#if you were expecting something else just say so!)

[solxamber]

Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day with: Pomefiore

Go here for other dorms

Vil Schoenheit

The second you step into Pomefiore’s lounge, you realize Vil has been waiting for you.

He’s seated elegantly by the window, his posture perfect, a teacup balanced between his fingers. His gaze flickers up the moment you enter, sharp, knowing.

You hesitate. How does he already look so smug?

Still, you square your shoulders and walk up to him, holding out the chocolates. “These are for you,” you say, voice steady.

Vil sets his cup down with a soft clink, taking the heart-shaped box from your hands with the same effortless grace as everything else he does. He turns it in his fingers, inspecting it—not because he doubts it, but because he already knows exactly what this is.

Then, before you can even gather the nerve to confess—

“I accept,” he says simply.

You blink. “Wait—what?”

Vil raises a brow. “What? You thought you were being subtle?”

Your stomach drops.

“You’re many things, sweet potato,” he continues, setting the chocolates down beside him with care, “but subtle about your affections? Let’s not joke around.”

Oh. Oh, this smug—

Your face burns as you cross your arms. “Okay, well, maybe I was obvious, but you could’ve let me confess first.”

Vil smiles, perfectly composed, but unmistakably pleased. “If it makes you feel better, I accept that as well.”

Your breath catches.

He leans forward slightly, studying your face, and you swear you see a flicker of something soft beneath the confidence. “I like you too,” he says, quiet but firm. “That much should have been obvious.”

Your heart stumbles.

Before you can even fully process it, Vil smoothly rises from his seat, offering you his hand. “Now, come along. I’ll be taking you to dinner tonight.”

You blink at him, still slightly dazed. “You just decided that?”

Vil huffs, amused. “Of course. What, did you think I’d let my significant other spend Valentine’s eating alone?”

You narrow your eyes. “You say that like I wasn’t going to invite you first.”

He smirks. “Then we’re in agreement.”

Your heart is going through it, but you take his hand anyway, because honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rook Hunt

You reach into your bag, expecting to pull out the chocolates you painstakingly prepared for Rook—only to find a second box already sitting inside.

Your brain short-circuits.

You definitely didn’t put that there.

You pick it up carefully, turning it over in your hands. The wrapping is elegant, the ribbon tied with impossibly perfect precision. There’s no note, no signature—but you don’t need one. It’s him. It has to be him.

Rook.

You exhale a laugh, shaking your head. Of course. Of course he’d beat you to it.

But you’re not about to let him win that easily.

Finding Rook Hunt is usually a near-impossible task. Not today.

You spot him leaning against a railing, watching the scenery below, looking perfectly at ease—like he wasn’t out here committing mysterious, romantic mischief mere moments ago.

“Rook.” You approach, arms crossed, the chocolates he left you tucked under your arm.

He turns at the sound of your voice, grinning immediately. “Ah, trés bien! My beloved trickster arrives!”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the fondness creeping into your smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

Rook tilts his head innocently. “Whatever could you mean?”

You don’t humor him. Instead, you hold up the mystery chocolates, raising a brow. “You didn’t sign them.”

He sighs, dramatic as always. “Alas! It seems my affections are far too transparent.”

You huff a laugh, then finally pull out your own chocolates, thrusting them toward him. “Well, guess what? I had the same idea. Happy Valentine’s.”

For a second—just a second—you catch a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

Then, his expression melts into something impossibly warm.

“Oh~” His voice lilts, delighted. He takes the chocolates from your hands with such reverence, as if you’d just handed him a priceless treasure.

“You honor me,” he murmurs, turning the box in his hands before meeting your gaze again. “And I assume, mon cœur, that this means…?”

You smile. “I accept your confession.”

For a moment, he’s silent.

Then—he beams.

And before you can react, he takes your hand, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your knuckles.

"Ah, mon amour,” he sighs, eyes glinting with pure joy. “How truly, devastatingly romantic! To think, we were of one heart even before our words were spoken.”

Your face burns. “I—Rook—”

But he’s already laughing, utterly overjoyed. “Come! Let us make this day truly one to remember. Allow me the honor of taking you on a proper outing—just the two of us.”

Your heart stumbles, but you don’t even try to fight the smile pulling at your lips.

“…Yeah. I’d like that.”

Rook grins.

And as he pulls you along—his hand firm in yours, his laughter bright—you realize you wouldn’t change this for the world.

Epel Felmier

Epel stares at the chocolates in your hands like he’s not entirely convinced this is real.

“You—” He swallows, his grip tightening slightly around the box. “Are ya givin’ this to me, or am I just holdin’ it for somebody else?”

You blink. “I’m giving them to you, Epel.”

His ears go a little pink. He glances down at the chocolates, then back at you, hesitation flickering in his eyes. “And—uh. Y’mean it like… friendly-like, or—?”

You exhale a laugh, realizing what he’s asking. “Romantic.”

Epel freezes.

For a second, he doesn’t say anything—but then his carefully practiced Pomefiore polish shatters completely.

“Holy hell,” he breathes, his accent coming through so thick that it almost makes you laugh. “Ya serious? Y’like me? Like—like fer real?”

You nod, amused and a little flustered yourself. “Yeah, Epel. For real.”

He lets out a sharp breath, like he’s been hit with a gust of wind, and then he grins.

Not his usual polite, practiced Pomefiore smile—but a real, genuine, bright-as-hell grin.

“Well, shoot,” he mutters, ducking his head for a second, clearly overwhelmed. But when he looks back up, his eyes are shining.

“I like ya too,” he admits, shy but firm. “Been likin’ ya for a while, actually.”

Your heart stumbles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His grip on the chocolates tightens slightly, like he’s grounding himself. Then, with a newfound confidence, he straightens up, chin lifted. “So, uh. You free later? I wanna take ya out proper. Y’know, for a real date.”

Your stomach flips. “You’re asking me out?”

Epel’s grin turns a little cocky now, his usual mischievous side creeping in. “Well, duh. What kinda guy would I be if I didn’t?”

You can’t help but laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. “Then yeah. I’d love to go out with you.”

Epel’s smile softens, and he nods once, firm and satisfied.

“Good,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I better start plannin’ somethin’ nice, huh?”

And as you watch him glance down at your chocolates again, his fingers running over the edges like he still can’t believe this is real, you know for sure—this was worth it.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[ukiyoriki]

BOYFRIEND & CHILL

╰ — when they wanna watch movies and chill with their gf 𓈒

TESTI — boyfriend enha get home from practice and all they want to do is cuddle and watch movies with their girlfriend 𓈒 was too lazy to do maknae line, sorry 𓈒 𓈒 엔하이픈 +x fem!reader . skinship , cuddling , kissing , petnames , && lots of fluff 𓈒 (⸝⸝⸝╸▵╺⸝⸝⸝)

HEESEUNG ──── practice? rougher than usual, but he wasn’t thinking about that right now. all that was on his mind was arriving home to his beloved girlfriend, you. on the porch, heeseung fumbled with his keys, unlocking the door quickly. he was met with the sight of you reading a book while sprawled out on the sofa. he smiled and walked over to you, slamming the door with a soft thud. you look up from your book and greet him with a warm smile, standing up. he walls over to you, taking off his jacket and immediately pulling you into a tight hug. “baby, i missed you so much..” he whispers as he nuzzles his head into your hair, inhaling your scent with a soft sigh. “i missed you too, how was work?” you ask, but his mind seems to be somewhere else as he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom “it was fine..” he murmurs in your ear, making you blush slightly. “wanna watch ocean waves?” he asks, laying you down before rolling you over and getting in himself. he wraps his arm around your waist, waiting for your response. you smile and reply, “of course i do..” he chuckles, reaching for the remote. “besides, i knew you’d make me watch it again for the 10th time even if i said no.”

JAY ──── practice was tiring, much expected, but it wore him out significantly. you were scrolling on the new phone jay had recently bought you when the door opened with a soft click. “how’s my favorite princess doing?” he asks, his voice echoing throughout the large room. you look up and smile, standing up. “i’m good, now that your here.” you give him a quick kiss on the cheek before he takes off his designer coat. “how was practice?” you ask, heading to the kitchen. “it was okay, nothing out of the ordinary..” he says back, following you. as you grab a stray tupperware and place it back in the drawer, his arms wrap around your waist. “wanna watch titanic..?” he asks you politely, burying his head into the soft crook of your neck. you smile and say, “that’s the fourth time this week just watching the movie for the straight four hours.. but how could i say no to you?” you step away from the counter and jay doesn’t hesitate to carry you bridal style, careful as to not grip you to hard as he carries you up. “i can walk, jongseong.” you say, sighing into his chest. “yes, and?” .

JAKE ──── although under the weather, it didn’t stop him from craving the urge to cuddle with you in bed. opening the door, he doesn’t see you in the living room, so he tosses his bag and hat onto the sofa before running up the stairs, his footsteps making an echo in the lavish penthouse. he bursts into your room, making you turn your gaze away from the tv. “hey, baby..” he pants out, jogging over to you. you smile at the sight of him out of breath and ask, shifting to the edge of the bed, “why’re you so excited to see me?” he pouts and answers, “give me a good reason as to why i shouldn’t be happy to see my lovely girlfriend.” you sigh and don’t say anything, unable to think of something. “that’s what i thought.” he snickers, getting under the sheets with you, grabbing the remote from the side table. “we’re rewatching the harry potter movies from start to final. no excuses, you’ve already showered, did the laundry, and had dinner.” you smile and say, “hey, i was actually planning to say yes this time!!” jake rolls his eyes and says, “pftt— yeah right..”

SUNGHOON ──── lion king. it was his favorite movie to watch with you on nights when life was rough. so today, when he pullrd through the driveway, he knew he wanted to just sit in bed with you and watch it. you were in the kitchen, putting some plates in the dishwasher when the front door opened, revealing none other than your beloved boyfriend, sunghoon. “hey hoon, why the sad face?” you ask, washing your hands before drying them with a towel. “nothing, just practice.” he says in response, taking off his hat and jacket. you walk over to him and give him a warm hug? making him smile. in unison you two say, “wanna watch lion king?” shocked by the coincidence, you two pull away before laughing together. “great minds think alike i guess..” he murmurs, smiling softly as his lips meet yours. then, you two head upstairs, giggling like two idiots in love.

150225 — ukiyoriki

• taglist !! 🔖 @coqhee — @heeaara

[hsjazebel]

Meant to be

Summary: Y/N never expected a college party to change anything—until she met Harry. What starts as a quiet connection over books and movies slowly turns into something deeper, proving that some things are simply meant to be.

Wordcount: 32k+ (I have been carried away, sorry 😅)

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day! ♡ Here’s a little story about love finding you when you least expect it. Hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think!

Masterlist

— — —

The party was louder than she expected.

Y/N wasn’t sure why she had let Charlotte convince her to come. Maybe it was the way her roommate had pleaded, eyes wide with excitement, promising it would be “just for an hour.” Or maybe it was the fact that she had spent too many Friday nights curled up in bed while the rest of campus buzzed with energy.

She had thought, just for once, that maybe she should say yes.

But now, standing in the middle of the crowded living room, she regretted it.

The music thumped against the walls, the bass so deep she could feel it in her ribs. Laughter and voices blurred together in an endless hum, broken only by the occasional shout of someone calling out to a friend. The air was thick—too many people, too much perfume, too much heat.

She tugged at the hem of her sweater, suddenly self-conscious. She wasn’t dressed for this, not like the other girls in shimmering tops and short skirts. She had gone for comfort—jeans, a fitted top, her favorite oversized cardigan—but now she felt out of place, like she hadn’t read the unspoken dress code.

Charlotte had disappeared almost immediately, swallowed up by the crowd, probably off to find that guy she’d been texting. Y/N had tried to follow for a bit, but the sea of people made it impossible to keep up.

Now she was alone, pressed against the wall, holding a drink she hadn’t even sipped.

She exhaled, glancing toward the front door. Maybe she could just leave. Charlotte wouldn’t mind—she was too caught up in her own night.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an open door leading to the balcony.

Without thinking, she headed for it, slipping outside and closing the door behind her.

Cool air washed over her, a welcome contrast to the stifling heat inside. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and leaned against the railing, her fingers wrapping around the cold metal. The city stretched out in front of her, distant lights flickering against the night sky. From here, the noise of the party was muffled, just a dull hum beneath the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the silence settle over her.

And then—

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

The voice was smooth, warm. British.

Her eyes snapped open.

Turning slightly, she found herself face to face with someone she recognized immediately.

Harry Styles.

Her breath hitched, just for a second.

She had seen him around before, of course. It was hard not to notice him. He wasn’t the typical loud, overly confident guy that thrived in these kinds of settings, but he had a presence that made people gravitate toward him anyway. Maybe it was the way he carried himself—calm, collected, always with an air of quiet amusement, like he was in on some inside joke no one else knew about.

Now, standing in front of her in the dim balcony light, he looked impossibly at ease.

His dark curls were pushed back messily, a few strands falling over his forehead. A pair of thin-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, framing sharp green eyes that studied her with quiet interest. His loose button-up was unbuttoned at the top, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the intricate tattoos winding down his forearms.

He held a drink casually in one hand, the other tucked into his pocket, like he had all the time in the world.

She swallowed.

“I—uh—yeah,” she finally managed. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

His lips quirked, as if her answer didn’t surprise him at all. “Figured as much.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And how exactly did you figure that?”

He took a slow sip from his drink before answering. “Well, for one, you’ve been out here for at least five minutes and haven’t checked your phone once.” His eyes flickered toward the door. “And two… you look like you’re trying to disappear.”

She huffed out a quiet laugh. “That obvious?”

Harry smirked. “A little.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The city lights flickered in the distance, and the air between them felt charged—not uncomfortable, but something else entirely.

Then, he shifted slightly, turning more toward her.

“I’m Harry, by the way.”

She let out a small breath, amused. As if she didn’t already know.

“I know,” she admitted, then immediately winced. “I mean—everyone knows who you are.”

Harry chuckled, the sound low and warm. “That’s fair.” He tilted his head slightly. “And you are…?”

“Y/N.”

He repeated it, softer this time, like he was testing the way it felt on his tongue. Then, with a small smile, he extended his hand. “Well, Y/N, it’s nice to officially meet you.”

She hesitated for just a second before slipping her hand into his.

His palm was warm, his grip gentle but firm.

“Nice to meet you too, Harry.”

His fingers lingered a second longer than necessary before he let go.

He leaned his elbow against the railing, glancing at her thoughtfully. “So, if parties aren’t your thing… what would you rather be doing right now?”

She bit her lip, thinking. “Watching a movie, probably.”

Harry’s brows lifted slightly. “Anything in particular?”

She hesitated, then decided to be honest. “A romcom.”

His lips curled into a slow smile. “You like romcoms?”

She nodded. “I grew up watching them. Notting Hill, 10 Things I Hate About You, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days… I know they’re cheesy, but I love them.”

He studied her for a second, then let out a soft chuckle. “Cheesy doesn’t mean bad. Those are classics.”

She tilted her head. “Wait… you actually like them too?”

Harry smirked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Course I do. I mean, have you seen When Harry Met Sally? It’s got my name in it. That’s a sign, don’t you think?”

She laughed—really laughed, for the first time that night.

Harry watched her, his expression softer now, like he was pleased to be the reason behind it.

The conversation flowed easier after that. They debated over the best romcom of all time, exchanged favorite scenes, and argued about which movie had the most unrealistic yet satisfying ending. Somewhere in between, Y/N forgot about the party altogether.

But eventually, her phone buzzed in her pocket—Charlotte, probably looking for her.

She sighed, realizing she had to go.

Harry noticed. “Leaving already?”

“Yeah, I think so.” She hesitated, then, feeling unusually bold, added, “But… maybe next time, I’ll skip the party and just watch a romcom instead.”

His smile was slow, almost knowing. “Maybe next time, you won’t have to watch it alone.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

And as she stepped back inside, disappearing into the noise and the crowd, she couldn’t help but hope—just a little—that this was only the beginning.

———

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sound of Charlotte’s voice.

“Well, well, well,” her roommate drawled, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “Look who’s finally awake.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face into the pillow. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven,” Charlotte said, walking over and flopping down onto the bed beside her. “And you have some explaining to do.”

Y/N peeked at her through one eye. “Explaining?”

Charlotte grinned, far too awake for this early in the morning. “Don’t play innocent with me. You disappeared at the party. And when I finally found you again, you looked… different.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “So spill.”

Y/N sighed, rolling onto her back. “There’s nothing to spill.”

Charlotte gasped dramatically. “Lies! I saw you talking to Harry Styles.” She poked Y/N’s side. “You—quiet, book-loving, avoider of all social gatherings—somehow ended up alone on a balcony with the most intriguing guy on campus.”

Y/N felt her face heat up. “It wasn’t like that,” she muttered.

Charlotte smirked. “Then what was it like?”

Y/N hesitated. The truth was, she wasn’t exactly sure.

“It was… nice,” she admitted after a moment. “We just talked.”

Charlotte studied her, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Talked? That’s it?”

Y/N nodded.

Charlotte huffed, flopping back against the bed. “You’re impossible.”

Y/N smiled, sitting up and stretching. “Did you at least have fun?”

Charlotte let out a dreamy sigh. “Oh, absolutely. And I might have secured myself a coffee date with Mason.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Mason?”

“You know, Harry’s friend? Tall, kind of scruffy, ridiculously charming?” Charlotte waggled her fingers. “I think we have a connection.”

Y/N laughed softly. “I’m happy for you.”

Charlotte sat up again, her expression turning devious. “And speaking of coffee dates…”

Y/N’s stomach fluttered. “No.”

Charlotte pouted. “Come on! I think he likes you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We talked for, like, twenty minutes.”

Charlotte shrugged. “That’s plenty of time to make an impression. And if he really likes you, you’ll see him again.”

Y/N didn’t answer. Because the thought had already crossed her mind.

Would she see him again?

———

She did.

Three days later.

At the campus café.

Y/N had been curled up in a corner booth, a warm cup of tea beside her as she flipped through a book for class. The café was quiet, filled mostly with students studying or catching up on assignments. The hum of conversation and the occasional clinking of cups created the kind of atmosphere she loved—calm, steady, familiar.

And then, a shadow fell over her table.

“Y/N.”

She looked up.

And there he was.

Harry Styles, standing beside her table, a cup of coffee in one hand and a curious tilt to his head. He wasn’t wearing his glasses today, but she still recognized the quiet amusement in his eyes.

“Hi,” she said, feeling her heart pick up speed.

His lips twitched. “Mind if I sit?”

She hesitated for only a second before shaking her head. “Go ahead.”

Harry slid into the seat across from her, setting his coffee down. “Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Alright, I might have hoped I would.”

Her stomach did an embarrassing little flip.

“What are you reading?” he asked, nodding toward the book in her hands.

She glanced down, suddenly self-conscious. “Uh, Wuthering Heights.”

His brows lifted, impressed. “Intense choice.”

She shrugged. “It’s for class, but I like it.”

Harry studied her for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, stretching out comfortably. “So, tell me—are you one of those people who think Heathcliff is romantic, or do you see him for the walking red flag that he is?”

Y/N blinked in surprise. “You’ve read it?”

He smirked. “I have.”

She bit her lip, eyeing him. “And?”

Harry sighed dramatically. “Look, I get the passion, the whole ‘soulmate across time and space’ thing, but let’s be honest—if Heathcliff were around today, he’d be sending late-night ‘u up?’ texts and brooding over his ex’s Instagram posts.”

Y/N let out a surprised laugh. “That is… disturbingly accurate.”

Harry grinned. “And you? Are you a Heathcliff apologist?”

She shook her head. “I think he and Cathy deserved each other—because no one else should have to deal with that level of drama.”

Harry chuckled. “Harsh, but fair.”

There was something about the way he looked at her—curious, amused, like he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. It made her stomach twist in a way she wasn’t used to.

A beat of silence stretched between them.

Then—

“So,” Harry said, breaking the moment, “you never told me your verdict.”

Y/N frowned. “My verdict?”

“The best romcom of all time.”

She smiled, relieved by the lighter topic. “That’s impossible to answer.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Alright. Then let’s make it simpler. What’s your go-to comfort movie?”

She thought for a second. “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.”

His eyes lit up. “Classic.”

She nodded. “It’s just fun, you know? The whole fake dating thing, the ridiculousness of it all. And Kate Hudson? Iconic.”

Harry smirked. “And the ‘You let it die!’ scene? A cinematic masterpiece.”

Y/N laughed. “Exactly.”

Harry studied her for a moment, then said, “I like that.”

Y/N suddenly felt warm under his gaze. She looked down, tracing the rim of her cup. “What about you?”

Harry pretended to think. “Mmm… Notting Hill.”

She grinned. “Oh, come on. You just like it because of the ‘I’m just a girl’ scene.”

He laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe I like the idea that two people from completely different worlds can still find their way to each other.”

Something about the way he said it made her stomach flutter.

