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jincapableoflove · 3 months ago

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A Jar Full of Us | one-shot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: best friend! jungkook, best friend! reader, college! au, unrequited love (?), idiots to lovers, best friends to ??? to lovers, angst, fluff, implied smut.

Summary: You never meant for him to find them. Hundred little confessions, folded away, never meant to be read. But now, they’re in his hands. And Jungkook—your best friend—knows everything. But he doesn’t say a word. He just watches you, with that same unreadable expression, like he’s waiting for something. And this Valentine’s Day, you might just have to find out what.

Inspired by: To All the Boys I've Loved Before

Word count: 10.2K+

Warnings: arguments, jungkook is a jerk, misunderstandings (a lottt of it), angstttt, reader and jk are huge idiots, mutual pining, implied smut (its not too detailed so that the story maintains the emotional connectivity), romantic intimacy, tooth-rotting fluff.

MOODBOARD

A/N: HERE IT ISSS! this is the longest fic ive written! tysm for all the support yall have given me in the teaser of this fic. i put out a taglist thinking no one would actually want to be a part of it but so many of yall asked to be tagged 😭 im so grateful! tysm i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writng it. lmk ur thoughts abt it after u read too <3 ALSO HAPPY VALENTINES DAYYY (someone date me pls)

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the dorm, kicking off your shoes with a tired sigh. The evening air still clings to your skin, carrying traces of laughter and the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence.

It had been another perfect night—one filled with inside jokes, stolen bites of each other’s food, and his usual exasperated attempts to get you to study.

Joy, your roommate, is nowhere in sight, giving you the solitude you need. You don’t hesitate. Your steps are purposeful as you cross the room, crouching down beside your bed. With practiced ease, you reach under the frame, fingers brushing against the familiar surface of a small pink, heart-shaped box. You pull it out carefully, as if it were a fragile secret, and place it on your lap.

A soft breath escapes you as you grab a nearby pen and a book, neatly tearing out a tiny slip of paper. The motion is second nature now. Without even thinking, you let your emotions spill onto the paper, crafting a fleeting moment into something permanent.

Tonight’s memory is simple, but it still tugs at your heart. Jungkook had sent you another blurry picture of the moon, captioned with a casual, “Looks kinda pretty, right?” He knew how much you loved the moon—how it fascinated you in a way you could never quite put into words. And he had remembered. Of course, he had remembered.

A fond smile tugs at your lips as you write:

Jungkook remembers the little things.

Once the ink dries, you fold the note with care and add it to the collection. The box is almost full now, brimming with countless tiny confessions—whispers of feelings you’ve never had the courage to say aloud. A hundred little moments, a hundred little thoughts, all dedicated to the boy who had unknowingly stolen your heart.

Jungkook.

Jungkook, your best friend, who always saves you the last bite of his food, even when it’s his favorite. Jungkook, who sends you blurry pictures of the moon just because he knows you love them. Jungkook, who insists on studying with you, despite his major being entirely different from yours, just so he can make sure you actually open a book instead of procrastinating.

This little tradition of yours had started as a joke. One night, after an especially soft moment where Jungkook had wordlessly placed his hoodie over your head because you were shivering, you had scribbled on a piece of paper: Jungkook is warmer than the sun.

You had smiled to yourself as you rolled up the paper and dropped it into the box. It had felt oddly nice—preserving that moment, capturing the feeling of it in something tangible. So you did it again. And again. And again.

Until, one day, you realized you had written over a hundred of them.

You hadn’t meant to fall in love. And you certainly hadn’t planned to confess.

But each tiny slip of paper holds a truth your heart refuses to say aloud.

And you're going to keep it a secret forever.

You met Jungkook almost three years ago, during freshman year. The first time you met him, he had been infuriatingly kind.

You had been struggling under the weight of a precariously tall stack of books, barely able to see over them, when suddenly, a few disappeared from the top. Startled, you looked up to see Jungkook grinning at you, effortlessly holding the books you had nearly dropped.

"You looked like you were about to tip over," he teased, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement.

With a playful huff, you had responded, "Maybe I wanted it to tip over."

Jungkook had only laughed, shaking his head. "I'll catch you next time," he had promised.

That night, you had written a tiny note and slipped it into your box: He wants to catch me when I fall, even without me asking.

From that moment on, your friendship grew in ways you hadn’t even noticed at first. Midnight walks and late-night study sessions became routine, pulling you closer together with every shared moment. What had started as swapping notes for the one class you had together turned into sharing secrets. Somewhere along the way, before you even realized it, Jungkook had become your favorite person.

