#hes not thinking abt it and he looks so...

[bacchuschucklefuck]

january month of yuugi

[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.

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

[yois2aki]

wc. 0.5k

i think we as a community need to talk more abt how caleb can't say no to mc....... he's such a lost cause.

caleb was strong-willed, disciplined, and unshakable in the face of countless challenges. he had trained for years to resist temptation, to hold his ground, to never let his emotions dictate his actions.

but you?

you were his one and only weakness.

he realized this for the thousandth time when you turned your gaze away from him, your shoulders slumping as you let out the softest, most genuine little sigh of disappointment.

“it’s fine,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, eyes fixed on the floor. “i get it.”

caleb felt himself start to crumble.

his fingers twitched, his jaw clenched, and a storm raged inside him as he fought the urge to give in. she’s doing this on purpose, he told himself. she has to be doing this on purpose.

“don’t—” he exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “don’t do that.”

“do what?” you asked innocently, still not looking at him.

oh, for the love of—

his resolve was already in shambles, and you weren’t even trying. he had refused your request—politely, mind you—because it had made sense at the time. but now? now he was questioning everything because he simply couldn’t stand seeing you upset.

“you’re blackmailing me,” he accused, his voice strained, like he was trying to physically hold himself together.

your brows furrowed, confused. “blackmail? what? i’m not—”

“yes, you are.” he pointed at you as if that would prove his point, stepping closer, his whole body tense with frustration. “you’re not even doing it on purpose, but it’s working, and i hate it.”

your lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across your face.

caleb took a deep breath, rubbing his temples. “you don’t get it,” he muttered. “i can’t handle this. i can’t handle you looking sad like that. it’s—it’s physically painful for me.”

you blinked up at him, as if trying to understand the gravity of what he was saying. then, your lips pressed together in an attempt to fight a smile. “physically painful?”

“yes,” he said flatly. “like, chest-tightening, mind-screaming, losing-my-damn-mind painful.”

he was dead serious, too. there was no teasing in his expression, no playful exasperation. just raw, unfiltered truth.

you finally met his eyes again, and that was it. the final blow.

caleb exhaled sharply and caved.

“fine,” he grumbled, defeated. “you win. whatever it is, just—just tell me what you want again.”

your face lit up, and caleb felt his heart clench. you looked so happy, so radiant, that he almost forgot why he had refused you in the first place.

“really?” you beamed.

he sighed, looking away like he couldn’t bear to witness his own downfall. “yeah, yeah, whatever. just stop looking at me like that.”

you giggled, leaning up on your toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “you’re the best, caleb.”

he groaned, hand softly grazing over the spot you just kissed, knowing full well he had no one to blame but himself. "no, i'm weak."

and yet, deep down, he knew he’d give in to you every single time. without a doubt, he’d fall for your pout every single time.

[3416]

Auston Matthews on Mitch's OT goal for Team Canada | 02.13.25

[sengenism]

just me and my bestie faking our deaths by padding our weakling chests

[greenglowinspooks]

Barry (he’s babysitting (Eo dropped Danny off at his house and left before he could be questioned)): So you were stolen?

Danny: I think so? Like, legally. I actually went to Eo for help because he’s the cool uncle but I’m not legally sapient or sentient so I don’t know. Maybe?

Wally (came over when he heard abt Eo and Danny): Huh. I don’t think that’s theft, maybe more like if someone drops a dollar or paper or something, it flies off, and someone else picks it up? Like, the dollar moved without anyone doing anything.

Barry: Sorry, can we go back to “not legally sapient or sentient”?

Danny: No. Anyways I was specifically GiW property so I don’t know how that would hold up in court.

Bart (eating everything in the fridge): What’s a GiW??

Danny: Government losers. They’re like, this super lame agency active in my town.

Bart: Ohhhhh, yeah it’s probably still theft then. ‘Cause, like, the government doesn’t like it when you pick up government stuff. You can take stuff off the ground all the time, but if it’s government property you usually have to give it back or they start shooting. That’s happened to me before :)

Barry: You—Bart, we’re talking about that later—Danny, can I please get some clarification on-

Wally: Yeah, but you wouldn’t be stealing it, you’d just not be giving it to the “rightful owner” when they showed up to claim it, and if the GiW or whatever haven’t shown up to get Danny back, then it’s not a crime. Sidenote, it’s kinda weird to talk about an actual dude having an owner.

Bart: Okay but then when they did show up and you didn’t give him back, then it’s stealing.

Wally: No, it’s gotta be something else, I’m gonna look it up.

Danny: Thanks for feeding me by the way. Eo does too but he’s really bad at cooking so it’s usually either bland or really gross. Not like I can do any better, but still.

Barry: Danny please

Hey. Shakes you by the shoulders. DCxDP where Eobard Thawne is Danny’s cool distant “uncle” that he never sees but always sends in the coolest gifts for the holidays.

~

Danny had grown used to seeing people injured at a surprisingly young age.

He wasn’t injured on the regular, or witness to some sort of extraordinary amount of violence; his parents’ lab was just… very volatile, and they were unprofessionally lax on safety measures on the best of days.

As such, when he saw an unconscious, incredibly injured man wearing some sort of superhero suit in their backyard in the early hours of the morning (he had gotten up to get a glass of water when he heard a thump outside), he didn’t panic, as any young child should have in his situation.

No. Instead, Danny dragged the man inside (with considerable difficulty; despite how thin he was, he was heavy), treated his wounds as best he could (it’s difficult for a child younger than 10 to do stitches, you understand), put a blanket over the man, and went back to bed.

After losing a fight to the Flash and passing out in a random suburban lawn, the last thing Eobard was expecting to wake up to was a small child sitting on the floor in front of him, noisily eating a bowl of cereal.

(He had thought, maybe he would have been found by the Flash and brought to some Justice League holding cell. Or, found by a civilian, and brought to the police. Perhaps, in his feverish state, he had remembered the prison he ended up in from his time, with their brands and chemicals and torturous therapies.)

