#i thought of this like a month ago and just remembered it

[tinyclowndancer]

this but with feeling

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!!! AHH AHHHHHH !!!!!!! AAAAAAAHHHH !!!!!! AHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !! AAAAAHHHH AAAAAAAAAHHHHH !! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!! AHHH !! AHHHHHH !!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHH !!!!! AAAAAAH !!!!AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!! !! AHHHHH !!!!!!!!!!!!!AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!! AAAAAHHHH AAAAAAAAHHHHH AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH !!!

[jinxvex]

omg haiii :3 #1 i just found your account and i love your works! the way you write is just… mwahmwahmwah. besides that! i’d love it if u could do a jinx x reader where reader is lowkey oblivious but jinx is super obvious with how much she wants to fuck… and when she finally gets to hit she degrades and dumbifies reader… orrrr am i just thirsty 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

♱ fantasy. ♱

oh girl this is sexy trust, WE IS THIRSTY TEW!! also thank you, you’re so sweet!! i’m glad you enjoy my works :))

syp. the first time jinx set her glowy shimmer-charged eyes on you, she knew she had to have you—and she always gets what she wants. no matter that you were friends and you were oblivious to her constantly undressing you with her eyes, fighting her urges to completely ruin, defile, and destroy you. you’d come to realize soon enough.

cw: nsfw content!!, dom!jinx plotting on that p***y (lol), sub!reader (i'm a switch!jinx truther but let me cook...), a lot of degrading + dumbification, cursing, dirty talk, some praise, teasing, mocking, she forces you to take it!!, mentions of oral/fingering/gun-play, strap-on sex, hair-pulling, pet names (toots, hon, babe, baby, bunny, etc?), possessiveness, nastiness galore (lord forgive me!), reader’s past sex life is purposefully written to be vague, + prob more

wc: 4.2k!!

jinx’s fantasies involving you started a month ago when she was off roaming the rowdy streets of the undercity for a market sale. well, before it. she had begrudgingly taken up silco’s orders to keep tabs on the shipment coming in and out before the market opened to the public. for what? ‘who freakin’ knows?!’ she thought.

in retrospect, jinx was never an overly sexual person. she understood what it was, why people participated in it, and her own sexual preferences but she’d never devoted much time to finding someone to fuck or to fuck her for that matter. she's fucked before, but that was it. plunging her long, slender fingers into her own cunt while reading a racy scene in a shitty romance novel was enough to get her rocks off. she figured something was missing but she brushed it off.

her mind was… elsewhere most of the time.

(a month ago...)

lost in her thoughts, per usual, jinx doesn’t see you standing in all your beautiful glory. she walks right past you, eyes darting along everything she can see to accurately take in the information silco wants her to report back to him. she's still preoccupied with the inner workings of her mind and not too much with the zaunite public.

well, that's bound to change one way or another.

suddenly, she's stopping dead in her tracks. something's changed. the air feels charged, full of opportunity and something else. curly lines, shapes, and colorful graphics fill her vision—overwhelming but she feels as though she can really see clearly for the first time.

her nostrils catch a whiff of something… sweet. inviting. like freshly baked cookies although it's almost incomparable to how truly delectable the scent is. she's taken by surprise at the smell of something so good, good enough to eat, to devour. she’s never smelt anything or anyone so delicious. it intrigued her beyond belief, she knew that whatever it was, she was going to have that thing.

that’s when in her own self-induced frenzy she'd caused by frantically turning and thrashing around to look for where the smell led her, she sees you for the first time. as radiant as ever.

everything's in slow motion.

you're leaning up against a metal post and speaking to a market vendor, your voice as sweet as ever chatting to them about ‘who the fuck cares’. your smile is the brightest she’d ever seen living in a place full of drug addicts, violence, and poverty like you’ve never been subjected to zaun in your entire life.

she watches as you flip your hair to one side, hips swaying and fingers twiddling against your satchel. she watches you so intently, that she can see your eyes blinking slowly, she can count your individual eyelashes and remember the number for the rest of her life.

to say the least, jinx is enamored by the sight of you, let alone your smell. images of how good you'd look naked, and what your skin would feel like against hers cloud her vision, creating the perfect first impression of you in her mind. she looks further at you, specifically your ass and the jeans hugging it perfectly as well as the curve of your hips. the veins in your neck travel further down beneath your shirt and she can't help but wonder what your chest would look like.

bare.

before this moment, she'd never thought of somebody in such a vulgar light; it put her in a state of shock. she let her mind wander even farther off into jinx-landia and she imagines what it would feel like to slide her fingers into your pussy and press the pads of them onto your g-spot. she wants to know what it feels like to feel you get wetter and wetter and what it feels like to make out with your pussy—to push your own juices into your mouth and kiss you dumb. she thinks about testing how deep your cunt could get—how pretty your ass would look riding a cock, tits bouncing in the air.

controlling herself was something jinx always had problems with, so she isn't surprised when she is unable to stop herself from approaching you. her feet seem to be dragging themselves towards you like some sort of magnetic force.

“hiya, toots,” spills from her lips before she can even stop and think about what she's doing.

you pause your conversation with whomever you're speaking to, looking over in her direction to find her staring intently at you. confused and a little petrified, you stand up straighter, as you aren't expecting silco’s adoptive daughter to be staring you down at the beginning of some random ass tuesday morning.

“uhm, hey,” you respond, sounding more like a question rather than a greeting in return.

‘this is gonna be so much fun,’ jinx’s eyes light up and she lets her lips curl up in a friendly smirk, running through ways in her mind how exactly she’d ruin your body, mark you up, and claim you for herself.

because no matter what, nobody else is ever getting a piece of you now that she's sought you out.

no fuckin’ way.

…

somewhere in the present, there’s an idea—a certain narrative established between you and jinx.

you’re friends. good ones.

you don't know what else would explain the obvious liking jinx has taken to you. what else would explain the way she’s always touching you, looking after you, and asking you personal questions? questions so personal they have your eyes widening and gripping the edges of your clothes.

"have you ever, y'know, done it before? had sex?"

"what sorta stuff you into? like, sex stuff."

"you ever touch yourself? what feels the best? just trying to see if i could learn somethin' interesting for myself."

you never answer, often opting to lower your head in silence. how could you? it was wildly inappropriate and quite frankly, jinx made you shy. maybe it's because she's so pretty, and bold, and has a waist so small and touchable that you just want to-

no! 'why does she care so much?' you ask yourself frequently. no friend has ever been so crass...

duh! she gives a shit because she wants to fuck your brains out 'n then maybe cuddle you a bit! but you don't know that...

jinx follows you around too, insisting you need protecting since "you're too pretty 'n perfect" to not have protection.

one day, she started walking you to your god-awful job and never stopped. her excuse was, "can't have anyone takin' advantage of ya so early in the morning, princess. janna knows they'd try with a face 'n a body like that...whew", she whistled to herself.

needless to say, she kept your life interesting. she always seems to find you, no matter where you are. like she can sense your presence anywhere. you figure she doesn't have many people to talk to, everyone's scared of her being silco's daughter and all. but, you don't have anyone either; no parents or friends. no girlfriend.

well that makes two of you. sort of.

you both are currently smushed together on her sofa in her hideout making bracelets—snacks, craft supplies, and sleepover galore surrounding you. earlier on in the day, jinx had swung by your apartment (how she found out where you lived, you had no clue) and invited you over for a sleepover for the first time. you were surprised she was trusting you enough to let you see where she retreats at night and where she spends most of her time eating, sleeping, plotting; scheming.

she has a knack for making you feel special; like it’s just you two in the world and nothing else matters.

she makes you feel alive.

you’re shaken out of your thoughts by a grinning jinx. yes, physically shaken. both of her palms are placed on your shoulders, gripping them tight and looking into your eyes almost as a way to silently ask if you’re having as much fun as her. heat transfers from her usually cold hands to your skin which has you internally reeling. you’re wearing a tank top, comfortable enough with her to show a little something extra, “whatcha thinkin’ about, hon?”

you smile back at her, “nothing.”

you swear you see her eyes flicker down to your chest for a split second but you ignore it. her eyes move quick due to the shimmer, ‘you’re seeing shit, girl’ claims the angel on your shoulder.

“hmm, you’re lying.”

“am not!” you counter.

“are too,” she doubles back.

“whatever.” you finalize, emphasizing the ‘ever’. you’re not interested in arguing with her any further or giving her the satisfaction of proving her right.

you focus on the friendship bracelet you’re creating for her, determined to make it as pretty as you can for her. you want her to wear it—like it. love it, even. it fills you with a sick satisfaction knowing that soon you’d be wearing each other's creations, way more than it would if you just saw her as a friend. you see her pause her movements out of the corner of your eye but you keep going.

the faint sound of her own bracelet dropping to the couch cushion causes your head to rise up, looking at her in slight confusion. you’re not shocked to realize that she’s already looking at you.

“’m bored,” jinx replies blankly, pouting cutely.

“and grass is green. what else is new? you’re always bored, girl,” you playfully nudge her arm.

“well… grass has more of a grey hue down here so-“

the funny but slightly depressing joke nearly flew over your head but the knowing smirk on her face clued you in on her shenanigans.

you gasp in disbelief and nudge her arm a little harder now, fighting to stifle your laugh under your breath, “ha ha. very funny.”

“yeah, toots. i’m extremely hilarious,” she holds her head up high and crosses her arms above her chest.

she pauses, “let’s play somethin’.

she faces you fully now, right knee switching from resting next to your left to mirroring both of your knees, parallel to you. she scoots closer, and by now you know her calculating personality. you know that whatever she’s up to, has to be mischievous.

“ever hear of truth or dare?”

you roll your eyes, “of course i have!”

“then, you know the rules… right?”

“yes, jinx. i know how to play,” you rebuttal.

maybe you should’ve known her attention span wouldn’t last long while bracelet making. even if the speaker blared her favorite music at her gadget station, filling the space with a comfortable ambiance.

she smiles widely, “then let’s fuckin’ play!

“it’ll be so. much. fun,” she gets closer to your face with each word to emphasize her point, biting her lip and giving you intense eye contact. sexually charged eye contact. but again, you don't realize.

“fine. fine! but you’re going first. you're better at this sorta thing.”

she leans back to give you more space, just enough space to where it's socially acceptable to still be incredibly close to your friend. she's clapping her manicured hands together as her smile grows bigger and her shoulders tense with excitement.

"truth or dare?!" she asks in a televised over-dramatic fashion.

"truth."

'too easy' she thought. although, 'this is good,' her thoughts linger further. she figures she should start you off easy.

jinx has now stopped her clapping to put a finger on her chin in a thinking motion, obviously pretending to conjure up an interesting question that she's probably already picked out in her head.

"hmm...have you ever had a boyfriend?" she asks confidently, putting emphasis on the 'boy' part of "boyfriend" in a mocking manner; like how a sibling or family member would tease you about a crush.

your eyes widen, already caught off-guard by her first question.

"uhm... no. i-i don't really like boys like that."

she licks her lower lip and smiles once again, unbeknownst to you because you've just confirmed that she actually has a chance to win you over. although, she had her suspicions when she first met you.

"ever had a girlfriend?" she questions further, a serious, eerie edge to her voice appearing at the thought of you ever even romantically touching another girl. hell, in any way, shape, or form.

blinking rapidly, you shut her down quickly, "what, no! never really got the… chance to."

initially, you were going to tease her by mentioning that she was only allowed to ask one question but, you couldn't help but shake the feeling that she wasn't going down without an answer from you.

"awesome, good to know! your turn."

"okay. truth or da-"

"dare," she cuts you off delightedly.

you file through your mind to give her something entertaining to do but you find absolutely nothing, your mind blank like always the very moment you get around her. jinx makes you feel like you don't have to live your life thinking so hard. it's peaceful.

"damn, you are bad at this game," she snorts.

"hey, i can't help it. you've gotta help me here."

she raises a brow, "i mean, you could ask me t'do basically anything. y'know i'd do it," she slowly cocks her head to the side, still gazing deep into your irises. her braids follow the movement of her head.

"make it nasty."

"what the hell am i supposed to do? tell you to take off your clothes?!"

she doesn't waver, "yeah. yeah, that's a good one. do it."

you gulp, throat now dryer than ever and your fingers hurt from tightly grasping the fabric of your sleep shorts, 'here goes nothing.'

"u-uh... i dare you to t-take off your shirt," you order weakly.

jinx doesn't even let you finish your sentence before she's crossing her arms in front of her to tug the tiny, thin tank top off of her body, you follow her hands and you watch her chuck it on the floor carelessly. you look back up at her only to realize that,

she isn’t fucking wearing a bra.

you gasp in shock and secret arousal, eyes darting to the spot below you as you avoid looking at her soft, perky chest any longer, not wanting to over-step or make her uncomfortable.

"hey, you're startin' to hurt my feelings, babe. gave you that idea for a reason. makes shit more... interesting."

you look up to meet her eyes and for the nth time, you see her staring right back at you, gaze charged with something more than usual. you may have been oblivious, but you weren't dumb, something was definitely going on here. something that friends shouldn't do alone.

but you can't stop. it's turning you on.

the game continues on for many rounds after that, you and jinx switching back and forth from truth and dare, learning more and more about each other as time passes by. you start to get the hang of her outlandish questions, answering them shyly but not as reluctant as before. something you'd never get used to was the hypnotizing way her tits bounced with each slight movement, entrancing you. you learn that she's had sex once before and that she likes rope play and getting her hair pulled.

she also mentions other personal traits of hers that make your head spin, "y'know when i get wet, i get reeeally wet. like water wet."

needless to say, you know more than you should. she seemed to not mind telling you these things either, almost excited to clue you in.

"truth or dare, baby?"

"truth," you choose once more, the pet name affecting your better judgment and the seductive tinge to her voice causing the wetness already present in your underwear to leak through to your shorts.

jinx doesn't attempt to pretend to think of a question, "tell me, toots. what turns you on? what gets ya goin'?"

"what do you mean? like some sort of a kink?"

"yeah, like a kink."

embarrassment falls over your face like a dam breaking. you have to lie. this was getting too up close and personal for your own good and the only thing that could save what's left of your dignity is a lie.

"i-i don't know..."

so much for a lie.

her unhappiness with your answer is expressed when you see her narrowing her eyes at you. she leans in close, nose brushing yours and you can feel her warm breath on your face, "i know you're lying," she says real sing-songy-like. she's teasing you, and enjoying it.

her slender finger points in your face, “no fair! showed you my tits, toots! play by the rules."

"okay! okay! god, this is so fucking embarrassing-"

"c'mon..," she urges you on, eager to learn more about your sexual side and what takes you cream. she desired to know what made your pussy wet before she stuffed you full. but again, you don't know that.

"i-um. i read something onc-,”

she cuts you off once again, “don’t got all day!”

you sigh, “okay! i like getting called names. mean ones,” you blurt out quickly—sick of her antics.

“and i think i like it…rougher?”

her seemingly continuous stare falters for a split second before a bubbly laugh escapes her throat, smiling bigger and better than she has all day.

“oh, yeah? you like it… rough? you like getting treated like you’re nothin’?” she laughs out incredulously and somehow she’s gotten closer to you, lips almost close enough to graze yours.

“jinx… i- what are you-“

“what if we… played somethin’ else? somethin’ a little more worth our while.”

she figures, ‘ay, i’ve waited long enough…i need her'.

“like what?” you inquire even though you're no longer oblivious, catching on to what she means by “somethin’ else.” you feign innocence.

you feel a calculating hand travel up your leg, they’re slightly sweaty and cold which makes a shiver crawl down your spine. your chest visibly quickens, eyebrows furrowing, and eyes glossy with desire. jinx, still maintaining eye contact with you, remains calm although internally jumping for joy as she's finally got you where she wanted you the moment she laid eyes on you.

"how wet are ya right now, toots? you look like you're 'bout to cream your fuckin' pants!"

you audibly gasp, and she continues,

"i bet you're just drippin' down there... this whole time i've been sittin' here thinkin' you're being tortured answering all my questions, but, the entire time you've been gettin' off to it, haven't ya?!"

a single tear gathers in your eye out of complete and utter embarrassment. despite that, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't fucking love it.

her hand stops at the edge of your top, fiddling softly with it, "you can tell me to stop, baby! but, i have a feeling you don't want that," she whispers against your lips. you feel her tug the bottom of your tank top tighter, balling it in her clammy fist.

"dont! d-dont stop."

and just like that, a switch flips in her head. she's grabbing the back of your neck and smushing her lips against yours, capturing them in a searing kiss that has your lips aching. as soon as you feel her tongue attempt to break into your mouth, you let her in.

you initially jump in surprise but quickly sink into the kiss once you get used to the overwhelming contrast between her cold hands clutching your waist and her warm lips pressed on your lips. soon, she's basically drooling into your mouth, tongue trailing over every detail of the inside of your mouth as if she's trying to memorize the space. it's disgusting, really. but, it makes your cunt sloppy.

jinx breaks the kiss to pull your top over your head. she throws it on top of hers. the same one she abandoned long ago at the start of the game. it creates a small heap on the floor of her cozy abode.

"fuckin' whore," she laughs.

you moan, biting your lip softly as a seductive tactic to keep her kissing you.

"wooow!!" she drags out humorously, pressing her hand against your throat and tightening slowly with each word that comes out of her mouth, "you really are a slut. you like when i'm mean, slut?"

you nod, words seemingly impossible to form at this point.

she tightens her hold on you, bringing your neck closer so her mouth resides next to your ear, "if you don't speak up, i'm gonna make it hurt. 's gonna hurt so bad, bunny. gonna torture you. ‘n i know it’s our first time and all! don’t wanna have to scare ya just yet!"

unable to stop rambling, she continues, "hmm... maybe i'll shove the biggest fucking cock i have into your tight cunt... no prep! betcha you'd take it so well. hell, you'd probably like it! you're nasty like that."

"maybe i'll stuff my gun in there...with the bullets inside."

"please, jinx. fuck me.”

she just smiles, “i thought you’d never ask.”

