps back. He didn’t say anything as he opened the button on his suit and pulled it off his shoulder, tossing it aside on the chair to his left. 

He was teasing you, that much was obvious. Under normal circumstances you’d have looked away but as he unbuttoned his pants you couldn’t force yourself to look away. Your mind was in a trance by him, he had your undivided attention and he loved it. 

His movements were deliberately slow, a cocky grin making its way to his face as he noticed your eyes following the movements of his hands. 

The only piece of clothing covering Seungcheol was his underwear, though it did very little to disguise his erection. Your mouth watered at the sight, a nagging feeling on the back of your mind telling you to get down on your knees in front of him and take all of him into your mouth - or at least as much as it could fit anyway. 

Seungcheol laughed as he finally pushed the last piece of cotton off. You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning at the sight of him on full display. Every inch of his devilish body, in full glory, was mesmerizing. You felt you pussy clench around nothing as Seungcheol started to pump his dick. 

“We’ll have enough time to play later tonight,” he moved closer to you, standing in between your legs, his cock was close to you face that you simply inch forward and have him like you wanted, he had different ideas though “but right now I want to know what it feels like to be buried deep inside that sweet, sweet, pussy”

You reached down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. It was only when you reached for the elastic band of your shorts that you felt the embarrassment creeping up every inch of your body. 

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t hide yourself from me”

He lightly pushed you onto the bed, his knee pressing against your center and he scooped you up on the bed. He grabbed you by the hips and flipped you so that your face was pressed into the mattress. 

He pushed your shorts down, though not boring to take them off all the way down. Seungcheol straddled your legs and he teased your pussy with the tip of his cock. Running it over the slick entrance but never fully pushing it inside. 

You tried to change the position in a way to force him to just sink in but he was having none of that. He gripped your head by your hair, pulling it back until your ass up in the air, your back arched in a way that should be painful but somehow all it did was heighten your pleasure. 

“Beg” he whispered against your ear, his voice deliciously low.

“What?” you breathed out as he continued to tease you, your body moving along with his, a new whimper escaping every time he almost pushed inside. 

“I’m not going to make it that easy for you” he laughed “You wanna be fucked? I’ll fuck in ways you can’t even imagine. But you’re going to have to beg”

In any other situation, in any other moment of your life, you’d have felt embarrassed by his demand, to some extent would even have felt angry towards it. But right in that second, with the promise of what was to come, saying a few words sounded like a fair price to pray. 

“Please, please, Seungcheol” you begged, voice dripping with need and honey as you moved your hips wanting nothing more than to just be filled “just fuck me, fill me up. All of me is yours…” for the night.

He didn’t let you finish, pushing his cock into your throbbing pussy. There was no time to adjust. Seungcheol drove his dick into you again and again, each thrust harder than the previous one. He pulled your arms back, holding them against his chest with his own. 

Each sound that left your mouth was increasingly louder but you didn’t care in the slightest. Seungcheol’s grunts behind you, the slapping of his skin against yours every time he drove into you was intoxicating.

“Oh my god” you chanted over and over again

“No, no, not god” he laughed, biting the soft skin of your shoulder “He can't help you now”

He snaked a hand around your waist directly to your clit, massaging it in slow circles, in high contrast to his dick. The pressure was just perfect, his pace never faulting. 

An orgasm hit you yet again, without notice, this time not as hard as the first one, but still enough to have you shaking to the core. Seungcheol held you even tighter, his pace relentless as he searched for his own high. 

You felt his warm cum splurged into you, too much of it. 

Your body felt limp on the bed, all energy drained out of you, not a single drop left. You turned, looking at the ceiling, trying to steady your breathing, waiting for the tremors to pass when you felt Seungcheol his hand over your thigh. 

He pushed your shorts and panties all the way down, tossing them on the floor with a mute sound. He spread your legs and smiled proudly, seemingly happy with his work. It only lasted a second though, as a frown took over his features. 

“You’re wasting it, sweetheart” he tsked “We can’t have that, now can we?”

You felt his hand on your sensitive cunt and tried to flinch away but he didn't bulge. His finger grazed over your clit before he pushed them into you. You held his wrist, trying to push his hand away. 

“No, it’s too much” you shook your head, pleading “Please, I can’t, please”

He laughed at your words, pinning the hand that held his wrist over your head. Seungcheol kissed your breast, taking the nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, and blowing on it a second later, all while he pumped his fingers in your pussy, pushing back inside all the cum that had dripped out. 

“You can” you bit your lower lip and tugged at it “and, most importantly, we both know you want it”

You could only shake your head as the pleasure became too much, almost unbearable. Almost. You felt yet another orgasm build up again, like your entire body was throbbing, closing itself tightly before it finally broke free.

Seungcheol swallowed your scream, kissing your lips, neck, and shoulders as your body spasmed. Your quiet whimpers were the only sound in the room. He only pulled his fingers out of you when you calmed down completely.

“That’s it” he kissed your cheek, letting go of your hands and using them to hold his head so he could look down at you “See, I told you you could it”

Out of the possible outcomes of the previous night waking up to a mop of red hair on the other side of the bed wasn’t one of them. You were certain that when you woke up you’d realize that the night had been a dream — the most real one you had ever had in your life but that was beside the point. 

Just for good measure, you pressed your index finger to the shoulder of the man. Warm and soft skin was under your finger.

Okay, not a dream then.

You turned on your back, facing the ceiling of your bedroom. The night played vividly in your mind. The way Seungcheol pressed the first kiss to the back of your neck and how that alone was enough to make you go crazy under his touch. Not only that, how you were so willing to completely let yourself go to him, how every time he whispered in your ear, chills ran down your entire body and you could feel him everywhere.

You couldn’t help but wonder if all of your emotions had been heightened because he was…. him. A demon. Or if you were just so touch-starved that the smallest caress was enough to drive you over the edge.

Most of all, you couldn’t look past all how you had been so incredibly reckless. A random man who looked like he had gotten out of some comic book suddenly showed up in your room — mind you without using the door — and you somehow, for whatever reason, thought that it was a good idea to have sex with him. And then, as if all of that wasn’t enough, you still fell asleep by his side like it was the most normal thing in the world like he was someone you could trust entirely.

You covered your eyes with your arm, a groan leaving your lips.

There was still the whole “deal with the demon king” part that you were yet to think about.

It seemed unfair that you couldn’t remember what you agreed on. You should have the chance to prepare for whatever was to come, didn’t you? The demon king, or Jeonghan, you weren’t sure how you should address him, was well… unfair.

“Are you usually this loud so early in the morning?”

Your entire body jumped on the bed and a scream died in your throat. For a couple of minutes, you had been so lost in your mind that you forgot that Seungcheol was by your side at all.

His voice in the early morning, just after waking up, was almost made out of honey, velvety, tingling in your ears. By your side, Seungcheol had turned to you, his eyes barely open, his full lips pulled almost in a pout, a few strands of hair covering his face. You had to grip the sheets closer to your body just so you could suppress the desire to move them aside.

Your eyes moved slightly down, to his half-exposed chest. Another flash of the night before crossed your mind, of him over you, the way the chain around his neck hung just over your nose, how you used it to pull him to you again.

“You look cute when you blush,” he said with a lazy smile on his lips. You felt your cheeks warm but didn’t think it was enough to cause any visible change. 

Seungcheol folded his arm, holding his head up. The sleepy smile he gave you was the most delicious thing you had ever seen, it was enough to take your breath away all over again. You were happy that you were still in bed, otherwise there was a chance that your legs might have given in under you.

“I didn’t think you’d stay” was all you said as you swung your feet out of the bed, looking for the pajamas that were lost somewhere on the floor.

It was on the other side of the room, how it had ended up there was beyond you. You gripped the sheet closer around your body but you were only able to move one step away from the bed before you felt it being pulled back.

“You know, I already saw everything there’s under those sheets” you didn’t turn to him but you could hear the smile in his voice “In fact, I did a lot more than just look at it”

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You were certain that if you forced the sheets out of his grip, Seungcheol would have let go of it but if he did such a thing then he would be the one exposed, and while you were sure that he had no problem with the idea, everything you screamed that if you saw him naked again there was no way that you would just have a redo of the night before.

Letting go of the sheets, you walked to the other side of the room, opening the dresser drawer and pulling out a clean pair of panties and bra.

“I’m going to shower and by the time I finish it I want you gone”

Seungcheol’s laughter still echoed through the apartment when you closed the bathroom door.

You had managed to keep yourself busy enough during the weekend that you had almost forgotten about Friday night. The keyword being almost. Usually, you would have come up with an excuse to not help your sister during the weekend. She was a wedding planner, a very good one at that — she had been the one to plan your wedding — and highly sought out so it was easier to find her working than being at home.

The reason why you always declined was that weddings, while they could be wildly different from one another, there were things that were the same, didn’t who was at the isle. Two people were promising each other eternal love.

When you saw those people, standing in front of each other, eyes filled with love and hope, you couldn’t help but think about Joshua. How you had once been in that exact spot, saying similar words, how you had been happy with him for so many years until all of it came crashing down on you. The only thing that love left behind were scars that were still all too fresh but hidden enough that no one would ever see them.

Still, working during the weekend with your sister was better than staying at home and thinking about all the stupid decisions you made and how much you’d love to make at least one of them once again. She was also kind enough to let you work on the setup and then later back in the kitchen. Maybe she had some sort of sixth sense that said that you need to get out of your mind. Her call was at the right moment.

Even so, there were moments when you were on your own, in the darkness of your bedroom, when Seungcheol’s perfume somehow still lingered in the air. There was no escape then. It was like a replay of that night played in your head again and again, and everytime it it did there was a new detail that you had somehow forgotten.

It was both a blessing and a curse.

You ran your hand over your face and hair, urging your mind to just stop and let yourself fall asleep. You had a meeting early in the morning and you needed your sleep, just so you could function like a semi-normal human being.

You were in the kitchen when you heard a sound in your bedroom. Your heart skipped a beat, hoping that maybe… just maybe… You shook your head in an attempt to come back to reality. The chance of seeing Seungcheol once again was below zero. You heard the sound again and this time your heart wasn’t the only thing doing a weird flip inside your chest, you also felt chills run down your skin.

The third time the sound came you felt as if you were under a cold shower when it was followed by the sound of laughter in the hallway that belonged to your neighbor. 

It was hard swallowing the expectation that had somehow found its way into you. You weren’t even sure why you were expecting something in the first place. After that night it was clear that there wasn’t going to be a second one. Not that there was any conversation on the matter, it just seemed like the most natural option. 

If things had gone according to plan, and if your mind was worthy of any trust, apparently it did, there was no real reason why you should ever see Seungcheol again. And yet, there you were wishing that he’d just show up again, and for what? 