For some unknown reason, this child had found him, not recognized him as the monster he is (perhaps due to the boy’s age), and helped him—even if his healing factor would have fixed him eventually, having all his parts in the right order certainly sped up the process.

Usually he wouldn’t care for civilians. He’d killed enough that he’d lost count what felt like an eternity ago—and yet, somehow, he felt indebted to this boy. This boy, who had helped him so selflessly, who was so entirely clueless to the evil right in front of him.

This boy, who was all alone in an empty house, whose sister was away, whose parents had gone on a trip and left him behind.

(It didn’t matter the explanation the boy gave for it, Eobard’s mind whispered to itself regardless. Kin. Like calling to like.)

And so, he worked hard to free himself from this debt he had incurred.

He traveled through time, working his way into the family whilst posing as a distant relative. It was remarkably easy; the Fentons didn’t have an incredible memory of their relatives; all he had to do was forge a few papers and mention a few people and he was now “Uncle Eo”.

It was, however, taxing on the mind. These people were absurdly friendly, not to mention talkative. The effort had become a multi-year operation, popping in every now and then for large family gatherings and home visits.

It felt… nice, to be wanted for once. To be noticed in his absence for more than just his status.

To be liked.

He made sure to send the boy a gift on the right holidays, as well as on his birthdays. With his skillset, it wasn’t too difficult to follow him around and see what he liked and wanted. It also wasn’t difficult to spy in when he opened them, to ensure that he had done an acceptable job.

Of course, he couldn’t let this sort of thing cut into his time spent fighting the Flash, so he wasn’t too present. The last thing he wanted was to drag trouble into the boy’s life from his presence.

But then, it happened.

He found out that this boy, and the one known in his time as Phantom, were one and the same.

It was, as a historian, thrilling.

It was, as a villain, horrifying.

In all his travels, he had never intended to involve himself with that mysterious being which shadowed the Justice League. That ghost with the power, in some timelines, to bring about the end of all things.

Of course, he was also capable of doing that, but it isn’t exactly fun to meet someone who’s powers are a match for your own.

Especially if you couldn’t find it in yourself to end him, should he make himself your enemy.

Still, he had a debt to repay, and a boy to look after.

He delivered things to the boy’s room to help him; tactical gloves, a lightweight protective suit, weapons and equipment. All uncredited, since the boy seemed to value the idea of a secret identity.

He took it upon himself to shift the odds in his favor a few times, even; making faster-than-light adjustments to the boy and his combatants during fights to shift the odds in his favor.

Somewhere along the years, he had formed some sort of odd affection for the boy, if he was capable of doing so at all.

And so, when that ghost-boy sought his Uncle Eo out all the way in Central City, carved open and scarred, a distant look in his eyes, he took him in without a second thought.

He would protect this boy, who once had protected him.

[minorlyatfault]

'𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐈 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄, 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐔𝐏 ! j. todd x fem!reader

𝓢ynposis: jason todd has never had a knack for soft things. love has always seemed like something he might shatter if he gripped it too hard. but tonight, he allows himself to believe in it. in you. in the way you looks at him as if he's something worth loving. he observes you, yearns for you, & knows you're his favorite type of chaos. he promises he'll worship you in every quiet manner he can▰until the night is over, until the world disappears, until all that remains is your name on his lips.

𝓘n which: how you & jason todd have an indoors date.

𝓦arnings: grammatical errors. ooc(?). slightly spicy(? i don't write smut.) lots of percy jackson references.

𝓝ote:

001: happy valentine's day!!

002: thank you, @auriieee , for brainstorming w me onf

003: i don't wanna talk abt how manytimes i had to upload this.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

he doesn't move, only stares. you're still wrapped beside him, hair spread across the pillow, lips slightly open. it's not fair how easy you look(absolutely ethereal.). not fair how easy it is to love you.(& that it seemed so easy for you to love him.)

jason takes a slow breath, fighting the urge to run his fingers over your skin. you'd wake up, & the morning peace would be shattered. he doesn't want that▰oh no, not yet.

instead, he watches, memorizing every little thing about you.(as if he doesn't stare at you all the time).

you roll over, sleepy hum on your lips as your fingers brush his chest, curling into his shirt. jason freezes, heart pounding a little too hard.

"mm.. morning," you mumble, voice thick with sleep.

jason swallows. "morning, princess."

your eyes crack open, still half-asleep, & jason has to fight to breathe normally. he's so, so screwed.

you stretch, arms above your head, a soft yawn escapes your lips. jason runs a hand down his face, fighting the need to look anywhere but your exposed skin.

"you okay?" you ask, eyes flicking over to him▰ head tilting

jason huffs, turning away. "yeah. just thinking."

"thinking about what?"

how good you'd look under him.(you look good all the time, though. saying that would be pointless.)

jason clenches his jaw. "breakfast."

you grin. "jason todd, are you really saying we should eat something in the morning?"

jason groans, pushing a pillow over his face.

you just laugh, getting out of bed. jason watches you go, something warm stabbing in his chest.

yeah. he's really, really screwed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"jay, stop eating the cookie dough."

jason freezes, mouth already full.

you narrow your eyes at him, hands on hips. "i saw that."

jason swallows. "i have no idea what you're talking about."

you jab a spoon at him. "you're gonna make yourself sick."

jason smirks. "worried about me, doll?"

you roll your eyes but don't complain. instead, you go back to work on the cookies, shaping them carefully onto the tray. jason has his arms crossed against the counter, just watching you.

"you take this too seriously," he growls.

"they have to be perfect."