…

you swear you see your life flash before your eyes because of how hard jinx is pounding your poor, abused cunt into the couch cushion. she has you face down—ass up with your hands held together behind your back by her own hands. your face rests on the couch arm, halfway visible to her so she can marvel at your eyes rolling to the back of your head and crossing achingly.

her own eyes roll at the sight of you in such a lewd state, “fuck, toots! you’re takin’ this cock so good. suckin’ me in your pussy like a good little cockslut. mmph. jus' swallowing it whole, fuck!!"

her pace is fast but calculated; and planned. as always. she’s roughly rolling her hips into yours to produce the addictive whore-ish moans to spill from your mouth. she’s also focused on watching her cock disappear in you, your cunt swallowing her cock like it was supposed to be there. the open space is filled with creamy cunt sounds and skin-slapping noises.

“holy fuckin’ shit, hear that? ya hear that pussy creaming ‘round my dick? she’s talkin’ to me, baby!”

you speak, remembering her resentment towards you not responding to her, “y-yes! i-i do, jinxie.”

“yeah?! you think she’s tryin’ to tell me how much she loves me? how much she loves when i split her open on my dick?” she reaches below your stomach to slap at your clit right where the balls on the faux cock meet your skin and you shudder in pleasure.

“fucking love your dick, ‘s so good, s-shit!”

it’s like her mouth won’t stop. she’s relentless—bullying you with her words as well as her cock. jinx pulls you up by your hair so your upper body mirrors hers. she slows her pace to thrust deeper and harder in you, damn near knocking the wind out of you. that causes to you choke on your breath, and your mouth is open as far as it can go.

“h-hah! aww… ‘s just sooo good, isn’t it?"

"see what happens when you’re good for me? good lil’ whores get good dick, ‘n i love givin’ it to ya, hon.”

you’re uncontrollably moaning, voice echoing loudly as you beg her for more—to wreck you.

“more! m-more please!”

“more?!“ she removes her hand from your head to dig her nails into your hips so she can get deeper, so she can open you up.

“you. want. fuckin’. more?!” she slams into your pussy with each word.

your pussy is drooling with your arousal and the shared sweat between you and jinx. you can feel it squelching down your legs with every thrust and throaty laugh she lets out at your pathetic form.

“god, you should see yourself. such’a perfect slut.”

with every word you feel your pussy quiver, getting closer and closer to cumming around her cock. when you curl your toes and inch off of her to prevent yourself from orgasming a whopping 3 minutes in she’s not having it, quickening her pace but keeping her almost-painful thrusts deep.

“nope! gonna take it all. ya asked for it, toots! you begged me to stick my dick in you. so take all of it.”

“b-but ‘m gonna cum! don't wanna yet! oh my god, p-please!!” you beg her for the slightest bit of mercy.

uncaring, she leans down next to the side of your head, lowering her voice, “you’re gonna fuckin’ cum, ‘n you’re gonna cum telling me whose pussy this is. who’s is it, babe?”

“who’s feedin’ this cunt good dick?!”

“you, you! only you.”

“yeah, ‘s me. cum, toots. soak me—get me wet.”

and that was it, “fuck! ‘m cumming!”

you release a soul-crushing moan and triggered by your sudden high, you grip the edges of the couch arm and fuck your ass back on her to deepen her thrusts if that’s even possible. wetness squirts from your cunt and everywhere around you, soaking the entire space below you including jinx’s lower half. the last thing you remember before you pass the fuck out is the hazy, content look on her face and incoherent mumbles that probably consisted of,

“that was way better than a fuckin’ fantasy.”

…

PLEASE TAKE THIS FOOD WHILE I WORK ON MY SEV REQS!!🙏🏽🫣...

[meadowfics]

I apologize if you're not taking requests at this time. I just have to get it down before I forget lol.

What if Kang Dae-Ho and reader meet during the games and somehow survive and get married and have a kid who one day comes home from school wanting to play these children games they learned from their classmates/teachers (the games they played) and maybe it brings up the bad memories. Like kinda angsty but with a comforting ending something.

childhood dreams, adult nightmares

kang dae-ho x wife!mother!reader

seo-ah does not understand the effect of a childhood game on you

I am adding this to my, "kang family" series since this is such a good concept! thank you for requesting <3

warning: PTSD mentions, yes dae-ho and y/n were in the games in this AU before seo-ah and byeol came along :(

there is a link to see seo-ah's little cute sneakers to make your day <3

four years ago, you never thought you would live to see this life.

the quiet suburban home in the countryside in korea.

the warm smell of baby lotion and freshly brewed tea lingering in the air. the sound of your three-year-old daughter, seo-ah, giggling as she kicks off her tiny pink strawberry sneakers by the door.

the little girl's excitement was bubbling over after a long day at daycare.

you never thought you would survive at all to see this life,

or any life outside of comfort,

or any life outside of poverty,

yet here you are.

your hands tighten slightly on the baby carrier strapped to your chest, where byeol is sleeping peacefully, her tiny face nestled against your sternum, breaths warm and steady.

byeol's weight is small but grounding, a reminder that she is real. that this life is real, and you did survive the worst.

you and dae-ho had spent the day running errands, taking turns carrying byeol, rocking her, feeding her, going through the motions of parenthood with the quiet ease of two people who had built a home out of the wreckage of their past.

when you talked to dae-ho's oldest sister, and your sister-in-law, hana, a few months back, she suggested that seo-ah is at an age where she needs more social interaction with kids her own age.

so, dae-ho and you put seo-ah in morning daycare so she can play, start her learning, and make some new mini friends.

today had been a good day.

until seo-ah says something that freezes you in place.

"eomma, we played a new game today at recess!"

seo-ah announces, pulling her backpack off and tossing it onto the floor. the girl's cheeks are flushed with excitement as she bounces on her toes.

you smile, adjusting the strap of the baby carrier, watching as she pulls out a small piece of construction paper with crayon scribbles all over it.

"oh yeah? what game, baby?"

she grins, bright and carefree, completely unaware of the way your world is about to tilt on its axis.

"I think it was called... hm? wait! red light, green light! it was red light, green light!"

your breath catches in your throat.

your hands go still.

your entire body stiffens, as if your muscles are locking up, as if your nervous system is throwing every alarm at once, a tidal wave of ice-cold fear crashing down on you.

red light. green light.

breathe.

breathe.

you can't.

your ears ring.

your vision blurs at the edges.

your heartbeat thunders in your chest, loud and panicked, drowning out the warmth of the home around you.

"eomma?"

seo-ah tilts her head, blinking up at you with wide, innocent eyes.

she doesn't know.

seo-ah doesn't know.

act normal, y/n.

you force a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"o-oh, yeah? who taught you that game?"

your voice feels distant, wrong, like it doesn’t belong to you.

"seonsaengnim said it’s really fun! we played it outside, and i won once!"

she beams, clearly proud of herself.

your stomach churns. nausea twists inside you like a knot pulled too tight.

images flash behind your eyes, unwelcome and cruel.

you remember when you won once, too.

except, you would have died if you didn't.

the sun beating down on your skin. the crack of gunfire. bodies collapsing around you, limp and lifeless. the screams. the silence.

stop. stop. stop.

"eomma?"

you snap back to the present, your nails digging into your palms as you force yourself to focus on your daughter.

on her soft voice, her curious eyes she got from you, the way she’s still waiting for your response.

before you can say anything, dae-ho’s voice calls out from down the hall.

"seo-ah, baby, use your inside voice! your sister's sleeping."

your head turns instinctively.

dae-ho is in byeol’s nursery, gently rocking her bassinet as he hums under his breath, soothing her. t

he sight of him...tall, strong, always steady...should bring you comfort.

right now, you don’t want him to see you like this.

you don’t want to trigger him, too.

"w-why don’t you go wash your hands before dinner, hm?"

you tell seo-ah, ruffling her hair.

she pouts but obeys, skipping off toward the bathroom, humming a song to herself.

as soon as she’s gone, you let out a shaky breath and press a hand to your chest, as if that will somehow slow the frantic beating of your heart.

you close your eyes. try to shake it off. try to remind yourself that this is not then.

this is not the games.

however, your body doesn’t understand the difference.

its been a while since you remembered those games. your brain tries to block that memory all of the time.

today, the memories were clear as day.

your legs feel weak as you make your way to the bedroom, setting the empty baby carrier down carefully before you sit on the edge of the bed.

your hands are still trembling, your lungs still tight.

you need to pull yourself together. you can’t let dae-ho see you like this.

you can’t—

“baby?”

your husband's voice is soft, but it startles you anyway.

you snap your head up, meeting his gaze.

dae-ho is standing in the doorway, brows furrowed slightly, his expression unreadable.

your stomach twists.

he noticed.

of course he did.

you try to muster a small smile.

“hey.”

he studies you for a long moment before stepping forward.

“what’s wrong?”

don’t tell him.

don’t tell him.

you don’t want to see that look in his eyes.

the same look he had the night you both finally got out, the night you collapsed in his arms, covered in blood that wasn’t your own, shaking so violently he had to hold you together.

the night before that when the rebellion happened. when you had to comfort a shaking dae-ho since the gunshots reminded him of his time in the marines.

he had worser PTSD symptoms than you did, if you had to compare.

however, dae-ho is patient.

he crouches in front of you, resting a warm hand on your knee.

"talk to me, baby."

you let out a slow breath, your throat tight.

“seo-ah told me that she--um--played… red light, green light today at daycare.”

he stills.

"it reminded me of.."

for a long moment, neither of you say anything.

dae-ho's fingers flex against your knee, his jaw tightens, his own breathing uneven. the ex-marine's eyes darken in a way that makes your stomach drop.

"oh."

you nod.

"yeah."

a heavy silence falls between you, thick with memories neither of you want to relive.

“i didn’t want to tell you,”

you admit quietly.

“i didn’t want to make you—”

“it’s okay,”

he cuts in gently.

“you can tell me anything.”

you can see it.

the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curl into fists before he slowly unclenches them.

he’s not okay either. but he’s trying.

just like you.

he takes a deep breath, then reaches for your hands, lacing his fingers through yours.

“she’s safe,”

he says, and you can’t tell if he’s reminding you or himself.

“she’s here. alive. she’s okay.”

you nod, squeezing his hands.

"i know. i just—" you swallow hard.

"it still gets to me."

"i know, sweetheart."

his voice is so soft it almost breaks you.

he moves to sit beside you, pulling you into his arms. the warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, is the only thing keeping you from spiraling again.

"breathe with me,"

he murmurs against your hair.

so you do.

inhale.

his chest rises with yours.

exhale.

dae-ho's arms tighten around you.

the two of you sit like that for a long time, breathing together, grounding each other.

you don’t know how much time passes before you finally whisper,

“do you think it’ll ever go away?”

he doesn’t answer right away. then, he sighs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"maybe not completely but we have each other, right?"

you close your eyes, nodding.

"yeah."

"and seo-ah. and byeol."

his voice is steadier now.

"we survived, baby. we made it. no one is taking anything from us ever again."

dae-ho's words settle into your bones, solid and warm, and you believe him.

you press your face against his chest, soaking in the quiet comfort of him.

the past will always be there, unfortunately, waiting for moments like this to creep in.

you are here alive with dae-ho. together.

alive.

kang family masterlist here

[megumismyhusband]

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

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

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

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

you blink. “huh?”

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

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

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

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

“yeah, obviously, but—”

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

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

it’s so much. it’s so rin.

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

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

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

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

[thedemoninme141]

Lost Valentine's.

Pairing: Wednesday X Female Reader.

Theme: Angst, Heavy Angst! Wordcount: 8.3k-ish.

Warnings: A bit of confusion? But please read it to the end!

Summary: Can Roses bleed? Wednesday can't remember. Maybe that's why she followed your ridiculous valentine's traditions.

It had been months since you had crept into her life, since you had settled into the spaces between her ribs and refused to leave. Months since she found herself caught in something she never anticipated—never wanted.

Affection. 

The word itself left a bitter taste in her mouth, as if it were something toxic.

She was Wednesday Addams. She did not entertain foolish emotions, she did not indulge in sentimentality. She was meant for darkness, for solitude, for the macabre. And yet, against all reason, against every instinct she had spent years honing, she had found herself ensnared by you.

It had started subtly at first, so subtly she hadn’t even noticed it happening. The way she allowed you to linger at her side when she would have long since dismissed anyone else. The way her sharp retorts softened, just slightly, when they were directed at you. The way she resisted—desperately, vehemently—the urge to let the corner of her mouth twitch upwards whenever you spoke to her.

You had ruined her.

And you didn’t even know it.

She exhaled slowly, pressing down the erratic thrum of her heart, suppressing the way your face kept invading her thoughts, the way her mind kept tracing over every moment spent with you.

You had insisted on celebrating something called "Rose Day," a concept so nauseatingly sentimental that Wednesday had nearly scoffed outright when you first brought it up.

Flowers. Love. The revolting ideals of romance wrapped up in a neat, florally scented package.

Wednesday detested roses.

She detested all flowers, unless they were poisonous, deadly, wilted to ruin.

And again,

She hadn’t been able to refuse you.

Against all odds, all logic, all reason, she had said yes.

Ugh.

You wanted to spend the evening in the greenhouse, of all places. Where the air was thick with the scent of earth and blooming things, where petals unfurled and thrived, where you had planted an entire batch of flowers with your own hands, simply because you liked the idea of growing something.

It was one of the things Wednesday—loathe as she was to admit—admired about you.

Your hands were made for creating, not destroying. You nurtured life where she sought to end it.

It was infuriating. It was endearing. Stupid heart.

Her fingers tapped against the desk, her expression tightening.

Was she supposed to bring you something? The thought had only just occurred to her. The whole purpose of this absurd holiday was to exchange roses, was it not?

The idea was ridiculous. You wouldn’t like that. You hated killing flowers.

Wednesday still remembered the way you had frowned when she absentmindedly stepped on a daisy weeks ago, your lips pressing into a thin line before you gently picked it up, cradling it like something fragile, something sacred.

She had been fascinated by you then.

She was still fascinated now.

A deep sigh slipped through her lips as she straightened, smoothing out the fabric of her uniform, willing away the disquieting warmth in her chest.

This was insufferable.

She needed to get out of here before she allowed her thoughts to spiral any further.

“Where are you going?”

The sudden voice shattered her thoughts like glass, and Wednesday turned, her dark gaze settling on Enid, who stood beside her bed, arms folded across her chest.

The werewolf’s usual vibrance was absent, her features drawn tight, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Strange.

Enid was always prying. Always teasing.

“I am meeting Y/n,” she answered evenly. “She insisted on spending the evening in the greenhouse.”

A pause.

“Oh.”

That was all Enid said. No teasing remark. No suggestive smirk. Just… that.

Wednesday frowned.

Something wasn’t right.

Enid was acting strangely, but Wednesday had little patience to unravel the reasoning behind it.

She glanced towards the door, then back to her roommate, waiting for whatever usual nonsense was sure to follow.

It never came.

“Umm,” Enid hesitated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “When will you be back?”

“I am not sure.”

Another pause. Another unreadable look.

Then, just as quickly, Enid nodded and turned away, fingers tightening around the hem of her sweater.

Wednesday didn’t question it. Didn’t linger. She had somewhere to be.

With one final glance at her roommate, Wednesday strode towards the door, pushing aside whatever strange feeling settled at the back of her mind.

She had more important things to focus on.

Like the fact that you were waiting for her.

And that, for some unfathomable reason, she actually wanted to see you.

How revolting.

She found you lying in the grass, arms stretched out, gaze turned upwards at—what, exactly? The ceiling? The world beyond it? The way the light refracted through the glass?

It didn’t matter.

Wednesday stopped in her tracks, the air catching in her throat, something unfamiliar curling inside her ribcage as she took you in.

You looked completely at peace, as if the very weight of the world had melted away, as if the walls of Nevermore had dissolved and left only this moment, only this space, only the soft, lush grass beneath you and the warmth of the lamps above.

There was something infuriatingly fascinating about the way you existed.

So gentle. So utterly alive.

And yet, somehow, you had chosen her.

Wednesday stood motionless, watching you, letting her dark gaze trace over every little detail—your slow, steady breathing, the way your fingers absentmindedly curled through the blades of grass, the way your lips parted just slightly as if lost in thought.

She hated this.

She hated the way her chest ached when she looked at you.

Hated the way you made her feel as if something inside her was slipping through her fingers, something she had never asked for, never wanted.

But she hated even more the idea of leaving.

So she moved forward.

Your head tilted slightly at the sound of her boots against the stone path, your lips curving upwards before you had even turned to look at her, as if you had known she was there before she had spoken a single word.

And then you sat up, eyes warm, expression bright—

And then the cursed thing,

Your smile.

The one thing Wednesday still hadn’t quite learned how to endure.

She felt it then—the ridiculous, unbearable urge to smile back.

She resisted.

Barely.

"You're here." The words were soft, threaded with something Wednesday couldn’t quite place, something she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

"Of course I am," she replied simply, "I found you, didn't I?" her voice as even as ever, as if her pulse hadn’t just tripped over itself.

Your lips twitched, amusement flickering in your gaze.

"That you did."

A quiet sigh left her lips as she moved toward you, but she didn’t deny it.

"I planted a new batch of roses," you murmured after a moment, eyes flickering toward the far side of the greenhouse.

Wednesday followed your gaze.

Rows of fresh roses stood among the other plants, petals still delicate, still growing, their leaves dark against the rich soil.

Roses.

She almost scoffed.

But then you turned to look at her, and the words dissolved before they could reach her tongue.

"I just… I like watching things grow," you said, voice soft, quiet, as if this was something sacred, something not often spoken aloud. "Helping things live."

Wednesday studied you, the way your fingers toyed with the hem of your sleeve, the way your eyes held something distant, something wistful.

She didn’t understand.

And yet, at the same time, she did.

You stood then, waiting only a second before moving toward the roses, glancing back expectantly when she didn’t immediately follow.

She let out a sigh and followed.