You set the glass of water down, wishing you could have something strong – God knew that if you wanted to sleep you’d need some help – but not wanting to risk anything. Shutting down the lights in the kitchen and living room.

Before you even opened the door to your room you felt this shift in the air. You pushed it open, hard enough that it smashed against the wall. 

“You must really love your kitchen, the second time I show up here and the second time you're in the kitchen”

You closed your eyes for a second, basking in the sound of his voice, how it made chills erupt in your skin. 

“Second time you don’t use the door”

“I’ll be sure to remember that”

Seungcheol smiled, hands in his pocket. 

“You better”

Before you gave yourself a chance to think about it, you crossed the room in two strides and pulled him to you. Seungcheol smiled against your lips before he finally kissed you. 

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog and leave a comment, it really does mean the world to me and i would love to know your thoughts. thank you! 💕

you can read my other fics here ➝ masterlist

[chibinasuu]

My Valentine | Killer x Reader

Summary: You got a mysterious note asking you to be their Valentine Tags: sfw, fluff, confession, no use of y/n, GN but written with F!reader in mind, reader wears lipstick (as many kid pirates do, of course)

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”

Your face burned in embarrassment at Kid’s boisterous laughter. 

“Well, if I had a lover,” Wire interjected, “I sure wouldn’t need a whole day dedicated to proving how much I love them. I’ll simply show them every single day.”

Wire’s unexpectedly sweet words prompted Kid to fake-gag, while you groaned frustratedly, “The point is not to prove your love! It’s a day to celebrate love.” 

“Hmm,” Kid brought a finger to his chin, pretending like he was deep in thought, “Nah, I don’t get it.”

“You’re impossible,” You sighed, “We’re pirates, our days are full of violence and fights. Is it so bad to want some romance once in a while?”

“Ugh, when did you become such a sap?”

You gritted your teeth, “Well, you’ve always been an asshole, so I’m not surprised that you don’t understand!”

You flipped Kid off and stalked towards your cabin. 

Your face immediately found your pillow, your screams of frustration muffled in the soft fabric. Of course, your emotionally-stunted Captain wouldn’t understand. It was stupid of you to even talk about Valentine’s Day to Kid, of all people.

Warmth rose to your cheeks as the image of a certain blond unwittingly floated to the forefront of your mind. 

Now, he would understand. 

You knew that he would listen to all of your blabbering, no matter the topic, even if it was something as “ridiculous” as a Day of Love tradition from your home island.

Despite his covered face, you would know that he was hanging on to your every word from the way he would offer soft hums and small nods as you talked. 

You would know that he was listening attentively from the way he would ask questions, encouraging you to tell him more about whatever it was that you were chattering about.

Without intending to, a deep sleep eventually claimed you, bringing dreams filled with manes of luscious yellow hair and fleeting stripes of blue and white.

The sun had nearly completed its descent when you finally woke up from your unplanned nap.

You were groggily stretching your arms above your head when your gaze fell on a small note on the floor of your cabin, which appeared to have been slid from underneath your door. 

You padded over and picked the paper up curiously. A gasp left your lips when you saw what was written on it in slanted handwriting. 

Will you be my Valentine? 

Kitchen. 7 pm. Wear something nice.

You couldn’t deny that your heart started to beat a little faster at the invitation, but the rational part of your brain told your heart that something was weird about this.

As far as you knew, only two other people on this ship knew that today was Valentine’s Day, and by process of elimination, you came to the conclusion that this must be your idiot Captain messing with you. 

Who else would it be from?

The brief giddiness you felt was completely overtaken by a raging annoyance. Your fist clenched so tightly that it creased the little note, and you stormed out of your room to confront the redhead.  

“Kid!” You yelled as you burst into the kitchen, “I swear whatever cruel joke you’re playing here–“

You stopped in your tracks. 

It wasn’t your Captain waiting for you in the kitchen.

“Killer?”

The Massacre Soldier – clad in an apron – had his hands frozen midway through putting a lasagna-filled baking dish into the oven. 

“Hi.” He said awkwardly, “It’s, uh, not 7 pm yet.”

You could only stare at him as the gears in your head turned rapidly, “The note… it was you?”

Killer tried not to sound dejected when he replied, “Were you expecting someone else?”

“No! I thought– Well, um,” You continued to babble incoherently, taken aback that the person you had hoped for, but certainly not expected, was the one who wrote the note all along. 

Killer closed the oven door, fumbling a bit as he took off his mitts and quickly set the timer. He reached for something on the far side of the dining table – something that escaped your notice due to your surprise at this whole situation. 

“For you.”

Your breath hitched as he handed you a simple box tied with a red ribbon. 

“Dinner’s not ready yet, but these are, so…”

You felt Killer’s eyes following your every move through his mask, observing your reaction silently. 

You open the box to reveal a row of chocolate truffles, evenly dusted with dark cocoa powder. The shapes were a little bit lumpy, telling you that the sweet treats were likely handmade by Killer himself. 

A surge of joy overflowed through you, filling your body with a delicious warmth. How did he know that chocolates were such a fundamental part of Valentine’s Day in your hometown? You couldn’t believe this was happening.

And maybe you shouldn’t believe it.

Your brain cruelly shattered the euphoria that you were feeling. 

Right. Killer couldn’t have known about Valentine’s Day. Did Kid or Wire tell him? 

Was this some kind of sick prank that the three of them were playing on you? 

Or did he overhear your conversation and felt sorry that you didn’t have someone to spend this day with?

You couldn’t bear any of those thoughts being true, but you couldn’t really think up another explanation for this. Someone like Killer couldn’t possibly want to do anything remotely romantic for someone like you… right?

“Kil, I… I really appreciate this,” you finally said, “But I swear if you’re just doing this out of pity, or, or for a joke, then–”

“Pity? A joke?” Killer spitted out, “Where did that come from? What in the four goddamn blues are you talking about?”

He sounded legitimately confused, which in turn, made you confused.

With your face buried in your hands, you finally told him about your earlier conversation with Kid and Wire. When you were done explaining, Killer simply laughed out loud at your misguided suspicions, “You got it completely wrong.”

“Well, how did you know about Valentine’s Day, then?” You grumbled defensively, “Kid didn’t, so obviously the holiday is not celebrated on Kutsukku Island.”

Killer scratched the back of his neck bashfully. 

“I, uh, accidentally got a peek at your calendar a while ago.” He admitted, “I was looking for you, and your door was open, but you weren’t in your room.”

Your face burned, remembering that you had circled today’s date and wrote ‘Valentine’s Day’ in bold letters, with a bunch of little hearts drawn around it in red ink, “Oh.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop.”

Killer shrugged before continuing, “Obviously, I got curious. So, on the next island we docked at, I went to the library and did a little research.”

A smile crept up your face at the image of your hunk of a Commander, hunched over in the library with a book.

“Did you know Valentine’s Day is not only celebrated on your home island? Quite a lot of places in the Four Blues and the Grand Line celebrate it too.” 

You cocked your head, partly out of interest at the fact he just told you, partly out of amusement that he really took the time to read up on the holiday, just because of some little hearts on your calendar. And partly out of surprise too – you had never seen the Massacre Soldier act as nervous as he did now.

His hand started fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as he droned on and on, “The holiday’s known by different names, of course, and there are a lot of different traditions involved, but the consensus seems to be that it’s the perfect day to celebrate love with your partners.”

He took a shaky breath, and hesitantly, in a voice so soft you thought you were imagining it, he said, “And that it’s also a perfect day to… confess your feelings.”

It took more than a few seconds for his words to sink in. 

Your eyes widened like saucers when they finally did.

“…You have feelings for me?” You sputtered incredulously, “Why?”

Killer chuckled at the dumbstruck expression on your face, “Why would I not?” 

You gulped as his hand reached out to brush his fingers upon your hair, grazing your ear in the process, “You’re smart, funny, beautiful, brave. You never take shit from anyone. You take care of me and the crew a lot. I love talking and spending time with you. You’re the most wonderful person I know.”

His hands gripped your shoulders, as if begging you to see yourself the way he saw you.

“How could I not fall for you?”

You couldn’t see his face, but the sincerity in his voice alone was enough to choke you up.

You were speechless, so you just stood there with your mouth slightly gaping, staring in disbelief at the man you have had feelings for forever admitting that those feelings were mutual. 

As your stunned silence went on, Killer’s hands slackened from their hold on your shoulders, and he took a step back, mistakenly taking your reaction as rejection.

In a surge of panic, and with a boldness that came out of nowhere, you grabbed his metal-clad face and pulled him back towards you, planting a kiss right where his lips would be. 

You pulled away just as quickly, letting out an embarrassed chuckle when you saw that your lipstick had left a little kiss mark on his helmet. Your hand flew to the spot, but Killer caught it before your fingers could wipe the stain off.

“Killer, I–“

“If you want to kiss me,” His voice somehow sounded lower than it was a minute ago, “You better do it properly.”

And with that, he brought your hands to the sides of his head, guiding them in lifting the helmet off.

Your heartbeat quickened to a million beats per minute as Killer’s face was slowly revealed to you. 

First his goatee, then his purple-stained lips, his pointed nose. 

Killer shook his blond mane and set the helmet aside before finally meeting your gaze.

“Kil…” You reached out as if in a trance and gently caressed his cheek, gasping at the sight of his strikingly blue eyes, “You’re so beautiful.”

It admittedly made you giddy that you had now become one of the only few select people that Killer chose to show his face to.

Hell, if the world knew what he looked like underneath that mask, you were sure that a gaggle of women and men would chase him down to the ends of the Grand Line.

Killer grabbed your waist and stepped closer to you, leaving a mere inch between your chests. Both of your hearts were thumping so loudly that it was a miracle that the other couldn’t hear it.

He leaned in ever so slowly… then stopped, leaving it up to you to close the gap. 

You tentatively brushed your lips against his, and it felt like sparks had burst all over your chest, leaving tingles everywhere. You pressed your lips to his once more, a little bit firmer this time.

Killer couldn’t hold back any longer and tugged your body flush with his. His hand traveled to the back of your head, pulling you into a deeper kiss.

Your knees felt like jelly, and you would’ve been sprawled on the floor if it wasn’t for Killer’s steady arms holding you up. 

You could taste a hint of chocolate on his tongue – he must’ve spent so much time taste-testing to make the perfect batch of chocolates for you.

Both of you couldn’t get enough of each other now that you had gotten a taste, but of course, you were only humans, so you finally parted to properly get some air into your lungs.

Killer touched his forehead to yours and grinned, still slightly out of breath, “So, does this mean you’re my Valentine?”