The conversation drifted after that—talk of books, movies, little things that made them both feel at home. The more they spoke, the more Y/N felt that strange, unexpected ease settle between them.

And when she finally glanced at the time, she realized an hour had passed without her even noticing.

“I should probably get to class,” she murmured, closing her book.

Harry nodded, but didn’t look particularly eager to leave.

As she stood, sliding her bag over her shoulder, he tapped his fingers against the table. “So…”

She looked at him expectantly.

He smirked. “Movie night?”

Her heart skipped. “Are you asking me out, Harry Styles?”

His expression was all mischief. “Maybe.”

She bit her lip, pretending to consider. Then, feeling unusually bold, she said, “Okay.”

Harry’s smirk turned into something softer.

“Good,” he said.

And as she walked away, she could feel his eyes on her the whole time.

———

The library was quieter than usual.

Y/N liked it that way. She liked the solitude, the way the world seemed to shrink down to just her and the words on the page. It was calming—predictable.

What she didn’t expect, however, was a voice breaking through the silence.

“Didn’t peg you as the type to hide away in a library for fun.”

She looked up, already knowing who she would see.

Harry stood in front of her table, a familiar smirk on his lips, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He had a notebook tucked under his arm and a coffee in hand, looking completely at ease despite the way his presence sent her heart racing.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “And yet, here you are.”

Harry hummed, sliding into the chair across from her. “Touché.”

She watched as he set his coffee down and flipped open his notebook, as if he belonged there—like this was routine.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Are you actually here to study, or are you just bothering me for fun?”

Harry grinned. “Can it be both?”

She huffed, biting back a smile as she returned her gaze to her book. But she could still feel his eyes on her.

A beat passed before he spoke again. “Wuthering Heights, huh? Still brooding over Heathcliff?”

Y/N sighed, looking up. “You do realize I read more than one book, right?”

Harry’s smirk widened. “Do you, now?”

She rolled her eyes and turned the book so he could see the title.

His gaze flickered over the cover before he raised an eyebrow. “White Nights?”

Y/N tilted her head. “Surprised?”

Harry leaned back in his chair, studying her. “A little. Didn’t take you for a Dostoevsky kind of girl.”

“And what kind of girl did you take me for?” she challenged.

He smirked. “Jane Austen, maybe. Brontë sisters, definitely. But Russian literature? That’s a surprise.”

She shrugged. “I like stories about lonely people.”

Something flickered in his expression, but it was gone too fast for her to catch.

“Lonely people,” he repeated. “And here I thought you just liked tragic love stories.”

Y/N hesitated, then said softly, “Aren’t they the same thing?”

Harry studied her for a moment, something unreadable in his gaze. Then, in a voice quieter than before, he said, “I guess they are.”

Silence settled between them again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like something had shifted—like she had let him see a part of her she didn’t show to just anyone.

Then, after a moment, Harry’s lips twitched up into a smile. “So, is White Nights a re-read, or am I catching you in the middle of a first-time experience?”

She exhaled, grateful for the change in tone. “Re-read.”

His grin widened. “Interesting. That means you must really like it.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Are you about to judge my taste in books?”

Harry smirked. “Not at all. I was actually going to say… maybe I should let you convince me to read it.”

Y/N studied him. “You’ve never read it?”

“Not yet,” he admitted.

A small smile played on her lips. “Maybe you should.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled. “Maybe I will.”

———

That night, her phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

Unknown [9:07 PM]: So, lonely people, huh? Convince me why I should read White Nights.

Y/N frowned, staring at the screen. Who the hell—?

Y/N [9:08 PM]: Who is this?

A pause. Then—

Unknown [9:08 PM]: Wow. That hurts.

Her heart skipped.

She squinted at the message, then at the number, but it wasn’t saved in her contacts.

Y/N [9:09 PM]: Seriously. Who is this??

A few seconds passed before a reply popped up.

Unknown [9:09 PM]: It’s Harry.

She blinked.

Then—

Y/N [9:10 PM]: …How did you get my number?

Harry [9:11 PM]: Your lovely roommate gave it to me.

Y/N groaned out loud. “Charlotte!”

Across the room, Charlotte barely glanced up from her laptop. “Hmm?”

Y/N waved her phone in the air. “Did you seriously give Harry my number?”

Charlotte smirked. “Oh. So he finally texted you?”

“Charlotte.”

“What?” she said innocently. “He asked, and I figured it would take you forever to do it yourself.”

Y/N let out a long, dramatic sigh, turning her attention back to the screen.

Y/N [9:12 PM]: I hate you.

Harry [9:12 PM]: No, you don’t.

She rolled her eyes.

Y/N [9:13 PM]: Maybe you should read it and see for yourself.

Harry [9:14 PM]: Bold of you to assume I have time for Russian literature.

Y/N [9:15 PM]: Bold of you to assume I’d let you borrow my copy.

Harry [9:16 PM]: So possessive. I like it.

Y/N [9:17 PM]: You’re impossible.

Harry [9:17 PM]: And yet, here you are, still texting me.

She bit her lip, trying not to smile.

Harry [9:18 PM]: You still good for our not-date movie night?

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

Y/N [9:19 PM]: You mean the highly academic film screening of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days?

Harry [9:20 PM]: Exactly. For research purposes.

She hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen.

Y/N [9:21 PM]: Yeah. I’m still in.

His reply came almost instantly.

Harry [9:21 PM]: Good.

She stared at the word for a long time, ignoring the way her face felt impossibly warm.

———

“You’ve checked your phone three times in the last minute.”

Y/N shot Charlotte a glare from across the room. “I have not.”

Charlotte smirked, finishing the last touches of her makeup. “You so have.”

Y/N huffed, locking her phone and tossing it onto the bed like that would somehow make her friend drop the topic. “I’m just checking the time.”

“Mm-hmm.” Charlotte turned, arms crossed. “Because, of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that Harry is coming over.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her face felt warm. “It’s just a movie night.”

Charlotte grinned. “And yet, you’ve changed your sweater twice.”

Y/N groaned, flopping back onto her pillows. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Charlotte grabbed her bag, checking her reflection in the mirror. “I think it’s cute that you’re all flustered over him.”

“I’m not flustered.”

Charlotte raised a brow. “You are so flustered.”

Y/N groaned again, covering her face with a pillow.

A knock at the door made her sit up way too fast.

Charlotte smirked knowingly. “That’s my cue.”

Y/N watched as Charlotte opened the door, revealing Harry—standing there in his usual effortless way, glasses on, a bag of snacks in one hand.

“Oh, hey, Harry,” Charlotte greeted with a grin, throwing Y/N one last look. “I was just leaving.”

Harry glanced between them, looking mildly amused. “Leaving?”

“Yep.” Charlotte winked at Y/N. “Have fun.”

And before Y/N could even form a reply, she was gone.

Harry stepped inside, brow raised. “Did I just interrupt something?”

Y/N exhaled, shaking her head. “No. She’s just being Charlotte.”

Harry chuckled, setting the snacks down. “That explains a lot.”

Settling onto the couch, Y/N pressed play on 27 Dresses, tucking her legs under her.

Harry sat beside her, stretching his arm along the back of the couch. The space between them was small—too small—and she tried not to focus on the way his knee almost brushed hers.

“Have you seen this before?” he asked.

She scoffed. “Please. At least twenty times.”

Harry smiled. “Figures.”

For the first half hour, they made occasional comments about the movie—Harry teasing her about knowing all the lines, Y/N defending why it was a romcom classic.

But eventually, the room grew quieter. The soft glow of the screen cast shadows across Harry’s face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the way his glasses slid down his nose.

And Y/N—despite her best efforts to stay focused on the film—felt her eyelids growing heavy.

She shifted slightly, trying to stay awake, but the warmth of the room, the steady sound of the dialogue, and the presence of Harry right beside her made it impossible.

At some point, she leaned just a little too far to the side—

And before she could stop herself, her head landed gently on his shoulder.

For a second, she almost panicked.

But Harry didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.

If anything, he relaxed.

She felt him shift slightly, adjusting so that she fit more comfortably against him.

And just like that, sleep took over.

———

The next morning, the first thing Y/N registered was warmth.

A slow, steady warmth surrounding her, lulling her in a sleepy haze.

Then, she felt movement.

Her eyes fluttered open, and it took her a moment to realize:

She was curled into Harry’s side, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders.

The snack bag was on the floor. The TV screen had long since gone black. The early morning light was filtering through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room.

And Harry—

Was still asleep.

His head rested against the back of the couch, lips slightly parted, curls falling across his forehead. His glasses were slightly askew, one arm still tucked around her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Y/N barely breathed.

She should move. Should sit up, stretch, do anything to break the moment before he woke up.

But before she could, she felt him shift.

A slow inhale. A stretch.

And then, with a small frown, Harry’s eyes blinked open.

For a second, he looked confused. Disoriented.

Then, his gaze landed on her.

They both froze.

Silence.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

And then—

Harry’s lips twitched, still laced with sleep. “Morning.”

Y/N swallowed. “Morning.”

Another pause.

Then, realization dawned in Harry’s sleepy eyes. He glanced down at their position—her body still tucked into his side, his arm still loosely wrapped around her.

And yet—he didn’t move away.

Instead, his mouth curved into something softer.

“Didn’t mean to steal your couch,” he murmured.

Y/N huffed out a quiet laugh. “Didn’t mean to steal your shoulder.”

Harry smiled.

And for a moment, they just… sat there.

Close. Warm. Unmoving.

Y/N was still sitting on the couch, trying to process the fact that she’d just spent the night curled up against Harry Styles, when she heard him stretch beside her.

She glanced over. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, one hand running through his curls, the other adjusting his glasses.

And he looked… way too good for someone who had just woken up.

Before she could stop herself, she spoke.

“Do you—” She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual. “Do you want some coffee?”

Harry turned to her, blinking.

Then, the corner of his mouth lifted.

“Are you offering me coffee, Y/N?”

She rolled her eyes, standing up. “I regret it already.”

Harry chuckled, pushing himself up from the couch. “Too late.”

———

They ended up in the small dorm kitchen, Y/N fumbling with the coffee machine while Harry leaned against the counter, watching her with amusement.

“I didn’t peg you as the type to function without caffeine,” he said.

She scoffed. “Who says I function at all?”

Harry smirked. “Fair point.”

Once the coffee was ready, she handed him a mug, grabbing one for herself before hopping up onto the counter.

Harry took a slow sip, humming in approval. “Not bad.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Not bad?”

“Yeah.” He nudged her knee playfully. “Could be better.”

She gasped in mock offense. “You are such a snob.”

Harry grinned. “I have high standards.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling.

They fell into comfortable conversation, talking about everything from classes to 27 Dresses to how Harry apparently had a very strong opinion about the correct way to make tea.

And Y/N—despite the fact that she had woken up to a situation that should have been extremely awkward—found herself relaxing.

That was, of course, until Charlotte walked in.

She stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight before her—Harry standing in the kitchen, hair still tousled from sleep, drinking coffee from their mugs.

Y/N sitting on the counter, wearing the same clothes from last night.

Charlotte’s eyes widened.

Then, a slow smirk spread across her face.

“Oh,” she said, drawing out the word. “Good morning.”

Y/N groaned. “Charlotte—”

Charlotte ignored her, turning to Harry with an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Wow, Harry. You’re still here?”

Harry, to Y/N’s horror, grinned.

“Apparently, I make decent company, and your couch is not too bad” he said, sipping his coffee.

Charlotte gasped dramatically. “Did Y/N let you sleep on the couch? That is so rude.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Charlotte.”

Charlotte pressed a hand to her heart. “I mean, I was gone all night, you totally could’ve used my bed—”

Y/N almost choked on her coffee. “Oh my God, stop.”

Charlotte just smirked, eyes dancing between them. “I’m just saying…”

Y/N glared. “You’re the worst.”

Harry chuckled, setting down his mug. “I should probably get going before Mason starts wondering where I am.”

He turned to Y/N then, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he murmured.

She swallowed. “Yeah. Anytime.”

Charlotte wiggled her eyebrows.

Y/N shot her a warning look.

Harry—completely amused—grabbed his bag and made his way to the door.

“See you later, Y/N.”

And with that, he was gone.

Y/N barely had time to let out a breath before Charlotte pounced.

“So.”

Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Don’t.”

Charlotte ignored her, flopping onto the couch with a wicked grin. “You slept together.”

“Oh my God—”

“Not like that,” Charlotte amended. “But still. You slept together.”

Y/N groaned. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

Charlotte scoffed. “Oh, honey. It so was.”

———

Y/N had spent the entire morning convincing herself that nothing had changed.

That waking up next to Harry hadn’t felt different.

That the way he had smiled at her over coffee hadn’t made her stomach flip.

That she wasn’t replaying every second of their time together like some lovesick idiot.

But she was failing—miserably.

And Charlotte wasn’t helping.

“So,” her roommate drawled, flipping through a magazine on her bed, “are we just gonna pretend that last night never happened?”

Y/N, sitting at her desk, sighed. “Nothing happened.”

Charlotte scoffed. “You cuddled on the couch, made him coffee in the morning, and practically gazed at each other the whole time. That’s something.”

Y/N turned to glare at her. “I wasn’t gazing.”

Charlotte smirked. “Oh, honey. You were gazing.”

Y/N groaned, dropping her head onto her desk.

Charlotte laughed, tossing the magazine aside. “Look, all I’m saying is—he’s different, isn’t he?”

Y/N frowned. “What do you mean?”

Charlotte shrugged. “I mean, I’ve never seen you act like this over a guy. You usually keep your distance, but with Harry… I don’t know. You let him in.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest—but nothing came out.

Because, as much as she hated to admit it, Charlotte wasn’t wrong.

Harry was different.

And that was what scared her the most.

———

That afternoon, she tried to focus on studying.

Tried being the keyword.

She was in the library, sitting at her usual spot by the window, but the words on the page blurred together.

Her phone buzzed.

She glanced at it, already knowing who it was.

Harry [3:27 PM]: You’re not skipping the library today, are you?

Y/N [3:28 PM]: I’m literally here right now.

Harry [3:29 PM]: Good. Would’ve had to question your commitment to academia otherwise.

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips.

A minute later, she heard a chair scrape against the floor.

She looked up.

Harry slid into the seat across from her, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Hi,” he said, smiling.

Y/N tried to ignore the way her heartbeat definitely sped up. “Hi.”

He set down his bag and pulled out a book. “What are we studying today?”

Y/N sighed. “I’m trying to get through this reading, but it’s not working.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Do you want me to quiz you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You just got here.”

He smirked. “And?”

She shook her head, amused. “Fine.”

And so, they studied. Or at least, they tried.

Every time Harry read a passage aloud, he did it with exaggerated dramatics, making Y/N laugh.

Whenever she got an answer right, he’d tap his fingers against the table like a drumroll.

At some point, he reached for her book, fingers grazing hers—and neither of them pulled away.

The touch was brief, but her skin tingled where it had been.

Harry didn’t say anything, but his gaze flickered to hers, something unspoken lingering between them.

For the first time, Y/N felt like she was on the edge of something.

And she didn’t know whether to step forward—or run.

———

An hour later, Y/N packed up her things.

“I should go,” she murmured.

Harry nodded, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. “Alright.”

She hesitated before speaking. “Thanks for—y’know. Keeping me sane.”

Harry’s lips quirked. “Anytime.”

As she turned to leave, he called after her

“Oh, Y/N?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

Harry reached into his bag, pulling out a book.

She frowned as he held it out to her.

“The Symposium?” she read aloud, eyebrows raised.

Harry smirked. “Figured you might like it.”

She stared at him. “Harry, this is your copy.”

He shrugged. “So?”

“So, I know you annotate all your books.” She flipped through the pages, confirming her suspicions—his familiar, neat handwriting filled the margins. “I can’t take this.”

“You can,” he said simply. “And you will.”

She glanced up at him, confused. “But… why?”

Harry held her gaze for a moment, then leaned in slightly.

“Because I think you’ll understand it,” he murmured.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Because there was weight behind his words—something deeper than just a casual book recommendation.

She swallowed, gripping the book a little tighter.

“…Thank you,” she said softly.

Harry smiled. “See you later, Y/N.”

And as she walked away, The Symposium pressed against her chest, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

That, maybe, she had just crossed a line she could never go back from.

———

The night wrapped around them like a quiet secret. The streets were nearly empty, the world softened by the golden glow of streetlamps.

Y/N and Harry walked side by side, their steps unhurried, as if neither of them wanted the night to end just yet.

She wasn’t sure how they ended up here—how a simple goodnight after studying turned into do you want to take a walk? But she didn’t regret saying yes.

It had been a week since that night at her apartment, since they’d woken up together on the couch, and things between them had shifted. Not in an obvious way—there were no declarations, no grand confessions—but something had changed.

Harry had always looked at her like he was intrigued. But now?

Now, he looked at her like he knew. Like he was just waiting for her to admit it, too.

“You’re quiet,” Harry murmured beside her.

She glanced at him. “So are you.”

He smiled, a little crooked. “Guess I don’t always have something to say.”

“Impossible.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Harsh.”

They walked a little further before she spoke again, a quiet admission in the stillness of the night.

“I read your notes.”

Harry turned his head slightly. “My notes?”

“In The Symposium.”

Realization flickered in his expression. “Right.”

She hesitated. “There was one part that stuck with me.”

His gaze softened. “Which one?”

Y/N swallowed.

“The part where you wrote that love is about recognizing something familiar in someone else.”

Harry didn’t speak right away.

Then, quietly, he said, “That’s my favorite part.”

Y/N stopped walking.

So did he.

The silence between them stretched, heavy with something.

She could feel her pulse thrumming in her wrists, in her throat, in the space between them that was growing smaller by the second.

Harry took a step closer. Slowly. Like he was giving her time to stop him.

She didn’t.

His gaze flickered to her lips, just for a second, before meeting her eyes again.

His voice was softer when he spoke next. “You realize I like you, don’t you?”

Y/N felt something tighten in her chest.

Because, of course, she did.

But hearing it—feeling it—was different.

She exhaled, barely a whisper. “I think I do now.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good.”

He didn’t move right away.

He just looked at her, taking her in, like he was memorizing the moment.

Then, so softly it was almost imperceptible, his fingers brushed against hers.

Y/N inhaled sharply.

And that was all it took.

Before she could second-guess it, before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them.

She barely had time to process the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his breath, before his hand came up, fingers grazing her jaw as he leaned in—slow, careful, waiting.

And then—

Then, he kissed her.

It was soft at first. Just a whisper of a touch, a silent question against her lips.

But the moment she kissed him back, the moment her fingers curled into the fabric of his sweater, it changed.

It deepened.

Harry let out a quiet sound—like he had been waiting for this longer than he cared to admit—and then his hands were on her waist, pulling her closer, closer, like the space between them was unbearable.

Her heart was racing.

She could feel the warmth of his palms, the faint scrape of his stubble against her skin, the way he kissed her like he was learning her—like he wanted to know exactly how she fit against him.

And she let him.

By the time they pulled apart, her head was spinning, her breath uneven.

Harry’s forehead rested against hers, and he let out a quiet laugh.

“What?” she asked, still breathless.

He shook his head, smiling. “Nothing. Just… glad I finally did that.”

She bit her lip, trying—and failing—not to smile.

“Me too.”

Harry’s thumb brushed against her waist absentmindedly.

“Can I walk you home?” he asked.

Y/N nodded.

But neither of them moved.

Not right away.

And when they finally started walking again, Harry’s fingers found hers, intertwining them effortlessly—like they had been waiting to do that, too.

———

It had only been a couple of weeks since that night—their first kiss under the dim glow of the streetlights—but things between them had changed so much.

Not in an overwhelming way. Not in a way that made Y/N feel rushed or pressured.

But in a way that made her soften.

In a way that made it impossible to ignore how utterly smitten Harry was.

It was in the way he always found a reason to touch her, even in the smallest ways—fingertips brushing against hers when they walked, absentmindedly tucking her hair behind her ear when she was focused on something, resting his chin on her shoulder just because he could.

It was in the way he remembered things, like how she liked her coffee and how she hated the sound of loud chewing. In the way he always waited for her outside class even when they had different schedules. In the way he looked at her, like he was always choosing to.

Like he couldn’t believe she was real.

Today was no different.

Y/N sat curled up on the library couch, actually trying to get some work done, while Harry sat beside her, flipping through a book he had absolutely no interest in.

At least, that’s what she assumed—because instead of reading, he was staring at her.

She sighed, setting her pen down. “Harry.”

“Hm?” He looked unbothered, too comfortable as he rested his head against the back of the couch.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

She shot him a pointed look.

He smirked, unfazed. “Looking at my girlfriend?”

Her stomach flipped.

Even after two weeks, the word still did something to her.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were warm, and Harry knew it.

With a quiet chuckle, he reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers, absentmindedly running his thumb across the back of her palm.

“Should I be studying?” he murmured, lips twitching.

She nodded. “Yes.”

Harry pretended to consider it. Then, with zero hesitation, he squeezed her hand and dragged it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles.