The roses were different from the others.

They stood side by side, carefully planted, one deep black and the other a striking red, their petals unfurling as if reaching for one another.

You crouched down beside them, fingers grazing over their stems without touching, careful, reverent.

"I planted these as a symbol," you murmured, your voice just above a whisper. "Of you and me."

Wednesday stiffened.

"As long as we’re together," you continued, brushing a strand of hair from your face, "these roses will be too."

Something inside her twisted. Tightened.

Wednesday Addams did not entertain sentimentality.

She did not allow herself to be softened by such things.

And yet, she found herself staring at the roses, at the way the black and red bled into one another, and she felt it— That slow, quiet ache beneath her ribs.

You reached for something beside the flowers, lifting it with both hands before turning to face her, expression sheepish.

A watering can.

"You’re probably going to hate this," you admitted, the faintest trace of a smile pulling at your lips. "But I want us to take care of them together."

Wednesday stared at you.

Then at the watering can.

Then back at you.

This was absurd. Truly, completely absurd.

And yet, against all reason, against every fiber of her being, she found herself reaching forward, hesitantly, carefully, taking the handle from your grasp.

Your fingers brushed hers in the exchange.

Her breath caught, almost imperceptibly.

This was ridiculous. And yet, she tilted the can forward, the water slipping past the spout, soaking into the dark earth.

And then—

You giggled.

Soft, warm, unguarded.

A sound she had heard before.

A sound that had never made her feel like this.

Wednesday clenched her jaw, tightening her grip around the handle, as if that might somehow steady her.

Perhaps…

Perhaps her distaste for flowers wasn’t entirely justified.

Lunch at Nevermore was always an assault on Wednesday’s senses. The noise, the clatter of trays against tables, the constant hum of voices overlapping, filling every available space. It grated on her nerves, but she tolerated it. Barely.

To her right, you were curled slightly inward, sitting at the very edge of the table, as you always did.

Across from her, Enid was chattering away, her voice bright and full of energy as she animatedly waved her hands, trying to explain something to Yoko and Bianca.

"And I swear, I almost got it! But then the stupid equation was like, ‘nah, girl, you thought,’ and now my grade is in literal shambles," Enid groaned, dragging a hand through her hair. "I swear, my math teacher has it out for me," she groaned, dramatically slumping forward. "Like, I am genuinely incapable of understanding calculus, and instead of helping, she just stares at me like I’m an insult to the entire concept of numbers."

Yoko snorted, shaking her head. "Maybe you are."

Bianca smirked. "Yeah, Enid, you’re a lost cause. I’d be concerned if I were your teacher too."

Enid gasped, shaking her head at them. "Wow, thanks for the moral support, guys."

Wednesday barely paid attention to them. Their conversations were predictable, nothing that required her participation.

But then— "I can help you with math if you want," your words were quiet, soft, hesitant, careful in the way you said it, as if you already expected to be ignored.

And you were.

The conversation continued as if you had said nothing at all.

Enid was still laughing, Yoko and Bianca still smirking.

Not a single one of them acknowledged your words.

Wednesday felt something cold coil inside her.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

But she watched.

She watched as your gaze flickered downward, watched as your fingers curled just a little tighter against the wood, watched as the faintest trace of sadness passed over your face before you carefully schooled your expression back into something neutral.

You didn’t say anything else.

Something cold and sharp coiled inside Wednesday’s chest.

“She said something.” Her voice cut through the conversation like a blade, sharp and deliberate.

The table stilled.

Enid blinked at her. “Huh?”

Wednesday’s jaw was tight, teeth pressed together as she repeated herself, slower this time. “Y/N offered to help you with your math problem.” She shifted her gaze, dark and unyielding, to all three of them. “And you blatantly ignored her.”

Yoko, Bianca, and Enid exchanged glances, an awkward silence settling over them.

Finally, Enid laughed, but it was different this time—forced, unsure. "Oh, um, yeah, sure, Y/N, I’m, uh…" She trailed off, searching for something to say.

Bianca cut in smoothly. "Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I’m actually tutoring Enid, so she’s covered." She offered a practiced smile, tilting her head. "Sorry for not noticing what you said. You know how loud Enid can be."

Lies.

Wednesday saw through them instantly, saw the way Bianca avoided direct eye contact, the way Yoko shifted uncomfortably, the way Enid fidgeted with the sleeve of her jacket.

You smiled, small and tired, nodding as if you believed them. “Right. No worries.”

Then you stood, grabbing your tray, and left without another word.

Wednesday’s glare darkened as she shot one last look at them before pushing her own chair back and following you.

The hallway was quieter, the echoes of distant chatter fading into the background as 

Wednesday caught up to you.

You didn’t turn to her, your footsteps steady, your gaze fixed ahead.

"You shouldn’t have done that," you murmured after a moment.

"Shouldn’t have done what?"

"Called them out like that."

Wednesday scoffed. "They deserved it."

A bitter chuckle left your lips, but there was no humor in it. "They hate me," you said, voice quiet, but steady.

Wednesday frowned.

"They don’t even acknowledge me most of the time," you continued, finally stopping, finally turning to look at her. "You saw it, Wednesday. You always see it. They act like I don’t exist."

She stared at you, taking in the way your jaw tensed, the way your hands clenched at your sides.

It was infuriating.

And for the first time, Wednesday didn’t know if her anger was directed at them—

Or at herself.

"They don’t hate you," she said, measured, careful.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Then what do you call it?"

"They’re self-centered," Wednesday said simply. "Thoughtless. Ignorant. But they do not hate you."

"Does it matter?"

Wednesday felt something stir inside her, something she didn’t have a name for.

Because it did matter.

It mattered far more than it should have.

She exhaled through her nose, shifting her weight slightly.

"I do not care for most people," she admitted. "They are fickle. Inconsistent. Disappointing."

You tilted your head slightly, listening.

"I am not like them," she continued, voice quieter now, more deliberate. "I do not say things I do not mean. I do not offer what I do not intend to give."

Your brows furrowed slightly.

"Wednesday—"

"You matter."

The words were out before she could stop them. And she didn’t want to stop them. Your lips parted, eyes widening just slightly.

"I have spent much of my life detesting the very concept of… attachment," Wednesday said, her voice unwavering despite the tightness in her chest. "It is unpredictable. Irrational. A weakness."

You swallowed, fingers twitching at your sides.

"But then you—" she stopped, the faintest trace of something raw, something unguarded.

The silence stretched, heavy, thick with everything unsaid. And then Wednesday exhaled, slow, deliberate.

"Be mine." she said.

Your brows furrowed slightly.

"What?"

Wednesday exhaled again, as if the words themselves had pained her.

"I lo—"

She stopped.

Her throat tightened.

She exhaled again, slower this time.

"I have… an undeniable preference for you," she tried.

You blinked.

Then let out a quiet, breathless laugh.

"Wednesday Addams, are you trying to say you love me?"

Wednesday’s face didn’t change. But her hands twitched at her sides.

She did not look away. Did not falter.

"I’m saying that you are mine," she corrected, her voice quiet but firm.

Your breath hitched.

Then, slowly, carefully, you stepped forward, closing the space between you.

"That was a very Addams way of saying it," you murmured.

Wednesday didn’t reply.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Then—

You reached forward, hesitantly, carefully, fingers brushing against hers.

She didn’t pull away.

"You’re mine too, then," you whispered.

And Wednesday—

She didn’t resist the small, fleeting twitch at the corner of her lips.

Enid was at her own desk, digging through her drawers, occasionally glancing at the mirror, adjusting her hair as she pulled on a jacket. She was getting ready to go somewhere.

Wednesday watched her for a moment.

"Where are you going?"

Enid stiffened.

It was subtle, but Wednesday noticed it immediately.

A small, fleeting tension in her shoulders before she turned around, smiling a little too quickly.

"Oh! Um—nowhere important. Just heading out with some people."

Wednesday narrowed her eyes slightly.

"Where."

Enid hesitated, then sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

"The Weathervane theme park," she admitted, avoiding Wednesday’s gaze.

Wednesday tilted her head slightly.

"With whom?"

Enid chewed on her lip.

"Uh, just—Ajax, Bianca, Yoko, Eugene and some others."

Wednesday frowned.

That was… odd.

Normally, any sort of group outing like this would come with an excruciatingly long, overly enthusiastic attempt from Enid to convince her to join.

There would be pleading, bargaining, annoyingly bright smiles and hopeful eyes.

There would be insistence, over and over, until Wednesday either shut it down completely or relented just to make it stop.

Yet this time, there had been nothing.

No mention of it.

No attempts to persuade her.

And for some reason, that bothered her.

"Why didn’t you ask me to come?"

Enid blinked. The question seemed to catch her off guard, her mouth opening and closing for a moment before she laughed awkwardly.

"Uh, well, I mean—" She shifted slightly. "I just figured you’d say no anyway, so I didn’t bother."

Lie.

It wasn’t an outright lie, but there was something wrong with it, something forced in the way she said it, something in the way she wouldn’t quite meet Wednesday’s gaze.

And Wednesday—

She could push it. Could demand the truth.

But she didn’t need to.

Because whatever the reason was, it didn’t matter.

This wasn’t about Enid.

This wasn’t about her.

It was about you.

Ever since yesterday’s lunch, Wednesday had been analyzing everything, dissecting every detail of how people treated you, how they disregarded you, how they seemed so utterly indifferent to your existence despite you being right there.

It made no logical sense.

Wednesday didn’t like that. She wants you to be close to other people too, to have other friends too.

And so, before she could think too much about it, she spoke again.

"I want to join," she said, her voice steady.

Enid blinked again, startled.

Wednesday’s expression didn’t waver.

"Me and Y/N," she clarified.

For a brief moment, Enid just stared at her. Then, slowly, she smiled, though there was something awkward about it, something hesitant.

"Yeah, sure," she said, "It’ll be fun." nodding a little too quickly though her voice carried the same awkward note as before.

Wednesday studied her.

There was hesitation in her movements, tension in her shoulders.

She was hiding something.

Wednesday straightened, her dark eyes unwavering.

"Is there something I don’t know?" she asked.

Enid stiffened. "What?"

"Between Y/N and the others, did anything happen that I do not know of?" Wednesday pressed, voice carefully measured.

Something flickered across Enid’s face. Her eyes widened, too much, too quick.

"No!"

Wednesday’s stare was cold, unrelenting.

Enid fumbled, forcing a laugh.

"I mean—no, of course not! Y/N’s great! Fun! Amazing, really!" she babbled, her voice too high, too rushed. "She is my best friend, I love her! You know me, I’m just silly, ha-ha!"

Wednesday’s lips pressed into a thin line. She did not believe her.

But she also knew Enid would not willingly say more.

Not yet.

Enid cleared her throat. "Listen, we’re leaving in an hour," she said, shifting the conversation as quickly as she could. "You can get Y/N and meet us outside the school, okay?"

Wednesday gave a single nod. "Very well."

Enid hesitated for half a second longer, then turned back to her mirror, fixing her hair again, though there was something off in the way she was moving, something stiff.

But Wednesday didn’t linger on it.

She turned, grabbing her coat from the hook by the door.

She had something more important to do.

She had to find you.

She wasn’t walking away from something.

She was walking toward it.

Wednesday stole a glance at you.

You looked… happy.

Genuinely happy.

And it was because of a lie.

Wednesday had never been one for dishonesty—she found it tedious, unnecessary.

But when she had seen the way your expression lit up upon hearing that Enid had specifically asked her to bring you along, the lie felt... worth it. And she hated that she didn’t regret it.

You walked a little closer, your fingers brushing hers—not enough to hold, but enough to be felt. “I’m gonna get you something,” you said suddenly.

Wednesday arched a brow. “How unfortunate.”

You laughed. She pretended not to like the sound.

“It’s Chocolate Day,” you continued, nudging her lightly. “And you know what that means.”

Wednesday sighed. “It means I’m about to be forced into yet another pointless tradition.”

You hummed, tilting your head in thought. “I was thinking of getting you dark chocolate.”

Wednesday paused. Her gaze flickered to you, analyzing. She had never told you that dark chocolate was the only exception to her disdain for sweets. She had never mentioned it, never given any indication of preference. And yet—You had known.

“Fine,” she relented. “But if it’s disgusting, I reserve the right to throw it away in front of you.”

You giggled, looping your arm through hers before she could protest. “I’ll take my chances.”

Wednesday looked away. She was losing this battle.

And she did not know whether she wanted to win it at all.

The theme park was exactly as Wednesday had predicted.

Loud. Chaotic. A breeding ground for idiocy.

Yet, with you beside her, something about it didn’t seem quite as unbearable.

Enid was unusually insistent throughout the night, always rushing ahead, always the first to purchase the tickets before Wednesday could so much as reach for her wallet.

Every time Wednesday attempted to intervene, Enid waved her off, claiming it was “her treat.” so, Wednesday let it go.

For now.

Eugene, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of his life, camera in hand, clicking away at anything and everything that caught his eye.

"Hey," you said, turning to Wednesday, a thoughtful expression crossing your face. "Do you want a picture of us?" you asked.

Wednesday blinked.

You smiled.

"Just you and me," you clarified. "You should have one of us. Just us."

And Wednesday— She did not understand why she felt that small, inexplicable pang in her chest. But she found herself turning to Eugene anyway.

"Eugene," she said, drawing his attention.

The boy perked up, lowering his camera slightly.

"Yeah?"

"Take a photo," she instructed.

Eugene hesitated for only a moment before giving a small smile.

"Of course!"

He lifted the camera, adjusting the focus.

Wednesday stood still.

You stepped closer.

Your arm brushed against hers.

Her fingers twitched.

The flash went off.

Eugene lowered the camera, beaming.

"Got it!"

You turned to Wednesday, smiling.

That ridiculous urge.

That stupid, utterly nonsensical pull to return the expression.

She swallowed it down.

The night carried on, but something had shifted.

Wednesday felt it.

Felt it in the way she found herself watching you more often than necessary.

Felt it in the way she could not bring herself to pull away when you stood just a little too close.

This was dangerous.

She knew that.

She had always known that.

But she was beginning to wonder—

Had she already lost?

Wednesday’s mood was dark.

Then again, when was it not?

Everything was dull.

Everything was predictable.

Everything was exactly as it always was.

And then—

There were you...

Damn you.

It was infuriating, how easily you shifted her world, how something as simple as your presence sent a ripple through the void she had spent years cultivating.

“You’re late,” you said, teasing.

Wednesday scoffed. “I am not late. You are simply too eager.”

You grinned and without warning, you slipped your hand into hers.

Wednesday nearly flinched, not from the touch itself, but from the way it sent an unfamiliar jolt through her veins.

"Let’s sit somewhere else today," you said, tugging her toward the farther end of the courtyard.

She let you. Gladly.

The day passed in a blur of you.

You and your endless chatter, your soft laughter, your ridiculous stories that she pretended not to find amusing.

She let herself indulge in your company, allowed herself this moment of peace.

Just you and her.

Nothing else.

Just silence when she wanted silence.

Just your voice when she wanted to hear it.

Just you.

"I have something for you," you had said when you pulled her towards your dorm.

And sitting on your bed was— Oh no.

No, absolutely not.

You picked it up with a smile, cradling it in your hands like it was some great treasure before turning to her with the brightest expression.

"It’s for you," you said, holding it out. "Today is Teddy Day."

Wednesday stared.

At the scorpion plush toy in your hands.

She folded her arms. "I do not collect foolish, sentimental objects," she stated flatly. “I refuse to accept this.”

Your face fell, and something in her chest tightened, an invisible fist curling around something delicate and fragile.

She hated that expression.

Hated it more than anything.

Then you spoke, voice softer this time. “You don’t have to keep it. I just… I saw it, and I thought of you.”

Damn you.

Wednesday clenched her jaw.

She could not allow herself to care.

She could not allow herself to be weak.

But your eyes—

Your eyes.

With an exasperated huff, she stuffed the plushie into her bag, shoving it deep inside as though trying to erase the evidence of her own surrender.

And your face—

Lit up.

You beamed at her, eyes shining with something warm and unbearable, something Wednesday did not have the capacity to name.

And she—

She did not regret it.

Back in her dorm, the plushie sat at the foot of her bed.

Wednesday stared at it.

It was mocking her.

That ridiculous, soft-bodied thing with its beady, lifeless eyes.

A cruel joke. Mocking her of her surrender, of her growing vulnerability.

She was still staring at it when the door opened.

"Wednesday?... Did Y/N give it to you?"

Wednesday turned to her, brow furrowing slightly.

"What kind of question is that?"

Enid shifted on her feet, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

"Who else would have the audacity to give me something like this?" Wednesday added, crossing her arms.

Enid’s lips pressed together.

"And even if someone else did, do you truly believe I would accept something this absurd from anyone other than Y/N?"

A pause.

A long, suffocating pause.

Then—

Enid forced a small smile.

"Yeah… yeah, you’re right."

She glanced at the plushie once more, an unreadable look flickering across her face before she sighed.

"I'm sleeping in Yoko's room tonight," she said suddenly. "Um… call me if you need anything, okay?"

Wednesday tilted her head slightly.

"Why?"

Enid hesitated. Then, she shook her head.

"No reason. Just… I think I should."

She turned to leave.

Wednesday watched her go, something unsettling curling in her stomach.

The door clicked shut. Wednesday turned her gaze back to the plushie.

It sat there, unmoving.

She narrowed her eyes at it.

Then, slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing against the fabric.

Soft.

She scowled.

And yet, she did not move it.

She wasn’t sure she ever would.

Wednesday awoke to the feeling of something watching her.

For a brief second, her instincts sharpened, body stiffening against the mattress as her mind prepared for an unseen threat. Her eyes snapped open right to the source of the threat.

The scorpion plushie.

It looked… smug.

Wednesday scowled. "What?" she almost asked, but she bit her tongue, pressing her lips into a thin line.

She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t about to speak to an inanimate object.

With a slow exhale, she sat up. She knew what day it was.