“Yes, you big oaf.” You laughed, circling your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace, “This year and the next, and for as long as you want me.”

The kitchen of the Victoria Punk never felt as warm as it was now, with you finally wrapped around Killer’s arms. A delicious aroma wafted from the oven, a reminder that a lovely meal for two was still waiting for you – and that your night had barely started. 

You wished it would never end.

a/n: i almost didn't finish this on time askdjksjdk i kept procrastinating because i didn’t quite know how i wanted to write killer, but i hope i did him justice! hope you enjoyed this little valentine treat, and i hope you're all having a great valentine's day, whether you're spending it with your partner, your friends, your family, or by yourself. have some chocolate and flowers from me 🍫💐

[milunalupin]

❤️ with the prompt “c’mon, like i need an excuse to spend time with you.” please!! thank you nicole ily <3

my lovely lovely san happy valentine's day !! thank you for the request ily so much <3

— do you wanna know a secret ?

remus lupin x reader ♥︎ 845 words

The air in the common room was thick with the excitement of Valentine’s Day. Some students were exchanging notes, others were planning for the dance that night, and a few were simply enjoying the sugary sweets scattered across the tables. You, however, found yourself hiding in a corner with your textbook, trying to focus on your charms homework. It wasn’t that you disliked the holiday—it just felt like a reminder of what you didn’t have: someone to share it with.

Of course, there was someone you'd like to spend it with. Remus, your best friend who always seemed to know exactly what you needed, whether it was a laugh, a kind word, or just a quiet moment together.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Remus appeared in the doorway of the common room, his messy hair falling over his eyes, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cardigan. He caught sight of you almost immediately, and that familiar, warm smile spread across his face. It was the kind of smile that made your heart beat a little faster, but you pushed the feeling away. He was your best friend, and that’s all he could ever be, right?

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft. “What are you doing all the way over here?”

You looked up from your book and tried to smile. “Just, uh, trying to get some work done. You know, not everyone is celebrating Valentine’s Day with a dance or chocolates. I’m just not in the mood for all the… fuss.”

Remus nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. “I get it. The whole day just feels like a lot of pressure, doesn’t it?” He sat down next to you, shifting a few of your books to the side. “But, you know… if you want, we could just skip all that and hang out. Maybe take a walk around the lake, or—”

You blinked in surprise, cutting him off. “Wait, Sirius isnt forcing you into another double date?"

Remus chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I wasn't really interested in her, it wouldn't have been fun for either of us."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you suddenly felt self-conscious. “Oh,” you said, awkwardly fiddling with a pencil. “Well, you don't have to just sit here with me. I mean, you could always ask someone else…”

“C'mon,” He scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “like I need an excuse to spend time with you. Besides, I don’t need anyone else.” His voice softened at the last part, and his eyes lingered on yours just a moment longer than usual.

For a brief moment, the world felt very still. There was something in the way he said it, something in the way he was looking at you, that made your chest tighten. You’d always known Remus as your closest friend, the person who could make you laugh without even trying, the person who always seemed to understand you in ways no one else could. But hearing those words took you by surprise.

You cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah,” you said softly. “A walk sounds nice.”

The two of you left the common room, walking through the nearly empty corridors. The castle seemed quieter than usual, many couples having gone to Hogsmeade to celebrate the holiday. As you reached the entrance hall, Remus turned toward you, his face more serious now, as though he were gathering the courage to say something.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice hesitant. “Maybe I haven't been as obvious as I thought, but.. I care about you, more than I probably let on. And I guess I’ve been wondering if you.. feel the same?”

Your heart raced at his words, the question hanging in the air between you. It was all so sudden, but somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

You looked up at him, feeling the warmth of the moment in your chest. “Remus,” you said softly, “I’ve always cared about you. You’re my best friend.”

There was a pause, and then, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, Remus reached out, gently taking your hand in his. His touch was warm, and you could feel the weight of everything unsaid between you.

“I think I want to be more than that,” he murmured, his thumb lightly brushing over your knuckles.

You felt your breath catch. For a long moment, you just stood there, looking at him, trying to reconcile the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. And then, with a soft laugh, you squeezed his hand.

“I think I want that too,” you said quietly.

Remus smiled, a mixture of relief and happiness in his expression. And just as the first snowflake of the evening drifted down from the sky, he leaned in, brushing his lips against your forehead in a tender, quiet kiss—an unspoken promise.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You smiled back, feeling more content than you had in a long time. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Remus.”

[igorluvr]

hi hi!! I saw that ur requests r open and I'd like a reader x platonic!thanos group

What if reader is the oldest child from a giant family so when they enter squid game they basically befriend the Thanos group and starts taking care of them!! like giving food and water or stopping fights

thankiuu!!

'THE GREATEST

PAIRING: platonic!thanosgroup x reader

SYNOPSIS: "made it all look painless, man am i the greatest?"; being from a particularly big family, you grew to love taking care of others. luckily for you, your group needed lots of guidance.

CONTENT: anxiety, gyeong-su erasure sorryy, petty ass arguments

AUTHORS NOTE: i hope u like this !!! once again its kinda short sorryyyy

word count: [1.4k]

YOUR team was nothing short of a disaster. Of course, you loved them, but their immaturity was exhausting. Half the group lacked common sense, while the other half seemed too lost in their own worlds to care. Fortunately, you had experience managing chaos and knew just how to handle the situation.

Growing up as the oldest in a large family, you practically took on the role of a third parent. When your mom was sick or dad was at work, it was your responsibility to step in and keep everything together. Even though you often complained about it, you wouldn't change those experiences for the world.

Taking care of your siblings shaped you into who you are today. You matured quickly, learning when to speak up and how to look after those around you. A deep-rooted instinct to protect and support others became part of your identity.

Meeting this group felt perfect for you. Without your guidance, they’d be lost. You loved looking out for them, even if there were many times that made you long for a little more maturity. Unfortunately, you knew those moments of calm and composure were nothing but hopeless dreams.

"Shut up, bitch." came a sharp voice, snatching you away from your thoughts.

You turned to see Nam-gyu, who had a notorious habit of throwing around insults without thinking. Thankfully, he hadn’t directed any at you personally. Sensing that the exchange could escalate, you quickly stepped in.

"Hey, no. We're not doing this. What happened?" you asked, surveying the group. They just stared blankly, not a thought in their mind. Se-mi chuckled softly and looked away, giving away that she was the one he’d yelled at.

Nam-gyu was the first to speak up. "This whore got smart with me. I was just telling Min-su to count the players, then she had to get in the way of our conversation.”

“Y’know it wasn’t much of a conversation to begin with. You were ordering him around like a puppy” Se-mi interrupted, annoyance creeping into her voice. The two of them had a thing for starting arguments, given their short tempers and quick tongues. Still, you felt it was necessary to listen to both sides, no matter how petty the situation was.

"You're the one who started it by calling me stupid!" Nam-gyu shot back, his voice rising as he sat up straighter. You shot him a warning glare, urging him to diffuse the situation.

"I didn’t say you were stupid, I asked if you were. But now I think you might actually be…" Se-mi added, infuriating him further. Nam-gyu sprang to his feet, ready to lash out, but you swiftly stepped between them, pushing him back down.

You swallowed your frustration and forced a smile, determined to maintain some kind of peace. "You both just misunderstood each other, simple as that. I would say to put this behind you, but we both know that's not happening... so apologize, both of you."

Se-mi scrunched her face in disbelief. "Why do I have to apologize? He’s just a whiny tweaker I swear" she muttered, the last part barely audible. You knew her words rang true, but he would never apologize unless she did first.

"Fine, I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t trying to call you stupid." Se-mi admitted, tone forced. Turning to Nam-gyu, you waited expectantly for his response.

"Sorry too, I guess," he shrugged, a hint of annoyance in his voice. Neither apology sounded genuine, but it was better than nothing.

You smiled sweetly at both of them and returned to your spot, relieved that the argument had been defused—at least for now. It was always a hassle to keep them from fighting, but it was a small price to pay that came with being associated to them.

After an uneventful hour filled with silly conversations and occasional naps, it was finally time to eat. It seemed that each passing day, the meals grew lower in quality. You considered bringing it up, but you knew that everyone had enough to deal with already.

Instead, you made sure the group lined up closely together to receive their food, one by one. You could barely call it a meal, but it was enough to get by.

"This isn’t even enough food for a baby, what do they expect us to do with this?" Nam-gyu complained, his relentless negativity shining.

“It’s enough to make it through the night. Better than nothing, right?” you countered with an encouraging smile. He lazily shrugged in response, groaning as he took a bite of the pastry.

Averting your gaze, you noticed Thanos hadn’t touched his food at all. He sat there, staring blankly into the distance. His pupils were dilated, and his mouth hung open in a daze. Rolling your eyes at his ignorance, you knew he still needed to eat, regardless of the drugs clouding his mind.

“Hey, Thanos. You should hurry and eat," you said gently, tapping him on the shoulder. Slowly, his attention turned to you, his eyes still glazed over.

“Nah. Not hungry,” he replied, his voice heavy with drowsiness. Your heart ached. You knew the substances were a coping mechanism for everything going on. You wanted to steer him away from them, but that was well out of your control.

You regarded him with sympathetic eyes, genuinely worried for his health. "Okay, but at least try to eat a little. You might not feel hungry now, but you definitely will in the middle of the night."

He squinted at you, the weight of your words seeming to register slowly. The silence hung heavily between you until he finally spoke.

"Alright, can I get your milk?" he asked nonchalantly. Surprised of the sudden change of mind, you handed over your carton without hesitation, being grateful he was putting effort into looking after himself.

The others continued to eat at their own pace, and a sense of relief washed over you at the sight of them all managing to stay healthy. Gathering all the empty containers and dirty utensils, you returned to your bunks to find a heartwarming scene unfolding before you.

Thanos and Nam-gyu were huddled together in one bunk, gossiping about someone; a pregnant girl and her boyfriend. Meanwhile, Min-su and Se-mi huddled in the bunk below, laughing about something you couldn’t quite make out.

Watching them bond brought a smile to your face. Sure, there were bad days, but moments like these made it all worth it. Suddenly, you heard someone call your name from above.

Looking up, your eyes met with Thanos’. “C’mere, need your opinion on something,” he said. You knew it would likely be stupid, but you had nothing else to do. Climbing up to their bunk, you sat criss-crossed and paid full attention to them.

“See them?” Thanos said, pointing to a couple nearby. One with bangs and a baby bump, the other taller with a slight bruise on his face. You nodded, urging them to continue.

“You think they’re a thing? They’re arguing, maybe he knocked up another girl too,” Nam-gyu inspected. Looking at them in confusion, you were unsure why they told you to come up just to ask that.