"for percy jackson?"

you nod, face dead serious. “perseus jackson would be so proud. so will sally.”

jason snorts.

still, he loves this▰loves to see you so lost in the little things. you hum under your breath as you work, completely caught up in your own world.

jason's chest tightens.

he's so intent on watching you that he doesn't even catch the blue food coloring until you swipe it across his cheek.

jason blinks. "did you just▰?"

you gasp in a dramatic pose. "oh, no, my hand slipped!"

jason grins. "you think that's funny?"

you don't even get to make a run for it. jason picks up the open bag of flour & pours a handful right on top of your head.

your shriek is instant. "jason peter todd!"

what results is a full-blown battle of manhattan. flour, sugar, chocolate chip cookies, food coloring▰it's all fair game.

ahem, we're off track.

by the time the battle is over, you're both covered with blue food coloring & dusted with flour.

jason laughs, gasping for air, as he watches you scrub flour from your face.

you look up at him, cheeks flushed, hair mussed, & jason swears his heart just stops.

gods, you're beautiful.

"you good?" you ask, still grinning.

jason swallows hard. "yeah. just▰"

he doesn't get any further. just moves forward, reaching up to push a stray lock of hair behind your ear. your breathing pauses, smile faltering.

jason exhales slowly.

"let's get these in the oven," he clears his throat, voice rough.

you nod, cheeks still flushed. jason watches as you carefully place the cookies on the tray & slide them into the oven.

& the whole time, he can't help but wonder at how soft you felt beneath his hands.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the cookies bake. you sit on the counter, legs dangling, eyes shining. jason leans against you, arms crossed, eyes on you more than on anything else.

"it smells so good," you say, breathing deep.

jason smirks. "not bad for a total disaster."

you kick him with your foot. "well, we make a good team."

jason huffs. "yeah. we do."

something about the thought makes his throat close up.

you don't notice. you're too busy gazing at the timer, too giddy in the simple joy of baking. jason continues watching you. like you're some eclipse that he couldn't take his eyes off even if there's consequences.

then, beep.

you light up, bouncing nearly, as you take the cookies out of the oven. jason fights the urge to grin, watching as you put them on the counter to cool.

"yeah, percy jackson would absolutely be proud of me," you say, grinning.

jason shakes his head. "you're ridiculous."

you just stick your tongue out at him.

& jason▰jason▰thinks he might be coming apart at the seams.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

jason watches as you pipe blue icing onto the cake, brow furrowed in concentration.

"you don't need both cookies & cake," he teases.

you gasp. "blasphemy."

jason chuckles, dipping a finger into the icing▰then tracing it along your cheek.

your eyes go wide. "again!?"

you don't even hesitate. your fingers smear frosting along his jaw, & jason barely has time to react before you're laughing.

jason doesn't think. he just acts.

he catches your wrist, pulling you in, his other hand tracing along your waist. your laughter stops, breath catching.

"you gonna fight me on this?" he breathes, voice dropping.

you swallow hard.

jason smirks. & then he kisses you.

it's slow▰teasing, in fact. his lips hovering, his hand gripping around your waist, pulling you in close. he hears your breathing pause, feels the way your fingers clutch into his shirt.

when he finally stops, his voice is rough.

"thought so."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the movie runs, but jason is not watching it. his eyes are on you.

the way you snuggle into him. the way your fingers absentmindedly draws circles onto his leg. the way your breathing stalls every time his hand falls lower.

jason exhales slowly.

"jay?"

your voice is rough. he looks down.

"this was a good day," you whisper.

jason swallows. "yeah. it was."

you smile. then, so soft he barely hears it▰

"i love you."

jason freezes.

you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world.(it is.)

jason gasps for air. "say it again."

you raise your head. "i love you."

jason kisses you.

it's not slow this time. it's desperate. his hands in your hair, pressing you in deeper, closer. your fingers grabbing his shoulders, nails biting deep into his flesh.

he groans.

you taste sweet▰like frosting & something else. something his.

jason shifts, pushing you into the couch, his weight solid over you. his fingers tease under your shirt, skimming your skin

your breath stutters. "jason▰"

"you sure?" he rasps.

your fingers tighten against his back. "yes."

jason exhales shakily.

he trails his lips down your neck, savoring, worshiping. his fingers press into your skin, memorizing every inch of you. adoring you.

& when he looks at you▰

flushed, breathless, his▰he realizes he never stood a chance.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

sunlight entering your room. jason wakes up next to you.

& gods.

maybe he doesn’t deserve this.

but for you?

he’ll try.

[idekwthmuistb]

Ok so I got started on dog breeds for the batfam and I know that there have been thoughts abt it before so here are mine! (Also fair warning I go off a mixture of vibes, looks, and basic breed temperment AND im not a dog breed specialist or anything like that, im pretty much just using the akc website for these breeds)

I'm gonna start with Alfred, honestly I was at first thinking a burmese or standard poodle but they just weren't really clicking right. Eventually I settled on him being either a schnauzer or terrier which helped narrow my options greatly! Looking through them all I decided the Giant Shnauzer suited him best in the end. The breed is very loyal, hard-working, and can be quite the guard!

Alfred - Giant Shnauzer:

I saw a post saying Bruce would be a Belgian Sheepdog and at first I completely agreed due to their looks but when I learned a bit more about their personality i was like hmmm so I went looking for something more in line with how I see him. Belgium Teruven popped up right after, and though similar, I thought it fit him better. Honestly could have just been due to the different wording but I like them better for Bruce regardless lol

Bruce - Belgian Teruven:

Dick was surprisingly a LOT harder than I thought he'd be. There were three breeds I got stuck between: the Dalmation, Mudi, and Norwegian elkhound. All very different dogs by all means yet each fit him quite well. I dismissed Dalmation first, though they're agile, they weren't quite friendly enough. Mudi was next for much the same reasons. It was around this time that I had also started considering a Great Pyrenees for him, seeing as they are known as both loving and vicious–though I ended up not going with it because they're a bit too calm (hm maybe alfred should be a Pyrenees instead?). That left me with the Norwegian Elhound. The breed is very dependable, friendly, and just fits his vibes looks-wise.