Not because she had been keeping track of the dates, but because of you. Because whatever ridiculous Valentine’s tradition was set for today, she knew without a doubt that you would follow it.

And she—

She would not be able to refuse you.

And worst of all?

She didn't want to refuse you.

And now, sitting beside you, on the wooden bench tucked away near the greenhouse, she had to ask "What tradition do you have today?"

You blinked, taken aback, before breaking into soft laughter.

"You’re seriously asking that?"

Wednesday rolled her eyes.

"I suppose I should prepare myself before it hits me out of nowhere."

You giggled again, "Promise Day. Today is Promise Day."

Wednesday hummed. That seemed… easy enough. She could not recall a single promise she had made in her lifetime, but if that was the tradition for today, surely there was nothing too outrageous you had in store.

"So," she asked, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. "What do you have planned?"

You smiled.

But this time—

This time, Wednesday saw it.

The sadness behind it.

"Hmm," you hummed, looking down at your hands. "I did have it planned, to promise you—" your voice softened, "to be yours forever, to be with you forever, to love your darkness and all, to die for you and all, but I think you would puke from that, so…"

You looked up at her again, eyes gentle, expression unreadable.

"I promise to… live for you."

Wednesday stared.

"Live for me?" she echoed, voice quieter than she intended.

You nodded, a small, knowing smile playing at your lips.

"Yeah. I probably would."

Wednesday didn’t know what to say.

Live for her.

It was a statement she didn’t fully understand.

Dying for someone had always been the more poetic sentiment, had it not? The ultimate sacrifice, the ultimate declaration of devotion. But living for someone?

That was… heavier. More... terrifying.

"You haven’t made any promises to anyone before, have you?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, studying her with those eyes that always saw too much.

Wednesday shook her head.

"Promises feel… vulnerable," she admitted.

She never liked owing people anything.

"I’ll make it easy for you, then."

You turned fully to her, your eyes searching hers, locking onto them in a way that made her feel trapped yet unwilling to break free.

"Just promise me one thing," you said.

She inhaled, steady, controlled.

"What is it?"

Your voice was quiet when you spoke again.

"Promise to remember me forever."

Wednesday’s breath caught in her throat.

It was such a simple request.

So simple, and yet—

Something about it unsettled her.

Remember you forever?

She already knew she would.

Even if she had never promised it, even if you had never asked, even if the years passed and you drifted away, Wednesday knew—

She would remember you.

For the rest of her days.

She looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time, she felt as though she could not move, could not breathe, could not think— all she could do... was nod.

"I promise."

Wednesday had endured many things in her life—pain, loss, the unrelenting presence of insipid social interactions.

But nothing tested her patience quite like the traditions you insisted on following this week.

Not that she was complaining. Not that she would ever complain about you.

Hug Day had been unnecessary.

You had hugged her before—more than once. The first time had been abrupt, unexpected, and Wednesday had frozen like a marble statue, uncertain of what to do with herself. Since then, you had learned not to expect reciprocation, but that never stopped you from wrapping your arms around her. It was infuriating how you always found an excuse—whether it was a casual farewell, a moment of comfort, or simply because you felt like it.

So, Wednesday dismissed Hug Day as redundant.

But then?

There was "Kiss day".

Your lips were on hers.

The graveyard was silent, save for the whisper of the wind through the skeletal branches of nearby trees.

You had kissed before too, albeit rarely. Once, when emotions had overwhelmed you both. Another time, when you had stolen one on impulse, grinning against her lips before pulling away. Wednesday had tolerated it, even if her pulse had betrayed her each time.

But today?

It was reckless.

It was utterly inappropriate.

And that's why, it was perfect.

Wednesday had never imagined herself indulging in such foolishness, but if there was ever a way to win her over, you had found it. Grave digging to set the mood? You understood her in ways others never could.

The ghosts of this graveyard were probably awkwardly witnessing the entire ordeal.

Wednesday didn’t care.

She wasn’t going to stop.

Your lips tasted like roses and vanilla.

How was that even possible?

She didn’t know, and she didn’t care. Because whatever it was, it was addicting. When you pulled back, your breath ghosting against her lips, you giggled, and the sound shot straight through her.

“We should probably run before security comes in,” you whispered, amusement laced in your voice.

You didn’t wait for her response.

You simply took her hand, fingers lacing through hers, and ran.

And, God help her, she let you.

It was nearly 3 a.m. She and you had barely made it back inside undetected, skillfully avoiding any patrolling staff or wandering students, especially with you by her side, suppressing your giggles. She had ignored your teasing, had merely shot you a sharp look before slipping through the entrance, not bothering to check if you followed because she already knew you did. You always did.

When she finally reached her dorm, she was careful as she turned the knob, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside without a sound. But the moment she stepped in, she halted.

Enid was awake.

She was standing on her side of the room, her arms crossed, her eyes wide and glassy. She looked… angry. Or maybe distressed. Wednesday couldn't quite tell.

“Where the hell have you been?” There was no teasing lilt, no dramatic flair, no usual exaggeration Enid often used when scolding her. It was raw. Unfiltered. Desperate.

Wednesday narrowed her eyes, “I was with Y/n.”

She thought that would be enough.

It wasn’t.

Enid sighed, the kind of sigh that came from deep within, like she had been holding something in for too long and now it was spilling out in a single breath. Wednesday didn’t like it. Not one bit.

But Enid didn’t say anything else.

She just turned away, muttering a quiet “Goodnight,” before climbing into bed, pulling the blankets over herself without another word.

For a long moment, Wednesday stood there, staring at the lump of her roommate beneath the sheets, her mind working through a hundred different possibilities. But Enid had already curled away from her, body tense, and Wednesday had no patience for dealing with that now.

Something about the whole exchange sat wrong with her.

But she was too tired to push for answers.

The next morning, she awoke with an excruciating pounding in her skull.

Her first thought was to blame you.

After all, this was your fault. If you hadn’t dragged her into that entire graveyard escapade, she wouldn’t be in this state. But the moment that thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it. Because, realistically, she had let herself go with you.

She had let herself kiss you.

She had let herself enjoy it.

And now here she was, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, her temples throbbing, her body weighed down by exhaustion, her head filled with thoughts she didn't have the patience to analyze.

She groaned, pressing her fingers to her forehead.

This headache needed to be dealt with.

She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, glancing around the room. Enid’s bed was empty.

Weird.

Enid was rarely up before her. The girl had a terrible habit of sleeping in, only dragging herself out of bed when absolutely necessary. But this morning, she was already gone.

Wednesday didn’t dwell on it.

She had other priorities.

Today was the cursed day.

Valentine’s Day.

She wasn’t sure what you had planned, but she knew you had something planned. You wouldn’t let this day pass by without doing something ridiculous, without showering her in affection she never asked for but didn’t hate.

Once dressed, she stepped out, making her way toward the infirmary.

Pain wasn’t something she feared. She had endured worse things than a simple headache. But headaches were bothersome and if there was one thing she despised, it was being in a bad mood and unintentionally taking it out on you. And today was special to you. She didn’t want to taint it with unnecessary irritability.

The school was already bustling with activity. Students roamed the corridors, their chatter laced with excitement, their hands holding flowers, chocolates, small wrapped gifts. Decorations had been put up—heart-shaped banners, pink and red ribbons, utterly nauseating displays of romance.

Wednesday ignored it all, making her way toward the infirmary, her mind already calculating the fastest way to get what she needed and leave before anyone attempted to drag her into their mindless festivities.

She turned the corner, reaching the infirmary doors—

And then she stopped.

Through the small gap in the door, she saw them.

Her parents.

Standing inside the infirmary.

Her stomach twisted, something sharp and cold curling in her chest.

What the hell were they doing here?

They never visited without warning, without reason.

And they weren’t alone.

Principal Weems was there, Eugene was there too, his expression tense. Bianca stood near him, her usual confident and smug expression absent.

And then there was Enid.

She had been crying.

Wednesday’s stomach twisted at the sight.

“—she’s been like this for too long,” Principal Weems said, her voice softer than usual. “We ignored it at first, thinking it would pass, but clearly, it hasn’t.”

“She’s always been prone to obsession,” Morticia’s voice followed, carrying the usual elegance, but beneath it was something else. Concern. Worry. “We thought it was just her nature, but…”

“This is different,” Weems murmured. “It’s unhealthy.”

Unhealthy? Wednesday’s brows furrowed.

"Not surprising," Bianca added, arms crossing over her chest. "Have you ever tried reasoning with Wednesday? She doesn’t let go of things. Even when she should.”

Something in her tone made Wednesday's stomach twist unpleasantly.

“She doesn’t remember,” Eugene spoke up, his voice softer than the others, hesitant.

“She won’t remember unless she chooses to,” the doctor’s voice chimed in, steady and clinical. “It was the pain’s doing—not the physical pain, but the mental one. Trauma can manifest in many ways, but in her case… she rewrote the narrative entirely.”

Rewrote?

“We should have intervened earlier,” Weems admitted “I saw the signs, but I thought—”

“None of us knew how bad it would get,” Bianca interjected. “We all thought… she just needed time."

Time for what?

Morticia let out a quiet sigh, “My poor raven…”

“What do we do?” Enid’s voice felt like she was about to break down. “She’s my best friend, but I can’t keep watching her like this. I just can’t.”

“She needs to understand the truth,” Weems said. “She needs to accept it.”

There was a long silence, then Gomez spoke, his voice heavier than she had ever heard it.

“She won’t be able to,” he said. “Not when it comes to Y/n.”

Something inside Wednesday snapped.

She pushed the door open with more force than necessary, the sudden intrusion making everyone jump.

“What on earth are you talking about?” she demanded, her dark eyes narrowing as she took in every guilty, startled expression. “What about Y/n?”

Morticia stepped forward instinctively, her features soft with something resembling sympathy. “Cara mia, you need to—”

“I will slaughter every single person in this room without any remorse if you don’t tell me right now what the hell you’re talking about.”

The room fell silent.

Enid let out a sharp, broken breath before her face crumpled. Her tears fell freely now as she shook her head, her hands balled into fists.

"Why, Wednesday?" her voice cracked. “Why don’t you get it? Why can't you move on?! She was my best friend too!" She sucked in a breath, her voice shaking. "It hurts me too! Just as much as it hurts you. I try to move on, I try so hard, but you—” Her voice broke, her whole body trembling. "You keep bringing it back..."

Move on?

Wednesday’s head throbbed, the pain behind her skull intensifying.

“What are you blabbering about, Sinclair?” she snapped, taking a step forward, but Enid didn't step back.

Wednesday’s vision blurred for a second, a sharp pain stabbing through her skull. Her hands flew to her temples, trying to steady herself.

“Stop,” she gritted out, but Enid wasn’t done. She moved to Eugene, snatching a piece of paper from his trembling hands before shoving it into Wednesday’s grip.

“Then look,” Enid whispered.

Wednesday stared at the paper in her hands. Slowly, hesitantly, she turned it over.

It was a picture.

Wednesday stared at it.

The room around her didn’t exist anymore.

A picture taken on Chocolate Day, the day they had all gone to the theme park. She remembered asking Eugene to take it. She remembered standing beside you, close enough to feel your warmth, your presence.

But—

You weren’t in it.

Wednesday’s breath caught.

You had been there. She knew you had.

She remembered your laughter, the way you had smiled at her just before the picture was taken.

But in the photo, there was only her.

She was standing there, alone.

Her hands started shaking.

A sharp, white-hot pain struck her head, forcing her to clutch her temple, her vision blurring at the edges. And then—

A flash.

Your smile.

Your touch.

Your hands in hers.

And then—

Blood.

So much blood.

You.

Bleeding.

On the road.

No

No

She was just with you last night.

You kissed her.

She felt you.

Her breathing hitched, uneven, ragged.

Wednesday gasped, her knees nearly buckling as she clutched at her head.

"Ugh," she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut.

Memories.

They were flooding in too fast, unraveling, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.

This wasn’t right.

None of this was right.

Someone reached for her—Morticia, maybe—but Wednesday staggered back.

No.

No, she couldn’t be here.

She needed—

She needed to find you.

Without another word, she turned and ran.

Wednesday ran.

The corridors of Nevermore stretched endlessly before her, dark and empty, but she didn't care. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, but she didn't slow down. She couldn't.

You were waiting for her.

Somewhere in this cursed school, you were there.

The Weathervane. The scent of coffee and rain hanging in the air. Your hand in hers, fingers curled so delicately, so warmly around her own. You had smiled, eyes glimmering with something soft, something she never understood back then.

"Promise me something?" you had said.

She could hear her own voice, steady, unwavering, always so sure. "That depends on what you ask."

"Just remember me. Forever."

Wednesday had scoffed, rolling her eyes. "As if I could ever forget you."

The pain in her skull, the way her vision blurred at the edges—none of it mattered. She just had to get to you. She had to see you.

You, standing beside her at the crosswalk. It was late. The street was empty, save for the occasional flicker of headlights in the distance. She had been looking at you instead of watching the road. You were looking back, smiling at her.

The walking signal turned green.

You took a step forward. She took a step forward.

Your fingers tightened in hers. The light breeze had ruffled your hair, and the city lights reflected in your eyes. You looked—

Beautiful.

Headlights.

She saw it coming from the corner of her eye, but you didn’t.

Wednesday felt her heart lurch, felt the impossible, horrifying force of something being torn from her grasp.

Your hand wrenched out of hers.

The sound of flesh hitting metal. The sickening crunch of bone.

And then—

Flowers.

So many flowers.

Crimson seeping into the petals, staining the sidewalk in a bloom of red.

Wednesday gasped, her knees nearly buckling as she turned the corner, her body screaming at her to stop, to slow down, to breathe.

But she couldn’t.

No.

No, you were here.

You had to be here.

She would find you.

The greenhouse came into view.

The door was already slightly ajar, a soft golden glow spilling out into the night.

Her pulse pounded.

She stepped inside.

And there you were.

You were kneeling beside the roses you planted for her, fingertips grazing over the petals with the same delicate care you had always possessed. Your lips curled into a small smile as you glanced up at her, as if nothing had changed, as if nothing had ever happened.

"Help me water the roses, Wednesday," you said, tilting your head.

Her throat tightened.

She didn't speak, didn't ask, didn't demand an explanation—she simply moved.

She picked up the watering can, stepping beside you. She poured. Water spilled over the petals of a black and red rose, dark like ink, deep like blood.

Finally, you dusted your hands against your skirt and looked at her.

And she—

She looked at you.

Her throat ached. “You’re here.”

“Of course I am,” you said. “You found me, didn’t you?”

Wednesday exhaled slowly, carefully. “I always do.”

"Even when I’m gone?"

Something twisted in Wednesday’s stomach. "You’re not gone."

You exhaled softly. "Wednesday…"

"You’re here," she cut in, her jaw tightening. "You’re right here."

Your expression softened, something unbearably sad settling into your features. "I’m sorry."

She hated that.

Hated the way you said it like this was your fault, like you had done something wrong.

"Don’t apologize."

You let out a small, hollow laugh. "Still stubborn as ever, huh?"

"You always liked that about me." She said.

"I still do." There was something about the way you looked at her that made her feel—

Like the world had stopped spinning.

Like time had folded in on itself, just to give her these few stolen moments with you.

Like nothing outside of this greenhouse mattered.

And yet—

Something inside her twisted.

She clenched her jaw, trying to steady herself. “Why?”

Your eyes softened. “Why what?”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Why do you keep leaving me?”

Silence stretched between you for a moment. You hesitated, then reached out, your fingers ghosting over her wrist before pulling back, like you weren’t sure if she would let you.

She hated that.

She caught your hand, gripping it tightly.

You looked at her, something unreadable flashing across your face.

“I never wanted to leave,” you whispered.

Wednesday swallowed.

“You—” she exhaled sharply, her voice unsteady, weak. She hated it. “You made a promise to me.”

“I did.”

“To stay.”

“I know.”

Wednesday’s chest ached. “You broke it.”

You were quiet.

Her grip on your hand tightened. “You left me.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she snapped. “You did.”

"Wednesday…"

She refused to look away.

If she looked away, you might disappear.

You took a step forward.

She stayed perfectly still.

"You’ve always been so strong," you whispered. "Stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. But even the strongest people need to let go sometimes."

Her throat tightened. "I don’t want to let go."

"I know." You smiled, but it was laced with sadness. "But you have to."

"No."

"Wednesday…"

"No!" Her voice cracked, her fingers twitching at her sides. "I don’t— I don’t want to move on. I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and have you be gone—"

"You won’t forget me," you interrupted, reaching up, your fingers brushing lightly against her cheek. "You’ll never forget me. 

She shuddered under your touch, something inside her cracking open.

She had spent weeks—months—pretending, denying, refusing to see what had been in front of her all along. She had forced herself to hold onto you so tightly that she never realized—

You were never really there.

Not anymore.

She clenched her jaw. “Are you—” her voice wavered, breaking before she could stop it. “Are you real?”

You smiled.

“I am real, as long as you want me to be.”

Your hand was warm against her skin. She closed her eyes and leaned into the touch before she could stop herself.

She didn’t want to stop herself.

The warmth of your touch.

The soft press of your fingertips.

The headache that had been suffocating her, dulled into nothingness.

The ache in her chest, the suffocating weight—gone.

She had been drowning for so long.

But now, just for a moment, she felt like she could breathe.

Wednesday inhaled sharply, eyes locking onto yours.

You were still smiling at her. Still looking at her like she was something precious, something worth remembering.

And for the first time in what felt like forever—

She let herself smile back.

“So,” you murmured, your voice soft, teasing, familiar. “How do you want to spend Valentine’s Day, Woe?

[Author's note: Yeah, I know, don't hate me for this. The first version had an even sadder ending than this lol, Sooo, how was this Valentine's angst?]

Taglist: @rqizzu @sevyscoven @kingoftheracoons @kingofthings2 @masterofpuppets-10 @alexkolax @ognenniyvolk@mally-ka@protozoario@machyishere@freakshow2501@101rizzlrr @casbrawel @jinxslapdog @just-zy @gray-cheese @hellenheaven @blue-because-no-yellow

(I kinda lost which taglist was for which sorryyyy. If you guys don't wanna be tagged in one-shots, inform me, I don't mind. I am gonna make another post for the a better taglist based on your preferences in the future.)