“You’re good at reading people, can you tell?” Thanos leaned in closer, his curiosity obvious. Observing the couple, you came to a quick conclusion.

“They’re probably arguing because he wants to spend his money on bitcoin instead of her baby. I mean, isn’t that the dude that made you go in debt?” They both stared harder, eyes blowing wide in realization.

Their faces twisted into frowns of anger, and you quickly recognized that they had been unaware of who that was. “I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch” Thanos snarled, jumping out of the bed and darting toward the couple.

Before you could process what was happening, you chased after him, attempting to stop him before he made a grave mistake. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you searched his eyes, pleading him to calm down. His expression softened slightly as he muttered a curse under his breath and slumped back to his bunk.

Eventually, everything died down and it was time to go to sleep. You always stayed up longer than everyone else, just to be sure nothing irregular occurred during the night. Usually you were the only one up, but that wasn’t the case this time.

Behind you, a small voice called your name. You turned to see Min-su staring up at you, his eyes glossy and low with fear. Instantly, your mood shifted from agitation to concern. He looked so scared.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, the worry evident in your tone. You quickly observed that Min-su suffered from severe anxiety throughout your days of knowing him, often staring into space rather than drifting off to sleep. The fact that he spoke up made your heart race.

“I can’t sleep. I’m scared,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear. You rubbed his shoulder gently in an attempt to comfort him. “Scared of what?” you asked softly.

He hesitated before answering, “I- I don’t want to keep playing these games. But I don’t want Thanos or Nam-gyu to be mad at me.” His confession hit hard. You knew how much they pressured him to play ‘one more game’

Your heart softened at his vulnerability, searching for the right words. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. They’re both blown out of this world with drugs, so anything they say is probably bad advice.”

Min-su gave a tentative smile at your encouragement. “Don’t think about it too much, get some sleep so you can have energy for tomorrow, okay?” you added, hoping to give him a sense of security. After thanking you, he climbed back into his bed with a shy grin.

As you settled into your own bunk, you felt the familiar quietness swallow you. You were used to these moments of stillness, you found comfort in it rather than uncertainty. The quietness rocked you to sleep, preparing you for the days to come.

[bcksbarnes]

some assembly required

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: you move into a new apartment and need bucky to help build a piece of furniture

word count: 1.2K

genre: fluff, laughing!bucky

a/n: trying to get back into writing so enjoy this little one shot

“there you are.” you huff as the door swings open. bucky stands on the other side, his arms crossed over his chest as if he’s been inconvenienced by waiting for you to answer. 

“you told me to be here at eight, i’m five minutes early.” he mutters, shaking his head as he drops his arms to his side, his hands resting on his hips. “do you need my help or not?” 

you can tell he’s joking, and you roll your eyes dramatically, making sure he sees the smile on your face as you take a step back so he can walk through the door and into your apartment.  

it was fate that you found this place a few weeks ago, a new apartment, a new start, but the moving process has been slow. finding time to unpack and decorate between working has been a total nightmare and the mere thought of taking time to put together furniture has your head in a tizzy. that’s how you roped bucky into helping you. a few texts and a few pouting photos was enough for him to reluctantly agree. 

“did you bring the tools?” you ask as you lead him further into the apartment near where your couch was.  

“who moves into an apartment without tools?” bucky asks as he holds up the toolbox you had requested. “you’re an adult, you should own these things.” 

“and miss out on quality time with you, buck? i don’t think so.” 

you manage to make him roll his eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting into a soft smile as he does. the two of you were close, closer than he’d ever admit to, and you knew that even without begging bucky would have been there in an instant to help you out. the begging was just fun. 

the two of you take some time to get everything organized, bucky mutters some curse words under his breath as he sees how many small pieces there are and how intricate of a job this will actually be. you read the instructions while he places everything into neat piles.  

what’s the worst that could happen? 

well ... it only takes an hour into building, and a few missing pieces, before you two are bickering with each other. 

“put your back into it!” bucky says as you now had the screwdriver while he held a piece of the wood in place. “the screw isn’t going to catch if you keep doing this half-assed.”  

“i’m not doing it half-assed!” you shriek, letting out a breath that blows a piece of hair out of your face. 

“yes, you are! you’re not even trying. push harder!” he snaps back, though there’s no real bite to his words. 

you try once again and the screw gives no way, not catching onto anything in both an attempt to mock you as well as make you look like a total idiot in front of him. 

you hear bucky mutter a give me that before he takes the screw driver from you and begins to screw it in himself. of course it works when he does it.  

maybe it’s the way he furrows his brows while he’s deep in concentration, or the way that his biceps pop out of that too tight shirt that he’s wearing but you catch yourself staring at him. it was unfair how attractive he was.  

“you’re staring.” he mutters as he now flips through the instruction manual, a small smile on his face as he does so. 

“i’m admiring. much different.” 

but, he was right. you were staring.  

there was a complicated history there between the two of you, one that you both liked to ignore in favor of how close of friends you were. in the beginning there was mutual attraction, both of you always finding yourselves standing shoulder to shoulder at events or when your fingers would accidentally brush up against one another's a spark that would light you up from head to toe. it only took one date to realize that it wasn’t exactly what the two of you wanted, though part of you always felt that it was just too formal and that’s what felt wrong. 

a romantic dinner? not something either of you would have planned but steve had set the whole thing up and neither of you were going to tell him that’s not what you wanted. 

“admiring?” his voice snaps you back into reality again, your thoughts of him subsiding for a moment. he’s tightening another bolt that you screwed in, obviously deeming it inadequate for his tastes. you can see the smirk on his face and it makes you blush a bit. 

“shut up.” you mumble standing up to help him, your arms brushing against one another and oddly enough that spark happens once more. you try to ignore it. you really do. there’s just something so warm and inviting about him that you can’t seem to get enough. 

“you’re really bad at this.” bucky says a while later once the two of you are finally done, both nursing an ice cold beer as you sit on the couch next to each other. “i knew you didn’t have much experience fixing things, i didn't know you’d be totally incapable even with an instruction manual.” 

the two of you laugh at that, the outside of his eyes crinkling softly as he shakes his head thinking back at how frazzled you were. the piece isn’t perfect, the bookcase now pressed up against your wall, but the both of you must admit that you both – well, bucky – did a great job. 

“you know, if i wanted someone to come over and help me, insult me and drink my beers, i would have just called sam.” 

“but you didn’t.” his eyes trail over your features, a smirk on his face as he holds back a chuckle. “you called me. you’re welcome, princess.” 

you playfully hit his shoulder, shoving it slightly as you let out a laugh, though it doesn’t do much as he doesn’t even flinch. his laugh matches yours, his hand reaching out to grip your wrist and pull you in closer to his side, a smile still on his lips. 

“if i wasn’t here it would have taken you ten hours to finish page one.” his hold isn’t tight, it’s just enough to keep you in place, your eyes searching his face as you both seem to feel the electricity between the two of you. 

“oh thank you, bucky barnes, my savior of all things bookcase related.” you tease. 

“you’re welcome.” he repeats himself, pulling you in a bit closer. you can smell the beer on his breath, it’s mixed with the scent of his cologne. “next time, you’re not allowed to touch anything.” 

“who said i’m inviting you over for next time?” 

“me.” he holds up his beer. “as much as i’d love to watch you be an adult and figure this out on your own. my skin is crawling at the idea of you ever holding any of those tools ever again.”  

“you have no faith in me, buck.” 

“nope.” he shakes his head, taking a sip. “not even an ounce.” 

you wonder if things would have been different if that date never went the way it did. if it didn’t feel so stuffy and out of character. he releases your wrist and you both sit in silence. wondering if the bookcase will hold together until the morning and of all the things that could have happened. 

[gyorouis]

── ✦ jeepney love story.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⋆ synopsis⸝⸝ the guy you always end up riding the jeep with on the way to school—well, he’s kinda cute

꒰ genre⸝⸝ FLUFF!! strangers to lovers trope, beoms and reader is SOOO cute pairing⸝⸝ architecture student!beomgyu x afab!reader wc⸝⸝ 2.1k warning⸝⸝ this contains tagalog words but don’t worry, i put english translation for it!! and they’re just cute i don’t think thats a warning tune in⸝⸝ yeng constantion — jeepney love story ୨ৎ ꒱

you never thought your daily commute could be the start of something. it was just a routine, a necessary part of life: wake up early, squeeze into a crowded jeepney, and endure the slow crawl through manila’s traffic. same roads, same stops, same tired faces.

but amidst the usual faces, his face stood out.

it started months ago. you didn’t even notice him at first—just another student trying to survive the city. but then, little things started to catch your attention. the way he adjusted his glasses when they slid down his nose. the way he always carried a large canister, probably for his architecture supplies. and the way he’d pull his hoodie over his head like he was shielding himself from the world.

you weren’t sure why you noticed him more than anyone else. maybe it was his calm presence in the chaos, or the quiet confidence he exuded without trying. whatever it was, he became your “jeepney crush,” the one person you secretly hoped to see every morning.

it was a rainy monday morning. the streets glistened with puddles, and the air was thick with the smell of wet asphalt. you clutched your umbrella tightly, hopping onto the jeepney just as the rain picked up. the driver glanced at you through the rearview mirror, waiting for your fare.

“bayad po,” (this means giving your payment) you said, handing over your coins.

just as the driver reached out, another hand brushed against yours. you looked up—and there he was. his hair was damp from the rain, a few strands sticking to his forehead. he wore a hoodie, as usual, but today, it was soaked through.

“sorry,” he murmured, taking his own fare back after realizing the driver already had yours.

“it’s okay,” you replied softly, your voice barely audible over the rain pounding on the jeepney roof.

he nodded, giving you a small, almost apologetic smile before retreating to his spot near the entrance. your heart thumped louder than it should have. it wasn’t a big deal, just a small interaction, but it lingered with you for the rest of the ride.

you tried not to stare, turning your gaze out the window as he stepped into the jeep. your heart betrayed you, quickening with every move he made. he didn’t look at you, of course. he never did. he was always absorbed in his own world—his phone, his music, or sometimes just staring blankly ahead as if lost in thought.

he handed his fare to the driver and took a seat across from you. your breath caught for a moment as he settled in, pulling his hoodie tighter around him. he seemed tired today, his hair slightly messy as if he had rushed to catch the ride.

you shifted your focus, pretending to look out the window, but your mind was hyper-aware of every small movement he made—the way his fingers tapped lightly against his knee in rhythm with whatever song was playing through his headphones, the way he adjusted his glasses every now and then.

the jeepney jerked forward, and you grabbed onto the metal bar for support. the sudden movement made your shoulder brush against the student next to you, and you muttered a soft apology. your heart pounded—not because of the bump, but because you realized beomgyu had glanced up at the commotion.

you quickly averted your eyes, praying he didn’t notice you staring earlier. the song playing through your earphones wasn’t loud enough to drown out your thoughts. what if he saw? what if he thinks i’m weird?

you peeked at him through your peripheral vision. he was back to minding his own business, leaning back against the seat, eyes half-closed as if the ride was his only moment of peace.

the jeepney stopped again to pick up more passengers, forcing everyone to shift. the space grew tighter, and your knees almost touched his. you felt a blush creeping up your neck.