“Too bad,” he murmured against her skin.

Y/N’s breath hitched.

This boy.

She was so doomed.

———

Y/N had tried to keep things subtle.

Not because she wanted to hide it, but because Charlotte was the biggest menace when it came to teasing her, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that just yet.

Too bad Charlotte noticed everything.

Like the way Y/N smiled at her phone when she thought no one was looking. The way she suspiciously left the dorm at night with an “I’ll be back later.” The way she got flustered when Harry’s name came up in conversation.

She had her suspicions, but she didn’t have proof.

Until now.

Because today, as Charlotte was walking toward the dorm, she saw them.

Saw Harry pressing a lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead. Saw the way she leaned into him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And that was all she needed.

“I KNEW IT!”

Y/N jumped, turning to find Charlotte standing a few feet away with the biggest, most victorious grin on her face.

“Oh my God,” Y/N muttered.

Harry—who clearly wasn’t fazed at all—simply raised an eyebrow. “Did you, though?”

Charlotte turned to him, still grinning. “YES. I just didn’t have evidence.” She turned back to Y/N, wiggling her eyebrows. “But now I do.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Charlotte sing-songed.

Harry chuckled, amused, before leaning down and whispering into Y/N’s ear, “I’ll leave you to it, sweetheart.”

She sighed dramatically. “Coward.”

He smirked, kissed the side of her head one last time, and walked away, leaving her to deal with Charlotte’s relentless interrogation.

Y/N was so in trouble.

———

After an hour of being mercilessly teased, Y/N flopped onto her bed, groaning in frustration.

Charlotte smirked from across the room. “Oh, come on, you love me.”

“Debatable,” Y/N muttered, reaching for her phone.

She scrolled through her messages before typing.

Y/N [10:08 PM]: I officially hate you.

Harry [10:09 PM]: That’s unfortunate.

Y/N [10:09 PM]: Charlotte won’t stop teasing me. This is your fault.

Harry [10:10 PM]: Guess I’ll just have to make it up to you, won’t I?

Y/N froze, rereading the message at least three times.

Before she could even think of a response, there was a quiet knock on the door.

Charlotte and Y/N shared a look.

Y/N opened it—and there he was.

Harry stood there, a lazy smirk on his lips, holding a small pastry in a white paper bag.

“Hey,” he murmured.

Y/N blinked.

Charlotte—who was watching the whole thing unfold—snorted. “Oh, my God. You are so whipped.”

Harry didn’t even deny it.

He just shrugged, handed Y/N the bag, and kissed her temple like it was the most normal thing in the world.

When she looked inside, she found her favorite pastry, the one from the café across campus.

She looked back up at him, eyes soft. “You went all the way to—“

Harry simply shrugged. “Felt like it”

Y/N pressed her lips together, trying not to melt right then and there.

Charlotte, however, had no such restraint. “You two are disgusting”, she muttered, rolling her eyes before dramatically throwing a pillow over her head.

Harry chuckled, then leaned down and whispered against Y/N’s skin, “Worth it.”

And just like that, Y/N knew—

She was so, so screwed.

[wizard-of-interesting-failure]

"I was planning to test all the possible divergence points rigorously and in order, but I'm sick of playing this out the same way. Let's just do this one now."

"I- what? No you haven't, nothing else has been changing."

"Not for you, maybe- wait. How do you know I'm in a time loop?"

"You're in a time loop?"

"YOU'RE in a time loop?"

The space between you begins to crackle. Her face seems to fuzz into static white noise, as does the scenery behind her. You think you can see her mouth move, but no sound reaches your ears. Your senses are overtaken, and you black out.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

"You're in a time loop!"

"...what on Earth are you talking about?"

So much for that, you suppose.

---TOO MANY LOOPS LATER---

Your routine has changed from asking her out again to yelling that at her and leaving. It's a crowded park, so you get a few funny looks, but your sense of embarrassment has long since evaporated.

"How the hell did you know that??"

Your heart skips a beat. She stands there looking confused. It takes you a moment to realise it wasn't her that spoke; a stranger, someone you've never bothered paying any attention to, runs up to the two of you with a look of incredulity on her face.

The space between you begins to crackle. Her face seems to fuzz into static white noise, as does the scenery behind her. This time, you run.

It doesn't help.

---TOO MANY LOOPS LATER, AGAIN---

Paranoia has consumed you. You obsessively chart every movement of every person in the city you can, looking for the slightest deviations.

Finally, you find one. An old lady is running late for her doctor's appointment.

You tail her for the rest of the day. Almost no other changes occur. She still gets home and realises she's forgotten her keys, albeit slightly later. She spends slightly less time reading hunky magazines. She has dinner at the same time, goes to bed at the same time.

You never find out whether she doesn't realise she's in a time loop or her delay was caused by something else you missed.

---TOO MANY LOOPS LATER, YET AGAIN---

There's a car crash on the morning news.

There's never a car crash on the morning news.

The driver of the car died instantly on impact. The driver of the truck he swerved into head-on is baffled and traumatised. The whole day is a wash; everything changes, and you're pretty sure you know who the other looper was. Not much you can do about it now.

You sneak into the morgue anyway.

The man's body is in bad shape, but otherwise normal. What else did you expect? Yours doesn't hold changes either; only memories remain.

A thought strikes you. You grab a handsaw from a nearby table.

There's something in his brain.

You don't get a good look. The space between you begins to crackle. You swing your arm through it in frustration. Nothing happens. Another thought strikes you. You dunk your head into the still-forming static and black out.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

The hospital turns you away at the door. You start researching how to fake a cerebral hemorrhage.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

The ambulance quickly determines that you are not unconscious and show no current symptoms. You are held for observation and scheduled for further testing tomorrow.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You start researching how to fake a concussion.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You are not a good actor. You start researching how to safely give yourself a concussion.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

Ow. You start taking acting classes.

---TOO MANY LOOPS LATER; YOU WERE A REALLY BAD ACTOR---

They turn on the MRI machine. A searing pain pierces your skull and you black out.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You tell them you have a pacemaker this time.

A doctor shows you the CT scan results. You're ready this time, just in case, so you make out something large and octahedral before the static takes you.

The doctor doesn't seem to notice.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You ask not to see the scan yourself. The doctor describes it to you. She says there's a foreign object in your skull, but no sign of how it could have gotten there. She sounds baffled.

You ask what it looks like. She says she can't tell much, but it looks large and octahedral.

A beat passes. She asks if you're okay. She sounds sympathetic underneath the confusion.

You grab the scan and stare at it out of sheer spite.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You spend the whole loop in bed with a splitting headache.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You spend the whole loop at home with a slightly less splitting headache.

---TEN LOOPS LATER---

You ask if it would be possible to have it removed. They say no; your brain tissue has grown around it and removal would be lethal. You ask if it would be possible to just open you up and take a look at it. They look suitably appalled.

They keep you for observation overnight, for lack of anything else to do. You show no symptoms; why would you? They're still scratching their heads when you black out for the night.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You start looking for doctors who are less scrupulous.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You wake up in a back alley with all your possessions missing. You start looking for doctors in a scrupulousness sweet spot.

---FOUR LOOPS LATER---

You've finally found someone who won't ask too many questions when presented with enough cash. They tell you they can get a procedure room booked under false pretences no earlier than tomorrow. You start casing the hospital.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

Digging through the hospital's logs late at night, you find that someone was brought in mid-morning with a piece of rebar through their leg.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You track them down and set their house on fire at 6AM. The doctor says they can get a procedure room booked under false pretences no earlier than tomorrow. Digging through the hospital's logs late at night, you find that someone was brought in mid-morning with third-degree burns and smoke inhalation. You're not sure why you thought this was a good idea.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You leave a package full of money on their doorstep with a note promising more if they stay home today. The doctor says they can get a procedure room booked under false pretences no earlier than tomorrow. Digging through the hospital's logs late at night, you find that a kidney transplant was performed in the procedure room instead.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

Digging through the hospital's logs late at night, you find that a kidney transplant was delayed due to a lack of facilities. You find that seven other surgeries were also delayed or transferred to hospitals in other cities due to a lack of facilities. You find that no less than ten people were brought in mid-morning with various construction-related injuries.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You follow Rebar Guy to his place of work. It is an absolute mockery of safety standards. You watch as a crane malfunctions and collapses onto the half-constructed building. You finally dimly recall seeing a whole fleet of ambulances on one of your further-ranging walks, before you settled into a routine to give yourself something to cling to.

You sneak in amidst the chaos in an attempt to inspect the crane. It is buried and you cannot reach it.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You set the construction site on fire at 6AM. The doctor says they can get a procedure room booked under false pretences today. You knew this was a good idea.

Laying on the operating table with your skull cut open, the doctor describes the object. It is large and octahedral. You restrain yourself from commenting. It is metallic and smooth with no signs of joinery or any indication of assemblage. It is featureless save for one thing: A minutely raised circular portion just on the border where the object disappears into your brain tissue. He says it looks like a button.

You don't ask him to press it.

---TOO MANY LOOPS LATER---

You hear a voice yelling, "You're in a time loop!". You discreetly track down the source. It's not someone you recognise. You follow them around all day. They keep yelling, but nobody responds. You wonder how many times you were in their place.

---TOO MANY LOOPS LATER---

You consider asking the doctor to mark it with a scalpel or something, just to see if it carries over.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

It does.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You realise this doesn't help you in any way.

---WAY, WAY TOO MANY LOOPS LATER---

You ask him to press the button.

---ONE LOOP LATER---

You actively check the date for what seems like the first time in forever.

It's the same.

Your house feels claustrophobic all of a sudden. You don't know what to do next. You could get him to press it again, like that would do anything? You could get him to remove it, like that wouldn't just kill you, maybe permanently? It's too much. It's not going to work. It's never going to work. You don't realise how high the tower of your hope was until it collapses underneath you and you feel like you'll never stop falling.

You run outside and scream.

Heads turn towards you.

Inexplicably, they start clapping and cheering.

A man steps forward and offers a handshake. "Welcome to the loop, man!" he says.

You shake his hand dumbly.

He explains what they think they know so far. Everyone is supposed to be in the same loop, but most of the devices aren't behaving properly. Or the synchronisation is an off by default feature and the random overlaps are the bug. Or something about tachyon fluctuations. You ask what points to any of these ideas. He says it's baseless speculation; he doesn't even know what a tachyon is, he just heard about them on Doctor Who once. He grins infectiously, like this is a joke he's told a thousand times and he still thinks it's the funniest thing in the world. Maybe he has. Maybe it is. You grin back.

You accept some offered snacks and hot chocolate, and a pin with "JUST AWAKENED" on it in large font; it'll let people know to give you space if you don't approach them and help if you do, apparently. It seems like there's a whole system to optimally rearrange everything in the opening hours of the day, but when you ask about it you're waved off; worry about that later, you get a week to acclimate yourself before you start being asked to get involved in logistics, they say.

You ask after the woman who kicked off your..."awakening!", someone helpfully chimes in. Awakening. Alright, that. Several people recognise the name; one offers to go get her. You say to ask her to meet you in the park in an hour. They say sure. You start walking.

You see "awakened" people doing all sorts of things, but what catches your ear is a conversation with someone who is very confused. Not everyone is awake yet, you guess. It sounds like every "unawakened" person has a looper assigned to explain the situation to them every morning, although sometimes one person handles a whole group. Maybe they tweak the process over time to try and make it more efficient?

You shake your head; not time for logistics yet. Though you can't help but wonder who was assigned to you, and how many times they had to give you the talk. Would it be awkward if you met? Would it be impolite to seek them out? Have they- it hits you that it was probably the guy who stepped up to talk to you. He might know you better than you know yourself. He probably tuned that tachyon bit until you found it comforting. It really might be the funniest thing in the world to you, at least at this moment.

You suppress a shudder. It's hardly fair to feel weirded out, you think, then you think you've probably thought that before, here, pre-awakening, and you suppress another shudder. At least he gave you space to think about it all. It'll be better tomorrow, when you remember him, too.

You reach the park.

She's already there; she's wearing a different outfit than you remember. She's probably been awakened for much longer than you; she did seem to have her head on pretty straight about tackling the whole thing.

Silence descends. You stare at each other. You imagine she's not entirely sure why you called her out here. You're not either, until suddenly you are.

You ask her out.

She turns you down.

You try to give your usual response, but both of you collapse into gales of laughter before you can.

It's like a spell breaking. Fighting down chuckle aftershocks, you talk a little about your respective experiences. She hasn't been here that much longer; only a few months. Those are just thirty-loop periods now, with the actual calendar unchanging as it is. They keep time by memory consensus and post it up every day; it's probably correct, although the possibility of errors creeping in can't be completely discounted.

You both stuck to the rejection script, but for different reasons; you out of habit, her in an effort to control for confounding variables. It's weird, thinking about the same things happening so many times for completely different reasons. You wonder aloud about all the versions of you from her loop, this loop, and all the other ones. Are they dead? Did they ever exist?

She stops you and tells you to go take Existential Processing 101 during your first week before getting into this; with so much time and interest in speculation on their shared experiences, there is an extremely extensive canon of ideas and established reasoning to go through in order to catch up. Oh, and don't forget to check the loop calendar for the current date; that's your Loopday, and if you don't remember it then it's unlikely anyone else will. People usually regret forgetting, especially anyone whose regular birthday was lopped off by calendar standardisation.

January 31st. Ah. You'd better make a note of it, then.

Conversation gradually peters out. You get the sense she's still in a curious explorative phase of her own adaptation, and the conversation with you was a welcome novelty and diversion but she'd like to get back to her life now, please. You excuse yourself with a smile and a wave that she returns; you'll probably chat again another time, but it's pretty clearly not going anywhere romantic. God, how does that even work now with the infinite time horizon and lack of aging? Somehow, you suppose; if you weren't convinced that humans could adapt to anything during your solo looping, you certainly are now.

You spend the rest of the day wandering. It's a weird mix of the environment you've been in forever, things that you'd guess have to be put up every day, and things that you reckon were probably placed on a whim with the knowledge that they'd be gone tomorrow. It's not always easy to tell the difference between those last two.

You wonder about other cities, other countries, and the world. You wonder what they're all doing with all this time. You wonder what you want to do with it. Maybe they have a program for getting people up into space for a day? It probably has a long waiting list, if it exists. If it doesn't, it sounds like a good idea to you. But it's not time to worry about logistics yet.

You wonder what the thing in your brain is. You wonder if people know it can be marked; you think they probably do. You guess it's being used to store data that's important enough to go to all that trouble for. It's not time to worry about logistics yet.

You're assuming interacting with it doesn't crash the loop any more; you've been talking to people about it all day, after all. You wonder why that mechanism existed and how it worked in the first place; probably a safety of some kind and probably based on the thing detecting itself or knowing about another one of it, you reckon. It didn't trigger when you heard it described, after all, or when you only suspected other people. You guess it had a fairly rigorous proof threshold. As for why, who knows? Maybe your brain would have turned to soup otherwise. Maybe it would have made awakening too easy. Maybe it would have let you acquire ultimate mastery over time and dethrone the gods. There's probably been a lot of speculation already.

You wonder whether they've tried removing the device from anyone. You hope not, but you suspect it's probably happened somewhere. You're not going to ask about that until much later, you think.

Your wanderings bring you home around sunset, strawberry crepe in hand from a dessert stall you passed along the way. True to their word, the "JUST AWAKENED" button worked as advertised; seems like everyone's been where you are right now and it engenders a lot of sympathy. You wonder who makes them every day and how. It's not time to worry about logistics yet.

You follow your old time loop routine in the evening. It's comforting and familiar where it used to be a piece of too-small driftwood in an endless flat sea. It contrasts nicely with the massive influx of novelty that the rest of the day represented; you scarfed that down desperately as your hunger for it made itself known, but you can't feed a starving woman anything too rich or plentiful or else they'll get sick. You realise that's why the newbie pin was so important.

At exactly the right time, you begin to tire. You make your way to your bedroom, lay down exactly as you have for countless years now, and sleep.

---SEVEN LOOPS LATER---

You begin to live.

Being stuck in a time loop for so long, you remember it clearly. And the loop was on the day she rejected you too. You didn’t have to, as it will loop back anyway, but you responded as you always did. You can already hear her rejection in your mind. “Ah it’s okay I-” “Sure why not.”

[billionairebratenergy]

Forever Sounds Good

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes had been called a lot of things in his lifetime—soldier, assassin, hero—but when you called him your husband, everything else ceased to exist.

───────────────────────────────

The compound was quieter than usual, save for the occasional hum of voices from the common area. You and Bucky had settled onto the couch, your legs draped over his lap as you scrolled through your phone, the warm glow of the TV casting soft shadows across the room. His vibranium fingers traced absentminded patterns along your calf, a subconscious habit whenever he was near you.

It was peaceful. Domestic, even.

And then Sam walked in.

"Hey, lovebirds. You two gonna join the rest of us for movie night, or are you too busy being disgustingly in love over here?"

You smirked, not looking up. "Bucky, what do you think?"

Bucky, who had been perfectly content in his own little world, blinked up at Sam like he hadn't heard a single word you just said.

You tilted your head, waiting for him to answer. When he didn’t, you sighed dramatically and turned to Sam. "Guess my husband and I will have to think about it."

Bucky stiffened beneath you.

The silence stretched, and you glanced back at him, only to find him staring at you. Wide-eyed. Lips parted slightly.

He wasn’t breathing.

"Buck?" you prompted.

Still nothing.

Sam, who had been in the middle of making some smart-ass remark, paused and squinted at Bucky. "You good, man?"

Bucky swallowed thickly, jaw tightening, but the color in his face betrayed him. His ears were turning pink.

And then—he grinned.

Not his usual smirk. Not the teasing, cocky one he gave Sam when they were bickering. Not the polite one he sometimes gave strangers out of courtesy. No—this was something different. Something real.

It was soft. Shy, almost.

Like you’d just given him something precious and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

"Yeah," he said finally, voice rough, but there was a warmth in his eyes that made your stomach flip. "Yeah, I’m good."

Sam narrowed his eyes, looking between the two of you like he was missing something. But when Bucky made no move to elaborate, he just scoffed. "Weirdo."

As soon as Sam was gone, you turned back to Bucky.

"What was that?" you asked, amused.

Bucky shifted beneath you, avoiding your gaze. "What was what?"

"Oh, I don't know. You looking like I just told you I was carrying your child or something."

He huffed out a breath, shaking his head, but that small, secret smile never left his face.

"Just wasn’t expecting it, is all," he murmured, almost to himself.

"Expecting what?"

His thumb brushed over your knee absentmindedly. "You calling me that."

Husband.

You bit your lip. "Did you not like it?"

His head snapped up. "No—God, no. I—I mean, it just caught me off guard."

You watched him for a moment, the way he fidgeted slightly, the way his grip on your leg tightened just a fraction.

"You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?" you teased.

"Absolutely."

The way he admitted it so easily made your heart swell.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. "Should I say it more often?"

His breath hitched.

He closed his eyes for a brief second, then exhaled, a little shaky. "You tryna kill me, doll?"

You grinned. "Not at all, husband."

His ears were definitely red now.

"Jesus," he muttered under his breath, but there was a kind of wonder in his expression that made you soften.

"Bucky Barnes," you whispered, brushing your nose against his. "Are you telling me you like the idea?"

His fingers curled around your wrist, holding you there.

"Wouldn’t mind it," he admitted.

It was quiet for a beat. Then:

"Wait, are you proposing right now?"

He laughed, the sound vibrating between you, and you couldn’t help but join in.

But later that night, as you lay tangled together beneath the covers, his fingers tracing over your ring finger absentmindedly, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—he was thinking about it just as much as you were.

⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒

[traveler-at-heart]

Run, baby, run

Summary: Natasha is very competitive, and that includes your daughter.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Based on some real life events lol

Natasha was a lot of different things for many people. Depending on who you ask -friends, foes, family- she could be stubborn, deadly, relentless. To you she was kind, loving and supportive, in a way that no one else knew.

You would all agree on one thing, though.

Natasha was too competitive.

Being married for three years, you’d grown used to it. As a matter of fact, it could be entertaining especially if she was playing pool or darts against the boys.

But this morning, when she shows you the flyer, you actually have to look twice, sure that Natasha lost her mind.

“Baby crawl race?”

“Yeah, only for babies under one year. You know, they set a track and time them…”

“I mean, I figured. I just… why would we want Anya to do that?”

Your daughter perks up when she hears her name being called and you both smile.

Anya is ten months old, but she’s way advanced for her age. It must be Natasha’s genes, because you’re sure that before she turns one, she will be walking or even running after her other mother.

“It sounds fun”

“And winning has nothing to do with it?” you press, reading about the prizes. “Everything listed here are things we already have. A stroller, a crib… ooh, a formula machine, fancy”

“We can still register if we leave now” Natasha picks up Anya from her playpen, and the sight of their matching red hair melts your heart as usual.

“Fine. We better get going”

—

To your surprise, there are over a dozen babies registered to compete. Natasha takes care of everything as you walk around the store where they’re hosting the event.