The box was almost full now.

You had written so many things over the years, each note capturing a small piece of him, a fragment of your feelings. Some were simple observations:

Jungkook frowns when he eats something delicious.

His hair is always a mess in the mornings. He hates it, but I love it.

His eyes smile before his lips do.

But one night, you had written something different. Something deeper. Something that felt like the truest thing you had ever put to paper.

I love him.

The moment the ink dried, panic had set in. You had almost torn it up, almost removed it from the box as if keeping it there would somehow make it real. But in the end, you had left it. Because the box was safe. No one was going to see it.

Especially not Jungkook.

One afternoon, you came back from your classes, ready to relax and unwind before the stress of exams fully set in. You had been looking forward to a quiet evening, maybe even a movie marathon with Jungkook to take your mind off things for a while.

But the moment you stepped into your dorm, you felt something was off.

Joy was sitting on the couch, sipping her coffee, her expression smug—too smug. A knowing smirk curled at the corners of her lips as she watched you walk in, and instantly, your stomach twisted with unease.

You narrowed your eyes. "What did you do?"

"I did you a favor," she said casually, taking another slow sip of her coffee.

A cold shiver ran down your spine. "What favor?" you asked, dread creeping into your voice.

Joy grinned. "I found that little cute box of yours."

Your heart stopped. "What?"

"Don't look at me like that," she waved a hand dismissively, as if what she was about to say wasn’t about to shatter your entire world. "It was just sitting there collecting dust, and I thought—what a perfect Valentine's Day gift for Jungkook. So…I wrapped it up and dropped it off at his place."

Silence.

A deafening, all-consuming silence as her words echoed in your head.

"You WHAT?!"

Your entire body froze in place, your breath catching in your throat as horror washed over you in waves. Your chest felt tight, your pulse roaring in your ears.

Joy merely raised an eyebrow, seemingly unbothered by the sheer panic on your face. "You're welcome," she said cheekily—before promptly sprinting out of the room for her life.

But you couldn’t chase after her. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the ringing in your ears.

No. No. No.

This couldn't be happening.

Still desperate to deny the possibility, you dropped to your knees and scrambled to check under your bed, your hands shaking as you reached into the familiar space where you had hidden the box for years.

Empty.

It was gone.

The tiny wooden box that held a hundred little moments, a hundred little secrets—your secrets—was gone.

And now it was in Jungkook's hands.

Of all people…Jungkook.

Jungkook lived in an apartment a little further away from your dorm. The second the realization hit, you bolted out the door without a second thought, heart pounding so hard it nearly drowned out the sound of your footsteps against the pavement.

Your plan was simple—get to his apartment before he did. You knew his habits well enough to guess that he was probably grabbing a late lunch at that fast-food place near campus. If luck was on your side, you still had time.

He hadn’t seen it yet.

He couldn’t have seen it yet.

As you ran, your mind spiraled into chaos, bombarding you with every possible scenario—each one worse than the last.

What if he had already opened it?

What if he read through every single note?

What if he found the one that said I love him?

Your stomach twisted painfully at the thought.

Jungkook was your best friend.

He was your person.

And now, he might know that you wanted to be more than just friends.

The mere thought made your chest tighten as memories of the two of you flashed through your mind. The times you spent together at the arcade, the countless movie nights, the time you and Jungkook had crashed Jimin’s birthday party with a ridiculous amount of booze.

And then…there was that moment.

The moment you almost confessed.

"I wish I could find someone who truly understood me," he had said one night, his voice softer than usual, lost in thought.

And you had almost said it. The words had been on the tip of your tongue, so painfully close—"I do."

But you swallowed them down.

Because what if he didn’t feel the same way? What if saying those words ruined everything?

And now, thanks to Joy, you didn’t have a choice anymore. The truth was out there, sitting in a neatly wrapped box in Jungkook’s apartment.

The thought of his reaction sent your mind into overdrive.

Would he laugh?

Would he think it was weird?

Would he—

Would he reject you?

No. No. No.

You shook your head violently as you rounded the corner, lungs burning from the sprint. You’re going to get there before he does. You’re going to take the box back, and he’s never going to know about it.

That was the plan.

It had to work.

As soon as you reached Jungkook’s apartment building, you barely paused to catch your breath. Your legs ached from running, but panic kept you moving. You made a beeline for the mailbox section in the lobby, frantically scanning the names, searching for his.

Box 109.

You yanked it open.

Empty.

Your stomach sank.