“bayad po,” someone said from the back, passing their fare forward.

the driver took it without missing a beat. beomgyu reached up, helping pass the fare along, his hand briefly brushing against yours as he handed it to the driver. it was so fleeting, but it left your skin tingling.

you wondered what kind of music he listened to. was it something upbeat? mellow? did he like the same songs as you? did he ever notice you in the same way you noticed him?

probably not, you thought. why would he?

the jeepney slowed again, and you recognized the stop—manila city hall. this was where he usually got off. you watched as he gathered his things, his movements slow and deliberate. he didn’t rush, didn’t seem to care about the hustle around him.

he stood up, grabbing onto the overhead bar for balance. the jeepney hadn’t fully stopped yet, and as it jerked slightly, he stumbled—just for a second—catching himself. your breath hitched, but he straightened, his expression unchanged.

as he stepped off, the sunlight caught the side of his face, illuminating his features for just a moment. he adjusted his glasses, gave a slight nod to the driver, and disappeared into the crowd.

you let out a soft sigh, a mix of relief and disappointment. he was gone again, just like every other day. the ride continued, and so did the city’s relentless rhythm, but your mind stayed with him.

your friends were relentless.

"so, did you see him again today?" elaine asked with a grin, raising an eyebrow.

you sighed, trying to act casual. "yeah, of course. he was on the jeepney again."

"always on the jeepney," anna teased. "does he ever miss a ride?"

"i swear, he’s like a part of the furniture now," elaine added. "same spot, same headphones, just sitting there looking all mysterious."

"i’m telling you, you’re totally in love with him," anna said with a laugh. "you should just go up to him and be like, 'hey, i see you every day, wanna make it official?'"

you rolled your eyes. "it’s not like that."

"oh really?" elaine said, narrowing her eyes. "then why do you keep talking about him? we know you’re crushing hard, come on, just admit it."

"i’m not admitting anything," you mumbled, feeling your face heat up. "he’s just some guy, alright?"

"uh-huh," anna said, clearly not buying it. "you’ve been saying that for weeks, but we both know you’re low-key obsessed."

"obsessed?" you laughed nervously, "no. i just... notice him, that’s all."

"right, notice," elaine smirked. "well, does he ever notice you?"

you paused, trying to think of something to say. "i don’t even know his name."

"seriously?" anna gasped. "you’re over here crushing on him and you don’t even know his name?"

you shrugged, pretending it didn’t matter. "does it really matter? i’m not gonna talk to him anyway."

"yet," elaine grinned. "one of these days, you’ll figure out how to talk to him. just don’t make it awkward when you do."

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. "this is the worst."

"nah," anna said with a wink. "it’s adorable. just make sure we’re there when you finally get his name, alright?"

"deal," you muttered, knowing they weren’t going to let you live this down anytime soon.

a few days passed and you just finished eating dinner with your friend and now are waiting for a ride home. you hopped onto the jeepney at the corner of taft avenue, squeezing into the tight space between a student from feu and an older woman clutching her grocery bags. the usual hum of conversation filled the air, blending with the faint honks and distant chatter of street vendors. you leaned back, letting the comfort of routine wash over you—until he stepped in.

your jeepney crush.

he was unmistakable. tall, with messy hair that seemed to fall perfectly no matter how disheveled it looked. his thick glasses caught the dim streetlights, making his eyes almost glow beneath them. the adamson university lanyard around his neck hung loosely, and, as always, his ID was flipped backward, denying you the chance to know his name. his hoodie was slightly wrinkled, the canister slung over his shoulder adding to his effortlessly cool, laid-back vibe.

“kuya, kasiya pa po ba?” (is there still a space?) his voice, calm yet confident, broke through the noise.

your heart thudded in your chest. he was standing right there, waiting for an answer. you glanced around quickly, hoping there was space, but the driver shook his head.

“wala na, nak, puno na,” (there’s no more space, kid, it’s full) the driver replied, his voice gruff but not unkind.

he didn’t seem fazed. instead, he nodded, gripping the side of the jeepney with one hand and balancing himself effortlessly, his other hand adjusting his glasses. his fingers brushed against his hoodie pocket, and for a brief second, you wondered if he noticed you looking.

you nudged nina, your closest friend and the only one who knew about your silly, one-sided infatuation. “nina, it’s him again,” you whispered, your excitement barely contained.

nina turned her head, eyes lighting up in amusement. “seriously? the adamson guy?” she grinned mischievously. “you’ve got to find out his name.”

“no way,” you shook your head, face flushing. “that’s too embarrassing.”

“then i will,” she teased, already leaning forward, eyes narrowing at his ID.

you grabbed her arm, trying to pull her back. “nina, stop it! you’re making it obvious!”

“shhh, i got this,” she whispered, undeterred. her eyes widened suddenly, and she gasped, covering her mouth.

“what?” you hissed, heart pounding.

nina leaned closer, her excitement palpable. “his name’s choi beomgyu,” she whispered.

choi beomgyu.

choi… beom…gyu.

you repeated the name silently, tasting every syllable. choi beomgyu. it felt almost magical, like knowing his name somehow made him more real. you glanced at him again, his profile outlined against the city lights.

that night, you couldn’t sleep. his name echoed in your mind, over and over. choi beomgyu. the boy from the jeepney. it was like a spell you couldn’t break. as soon as you got home, you opened your phone, fingers flying across the screen as you searched his name on social media. nothing. no matches, no clues, nothing to satisfy the growing curiosity in your chest.

the next morning, you dragged yourself out of bed, feeling the weight of disappointment. still, you boarded the jeepney, hopeful yet resigned. maybe it was just a fleeting moment, you told yourself. maybe that’s all it was meant to be.

but fate had other plans.

the jeepney slowed as it approached united nations avenue, and there he was again. this time, he wasn’t alone. two friends flanked him—one tall and reserved, the other shorter with a playful smirk that bordered on cocky. they boarded, squeezing into the limited space, their laughter filling the small vehicle.

you tried to focus on anything else—the passing street signs, the faded posters on the jeepney ceiling—but their conversation was impossible to ignore.

“bro, are you serious about this project?” the cocky friend nudged beomgyu.

beomgyu shrugged, adjusting his canister. “as if i had a choice.”

the taller friend chuckled, glancing briefly in your direction before turning back to his phone.

you kept your gaze down, fingers nervously gripping your bag. but then, something unexpected happened. the cocky friend elbowed beomgyu, jerking his head slightly in your direction. you couldn’t hear their words, but the teasing was evident.

beomgyu rolled his eyes, playfully shoving him away.

when the jeepney reached manila city hall, the three of them stood to disembark. you followed, keeping a safe distance. they headed towards the underpass leading to intramuros, their laughter echoing off the tunnel walls.

just as you were about to hop onto another jeepney bound for ust, the cocky friend turned back, waving. you hesitated, confused. then he pointed at beomgyu and tapped his own pocket, a knowing grin on his face.

your heart raced. what was that supposed to mean?

you looked down, fingers brushing against your uniform pocket. something crinkled inside. cautiously, you pulled out a small, torn piece of yellow paper. the words scribbled on it made your breath hitch:

“alam mo na yung pangalan ko, sana pati pangalan mo malaman ko.” (you know my name now, i’d love to know yours too.)

below it was an instagram username with a cheeky message:

“kahit i-follow mo lang ako, ako na bahala sa first move at sa lahat :)) - beomgyu” (just follow me on socmed, i’ll handle the rest)

a laugh escaped your lips, soft and incredulous. all this time, you thought you were just a silent admirer, unnoticed and invisible. but now, you realized: maybe he was paying attention all along.

gyo's note: HAPPY HEART DAY EVERYONE !! beomgyu as your college crush is just 🤌🏻🤌🏻 ++ him in art field heheheh ACTUALLY i wrote this when i saw someone who gives off beom vibe when i was riding jeep one time and this ideal automatically came to me. if you made it to this part, thank you so much! you will be loved. xoxo!

✮ 2024 gyozies, all rights reserved.

[hhughes]

https://www.tumblr.com/bedsyandco/765140858987331584/more-atreader-content-pretty-please

Yes yes yes to Jack getting injured and having to see her

I feel like he would try to play it off as not that bad when it is really bad

note: forgot how much I adored writing these two. thank you for sending in for them nonnie <33

jack winces as he adjusts his position on the bench for the sixth time since he sat down. as if he could simply shuffle away the sharp pain shooting up his shoulder.

“jack” he hears his coach’s voice behind him and he glances that way just in time to see keefe gesturing behind him. telling jack to go down the tunnel and let one of the trainers check him out.

“i’m good coach. just winded. but i’ll be good in a few minutes” jack argues, trying to keep himself from wincing as he stretches his shoulder in a weird way to keep eye contact with the older man.

keefe doesn’t buy it. not for a second. “go down the tunnel, hughes. it’s an order not a suggestion”

jack sighs, rubbing his face, but he knows better than to keep arguing. he hobbles down the bench, unclips his helmet, and makes his way down the tunnel. his shoulder is killing him, but the last thing he wants is to get pulled from the game.

the second he gets close to the end of the tunnel, he sees you waiting, arms crossed, a knowing expression already on your face.

“you were winded, huh?” you ask, tilting your head.

jack groans. “don’t start.” he doesn’t bother asking how you knew he said that, since you weren’t on the bench when he uttered the lie. he knows by now that you have eyes and ears everywhere.

“oh, I will start.” you motion for him to sit and he starts taking off his jersey “because I saw that hit. and I saw you favoring your left side for the last five shifts.”

jack mutters something under his breath but doesn’t fight you when you move closer, fingers already prodding at his shoulder. the second you press against the joint, he tenses, sucking in a sharp breath.

you nod, unimpressed. “yeah, totally just winded.”

jack gives you a weak smile. “mind reader, huh?”

you roll your eyes but soften a little, carefully rotating his arm to test his mobility. his jaw clenches when you lift it above shoulder height.

“jack,” you say, gentler this time. “you have to be honest with me. you can’t just push through everything.”

he exhales through his nose, tilting his head up to look at the ceiling. after a moment, he mutters, “it’s not that bad. just sore.”

you level him with a look. “sore or shooting pain?”

jack hesitates. too long.