[koyagifs]

𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭

pairing: wooyoung x reader au: idol | friends to lovers | genre: fluff | slight angst word count: 2 k synopsis: she fell first, he fell harder warning(s): angst in the beginning but fluff afterwards, sweet tooth rotting - literally will get cavities.

It was no secret—your feelings for Wooyoung had always been written across your face, obvious to anyone who cared to notice. Growing up side by side through the whirlwind of high school, your bond had been strong, almost unbreakable. He was the sunshine in your life, lighting up every room with his infectious energy and mischievous smile. Everyone teased you about it, but you never confirmed it—until the day you decided to confess.

It was the day he announced that he'd been accepted as a trainee. The two of you were sitting on the school rooftop, the sun setting behind him as he excitedly talked about his dreams and ambitions. Your heart raced, your palms clammy as you mustered the courage to speak.

"I like you," you had blurted out, interrupting his flow. "I’ve liked you for a long time, Woo."

The silence that followed felt deafening. His eyes widened in surprise before softening into a kind, almost apologetic gaze.

"I… I’m sorry, Ynie," he said gently, using the nickname he’d given you years ago. "You’re my best friend, and I care about you so much, but I don’t feel the same way. And with this trainee thing… I don’t think I could handle anything more right now."

Your world shattered in that moment. Every ounce of bravery you’d summoned felt wasted. You forced a smile, brushing it off like it was nothing, but the ache in your chest lingered long after.

For months, you avoided him. You couldn’t bear to see his face, hear his voice, or pretend like everything was fine. It hurt too much. Wooyoung tried to reach out—calling, texting, even showing up at your house—but you shut him out completely.

Wooyoung had tried to bury the guilt, the regret that gnawed at him for losing you. Even as his dream of becoming an idol came to life, there was always a part of him that wondered what things would be like if you were still by his side. Every practice session, every performance, every achievement—there was always a lingering shadow of your absence. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d lost someone irreplaceable, even if he had told himself it was for the best.

What he didn’t know was that you never really left—not entirely. Despite the heartbreak and the distance, you couldn’t bring yourself to let him go completely. You followed his career from afar, quietly cheering him on as he rose through the ranks to become the star you always knew he could be.

At every fan meeting, showcase, or concert you could attend, you were there, tucked away in the crowd where he couldn’t see you. Over time, some of his more observant fans began to recognize your familiar face, often whispering among themselves about who you might be. They thought you were just another dedicated fan, but they couldn’t have known the history you shared with him—the countless memories, the inside jokes, the confessions and heartbreak.

And it wasn’t just the events. You’d kept in touch with his family, too. His mom still greeted you warmly when you visited, treating you like the old friend she remembered. She never questioned why you came around, as if she understood there were things you couldn’t say to Wooyoung directly.

But you did, you've been at every event you could for Wooyoung to the point where some fans recognized you. Wooyoung had no idea that you still follow him, even talking to his family.

“It means a lot to him, you know,” she had said during one of your visits, her hands busy folding laundry. “Having someone believe in him like you do. Even if he doesn’t know.”

Her words stayed with you, but they also left a bittersweet ache in your chest. You’d convinced yourself you were fine with the distance, fine with supporting him from the shadows. But the truth was, every time you saw him on stage, every time his smile lit up a room, you felt the sharp pang of what you’d lost.

Every time you watched him on stage, your heart swelled with pride. He was living his dream, shining in the spotlight in a way that only Wooyoung could. But there was also a pang of sadness, knowing that you were watching from a distance, unable to share in his success the way you once had.

One day, at a fan sign event, a girl next to you nudged your arm, her eyes wide with recognition. "Hey," she whispered, leaning in. "Aren't you that girl? The one who's always at Wooyoung's events? Some of us have noticed you before."

You froze, your fingers tightening around the album you were holding. You hadn’t expected to be recognized, let alone confronted about it. "Uh, yeah," you said awkwardly, trying to downplay it. "I’m just a fan like everyone else."

The girl gave you a knowing smile, as if she didn’t quite believe your casual response. “Right,” she said, her eyes drifting back toward Wooyoung as he greeted the next fan. “Well, whoever you are, you must really care about him. We’ve seen you around for years now.”

Your chest tightened at her words. You did care, more than anyone knew. But Wooyoung still had no idea that you were following his every step, silently supporting him from the background.

You told yourself you weren’t ready to face him again, not after how things ended. But deep down, you knew the real reason you stayed away—it wasn’t just about the pain. It was about the fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of what he might say if he realized you’d been there all along.

And now, standing in his dorm hallway with flowers in hand, his piercing gaze locked onto yours, you realized there was no running anymore. His band mates shuffling pass, heading into their dorm as Wooyoung stood there in shocked.

His jaw tightened, his expression a mixture of disbelief and something deeper—something he couldn’t quite hide. He stared at you for a moment longer before shaking his head, almost as if trying to snap himself out of a dream.

“How?” he asked, his voice quieter, laced with confusion and a hint of frustration. “How are you here, Yn?”

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even though your heart was pounding. “ I’m on the guest list,” you said, your tone light but your grip on the bouquet betraying your nerves. “Surprised me too. I didn’t think you wanted to see me again.”

He frowned, stepping closer, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for answers. “Why would you even want to? After everything… after what I—” His voice cracked, and he stopped, swallowing hard. “Why?”

You hesitated, the weight of his question pressing down on you. For a moment, you thought about brushing it off, making some excuse, but you knew you owed him more than that. After all this time, the truth deserved to come out.

“Because I never stopped caring about you, Woo,” you admitted softly, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “Even after you broke my heart, even after I told myself I couldn’t face you again… I couldn’t let go. So I kept following your journey, cheering you on from the sidelines. I didn’t plan to show up here, but your mom called and said i should visit…” You trailed off, looking down at the flowers in your hands. “I guess I couldn’t stay away anymore.”

Wooyoung’s eyes softened, the tension in his stance slowly easing as your words sank in. His expression was a mix of surprise and guilt, his brows furrowing as he tried to process everything you had just said.

“My mom called you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, letting out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. She said it was time I stopped hiding and finally talked to you. Said you’d been… missing me, even if you wouldn’t admit it.”

He looked away for a moment, running a hand through his hair as he let out a quiet sigh. “She’s right,” he murmured, almost to himself. When his gaze returned to you, it was heavy with emotion. “Ynie, I—God, I don’t even know where to start. I thought I lost you. After what I said, I didn’t think you’d ever want to see me again.”

“I didn’t,” you admitted honestly, though your tone was gentle. “Not for a long time. It hurt too much, Woo. But your mom was right. I couldn’t keep pretending like you weren’t still a part of my life—even if it was from a distance.”

He took a step closer, the bouquet still clutched tightly in his hand. “You didn’t have to do that. I don’t deserve it, not after how I hurt you. You were my best friend, Ynie, and I let you go. I’ve regretted it every single day.”

Your heart ached at the raw sincerity in his voice, but you managed a small smile. “You didn’t let me go, Woo. I chose to walk away. I didn’t know how to be around you after… everything.”

“I got scared yn..” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “I love you too, but - i was so terrified that both of my dreams are clashing at the same time.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you momentarily breathless. You stared at him, wide-eyed, as his confession hung in the air between you. The weight of it, the raw honesty, was something you had dreamed of hearing for so long that it didn’t feel real.

“Wooyoung…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your grip tightening around the flowers in your hand.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his gaze dropping to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. “I was scared, Ynie. Scared that if I let myself love you the way I wanted to, I’d lose everything—my dream, my career, and you. And the thought of losing you in any way… it was too much.”

Your heart twisted painfully at the vulnerability in his voice. The boy you had known for years, so full of confidence and fire, now stood before you with his walls down, his emotions laid bare.

“I thought pushing you away would protect us both,” he continued, his voice trembling. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but all I did was hurt you—and myself. I love you, Ynie. I’ve always loved you. I just didn’t know how to handle it.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you blinked them away quickly, trying to steady yourself. You wanted to be angry, to tell him how much his fear had hurt you, but all you could feel was the overwhelming warmth of finally hearing the words you had waited so long to hear.

“You should have told me,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “You didn’t have to go through it alone, Woo. I would have been there for you, no matter what. That’s what I’ve always wanted—to be by your side.”

He finally looked up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know that now,” he said, his voice breaking. “I was stupid, and I let my fear get in the way. But if you’ll let me… I want to make it up to you. I want to try again. I want to do this right.”

The sincerity in his words left no room for doubt, and for the first time in years, the pain you had carried began to melt away. You took a deep breath, stepping closer to him until there was barely any space between you.

“I’m scared too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ve been scared for so long that I don’t want to let it hold me back anymore. If you’re willing to try, then so am I.”

His eyes searched yours, as if making sure he had heard you right. When he saw the determination in your gaze, a small, hopeful smile broke across his face.

“Really?” he asked, his voice soft, almost disbelieving.

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek as you smiled. “Really.”

In the next moment, his arms were around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. The flowers tumbled from your hands as you melted into him, feeling the weight of years of pain and longing finally lift.

“I won’t let you down this time, Ynie,” he murmured into your hair, his voice steady with conviction. “I promise.”

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

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Charles

Charles

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Awkward Confessions

Ace x reader (she/her)

Reader is kinda dense and loves to read

Modern AU, High school setting.

Summary: Ace, with the help of Luffy and Sabo, tries to confess his feelings to the girl he likes. He's doing his best, but somehow all his plans turn into awkward failures.

Words: 3.7k

Notes: Written for the Valentine’s Week event. Originally, I didn’t have this story for Valentine’s Day, but I had four stories and really wanted to make it five. So I turned to one of my favorite boys—Ace. I wanted to write him trying to ask you out, but like… accidentally burning flowers and having other things go wrong. I got stuck with some bad writer’s block, and the words just weren’t coming out. But then I remembered that I had written something like this before, so I went through my many files and found it. I wrote this maybe two years ago, maybe even more, so it needed a lot of editing (which means I might be getting better at writing, so yay me!). Probably needed even more, but oops. I changed a few things to fit the Valentine’s vibe, and here it is!

🫶 @captainportgasdace 🫶

English is not my first language

Masterlist

“Let's finally help Ace with his crush!” Luffy blurted out, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “He's practically dying here, trying to get this girl to notice him! We can’t just stand around—we need a plan!”

Ace groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, his freckled face tinged with a light shade of red. “I never said I needed help,” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah. And yet, you’ve been pining over her for months now,” Sabo said, giving Ace a playful nudge. “Valentine’s Day is coming, man. If you don’t make a move now, someone else might.”

Ace’s stomach twisted at the thought. He swallowed hard and glanced down. “Alright, where do we even start?”

Sabo tapped his chin thoughtfully before snapping his fingers. “A good old-fashioned bouquet of flowers. Girls love that kind of thing.”

Luffy scrunched his nose. “Flowers? That’s so boring! Why not something cooler—like, I don’t know, a giant meat platter?”

Sabo sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. “Not everyone thinks with their stomach, Luffy. Flowers are classic for a reason. They’re romantic.”

Ace shifted uncomfortably. “But… what if she doesn’t like flowers?”

Sabo rolled his eyes. “Don’t all girls like flowers?”

“What if she’s allergic?” Ace countered.

Sabo chuckled. “Now you’re just making excuses. Trust me, she’ll appreciate the gesture.”

Luffy, ever impatient, clenched his fists with determination. “Then let’s stop wasting time and go get some flowers already!”

Ace, clutching the small bouquet of flowers, hesitated for a moment before approaching you in the crowded hallway. His heart pounded in his chest as he took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady his nerves.

Summoning his courage, he called out your name, stepping forward with an uncertain smile and offering the bouquet with a mix of anticipation and fear. His face burned with a deep flush, his fingers gripping the stems so tightly they nearly bent.

You glanced at the flowers, your expression flickering between confusion and appreciation. “Why?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

Ace opened his mouth, but panic seized him, his mind going utterly blank. 

Just then, a girl walked by carrying a similar bouquet. “Oh, are you guys giving flowers to all the girls?” you asked with a teasing lilt.

Desperate to salvage the moment, Ace blurted out, “Yeah, that’s it.” His voice cracked slightly, but he forced a grin, hoping you wouldn’t see through the lie.

“Oh! How sweet, thanks.” With that, you gently took the bouquet from his hands and turned away, disappearing into the hallway.

Ace watched helplessly as you walked off, completely oblivious to what he had truly meant. Soon his brothers joined his side.

“That didn’t go how we planned.” Luffy pouted.

Sabo sighed, patting Ace’s shoulder. “Looks like we need a Plan B.”

Ace exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the crushing weight of failure. He wasn’t ready to give up just yet. Not without a real chance to say what he truly felt.

“Hey, at least you tried, right? Maybe next time, try something other than flowers…” Luffy’s words, though meant to be supportive, were betrayed by the laughter bubbling up from him.

“It’s alright, man… there’s always a backup plan. Let’s just think of something else.” Sabo added, trying to hide his laughter.

Ace rolled his eyes, still flushed with embarrassment. “This is so hard. What do girls even like?”

Luffy, his laughter tapering off, scratched his head as he offered an idea. “Maybe chocolates?”

Ace groaned. “That’s just as cliché! Is there anything that isn’t expected? Something unique and special?”

Sabo rubbed his chin, deep in thought, trying to come up with something more fitting. “Why not write her a poem? I bet she'd love that.”

Ace’s eyes brightened for a split second before quickly deflating. “I can’t write a poem to save my life! My handwriting’s awful, and I’m terrible with words. It’d be embarrassing.”

Sabo, barely hiding his amusement, grinned. “Well, even if your handwriting looks like a chicken scratched it out, the sentiment might be enough to make up for it.”

Later, Ace sat in a quiet corner, a pen, and paper in hand, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. His heart raced as he tried to write something meaningful for you, but the words felt clumsy, as if they weren’t his own. He poured his feelings onto the paper, though the poem seemed more a jumble of scattered thoughts than anything resembling the deep, heartfelt message he hoped to convey. When he finished, he reread it, feeling a wave of insecurity wash over him. It wasn’t perfect—far from it—but maybe the sincerity behind it would make up for its imperfections.

The next day at school, Ace gathered his courage and decided to give it to you. His hands trembled as he approached, his voice barely above a whisper. “Hey, I, um… have something…”

“Oh, sure! Let me see,” you said, grabbing the paper.

Ace swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he handed you the poem. His eyes watched anxiously as you began to read, his nerves building with every second that passed.

When you finally looked up, you gave him a kind smile, assuming this was part of the English classwork. “It's nice,” you commented. “But it could use a little more polishing. I can help you if you'd like.”

Your words, meant to be constructive, felt like a sharp blow to Ace’s fragile heart. He had hoped for something—anything—more. His expectations came crashing down, and he fought to mask the disappointment behind a strained smile. “Y-Yeah, thanks,” he stammered, his voice breaking as his heart sank further.

You, completely unaware of the turmoil you were causing, moved closer with a smile, eager to help him improve the poem. Ace stood there, feeling his hope crumble, his stomach in knots. 

You, focused solely on making the poem fit the assignment, offered ideas for better word choices and smoother phrasing. You were kind and patient, but to Ace, it felt like nothing more than a reminder that he had failed to make his feelings clear.

Finally, you handed the poem back to him, a smile lighting up your face. “It's a little messy, but honestly, it's quite beautiful,” you said. “It feels real. I would have melted if the guy wrote something like this for me.”

With that, you turned to walk away, leaving Ace standing frozen, stunned by your words. His mind replayed your compliment, it feels real, over and over, the phrase echoing in his ears. To you, it was a praise of his poem's sincerity—but to him, it felt like a cruel reminder of how his heartfelt attempt had been reduced to a simple class project. 

“That was a complete disaster,” Ace groaned, burying his face in his arms as he slumped down.

“Hey, don’t sweat it! We’ll think of something else. You’ve got this!”

Sabo, his eyes gleaming with a mix of sympathy and barely held-back amusement, leaned in and spoke with a touch of seriousness. “Maybe next time, try talking to her instead of writing it all down?”

Ace grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “Talking’s fine, but what should I even say? It’s like my brain stops working when she is near…” His voice faltered. He ran a hand through his hair and swore under his breath.

Sabo paused, as though considering Ace’s struggle, then offered a more practical suggestion. “Why not just compliment her? Girls appreciate sincerity, and you’re a pretty straightforward guy. You can make it work.”

Ace shot him a doubtful look, his fingers curling around the crumpled poem in his pocket as if it could offer an answer. “So, I just… walk up to her and say something like, ‘Hey, I like your hair’? That feels way too simple.”

“Stop making it harder than it needs to be. Just be honest. You’re a good guy, Ace—girls appreciate that.” Sabo just said.

Ace hesitated, the knot of uncertainty in his stomach slowly loosening. Maybe Sabo was right. Confidence. It couldn’t be that hard, could it?

Next day. Another attempt. His heart pounded like a drum, and his face flushed a deep shade of red as he struggled to find the right words when he approached you after one class. His mouth opened, but what came out was a jumbled mess. “Y-Your… your uh, hair, it's…” he stammered, his tongue twisted in knots.

You looked at him, a little confused by the awkwardness in his approach, but gave him a polite, curious smile. “My hair?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, trying to understand what he was getting at.

Ace’s face turned even redder. Why is this so hard?! He thought desperately, his mind spinning with frustration. His hands were clammy, and his heart raced as he tried to salvage what little dignity he had left.

Ace swallowed hard, his nerves on edge. He pushed forward, determined to get the compliment out. “It’s… nice,” he managed to spit out, mentally cringing the moment the words left his mouth. 

Sabo standing nearby could barely contain his amusement, shaking his head and covering his mouth. Luffy snickered, his shoulders shaking as he bit his lip to suppress the laughter bubbling up.