Maybe his roommate took it upstairs? Yeah. That had to be it. Maybe it was sitting untouched on the kitchen counter, still wrapped, still safe, still unseen.

You latched onto that sliver of hope as you rushed up the stairs two at a time, unwilling to wait for the elevator. By the time you reached his floor, your hands were shaking. You raised a fist and knocked on the door, urgency making your knuckles sting.

No response.

You knocked again, harder this time.

Then—finally—you heard shuffling from inside. A few footsteps. The creak of the floorboards. A pause.

The door swung open.

And there he was.

Jungkook.

Standing right in front of you, framed in the dim light of his apartment, wearing an oversized grey hoodie that draped over his frame in a way that shouldn't have been so unfairly attractive. His dark hair was slightly damp, messy from a shower, strands falling into his eyes. His lips were parted in surprise, his brows slightly furrowed, and the expression on his face—confused yet soft, dangerously soft—made your already erratic heartbeat lurch violently.

But then, your gaze dropped to his hands.

And the world stopped.

The box.

The open box.

Your box.

Your secret, sacred collection of unsent confessions, of words meant only for the safety of your own solitude. The pieces of your heart you had never dared to show him.

You felt like you were going to be sick.

No, no, no, no—

"You—" You gasped, barely able to form words, chest rising and falling rapidly as you fought for air. "You opened it?"

Jungkook blinked, holding the box loosely in one hand, fingers curled around the edges as if he had been going through its contents just moments ago. He tilted his head, his expression unreadable.

"Yeah," he said simply, as if the weight of the universe hadn’t just come crashing down on you.

Oh. Oh no.

Your legs wobbled. You had to physically stop yourself from collapsing right there in front of him.

His gaze flickered downward, and you followed it instinctively. In his other hand, he held one of the notes. One of your notes. The handwriting was unmistakably yours, a little smudged, a little rushed, but still legible.

He cleared his throat, then read aloud.

"I don’t know when it happened. But one day, he became my favorite person."

Silence.

It stretched on for what felt like an eternity.

You thought you might actually pass out.

"Jungkook, I—" Your voice cracked, but before you could even attempt to explain, he looked up and met your eyes.

And then, to your absolute horror—

He smiled.

Not a teasing smirk, not an awkward grimace, but a real, genuine, knowing smile. A little shy, a little amused, as if the weight of what he had just discovered didn’t terrify him nearly as much as it did you.

And then—oh god—he spoke again.

"So… do you still think my hair looks best when it’s messy?"

Your breath hitched.

Your brain went blank.

You wanted to scream.

The change was almost instant.

In the days that followed, Jungkook became… different.

Not in the way you had imagined, though.

You had been bracing yourself for a talk—a conversation where he’d tell you gently, maybe even apologetically, that he didn’t feel the same way. Or, at the very least, a moment of awkwardness before things slowly went back to normal.

But instead, Jungkook just… pulled away.

It started subtly at first. He stopped texting as much. The late-night calls that once lasted for hours dwindled into one-word replies and seen messages. The casual lunch meetups, the spontaneous arcade runs, the easy, natural way he used to gravitate towards you in a crowded room—all of it changed.

And yet, despite the distance, he never fully let you go.

Instead, he turned it into a joke.

Like today, when he leaned in—far too close for comfort—during your shared class. His voice was low, teasing, the warmth of his breath fanning against your ear.

"So, I’m warmer than the sun, huh?"

You stiffened instantly, your hands tightening around your pen. He pulled back with a smirk, his dark eyes glittering with mischief as he watched your reaction unfold in real-time.

It was unbearable.

He kept doing it.

Whenever you tried to talk to him—really talk to him—he would either dodge the conversation entirely or turn it into something lighthearted, something unserious.

Like the time you finally found him alone, determined to just get it over with, to ask what had changed between you two. Before you could even get the words out, he cut you off with another one of those smirks, his voice laced with amusement.

"So I look best in black? Good to know."

And then he walked away.

That was when you finally got the message.

Jungkook had taken it as a joke.

He didn’t care about your feelings.

It was like the caring, affectionate boy you had known for years had vanished the moment your heart had been laid bare. Like now that the truth was out in the open, he didn’t know how to handle it—so he chose to mock it instead.

And worst of all?

He was pulling away from you completely.

The time you used to spend together? Gone. He was hanging out with other people now, filling his days with anyone but you. And when you did manage to cross paths, he only acknowledged you through those insufferable little comments, those cruel reminders of the things you had never meant for him to see.

It hurt. More than you wanted to admit.

Because maybe—just maybe—you had hoped that if he knew how you felt…

He wouldn’t push you away like this.