“jack.”

he sighs, finally meeting your eyes. “…both.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to let your frustration show. not at him—well, okay, maybe a little at him—but mostly at the situation. you know he just wants to play.

but you also know if he keeps pushing, he’ll only make it worse.

“you’re sitting for the rest of the game,” you tell him firmly, already reaching for the ice pack.

jack groans, dragging a hand down his face. “come on—”

“non-negotiable,” you cut in, pressing the ice to his shoulder. “you need to rest. i’ll re-evaluate after the game, but I swear, jack, if you argue with me one more time—”

jack huffs, shaking his head, but there’s a tiny smirk on his lips. “you threatening me, doc?”

you glare at him. “not a doctor.”

he grins, but after a moment, his expression softens. he reaches up—his good arm this time—and taps your wrist lightly.

“c’mon i’m fine. i can finish the game. there’s only like six minutes left anyway” he pleads

you exhale slowly, pressing your lips together. “yeah, and I’m sure your team is more than capable of playing without you for six minutes.”

jack scoffs, shaking his head. “look, I can’t just—”

“I don’t remember when you decided my professional opinion was optional, hughes,” you cut in, tone sharp. “I wasn’t asking.”

jack gives you a look, jaw clenching like he wants to keep arguing. you can practically see the stubborn thoughts running through his head—how six minutes isn’t a big deal, how he’s played through worse, how he thinks he knows his body better than you do.

you lean forward slightly, lowering your voice. “if you want, I can take this to your coaches and have them be the ones to pull you. would that make you feel better?”

his nostrils flare. “you wouldn’t.”

you hold his gaze, completely unphased. “try me.”

jack groans dramatically, throwing his head back. “God, you’re impossible.”

“you’re impossible,” you counter, pressing the ice pack more firmly against his shoulder. he hisses, shooting you a glare, but you don’t budge.

a moment passes before he exhales, finally relenting. “fine.”

you nod, satisfied. “good. that’s all you had to say in the first place.”

jack mutters something under his breath that you definitely don’t catch, but he doesn’t move to get up again. you take that as a victory.

still, as you start writing up his injury report, he nudges your knee with his own. “y’know,” he mumbles, his voice a little quieter, “you could just say you care about me.”

you pause, glancing at him. his eyes are teasing, but there’s something softer underneath.

you shake your head, suppressing a smile. “don’t push it, hughes. and put your shirt back on,” you order

“why is it distracting you” he smirks and lets out a laugh as you throw his jersey over his head before making your way out the little room

[puttersmile]

HeartnSol community!

Heart & Sol Month Days 1, 10 & 26

Prompts are "First Meeting", "Sleep" and "Facing Fears".

Short Story Below!

I Can't Sleep

Bobby didn’t want to be here.

Glowshade Lodge was too isolated, too creaky, too empty. The walls groaned with every gust of wind, the floorboards sighed under the weight of footsteps that didn’t belong to her, and the lights flickered—even though there was no storm. It didn’t feel like a place people were supposed to live.

She would have much rather been at home. Instead, she was stuck here for the weekend, trapped with a bunch of kids she barely knew, all of them sent here as part of a “wilderness experience”—a program meant to teach independence, teamwork, and survival skills. The rangers running the trip had called it an adventure. Bobby called it a waste of time.

Most of the kids seemed to agree. Some tried to make the best of it, but Bobby could already tell no one wanted to be here. The lodge was old, the air always carried the scent of damp wood, and the only thing to do was hike, gather firewood, and listen to the rangers tell campfire stories that were probably meant to scare them.

She wasn’t impressed.

And she wasn’t in the mood to bond with anyone.

Including them.

Dogday and Catnap—brothers. One loud, one quiet. Opposites in nearly every way.

Dogday acted like he owned the place, chatting up everyone like he had lived here for years. He was full of easy grins and self-proclaimed “pro-tips” about how to handle the wild. Meanwhile, Catnap barely spoke. He just watched, his heavy-lidded gaze drifting over people like he wasn’t fully awake. Or maybe, Bobby thought, like he was seeing something the rest of them weren’t.

She wasn’t sure what to make of them yet. And she certainly hadn’t expected to end up hiding under the same bunk bed as them just hours after meeting them.

Bobby woke up to a sound.

A creak. Slow. Deliberate.

At first, she thought it was just the wind rattling the lodge, the way it had been doing since sundown. But as she lay there, she heard it again—closer this time.

Her ears twitched.

That wasn’t the wind.

Someone—something—was moving in the hallway.

Bobby’s breath caught in her throat. She stayed still, every instinct screaming at her not to move.

Across the room, Dogday shifted.

She hadn’t even realized he was awake.

He met her gaze, his floppy ears twitching, his whole body tensed. He had heard it too. And Bobby could tell, just by the way his jaw was set, that he was fighting the urge to growl.

Dogday had this low, buzzing growl that kicked in whenever he sensed danger—something quiet, but tense, like he was a frayed wire just waiting to snap. The first time Bobby heard it earlier that day, she had thought it sounded like a tiny electric toothbrush. She almost told him that. Decided against it.

But now, that sound was starting up in his throat.

And Bobby realized, with a sinking feeling, that he didn’t even know he was doing it.

The wind howled against the lodge.

The creaking in the hallway stopped.

Then, a whisper.

“Go back to sleep.”

Bobby’s breath hitched.

It wasn’t coming from the hallway.

It was coming from inside the room.

Her head snapped up just in time to see Catnap’s bed was empty.

She barely had time to process that before Dogday grabbed her wrist, yanking her off the bed without a sound and pulling her under the lower bunk with him.

Bobby landed face to face with Catnap, who was already curled up under there, tail flicking anxiously. Waiting.

He pressed a finger to his lips.

Stay quiet.

Bobby barely had time to nod before the door creaked open.

Something entered the room.

She couldn’t see it.

But she could hear it.

A slow, dragging sound—like something heavy being pulled across the wooden floor.

The air grew colder.

Bobby’s fingers dug into the blanket.

Dogday went rigid beside her. His growl started to rise again—

Then Catnap moved fast.

Before Bobby even knew what was happening, Catnap clamped a hand over Dogday’s mouth, pressing down firmly.

Dogday’s eyes went wide. He struggled for a second, that electric-buzz growl still vibrating in his throat, but Catnap didn’t let go.

He just shook his head once—sharp, firm.

Not now. Not here.

And then—

Sniff.

The creature breathed in, slow and heavy.

Bobby swallowed down a whimper, pressing both hands over her own mouth to stifle it.

It knew they were there.

But it didn’t know where.

The floorboards creaked as it bent down.

Bobby felt it before she saw it—the weight of something peering into the bunk.

Then—

A breath. Right next to her ear.

“Go back to sleep.”

Her heart stopped.

She clenched her eyes shut, willing herself not to move.

If they moved—if they so much as twitched—

It would. Find. Them.

The night stretched on.

Bobby swore, at one point, she could feel it waiting.

Testing them.

She lost track of time listening to its slow, dragging movements.

And then—

Click.

The faintest sound.

Like a door shutting.

And then—

Silence.

Morning light crept in through the cracks in the old wooden lodge.

None of them moved.

They just lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Bobby was the first to break.

“…That was real, right?” she whispered.

Dogday swallowed. “Yeah.”

Next to them, Catnap finally blinked.

“…It talked to me first,” he muttered, his voice groggy. “Tried to get me to run.”

Bobby shuddered. “But you didn’t.”

Catnap’s tail flicked. “Didn’t feel right.”

Dogday ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, well. We’re alive, so I’d say that was a good call.”

Bobby frowned. “We should tell someone.”

Dogday hesitated. Then—

“No one’ll believe us.”

She frowned. “You don’t know that!"

“You wanna explain how a big, creepy, sniffin’ monster got into a ranger’s lodge without breaking a single door?”

Bobby opened her mouth—then closed it.

He had a point.

“…So what do we do?” she muttered.

Dogday sighed.

“…Guess we just pretend we slept fine.”

Bobby exhaled.

She hated that answer.

But she hated the idea of being brushed off even more.

So, with a deep breath, she nodded. “Fine.”

Then, after a long pause—

“…Thanks.”

Dogday blinked. “For what?”

“…For not making me deal with that alone.”

Dogday snorted. “Yeah, well. If it had gotten you, I’d have to explain to the rangers why we suddenly had one less critter in this lodge. Sounds like a hassle.”

Bobby rolled her eyes. “You’re so compassionate.”

Dogday chuckled. “I try.”

Above them, Catnap stretched. He'd returned to his favorite top bunk, tail flicking lazily. Dogday peeped up at his brother and smiled. We should really be thanking my buddy Catnap! He was the real quick thinker last night."

Catnap grinned lopsidedly. "Just doing my brotherly duties. Next time, try not to sound like a broken toothbrush when there’s a monster in the room."

Dogday gasped, ears and tail spiking. "Sound like a what?!"

Bobby laughed loudly. Nearly doubled over. She couldn't help it.

Maybe she hadn’t been the only one scared tonight.

For the first time since she arrived, she felt safer. And happier.

End.

Author Note: Bobby isn't a reliable narrator. The lodge is old but it isn't a bad place to stay. Thought it could use some renovations.

Also a lot of kids love to play there. Hoppy especially.

[moonmaiden1996]

Love at First Sight (According to Nagumo, Anyway) Part Four

The day started like any other.

You clocked in, greeted your colleagues, and settled into the rhythmic hum of the office. The air buzzed with the usual symphony of monotony—keyboards clacking in uneven rhythms, the soft rustle of paper as reports shuffled from desk to desk, the occasional ring of a phone slicing through the background noise. The fluorescent lights flickered with a faint buzz, casting a sterile glow over the workspace, draining everything of warmth. There was a steady hum to it all, a constant reminder of the predictable grind that you’d grown so used to. You could almost hear the collective sigh of resignation in the air.

But something felt... off.

For once, it didn’t feel suffocating. There were no passive-aggressive emails lurking in your inbox, no last-minute assignments dumped on your desk like an avalanche, no looming sense of dread clinging to your shoulders like a phantom. If anything, the office felt... calm. Too calm.

People worked efficiently, their movements smooth, their interactions void of the usual tension. No whispered complaints in the break room. No lingering glares exchanged across cubicles. The unspoken power struggles that usually brewed beneath the surface had vanished overnight. It was unnerving. There was no edge, no undercurrent of stress. Just... quiet.

It was unnatural.

But you weren’t about to question it. For the first time in ages, you weren’t drowning under an unbearable workload. The constant, crushing weight had lifted, leaving you with an alien sense of ease. You even found yourself enjoying the silence, savoring the rare sensation of peace that filled the office. The work felt manageable, the day stretched out before you, almost idyllic. And for once, you didn’t feel like an imposter just trying to survive.