Dick - Norwegian Elkhound:

I know most people give Jason a mixed breed or just say he's a mutt because he came from a lower-income household but honestly that doesn't sit well with me, especially when we're giving the others their own breeds. As soon as I found the Anatolian Shepard I was like YES THATS HIM!! They're a large breed that is fiercely protective of their herd and are very loyal and independent. They'll protect what's theirs and are surprising nimble!

Jason - Anatolian Shepard:

Cass was honestly quite difficult for me. I quickly crossed out any typical herding breeds (Shepards, Collies, ect ect) and sight-hounds because she was raised to be LETHAL and I know that any breed can be deadly if trained right (or wrong) they just weren't what I was looking for. I played around with a few breeds like the akita, or a basenji, but they weren't quite right. But then, I came across a breed named Kai Ken. They're a medium sized dog, originating in Japan and used for hunting a wide range of animals in Japan's mountains. The Kai Ken are extremely versatile (they're known to CLIMB TREES) and loving of their family. They are also born completely black but develope a subtle brindle coat that helps them camouflage and I just think that's SO COOL???

Cass - Kai Ken:

Now, I'll be real with yall, I don't know much about Duke and wasn't really looking for a breed for him because of that but I came across one that clicked with him in my mind? The breed is called Large Munsterlander which is just a wild name BUT they're very cooperative and calm. This breed is very versatile and are meant for hunting–they're sense of smell is impressive and they're quite determined when it comes to hunting and retrieving any game.

Duke - Large Munsterlander:

Tim Tim Timothy, though high-class, I honestly thought at first that he'd be a Border Collie. However, as I was perusing dog breeds, I realized that the Collie was only representing half of him, as it didn't really match his looks or vibes, merely his personality. So I thought and thought and then–BAM, my brain gave me two choices, the Ibizan Hound or the Pharoah Hound. After figuring out that they were quite similar in personality, I decided to go with the Ibizan Hound. Funnily enough, they can be very attached but not prone to overtly showing it!

Tim - Ibizan Hound:

Now, Damian is a little trickier because I could fully see him taking after Bruce in having the same breed both bc they're blood related and just the vibes but, though I couldn't find much information on them, based on my personal experience with them I do think the Black Mouth Cur would be a good match up to Damian. They can be very territorial of people and things they think is theirs if not properly socialized. Otherwise they'll be very loving and protective of those they've deemed family and are built for hunting large game that are common around farms.

Damian - Black Mouth Cur:

And then here's some miscellaneous people

-Talia and Ra's I could see being Salukis

-Stephanie is perhaps a Portuguese Podengo, scrappy

-Barbara is a Redbone Coonhound all the way

-Roy is a Finish Spitzin my eyes

-Clark gives Dogo Argentino

-Diana feels like a Leonberger

-Oliver is possibly a Berger Picard

-Hal is definitely a Ridgeback, stubborn lol

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Btw Evie didn’t want Steve to go to the rumble. She usually doesn’t mind that he fights, but she didn’t want him in the rumble- after Bob died, she couldn’t stop wondering what she’d do if Steve died. Couldn’t stop looking at Cherry Valance, thinking that could be me someday, and feeling sick to her stomach.

She told him he better not go because nothing good would come of it. He told her she was being a square. So she took off his momma’s ring and set it on her windowsill- not enough to say “we’re through”, but enough to warn him.

After everything happened, after Dally and Johnny died, after Steve cracked his ribs and got a tooth knocked outta his skull, he sat alone on the Curtises’ couch and called her, sobbing. She didn’t say “I told you so”, only told him to come on over.

Later, they’ll discuss it more, whether Steve wants to or not. Later, they’ll maybe even argue about it more. But for now, Evie just holds him close and lets him cry.

in other words im just thinkin abt how awful it’s gotta be to be the gf of pretty much anyone in this book lol- like wtf imagine how all the other girls must’ve felt after seeing Cherry’s bf, king Soc, practically, just…dead?

Anyway that’s pretty much the plot of the fic im working on rn- it’s in Steve’s pov, but I just read through the draft and holy shit Evie’s pov would be so much more interesting tbh

(edit- fic for this is up now here!)

[sturniolo04]

hii this is my first request, hope u can make it, so i was thinking in today’s video abt matt wanting to cook for reader but he doesn’t know how so he asks reader to give him instruccions but he doesn’t want her to do anything

Bf!Matt x Gf!Reader

A/N: yes!! I love this request!! I hope you enjoy it! I put a little spin on it!-Charli

Dividers: @issysh3ll

Dating Matt came with its fair share of comical moments, which made this moment no different.

it was Friday evening and Matt had come over to your house to spend the weekend with you and he was in the process of what you could only assume was cooking dinner for you two.

"okay so the noodles are done cooking i think"

matt announces uncertain as he holds out the now drained pasta noodles in front of your figure that was sitting on your marble countertop.

"yeah it looks right youre doing a great job"

you trail off hopping off of the countertop to cut up from vegetables to go into the pasta his was making.

"what are you doing"

matt questions quirking up an eyebrow at you as you close the refrifgerator.

"i am going to cute the vetegtables to go in the pasta"

you simply state, shrugging your shoulders.

"nuh uh no you are not"

matt states coming over and slightly nudging his hip into yours moving you away from the cooking area.

"what matt come on let me do it"

you whine out trying to nudge you way back to the cooking area.

"no im supposed to be cooking you dinner tonight not the other way around"

matt chuckles out.

"yeah i know but i want to help I'm bored matt"

you state trying to reason with your boyfriend

"no Kayla just sit"

he states hoisting you up by the hips and placing you on top of the countertop you were sitting on earlier as you giggle in the process.

"mattheww"

you whine out dragging out the 'w' in his name as you huff out giving up.

Matt finally finished cooking the dinner for you two as he plated the dish.

"here your go sweetheart"

he states holding the bowl of pasta out to you as you simple reject it folding your arms over your chest letting out a small huff of disagreement.