You blinked confused at the weirdness of the compliment, unsure of how to respond. You gave him a polite but awkward smile. “Thanks?” you said, the word sounding more like a question than an actual response.

He mumbled an awkward apology, feeling his pride crumble. Without another word, he turned and fled, his feet carrying him away with a pounding heart and a deep sense of failure.

From a distance, Sabo and Luffy’s laughter echoed in his ears, their amusement only amplifying his humiliation.

Ace, feeling utterly defeated, slumped onto a nearby bench. He buried his face in his hands, desperately trying to hide from the world. Luffy and Sabo approached him, still snickering at the scene they’d just witnessed.

Sabo clapped him on the back, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Looks like compliments aren’t your strong suit, huh?”

Luffy's laughter rang out, echoing through the area. “Dude, that was a mess! 

Ace groaned, his head sinking deeper into his hands. “This is humiliating. I’m so bad at this,” he muttered. “And only with her… I could charm any other girl, I know I could, but with her, it’s like I forget how to function properly.”

“Calm down. We’ll think of something else. You’ll find a way, even if you’re just super awkward around her.”

Luffy, his laughter fading into a reassuring grin, nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! If one approach doesn’t work, we’ll try another! Don’t give up yet!”

Ace sighed deeply, reluctantly lifting his head to meet the mischievous grins of his brothers. “I’m not sure if I have much hope left,” he said. “It’s like every chance just slips away when I’m around her.”

Sabo chuckled, shaking his head. “C’mon, you’re being dramatic. You just have to keep trying… unless you give up?”

Ace scoffed. “I’m not giving up! I can’t let her slip away like that… I just wish there was a way to express my feelings without looking like a complete idiot.”

Suddenly, Luffy’s eyes lit up with a spark of inspiration. “What if you did something super obvious? Like, so obvious she couldn’t miss it?”

Ace perked up, the smallest hint of hope flickering in his chest. “Obvious? What do you mean?”

“Like, I don’t know… confess in a public way!” Luffy suggested.

Ace’s face turned a deeper shade of red, his eyes widening in shock. “A public confession?! Are you nuts?! I can’t do that! It would be… so embarrassing!” he stammered, his heart racing at the very thought of standing in front of a crowd to pour out his feelings.

Luffy’s face fell slightly, his idea deflated. “Alright, fine. No public confessions. But we still need something big and bold to grab her attention.”

Ace slouched deeper into the bench with a sigh of defeat. “I don’t know… I can’t even hold a decent conversation, let alone do something grand without messing it up somehow.”

Sabo placed a comforting hand on Ace’s shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. “You’re letting your nerves get the best of you. We just need a plan that suits you and your style. Let’s brainstorm a bit more.”

Ace took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “Alright, I’m open to suggestions. As crazy as they might sound, I’m willing to try anything at this point.”

With that, the trio dove into brainstorming mode, throwing out ideas that ranged from utterly ridiculous to somewhat feasible. Luffy even suggested skywriting a proposal.

Ace rolled his eyes, trying to maintain his composure amidst the absurd ideas. “I’m not renting a banner, let alone hiring a skywriter! I don’t even have the budget for that kind of stunt. I was thinking something more modest… but maybe, just maybe, memorable enough to catch her attention.”

Sabo, deep in thought, considered Ace’s situation carefully. “What if you did something that incorporates one of her interests or hobbies? That way, it wouldn’t just be some grand gesture, but something personal. It would show that you’re actually paying attention to what she likes.”

Ace’s eyes brightened for a moment, a spark of realization lighting up his face. “That’s actually a good idea. She loves reading… But how do I turn that into a confession? I already tried writing a poem, and that was a disaster.”

Sabo tapped his chin, considering the idea further. “Yeah, let’s avoid making you do anything creative… Maybe you could quote a confession from one of her favorite books? That way, it feels personal, but still thoughtful.”

Ace’s eyes widened with excitement. “Really? That actually might work! I even know her favorite!”

Over the next few days, he rented the book and diligently read it. He poured over the pages, taking his time to understand the story and memorize the key lines for his confession. The weight of the task felt heavy, but with each passing day, his anxiety grew as he mentally rehearsed the words he would say. He hoped, prayed, that he wouldn’t stumble.

The day before Valentine’s Day and clutching the book tightly in his hands, Ace approached you. The instant you saw it, your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh! You have my favorite book” Your voice was filled with curiosity, and Ace's heart raced in his chest. This was it—this was his moment. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, recalling the lines he had committed to memory.

But as soon as he opened his mouth, everything fell apart.

“Er. I uh… umm, you see… uh…" Ace froze, his mind going completely blank. His practiced words vanished into thin air, leaving him standing there, helpless. His face flushed with mortification, and your gaze shifted to one of confusion. You waited patiently, still hopeful for something coherent to emerge, but Ace’s anxiety surged, drowning him in self-doubt.

His face burned with humiliation, his stomach twisting painfully. Unable to bear the tension any longer, Ace blurted out, “I—I have to go!” His words stumbled over each other, and without another thought, he dropped the book and fled, his face hot with embarrassment.

As he bolted away from the scene, Ace cursed under his breath. His hands clenched into tight fists, his frustration bubbling over. His heart pounded in his chest as he wished for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He couldn’t believe he’d just run away like that.

Sabo and Luffy exchanged a look of disbelief, watching Ace’s hasty retreat with a mixture of amusement and pity. Sabo tried to stifle a chuckle, shaking his head. “Man, he was so close, yet so far.”

Eventually, they found Ace sitting alone, head buried in his hands. Defeat was written all over his posture. Sabo and Luffy sat down beside him, offering him a moment of quiet support.

“Well, Ace, you gave it a good shot,” Sabo said sympathetically, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

Ace lifted his head, his face still flushed with shame. “I’m done,” he decided. “I’m never attempting anything like that again. I’ve had it.”

Sabo let out a soft sigh, shaking his head in understanding. Luffy nudged Ace playfully, still grinning. “Don’t give up yet, bro. You might not have nailed it this time, but you’re getting closer. Right?”

Ace just sighed, leaning back against the bench. “I don’t think I’ll ever get it right.”

On Valentine’s Day, the moment he stepped through the school doors, the sight of tacky decorations strung up everywhere made him feel like everything was mocking him. He couldn’t escape the sensation that every garish ribbon and glittery heart was making fun of his own tangled emotions. Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed the bustle around him until a voice—a voice he knew all too well—cut through the noise.

“Can we talk, please?”

There you were. The girl he had been nervously trying to confess to, standing before him. 

Sabo, who had been watching from a distance, immediately grabbed Luffy by the arm, dragging him aside. Without a word, Sabo motioned for them to hide and watch from a distance. Their eyes gleamed with excitement as they tried to remain unseen, eager to see how Ace would handle this unexpected opportunity.

Ace nodded, his nerves bubbling up as he followed you to a quiet corner, his heart racing in anticipation. He still wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but the moment felt surreal.

You opened the book to the page he had marked, and Ace's stomach twisted. He even considered running away again. You turned to him, a small, knowing smile on your face. 

“Were you trying to quote this part?” you asked, your finger pointing to the underlined line. Ace’s heart dropped at the recognition of the passage, the one he had practiced so hard.

“I-uh… yeah, I was,” Ace admitted, feeling his cheeks heat up. He was sure he could disappear into the floor if given the chance. As he braced himself for rejection, your next words caught him off guard. 

You smiled, a gentle and almost affectionate expression. “I liked it,” you said, tracing your finger over the highlighted words. “It’s beautiful, and I’m flattered you chose that part.”

Ace’s mind went blank. Shock coursed through him as he tried to process what you had said. “R-Really?” he stuttered, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

You nodded, your eyes sparkling. “I thought it was sweet that you tried,” you added, your hand tapping the page. “I just wish you didn’t run off like that. I wanted to talk to you.”

“I was just… embarrassed,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “It didn’t go as I planned, like at all.”

You chuckled. “I can tell it didn’t,” you said, your voice filled with empathy. “But I appreciate the effort… It’s cute that you’d try something so bold for me.”

Ace’s heart skipped a beat. You found him cute? The question buzzed in his mind as his cheeks flushed even deeper.

“You think it’s cute? Really?” Ace asked, almost disbelieving, his voice cracking slightly. He had to be dreaming, right?

You smiled even wider, your eyes twinkling. “Of course, it’s quite adorable, even if it didn’t go as planned,” you replied. “And so were the flowers, the poem, and that compliment.” Your voice softened, and you added quietly, “Sorry I was too dense to pick up on the meaning before.”

Ace’s heart swelled. You had noticed everything he had done, and you weren’t upset. In fact, you seemed to find it charming. His shoulders relaxed, the anxiety he’d been carrying for days melting away. He couldn’t believe it.

Feeling lighter than he had in days, Ace summoned the courage to be bold, his heart pounding. “I was trying so hard to confess to you,” he said. “But I kept messing it up. I don’t know why I get so nervous around you. I end up sounding like an idiot.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck again, a genuine smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. The warmth of your voice eased the tension in his heart. “Believe me, I wouldn’t mind more awkward confessions.”

With his confidence renewed, Ace looked into your eyes. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I like you,” he took another deep breath. “I really like you.”

The words hung in the air, and Ace’s heart raced as he waited for your response.

“I like you too,” you admitted. Then giggled as you added. “I really like you too.”

His breath caught, and before he could stop himself, the words spilled out: “So… would you … want to be my girlfriend?” He froze immediately, realizing how stupid it sounded, and his cheeks flushed a deep crimson. He looked away, half-expecting you to laugh at his embarrassment.

But instead, you just laughed, and there was something so genuine in the way you looked at him, The adoration in your gaze made him question how he had never noticed it before. “Maybe take me out first?” you teased.

“Right, right. Of course.” He laughed, feeling relief and pure joy flood over him. Oh, how he enjoyed this. “So, will you be my Valentine?” His words hung in the air, bold yet gentle, vulnerable yet hopeful. “And go out with me today?”

“I would love that.” Your smile stretched wider, and Ace couldn't help but grin back like a fool.

“Ace?” you asked, breaking the quiet, your voice almost shy now.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his heart still racing from the rush of emotions.

“Ask me later again, cause I would definitely like to be your girl,” you said, your eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, as if daring him to be bold again.

He could barely believe what he was hearing, but before he could respond, a distant cheer rang out from behind a corner.

Sabo and Luffy, from their secret hiding point, threw their hands up in triumph, celebrating the success of their matchmaking efforts. Their cheer was enough to make Ace chuckle, his cheeks still flushed but his heart lighter than it had been lately.

[vannyisinsanity]

to be quite honest, i first noticed sienna around may-june of 2023 back when i was going on a few dates with this one girl. i had watched the first terrifier before then (if i remember correctly), at least bits and pieces. i was hanging out with my older cousin one weekend and we rewatched the first one and then watched the second one. i remember not feeling romantic feelings for sienna at the time. i just remember going “wow, this character is pretty and bad ass and went through a lot. she also has a pretty name!”.

it didn’t become romantic until i was (ironically) on a date with a man back in October 2024 and we went to see the third terrifier in theaters. they did a pretty big time jump about half a decade or so later.

everything that made sienna seem cool to me was just amplified at that point. i remember empathizing with her loss and trauma because i had suffered the same. i remembered thinking she was so gentle with gabbie and it was so attractive to see her that soft. i wanted to know all her psychiatric hospital stories, and i really thought all her pain just made her that much more stronger and beautiful. i started noticing that she was a writer, she was writing more, and trying to handle her own emotions in fears of burdening others. i remember thinking she would never burden me.

she desperately wanted connection like me, and she wore the scars on her face/body with pride. despite all she went through, she didn’t give up on herself. she wore a lot of yellow too, and i kept thinking she was so beautiful and looked like sunshine. well, fast forward 4 months later and here we are. i never went out with that girl or guy again.

i moved 6 months ago to a new town for college and left all of my friends. i spend most of my time currently either at school doing homework or online obsessed with this fictional mf. despite being pretty and friendly, i just struggle making friends. i think it’s due to people boring me and me losing interest fast. like i will see certain flaws and decided that between that and my own (like my severe trust issues), i just can’t maintain it.

does anyone feel similar ? it’s always funny when people think some of us self ship bc we are lonely losers who are desperate. many of us have jobs, partners, friends, responsibilities, get asked out a lot, yet still have an obsession with our F/Os lol.

like i don’t love my blorbo because i don’t get pursued. i get pursued and still prefer my blorbo. i can’t make this stuff up. it’s been going on 2 years technically that i think about the terrifier series nearly every day.

DIS IS MY GF -

Writing backstories for why u and ur f/o got together is so difficult. Like I rizzed them up by existing and then we ran away into the sunset idk what to tell you, you just had to be there

[comradekiwi]

mini bkdk fic inspired by this art! pls go show the artist some love!!

Katsuki finds him after patrol in his old spot. His very old spot, from decades ago.

Izuku is curled up in a plastic tunnel, hand on his chin and muttering to himself as he scribbles, completely tuned out to the happy sounds of children running around their old playground.

It’s a painfully familiar sight, and Katsuki closes his eyes briefly at the pang in his chest as he sees, for one vivid moment, a four year old Deku sitting in the same red circle, with so much more space for his limbs, yet still equally curled into himself and his notebook. Izuku had always been like that, before OFA, most comfortable in a space much smaller than what he actually occupied, and forever curling into it. It was cute, then concerning, then a thing of the past as Izuku settled into his own skin. Now a nostalgic comfort, evidently.

(He’d been chubbier, freckled limbs in shorts and baby cotton, a mess of curls because Izuku loved to stick his hand in his hair while he thought. And he thought a lot, child of wonder, precious to the stars, the son of fate. Future hero of their time.)

Katsuki set one hand above the opening and leaned in.

“Whatcha doin’, nerd?”

Izuku, to his credit, only startled a little. He flashed wide eyes up at Katsuki, and Katsuki got the pleasure of watching his face light up shamelessly.

“Hi, Kacchan,” Izuku said cheerfully, and maybe this was how it should’ve gone back then, too, when four-year-old Katsuki stomped up to this same alcove and asked what Izuku was doing, maybe it did despite little Katsuki’s biting tone, because Izuku was always, had always been happy to see him,n maybe the scene had only been ruined by the taunts that came after. Katsuki didn’t quite remember, but it didn’t matter anymore. All the Katsuki of Now cared about was the poorly hidden affection in the glint of this Izuku’s eyes, adoration made solid and safe and secure.

The playset is a familiar feeling under Katsuki’s now rough palms, soft and intermittently scratched in thin lines. Izuku shuffles over in the tunnel and Katsuki folds his body to fit in next to him, and— the smell rocks him back in time, too, rubber and the tang of dirt so unusually close to his head, dyed plastic and oft-rubbed metal. Izuku’s shoulder pressing against his is a rare sensation, but it feels just as nostalgic, especially in here, backs and limbs curved along the inner surface of the tunnel. Katsuki kicks his legs up and almost knees himself in the face. Izuku giggles, and Katsuki shoulder-shoves him, delighting in how Izuku half heartedly shoves back. Izuku’s legs stay down, protectively, like he’s still that little kid so at home in his own tiny cocoon. Katsuki stares at his boots along the tunnel wall, giant in here, especially with their reach.

He shuffles his shoulders down to match Izuku’s, and leans into his space further to peer at his notebook. Izuku lets him, pointing at the page.

“I’m just lesson planning,” he says, tapping his pen at random notes Katsuki can only barely decipher, “They’ll have a pop quiz a month from now, I thought I’d let them do something fun afterwards as a treat.”

“You’re too soft on them,” Katsuki informs him for the umpteenth time. Izuku laughs at him as always.

“Sure, Kacchan,” he says, and Katsuki will never, ever get over how his name sounds from Izuku’s mouth, melodious like Izuku cradles it on the way out, like he’s singing it. He’s so— enchanting, his boy. Katsuki tries to throw an arm around him but ends up smacking his knuckles on hard plastic, and it stings like a bitch. He does not make a noise, but Izuku coos at him anyway, taking his hand and rubbing it, and Katsuki’s perfectly fine with that. He’s still tracing his notes with his eyes, thinking, always thinking, even as he absentmindedly brushes his mouth over Katsuki’s knuckles in some of Auntie Inko’s Healing Kisses. Izuku rubs his soft lips back and forth over his fingers, fully distracted now, enjoying the sensory stimulation. Katsuki lets him, chest stupidly warm, for a full minute before dragging his knuckles up over Izuku’s cheek, up and down, the skin endearingly freckled and babysoft even in his twenties. Izuku leans into his hand, and finally closes his eyes.

The sun was beginning to tease at setting, and Katsuki watches Izuku turn his head to look out the far end of the tunnel. Sunlight kissed the tops of his cheeks, dragged down his eyelashes. Katsuki couldn’t see much besides the back of Izuku’s head, but even this was precious to him for some godforsaken reason, from his crown to the nape of his neck where green curled enticingly against bare skin.

He leans forward to press his cheek against Izuku’s and look out, too. Some tots stumble over each other in excited giggles, pick themselves up from rubber mulch like they’d already forgotten the fall.

Katsuki feels Izuku’s cheek pull with a smile against his own, and the feeling is so — Katsuki doesn’t have words for it, but he just has to kiss him, so he does, right there in the kiddie tunnel of their neighborhood playground. He kisses his sweet, soft cheek, and then his temple, close-mouthed and drawn-out. He loves him so much. Maybe they’d have their own kids to watch from here some day. Or to seat beside them, an addition to their spot.

Katsuki sat back against the tunnel wall and Izuku ducked his face into his neck, the skin suspiciously warm. The nerd was probably blushing, as if they didn’t kiss, often much more salaciously, all the time. Katsuki rubbed his head with his chin, lasting about ten seconds before digging it into Izuku’s scalp with his jaw a little just to be a dick. Izuku shook him off and pouted even as he leaned into Katsuki’s mouth with the ease of a soul-bound lover, even though they weren’t even engaged yet. Soon, though. Katsuki was just waiting for the right time to really knock his socks off. It was the least he could do, after everything Izuku offered him.