Then, without warning, your boss called an emergency meeting.

The office gathered hesitantly, confusion thick in the air. Your boss stood at the front, gripping the edge of the desk as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. His normally composed demeanor had cracked. His face was pale, his jaw clenched, and his eyes darted to unseen corners of the room, as though something lurked just out of sight, waiting for the right moment to strike. A chill settled in your gut. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“I—” His voice cracked. He swallowed hard and tried again.

“I’m resigning. Effective immediately.”

The words landed like a thunderclap. The room went deathly quiet. The fluorescent lights above flickered, the buzz now almost oppressive as your colleagues exchanged confused glances. You barely had time to process what was happening before your boss’s shaky hands wiped across his brow, his eyes wide, as though he’d seen something none of you could. “I—I can’t do this anymore,” he stammered. “The stress, the atmosphere... it’s too much. I need to put my health first.”

A murmur rippled through the room, unease creeping into everyone’s expressions. People whispered, but no one dared challenge him. The atmosphere?

Sure, work had its fair share of stress, but lately, things had been running almost too smoothly. No disasters. No major conflicts. Nothing that should have driven a man to the brink. Yet here he was, pale, trembling, abandoning his position as if something had hunted him out of it.

Your stomach twisted. A prickle of unease slithered down your spine, slow and insidious, worming its way into your thoughts. There was something you were missing.

Before you could fully process what had happened, your colleagues turned to you.

“Congratulations,” they said. “You’re in charge now.”

The words barely registered. Your mind reeled from the surrealness of the situation, processing the events in fragmented moments. You didn’t know what to feel. Was this some kind of joke? You blinked, trying to reconcile the surrealness of the situation with the new reality settling over you.

But as the reality settled in, something unexpected flickered through the unease.

Pride.

You had worked hard. You deserved this. You were officially in charge now. The promotion was yours, whether or not it made sense. Whatever had happened to your boss—whatever unseen force had rattled him to his core—wasn’t your problem anymore. It was your moment.

The rest of the day passed in a strange blur. People were still cooperative, still unnervingly respectful, but there was something else now. Something just beneath the surface. A silent shift in the air, like an unspoken rule had settled over the office. No one questioned your authority. No one challenged you.

It should have felt like a victory.

And in some ways, it did.

By the time your shift ended, you felt something dangerously close to happiness. A rare thing. A feeling you hadn’t had in a long time. The weight of the day, the stress, the worry—it had all melted away, leaving you with a sense of lightness you couldn’t remember ever feeling. You decided to stop by Sakamoto’s convenience store on the way home—a small indulgence to celebrate. Wine, something sweet, maybe your usual coffee. You didn’t even care about the weird vibe from that odd guy you’d seen there before. Nothing would ruin this perfect day.

The store’s bell chimed softly as you stepped inside, the familiar scent of warm bread and instant ramen greeting you. For the first time in a long while, you felt light. The rhythmic hum of the store was like a balm, washing away the tension still clinging to you from the office.

And then—

“Ah, my love, you’re back again.”

The voice was smooth, teasing—dripping with amusement. It hit your ears like a faint, unwelcomed melody.

You turned towards the counter.

And there he was.

Nagumo.

Leaning against the counter like he owned the place, his sharp eyes locking onto you the moment you stepped in. His smirk widened, like he had been expecting this moment, like he knew you’d walk in at just the right time. The same sense of confidence that both irked and intrigued you.

And—

For the first time—

You smiled at him.

Just a small thing. Barely there. But real. A flicker of amusement in your expression. Maybe it was the pleasant mood of the day, or maybe you were just too tired to argue with him. Either way, there it was—a smile that you hadn’t realized you were even capable of.

Nagumo’s eyes gleamed. His smirk twitched, curling into something smug and undeniably pleased.

“Well, now,” he mused, pushing off the counter with an easy, lazy confidence. “Look at you. Practically glowing.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real bite to it. “It’s been a good day.”

He hummed, tilting his head in consideration. “A promotion, was it?”

You blinked at him, startled. “How did you—”

He grinned. “I pay attention to my darling’s life, of course.”

Something stirred at the back of your mind. A shadow of a thought, a fleeting recognition of something you should have been piecing together. But before you could grasp it, Nagumo leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a light, playful lilt.

“Well, my dear,” he purred, “since you’re in such high spirits, why not let me take you out on a proper date?”

The teasing lilt was expected. The casual arrogance. The confidence.

What wasn’t expected was your reaction.

Because you—

Didn’t immediately refuse.

You hesitated. Just for a second. A moment too long.

Nagumo noticed. Of course, he did. His eyes gleamed, the satisfaction in them unmistakable. He had won. You were a step closer to whatever game he was playing.

And then—

“…Sure,” you said, smiling no less.

Nagumo actually blinked. Like he hadn’t expected you to say yes. But the shock was fleeting, vanishing almost as soon as it came. His grin stretched wider, delight dancing across his expression.

“My, my,” he practically purred. “Finally coming to your senses, are we?”

You scoffed, shaking your head, but you still didn’t take it back. Maybe it was just the good mood. Maybe you were too tired to argue. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t entirely hate the idea.

Then—

“OH, HELL NO.”

The moment shattered.

You turned just in time to see Shin Asakura pointing an accusatory finger directly at Nagumo.

“You—you did WHAT?!” Shin shouted. “I thought Aoi said not to start threatening peopleeee!” Shin was practically vibrating with disbelief. “You scared off her boss, I am pretty sure that was on the list of things not to do!”

The store fell into a stunned silence.

Your breath hitched. The words didn’t make sense at first.

Scared off…?

Your boss. His pale face. His shaking hands. His darting eyes, like something was hunting him.

The eerily cooperative colleagues. The unspoken wariness. The unnatural smoothness of your day.

Realization crashed over you, ice-cold and suffocating.

Before you could respond, Sakamoto sighed heavily, grabbing Shin by the collar and dragging him toward the back.

Shin flailed. “WAIT—I’M RIGHT! I’M RIGHT, DAMN IT!” His voice echoed in the shop, but Sakamoto was already pulling him further into the back.

Sakamoto ignored him, muttering under his breath. “Great. Now I’ll never get rid of him.”

And just like that, they disappeared into the back room, leaving you with him.

You snapped your gaze towards Nagumo, searching his face for some kind of denial.

But Nagumo—

Didn’t even bother lying.

He just smirked, utterly unbothered, slipping his hands into his pockets. Nagumo chuckled softly. “Whatever you say, my love. Shall we go? I know a good noodle place with amazing coffee. You will love it.”

SOOOOOOO? What you think?

[natimiles]

Perfect for us (Greyson x reader)

Words: 2191

Tags: pre-relationship; fluffy; first kiss; confessions; brief misunderstandings; Greyson blushing beautifully; Greyson being shy but trying to be assertive; you’ve been friends for a while, in case it wasn’t clear ashusahuoahuea

Happy Valentine’s Day!

“This is it!” You say to yourself. With one last glance at the car’s rearview mirror, you meet your own determined gaze. “You got this!” Taking a deep breath, you step out of the vehicle with a box of chocolates in hand.

The mantra “it’s okay, everything will be fine” echoes in your mind as you walk through Akso Hospital. The parking lot, the garden, the main reception… You know the way by heart, and your body leads you without hesitation to the cardiology ward.

And that’s when your body betrays you.

Your feet freeze in place when you see Yvonne’s desk and the flow of people bustling back and forth. Your eyes lock onto the floor as your mind reminds you that, despite it being Valentine’s Day, it’s still just another workday for those tirelessly working there. The determination you had five minutes ago starts to crack as you realize that your presence might disrupt his work — especially for something so… trivial.

If regret could kill, you’d be dead on the floor right now.

How did you not think of this before? It’s obvious this was a stupid idea! Who buys chocolates for their crush and brings them to a hospital to give them? Sure, the hospital is his workplace, but that doesn’t help now! You shouldn’t have come to his workplace for this… You can give him the chocolates another day. Probably. You should just turn around and leave before someone sees you.

“Excuse me, Miss!” A voice calls from behind you, but you’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t even recognize who it belongs to.

“Sorry,” you reply, stepping to the side, thinking you were just in someone’s way. Your eyes remain fixed on a random spot on the floor, your shoulder leaning against the wall as you continue your internal debate.

The person passes by and stops next to you for a few seconds, but you don’t even notice. Only when a pair of feet appears in your line of sight do you realize that the person is now standing in front of you. Confused, you look up, meeting familiar gray eyes that watch you with curiosity behind the glasses.

“Greyson!” Your eyes widen, and your first reaction is to grip the box of chocolates tightly as you hide it behind your back.

“Ah, so you finally noticed me here,” he says with a light teasing tone, his usual gentle gaze locked on you. The doctor obviously notices your suspicious and far from discreet movement, but he just gives a small smile as he speaks. “What brings you here?”

“I… I was, uh, looking for someone.” 

“I can help you, if you’d like. Who do you need to talk to?”  

“No, I… I should leave and wait for another time to talk to him. The hospital is busy, and I don’t want to interrupt. This was a silly idea,” you smile awkwardly.

“Oh…” A look of understanding passes across his face as his gray eyes briefly fall on your arm, still hidden behind you, for a fraction of a second, but it’s more than enough for you to notice. His smile falters when he realizes what’s going on, and his voice sounds less cheerful when he responds. “I see.”

The man can’t help but feel upset, especially because he put in extra effort and worked later than usual in the past few days to try and have some free time to ask you out today. The whole thing was supposed to be a surprise, given that emergencies happen all the time at the hospital, but he had just made sure his plan could go ahead when he saw you standing in the middle of the hallway. And now knowing that you were here at the hospital possibly to deliver chocolates to someone else…

The expression on his face changes in a way you’ve never seen before, and it takes you a few seconds to process the situation and realize you need to do something. He’s misunderstanding everything! A frantic voice echoes in your head. You need to swallow your embarrassment and negative thoughts, and do this right, before he thinks you’re there for someone else! Before this turns into a communication problem that can’t be undone.

All the lunches together and the almost daily messages, even if it’s just to wish each other a good morning. All the rides he’s given you home, and how you both drag out the goodbyes just to spend one more minute together. All the sneaky glances and late-night phone conversations when he’s off work.

All the times you lay in bed and wondered if friends felt this way when they were together, or if this feeling was something more. All the times you stared at the ceiling of your room while realizing that the butterflies in your stomach were signs that what you felt was more than just friendship. All the times you wondered if the shy smiles he gave you were just for you, and if they meant something more. And the time you realized that, if you wanted to be sure, you could use Valentine’s Day in your favor.