"no thank you"

you state stubbornly.

"what seriously come on its really good"

matt persuades you as he shuffles his way between your legs dangling off of the countertop.

"i know it is but you didnt let me help"

Kayla whines out.

"i know princess im sorry you can help with dinner tomorrow"

matt states trying to meet you halfway.

"promise"

you ask.

"promise sweetheart"

matt chuckles out as you finally take the bowl of pasta from his hands rolling your eyes as he sits next to you on the countertop.

Taglist

@mintsturniolo @emely9274 @stayingstromboli @wh0resstuff

@chaoswithus @ivysturnss @ksturnz @spicymuffins03

[leeknowsnot]

SKZ when you suddenly call them with their full name

I am posting every entry I have written in my notes app to make it up to you guys. 😭😭😭 Anyway, happy hearts day to everyone!!

CHAN

— his eyebrows are immediately raised and he's looking at you like "Did you just call me with my full name?" with eyes wide enough for you to poke them

— you pretend you don't hear him and just continue on with talking to him and calling him Christopher

— he's immediately on your tail like a kid, asking the same question all over again you can't help but pinch yourself to stop yourself from giggling at how cute he is

— he calls you all sorts of cute nicknames to make you surrender to his cuteness

— eventually you do give up and when you start calling him back with your nickname for him, oh my God he smiles at you so cutely you could just dive into his dimples

— you are spoiled

MINHO

— definitely the type to call you back with your full name

— you challenged the wrong person, now he's gonna be the one who'll call your full name with EVERY sentence he'd say until you admit defeat iT BACKFIRED SO BAD

— evERY CHANCE HE GETS HE'S GONNA DO IT

— especially when you guys are out with friends, he's gonna call your full name WITH YOUR MIDDLE NAME people are gonna start staring

— you start ignoring him whenever he calls you your full name on purpose and oh does that annoy him eventually

— the audacity to ignore him and be annoyed with him when you were the one who started this little game, right?

— "kitten got a taste of her own medicine?"

— he's gonna punish you for being such a bad kitty wink w0nk

CHANGBIN

— his pouts are aLL OVER THE PLACE

— whoever sees him gets a free show over a man with biceps pouting like the big baby he is

— he'd feel a bit off at first but eventually gets used to it eventually cause he dares not to pick on how you want to call him

— even if it's a bit weird, he'll tolerate and learn to accept it if that's what you want

— tELL HIM IT'S JUST A PRANK HE'S TOO WHOLESOME FOR THIS WORLD 😠

— would be weirded out again trying to adjust to being called with his nickname again when you finally stop with your prank

HYUNJIN

— will give you an offended stare as if you just committed a sin

— no cuddles for u because he said you're not his gf and says he doesn't know u

— he's gonna make such a big deal abt it to the point Chan would be calling you in the middle of the night asking you if you guys fought cause Hyunjin's acting so weird, like he's so pouty and edgy

— so when you said it's only because you called him by his government name for a prank, Chan L O S E S it

— you'd find a pouty Hyunjin in the morning, complaining cause Chan gave him an earful for maging a big deal out of your prank

— he basically forgot you were the one who started it . at least he's pouty over Chan instead of you anymore

HAN

— waterworks EVERYWHERE

— how dare you make him cry

— the moment you call him Han Jisung it's over for him

— the London Bridge is falling, Eiffel Tower is collapsing, the icebergs are melting

— "Is he better than me? Is he treating you better at least?"

— sTARTS ASKING QUESTIONS THAT SOUNDS LIKE YOU LOVE SOMEONE ELSE NOW BC HE'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH AND HE THINKS YOU DESERVE BETTER

— expect him pulling all-nighters writing a sad love song

— when you explain to him that it was just a prank, he immediately bursts into tears, either in relief that you still love him or bc you messed with his feelings 💀

— how dare you make him cry pt.2

— turns the sad love song that he wrote into a body roll song

FELIX

— he immediately catches on and knows it's a popular prank trend amongst couples so he plays along

— but ofc he's still making sure it really is a prank and you're not actually mad at him

— your friends would be looking at you both weirdly and think you guys have broken up but maintained good friendship

— his friends only know you by nickname so when they saw your caller id on Felix's phone and it was your actual full name, they were having multiple question marks as to why Felix was being all so chummy and sweet with this (Y/N) on the phone

— the next time you meet them they'd be shaking while trying to tell you that Felix has been cheating on you with someone named (Y/N)

— oh my God you and Felix die from laughter

SEUNGMIN

— tbh he doesn't care

— he'd been trying to get you to stop calling him smookie poo, pookie, moochie bear, and all sorts of nicknames the past weeks so this was actually a win situation for him

— he enjoys it too much he starts frowning at you when you go back to calling him the nicknames

— "Where'd the 'Yah, Kim Seungmin' go?"

— 10 out of 10 he loves the prank, would definitely avail for more 💀

— Now he won't stop demanding you to do it again

I.N

— immediately thinks he did something wrong but he just sITS THERE PROCESSING AND STARING AT YOU WITH HIS FAKE EYES OPEN

— he'd malfunction so bad how can you do this to him

— he's already clumsy as is but bc you're making him overthink, he's unintentionally breaking and dropping stuff all over the place

— in the "is-she breaking-up-with-me/did-she-find-someone-better" lineup

— he doesn't show it tho

— he tries not to at least

— would send you all sorts of gifts; flowers, chocolates, champagne, stuffed toys, you name it—it's his love language

— he'd actually try to win you back from this "new guy"

— when you tell him it's just a prank, he doesn't talk to u for a few days and gives you the silent treatment

— i mean, you obviously had it coming

[regrowth-collective]

I wanna try !! - Salem ❤️ — Mmm Kit and Flare are co-hosts, we used to have two cohosts when we first realised we were a system too, but they're gone now.