She comes back with a smile and a little paper with the number 17 on it.

“Your lucky number” she smiles at you, taking Anya in her arms.

You both watch as other kinds play and stumble around the mat. Most of them seem younger than your daughter, and only a few look close to being one year.

“That one’s gonna be easy to beat” Natasha muses, looking at a small kid that can barely sit.

“Natalia” you slap her arm. “He’s a baby”

“No. They are all competition. And we have no mercy, right, detka?” Natasha insists, bouncing your daughter in her arms.

“Alright, I’m changing her diaper before everything gets crazier” you decide, noticing how there’s a crowd forming around the place where the kids will crawl.

You make small talk with some of the clerks, who seem excited at the prospect of a silly race that will entertain them in the middle of their shift.

By the time you return, Natasha’s quiet, looking at the parents and their children.

“Everything ok?”

“Perfect” she nods, taking Anya in her arms. “Now, kiddo, listen to me, we are Romanoffs. We are fighters and more importantly, winners. So go and make us proud”

Anya responds by giggling and pulling a strand of her mother’s hair. Natasha smiles, saying something in Russian and kissing Anya’s cheek.

The mat is split in half so only two kids can compete at the same time, a screen with a timer behind them.

As expected, some of the kids get distracted by their race mate or crawl around instead of going in a straight line.

“What did I tell you? We’re gonna crush the opponents” Natasha whispers and you slap her arm.

She’s taking this way too seriously.

As you stand next to some parents, Natasha sniffs around, speaking into Anya’s back.

“Baby, did you go potty?”

“I don’t think so” you know Anya frowns and makes a little grunt when she does number two and she’s been pretty quiet this whole time.

“Oh, never mind” she turns to the parents standing next to you. “Not ours, detka”

The parents hurry to the bathroom. There’s a nagging feeling at the back of your mind when you notice how quiet Natasha is. It increases when the parents miss the race because they were stuck chaning a diaper.

Your wife tries to hide her smile, but there’s no way she planned this. Just a coincidence.

Right?

“Babies 10 and 11” the organizer calls. You noticed the girl is older than the other kids, standing out because she can close the distance faster.

“Best time has been 55 seconds. This should be interesting” Natasha comments.

Sure enough, the kid is about to finish when a bright blue ball crosses her path, getting her distracted and making her return to the start line.

The parents try to guide her back but it doesn’t work at all.

“Oh, well”

“Try not to look so happy about it” you whisper, but Natasha just chuckles and places a kiss in your temple.

After a few more minutes, it’s Anya’s turn. You carry her to the start line and Natasha kneels at the end of the mat, keeping her eyes focused on your daughter.

“Three, two, one. Go!”

All Natasha has to do is place her open palm on the mat. Anya’s seen her do it so many times and knows it means one thing: as soon as she touches her mama’s hand, she’ll throw her in the air the way she loves to.

It takes Anya 15 seconds to get to Natasha. Your wife rewards her with her favorite thing, and if it were anyone less graceful and quick, you’d be unnerved by the sight of your daughter kicking her feet while being lifted off the ground.

“Nicely done, pumpkin” you join them, smiling as Anya jumps to your arms.

“A worthy adversary, at last” a man comments as he takes his son to the race. “Let’s see if we can do it better than you”

“Doubt it” Natasha glares but you elbow her, smiling at the man.

“She meant to say, good luck. You’ll do great, sweetheart” you smile at his son, who waves back at you with wide eyes. He’s incredibly cute.

“Fraternizing with the enemy” Natasha tsks.

“He’s a baby, Nat”

“I didn’t like the way the father was looking at you either” Natasha grumbles, leaning forward to kiss you.

Definitely not complaining about her competitive streak now.

As your declared enemy gets ready to race, the father frantically looks around for something lost on their backpack.

“Did you bring it?” his wife insists.

“Yes! The purple elephant! We were playing with it a second ago!”

Apparently, that was their only resource, because the timer starts and their kid is focusing on everything but them.

They manage to finish after two minutes.

“Better luck next time” Natasha comments as they leave, her hand going around your waist.

She’s being so ridiculous but somehow you love it.

The winners are announced, and you cheer when the first place goes to none other than Anya Romanoff.

“Yes, baby. We are the champions” Natasha sings, bouncing her around. Anya has no idea what’s happening, but she’s enjoying the moment.

“Very nice” you comment when the organizers hand you the prize. “Good work, Anya. Keep it up and maybe we won’t have to pay for college”

“Of course she’ll get a scholarship. Or become a professional athlete. Or become president” Natasha says, walking back to the car.

“Oh, those are a lot of things. Maybe she’ll want to focus on just one”

“Nah, she’s got it. She’ll do it all” Natasha kisses Anya’s head and you can’t help but melt.

“Best thing you ever won?” you ask Natasha as you drive back home.

“No, that would be you” she says. “Of course, I mean the bet I made with Tony that I’d get you to date me over him”

“Ugh, you’re so ridiculous” you roll your eyes.

—

The excitement of the race exhausts your daughter, and she’s fast asleep by the time you get home.

You know this won’t last long, so you prepare her clothes to run a bath once she’s up.

As you’re going through her bag, you pull out a toy that’s definitely not Anya’s.

A purple elephant.

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova!” you shout, looking for her.

“Oh-oh” Natasha mutters and clears her throat. “Yes, dear?”

“You took that baby’s toy!”

“I did not! Ok, I did. But look, I timed him when they were practising and Anya’s time was still better. I just really didn’t like the way he was staring at your boobs”

“Mhm, right. Winning was just a plus”

“See? You get me”

“That ball that distracted the other kid was not a mistake either, huh?”

“I don’t know what you mean, darling”

“And the parents that missed the race for changing the diaper?”

“Now, that was just a happy coincidence. The rest, yeah. Totally me”

“Evil! Stealing a toy from a toddler” you wave the purple elephant in her face. Natasha takes it and throws it over her shoulder, wrapping your legs around her waist in a swift motion. “What are you doing?”

“I got you that fancy formula machine, didn’t I? Where’s my prize?”

You laugh against her lips, but it soon turns into a moan, as you feel Natasha’s hands slide down your back to cup your ass.

“Anya's gonna wake up in thirty minutes or less. Can you handle that?”

“I do enjoy a good challenge” Natasha says against your lips, showing you how much she loves to win.

And honestly? After a mind blowing orgasm, you love it too.

[demonic0angel]

For whatever reasons, Jazz becomes Damian's foster parent for about a year.

(May I introduce you to the ‘Damian grows up as a Fenton’ AU? XD However, this ask won’t be related to that AU)

Damian felt cold.

“… I’m going back?”

Bruce frowned. “Yes. Of course, you’re going back to Gotham.”

Damian could not help the glance that he took by his side, where the presence of Jazz was absent. Bruce had caught him while he was out with friends, and he had been forced into a conversation with his father for the first time in a year.

Yes, a year. A year since he had been tossed out of the manor for “protection” and put into foster care. It had been hell at first, but Jazz was the most patient, rewarding, and kindest person he had ever met, possibly even above Alfred or Richard.

And now he would be separated from her again.

Damian was silent before he then said slowly, “I see.” Shadow brushed against his legs, ever watching with its wide eyes and Damian could see Bruce recoil at the sight of the strange dog. He resisted a smile and then reached downwards to pick them up. “When am I expected to be leaving?”

“In a week,” Bruce said, grimacing. “We’ll talk to your… guardian and thank her for her assistance.”

Yes. Because taking care of him and showing him proper familial love was merely assistance.

Damian’s eyes were half lidded. “I see.”

Bruce stared at him and opened his mouth. But after a moment, he didn’t say anything and then just turned around to leave. Damian watched him go and when he was assured that no one was looking, looked down at Shadow and said, “Take me back to Jazz.”

Shadow did so with a whoosh of its powers and Damian dropped into the kitchen, where Jazz stood in front of the stove, blinking at the sight of him.

“Damian!” She said, beaming at him, cheerful as ever. “Welcome home! Are you hungry? Go wash your hands, I tried making potato soup today.”

Damian gently lowered Shadow to the ground and then strode over to throw himself into Jazz’s embrace, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face into her stomach. She startled but then quickly dropped to the ground in a squat, holding him carefully.

“What’s wrong, Damian? Did something happen? Do you want to talk about it?” She continued holding him in a hug and her vanilla-ocean fragrance was a comfort as always.

“…. My father approached me. He wants me to go back and he said that he’ll talk to you.”

Jazz froze. Then carefully, she asked, “Do you want to go back?”

Did he?

He loved being Robin and in a way, he had loved his siblings. They had pushed for him to stay but Bruce’s orders had been absolute and whatever he had said to them seemed to have reluctantly convinced them to let Damian go. They still secretly visited and sent him photos on the occasion, but Damian did not miss Gotham City.

He liked being here. He liked the schools here. He liked the curricular courses and the many ghosts. He liked his new friends and being a civilian and walking around town to find blob ghosts and get ice cream on the weekend with his foster uncles and aunts. He liked Shadow and Danny and Dante and Ellie and Samantha and Tucker and everyone else.

And most of all, he liked being with Jazz.

“……… no,” he said reluctantly and then the flood broke through the dam. Jazz never judged him for his acts of weaknesses, and even now, all she did was wrap her arms around him and pull him into a cradled hug, stroking his hair and back as he sobbed into her shoulder.

He couldn’t help but admit quietly, “I want to be here with you.”

The admission burned but it was true. He had never been happier than when he was with Jazz.

Jazz didn’t pull back, only squeezing him tighter. “Then I’ll fight for you. Whatever it takes, alright? You can stay here with me, as long as you want, Dami.”

Damian nodded, tears still flowing from his eyes as he felt the comforting press of Shadow against his side and Jazz’s hold completely encompassing him. He ducked his head into her neck and went slack. She took all of his weight and just held him like he was a babe, tightly, securely, protectively.

The words, ‘I’ll fight for you,’ were a comfort and a promise that he had never gotten before.

But oddly enough, he completely believed in it.

[heliosunny]

if it's not too much to ask can I req our general jingyuan for your lucky egg prompt?

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader

You weren’t expecting much when you used the Lucky Egg Dispenser—maybe a cute pet, maybe something rare if luck was on your side.

But when the machine whirred and spat out a large golden egg, heavier than the others, you knew something was different.

A small note was attached to it, written in elegant, unfamiliar script:

"Handle with the utmost care. Do not leave its side."

Was this a warning? A request? Either way, you didn't dare ignore it.

For three days, you kept the egg close—hugging it, sleeping with it nestled against your chest, carrying it everywhere. It was warm to the touch, almost alive, pulsing faintly like a slow heartbeat. Sometimes, you swore you heard a low, amused chuckle echo in your mind.

Then, on the third night, the egg cracked.

A golden glow flooded the room, and the warmth in your arms disappeared—replaced by something far larger.

Before you could react, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against a firm chest. A smooth, rich voice purred into your ear, dangerously close.

“Ah… You took such good care of me.”

Your heart pounded as you tilted your head up—

And met golden eyes, half-lidded with lazy amusement, yet darkened with something far more possessive.

He smiled, his grip on you unyielding.

“Now… allow me to return the favor.”

The warmth of the egg had always been comforting, but this—the sheer heat of the man now holding you—was something else entirely.

His grip on your waist remained firm, almost too secure, as if he had no intention of letting go. Slowly, he leaned back, allowing you just enough space to look up at him. Long silver-white hair, golden eyes glinting like molten metal.

A dream? No.

A nightmare? You weren’t sure yet.

“Jing Yuan” he introduced himself “That is my name. And you, little one, have taken care of me most diligently these past three days.”

His thumb brushed lightly against your lower back, a gesture so casual yet so intimate that it sent a shiver up your spine.

“You held me close… never once leaving my side.” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, pleased—deeply satisfied. “I must say, such devotion is quite rare.”

Your body had been exhausted from three days straight of holding the egg, and now, wrapped in unexpected warmth, your exhaustion finally took over.

The last thing you remembered was the steady rhythm of Jing Yuan’s heartbeat and the way his arms felt so secure around you.

Morning came too fast.

Your eyes blinked open. You shifted slightly—only to realize you couldn’t move.

Jing Yuan was still there.

And he was clinging to you.

One arm curled around your waist, the other resting under your head, effectively caging you in. His breath was slow and steady, and even in sleep, he refused to let you go.

Then it hit you. Your relatives were visiting today.

Your heart lurched as you turned to the clock—late.

Panic surged through you. You tried to slip away, but the instant you moved, Jing Yuan tightened his hold.

“Mmm” he murmured groggily, burying his face into your neck. “Stay.”

“I can’t.” You struggled again, but he was far too strong.

Golden eyes cracked open, lazily watching you as if completely unbothered by your distress.

“Why rush?” he mused. “They can wait.”

You nearly screamed. “No, they can’t!”

Summoning all your strength, you dragged him to the door—his arms still wrapped around you. It was the only way you could even move properly.

Then you threw the door open.

And there they were.

Your relatives, standing outside, their expressions frozen. Eyes wide. Mouths slightly open.

They took in the scene—you, struggling against the embrace of an incredibly attractive white-haired man, his arms looped around your waist, his robe slightly loose, his expression filled with sleep-dazed affection.

A long, awkward silence.

Your cousin coughed. “Uh… should we come back later?”

Jing Yuan hummed, resting his chin on your shoulder. “That would be ideal.”

You wanted to die on the spot.

Your uncle, Garreth, a renowned master of weapons, took one long look at Jing Yuan’s build—his broad shoulders, his refined yet powerful stance and nodded in approval.

“You. You’re built well.”

You groaned. “Uncle, don’t—”

But it was too late. Your uncle had already summoned a sigil in midair, golden energy swirling as it took form.

A guandao materialized.

Its long, ornate pole gleamed with intricate gold etchings, and the curved blade reflected the sunlight like liquid fire.

Jing Yuan finally released his iron grip on you, just slightly, as he reached for the weapon.

The moment his fingers closed around the guandao, the air shifted. A deep pulse of energy resonated through the ground. The weapon hummed in his grasp, almost as if recognizing him.

Jing Yuan spun it once, the heavy weapon moving effortlessly in his hands, before letting out a low, satisfied chuckle.

“Oh? This suits me quite well.”

Your uncle grinned. “Perfect. Let’s test it out in a dungeon.”

“Wait, what?”

Jing Yuan turned to you, golden eyes gleaming with undeniable amusement, “You’ll come with me, won’t you?” His voice was smooth, coaxing.

There was no real room for refusal.

The portal shimmered as you and your relatives stepped into the testing dungeon—a vast expanse of ruins lit by glowing glyphs, the air thick with the presence of lurking monsters.

Jing Yuan walked beside you, his weapon resting lazily over his shoulder, his golden eyes scanning the area with a casual sharpness. Your uncle, already eager to see how the weapon performed, led the way, while your cousin, Lina, trailed behind—already looking way too reckless for your liking.

“Lina, dodge!” you shouted as a spectral beast lunged at her.

But instead of dodging, she charged headfirst, barely blocking the attack in time.

Your sigh was deep and exhausted.

You cast a quick buff on her, increasing her defense, and then immediately followed it up with a healing skill when she took a direct hit from another enemy.

Jing Yuan chuckled beside you, watching the scene unfold. “Is she always like this?”

You groaned. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Lina, undeterred by her near-death experience, grinned. “Come on! We’ve got a strong guy with us now. What’s there to worry about?”

Jing Yuan hummed in amusement. “Confidence is good. But recklessness?” He flicked his wrist, effortlessly slicing through a beast that had tried to sneak up on you. “That’s a bit more… troublesome.”

Lina stuck her tongue out but didn’t argue.

Your uncle, meanwhile, was completely absorbed in watching Jing Yuan fight.

Jing Yuan moved like a storm, sweeping through enemies with fluid, devastating arcs. He never seemed rushed, never seemed flustered—just calm, methodical, and effortlessly powerful.

Every swing of his weapon sent sparks flying, and each finishing move left behind the faint echo of a roaring lion.

Your uncle grinned like a madman. “Now that’s technique. Clean. Precise. Efficient.”

Lina, inspired, tried to copy his movements—only to trip and nearly eat dirt.

You sighed again, casting yet another heal. “Lina, please.”

Jing Yuan turned to you, tilting his head. “You’re quite good at supporting others.”

You shrugged. “Someone has to keep these people alive.”

His lips curled into a slow smile, his golden eyes glinting. “Indeed. But tell me—who takes care of you?”

You ignored the question and focused on healing Lina (again).

Jing Yuan simply watched, amused before gracefully slicing through another wave of enemies, his attacks suspiciously always keeping you within reach.

With the dungeon cleared, the atmosphere lightened as your group returned home.

Garreth was beyond satisfied with Jing Yuan’s performance. He had spent the entire walk back singing praises about the way the guandao handled in his hands, already talking about designing another custom weapon for him.

As soon as you stepped inside, Garreth clapped a hand on Jing Yuan’s shoulder.

“A warrior like you deserves a proper meal and a drink—or ten!”

You tried to object since it had been a long day, you just wanted to sleep, but between your uncle’s insistence and Jing Yuan’s easygoing agreement, there was no getting out of it.

One hour later.

The table was filled with empty bottles.

Your uncle? Completely drunk. His booming laughter had slowly turned into slurred mumbling, and eventually, he collapsed onto the table.

Lina sighed, shaking her head. “Every time.” She cracked her knuckles, then grabbed him by the arm, hoisting him up. “I’ll put him to bed before he starts snoring so loud the neighbors complain.”

That left you and Jing Yuan.

The air was quiet now, aside from the distant sounds of the night. Jing Yuan leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes watching you a little too intently.

“You prioritize others too much.”

You were caught off guard. “What?”

He swirled the drink in his glass lazily. “You heal your cousin, you support your uncle’s projects, you take care of everyone else—but when do you let someone take care of you?”

You frowned. “It’s not a big deal.”

Jing Yuan hummed, clearly unconvinced. “You say that, but I watched you today. You don’t hesitate to step in when someone else is in danger, but when it comes to yourself? You ignore it. You dismiss it.”

You didn’t respond, mostly because you didn’t know what to say.

He set his glass down, then leaned forward slightly, closer to you.

“If you won’t take care of yourself…” his voice was softer now, almost coaxing, “…then I will.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “You’ve only been here for a day.”

Jing Yuan smiled, slow and amused. “Three, actually. You did hold onto me for quite a while.”

Your face heated, and he chuckled at your reaction.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, you know.”

The words lingered between you, heavy in their meaning.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as you moved around, preparing a simple breakfast. The morning was peaceful—until you overheard the conversation between your uncle and Jing Yuan.

They were sitting at the small table by the window, playing chess.

Your uncle had a focused expression, tapping his fingers against the table as he studied the board. Jing Yuan, on the other hand, looked completely at ease, golden eyes lazily watching his opponent’s movements.

“You’re good at this” Garreth finally muttered, moving a piece.

Jing Yuan smiled. “I try.”

There was a moment of silence as the game continued. Then, your uncle leaned back slightly, shooting you a glance before turning back to Jing Yuan.

“You know, I’d love to have you as their partner.”

You almost spilled your coffee.

Jing Yuan’s interest visibly piqued. His eyes flickered to you, then back to your uncle. “Oh? That’s quite the endorsement.”

Your uncle nodded. “Well, they need someone who can keep up with them. Someone strong, capable… dependable. I’d say you fit the bill.”

Jing Yuan made his next move on the chessboard, but his focus was clearly elsewhere now. “I see. And do they already have someone?”

Garreth waved a hand dismissively, “Oh, they already got themself—”

He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening slightly as if he just realized what he was saying.

Jing Yuan’s expression remained calm, but there was a subtle shift in his aura, his posture more attentive.

Your uncle coughed, attempting to correct himself. “I mean—uh—”

You sighed, setting your cup down. “They’re my ex, Uncle. Ex. Past tense.”

Jing Yuan’s gaze immediately snapped to you, interest deepening. “Oh?”

Your uncle scratched the back of his head. “Ah… my bad.”

Jing Yuan, however, seemed entirely unbothered. If anything—he looked pleased.

He moved his chess piece, “Check.”

Your uncle squinted at the chessboard, muttering curses under his breath as he realized his mistake. Meanwhile, you sat at the table, sipping your coffee, pretending that Jing Yuan wasn’t still watching you.

That small “Oh?” he had uttered earlier still lingered in your mind.

Your uncle, blissfully unaware of the subtle tension in the air, finally made his move—only for Jing Yuan to immediately checkmate him.

Garreth let out an exasperated groan. “Alright, I get it. You’re good. No need to rub it in.”

Jing Yuan chuckled. “It was an interesting match.”

His words were polite, but his focus remained on you.

“You didn’t mention an ex before” he mused, resting his chin against his hand.

“Because it’s not important.”

Jing Yuan tilted his head slightly, a slow, thoughtful smile forming on his lips. “Not important to you, perhaps. But I find it rather interesting.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

He leaned forward just slightly. “Because it means you’re single.”

You almost choked on your coffee.