The next week brought the on-campus career fair—an event mandatory for all students. You weren’t particularly excited about it, but at least it was a distraction, something to keep your mind occupied.

Or so you thought.

Because that’s when you saw him.

And he wasn’t alone.

He was walking around with Hana, a junior from your college. They moved easily through the crowd, side by side, completely immersed in conversation. And then, to make things even worse—he laughed.

A real laugh. The kind that made his nose scrunch up and his eyes crinkle, the kind you hadn’t heard in what felt like forever.

Your stomach twisted.

You weren’t expecting him to make it this obvious.

If he wanted to reject you, fine. If he didn’t feel the same way, you could live with that. But did he really have to parade it around like this?

Maybe this was his way of sending a message. Maybe he wanted you to know, without actually having to say it out loud.

A silent rejection.

What a jerk.

These days, you barely have the motivation to attend classes. You go through the motions—waking up, dragging yourself to campus, sitting through lectures—but your mind isn’t really there.

Because no matter how hard you try to distract yourself, the brutal reality of rejection lingers like a shadow, following you everywhere you go.

Jungkook threw away your feelings like they meant nothing.

You should have expected it, right? You should have known this was how it would turn out.

Maybe you were never meant to be anything more than a friend to him. Maybe, the moment he realized you held deeper feelings for him, he got scared. Or worse—maybe he just didn’t care at all.

The thought makes your chest ache.

Jungkook has always been a romantic at heart. You’ve seen it in the way he talks about love, in the way he watches romance movies with a dreamy look in his eyes. But clearly, you were never part of that dream.

And now, because of your stupid feelings, you’ve ruined everything.

You used to be his best friend. The one he joked around with, the one he trusted, the one he leaned on.

But now?

Now he barely looks at you.

And if he does, it's only to throw some teasing remark your way—like your feelings were some kind of joke.

The person you were most angry at was Joy.

Not Jungkook. Not yourself.

Joy.

Because none of this would have happened if she had just left that damn box alone.

That day after the box incident, the moment you stepped back into your dorm, she was there, lounging on the couch like nothing had happened. She glanced up as you walked in, a smirk already forming on her lips.

“I didn’t expect you to come back so early. I thought you guys would—” she wiggled her eyebrows—“get freaky after the whole confession, you know?”

She laughed, expecting you to groan or throw a pillow at her like usual.

But then she saw your face.

Her laughter faded. “Wait… what happened?”

You didn’t answer. You just walked past her and sank into the couch, staring at nothing, your mind still replaying every moment from earlier—Jungkook’s teasing, his smirk, his distance.

You heard Joy shuffle closer, her voice softer now. “I… I’m sorry. Did I send the gift too early? Did Jungkook not like it?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Oh, no, he loved it.” You turned to her, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you so much for your help, Joy.”

Her expression faltered. “Wait… what do you mean?”

You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “Jungkook probably thinks I’m pathetic now.”

Joy winced. She sat beside you on the couch, guilt written all over her face. “I— I really thought—” she hesitated, chewing on her lip. “I was so sure, though. That boy always had heart eyes for you.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Well, now you know he didn’t.”

Silence settled between you both.

And for the first time, Joy didn’t have anything to say.

The next time you see Jungkook, he’s with Hana again.

They’re standing by one of the campus notice boards, deep in conversation. You don’t mean to eavesdrop—you’re not even sure why you stop—but the moment you hear them talking, something in your gut tells you to listen.

Hana tilts her head, her voice low but clear. “Are you sure she won't find out?”

Jungkook sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know… Maybe it's better this way”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Your first instinct is denial—maybe they’re not talking about you. Maybe it’s about someone else entirely. But deep down, you know.

As far as you’re aware, there isn’t another she in Jungkook’s life. Not before. Not when you were still close.

You’ve already been replaced.

Your chest aches as you piece it together. He doesn't want you to find out—because he's probably in a relationship with Hana now. Because he doesn’t want to hurt you with a direct rejection, he thinks hiding his relationship with her is the kinder option.

It isn’t.

You swallow the lump in your throat and force yourself to step back, turning away from the scene before you can hear any more.

You decide then—no matter how much it hurts, no matter how pathetic it makes you feel—you can’t bear being apart from Jungkook.

Even if he doesn’t love you back.

Even if he only sees you as a friend.

Losing him completely? That’s not something you’re ready for. Maybe you never will be.

So, you do the only thing you can think of.

You wait for him after class.