🧡 — Ahh, we used to have a sidesystem a long time ago, I think? They called themselves the Nimbus System

💛 — Not that we know of

💚 — Yes, but it's not very well-developed! We're trying to make it more developed

💙 — Not really i dont think

💜 — Age cloudy is what it's called i think, it's not very clear what age most of us are.

🤎 — me n kit are both otherkin but of different things, flare doesn't really identify with it the same way, and idk abt windy

🖤 — not sure, maybe more that are better at expressing emotions?

🤍 — nono

💌 — i like mnine the best! we're all pretty similar, but mine's a little less spiky, kit's is like kiki and mine is more like bouba

💐 — Kit is really good at math and me n flare aren't if that counts!

🌹 — nope :>

🥀 — no, our headspace looks like a cabin from the outside (we don't have a lotta experience with cabins) and the inside is a gigantic non-euclidean kinda apartment building (none of us have ever lived in an apartment building)

🌺 — nope! we're all queer

🌷 — nuh-uh

🌸 — nooo

🌻 —n/a

🌼 — a bunch of roommates all in the same head, n we're basically a family

🌑 — n/a

🌒 — flare! he looks like a flareon in headspace but nobody really knows why, nor does he think of himself as one

🌓 — not that we know of

🌔 — uh-uh

🌕 — no

🍎 — n/a

🍏 — according to our old pk, we have 59 at one point. then we were a singlet for a while, now there's 4 of us we know of

🍋 — we used to have one that had always been thjere- there was this well and also an apartment building but different, but now we have to work harder on developing it. the old one doesnt exist anymore

🍍 — we're atheist mainly but there are a lot of elements of spirituality, we've never touched on what we all believe in really

🍉 — not that we know of, n we probably dont need it, either, cause theres so few of us!

🫐 — we explained it poorly to our sibling and they were confused and i think by now they forgot, which is good. we're not publicly out anymore, we hope everyone we told forgot

🍒 — nope!

PLURAL ASK GAME (30 questions)

Have an ask game we came up with while waiting around at the hospital today!!!

Remember to practice reblog karma!!*

*reblog karma does not apply to us/the original post, but you're free to send us asks anyways; and if you do, send them to @thecorpsefactory

❤️ — How many hosts do you currently have, and how many have you had in total?

🧡 — Do any of your hosts (current or previous) have sub/side/hemi/etc-system(s)?

💛 — Do people in your system retire from their roles/'jobs' often/do you have a high turnover rate?

💚 — Do you have an inner world? If so how many? And can you (or any headmate) control any of them?

💙 — If there are certain plural terms that your system doesn't like what are they? And why?

💜 — Do you have any age or age-identity that has more people aligning with it than others? (i.e. more 16 year olds than anything, more agesliders, etc)

🤎 — Is your system collectively any form of otherkin or therian? If so how did you figure out you were that collectively? And do any individual headmates not identify with it?

🖤 — Is there any type of role or headmate you wish you had more of? (i.e. more protectors, more traumaholders, more endogenic headmates, more walk-ins, etc)

🤍 — Do you have any system visitors? (i.e. someone who doesn't live in your system but stops by sometimes— doesn't have to be able to front)

💌 — Are there distinctions between headmates' handwriting? If so who has the worst handwriting? And who has the best?

💐 — Are there any headmates who can do something IRL that the rest can't? (i.e. sing, use chopsticks, dance, do math, etc)

🌹 — Any headmates have over 20 different names?

🥀 — If you have an inner world are there any places from real life that are there? Or any places inspired by real life?

🌺 — If you're a primarily queer system, are there any cishets? And if you're a primarily cishet system are there any queer headmates?

🌷 — Are there any multisourced headmates with over 15 different sources?

🌸 — Is there anyone taller than 60ft/18.2m?

🌻 — If you use emojis (or other symbols) to indicate headmates, have there ever been fights over who gets what?

🌼 — If you could describe your system in words that have nothing to do with plurality or spirituality, how would you?

🌑 — What's the most obscure source anyone has? (OCs do not count)

🌒 — Do you have anyone who wants nothing to do with their source, and doesn't identity with it, but still uses with their name and/or appearance from their source?

🌓 — Do any headmates have allergies that carry over to the body when fronting? If so do they act like normal allergies or are they more 'mild'?

🌔 — Are there any headmates who struggle with modern technology? If so why?

🌕 — Can anyone speak any languages in headspace that they can't speak bodily?

🍎 — If you experience amnesia barriers, are there any headmates who have inconsistent barriers? (i.e. sometimes sharing memories fine, other times being unable to, only being able to share with a select few, etc)

🍏 — What is the highest amount of headmates you've ever had at any given moment? And what is the lowest amount you've had at any given moment?

🍋 — If you have an inner world, has it always been there? Or did you have to work to create it?

🍍 — If you're religious, do any of your headmates practice a religion different from your collective one?

🍉 — If you have an inner world, do you have inner variants of social media or other forms of digital contact? (i.e. phones, laptops, etc)

🫐 — If you're publicly a system, who was the first person(s) you told? And why? What was their reaction?

🍒 — Do you have any headmates that originate from a system other than your own, but now reside within yours?

[ PLAIN TEXT ] We Are A Diagnosed Traumagenic DID System We Are Pro Endogenic And You Will Not Change Our Mind If You Harass Us You Give Us Consent To Harass You Back

[hughesmuse86]

hi! it’s actually valentines already in my country. do you have any jack hughes thots abt valentines?? im honestly thinking of how he would react if he would be the recipient of flowers instead acccckkkk thank u in advance!

Awww I love this 💕 Happy Valentine’s Day bb!! I hope you have the best day. <3

+18 → smut | fluffy + a little suggestive/no smut. Jack just being the best boyfriend ever

unedited

𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓗𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

So, I’m thinking about Jack already being a little in his head about being away from you this Valentine's Day, especially since he was with you last year, and it went so well.