(Love and safety and forgiveness. Somewhere to keep his heart safe, outside of his own body. Atonement and adoration and victory and a home.)

They didn’t kiss for long, they were in public after all, and even if no one could really see much over Katsuki’s shoulders or with the angle from the other end of the tunnel, they were still on a kids playground, and Katsuki was a pro with a reputation to uphold. He was honestly fairly certain a sneaky photo of him gently kissing his lover in an old playset would do wonders for his ranking, but he was selfish anyway, and wanted to keep these moments with Izuku for himself. Wanted to keep this side of himself for Izuku.

“C’mon. I’ll make curry tonight,” Katsuki mumbled against Izuku’s lips, hoping that would be enough for Izuku to pull away, because gods know in this one situation Katsuki is never strong enough to do it himself. As predicted, Izuku slips away with a soft noise that digs into Katsuki’s soul, and starts mumbling about groceries they’ll need to get on the way home, then.

Katsuki knows all that already, that’s why he came here to get him after all, so they could go together, so he takes to watching the dusk sink into the green of Izuku’s eyes, paint a glow into his face and his lips. He shuffles out obediently when Izuku starts pushing him, drags him out with one hand just to see him blush and stutter. Katsuki brushes a hand over the box in his pocket and thinks, maybe here, maybe this time of day, maybe soon. Izuku takes his hand easily and they start the short walk to the grocery store.

Soon, soon. Katsuki can’t wait.

[viiennie]

Chat Noir! Gojo Satoru! x Reader!

One lonely night, you're walking to your apartment after a tiring shift at work. The wind particularly blew harder that night, your arms wrapped around yourself in a feeble attempt to get warm because you just had to forget to bring a jacket.

The last thing you expected was for the famous neighborhood kitty hero to pop up behind you and drape a warm jacket over your shoulders, a wide smirk decorating his lips before he leaps away, the faint buzzing from his miraculous ringing in your ears.

Chat!Toru! who looks for that same jacket of his, forgetting that he had given it to a pretty girl on the street. He searches left and right, up and down, his room turned into a dump site from how much he had thrown around—at some point he had found things he had lost 5 months ago and rediscovered things he never thought he owned.

"Just where did I put that?" He mumbles to himself, a frustrated pout tugging on the corners of his lips. His glasses tilted from how much he's been moving around.

Chat!Toru! Who decides to drop by a nearby bakery to cheer himself up for losing his favorite jacket, a gloomy atmosphere following him as he stepped into the bakery a few blocks away from his apartment. He skims around, lazily throwing sweets into his basket, before heading to the cashier, where you stood patiently.

He's surprised when he sees that missing jacket of his clothed upon the pretty girl from last night that he now remembers to be you!

Chat!Toru! who's fighting the grin that threatens to creep into his face, his eyes stuck on the way his jacket just swallows you up. "Nice jacket ya got there." He hums, "Where'd you get it?" He innocently asks, tilting his head to the right.

You think the dork standing before you is weird, the corner of his lip twitching as he asks you where you had bought the jacket you wore from "Uh, somewhere.." You mutter, giving him his change and receipt.

Chat!Toru! who pays you a visit that night, teasing you about the jacket and how it fit you so well. He was lucky to have found you walking in the same street around the same time he had found you yesterday by your lonesome.

"Looking mighty cute in that jacket, m'lady." His smooth voice rings in the air, the melody of it almost lulling you to sleep.

Chat!Toru! Who, from then on walks you home, yapping your ears off with his stories as a hero, saving people left and right, meeting the most strangest and most unique individuals in the process. He loves to annoy you too, sneaking in corny flirtatious lines to watch the way your eyebrow twitches and your lips pucker out in a pout.

Chat!Toru! Who buys you gifts and treats you out to eat, but never as Gojo Satoru. He's too scared you wouldn't be as comfortable with him as you would be with Chat Toru. He tells himself he has to have one proper conversation with you as the 'normal' civilian him, but he always chickens out.

Chat!Toru! who finds himself sitting on your windowsill, a warm cup of hot chocolate in his hands as he giggles at the way you clean your room in haste, not expecting the hero to visit you so suddenly.

“You shouldn’t be visiting a lady like this in the dead hours of the night, kitty.” You mumble, trying to discreetly tuck away your underwear that you recklessly threw around while trying to get ready in a rush.

“I was missing you, I couldn’t help myself m’lady.”

He’s always thinking about you when he isn’t busy saving the city, his head filled with nothing but you, you, you. His day job as a florist doesn’t help him much either, every flower in the room he was in reminding him of his pretty girl who isn’t officially his pretty girl yet

Chat!Toru! who’s surprised when you walk through the doors of the small flower shop, hands tucked in your pocket with a hesitant look in your face. The way your eyes scan through the displayed bouquets doesn’t go unnoticed by him, his heart thumping through his chest as he tries to collect himself.

“I was hoping to buy flowers for a friend..” you begin, “so, uh, no romantic flowers or anything like that.”

“Oh, uh..sure thing,” Chat!Toru! nods awkwardly, his eyes scanning through the bouquets laid out behind the counter. He settles on the yellow roses, “Yellow roses symbolize a friendly relationship. Is this bouquet fine, or would you like to look at other options?”

You shake your head, digging out money from the depths of your pocket, “Those are fine.”

Chat!Toru! who hurriedly hands you a red carnation flower before you turn around to leave, “We’re giving away free flowers since today is valentines day.” He quickly explains, not wanting to creep you out for the sudden gift, “Hope to see you again!”

You thank him softly, your hands brushing against his as you take the flower from him.

Chat!Toru! who later receives a bouquet of yellow flowers, his eyes wide and mouth agape at the sight of you ushering him to just take it already.

“This is…for me?”

“Well, who else? If you don’t want it, I’ll—”

“No! I want it!” He snatches the bouquet from you, hugging it close against his chest.

(nsfw version?)

[mickyschumacher]

[I MISS YOU, I'M SORRY!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: it's been more than eight months since you and jobe broke up. that should be plenty of time to move on. but out of all the cafes in birmingham, you and jobe meet at your favourite on valentine's day.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, poor humour, slightly angsty but not really, reader is a student, mentions of a break up obviously, not much too do with the titular song sorryyy, incase it's not obvious, the fic goes in and out of the past (italics), honestly just two young kids in love

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jobe bellingham x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.5k

𝐀/𝐍: the fourth fic of my series! i thought this was the cutest one to write bc it's just young puppy love and i love everything about it. hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it!♡︎ // as usual, poorly proofread

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You were young. You had your whole life ahead of you. Or so everybody says. 

“Life’s too short to stay caught up in the past. Live in the present.” 

“There will always be someone better. Something better. Don’t reminisce about the past. Think about what will come to you.” 

But it’s because you were young...  how could you ever forget the first boy you ever fell in love with?  

Eight months and seven days ago, you broke up with Jobe (not that you were counting or anything.) Eight months was long, but it wasn’t that long. You could still feel his touch, his smell... feel him all around you. 

Some days were more difficult than others. The busier it was, the easier it was to forget that you were ever in a relationship. But sometimes, all it took was the notification of your phone to remind you.  

You stood outside a familiar scene, contemplating everything as you stared hard at the building. It was your café. Your and Jobe’s. The place where you and Jobe met. The place where you and Jobe hung out together every day because there was no other place like it.  

Your eyes fell to their sign board, red and pink chalk hearts capturing your attention as much as the lovely ‘Happy Valentine’s Day!’ sprawled across the black canvas.  

You really shouldn’t be here. Not today out of all days. But even though you had purposely gotten home through a different route to avoid this very café for the past eight months, your body seemed to remember.  

Trying not to think too much, you walked in, immediately hit with a wave of nostalgia.  

You hadn’t met Jobe at this point. You knew nothing about him. But the moment you had walked into the café, your eyes almost naturally diverted to the corner of the building. And there you were met with the most beautiful brown eyes you had ever seen.  

You didn’t know it yet, but it would soon become your favourite shade of brown in the world.  

Hesitantly, you looked over at the corner where it all began. You knew Jobe wouldn’t be there. But you couldn’t help being left with disappointment. The corner table was instead taken by a small family.  

Quietly, you peered at the cabinets of sweets. Pistachio croissants, red velvet cookies, lemon and lime cheesecakes... some of the staples of the café. You and Jobe had tried every single one of them, reviewing them in depth. Both of your favourites were the raspberry and white chocolate blondie. It was what you both chose when you first met. And to your rotten luck, you watched it get pulled onto a plate. With a small pout, your eyes followed the server, unable to look away from the dessert.  

But that was a minor distraction compared to the distraction waiting at the table being served. 

You think your eyes are deceiving you.  

That same shade of brown eyes stared back at you. Once upon a time, you were able to read them from afar. But you couldn’t remember how to. Was it disbelief? Doubt? Perhaps shock?  

You weren’t sure when or how, but your feet had managed to inch their way to his table.  

“Jobe,” you breathed out, unsure of how long it had been since you had last said his name. 

Jobe blinked, shaking his head slightly to break his trance. He cleared his throat, calling your name as he always called it. You remembered how he repeated it when you first introduced yourself to him... like he was already in love with you.  

He gestured to the chair next to you. “You can take a seat,” Jobe mumbled towards the end, hand scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.  

As you took a seat, you wanted to say something, hell anything, but you couldn’t find the words. You were pretty sure you were dreaming right now.  

“Do you want me to order you your coffee? Half strength cappuccino with cinnamon, right?” Jobe asked, standing up from his seat.  

“Oh–uh, just a hot chocolate, please,” you tightly smiled, fingers fidgeting underneath the table.  

You could see Jobe furrow his brows, wanting to say something but instead he nodded slowly and went towards the front till. As he ordered, you debated a little bit of everything.  

What were you doing right now? If you were indeed dreaming, was this a sign of some sort of identity crisis? Because dreaming about your ex on Valentine’s Day was a new low for you. If this is real, maybe you could sneak out of here. He probably wouldn’t notice. All you had to do was stand up and just– 

“You don’t drink coffee anymore?” Jobe asked, taking his seat back in front of you.  

You pursed your lips. “Not really. I’m trying to lean off of it these days.” 

Jobe nodded again slowly, processing what you said. He didn’t know this part of you. All he knew of you was the year you spent together and the past you shared. This... it’s like he wasn’t caught up with you anymore. And he hated it.  

You disliked silence. It was a known fact. You always had. It was unbearable. Like a loud clock ticking over your shoulder. So, Jobe wasn’t surprised went you spoke up a few seconds after he had finished.  

“Mum asked about you the other day,” you blurted, eyes quickly  

The corners of Jobe’s mouth quirked up. “Yeah?” He queried, ears paying extra attention.  

You nodded, pulling on your sleeves. “She found your football boots in the garage. The blue ones. She said she misses you.” 

“I miss her too,” Jobe smiled softly. His eyes flickered out the window before coming back to you. “Do you?” 

You raised a brow, ignoring the thump of your heart in your chest. “Miss my mum?” You asked even though you knew that’s not what he meant. 

Jobe laughed to himself, resting in his chair comfortably. “You know what I mean.”  

You opened you mouth to speak as your large cup of hot chocolate was placed before you. Jobe watched you smile widely at staff, thanking them and God did it send his heart running.  

“If you had to choose, what is one thing you like about me?” Jobe queried, looking down at your face as you rested on his lap.  

You pretended to mull over the question even though you knew the answer. You just wanted to feel his hands in your hair for a little longer. “Your eyes,” you decided. 

“My eyes?” Jobe repeated, eyes already crinkling as his smile widened. “What’s so special about my eyes?”  

“They’re my favourite shade of brown. I love looking into them. They’re so warm and calm, filled with so much love and yet they make me so nervous,” you murmured, cheeks heating up as a comfortable silence fell between the both of you.   

Jobe couldn’t help but grin at your shy smile. He pushed the hairs out of your face, taking a good look at you. “Is that why you always look away?” 

Bingo. He had caught you red-handed.  

“Obviously,” you muttered, unable to look at him any longer. “If I could, I would stare at you for forever. But I can’t. So, I just do it when you can’t see,” you shrugged.  

Jobe smiled, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. “I love you,” he confessed. 

“Well,” you sighed, hands warming around your cup of hot chocolate. “You’ve never left my mind. Not that you ever could,” you admitted quietly.  

“I’ll take that,” Jobe sat forward, arms resting on the table. “You miss me,” he teased, smile widening.  

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink before you put in the marshmallows on the side. Mixing the cup gently, you watched Jobe push forward the raspberry and white chocolate blondie to towards you.  

“You’re first bite. Go on,” he nudged, nodding to the plate.  

You sighed, knowing very well he wasn’t going to start eating unless you did. You grabbed a spoon, taking the corner side of the blondie. As soon as it entered your mouth, you were positive you had died and gone to heaven. “Oh my God, how they do it?” You asked to no one particularly.  

Jobe, who had also grabbed a bite, nodded in agreement. “I know right? How they get the balance so good? Not too sweet and not too sour. We still haven’t figured out what white chocolate they use.” 

“My money’s still on Hamilton’s. Ooh, or maybe Montezumas! Their chocolate buttons were so good the last time you brought them,” you pointed out, still mulling over the thought.  

Jobe stared at you quietly, watching everything fall back to its normal pace for a brief second. The one where you talked and he listened. The one where he absorbed as much of you as he could.  

“What about me?” You asked, turning your head gently to the side. “What’s one thing you like about me?” 

Jobe’s fingers slowly caressed your face as he pretended to think because he also knew his answer. “Everything,” he softly responded.

Your brows furrowed. “Everything? That’s not one thing,” you complained, reaching out to hit his shoulder gently. 

A laugh fell from Jobe’s lips. “It is,” he maintained, “everything about you makes me nervous. Every time I look at you, your smile, your eyes, your kindness... your essence makes me feel like the whole world is collapsing.” 

Reality hit, however, when Jobe recalled your breakup. Eight months and seven days ago (not that he was counting either), you both had reached a breaking point.  

You both knew it was coming. The past few days had been tense. You hadn’t seen each other as much. Jobe could barely see you smile and he hated it. And the warmth in Jobe’s eyes were replaced with exhaustion.  

You were both sat in your room in silence. Another thing you usually hated but it seemed you were trying resist it, allowing minutes to pass.  

“I think we should break up.” 

Your voice, although quiet, was resounding. It was like you had announced it in a stadium. It was echoing back to your ears and making your heart beat thud and your hands clammy.  

“I...” Jobe didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to agree with you. But he knew it was right.  

You let out a tired sigh. “Jobe, how long are we going to go on like this? Hmm? How long are we going to pretend our lives aren’t in the way of our relationship? You’re always at training. And I’m always studying. I can’t reschedule another date... another birthday.” 

Jobe closed his eyes at your words. His body burned with anger and annoyance. He had rescheduled your birthday dinner not once, not twice but four times because he had training.  

You understood Jobe. He was new to Sunderland and he didn’t want to mess anything up. Not with him carrying the Bellingham name. Not with all the eyes watching him. But even that had a limit.  

“I don’t think this is our time, Jobe,” you croaked, throat breaking as hot tears welled up in your eyes.  

Jobe could feel his heart shatter. He hated seeing you sad. Fuck, he hated it so much. But the truth was loud in his ears.  

He couldn’t make you happier. He couldn’t make the time. 

You couldn’t compromise any longer. You couldn’t make the time. 

“Wouldn’t it be so funny if the chocolate was from Sainsbury or Aldi’s or something?” You joked, bringing Jobe back to reality once again.  

Jobe looked at you quietly before blurting, “I’m sorry.” 

You paused, smile dropping off of your face. “Huh? All of a sudden?” 

Jobe sighed before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I never made time for you. I’m sorry for rescheduling your damn birthday out of all things. And most of all, I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us more.” 

You sucked in a sharp breath, not expecting your heart to ache so abruptly. You tried looking into his eyes, but all you could do was focus on the floating marshmallows in your hot chocolate, all slowly disappearing. 

Your eyes burned on the brink of crying but for some odd reason... you couldn’t. 

“Do you know what it means to live, Jobe?” 

Your question sent Jobe into a flurry of confusion. “I don’t... I, uh–” 

“To live life is to be in the moment. To take joy and sorrow in all we have. Living means to never take anything for granted.” You breathed in, slowly moving your eyes to his. There it was. Your favourite shade of brown. No exhaustion in sight. Just warmth, calm... love. 

“I don’t think I started living until I met you.” 

Jobe couldn’t help but sit back and truly take you in. Your eyes shook, clearly nervous, but you voice was firm, clear on what you had said. He was sure there’d be times in the future, but right now, you were making him the most nervous he had ever been in his entire life.  

You looked like love.  

You looked like the love of his life–heck, you were love of his life.  

“These past eight months... listen, I know the last few days before our break up sucked but,” your breath hitched while tears officially began welling in your eyes, “these eight months and seven days have been miserable.” 

Jobe couldn’t help but laugh softly at your words as he bent forward, wiping away your stray tears. You had also been counting.  

“I’m in love with you,” Jobe confessed, hand caressing your cheek, “I always have been. And I always will. Please give us, me, a second chance.” 

Your eyes softened at his words, mouth about to open to respond when his voice cut you off. “Unless you’re in a relationship–shit, wait, I forgot to ask you that. You aren’t, are you? Not in like a bad way because like people would be crazy not to ask you out but–” 

“Jobe!” You interrupted; eyes wide with amusement. You could hear him go quiet making you laugh softly to yourself. “I’m not in a relationship,” you confirmed.  

A big sigh of relief fell from Jobe’s lips, shoulders dropping now that he was tension-free. He sat back in his chair, muttering something about how thankful he was to the universe.  

You cleared your throat, gaining his attention once again. “And for the record...” You started, grabbing his hand from across the table. Instantly, he tightened his grip around, afraid you’d let go. “I’d love to give us a second chance. And I promise I’ll make time. We’ll figure this out together, hmm?” 

Those lovely brown eyes you had fallen in love with shone and you doubt anyone would believe you, but you think he’s on the brink of crying. Jobe smiled, holding your hands close to him. “Does this count as a second date?” 