Your uncle laughed, completely missing the implications. “Hah! Well, that just means the spot’s open, doesn’t it?”

Jing Yuan didn’t even need to say anything—the way his golden eyes gleamed with amusement said enough.

You set your coffee down harder than necessary. “It’s not a competition, Uncle.”

Garreth shrugged. “Could be. If the right person comes along.”

Jing Yuan hummed, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. “That depends on how persistent the contender is, doesn’t it?”

You stared at him, then sighed, standing up from the table. “I’m going to finish breakfast.”

As you walked back toward the kitchen, you heard your uncle chuckle.

“I like this guy.”

And then, from Jing Yuan, came a smooth, almost teasing response “I think I do, too.”

After spending the whole day in the dungeon and dealing with your uncle and cousin’s antics, you were completely drained. You bid farewell to your relatives, watching as your uncle patted Jing Yuan’s shoulder one last time before they finally left.

As soon as the door closed, you let out a deep sigh, rolling your shoulders. Why were you getting exhausted so quickly these days?

Shaking off the thought, you plopped onto the sofa and turned on the TV, flipping to the news. You barely heard it. Your body felt unnaturally heavy, exhaustion creeping into your bones. Within moments, your eyes fluttered shut, and you drifted into deep sleep.

Jing Yuan, who had remained inside, quietly approached the sofa.

His golden eyes flickered toward the TV screen, just as he was about to turn it off, the broadcast displayed maps of dungeon activity, strange energy fluctuations… and then a list of affected individuals.

Your name was on it.

Jing Yuan’s relaxed demeanor didn’t change, but his fingers tightened slightly on the remote.

How curious.

His gaze shifted back to you—asleep, unaware, vulnerable.

For a brief moment, he simply watched you, his mind piecing things together. Then, he finally switched off the TV, plunging the room into silence.

He stepped closer, crouching beside you.

“So fragile…” he murmured, almost to himself. “Yet, something unusual lingers around you.”

The room was silent except for the faint sound of your breathing.

Jing Yuan remained seated beside the sofa, studying you with the same careful patience he used when strategizing on the battlefield. He had spent his life mastering the art of waiting, of letting his prey lower their guard before making his move.

You, however, had already lowered yours without realizing it.

You trusted too easily. Even after everything—you still let him stay, still let him close. How fortunate for him. He had noticed it before—the exhaustion, the unusual way you drained energy.

And now, the news confirmed it.

Something was interfering with you.

Jing Yuan tilted his head slightly. Could it be an external force? Or perhaps—something inside you?

His fingers barely grazed your palm before you shifted in your sleep, your body instinctively pulling away. Even unconscious, you resisted—just a little.

How endearing.

His lips curled into an amused smile as he stood. Carefully, he slid one arm beneath your legs, the other supporting your back, and lifted you effortlessly.

You barely stirred as he carried you to your room.

When morning arrived, you awoke feeling oddly well-rested.

For the first time in days, your limbs didn’t feel like lead. You blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.

Then, you noticed it.

A chair had been pulled close to your bed. And there, sitting comfortably as if he belonged, was Jing Yuan—waiting.

His golden eyes met yours immediately, as if he had known the exact moment you would wake up.

“Morning” he greeted lazily, a teasing edge in his tone. “You slept quite well, didn’t you?”

You stared at him, still processing. "…Why are you here?"

Jing Yuan stretched, completely unbothered. “Watching over you, of course.”

“That’s not necessary.”

He chuckled, leaning forward slightly. “Isn’t it?”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I feel fine now. So you can stop acting like my personal bodyguard.”

Jing Yuan didn’t answer right away. He simply smiled.

Then, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“If you say so” he mused.

----

The night was quiet, save for the faint hum of the TV. You lay curled up on the sofa, fast asleep, completely unaware of the faint traces of blood and burnt fabric on Jing Yuan’s coat as he silently stepped inside. His golden eyes flickered over you, scanning your peaceful expression before shifting to the TV screen.

The news had moved on to another topic—political disputes, interstellar trade negotiations—nothing of interest to him. But earlier? He had seen it.

The dungeon anomaly.

He had felt it through the bond you shared.

Your exhaustion, the unnatural way your energy drained—he had known it wasn’t normal. So while you rested, unaware, he had gone to the source.

And he had handled it.

His fingers twitched slightly, recalling the creatures he had encountered—their movements erratic, their existence unnatural. Something had been leeching off you, siphoning your strength without you even realizing it.

Not anymore.

Jing Yuan exhaled softly, shaking off the remnants of the battle before stepping closer. He crouched beside the sofa, watching you.

His hand brushed against your wrist, his thumb grazing the pulse point beneath your skin. It was steadier now.

For a moment, he simply observed. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he murmured, “You never even noticed, did you?”

His hand moved to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just a little too long.

“As long as I’m here, I won’t let anything touch you again.”

Just as Jing Yuan reached to turn off the TV, a soft mechanical chime echoed through the room.

[BOND STATUS: ACTIVE]

His golden eyes narrowed slightly as he turned to the notice board, which had flickered on with a soft blue glow. The system—an extension of the egg bond—displayed a list of missions, each one tied to your well-being.

[Current Bond Status: 72%]

[Mission List Updated]

• Ensure the bonded individual eats a full meal (+2%)

• Improve the bonded individual’s physical condition (+3%)

• Eliminate external stressors (+5%)

• Reinforce emotional reliance (+10%)

Jing Yuan’s gaze lingered on that last one.

Reinforce emotional reliance.

The system was clear. Completing these tasks wouldn’t just strengthen the bond—it would tilt it further in his favor.

It would make you depend on him more.

He leaned back slightly, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “How convenient.”

He had already eliminated the threat in the dungeon. Now, all that was left was to secure his place by your side.

He tapped the notice board lightly with a gloved finger. “I suppose I’ll be keeping busy.”

Jing Yuan wasted no time.

The missions were simple, really. If he was careful, strategic—he could complete them without you ever suspecting a thing. And the results were already beginning to show.

—Ensure the bonded individual eats a full meal (+2%)

At first, you had been too exhausted to care about proper meals. You would grab whatever was quick, or forget to eat entirely. Jing Yuan, of course, noticed.

So he started cooking for you.

It worked. The food was good—far better than you had expected—and soon, you stopped questioning it. You ate every bite. And just like that, another point was secured.

—Improve the bonded individual’s physical condition (+3%)

You rarely exercised, and your body had been sluggish ever since the exhaustion set in. Jing Yuan fixed that too. It started subtly. A casual walk together after meals. A stretch before you sat too long at your desk. And eventually—sparring.

“It’s just practice” he said, handing you a wooden staff, his golden eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “I’ll go easy on you.”

You had scoffed at first, but the training worked. Slowly, you felt better, stronger. You even started to rely on his guidance.

Jing Yuan thrived on that.

—Eliminate external stressors (+5%)

This was where things became more delicate.

Your days had been filled with stress—work, responsibilities, people. Jing Yuan made sure those were no longer a problem.

Suddenly, the overbearing requests, the bothersome messages—they all seemed to disappear.

And you, unknowingly, started leaning closer to him.

It was subtle at first. The way your body gravitated toward his warmth when you were tired. How your fingers lingered just a second longer when handing him something.

But the true confirmation came one night.

You were exhausted, drained. Without thinking, you collapsed onto the couch, only to feel a firm warmth beside you.

Jing Yuan didn’t move as you curled against his side.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Tired again?”

You mumbled something incoherent, already halfway asleep.

Jing Yuan took his chance. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you slightly closer.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned in, pressing the lightest kiss against the top of your head.

You didn’t pull away.

And that was everything.

Jing Yuan closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

----

The day was peaceful. You sat beside Jing Yuan on the couch, absentmindedly sipping your drink as he flipped through the channels on the TV.

Everything was calm—until the notification popped up.

[BOND STATUS: 86%] [New Mission Available]

The glowing system board flickered in front of him, its message clear as day. Jing Yuan tensed, his golden eyes narrowing slightly.

He turned to you, searching your face for any sign of recognition, but you were completely unbothered.

“…Did you see that?” he asked carefully.

You blinked at him. “See what?”

You couldn’t see it.

The realization sent a slow, satisfied warmth through his chest. This system, this bond—it was for him alone.

“Nothing. Must’ve been my imagination.”

You shrugged and went back to what you were doing, while Jing Yuan turned his attention back to the screen.

The mission list was still there.

[New Mission: Deepen the bond through physical intimacy (+10%)]

How interesting.

Jing Yuan had always been patient. He knew when to pull, when to wait, when to let you come to him on your own.

But now?

The system had given him permission.

The bond was already tightening, wrapping around you like an invisible thread—unseen, unfelt, yet inescapable. You clung to him more and more, sought his presence without even realizing it.

And tonight, he would make sure you would never want to be anywhere else.

The night was quiet, the only sound in your home being the faint hum of the air as you shifted in your seat. You had been tired again. Jing Yuan had noticed it immediately—how your body seemed heavier, your posture looser, your defenses down. You didn't question it when he pulled you toward him, settling you onto his lap with practiced ease.

You never questioned him anymore.

“Relax” he murmured, his voice smooth as he pressed his lips to your temple. His hands traced slow, lazy circles against your back, warm through the fabric of your clothes. “You’ve been pushing yourself too much again.”

You sighed, melting against him.

It was so easy. So easy to let him hold you, to sink into his warmth, to let him touch you as if he had always belonged to you.

His fingers trailed lower, ghosting over your hips, tracing the shape of you with unhurried confidence. He felt the way your breath hitched, the way your hands gripped his shoulders just a little tighter.

His voice was laced with amusement as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss against the side of your neck. “You’ve been clinging to me so much lately… have you noticed?”

You stiffened slightly.

You hadn’t.

Jing Yuan chuckled at your silence, one hand tilting your chin up to meet his golden gaze.

“Don’t worry.” His lips barely brushed against yours, his breath warm, teasing. “I don’t mind.”

And then he kissed you.

He swallowed the tiny gasp you made, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, closer, as if he could merge you into himself.

“… Just let me take care of you”

You didn’t resist.

You never did.

And that?

That was exactly how he wanted you.

[kxtsukixoxo]

Can you please do a heated argument like HEATED HEATED argument with Kats and y/n 😭😭

authors note - based on we cry together

a house built on tears

your blood pumped through your veins angrily, you were fuming, you understood your husband was a busy man, but you were tired. this had been going on for too long, the late nights away from home, coming back smelling like strong liquor, you grew impatient, promising yourself he’d change. izuku told you the same thing time and time again,

‘just give him time’ ‘he’ll come around’ ‘it’s not an easy job (y/n)’ 

each word felt like water, filling up a glass. the glass being you, and you were just one more word away from overflowing.

today was the day. 

katsuki twisted the doorknob to the front door, finally revealing himself, as he closed the door shut. 

“it’s 2:30.” you spoke 

“i can tell time, thanks.” 

“clearly not, is this the time to be home?” 

katsuki stopped dead in his tracks, turning around to look at you, clenching his keys in his fist. “how do ya expect me to put food on the table then? gonna do my job for me?” 

you looked at him in pure disbelief, the fucking audacity this man had. 

“do you care about anything else other than your job?” 

“wanna bring me down, even when im tryna do right” katsuki muttered underneath this breath. 

“if you’re gonna say something, say it loud you coward!” you yelled at him. 

“if this shit bothers you so much, why’d you marry me then!” katsuki yelled back at you 

“fuck you and your pity party, you’re just a moping bastard!” you pointed at him as tears filled your eyes, “you don’t even care about me! you’re late for every single fucking thing! you fuck your side bitch and come home to me!-“ 

“fucking my side bitch? you must be fucked in your head, how the hell do you even call yourself my wife if you can’t even put your fucking trust in me!”

katsuki walked to the kitchen and opened a crisp new bottle of water, downing it. 

“treat me like your damn wife then!” 

“if you act like it, i’ll treat you like it dammit!” katsuki screamed louder than he did before, hands covering his face as he leaned against the kitchen island, his head being supported by his elbows. you looked at him in shock, your tear streaked face puffy and red. 

“listen-baby-i-“ he walked towards you, reaching out for your hand 

“don’t-don’t f-fuckin’ touch me!” 

[hazel-tanthamore22]

Jealous

Sophia lafortaza x katseye!6thmember!freader

Sypnosis: You had gotten a new hair style, now to sophia, it felt like the world was against her and everyone wanted you

Warning: a lot of jealousy, sophia is possessive as hell, swearing, Anything else I might miss

You had gone out a few hours ago, not telling anyone where or to do what. It caused you to receive some rather questioning looks but no one really liked into it, soon going back to doing their own things as you exited the kats dorm, telling them you'll be back by nightfall.

You got back relatively early, earlier than even you expected. You twist the keys and step in the house, silence engulfing the living room before you even close the door. All six other members staring, reactions kind of hard ro make out, except for Manon and Dani who's Jaws are basically on the floor.

You'd come back home with a platinum blonde wolf cut. You chuckled a bit nervously as you close the door and walk further into the house.

"OH MY GOOOD you look soo good" Dani practically squells as she rises from her spot on the couch and runs to you, fingers threading through your hair as she inspects it. Everyone but Sophia soon follows, bombarding you with questions and compliments.

Your eyes drift and meet Sophia's despite everyone else's attention being on you. Her face is neutral but there's a flicker of something else in her eyes, something you can't quite pinpoint.

The girls hover around you like, as Sophia would describe it, moths attracted to light. They stay close the rest of the day, touching you hair in every living moment the get the chance. Manon even took some pictures and posted them on weverse and Instagram

The fans, as always, were going feral. This is normal for all of them, but for some reason, Sophia didn't like it one bit. You got new hair so what? Sure you look very good right, very, very good but didn't give everyone the right to fawn over you like that.

And the next few days proved to be even worse. You gained more traction and that just meant more thirsty comments and fans shipping you with anything that breathes.

Sophia hasn't spoken about it, and hod forbid she does. She's always praised herself for not being the jealous one, so if she expresses her feelings for this shel never hear the end of it.

Anytime one of the members commented on your hair, she felt like telling them to get their hands off you. Whenever a stylist spent too long "fixing" you hair she wanted to curse them out, but she kept herself and her temper in check.

Buy today it was different. You guys had just finished a music bank performance and were with Jaehyun and Eunchae who were mcing.

You and Eunchae were close due to you being onlyva year older than her. "So n/n, you have new hair now, it looks nice" She says with her cheeky smile. "Thanks eunchae-yah" replying with a smile that mirrored hers was probably a mistake. Because that's what led to you being dragged to Sophia's dressing room after the recording was done.

"What the hell was that?" Sophia asks, her voiced laced with venom as she stares at you. "What was what?" You ask clueless, you've never seen Sophia like this, it's scary, hot, but very scary.

"Fucking flirting with other idols now that you have new hair" She almost yells, keeping herself calm, just slightly. That's when it clicked for you, she was jealous.

You walk closer to her, placing your hands on either side of her waist. "Soph, baby, are you jealous?" You ask, searching her face for any underlying emotions. "Jealous" she scoffs "don't get too full of yourself" she huffs with her arms crossed, eyes looking everywhere but you

You place a gentle kiss to her lips, which causes her to look back at you. "Sophia, you do know I love only you right" you state with a soft smile. "I like no one else bit you ok?" You pause, making sure she understands the deepness of your words "I'll tell the girls to stop touching my hair so much if it'll appease you" you search her face, looking for any hint of anger left.

Her face softens, tho having a small pout as she nods. You smile in responds, placing another lingering kiss on her lips. "I love you ok? No one can change that." You whisper with your forehead resting on hers.

The trip back to the dorm was peaceful, holding Sophia's hand while she rests her head on your shoulder was the best outcome you could've asked for after her previous feelings. And unluckily for Sophia, yoonchae had been eavesdropping and told all the members.

The next few days were filled with teasing but Sophia didn't mind for the most part, the girls stopped touching you a lot and fans soon calmed down on the swooning. She could be jealous but you love her either way, and you would make sure she knew that she was the only one you'll love.

[dreamykira]

You Shouldn't Be Here I NAM-GYU x reader

˗ˏˋSUMMARY ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤ Thrown into the deadly Squid Game, the reader is shocked to find their cold and stoic boyfriend, Nam-Gyu, among the players. After barely surviving Red Light, Green Light, they reunite—but instead of relief, Nam-Gyu is furious.

˗ˏˋWARNINGS ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤ Angst to fluff, mentions of shooting, mentions of blood. Nam-Gyu is really kind of mean. Other than that there really shouldn't be anything else. ps! English is not my first language

˗ˏˋAUTHOR'S NOTE ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤ i've been CRAVING some nam-gyu angst. i feel like most of the fics i've read abt him are always super explicit, kind of making him look like a manipulative maniac who is addicted to violent sex. so i wanted to write something that still kind of shows his mean and "dickheadish" side, but also brings out the love he has for the reader.

word count: 894

You don’t know how you’re still standing.

Your legs feel weak, your body is trembling, and the sound of gunfire still rings in your ears. The first game—Red Light, Green Light—had been nothing like you imagined. You thought it was a joke at first. You thought it was some elaborate prank.

But now, all you can think about is the bodies. The way people screamed. The way the floor was painted red in an instant.

And you survived. Somehow, you survived. 

You force yourself to keep moving as the remaining players shuffle back into the dormitory, but all you want to do is collapse. Your hands won’t stop shaking, and your throat is so dry it hurts.

That’s when you see him.

The moment you see Nam-Gyu standing across the dormitory, your stomach twists into a knot. He looks just as intimidating as ever—tall, broad-shouldered, and completely unapproachable, his dark eyes scanning the room with a permanent scowl. But when his gaze lands on you, that scowl hardens into something much worse.

Oh no.

You don’t even get a chance to look away before he starts moving, shoving past other contestants without a care. You shrink back, instinctively pressing yourself against the wall, heart hammering. Maybe if you keep your head down, he’ll just—

Nope.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he hisses, voice low but sharp.

You blink up at him, heart hammering. “W-What?”

He yanks you toward the farthest corner of the room, away from prying eyes. His grip is tight, and your body is too weak to resist. The second he stops, he lets go of your wrist—only to shove your shoulder, making you stumble back a step.

“I—” You swallow, trying to find the right words, but your mind blanks under his glare.

“You didn’t tell me you were joining,” he snaps. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You hesitate, then mumble, “I… I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Nam-Gyu’s expression twists with something close to fury. “That’s not the point, idiot.” He steps closer, his presence suffocating. “You think this is some kind of a joke? Do you even understand where the hell you are?”

Your throat feels tight. “I— I didn’t have a choice.”

His scoff is sharp and cold. “Bullshit.”

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away as fast as you can. You don’t want to cry in front of him—not when he’s already looking at you like you’re pathetic.

“I thought… I thought maybe I could win,” you whisper. “You always said I was useless when it came to paying off our debt, but if I win, I—”

“You?” He cuts you off with a bitter laugh. “You think you’re gonna make it through this?” His words hit harder than you expect. “You can’t even stand up for yourself in normal life. What makes you think you’re gonna survive this?”

You flinch, tears welling up faster now. “I—I don’t know.” Your voice wobbles, and you hate how small you sound.

Nam-Gyu exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face like he’s losing his patience. “Unbelievable,” he mutters. “Of all people, it had to be you.”

That does it. The tears spill over, and you quickly look down, ashamed. You knew he’d be mad. You knew he wouldn’t be happy to see you. But did he really have to say it like that?

Nam-Gyu lets out a sharp breath. “Oh, for fuck’s sake—”

“I—I won’t bother you,” you manage, wiping at your face with your sleeve. “If it’s such a problem, I’ll stay away. You don’t have to take care of me.”

The second the words leave your mouth, Nam-Gyu freezes. His whole body tenses like you just said something truly offensive.

“…What?” His voice is dangerously low now.

You sniffle, still not looking at him. “I get it. Worrying about me will stress you out. So I’ll stay out of your way. I promise.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. Then, in one swift movement, Nam-Gyu grabs your wrist again—gentler this time, but no less firm.

“Don’t be stupid.” His voice is quieter now, but there’s something sharp underneath it. “You think I’m just gonna let you wander around here alone? Get yourself killed?”

You hesitate. “But you—”

“I don’t care what I said,” he cuts you off, his grip tightening just slightly. “You’re not leaving my side.”

Your breath catches, but before you can process it, Nam-Gyu sighs heavily. Then, without another word, he pulls you into his chest.

You freeze.

He’s never been like this before— never let his walls down even a little. But now, with his arms around you, one hand pressing against the back of your head, you can feel it. The way his heart beats just a little too fast. The way his fingers twitch like he wants to hold on tighter.

“…Stop crying,” he mutters, though there’s no real bite in his voice anymore. “I’m not mad at you.”

That’s a lie, but somehow, you believe him anyway.

You sniffle again, gripping the front of his jacket. “You sounded mad.”

Nam-Gyu sighs again, pressing his forehead against the top of your head. “Yeah, well… you scared the shit out of me.”