But now, he’s far away and determined to make it special nonetheless. He knows where you’ll be throughout the day and is already on top of it. He hid a wrapped gift in his nightstand, texting you when he knew you woke up every morning.

Jack: Hey baby, Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope you slept well. I miss you so much. Look in my nightstand. I left something for you.

And, then you go to work, and he’s right there, sending you your coffee order.

Jack: Hope you're having a good day baby.

Then, at the end of the day, you walk to your front door and see your favorite flowers waiting for you.

Wish I was there holding these for you. Miss you like crazy, princess. Can’t wait to be home.

Love, Jack

Right when you’re about to call, you get a text on your phone that has you giggling because the man is so baffled.

Jack: Please do not tell me I sent these flowers to myself

Jack: Please tell me you got yours, baby. I’m losing my shit.

You: Look at the card jack 💕

Your phone starts ringing instantly, and his face lights up your screen, with a FaceTime. You accept it and he’s just staring at the ground, his brows pinched together, his pretty blue eyes blinking a few times.

“You—You bought these for me?” He asks, still confused. “Did you… Uh—Are you trying to tell me somethin’, pretty,” he asks as he picks them up off the ground, holding the delicate bouquet in his big hand.

“Tell you what?” You giggle.

“I don’t know,” he asks, studying the arrangement as he walks into his hotel room. “Maybe you didn’t think I was gonna send you some. And you were tryin’ to make it a point… Like, umm… ‘this is what I wanted you to send me earlier, Jack,’” he copies your gentler tone.

“No, baby,” you sigh, “I just wanted to send you something nice. I think you’ve taken care of me plenty today,” you smile as you cuddle up on the couch.

“Now, you’re takin’ care of me, huh?”

“Mhmm…” You hum happily, watching as he blushes a bit.

”They’re pretty,” he mumbles in his raspy voice, fighting back a smile that he has to half-cover with his hand.

“So are yours, baby.” You flip the camera around, showing off the flowers he got you.

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

“So are you.”

Your doorbell will ring, and like clockwork, Jack will get a knock at his door. He will accept his room service while you take Jack's food from Uber Eats.

He can hardly contain his smile because he gets to see you light up over something he did for you. Just another surprise from him. Perfectly planned—even though he’s miles and miles away he wants to have dinner with you.

I think the rest of the night would be made up of the two of you catching up on your day and his. Maybe a little phone sex because he loves talking you through it. 🤭💕

Oh and thinking about how excited he’d get about you sneaking a gift in his luggage. Maybe in a side pocket you know he wouldn’t touch with a sweet card, some pictures you shot of yourself in a red lingerie set he’s never seen, or in his jersey showing off his name on the back because he LOVES that, and something sentimental of course—maybe cufflinks for his game-day suit with your initials together.

I just think he’d be the perfect Valentine. 💕💕💕

[noirsdoll]

just a quick drabble abt reader picking up prison!jimmy from jail!

(for context this is an au where he went to jail for what he did to anya. cw for mentioned rape/abuse and smoking)

His hair could do with a trim.

Jimmy’s thrown it into a bun that’s more of a limp knot than anything— jagged strands frame his constant grimace and splotchy stick-and-pokes peek out from under his collar. 

He put on muscle, it surprises you. The man’s only ever been a deadbeat to you, you’re shocked his eyes even had the strength to look at a barbell. The fat jokes you brainstormed on the way here promptly die on your tongue. 

There’s a nasty split in his lip and a bruise frames his cheekbone like crappy blush. He's wearing the same leather jacket that he had on when he got arrested, it's gray on the shoulders from water damage. Ratty jeans and even rattier sneakers— at least he’s not sagging. 

The automated slammer doors roll shut behind him with a beep. He shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet and pretending like you’re not the only one standing here to pick him up. 

“Over here, sweetie.” You snap your fingers at him like you’re calling a dog with a toy in its mouth. “Hurry up— I’m double-parked.”

You turn without checking if he’s following you— Orpheus has nothing on you. His grunt of annoyance confirms there is a cat in your box. 

You pop your gum, rounding the hood to the driver’s seat. The keychains on your keys jingle as you unlock your car. It’s one more accident from falling apart, your wheel’s missing its horn and the entire radio unit’s been stolen. 

Spitting the gum onto the pavement, you slide in front of the wheel. Jimmy stands awkwardly outside the shotgun door— it’s still locked because you think it’s funny that he gets so annoyed when it is. 

Your shiny pumps stomp down on the gas and you pull out onto the street, clearly speeding along the barren road. Jimmy stares out the window with his arms crossed, giving you the silent treatment you expected. You watch the plains melt into shitty residential areas and the street lanes get more crowded. At a red light, you light one of your many cigarettes of the day. 

After a moment, he reaches for your cigarette like a greedy toddler, you swat his hand away without a glance. With the cigarette tucked firmly between your lips, you complete a two-handed turn onto your driveway. 

Jimmy kicks over one of your lawn gnomes on your way to the door— for looking at him funny, you guess. You pay it no mind.

“Your room’s exactly how you left it,” you say, tossing your keys by the door.

When he doesn't answer, you turn to face him. “What, so you’re just not gonna say anything to me now?”

“You could’ve paid my bail,” he says quietly, malice tinting his voice.

“You could’ve not gotten arrested.” You lean on the kitchen counter and light a fresh cigarette as soon as the current one fizzles out. “God, Jimmy, do something with your life, why don’t you?”

He stands there on the other side of the room, staring at the ground, silent. The way he gets when you’re right and have talked him into a corner. You’re angry now, continuing the tirade.

“Two years, Jimmy. Christ—,”  You run a frustrated hand through your hair. “Do you expect people to always just clean up after you?”

“I didn’t ask you to wait.”

“But you wanted me to, right?”

He snorts. “You act like you know me.”

“I clearly don’t! You got that girl pregnant, Jim. That poor fucking girl, God, I— I can’t believe you.”