And now here you are, watching his face change completely. His brows furrow as he looks away to a random spot on the floor beside him, and his lips break the sweet smile he always gives you. Your heart tightens seeing him like that, but it also makes your determination come back stronger.

“Greyson!” You call out louder than necessary, pushing yourself off the wall and straightening up in a sudden movement. He turns his gaze to your face, slightly startled by the sudden action. “Are you busy right now? I mean, of course, you’re always busy, you’re exceptional at everything you do, and that’s why your schedule is always exploding, but... What I want to know is if you’re too busy right now, or if we can talk for a moment?”

“Huh?” He blinks a few times, trying to process the barrage of words you just threw at him in a record time of five seconds. He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck in an attempt to calm his own heart from the compliment. “Well... Actually, my schedule is completely free right now.”

“Really?! Then... Do you want to go somewhere?”  

He looks at you, confused. “Didn’t you—”

“No.” You cut him off before he finishes the sentence, breaking into a smile. “Meow Cafe?”

Greyson raises an eyebrow in silent questioning but doesn’t comment on your sudden change in behavior. With a sigh, he agrees. “Sounds great. I’ll just get my things.”

“I’ll wait for you in my car then!”

He nods and turns toward his office. You stay there, your hand still hidden behind your back until he’s out of your sight. Now that you’re going out together, you decide to give him the chocolates at the cafe. It’ll be so much more romantic and perfect that way!

You’re separated for just a few minutes, but you’re so anxious that it feels like hours when the brown-haired man appears at the meeting spot, his cheeks flushed from practically running to get to you faster.

The ride to the cafe is short, filled with random topics as your mind re-plans how you’re going to confess to him. And your Plan B falls apart when you reach the destination and see the place packed, and with a huge waiting line outside. Without reservations, you both give up and try another place. And another, and another… But every place is full because of Valentine’s Day.

A heavy sigh escapes you as you park the car in some random square. The sun is starting to set, painting the sky and you both in twilight colors, and you’re on the verge of giving up on everything. Maybe everything that’s happened is a sign for you to stay quiet and say nothing. Another sigh, and you notice some movement beside you when Greyson moves in the passenger seat. You turn your face to look at him, but he just watches you cautiously for a few moments.

“Something’s bothering you, and it’s been since the hospital.” His voice is low, but he says it with complete certainty. There’s no need to ask; he knows you well enough to tell when something’s wrong. You don’t respond, but the way you furrow your brows and set your lips in a straight line is enough of an answer for him. “Is it... because you didn’t find who you were looking for at the hospital? You wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with him, right? And it didn’t work out.”

“Wait, what?”  

“It’s fine. I could offer to help you find him.”

“Greyson, that’s not…” You try to speak, but he places his index finger on your lips. The smile that spreads across his face is subtle, but enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes slightly, which gaze at you with that determined gleam you’ve come to love. Even if you wanted to, you don’t think you’d be able to explain yourself at this moment, so you end up giving in and staying quiet.

“However, I don’t… want that. If I can be honest… That’s not what I want at all.” The guy seems to be struggling for the right words, his cheeks growing redder with every passing second. “I know this is going to sound incredibly selfish, and it’s not fair to you, and now is definitely not the best or most romantic time, but… I had everything planned to ask you out today, for a Valentine’s Day date,” he says, waiting a few seconds for you to process what he said. Your eyes widen, and your breath stops, and he laughs through his nose in a self-deprecating way. The finger that was still on your lips falls, just like his shoulders, and he pulls back a bit as he sits properly in the seat again. “What I mean is… I like you more than just as a friend, and if I can make you change your mind, I will. I know it sounds selfish, and here in the car, in some random spot in the city, it’s definitely not what I had in mind when I planned to tell you—”

You don’t let him finish; you’ve heard more than enough, more than you expected. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you pull him closer as you lean forward, pressing your lips to his in a chaste and quick kiss, but it’s enough to leave the guy stunned.

“Greyson…” you whisper, pulling away slowly. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen, even reaching up to his ears, and he looks absolutely adorable like that. “Like I tried to tell you: it’s not what you think. Yes, I was looking for someone at the hospital, and I wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with him. And in the end, I did.” You turn to the back seat, grabbing the box of chocolates you had placed there while waiting for him and placing it in his hands, which are frozen in his lap. “It’s not what I had planned either, but... Happy Valentine’s Day, Greyson. I didn’t manage to make homemade chocolates, but I picked these with love, exclusively for you, because I like you more than just a friend too.”

He alternates between looking at the chocolate and at you a few times, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he tries to remember what words are and how to say them to you.

“I... feel a little stupid now…” He finally says, furrowing his brow and pouting adorably.

“Well, to be fair, this would’ve been solved if we’d talked, and I think we were both waiting for the right and perfect moment. But sometimes, things happen at the most random and unplanned moments.”

Greyson keeps his confused frown, and you laugh softly, the melodious sound quickening his heartbeat while also calming him in a whirlwind of emotions. The only certainties at the moment are that he needs to hear you laugh more, see you smile more, and definitely kiss you more.

Holding the chocolate in one hand, he reaches out with the other, resting it gently on your neck. His thumb gently caresses your cheek, and he takes a deep breath before leaning in, this time being the one to initiate the kiss. He dares to ask to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking permission, and you sigh as you give in. In a cliché rom-com moment, you feel an electric current run through your body, warming you from the inside out. Your hand moves to his hair at the nape of his neck, tangling and gently stroking it, and he can’t help but smile during the kiss.

The butterflies don’t just flutter aimlessly, they twirl and dance in your stomachs, but the sensation is wonderful. You both feel that it’s right, that this is what you’ve always wanted.

And as the night slowly falls, you kiss each other again and again and again…

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[oopsiedaisydeer]

𝘢 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴

ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ… 20ᴛʜᴄᴇɴᴛᴜʀʏɢɪʀʟ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴘʟᴀʏꜱ ᴄᴜᴘɪᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀʏ ᴇɴᴠᴇʟᴏᴘᴇ

Echo was no stranger to awkward situations, but this? This was next-level.

It had started with a phone call just a few days ago, her phone buzzing while she was half-distracted with her sketchbook.

“Echo! I need a favor.” Iris’s voice was light, but there was an edge of excitement in it.

“Uh, sure. What’s up?”

“Okay, so I’ve made a valentine for Matt. I need you to pick it up from the post office tomorrow and deliver it to him. But like… without him knowing it’s from me.”

Echo’s heart skipped a beat. “Wait, what? You want me to deliver a valentine for you? To Matt?”

Iris laughed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah, just slip it into his locker. I can’t risk him finding out it’s me. I know you can do it, please? Pretty please?”

Echo sighed, already feeling the pressure. She wasn’t sure she was the perfect person for the job, but it wasn’t like she could say no to Iris.

“Fine, fine. But you owe me one,” Echo grumbled, half-amused by Iris’s sudden surge of enthusiasm.

“Deal! Thank you, you’re a lifesaver!” Iris gushed before hanging up.

Standing outside Matt’s locker on the day before Valentine’s Day, she tried to act casual… a bundle of nerves, holding the envelope. She glanced around one more time, making sure no one was looking.

It wasn’t exactly her job to play Cupid, but here she was. Iris had asked her to deliver the valentine, and Echo couldn’t say no.

She shoved her hands in her pockets, trying to steady the flutter in her chest. She wasn’t supposed to make a big deal out of this. It was just a valentine. She was just being a good friend.

With a deep breath, Echo slid the envelope through the small gap in Matt’s locker, her fingers trembling. It should’ve been a quick, simple task, but for some reason, the whole thing felt... off. Like something was waiting to go wrong. She stepped back, ready to escape the moment before anything else happened.

Just then, a voice broke through her thoughts.

“Well, well, well, Echo. What do we have here?”

Echo froze, every muscle in her body tensing as she turned to see Chris leaning against the lockers, arms crossed, a teasing grin on his face.

“Nice work,” he said, nodding toward Matt’s locker. “So, you like Matt? Or are you just playing matchmaker now?”

Echo rolled her eyes, trying to keep her cool. “It’s nothing. Just a valentine. Relax.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. You know, I’m really curious about this whole thing you got going on with Matt. You’ve been a little... more forward, lately though.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly averted her eyes. “I don’t have a thing with Matt. I’m just... doing a favor for a friend. That’s all.”

Chris laughed lightly, his voice playful. “Sure, sure. You know, you’re terrible at keeping secrets, Echo.”

Echo bit her lip, trying to ignore the fluttering in her chest. “I’m not keeping a secret. Just... I owe something to someone. That’s it.” She wanted to get out of this conversation before she said something that gave her away.

Chris grinned. “Uh-huh. Well, I’m sure I’ll find out eventually. You can’t hide things from me for long.”

She groaned inwardly. Chris was impossible to shake off once he got curious.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you to your... mystery. Don’t get too caught up in it,” he added, winking at her.

Echo felt the heat rise in her cheeks again. She was terrible at this. “Right. Thanks for the... advice.”

She hurried away from him, relieved to be out of the conversation, and quickly left the school. As soon as she stepped outside, she let out a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.

The valentine was now safely delivered. She had done her job. But for some reason, she still felt unsettled.

When Echo got home, she tossed her bag on her bed and sat down, exhausted from the awkwardness of the day. As she rummaged through her backpack, she found something unexpected… a small envelope tucked into the side pocket. No return address. Her heart skipped a beat. Was this... a valentine?

Echo pulled it out slowly, her fingers tracing the edges. She recognised the handwriting instantly, though she couldn’t place it exactly. It looked familiar but not quite right. Almost like someone was trying to cover their tracks. She opened the envelope carefully, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Inside, there was a doodle of a cat, a few lyrics from a rap song she vaguely recalled someone humming that week, and a message in the same scribbly handwriting.

We knew from the start that things fall apart and tend to shatter She like that shit don't matter, when I get home, get at her Through letter, phone, whatever, let's link, let's get together “Thought you might need a valentine too”

Echo blinked, staring at the card. It didn’t make sense. The handwriting and tone seemed like a guy she must know. But then again, she had no clue who the sender was. 

There was no name at the bottom of the card, just the cat doodle and a few random drawings that made her smile despite herself. The note was playful, simple, and full of clues that felt oddly personal.

Echo stared at the card, her thoughts a little scattered. It felt oddly intimate, like something meant just for her, yet still not quite hers. She smiled softly to herself, as she tucked it into her nightstand.

A valentine with no return address.

creds to @bernardsbendystraws for dividers <33

a/n: i love these guys :> taglist: @snoopychris @chrissweetheart @sturnsrecord @sturns-mermaid @slxt4chriss @blushsturns @stvrnzwrld @middlepartmatt comment to be added/removed from this au's taglist!

cya soon <3