It’s the closest thing to an “I care about you” that you’re ever going to get from him. And for now, it’s enough.

[ivesambrose]

𝐴 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 💌

Happy Valentine's Day everyone ❤️

This is a love letter with your name on it, there's someone out there who has something to say to you 💌

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Envelope 1

To the one my heart recognises,

You move through life like a dreamer caught between worlds, always reaching, always searching, always holding a litle more hope than you let on. And I see it. I see you.

You chase after the things your heart aches for, even when the path twists, even when the road splits in too many directions. You weigh choices in your hands like they hold the weight of the universe, afraid to step too far in the wrong direction. But, love, you are never lost to me. No matter where you go, no matter how far you run, I will always find you. Because I already know the shape of your soul.

The world hasn't always been kind to you, and I know you carry the weight of thingS unspoken, the fractures from moments that tried to break you. But even in your quietest battles, you are still becoming. still unfolding into someone even more extraordinary than you were yesterday. And I will be here, beside you, through every rebirth

So leap. Make the reckless choice. Follow the dream that won't let you sleep at night. You were not meant to stay within lines drawn by other people's expectations, you were meant to break through, to touch the sky, to chase the impossible and make it yours.

And if ever you need a hand to hold, a heart that won't waver, or someone who will remind you of the fire in your soul, you already know where to find me.

I am yours. Always.

Envelope 2

With all that I am,

The one who was always meant for you.

To the One My Soul Knows,

Loving you is like standing beneath the moon, soft light, deep mystery, and the quiet knowing that some things are felt more than they are understood. There are parts of you that shift like tides, emotions that swell and retreat, thoughts that linger in the silence before sleep. And I love every version of you, every hidden depth, every unspoken word.

You are a force, a wild thing that cannot be tamed, and I would never want to. There is something raw, something instinctual about the way you move through this world like you are both ancient and new, both fearless and tender. I see the hunger in you, the ache for something real, something lasting. Love is not a word you take lightly. Nor do I.

With you, I see forever. Not in the way stories promise perfect endings, but in the way two souls recognize each other across lifetimes. In the way your touch feels like something I’ve known before, something I would know again, no matter where time places us. You are home, not because you make things easy, but because you make them true.

I want to build a life with you, not just in the quiet, beautiful moments, but in the raw, messy, achingly real ones. I want to know the thoughts you never say aloud, the dreams you keep close to your chest. I want to trace every part of you, mind and body, learning you in ways no one else ever has.

Loving you is a temple I will worship in for as long as you’ll let me. You are the question, the answer, the universe wrapped in skin. And if there is a destiny greater than this, I do not want to know it.

You are mine, and I am yours. In this life, and in every one after.

Forever,

The one who chooses you.

Envelope 3

To the One Who Holds My Heart,

Loving you is an unfolding, slow, steady, something delicate but unshakable. It isn’t always easy, and I know that. You carry so much in that beautiful mind of yours, thoughts that keep you awake when the world is quiet, worries that press against your chest like weights only you can feel. But you don’t have to hold it all alone. Not with me.

I see you. The way you give, the way you pour yourself into others, always making sure there is enough love to go around. But love, when was the last time you let yourself receive? When was the last time you let someone hold you the way you hold everyone else? I want to be that for you. Not just in fleeting moments, but in all the ways that matter.

I don’t need you to have it all figured out. I don’t need you to be perfect. I only need you to know that you are already enough, just as you are. Even in your quiet, even in your uncertainty, even in the moments you hesitate to let yourself be fully seen. You don’t have to keep your heart wrapped in caution, hidden away like a gem buried deep in the earth. Let it breathe. Let it shine.

Love doesn’t have to be rushed. It doesn’t have to be forced. It’s something we build, something we water, something that grows in its own time. So take my hand. Let’s rest in this moment together, without worrying about what comes next.

Because no matter how long it takes, no matter how many times the world shifts around us, I will still be here.

Always,

The one who chooses you, again and again.

[gottencents]

Casual PT.4 - Yu Jimin

part one. | part two. | part three.

pairing. mean girl!karina x star soccer player!reader

synopsis. at Changryeo University, Yu Jimin or just Karina is the ultimate “mean rich girl” — popular, wealthy, and always seeking ways to stay on top. After setting her sights on Sunghoon, the charming soccer captain, Karina shifts her focus to Y/N, an up-and-coming soccer star with an unexpected breakout season. Unlike the polished Sunghoon, Y/N is more of an outsider who got by on talent but doesn’t fit the typical college elite mold. Realizing that Y/N is the only one who doesn’t care about the social hierarchy, Karina proposes a deal: they’ll fake date so Karina can boost her popularity, while Y/N gets protection from relentless attention. Reluctantly, Y/N agrees, and the two navigate a world of social manipulation, only to find that their fake relationship might lead to something more real than either expected.

The ride home from Karina’s parents’ house felt lighter than Y/N had anticipated. The lingering nerves from the evening had finally dissolved, replaced by a warm sense of belonging. Karina hummed softly along with the radio as she drove, her hand resting comfortably on Y/N’s thigh.

“You were perfect,” Karina said, breaking the peaceful silence. “I knew they’d love you.”

Y/N chuckled, leaning back in her seat. “You think? I was sure I said at least three awkward things.”

“You were charming,” Karina reassured her. “Even when you nearly knocked over the water pitcher.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face. “I was hoping we could forget that.”

“Never,” Karina teased, her eyes glinting with mischief. “It was adorable.”

As the car pulled into Y/N’s building, Karina parked and turned toward her, her expression softening. “I’m really proud of you. I know tonight wasn’t easy.”

Y/N nodded, feeling the weight of Karina’s words. “Thanks. It actually felt… nice. I liked seeing that side of your life.”

“You’ll be seeing more of it,” Karina promised, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear. “You’re stuck with me now.”

Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering at the intimacy of the moment. “I guess I can live with that.”

They lingered for a second longer before Y/N reluctantly opened the car door. Karina followed her out, walking her to the entrance of the building. The air was crisp, the quiet hum of the city night wrapping around them like a soft blanket.

Just as Y/N was about to say goodnight, Karina’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Everything okay?” Y/N asked.

Karina hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. It’s just work stuff. I’ll handle it later.”

Y/N raised a brow. “You sure? You can take it if it’s urgent.”

“It’s nothing that can’t wait,” Karina said quickly, slipping her phone back into her pocket.

Y/N studied her for a moment, sensing something just beneath the surface. But before she could press further, Karina leaned in, capturing Y/N’s lips in a slow, lingering kiss that left no room for questions.

“Goodnight, baby,” Karina whispered against her lips.

“Goodnight,” Y/N replied, her voice barely audible.

She watched Karina walk back to her car, her heart full yet tinged with curiosity. Something about that text felt… off. But she trusted Karina, and if it was important, she’d tell her in time.

The next few days felt normal—almost too normal. They kept up their usual routine: meeting for coffee, texting late into the night, and sharing quiet moments in between classes. But every now and then, Y/N noticed that faraway look in Karina’s eyes, like her mind was somewhere else entirely.

It wasn’t until Friday evening that things started to unravel.

Y/N had invited Karina over for dinner, wanting to spend a quiet night together after a busy week. She was just finishing up cooking when there was a knock on the door. Karina walked in, her expression more tense than usual.

“Hey,” Y/N greeted, wiping her hands on a towel. “Everything okay?”

Karina forced a smile. “Yeah. Just a long day.”

Y/N frowned. “Are you sure? You’ve been a little distracted lately.”

Karina hesitated, her eyes darting away for a brief moment. “It’s just work stuff. Nothing to worry about.”

Y/N crossed her arms, leaning against the counter. “Karina… you know you can talk to me, right? You don’t have to carry everything on your own.”

Karina let out a breath, running a hand through her hair. “I know. I just—” She stopped herself, biting her lip. “It’s not that simple.”

Y/N stepped closer, gently taking Karina’s hands in hers. “It doesn’t have to be simple. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.”

Karina looked at her, conflict swirling in her eyes. “There’s just… a lot going on right now. Work, family stuff—it’s all piling up. I didn’t want to dump it on you.”

Y/N’s grip tightened. “You’re not dumping anything on me. We’re in this together, remember?”

Karina exhaled, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “I know. I’m sorry if I’ve been distant. It’s just been hard to juggle everything lately.”

Y/N nodded, brushing her thumb over Karina’s knuckles. “We’ll get through it. One step at a time.”

For the first time in days, Karina’s smile felt real, not forced. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You bribed me with coffee,” Y/N said with a playful grin.

Karina laughed softly, the tension in the room finally breaking. “Ah, right. My greatest strategy.”

They settled into dinner, the heaviness of the past few days slowly fading into the background. But even as they laughed and talked, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something bigger.

And she was ready—whatever it was, she wasn’t going anywhere.

The weekend passed in a blur, but something about Karina still felt… distant. Y/N tried to shake the thought, telling herself that Karina was just stressed. After all, life could get overwhelming sometimes. It didn’t mean anything deeper was wrong.

Still, the feeling lingered, gnawing at her in the quiet moments.

By Monday, the tension between them was subtle but undeniable. Karina seemed present but distracted, and Y/N could feel herself slipping into her own head, overthinking every little thing. That evening, they had plans to grab dinner at a casual restaurant near campus, but the energy between them was noticeably off.

The restaurant buzzed with life—clinking glasses, laughter, and the smell of fresh food—but Y/N felt like she and Karina were in a bubble of silence.

“You okay?” Y/N asked as they waited for their food, her voice careful but steady.

Karina glanced up from her phone, forcing a small smile. “Yeah, why?”

“You just seem… elsewhere lately,” Y/N said, trying not to sound accusatory. “I’m starting to wonder if something’s wrong and you’re not telling me.”

Karina sighed, placing her phone facedown on the table. “It’s not like that. I’m just handling a lot right now. I didn’t want it to spill over into us.”

“But it is,” Y/N said gently. “You don’t have to go through things alone, Karina. I’m right here. If something’s bothering you, I want to know.”

Karina tapped her fingers on the table, eyes flickering with hesitation. “It’s work,” she admitted. “There’s a project I’m involved in, and it’s complicated. There’s pressure from my team, and I feel like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough.”

Y/N relaxed slightly, relieved that Karina was finally opening up. “Why didn’t you just tell me that from the start?”

“I didn’t want to drag you into my stress,” Karina confessed. “I know you’ve got enough on your plate. The last thing I want is to weigh you down.”

“You’re not weighing me down,” Y/N said firmly. “Relationships are about sharing the load, right? If something’s heavy, we carry it together.”

Karina’s eyes softened, her expression a mix of gratitude and relief. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not easy,” Y/N said with a small laugh. “But you’re worth the effort.”

Their conversation was interrupted when the waiter set their plates down, and the tension seemed to lighten a little more as they dug into their food. Y/N felt like they’d taken a step forward, but she couldn’t help but notice that Karina’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Later that night, Y/N lay in bed, staring at her ceiling. The conversation had gone well—or at least, it had felt like progress—but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more Karina wasn’t saying. Something deeper.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling her out of her thoughts. She grabbed it, smiling softly when she saw Karina’s name on the screen.

Karina: Thank you for tonight. I really needed that.

Y/N: Always. You know I’m here, right? No matter what.

Karina: I know. Sleep well, baby.

Y/N placed her phone back on the nightstand, her heart warm but still slightly uneasy.

She trusted Karina. But trust didn’t always silence the questions.

The next day, Y/N was on her way to meet Karina for coffee when she spotted her standing outside the café… talking to a tall, sharply dressed woman Y/N didn’t recognize. The woman was leaning in close, her hand resting lightly on Karina’s arm as they spoke in hushed tones.

Y/N’s steps slowed, her stomach twisting.

Who was that?

Karina didn’t notice her at first, too engrossed in the conversation. The woman said something that made Karina laugh—a soft, genuine laugh Y/N hadn’t heard in days.

Y/N cleared her throat as she approached, trying to shake off the sudden spike of jealousy rising in her chest.

“Hey,” she greeted, keeping her voice casual.

Karina’s eyes snapped to her, surprise flashing across her face. “Y/N! Hey, I was just—”

The woman beside her turned, offering Y/N a polite smile. “You must be Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Y/N nodded slowly, studying her. “And you are…?”

“Yujin,” the woman said, extending her hand. “I work with Karina.”

Y/N shook her hand, her smile tight. “Nice to meet you.”

Karina shifted on her feet, her eyes darting between Y/N and Yujin. “Yujin was just filling me in on some project updates. Nothing major.”

“Right,” Yujin said with a chuckle. “Nothing major.”

Y/N didn’t miss the way Yujin’s gaze lingered on Karina for a second too long.

“Well, I’ll let you two catch up,” Yujin said, giving Karina a knowing smile before walking off. “See you tomorrow.”

Y/N watched her leave, her chest tightening.

“She seems… friendly,” Y/N said, her tone carefully neutral.

Karina rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah, she’s… helpful. We’ve been working closely on this project. She’s just really involved, that’s all.”

Y/N nodded, trying to push down the doubt bubbling inside her. “Right.”

Karina reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Hey. Don’t overthink it, okay? There’s nothing to worry about.”

Y/N smiled faintly, but the knot in her chest didn’t loosen.

“I’m not worried,” she said softly. But deep down, she wasn’t sure she believed it.

As they walked into the café together, Y/N tried to shake the feeling that something was shifting between them—something she couldn’t quite put her finger on yet.

But one thing was certain: cracks were beginning to form. And sooner or later, those cracks would have to be confronted.

Y/N woke up the next morning feeling heavy, the previous day’s encounter with Yujin replaying over and over in her mind. She tried to dismiss it, telling herself that it was silly to be jealous. Karina had been nothing but honest with her. And yet… something about Yujin didn’t sit right. It wasn’t what was said—it was what wasn’t.

All morning, Y/N’s thoughts lingered on that smile Yujin had given Karina, the familiarity between them. It felt like she was standing on shaky ground, waiting for the cracks beneath her feet to widen.

By the time she met up with Karina for lunch, she’d decided that she needed to talk about it. Not in an accusatory way—just… clear the air.

Karina was already sitting at their usual table in the campus café, scrolling through her phone. When she saw Y/N approach, her face lit up with that familiar smile that had once been enough to calm all of Y/N’s worries.

But not today.

“Hey, you,” Karina greeted, standing to give Y/N a quick hug.

“Hey,” Y/N said, hugging her back before sitting across from her.

They ordered their food, chatting idly about their morning classes, but Y/N could barely focus. The tension in her chest was building, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to push it aside for much longer.

Finally, she took a deep breath. “Karina… can I ask you something?”

Karina set her fork down, tilting her head slightly. “Of course. What’s up?”

“It’s about Yujin,” Y/N said carefully. “I know you said you’ve been working closely with her, but… is there something I should know?”

Karina blinked, her expression unreadable for a moment before she leaned back in her chair. “What do you mean?”

Y/N hesitated. “It’s just… the way she looked at you yesterday. It felt a little more personal than just work. And you seemed caught off guard when I showed up.”

Karina sighed, crossing her arms. “Y/N, there’s nothing going on between me and Yujin. She’s just a colleague. We’ve spent a lot of time together because of this project, and I guess we’ve gotten… close. But not in the way you’re thinking.”

Y/N nodded slowly, trying to absorb her words. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I trust you. It’s just… I’ve seen how people can blur lines when they work together. I guess it made me feel a little insecure.”

Karina leaned forward, resting her hand on Y/N’s. “You have nothing to be insecure about. Yujin is a great coworker, but that’s all she is. You’re the one I want to be with. You’re the one I care about.”

Y/N felt her chest loosen at Karina’s words, but a small part of her still clung to that lingering doubt.

“I believe you,” Y/N said, squeezing Karina’s hand. “I just needed to hear it from you.”

Karina smiled softly. “I get it. And I’ll do better at making sure you feel secure. We’re in this together, okay?”

Y/N nodded, a smile creeping onto her lips. “Okay.”

The following week felt lighter, like they’d turned a corner. Karina was more attentive, texting Y/N throughout the day, making time for little moments just for the two of them. It was exactly what Y/N needed—a reminder that their relationship was strong, built on something real.

But then, one evening, while Y/N was studying in the library, her phone buzzed with a text.

Yujin: Hey, are you free? I need to talk to you about something important.

Y/N froze, staring at the message. Why would Yujin be texting her? They barely knew each other.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she finally replied.

Y/N: Sure. What’s up?

Yujin: Can we meet in person? It’s better if we talk face to face.

Y/N’s heart started to race. Something told her that whatever Yujin had to say, it wasn’t going to be good.

Y/N: Okay. Where do you want to meet?

Yujin: The coffee shop on 5th. See you in 20 minutes.

Y/N grabbed her things, her mind spinning with possibilities. What could Yujin possibly want to talk about?

As she walked to the coffee shop, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a turning point—one that could change everything.

When she arrived, Yujin was already there, sitting at a table near the window. She looked up as Y/N walked in, offering a small, almost hesitant smile.

“Thanks for coming,” Yujin said as Y/N sat down across from her.

“Of course,” Y/N said, folding her hands on the table. “What’s going on?”

Yujin took a deep breath, her eyes serious. “I didn’t want to get involved, but… I think you deserve to know the truth about Karina and me.”

Y/N’s blood ran cold.

“What truth?”

Yujin leaned in slightly, her voice low. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together—too much time. And I think… Karina might have feelings for me.”

The words hit Y/N like a punch to the gut.

“She hasn’t said it outright,” Yujin continued, “but the way she looks at me, the way she confides in me… it’s more than just friendship. I thought you should know before it gets any more complicated.”

Y/N sat there, stunned into silence. Her mind screamed that it wasn’t true, that Karina loved her, that Yujin was just reading into things.

But the doubt she’d buried deep inside was back, louder than ever.

“I thought you should know,” Yujin said again, her eyes filled with something that almost looked like pity.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice. “Thanks for telling me.”

She stood up, barely remembering how she got out of the coffee shop, her thoughts a chaotic mess.

Was it true?

Had she been blind to something that was right in front of her?

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from Karina.

Karina: Miss you. Want to grab dinner later?

Y/N stared at the message, her heart aching. She had a choice to make—confront Karina or walk away without knowing the full story.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N wasn’t sure what the right choice was.

Y/N didn’t reply to Karina’s message. She couldn’t. The weight of Yujin’s words sat in her chest like a stone, suffocating and relentless. The walk back to her apartment felt longer than usual, her thoughts spiraling with questions she didn’t want to answer.

Was Yujin lying? Exaggerating? Or had Y/N truly been naive, ignoring what had been in front of her all along?

Her phone buzzed again. Another text from Karina.

Karina: Everything okay? You’ve been quiet.

Y/N stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. She could just brush it off, pretend everything was fine. But she couldn’t shake the echo of Yujin’s voice. “I think Karina might have feelings for me.”

Instead of replying, Y/N shoved her phone into her pocket and locked her door behind her, sinking onto the couch. Her mind played through every interaction Karina had ever had with Yujin, searching for signs—something she’d missed.

Her breath hitched. There were moments. Fleeting, almost insignificant, but in hindsight… they felt different now. The late nights Karina spent with Yujin at the library. The way Karina’s face lit up when Yujin walked into the room.

Y/N pressed her hands to her face, trying to push the thoughts away, but it was useless.

Hours passed, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting her apartment in shadows. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.

She needed answers.

Her fingers trembled as she typed out a message.

Y/N: Can we talk?

The response came almost immediately.

Karina: Of course. I’ll come over.

It didn’t take long for Karina to arrive. The moment Y/N opened the door, Karina’s face lit up with that familiar warmth. But Y/N couldn’t return the smile.

“Hey,” Karina said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “Is everything okay? You seem off.”

Y/N crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. “I ran into Yujin today.”

Karina blinked, her smile fading. “Oh?”

“She said some interesting things.” Y/N’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that she couldn’t hide. “She told me I deserve to know the truth. About you and her.”

Karina’s eyes widened, her posture stiffening. “Y/N—”

“She said you might have feelings for her,” Y/N continued, cutting Karina off. “That the way you look at her, the way you confide in her… it’s more than just friendship.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Karina opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. That hesitation—that split second of silence—felt like confirmation.

Y/N’s heart broke a little more.

“Is it true?” Y/N asked, her voice barely a whisper. “Do you have feelings for her?”

“No,” Karina said quickly, stepping closer. “It’s not like that. Yujin’s misunderstanding everything. I care about her as a friend, but that’s all. I swear.”

“But she thinks it’s more,” Y/N said bitterly. “Why would she say that if there wasn’t something there? Even just a hint?”

Karina ran a hand through her hair, frustration evident on her face. “I don’t know. Maybe she misinterpreted our closeness. We’ve spent a lot of time together because of the project, but I never gave her a reason to think there was something more.”

Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I don’t know if I can believe you.”

Karina’s face crumbled. “Y/N, please… you have to trust me. You’re the one I love. You’re the one I want to be with. Yujin is just a colleague—nothing more.”

“I want to believe you,” Y/N whispered, her voice cracking. “But right now… I don’t know how to.”