Your heart pounds against your ribs as you watch the door, your hands clammy with nerves. When Jungkook finally steps out, your breath catches. He looks the same—same hoodie, same soft brown eyes—but everything feels different now.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward.

"I get it, okay?" you say, voice firm despite the way your throat tightens. "You don’t like me. And that’s fine. I hope she makes you happy."

Jungkook halts mid-step.

His jaw clenches. His fists curl at his sides.

"You don’t understand," he mutters.

"Then make me understand, Jungkook," you plead. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to keep going, even as your last shred of dignity slips through your fingers. "Can we still be friends, at least?"

Silence.

Jungkook doesn’t reply.

And somehow, that hurts more than rejection ever could.

There's a party happening, hosted by one of the biggest party animals on campus. Everyone is invited, and Joy insists that you go.

After much convincing, you finally give in. You've mended things with her—finally forgiven her. Maybe it wasn’t entirely her fault. Maybe you just needed someone to blame.

You decide to go, hoping for a distraction. Maybe the music, the drinks, and the endless chatter will help you forget, even if just for a night.

But you already know Jungkook will be there.

Probably Hana too.

And that's fine.

You'll just stay out of their way.

The party is in full swing when you arrive—loud music, flashing lights, bodies moving wildly on the dance floor, and the unmistakable smell of booze in the air. Bottles are being passed around, and the energy is electric.

A few friends from your classes spot you and pull you in, offering drinks. You take them all without hesitation, reaching for the strongest ones, letting the alcohol burn away the ache in your chest.

Jungkook is nowhere in sight.

Good. Maybe he didn’t come. Maybe you can actually enjoy yourself tonight.

With the alcohol settling in, your limbs feel lighter, your mind a little hazy. You dance to the outdated playlist blaring through the speakers, laugh with strangers, and let yourself let go—just for a while.

But after some time, it all feels like too much. The heat, the noise, the overwhelming buzz in your veins. You slip away from the crowd and make your way to the rooftop, breathing in the crisp night air, letting it cool your flushed skin.

And then you sense it—someone else's presence.

You turn, your head spinning slightly, and there he is.

Jungkook.

You blink, wondering if you're imagining him, but his gaze is fixed on you, a slight furrow between his brows. There's something like concern in his expression as he watches you, taking in your drunken state.

Your heart stumbles in your chest.

The alcohol makes everything feel lighter—your body, your thoughts, your inhibitions. So when you see Jungkook standing there, looking at you with that unreadable expression, the words just spill out before you can stop them.

“I liked you, you know,” you mumble, swaying slightly. “But now I realize… I was just wasting my time.”

Jungkook doesn’t react. No apology, no denial, not even a flicker of emotion across his face.

He just exhales softly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’ll be fine,” he says simply, then turns on his heel and walks away.

Just like that.

The cool night air suddenly feels suffocating, the weight in your chest heavier than ever. You watch his retreating figure, your heart shattering all over again.

The next morning, you wake up with the nastiest headache ever. Your head throbs, your mouth is dry, and your body feels like it’s been wrung out. You groan, forcing yourself to sit up as the hazy memories from last night slowly piece themselves together.

Jungkook. The rooftop. The way he just… walked away like he didn’t care.

You shake the thought from your mind, dragging yourself out of bed. There’s no point dwelling on it. Your exams are approaching, and you need to focus.

Deciding to get some studying done, you head to the library. The quiet atmosphere should help clear your head—or at least distract you from the mess that is your life.

But the moment you step inside, your breath catches.

Jungkook is sitting at the table you both used to frequent, completely absorbed in scribbling something into a notebook. For a second, you consider turning around, but then something catches your eye.

He rips out a small piece of paper, folds it neatly, and—without hesitation—slips it into a glass jar sitting beside him.

Your heart clenches.

Is it for Hana?

You don’t stick around to find out. Before Jungkook can notice you, you turn on your heel and walk away.

February 10th. Your birthday.

You wake up with a small flicker of hope. Maybe today would be different. Maybe Jungkook had been ignoring you all this time because he was planning something—some kind of surprise. That had to be it, right?

Surely.

So you wait.

By 3 PM, your phone is filled with messages—friends, family, even distant relatives reaching out to wish you. Everyone but Jungkook.

Not even a single text.

The hope that had carried you through the day starts to crumble, replaced by a hollow ache in your chest. You don’t go to class. What’s the point? This might just be the worst birthday ever.

That’s when Joy bursts into your room with a grin.

"You got a package!" she announces, holding out a neatly wrapped box.

Your heart leaps.

Jungkook?