His eyebrows twitch in surprise. “She got pregnant?”

You nod. “She kept the baby. The kid’s sixteen months old.”

“Oh, and you two are friends now?” Jimmy asks cooly.

“The least I could do was help out after what you did.” You scoff. ”Why’d you even do it in the first place? Am I not enough for you?”

Jimmy half-rolls his eyes. “Did I ever say that?”

You can’t believe this is the man you waited for all this time. “Don’t you feel ashamed? Remorseful? Anything?”

“I was fucking drunk, okay? I don’t wanna talk about this again—”

Your eyes go wide in shock. “Being drunk doesn’t make you stick your dick in the first pussy you see! It doesn’t make you strangle a girl half to death!” You bury your face in your hands, tears swimming in your vision. “God, Jim. Fuck. Fuck!”

Jimmy walks closer, draping his arms around you. “Don’t… cry, please.” It’s said with as much empathy as he can garner— a net total of zero.

“I shouldn’t be here right now. I fucking shouldn’t.” You look up at him with glossy eyes. Your cigarette blazes out in your limp hand, all but forgotten. 

Your hand cups his face, running your thumb over his prickly stubble, catching on his fresh shaving nicks. He tried to shave for you today. He tried.

You look away. “I fucking hate you. I hate you.”

“I know.”

[stargirl7856]

7x06 - The Gala Review

OMGGGGGGGGG

Chenford: their hook up was so hot. they’d sex. i hate that they’re avoiding the talk but im not shocked. It parallels their dynamic in early s5 Also Lucy saying don’t look me at like that is in a way putting up her walls. I think it was funny that everyone was calling chenford out. Tim saying i wasn’t grumpy last night. ughhh!!! the scene of them in bed pOst sex said sm!! eric & melissa are such great actors and have inSAnE chemistry.

ThE elevator scene!! i need them t talk! Tim wanting to taLk is

growth. also the pROmO for 7x7. tim saying don’t make the same mistake i did w/tim. tim taking accountability somewhat!!! loveeee to see it!!! i do

think they’ll talk in the Future and hopefully they heal together!!

genny was great this ep!! everyone not wanting to date her bc she’s tim sister

Scott & Celina: they’re cutte!! i hope they continue but im a also scared scott might be bad news

wopez: wesley being so eager abt graham & gretchen is so funny! ofc angela knew! im GLAD dRama was fixed

mileS: him & his gf having an ADULT conversation is so nice to see. im really liking miles!!! he can see he wants this

john & bailey: idc! bailey at the end was extra but i get it. her throwing the phone was dumb

also mila & claudia were cute & claudia’s dad protecting her is sweet!!

[slcmml]

charlie & reader. fluff, slightly suggestive.

★ charlie is usually fine being away for work—he’s used to traveling, used to filming for days at a time—but being away from you? suddenly, it’s the worst thing in the world.

★ the moment he gets to cali for chuckle sandwich recording, his phone is practically glued to his hand. texting you between takes, sending voice memos, calling when he has even five spare minutes.

★ you’re just as bad. even though you’re busy with your own work, you keep checking your phone, sending him messages like:

you: i miss u so much baby :(

charlie: miss u more, babe <3 i hate it here w/o u

you: don’t let schlatt bully u too much lol

charlie: too late. he said my hair looks stupid.

you: gaslight him into thinking he’s bald.

charlie: ur so smart. this is why i love u.

★ facetime calls at night where both of you are half-asleep, but neither of you want to hang up first.

★ “just stay on the phone,” charlie mumbles, voice thick with sleep. “i don’t care if you’re quiet, just wanna feel like ‘m with you.”

★ when you finally get time to call during the day, charlie’s grinning like an idiot the second your face pops up on his screen. “holy shit, you’re even prettier than i remember,” he teases, making you roll your eyes.

★ you both send each other the dumbest updates. blurry selfies, random thoughts, voice messages that are just exaggerated sighs of longing.

you: wish i could be in ur arms rn.

charlie: wish i could kiss ur dumb face.

you: wish i could hold ur hand and rub circles into ur palm like u like.

charlie: wish i could bite u. nom nom.

you: BABE.

charlie: morning, baby. how’d you sleep?

you: not great. bed feels weird without you.

charlie: mine too. i kept reaching out for you last night :(

you: we are so pathetic.

charlie: mhm. now gimme a kiss.

you: mwah.

charlie: not enough. i need like. ten.

you: mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah. <3

charlie: much better. i’ll be thinking about that all day.

charlie: wish i could burrow into ur skin and live there forever.

you: what the fuck.

charlie: don’t act like u wouldn’t let me.

you: no i absolutely would.

charlie: see? we’re the same.

charlie: i miss u so bad i might start chewing on furniture.

you: wish that was me.

charlie: chewing on furniture?

you: no, in ur mouth.

charlie: oh my god.

★ if either of you have a bad day, the other immediately drops everything to comfort them over the phone. charlie’s voice is soft, sweet, telling you how much he loves you, how proud he is of you, how he wishes he could hold you.

★ sometimes you both get really freaky over text but it’s either the most unserious conversation ever or it’s the neediest conversation ever?

charlie: [selfie]

you: oh my fucking god u are so handsome im gonna jerk it so hard tonight

charlie: oh word? u better bc im thinking abt u rn and i might just bust it down sensually in ur honor

you: i need u so bad rn :(

charlie: yeahh? what do u need baby ill do my best to please u <3

you: [selfie]

charlie: gonna go absolutely feral in the bathroom thinking abt this

you: dont threaten me w a good time

★ the moment he’s done with recording and you’re done with work, the countdown begins.

charlie: TWO MORE DAYS BABY I’M GONNA KISS U SO HARD WHEN I SEE U

you: not if i kiss u first, been waiting all week for that shit

★ when you’re finally back together? oh, you’re not leaving each other’s side for at least a week. fully attached at the hip, constantly touching, making up for every second apart.

© slcmml