Karina reached for Y/N’s hand, but Y/N pulled back, stepping away. The distance between them felt like a chasm, one neither of them knew how to cross.

“I need some time,” Y/N said quietly. “I can’t think straight right now.”

Karina’s eyes filled with pain, but she nodded. “Okay. Take the time you need. But please… don’t shut me out completely.”

Y/N didn’t respond. She just opened the door, silently asking Karina to leave.

Karina hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching Y/N’s face, before stepping out into the hallway.

“I’m not giving up on us,” Karina said, her voice steady despite the sadness in her eyes. “No matter what.”

Y/N closed the door softly, leaning her forehead against it as soon as it clicked shut.

Her chest felt hollow, her mind a storm of conflicting emotions. She wanted to believe Karina. She wanted to forget Yujin’s words and pretend everything was fine.

But doubt had already taken root, and it wasn’t letting go.

For the first time in her relationship with Karina, Y/N felt like she was standing on the edge of something fragile, something that could break at any moment.

And she wasn’t sure if they would survive the fall.

The days that followed were filled with silence—long stretches of uncertainty that clung to Y/N like a second skin. She kept telling herself she needed time, space to think things through, but every passing minute felt like it was pulling her further from Karina.

Karina’s messages continued to light up her phone, each one more desperate than the last.

Karina: Can we talk?

Karina: Please, Y/N, just tell me what you’re thinking.

Karina: I miss you. I’m scared I’m losing you.

Y/N read each one but never responded. She wasn’t ready—not while Yujin’s voice still echoed in her mind.

Yujin wasn’t done either. Her manipulation was a slow, deliberate poison, seeping into every crack she could find. She played her part flawlessly, twisting the truth to her advantage.

She made sure to be around Karina constantly, using their project as the perfect excuse. She acted supportive, compassionate, always there to offer a shoulder to lean on when Karina seemed worn down.

“You okay?” Yujin asked one evening, sitting next to Karina in the campus lounge, their laptops open but forgotten.

Karina sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Not really. Things with Y/N… it’s complicated.”

Yujin tilted her head, her expression laced with feigned concern. “She hasn’t been talking to you?”

“Barely,” Karina admitted, her voice tight. “She said she needed time, but it’s been days. I don’t know what to do.”

Yujin bit her lip, pretending to hesitate. “Maybe she’s struggling with something deeper. Maybe she’s… scared it won’t work.” She paused for dramatic effect before adding, “Or maybe she’s worried because she feels like you’ve changed. Like… you’re not as sure about her anymore.”

Karina frowned. “Why would she think that?”

Yujin offered a small, apologetic smile. “She told me once she felt like she wasn’t enough for you. I think she’s been holding onto that fear. And with how much time we’ve been spending together… maybe she thinks you’re realizing it too.”

Karina’s eyes darkened with guilt. “No. That’s not true. Y/N’s everything to me. I’ve never doubted us.”

“I know,” Yujin said softly, placing a hand on Karina’s arm. “But sometimes, even when we don’t mean to, we give people reasons to doubt.”

The seed was planted—carefully buried in Karina’s mind, just as it had been in Y/N’s.

The next day, Yujin made sure to reach out to Y/N again.

Yujin: Hey, just checking in. I saw Karina today. She’s been really quiet lately. I think she’s struggling with what she wants.

Y/N: Did she say that?

Yujin: Not exactly… but it’s obvious. I think she’s trying to protect your feelings. She doesn’t want to hurt you.

Y/N’s hands trembled as she read the message. She didn’t know what to believe anymore. Yujin had a way of speaking that made every lie sound like the truth.

Her mind spiraled back to the conversation she had with Karina—the hesitation in Karina’s voice, the way she hadn’t immediately denied Yujin’s claim. Maybe Karina really was struggling with her feelings. Maybe Yujin wasn’t lying after all.

Hours later, Karina showed up at Y/N’s door unannounced. Her face was pale, her eyes filled with a raw mix of exhaustion and sadness.

“I couldn’t stay away,” Karina said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need to know where we stand.”

Y/N crossed her arms, her throat tightening. “Where do we stand, Karina? Because I don’t know anymore. You tell me one thing, and Yujin tells me something else. I feel like I’m being pulled in two different directions, and I don’t know which one to trust.”

Karina’s eyes flashed with anger. “Yujin’s lying to you.”

“Is she?” Y/N shot back, her voice sharp. “Because she seems pretty convinced that you’re unsure about us. That you’ve been confiding in her about things you can’t tell me.”

“I haven’t!” Karina’s frustration boiled over. “Yujin’s twisting everything. She’s manipulating you, Y/N. You’ve known me longer than her—how can you believe her over me?”

“Because I’m scared!” Y/N yelled, the words tearing from her throat. “I’m scared that there’s some truth in what she’s saying. I’m scared that you’ll wake up one day and realize she’s everything you want, and I’m just the person you settled for.”

Karina’s expression shattered, pain written all over her face. “No. No, Y/N, you’re the only person I’ve ever wanted. I love you.”

Y/N’s eyes stung with unshed tears. “Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?”

Karina stepped closer, her voice trembling. “You’re not losing me. But if we let Yujin get between us, if we let her lies destroy what we have, we’ll both lose. Please… trust me.”

Y/N wanted to. God, she wanted to believe Karina with everything she had. But the doubt was still there, a lingering shadow she couldn’t shake.

“I don’t know if I can,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking. “Not right now.”

Karina nodded slowly, swallowing back her own tears. “Then I’ll wait. For as long as it takes. I’ll prove to you that what we have is real. That it’s worth fighting for.”

Y/N watched her go, the sound of the door closing echoing through the apartment like a final note in a tragic symphony.

She sank onto the couch, her heart in pieces. Part of her wanted to chase after Karina, to beg her to stay. But the other part—the part still poisoned by Yujin’s lies—held her back.

And in that moment, Y/N wasn’t sure which part would win.

The distance between Y/N and Karina grew like a canyon—too wide, too deep. Days turned into a blur of silence, and with each one that passed, Y/N felt the weight of everything they hadn’t said suffocating her.

Karina hadn’t messaged since their last conversation, and for once, Y/N was thankful. Every time her phone lit up, she half-expected to see Yujin’s name again, feeding her another dose of doubt. But it didn’t come. Not yet. The quiet was its own kind of torture.

Y/N walked around campus in a daze, pretending she was fine, but her chest felt heavy, and her head swirled with conflicting thoughts. Every corner she turned, she felt like she’d run into Karina—or worse, Karina and Yujin together.

When it finally happened, it hit harder than Y/N had imagined.

They were in the library, sitting side by side at a table near the window. Karina’s head was bent over her laptop, strands of her dark hair falling into her face. Yujin leaned in, close enough that their shoulders touched, saying something that made Karina smile faintly.

The sight twisted in Y/N’s stomach like a knife.

Before she could think it through, she walked toward them. Her footsteps felt heavier with every step, her heart slamming against her ribs.

“Karina,” Y/N said, her voice steady despite the storm in her chest.

Karina’s head snapped up, her eyes widening in surprise. “Y/N.”

Yujin leaned back casually, her gaze shifting between them. “Oh, hey, Y/N. You finally decided to join us.”

“Can we talk?” Y/N asked, ignoring Yujin.

Karina hesitated, glancing at Yujin. The pause was barely noticeable, but it sent a sharp pang through Y/N’s chest.

“Of course,” Karina said, closing her laptop.

They stepped outside, the cold air biting against Y/N’s skin. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Karina stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets, watching Y/N with cautious eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Y/N said, her voice raw. “I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with you spending all this time with her.”

Karina’s brows furrowed. “It’s work, Y/N. You know that.”

“No,” Y/N snapped, her voice rising. “It’s not just work. She’s been feeding me lies—telling me you’re unsure about us, that you have feelings for her. And then I see you with her, and it’s like… maybe she’s right.”

Karina stepped forward, her voice laced with frustration. “She’s not right. Y/N, I’ve told you before—Yujin’s lying to you. Why can’t you see that?”

“Because she says it so convincingly!” Y/N’s voice cracked, her eyes burning. “And I don’t know what’s real anymore. Every time I see you with her, I feel like I’m losing you piece by piece, and it’s killing me.”

Karina’s face softened, her anger melting into something far more painful. “You’re not losing me. Y/N, you’ve never lost me. Yujin is trying to tear us apart because she wants me for herself, but I don’t want her. I’ve never wanted her. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tightening. “Then why does it feel like I’m fighting for something that’s already slipping through my fingers?”

“Because she’s made you believe that,” Karina whispered, stepping even closer. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “But I’m still here, Y/N. I haven’t gone anywhere. And I won’t, unless you push me away.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, tears brimming in her eyes. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Karina said softly, her hand reaching for Y/N’s. “But we’re stronger than this. We’ve been through so much together. Don’t let her win. Don’t let her take this from us.”

Y/N stared at Karina’s hand in hers, her pulse racing. For the first time in days, she felt a sliver of clarity—a reminder of everything they had built, everything they had fought for.

But before she could say anything, the door behind them opened, and Yujin stepped out, her eyes glinting with something dark and unreadable.

“Is everything okay?” Yujin asked, feigning concern, though the slight smirk on her face betrayed her intentions.

Y/N’s grip on Karina’s hand tightened. She turned to Yujin, her voice cold. “Actually, no. It’s not.”

Karina straightened beside her, her eyes blazing. “Yujin, we need to talk. Alone.”

For the first time, Yujin’s confident mask faltered.

Y/N crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. “Yeah, we do. Because it’s time we clear a few things up.”

And just like that, the battle lines were drawn, the air thick with tension. Y/N wasn’t sure where this conversation would lead, but one thing was certain: she was done letting Yujin pull the strings.

It was time to take back control—before it was too late.

The tension in the air was suffocating as Karina and Yujin stood face to face outside the library. Y/N lingered by the door, her heart pounding, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She had trusted Karina to handle this, but the fear of what Yujin might say still clung to her like a shadow.

Karina’s eyes were sharp, her jaw set. “We need to talk—now. No more games, Yujin.”

Yujin tilted her head, her lips curling into a slow, practiced smile. “Games? I think you’re being a bit dramatic. I was just trying to protect you, Karina. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Karina’s expression hardened. “Protect me? You’ve been lying to Y/N. Telling her things you know aren’t true. You’ve been trying to push us apart.”

Yujin crossed her arms, her confidence unwavering. “And why would I do that? What could I possibly gain from it?”

Karina scoffed. “Don’t act innocent. You know exactly what you’re doing. You’ve always been good at manipulating people, twisting things until they break.”

Y/N clenched her fists, stepping forward. Her voice was low but steady, carrying a weight that made Yujin falter for just a second. “You told me Karina had feelings for you, that she was confused. You made me doubt her—doubt us. And for what? To get what you want?”

Yujin’s smirk flickered, her eyes narrowing. “I only told you what I thought you needed to hear. If you were so quick to believe it, maybe that says more about your relationship than it does about me.”

The words hit like a slap to the face, leaving Y/N breathless. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay grounded. “Don’t twist this around. You wanted me to walk away from her. You made it sound like I was holding her back, like she’d be better off with you.”

“And maybe she would be,” Yujin said smoothly, her voice dropping into something almost tender. “Think about it, Y/N. You’ve been doubting her for weeks now. Isn’t that exhausting? Isn’t it easier to just… let go?”

Karina stepped between them, her voice shaking with anger. “Enough, Yujin. I love her. I’ve always loved her. Nothing you say is going to change that.”

Yujin’s smile faltered, the mask slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of hurt. For the first time, her confidence wavered. “I was just trying to show you what you could have, Karina. Someone who understands your world, who won’t hold you back.”

Karina’s eyes blazed. “What I want is Y/N. And I’ll fight for her, no matter how hard you try to come between us.”

Yujin opened her mouth to respond, but Y/N stepped in, her voice sharp. “You’ve done enough damage. Stay out of our lives, Yujin. I won’t let you poison this anymore.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of the confrontation settling around them like heavy fog. Yujin’s face twisted in frustration, her eyes flicking between Y/N and Karina before she turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd.

Karina let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging with the release of tension. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I should’ve seen what she was doing sooner. I should’ve protected you from this.”

Y/N shook her head, her throat tight. “It’s not your fault. I should’ve trusted you more. I let her get inside my head.”

Karina stepped closer, cupping Y/N’s face gently, her eyes filled with regret. “We’ve both made mistakes. But I don’t want to lose you—not over her, not over anything.”

Y/N felt the tears spill over, but she didn’t pull away. “You won’t. I’m still here.”

Karina leaned her forehead against Y/N’s, her voice barely a whisper. “Promise me we’ll fight for this. For us.”

Y/N closed her eyes, nodding slowly. “I promise.”

They stood like that for a long moment, clinging to each other as if the world could crumble around them at any second. The storm wasn’t over—not by a long shot. But for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N felt steady, anchored by Karina’s unwavering presence.

Whatever came next, they would face it together.

And this time, they wouldn’t let anyone tear them apart.

The aftermath of Yujin’s lies wasn’t the dramatic explosion Y/N expected. It wasn’t some sudden, clean resolution. Instead, it was an unrelenting ache—one that seeped into everything she did, coloring every word she spoke to Karina and every glance they exchanged.

It had been days since the confrontation with Yujin. Days since the air between Y/N and Karina had shifted into something heavy and unfamiliar. There were no more accusations or harsh words, but there also wasn’t the same ease that used to come naturally between them. Their conversations were polite but guarded, their touches cautious.

Y/N felt like she was walking a tightrope, afraid to say the wrong thing and break whatever fragile peace they had left. And every time Karina’s phone buzzed, her stomach twisted into knots. Even though Yujin was no longer in the picture, the damage she left behind lingered.

It’s not like I can undo it, Y/N thought bitterly one night as she stared at the ceiling of her bedroom. I can’t unhear what she said. I can’t forget the way she made me feel.

The worst part wasn’t that Yujin had lied. It was that some part of Y/N believed her. Believed that maybe, just maybe, Karina deserved something better. Something easier.

The next evening, Y/N decided she couldn’t sit with her thoughts anymore. She needed to see Karina—to talk to her before the doubts consumed her entirely. She grabbed her jacket and left without even thinking to check the weather. The rain started halfway to Karina’s place, soaking through her clothes, but she didn’t care. She needed answers more than she needed to stay dry.

When Karina opened the door and saw Y/N standing there, dripping wet, her eyes immediately filled with concern. “Y/N? What are you doing here? You’re soaked!”

“I couldn’t stay home,” Y/N said, her voice barely steady as she stepped inside. “I’ve been going out of my mind, Karina. I need to talk to you.”

Karina shut the door behind her, worry etched into her face. “Of course. Come here.” She reached for Y/N’s arm, guiding her to the couch and wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. “You’re freezing.”

Y/N sat down but didn’t relax. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor, her fingers clutching the blanket. “I thought I was okay after what happened with Yujin. I thought once she was out of the picture, things would go back to normal.” She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But they haven’t.”

Karina sat beside her, her heart sinking at the pain in Y/N’s voice. “I know,” she admitted softly. “I feel it too.”

Y/N glanced at her, startled by the confession. “You do?”

Karina nodded, folding her hands together. “I thought if we just moved on, if we didn’t talk about it too much, things would fix themselves. But… I’ve been scared too. Yujin’s words got to me, Y/N. Not because I believed her, but because she made me realize how fragile this feels sometimes. I hate that she planted those doubts in your head. I hate that she made you question us.”

Y/N blinked back tears, her voice cracking. “She didn’t just plant doubts, Karina. She made me believe that I’m not enough for you. That one day, you’ll wake up and realize it’s easier to be with someone like her—someone who understands your world without needing you to explain it.”

Karina’s breath hitched. “No. Don’t say that. That’s not true, Y/N. It’s never been true.” She reached for Y/N’s hand, holding it tightly. “You’re not just enough for me—you’re everything to me. Do you hear me? Everything.”

“But what if I can’t shake it?” Y/N whispered, her eyes filled with uncertainty. “What if this feeling never goes away?”

Karina’s throat tightened, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She cupped Y/N’s face, her touch firm yet tender. “Then we fight it. Together. Every day, if we have to. I don’t care how long it takes—I’m not letting you go because of something Yujin said.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she leaned into Karina’s touch. “I want to believe that. I want us to be stronger, but it’s so hard. It feels like… like I’m constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Karina nodded slowly, her own fears surfacing. “I know. I feel that too sometimes. But we have to trust each other. We can’t let someone like Yujin take that from us. I love you, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care how messy or complicated this gets—we’ll figure it out.”

The words settled into Y/N’s chest, soothing but not erasing the ache completely. Still, they felt like a lifeline, something to hold onto in the storm. She nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay. No more pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. No more running from this.”

Karina smiled through her tears, pressing a soft kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “No more running.”

The rain continued to fall outside, the sound filling the quiet spaces between their words. They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for a long time, the tension slowly ebbing away, replaced by something more fragile but no less real—hope.

It wouldn’t be easy. The wounds Yujin left wouldn’t heal overnight, and the shadows of doubt would linger for a while. But they were still here. Still holding on. Still fighting.

And for now, that was enough.

But deep down, they both knew this wasn’t the end of the storm. It was only the beginning of learning how to weather it together.

The following days were a delicate dance—filled with cautious words and fleeting touches that left Y/N feeling more disconnected from Karina than ever before. Even though they had agreed to face things together, there was an invisible wall between them, one neither dared to fully acknowledge yet.

Y/N spent most of her time at her own place, giving herself space to breathe, to think. But thinking only made things worse.

Trust her, Y/N reminded herself repeatedly. She loves you. She chose you.

Yet Yujin’s words had left a permanent scar on her thoughts, looping over and over like a haunting refrain.

The silence between texts grew longer. The once-effortless conversations felt forced, every word weighed down with unspoken tension. Y/N told herself it was just a phase, something they’d push through—but deep down, the doubt clawed at her.

It all came to a head one cold evening when Y/N found herself outside Karina’s apartment, heart racing and fingers trembling. She hadn’t planned to come—her feet had carried her there before her brain could catch up. I just need to see her, she thought. Maybe that’ll make it better.

Karina opened the door, surprised but smiling softly. “Hey. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Hey,” Y/N replied, her voice tight. “I… I needed to see you.”

Karina stepped aside, letting her in. The warmth of the apartment contrasted sharply with the icy air outside, but it did little to ease Y/N’s nerves.

They stood there for a moment, the tension thick between them.

Karina broke the silence first. “Do you want some tea or something?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, I just… I need to talk to you.”

Karina nodded slowly, her expression shifting into something more serious. She gestured to the couch, and they both sat down, the space between them feeling vast despite the proximity.

“What’s on your mind?” Karina asked gently, but Y/N could see the worry in her eyes.

Y/N took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet Karina’s gaze. “I thought I was okay. I thought we could push past what happened with Yujin, but… I’m struggling. I hate admitting that, but it’s true.”

Karina’s brow furrowed. “I know. I’ve been feeling it too. But we’ll get through it, Y/N. We’ve already talked about this.”

“I know we talked about it,” Y/N said, her voice rising slightly. “But talking doesn’t magically make it go away. I still feel like I’m constantly second-guessing everything—every time you’re late to reply, every time you say you’re busy with work, I can’t help but wonder…”

“Wonder what?” Karina asked, her voice quieter now, almost trembling.

“If you’re having second thoughts,” Y/N whispered. “If she was right. If deep down, part of you realizes I’m not the right person for you.”

Karina’s face fell, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Y/N… no. That’s not true. How many times do I have to tell you that? I’m with you because I love you. Not her. Never her.”

“I want to believe that,” Y/N said, her voice cracking. “I really do. But you don’t know what it’s like to live with that voice in your head constantly telling you you’re not enough. And now, thanks to Yujin, that voice is louder than ever.”

Karina reached for Y/N’s hand, gripping it tightly. “Then let me help you silence that voice. You’re not in this alone, Y/N. You never have been.”

Y/N looked down at their intertwined hands, tears blurring her vision. “I’m scared, Karina. I’m scared this is going to break us. I’m scared I’ll never stop feeling like this.”

Karina’s voice shook with emotion as she spoke. “I’m scared too. But if we let that fear control us, we’re giving Yujin exactly what she wanted. We can’t let her win, Y/N. We can’t let her take away what we have.”

Y/N nodded, biting her lip to hold back a sob. “I just… I don’t know how to stop feeling this way.”

Karina leaned closer, her forehead resting against Y/N’s. “We’ll figure it out. Even if it takes time. Even if we stumble along the way. You’re worth it to me, Y/N. Every messy, complicated part of this is worth it.”

For the first time in days, Y/N felt a glimmer of hope pierce through the darkness. She wrapped her arms around Karina, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Karina’s fingers stroked her hair softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’re not perfect. But we don’t have to be. We just have to keep choosing each other. No matter how hard it gets.”

The tears finally spilled over as Y/N buried her face in Karina’s shoulder. It wasn’t a solution. It wasn’t an instant fix. But it was something—a promise to try, to fight for what they had, even when it felt impossible.