You rush over, fingers fumbling as you tear open the wrapping—only for your stomach to drop.

It’s from your parents.

Disappointment washes over you, but you push it aside. They went through the trouble of sending you something, and you should be grateful. You take a deep breath, forcing a smile as you pick up your phone and call them.

"Thank you," you say, voice steady. Because at least someone remembered.

There was still time.

It was only evening—plenty of hours left before midnight. Jungkook would surely text before then. He had to.

Joy, noticing your gloomy mood, tries to lift your spirits. "Come on, let’s go out drinking. Have some fun, at least for your birthday."

But you shake your head. "I’m not in the mood."

She sighs, clearly frustrated but doesn’t push you. Instead, she flops onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. "I hate this," she mutters. "I hate seeing you like this. And I hate him for treating you this way."

Her voice is laced with anger, but there’s something else there too—guilt.

Because deep down, Joy still blames herself.

If she hadn’t sent that gift early, if she hadn’t tried to play cupid, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way. Maybe you wouldn’t be spending your birthday like this—waiting for a boy who might never come around.

Jungkook didn’t text that day.

He forgot your birthday.

You waited all day, checking your phone every few minutes, hoping for a message that never came. Midnight passed, and still—nothing.

The realization settles deep in your chest, heavier than you expected. You feel pathetic.

Pathetic for hoping. Pathetic for waiting. Pathetic for still caring.

It’s the day before Valentine’s Day.

You can’t afford to miss any more classes. You haven’t stepped foot on campus since your birthday, but today, you decide to go.

You have no motivation to see or talk to anyone. You tell yourself that you’ll just quietly attend your classes and head straight back home. No distractions. No unnecessary interactions.

But as soon as you reach campus, you notice a crowd gathering. There’s some kind of matchmaking event happening for Valentine’s Day tomorrow.

Great. Just great.

Everything about it feels like the universe is mocking you, rubbing salt on an already raw wound. Heart-shaped decorations, pink confetti floating in the air, and couples laughing—completely oblivious to how suffocating it feels for you.

You try to move past the crowd, but suddenly, someone pushes forward, and you get caught in the chaos. You stumble, losing your balance—bracing for impact—

But you don’t hit the ground.

Because Jungkook catches you.

His hands grip your arms, steadying you out of instinct. His touch is firm and warm, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache.

For the first time in days, you look up at him. And for the first time in days, he looks right back at you.

He doesn’t let go of you immediately.

His grip stays firm, his fingers pressing into your arms like he’s grounding himself, like he’s hesitating. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his lips parting slightly—like he’s about to say something.

The music playing in the background fades into a distant hum. Everything around you slows. The laughter, the chatter, the festival lights—it all blurs.

All that’s left is him.

Still holding you.

Your voice barely comes out, a whisper against the space between you.

“Do you even care, Jungkook?”

His hands tighten for a fraction of a second. His jaw clenches. And for a brief, fleeting moment, you think you see something—something raw and unspoken flash through his eyes.

But then, like a switch flipping, he lets go.

So fast that you nearly stumble again.

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words cut through the air, sharp and merciless.

Then he turns. Walks away.

And you’re left standing there, alone in the middle of a festival meant for love.

This is it.

This is your answer.

Jungkook has made his choice.

And now, it’s time for you to make yours.

You have to move on.

That night, you decide—Jungkook was never meant to be yours.

It’s a painful truth, one you’ve been avoiding, but tonight, you accept it.

Needing a distraction, you start clearing out your closet, pulling out old clothes, forgotten trinkets, anything to keep your hands busy. That’s when you see it.

The pink heart-shaped box.

Your breath hitches.

You had snatched it from his hands that day, barely able to meet his gaze before bolting out of his apartment and driving straight back to your dorm. You had shoved it deep into your closet, hoping that if you buried it away, you could bury your feelings too.

For a moment, you consider throwing it away. What’s the point of holding onto it now? Jungkook knows. He read the notes, saw every piece of your heart laid bare. And in the end, it changed nothing.

Your fingers tremble as you lift the lid.

One by one, you pull out the little folded papers, unfolding memories you once held so close.

"I don’t know when it happened, but one day, he became my favourite person."

"His laugh is my favorite sound."

"I wish he knew how much he means to me."

Tears blur your vision.

You never wanted him to know.

Because you never wanted to lose him.

And now, you have.

The weight of it crashes over you all at once, and before you can stop it, the tears spill over, hot and relentless.

You clutch the notes to your chest as silent sobs wrack your body.

You’ve been holding the pain in for too long.

So tonight, you let the dams break.