You narrowed your eyes. “You better be joking,” you teased.  

“But this is where we first met!” Jobe retorted, grin playing on his lips. 

You furrowed your brows. “What were you doing here anyways? It’s Valentine’s Day.” 

“Honestly?” Jobe asked, receiving your nod. “I was going to cheer myself up with this raspberry blondie. And then I saw you.”  

You smiled widely. “It’s like the first day we met all over again.” 

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 

[austinslounge]

I didn't want to bring it up, but now that another anon mentioned it, I'll admit that I too am worried about Austin's disappearance. I don't expect him to be seen out on dates like a wild man, but he hasn't even been spotted out with friends in LA or elsewhere. One red flag was just 2 nights ago, when Dune 2 cinematographer & Josh Brolin had a Dune book release party at a gallery. Denis & Timmy showed up, but not Austin. Can't he do at least the minimum promo, as a courtesy to his friends?

I'm glad he's been spending valuable time reconnecting with family, but eventually he'll want to go back to the life and career that he's worked so hard for. Yes, there are certain successful actors that can live a life completely outside of Hollywood (Ryan Gosling comes to mind), but Austin is just not there yet. He's still building his career, and any talent manager or pr professional will tell him to get out there & network.

I know you are of the opinion that Austin was so happy to dump K's ass & they were a meaningless pr relationship, but what if that's not the case? What if he had a change of heart or was hoping to patch things up, but K moved on like Austin never existed? What if the breakup has taken its toll & he is struggling? None of us are in his head, by your own admission, so we don't know what negative thoughts he might have while alone & no longer with a romantic companion. That can be the case for any person, but compounded by the pressures of Hollywood stardom makes things even more challenging.

Okay, you all are going to need a seat for this one, because I have a lot to say.

Anon, I understand your concern, but keep in mind that even early last year, Austin wasn't spotted in LA for months unless it was during a red carpet event (and he had several last year).

His pap visibility, even from last year in LA, subsided drastically. The only time he was usually papped was when he was spotted with [Redacted] or in NYC filming. I think it's pretty clear now who was calling the paps.

I think fans just got used to him promoting a bunch of stuff last year, being everywhere for "Elvis" promo and awards season, and being with a pap-calling gf, that fans didn't realize that he's actually pretty low-key when he's not working or dating someone who's calling the paps every 2 seconds. 😒

Keep in mind that Austin might not even be in LA atm. We really don't even know. He hasn't been spotted since Colorado. If he's spending time visiting his family, then good for him! That should be encouraged, not discouraged (imo).

Also, keep in mind that Austin and Callum hung out and weren't papped or even seen by locals while out together. They mentioned during their MOTA press tour that they hung out together with each other while Callum was in LA visiting from London. We didn't even know that they had hung out in LA together until they themselves mentioned it. Again, more signs that Austin isn't the one calling paps on himself.

It's also good to remember that Austin is usually a homebody. Even Florence said during their Dune Press Tour that she had to drag him out of his hotel room to get him go out while they were in Budapest filming lol. 😅 He's an introvert. Him being by himself or not "out and about" doesn't mean he's depressed. Just because you're alone, it doesn't necessarily mean you feel "lonely". You can be in a relationship and still feel very lonely and dejected. (Keep that in mind)

Wrt the Dune Book Release Party -- Ummm...Timmy is the lead in Dune Part 2. Austin is not. Timmy is also campaigning for an Oscar. Austin is not. Austin has already done the whole Oscar campaigning where he was seen everywhere. He's not going to do something that he doesn't have to do lol.

Austin's career and visibility is just fine imo. It's actually very smart if he wants to be an actor who people can realistically believe can disappear into various different roles. Maybe he himself doesn't want to become too overexposed since he already went through a huge Elvis press tour & awards season where he was everywhere, and he had 3 projects to promote last year.

Austin (so far) seems like he's honestly just enjoying his life and time off before he has to promote 2 films this year, and possibly film something else.

Look, I know some of you out there may have this whole fantasy in your heads about how Austin is missing [Redacted] and wants her back lol, but just look at the facts!

Austin dumped [Redacted]. It was his decision! It wasn't like she dumped him, and now he's feeling bad and wants to make things work. It didn't even seem like they had a huge blown up fight and broke up in haste! According to DM, he had even stopped making an effort 6 months prior to see her. That right there should tell you something. She was turning him off pretty badly if he didn't even want to see her, even just for.... 👀 Look -- He pretty much showed by his actions how he feels.

Austin and [Redacted] broke up months ago. In fact, I believe they broke up even as early as September. Don't you think that if he wanted her back, he would have done something by now?? She's been single for months before getting with Lewis lol.

If Austin were "sad" about her being with another guy and wanted her back, don't you think he would have done something to get her back while she was getting close with Marcello?? Toe Thumbs Dude? Santa's Lap Dude? Think about it. 🤔

Look at the way Austin looked while in a relationship with [Redacted]. Can you honestly (with a straight face) say that Austin looked happy...especially all of 2024 with her? Why would you think that he would want to go back to a relationship w/a woman who he looked miserable and depressed with most of the time?? Someone who he was liking videos on IG tagged "toxic relationships"? Girl, get real! Idk any man who would be mourning a relationship like that. Especially one in which her family threw him under the bus, and one where the media was going back and forth on how "they have nothing in common" and there's "trouble in paradise". Why regress back into a relationship in which Austin didn't even look in love with her? (And we all know what Austin in love looks like -- We had 8 years of seeing him in love).

In conclusion, before I end this essay, I just wanted to say that we just need to be patient. We will see Austin again.😊 He will pop up (maybe even unexpectedly!?). Fans just have to be patient, that's all. 💜

[jeoxnstar]

To my girls, Harrie, Cher, Janny, G, and Lizzy I wanna take some time to write some words about you. (charms ill send it on discord cuz ik u dont enter tumblr)

First off @anglku, Harrie we met months ago through someone we had in common but i had known u for months before i had been a follower since your first fic in your blog..I loved your writting (still do) somethings happend and we stopped talking but on jan u reached out to me to ask how i was. You made me feel comfortable and safe since that convo, We talked and patched things up and now uve become one of my reasons to wake up everyday, my day is incomplete without interacting with u atleast once. I love u so much, Seeing you and the girls happy makes my day. I love talking to you about anything. Please know that you can talk to me about anything and i mean anything. And you or any of the girls will never make me uncomfortable.

Things that remind me of you are- Bts (ofc), The sun, the girls, cher, the sky mask filter on snap, the weekend Song that remind me of you- Snooze by sza (especially this part "How can I snooze and miss the moment? You just too important") Secondly @redcherrykook, Cher what can i say .. we met in jan after you reached out to me to ask how i was doing..but just like harrie i had known you for months ..i had followed you since like sep 24? I was a fan of your work but i never reached out i did sent anon asks every now and then. During that first convo u made me feel comfortable like har did , You made sure i wasnt uncomfortable with you texting me and i appreciate that alot. I remember i was having a bad day because of me and my gf not being in communication and u heard me out u gave me valid advie..and im grateful for that. I love you so much. You and the girls are my world id do anyhting for u guys. Just like harrie Know that u can talk to me about anything and that im always here to talk .I love spamming bad bunny lyrics and talks in spanish with u.

Things that remind me of you are- Bts (ofc), hello kitty, har, the girls, the baddiesss pose for me audio,bad bunny, the kissy filter on snap Song that remind me of you- DTFM by Bad bunny (especially this part "Que a los ojos te miré Y contarte las cosas que no te conté ") Thirdly (is that even a word anyway) @billiessillywife, Janny..theres so much to say..jana we met in jan..i texted u because i saw u were sad and asked you what happend? and that when our friendship began. I first met you because i was scrolling and i saw a billie page and entered it turned out to be you. You never fail to make me feel loved wanted and appreciated..i love talking to u i love the random messeges in my inbox. i love hearing u yap because im a yapper. I remember when u found out about me har and chers past and u were pissed. ..since that day uve become the groups bodyguard our mom. Even thought u have things going on in ur personal life u always hear us out and give us advie i love u sooo much. Your my fav roadmen.

Things that remind me of you are- Billie (ofcc), the sky, the girls, anytime i see a roadmen, male fantasy Song that remind me of you- Birds of a feather by billie eilish (especially this part "birds of a feather we should stick together ") Fourthly (not a word lets ignore-) @g...g ik ur not on tumblr so harrie show her💔...G we met when i made the gc on snap. Your one of the funniest humans i know..ur so kind and i love talking with u. I love when u spam the gc with your man and your pics. i love entering snap and seeing "g sent a snap" i always smile at it. I love u soooo much. You never fail to make me laugh and im grateful for that because even in days were im at my low seeing u simping over ur man makes me laugh. You and ur man are the best ok. You never make me uncomfortable and you can talk to me about anything..I love seeing u get traumatized by har and cher its funny. But uve just accepted at this poin. I love my multilingual queen<3

Things that remind me of you are- Your men, Har, THAT MEME, a puppy, my translator (ifykyk) Song that remind me of you- Campfire by Seventeen (especially this part "When things are hard and you’re tired I’ll shine on you ") Last but not Least @lizzikoo, Lizzy, we met in jan..i first knew u through jana, i always saw u and her interacting but i never messaged u cuz im shy. U texted me and asked to be friends to which i said yes ofcc. I wanna say your one of the realest persons i know. Our first convo was genuine..we talked about some personal things and i related so much. so thank u for trusting me. I love talking to u about anything. Even thought i think ur wing stop obsession is WILD (like wym u were reasy to drive 50 min for some wingstop-) but i till support it! I love u so much i know weve only known each other for such little time id do anything for u. I love us mmm and never let anyone dim ur passion love u always.

Things that remind me of you are- Wing stop, late night slushie, Bts (especially jungkook, sweets Song that remind me of you- Good day by Bts (especially this part "You won't be alone, always I'll be by your side, we'll be okay ") To all of you guys, Harrie, Cher, Janny, Lizzy, G.. I love u guys sooo much you guys are the reason i wake up with a smile everyday. You guys are the reason i open tumblr and snap everyday. You guys are the reason that when im sad and want to give up i keep fighting. I used to not believe in everything happens for a reason...it may sound cringy or whatever but thank to you guys i believe everything happens for a reason. Every tear, Every hard moment, Every happy moment led me to you guys and i will always be grateful for it. I love u all to the moon and back. No matter what happens ill always have your back. ill fight any bitch that says shit about yall. love u.

Things that remind me of us are- Ive, the night sky, late night texts, snap, tumblr, insta, the word love and home. Song that remind me of us- Perfect night by le sserafim and Die with a smile by Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga (especially these parts "I got all I need, you know nothing else can beat The way that I feel when I'm dancing with my girls" - perfect night "If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you" - die with a smile)

[eulaliasims]

Round 3, Midwife 4 / 8

Soon after the wedding, a familiar face wanders in from the forest.

Angus: Hi, Mister Deer Man.

Arturo: Hello, small child who can apparently see me.

Angus: Of course I can see you. I'm Angus.

Arturo: So you are.

Arturo: Little mortal.

Helenet: Ah! By the gods, we need to put a bell on you. Or teach you how to knock.

Arturo: Ah, but that would ruin the surprise.

Helenet: Oh, so you are doing it on purpose.

Arturo: Your child is a witch.

Helenet: Angus? You can tell that so easily? I didn't think he was old enough yet for the magic to manifest, if he inherited it.

Arturo: That, or I have utterly lost my touch for concealment charms.

It's important to stop by and argue with the mortals once in a while. For fun. Gotta keep them on their toes. I'm sure I had a reason for taking these pictures three months ago, but damn if I remember what now.

Elmet, meanwhile, has another important question to ask Helenet later that night, when she's getting ready for bed...

Elmet: Netty, do you think we should have a baby?

Helenet: I'm not opposed to it, but… you realize a baby might be wirokū like you, right?

Elmet: No, I don't think so. I mean, I wasn't born a werewolf. People aren't born werewolves, are they?

Helenet: Yes. I told you about the werewolf family my grandmother knew of, didn't I?

Elmet: I kinda thought they were all just really, really unlucky.

Helenet: *sigh* I would be happy to raise a baby with you, but maybe first you should think a little bit more about what it would mean if they are born a werewolf.

You want Elmet to THINK? idk about that, Helenet.

But Elmet obeys her anyway, contemplating the matter during his nightly excursion while he watches the fire and waits for Arturo to show up.

He's not convinced Helenet is right, that their children would be born werewolves. He wasn't, after all. If a redheaded man dyes his hair dark with walnut hulls, it doesn't mean his children will be born with black hair instead of red. Lycanthropy is like, uh... walnuts? The metaphor has gotten away from him somewhere, but Elmet's point still stands.

Arturo: You are unusually thoughtful tonight.

Elmet: Netty thinks that if we have a baby, it'll be a werewolf.

Arturo: Helenet thinks many things. In this case, she is probably correct. There is a good chance of it. The lycanthropy has become a part of your blood; it is how it keeps its hold on you.

Elmet: Hm.

Arturo: I take it that is not the answer you desired.

Elmet: I… I don't know? I want to have a baby with her, so bad, like, I finally understand what my brother was going on about. It's wild.

Arturo: Many, if not most, humans have a strong biological urge to reproduce. It is the lingering nature of our animal pasts.

Elmet: Uh, okay. But remember the things I told you, the things I don't like about being wirokū? And I think, why would I want my child to experience that too?

Arturo: Consider that your condition came about as the result of a traumatic event; your child would be born to it naturally and never consider that it should be another way, unless you were to actively pass your anxieties onto them. You seem to have adjusted significantly since I met you.

Elmet: I still hate the shedding, though. It makes my pants itch.

Arturo: All mortal bodies are annoying sometimes. Some men hate having to shave their beard every day, you hate having to shed your fur.

Elmet: Who's shaving every day in this cold? Wait, Arturo, can you grow a beard? Have you been shaving it all this time?

Arturo: This isn't about me.

Elmet: But now I need to know!

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.218 Giving me life

The next day, I made a point to get up extra early so we wouldn't have another frantic mad-dash out the door. That kind of stress isn't good for anyone. I took a long, hot shower, did my hair, and put thought into my outfit vs. just grabbing something. I went to get Desi up, but as always, she had already beaten me to it. She was playing in her room, so I left her to make breakfast. We enjoyed a nice, slow morning, just like in the old days, but something troubled me. I had another nightmare. This time aliens abducted me, and they did all kinds of experiments on me while I was still conscious; it was terrible. I know it's natural to have lingering stress after a traumatic event, but the trouble I felt didn't seem related to the fire. The heaviness around me felt more unsettled than fear or panic. Deep down, waaaay in the crevices of my subconscience, I knew what plagued me, but I hadn't allowed myself to address it. The fire trauma was just the mechanism used to get my attention, and now, with all these nightmares haunting me, I can't ignore it. I kept telling myself I wasn't ready and stuffed those thoughts in the farthest parts of my mind, but I should have known they would come back to bite me. I need to visit the cemetery.

The groundskeeper threw away all the flowers and candles we had left at each visit; that's how long it had been. I was so ashamed at the sight. Their name plates were all dusty, and my grandparents' were barely legible from being covered in dirt. I knelt in front of Mama and wiped away the dust.

"I'm sorry, Mama. I didn't think I was ready to see you, so I kept putting it off. But days turned to weeks, and weeks into months, and here I am."

"So many things remind me of you, and I can't stand it. But I love it too. You're unforgettable, not that anyone could ever forget their mother. I don't know what I'm saying... Desiree is so big now. We had a fire at our house, and she's still pretty rattled, so I don't think bringing her here will be a good idea right now, but as soon as she's ready, I will."

"Less' kids are great. A little rambunctious, but great. And she's excellent with them, too. You would be so proud of her. I bought a duplex in San Sequoia so she could live next door. It's been great. I'm doing what you asked: taking care of my sister."

"Long time ago, you told me to find someone who fits into my life who I can't live without. Every day, Sophia shows me how there is no one else in this world who could have given me such a wonderful life. I may have had a lot of insecurities about relationships early on, but I never forgot what you told me. I always thanked Dad and gave him credit for getting me from a boy to a man, but I never gave you credit for giving me a framework to guide me. So...yeah. Thanks."

"It looks like it's gonna rain soon, so I guess I'll get out of here. Hopefully, you'll be able to see this before it goes out. I'm lighting a candle, so you'll know I was here. I love you, Mama, and I wish you could see how wonderful my life is. We've had lots of challenges, but I wouldn't trade any of it. I miss you. I'll see you soon."

I stood there in silence, remembering our good times and feeling grateful for the wisdom my parents bestowed upon me. An odd surge of energy coursed through my body, and I knew for sure this visit was what I'd been needing. The truth behind my procrastination is simple: I didn't want to feel broken again. Grieving my parents, especially Mama, drained me, and I felt like I would never be whole again. I hated that feeling and didn't want to experience it again. But standing there, holding that candle, thinking about my beautiful mother gave me life.

I put down the candle and started to leave. Just before I reached the exit, I heard, "Wait! I'm here!"

"Me too," another echoed voice said.

Both of them?? What are the odds?

All at once, I was a little kid again, happy and excited about hanging out with his parents. Mama wanted to know about the duplex, so I started from the very beginning with Dub moving to San Sequoia and buying his house. I rambled on and on about that, and the money tree, and our vacations, and Desi getting into yoga, and my SimTube channel... I felt like Chi Chi had possessed me, ha ha. Talking to them again filled me with such delight.

I thought hearing about everything they missed might upset them, but my life events elated them. I swear, with every story I told, Mama got more and more pumped up. By the time I was done, she was squealing with excitement. I guess when you live a full life like she did, you don't feel like you're missing out when you die. You just cheer on everyone as you watch them grow. That's a life lesson right there.

"I'm so proud of you," Dad said.

Hearing those words again healed my soul. I tend to think I live right and make good decisions, but receiving affirmation that I'm on the right track never gets old. I'm really glad I came.