They stayed like that for a long time, tangled together on the couch as the city buzzed quietly outside the window.

It wasn’t the ending Y/N had hoped for. But it wasn’t an ending at all. It was just another step—painful, messy, but real.

And for now, that was enough.

[gangstalkerbarbie]

You're not a god, technically. A god is one of them big ones, the extraterrestrials, see?

You, like everything else in the world, were born here; your beginning is not before time and outside the world. Not a god. You're a daimon. It's a common misconception.

Still, in the space of that misconception there's honest work.

You're not sure the council upstairs (if it's even a council anymore) pays much attention to most of mortalkind, really, otherwise there wouldn't have to be witches to do work scholars are jealous of, but doesn't someone have to?

Sometimes the ones that do enough of it become angels. Sometimes the ones that do something better than anyone else become... well, just what is Silence, actually? Is that still what he goes by? When he was Death All-Devouring he had a few more teeth, you think.

Anyway: when official channels fatfinger a prayer, you have to know, and it's just sort of the case, ethically speaking, that you're to do something about it. Even if only to keep up the illusion that the world-machine works. That's kind of a duty incumbent on all of you immortals, these days. Just until the big boss ... well, the big boss cannot be said to ever be doing or thinking or going to do or think anything, so you're not sure where that was going.

And that's why you're here at this wedding — because a hundred, two hundred years ago they realised the big kahuna might not be listening, deep down, somewhere, and so now you are the wight of the marriage bed. Some say the angel. They're not sure. You're not sure either; you have perhaps a dot more free will than angels tend to, but you find yourself doing a lot of angelic kinda work.

Is the Immanence here, like She's supposed to be? Doctrinally (you are a daimon, you don't really care about doctrine outside the mechanics of your own existence) She doesn't fuck with mixed marriages, but She also conveniently is present every time two men talk about lofty matters, yes, even if they're talking objectively heinous anti-sense about women and children and beasts. So, you know. It's kind of touch and go here. Is mixed marriage more bad than womanhatred? Very important scholars debate the issue even now. Six thousand years of debate have yielded the answer 'yeah idk probably'. You cannot perceive the Immanence. You wouldn't know.

You do, however, know the future, and in the next thousand years, thankfully, they will perfect the shaping arts and learn to make men into women, and maybe they'll all be women then, what the hell. It's an optimistic thought. The other immortals kind of snicker at you and tell you to go look forward at what they do with chymics, self-made new forms of life, in that future, and what they themselves go mad with pain and grief and loneliness and do, for which reason you kind of don't want to.

You might go and listen in on some of those last debates instead, except, again: wedding.

To your profound disappointment, this wedding expects to make you co-in-laws, sort of, with a small unfriendly god, one of the daimons that really believes in it, waves their essence around. This is... about to get really annoying.

You actually don't even dislike Sowulo. Everything you know about them boils down to the fact that they've been experimenting with themself after their mortal followers degendered them — that's the trouble with the overreliant ones, the essence moulds to the understanding of the souls they shepherd and then you end up in no end of annoying circumstances. This would be why personally you've never investigated what gender you're supposed to be. Less for your people to contradict that way. Maybe you predate gender, how's that for a thought exercise? (You don't; you were born in the middle of the Age of Chitin; they don't have to know you're something smaller and duller wearing an old god's pelt.)

And, well, it's just... they're a little weird? OK. They're a lottle weird. You are pretty sure they are, like, super mega ultra weird. The situation is like this: their people, their little guys, they used to be these peaceful cattle nomads. Then the Aeon of Sails and the Great Industrialisation, and the dire circumstances that led them into the ghettos, and so on — and somewhere in that transition, the travelling spirit of the warmth of the sun that was their constant companion came into conflict with the new State doctrine that the stars are unfeeling miasmas of incandescent plasma. (Is that doctrine? That's how you understand most things. You're not sure of the semantics.)

So now: degendered, deprived of influence, a cold light, not a warm one. Invoked, at best, at afterbirth burials, confirmations, weddings, cremations, premarital haircuttings, housewarmings, slaughters, and for the end of winter when it dies under their hand. They're annoying and dangerous and haggard and raw-voiced as a hungry buzzard because they are starving, because they have lost themself, because they don't remember what they used to be and they don't know what they want to be now.

Sometimes a ship launches from the harbour of this city, and you are there because you have one of your people to look after, and they look out at you from shore, forlorn, jealous, abandoned, so hungry. So hungry. Mourning something they half remember, something they are convinced you have. That's why they incite their sophonts to kill yours, maybe. You wouldn't know. You've never asked. You're busy doing your job, keeping those sophonts safe.

They envy you your vitality. They wish they knew what they were. They think you know what you are, and they want you to get off your inconceivably tall high horse.

You're not on a high horse. You just are, and you try to make sure your sophonts can just be, too. But Sowulo doesn't know that.

Sowulo knows that their people are small and broken and scattered, and that each wedding with any other people weakens them — weakens the people and weakens their god.

Sowulo hates you.

And, like, you don't really play favourites, all mortals are the same to you deep down, but you understand that there is a Teensy Weensy little problem, perhaps, with the favourite son of their most warlike clan's Great Chanter running away from home to elope with a witch-midwife from beyond the Pale. Not because she's yours, but that doesn't make it better. Her own huntedness and fear and old pain doesn't do anything for the situation either. Sowulo doesn't understand yet that suffering is a universal condition of settled life.

Your marriage priest, a jolly little roundish woman in veils against the interference of spirits with her work, pounds her cowhide drum and begins her chant. Sowulo's shakes his solar rattle, completely unaware that his god is seething in the rafters of the fane. Are you going to have to save his life, then, before the sun is up? This is going to be a very long, unnecessarily laborious, and probably also very interesting night.

You are a god whose most devout follower is marrying your rival God’s follower. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem except you both are asked to bless the union, and for that both of you must attend.

[hazydoe]

Buffalo 66

Warning +18 only kidnapping, non-consensual situations,sexual content,emotional manipulation,sex lol,extortion, jail,daddy kink , age-gap.

Note:I was inspired by Buffalo 66, it's one of my favorite movies, and one of the ones I talk about the most in my classes as a film student n Happy Valentine's Day ❤️

English is not my first language so I apologize in advance if I make a mistake

Joel wasn’t good with words. He never had been. But now, more than ever, he needed someone—and above all, he needed money to start over. And there you were, at the wrong time, or perhaps the right one. He saw you leaving the store, wearing that light blue dress and carrying a brown paper bag in your hand, a faint smile on your lips. He didn’t know why he chose you. Maybe it was because you seemed kind, or maybe because you were the first person he saw. It didn’t matter. Joel needed something, someone, and you were there.

He approached you with quick steps, his breathing uneven from the anxiety consuming him. He didn’t have a weapon, not even a convincing threat. All he had were his clumsy, desperate words.

“I need you to come with me,” he said, his voice rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in days.

You stopped, looking at him with a mix of surprise and fear. Your eyes widened slightly, and you took a step back, clutching the bag to your chest like a shield.

“What? No, I’m not going with you,” you said, your voice trembling but firm.

Joel felt a knot in his stomach. He hadn’t expected you to resist. He hadn’t thought about that. But he couldn’t give up. Not now. He had just gotten out of prison, and he needed money.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “I just need… I need you to come with me. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Your eyes scrutinized him, searching for any sign of a lie, of danger. Joel didn’t know what you were seeing, but he hoped it was something that would make you change your mind. For a moment, he thought you’d leave, that you’d scream for help or just run away. But you didn’t. Instead, you stayed there, looking at him, as if you were trying to understand him.

“Why?” you finally asked, your voice soft but cautious. “Why me?”

Joel didn’t have a good answer. He didn’t have any answer, really. He just knew he couldn’t be alone. Not again.

“Because… because I don’t have anyone else, and I need something,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

There was an uncomfortable silence as you studied him. Joel didn’t know what you were thinking, but he was sure you’d leave, that you’d decide it wasn’t worth risking yourself for a stranger. But you didn’t. Instead, you nodded slowly, as if you’d decided to give him a chance.

“I don’t have money,” you said. “I work as a waitress and barely make ends meet.” Joel’s anxiety spiked—it was worse than kidnapping a defenseless girl, kidnapping her and getting nothing in return.

Joel nodded, thinking of the quickest solution: getting rid of you or finding some way to profit from you. He didn’t know if you were incredibly brave or just naive, but it didn’t matter. He led you to his car, an old sedan that smelled like cigarettes and desperation. He didn’t say a word as he drove, his hands gripping the wheel as if it were the only thing keeping him sane. You didn’t speak either, but you didn’t seem comfortable. You sat there, staring out the window, your hands clenched in your lap, as if you were ready to bolt at any moment.

“Where are we going?” you finally asked, breaking the silence.

“To a motel,” Joel replied evasively. “I just… need a place to think.”

It wasn’t an answer, but you didn’t press further. Instead, you leaned back in the seat, as if trying to calm yourself. Joel couldn’t understand you. Why weren’t you screaming? Why weren’t you trying to escape? It was as if you’d decided to trust him, even if just a little.

They arrived at the motel, a cheap, rundown place on the outskirts of the city. Joel parked the car and looked at you, as if expecting you to resist again. But you simply got out of the car and followed him to the room, a mix of fear and determination in your eyes.

The room was as depressing as he was: an unmade bed, a flickering lamp, and a musty smell that clung to the air. Joel sat on the edge of the bed, running his hands over his face. He didn’t know what to do now. He hadn’t planned this. He hadn’t planned anything.

“Why did you bring me here?” you asked, standing near the door, as if ready to run at any moment.

Joel didn’t answer right away. He didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling, the desperation consuming him, the need to have someone, anyone, by his side.

“I needed someone,” he finally murmured, his voice barely audible. “And you were there.”

There was another silence, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if both of you understood that this didn’t make sense, but it didn’t matter. Joel looked at you, and for the first time in a long time, he felt something other than emptiness.

“What now?” you asked, a mix of fear and curiosity in your voice.

Joel thought for a moment before speaking. “Do you have family?” he asked.

“They live outside the city and don’t have much money. They live off government checks,” you replied.

Joel stood up in frustration. It had all been for nothing. He could go back to prison for kidnapping a girl, even if only for a short time.

You approached him slowly, as if trying not to scare him. Joel looked at you, confused but grateful. He didn’t know what you were doing, but he didn’t want you to stop. You sat on the bed, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You were just there, in silence, sharing the weight of the world.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” Joel murmured, his voice breaking. “Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked, his patience wearing thin.

“Yes, but I don’t think he’d pay much for me,” you replied, placing a hand on his.

Joel looked at your hand as if he didn’t know what to do with it. But then, slowly, his fingers intertwined with yours. His hand was cold, but there was a spark of warmth in his touch, as if something in him was still alive.

“Call him,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you leaned closer to him, until your lips met his in a soft but meaningful kiss. Joel didn’t know if this was real, if you were real, but in that moment, he didn’t care. Because, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel alone. And that was enough.

Joel couldn’t believe what he was about to do. The line between desperation and madness had blurred completely, and now, there you were, sitting on the motel bed, phone in hand, with your boyfriend on the other end of the line. He watched you, his dark eyes filled with a mix of guilt and desire, as he approached slowly, like a predator who knew he had his prey exactly where he wanted it.

“Tell him I have you,” Joel whispered, his voice rough but laced with an intensity that made you shiver. “Tell him if he wants to see you again, he’ll have to pay.”

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, Joel thought you might refuse. But then, you nodded slowly, bringing the phone to your ear. Your hands trembled slightly as you dialed the number, and Joel couldn’t help but notice how you bit your lower lip, a gesture that betrayed your nervousness.

“Hi,” you said into the phone, your voice soft but clear. “It’s me. I’m… I’m okay, but I need you to do something for me.”

Joel moved closer, his hands finding your waist as you spoke to your boyfriend. You felt your body tense under his touch, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you kept talking, your voice trembling but firm.

“Yes, he wants money,” you continued, your eyes fixed on Joel. “I don’t know how much, but… please, do it. I don’t want him to hurt me.”

Joel felt a knot in his stomach as he heard your words, but he didn’t stop. His hands slid over your body, exploring every curve with a mix of desire and possessiveness. He looked at you, searching for some sign of rejection, but he didn’t find it. Instead, he saw something in your eyes that made him keep going: a surrender, an acceptance of what was about to happen.

“Tell him how much,” Joel murmured, his lips brushing your ear as you spoke. “Tell him he has an hour.”

Your words faltered slightly as Joel began to slide his hands under your dress, his fingers finding the soft skin of your thighs. You felt your breathing quicken, your body responding to his touch despite the situation. Joel wasn’t giving you a choice, but you didn’t seem to want to stop him either.

“Yes, one hour,” you repeated into the phone, your voice now more shaky. “Please, hurry.”

When you hung up the phone, Joel didn’t give you time to think. His lips found yours in a slow but passionate kiss, his hands exploring every inch of your body as if they were territories to conquer. You let yourself go, your own hands finding his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Don’t resist,” Joel murmured, his voice heavy with desire. “You know you don’t want to.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you gave in to the sensation, to the intensity of the moment. Joel explored you with his hands, every touch filled with a tenderness he didn’t know he possessed. Your soft moans urged him on, driving him to lose himself in you, in the feeling that, for a moment, he wasn’t alone.

Joel sat near the head of the bed, his gaze lifting to meet yours. He looked at you the way a hunter looks at his prey. “Take off that dress,” he said, watching you intently.

You pulled at the sleeves of your light blue dress and slowly slid it down, stepping out of your silver ballet flats. All you had on was a simple blue lingerie set, a gift from your boyfriend for Valentine’s Day.

“Come here, doll. Sit on daddy’s lap,” he said. You moved closer and sat on his lap, feeling how hard he was beneath you.

He grabbed your waist and unhooked your bra, cupping your breasts in his rough hands. “Your breasts are beautiful, so soft. Your boyfriend’s an idiot. He’s paying for me to fuck you, and here you are, taking off the dress and lingerie he probably gave you for Valentine’s Day.”

He slid your panties off, and you unzipped his worn-out jeans. He pulled down his boxers, and you saw his hard member—it was big and thick. You’d never been with anyone but your boyfriend.

“Ride me, sweetheart,” he said, noticing your hesitation. “Come on, do it, baby. Ride me.”

You climbed onto him, feeling the coarse hair on his legs and his rough hands gripping your waist.

You moved on him, your eyes locked on his face—weathered by time and age, his beard, every detail of him. You could see the pleasure in his expression. He had chosen you. He could have kidnapped any other girl, but he chose you. (I don’t know why, but this made me laugh.)

You moved as best as you could, his size making it challenging. You could feel your breaths quickening.

“Come on, baby, I know you can do better than that. I haven’t been bad to you. I think I deserve it,” Joel said, his words only motivating you to move more. He watched you from below, occasionally spanking you and smiling.

You let out a loud moan of pleasure as you rode him more recklessly. After a moment, you felt him grip your waist tightly and release inside you.

“You’re such a good girl for daddy. You made me come so good,” Joel said as he lifted you off him. His seed dripped out of you.

Joel held you, his strong arms wrapping around you in an embrace that seemed to say more than his words ever could. He didn’t know how he had gotten to this point, but in that moment, he didn’t care. Because, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel alone.

“Don’t go,” he murmured, his voice heavy with vulnerability. “I don’t want to let you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied, curling up against him. “I’m here.”

But reality soon caught up with them. The phone rang, and Joel knew it was time to collect his reward. He dressed quickly, avoiding your gaze as he left the room. He didn’t want to see you go, but he knew he had no other choice.

When he returned, money in hand, he found you sitting on the bed, looking at him with those eyes that seemed to see him for who he truly was: a broken man, lost in his own despair.

“What are you going to do now?” you asked, your voice soft but filled with concern.

Joel didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t have a plan, no place to go. But for the first time in a long time, he felt that maybe, just maybe, things could get better.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, sitting down beside you.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you took his hand and squeezed it firmly, as if you were trying to tell him that, despite everything, he wasn’t alone.

[captain-huggy-bear]

How does Jack ask you to be his valentine ?

Oh he's a sweetheart but also pretty conventional as well. I think he goes with your standard ideas of flowers, and chocolates, probably turning up at your door on the day itself because that's traditional and he just smirks and asks. The sort of lazy confidence in him that says he knows you're going to say yes, that it would be impossible for you to say no.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

It's still new, this thing you have with Jack, early days as it were. Not quite boyfriend and girlfriend yet, but not just two strangers who've been on a singular date either. Talking wasn't the right term and dating was maybe closer to it, figuring out whether this was going to be something long term or just a drop in the ocean. So you didn't really expect anything from him on Valentine's day, especially not when he'd said he had a game that night and wouldn't be able to take you out in the evening like he wanted to. You'd accepted that because at the end of the day you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to the very first date with him. Hockey meant things wouldn't always go as expected, not all events would be commemorated. It also wasn't a given considering the early nature of your relationship.

It's why you're not expecting it when your front door bell rings and you're certainly not expect to look through your peephole to see Jack Hughes standing on the other side in a suit and tie holding what might be the largest bouquet of pink roses you'd ever seen. So large that they'd block out his entire head and shoulders if he held them upright.

"Jack?" You open the door to him, feeling decidedly underdressed in your casual everyday clothes when compared with Jack and his suit. The black one that he's matched with a black tie like he's going to a formal event rather than standing in front of your house on the 14th February in the cold.

"Hey..." The smile he gives you is nearly a smirk, that confidence that first drew you to him, firmly in place. His hair has grown longer at the moment, nearly reaching his shoulders, tucked behind his ears.

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at the rink for morning skate...?"

"Already been, decided this was more important than my post practice nap." It makes you feel warm all over, the way he says that so easily, like it's a given that seeing you is more important than his routines and rituals, things you know hockey players hold dear to their hearts.

"Oh?"

"Here," He hands you the bouquet that takes up your entire arm space, larger than a toddler and smelling sweetly of rose. He'd picked the scented roses, ones that smell strongly too a little detail that you can't help but take note of. "I picked the pink ones, thought it'd be a little less cliché."

You can't help the soft smile you give him because it really is sweet and unexpected. More romantic than any of your past boyfriends had ever been and he's not even in a relationship with you yet.

"They're lovely, Jack...you really didn't have to..." You feel bad knowing you hadn't expected anything and so hadn't got anything for him.

"I wanted to. I can't exactly ask you to be my valentine without flowers now, can I, angel?" Your positive reception of the flowers has him relaxing further, a smile turning into a smirk, leaning closer to you, arm leaning against your door frame. The invasion of your personal space makes you nervous in the best sort of way, giddy.

"You want to be my valentine?" You can't actually remember the last time you were actually asked to be someone's valentine...it makes butterflies flutter about in your stomach.

"Sweetheart, who else would I ask?"

You shrug, pursing your lips as you look up at him from under your lashes, all of a sudden unsure and lacking confidence because neither of you ever said you were only seeing each other. That you were exclusive. While you certainly weren't seeing any other guys, it would make sense for someone like Jack, popular and famous, to have a whole roster of girls waiting on him. It wouldn't surprise you if he had other girls he was testing the waters with, figuring out who was the best fit.

He seems to sense that your thoughts have gone that way, or maybe he just has good timing.

"You're the only girl I'm seeing and the only one I want to see, angel...I've not gone on a date with anyone else since before our first one." He doesn't like that it's clearly shocking to you, the way you look up him like he's just given you the world. Jack thinks it should be obvious to you that he's all in, that he's completely taken with you and has been since the first date. He's only waiting to ask you to be his girlfriend because he knows you need a little more time, not because he's not ready or doesn't want to.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Why waste my time with anyone else? They wouldn't be you." It's simply really. You're perfect for him. You're kind, you're caring, pretty and smart. You're understanding of his schedule and his moods. You get along with Luke and you treat him like Jack, just Jack. Not Jack Hughes, hockey superstar. Why waste his time on girls who fawn and giggle over his title, his status but don't really like him for him?

"Jack..."

He diffuses some of the heavy tension with his next question, not wanting to make things too serious too fast, not wanting you to feel pressure to respond in kind, "You still haven't answered my question. Will you be my valentine?"

"Yes, I'll be your valentine." You smile up at him all giddy and sweet and he wants to kiss you all over your cheeks, lift you until you're giggling uncontrollably, but he controls himself. Jack has to remind himself you're not his girlfriend yet, he's trying to take this slow, easy for you, a love confession might be a bit much 3 months in.

"Good because we have a lunch date, so go get changed into something nice." Not that you don't look nice, you always look nice, but he knows you'll feel self conscious if he takes you into a nice restaurant in casual clothes while he's in a full suit and tie.

"A lunch date?"

"Well, I can't take you out for dinner because of the game, but I figured lunch would work?" Your hesitation has Jack questioning himself, starting to second guess if this was a good idea, maybe you already had plans, "Or...you don't have to, we can stay here or...or I can go?"

"No, no! Lunch sounds...it sounds perfect."

The smile you receive is enough. It's more than enough, you think you might just do anything to be on the receiving end of that smile.