And you cry yourself to sleep.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

You feel miserable.

Forget having a Valentine this year—you don’t even have a best friend anymore.

So you stay in bed all day, buried under the covers, refusing to acknowledge the world outside.

Your mind drifts, unbidden, to last year’s Valentine’s Day.

You and Jungkook had gone out for dinner—not as lovers, not as anything more than friends, just two people who didn’t have dates. You remember how he laughed at the terrible restaurant music, how he stole fries from your plate like they were his.

You miss it.

No—wait. You shouldn’t be thinking about him.

Shaking off the thought, you grab your Nintendo Switch and start playing, trying to distract yourself.

Then the doorbell rings.

You ignore it. Joy is probably home—she’ll get it.

But it rings again.

What is Joy doing?

Then it hits you—she probably stayed over at her boyfriend’s place last night.

With a groan, you push off the covers and make your way to the door. You swing it open, ready to shoo away whoever it is—

But there’s no one there.

Your gaze drops to the ground.

And then you see it.

A singular jar, placed carefully on the doormat.

You stare at the jar, a strange sense of familiarity creeping in, but you can’t quite place it.

Where have you seen something like this before?

Your mind scrambles for an answer, flipping through memories like pages in a book, but nothing surfaces.

With hesitant fingers, you reach down and pick it up, feeling the cool glass against your palm. It’s heavier than you expected.

That’s when you notice the writing on the lid, scrawled in red marker.

"To Y/N."

Your heart stutters.

You blink, trying to steady your breath, but the moment feels unreal—like you’ve stepped into a dream.

It’s only then that you notice the jar is filled with tiny rolled-up notes, crammed inside like secrets waiting to be unraveled.

Your mind starts spiraling.

What is this? Who left it? Why does it have your name?

Your hands tremble as you twist the lid open, the slight pop of the seal echoing in the silence.

You reach inside, fingers brushing against the countless little slips of paper.

With bated breath, you pull one out.

You carefully unroll it, eyes scanning the words scribbled in rushed, familiar handwriting.

"I lied."

That’s all it says.

Two words.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes trace the messy yet unmistakable handwriting.

Jungkook.

Your fingers tighten around the note as your pulse quickens.

It’s his.

The realization slams into you with a force that leaves you momentarily stunned.

Your breath turns shallow as the memory crashes into you—

Yesterday.

The crowd. The music. The overwhelming blur of people around you.

You had stumbled, nearly falling, only for Jungkook to catch you. For a fleeting moment, he held you close. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable.

You had searched his face, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you even care, Jungkook?"

You had wanted him to say yes. Even a little. Anything to make the ache in your chest feel less unbearable.

But instead—

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words had cut deeper than you ever thought possible.

And then he had let go. So fast, like touching you had burned him. Like you meant nothing at all.

You remember the way your heart had cracked, the way he had disappeared into the sea of people, leaving you stranded in the middle of a festival meant for love.

But now—

Now you stand here, gripping a jar full of his words.

"I lied."

Your hands fumble as you reach into the jar again, pulling out another note.

Unrolling it with shaky fingers, you read:

"I thought if I pushed you away, it’d be easier for you to move on. But the truth is, I don’t want you to."

A sharp pang strikes your chest.

Your mind reels, and suddenly, you're back at the rooftop party—drunk, vulnerable, spilling your heart out in slurred words.

“I liked you, you know? But now I realize I was just wasting my time.”

Jungkook had stood there, silent, unreadable, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

No apology. No denial. Nothing.

And then, just as effortlessly, he had turned away.

"You'll be fine," he'd said before walking off, leaving you alone in the cold night.

The memory burns like an open wound, and yet, here you are, standing in your doorway, holding the truth he should have told you that night in the palm of your hands.

Your fingers tremble as you pull out the next note.

"I missed your birthday on purpose because I wanted to give you something that lasts longer than a text."

Your breath hitches.

He didn’t forget?

He chose not to text?

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips, but it fades just as quickly as the weight of his words settles in.

You reach into the jar again, pulling out another note, heart pounding against your ribs.

What you didn’t know was—

Jungkook had spent hours writing your birthday note.

He had sat at his desk that night, a dozen crumpled papers around him, rewriting the same message over and over, never satisfied. His hands had been shaky when he finally folded the note and slipped it into the jar.

Because words were permanent.

Because he was afraid.

Because deep down, he knew—if he told you how much you really meant to him, he wouldn’t be able to push you away anymore.

And that terrified him.

Your grip on the jar tightens as you pull out the next note.

"I was scared you’d see me in the library that day. And you did. I almost stopped writing. But I wanted to finish this for you."

Your breath catches in your throat as a memory rushes back—

The library.

That afternoon, when you had finally dragged yourself back to campus to study for your exams, you had seen him sitting at your usual table, scribbling something into his notebook.

At the time, you thought nothing of it—until you watched him tear out a tiny slip of paper and slip it into a jar.

A jar.

The very same one you now hold in your trembling hands.

Back then, you had turned away, assuming it was for Hana.

But it wasn’t.

It was for you.

Every note in this jar was for you.

Your vision blurs as you stare down at the tiny rolled-up messages still waiting to be read.

He had been writing to you all along.

By the time you reach the last few notes, your hands are trembling. Maybe you can’t even read them through the tears clouding your vision. The weight of all those misunderstandings—every ignored confession, every painful silence, every moment you thought he didn’t care—crashes down on you all at once.

Your breath is uneven as you unroll another slip of paper.

"You thought I didn’t care. But I did. I always did."

A sob escapes your lips, the ache in your chest unbearable.

You clutch the jar against you like it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held—because it is. Because it’s him.

Every unspoken word. Every hidden feeling. Every truth he was too afraid to say aloud.

And now, you finally know.

Your breath catches as you reach the bottom of the jar, realizing the significance—there are exactly 100 notes, just like the box you once gave him.

With shaky hands, you pull out the 99th note.

“I was always bad at saying things out loud. So I wrote them instead. I just hope it’s not too late for you to read them.”

Your chest tightens.

You take a deep breath and reach for the last note, your fingers trembling. Slowly, you unroll it, heart pounding in your ears.

“Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

The paper almost slips from your fingers as your vision blurs with fresh tears. A shaky laugh escapes your lips, somewhere between disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

After everything, after all the silence, the pain, the misunderstandings—he’s finally saying it.

And suddenly, all that matters is what you’ll do next.

The moment the words register, you don’t think.

The jar nearly slips from your grasp as you scramble to your feet, your heartbeat hammering louder than the thoughts racing through your mind. Jungkook. He couldn’t have gone far—he must have just dropped it off.

You fling the door open, barefoot, barely even stopping to grab your keys. The cold air bites at your skin, but you don’t care. You sprint down the stairs, nearly stumbling in your rush to get outside.

Your eyes dart wildly around the street, your breath coming out in frantic puffs. Where is he?

Then, you see him.

A few feet away, Jungkook is walking slowly, hands in his pockets, head low like he’s already bracing for disappointment. Like he’s already convinced you won’t come after him.

But you do.

“Jungkook!”

He freezes.

You don’t stop running until you’re right in front of him, breathless, clutching the jar close to your chest like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the moment.

His eyes widen when he sees you—messy hair, no shoes, trembling hands still gripping his gift like it’s the most important thing in the world.

You swallow hard, voice shaking. “Did you mean it?”

Jungkook looks at you for a long moment, the night stretching between you like a fragile thread.

Then, barely above a whisper—��Yeah.”

Your chest heaves, breath uneven, voice shaking as you clutch the jar tighter.

"You absolute—jerk." Your voice wavers, but the anger, the hurt, the sheer weight of everything he’s put you through spills out in every word. "You sat there, letting me think I meant nothing to you. And the whole time, you were—" You shake the jar, almost laughing in disbelief. "—writing these?"

Jungkook doesn’t answer. He just stands there, hands stuffed in his pockets, jaw tight, like he’s bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say next.

"You could’ve just told me, Jungkook. You could’ve just—" You pause, gripping the jar like it’s the only thing holding you together. "Why? Why lie to me?"

He exhales sharply, his voice rough, like he’s been holding it in for too long.

"Because I was a coward."

You blink. You weren’t expecting him to admit it so easily.

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, looking away. "I thought pushing you away was the right thing to do. If I let you think I didn’t care, maybe you’d move on. Maybe you’d find someone who wouldn’t hurt you like I did."

Your throat tightens. Your fingers dig into the glass of the jar. "You were the one hurting me, Jungkook."

His eyes finally meet yours, and the weight of them almost knocks the air from your lungs. He looks wrecked.

"I know." His voice is barely above a whisper.

"Then why?" Your voice trembles, frustration bubbling over. "Why did you let me think I was chasing something that wasn’t even there?"

His jaw clenches, and for a second, he doesn’t answer. But then, his voice comes, low and raw.

"Because I was afraid you’d realize you deserved better."

Silence settles between you. A silence so thick it presses against your chest, making it hard to breathe.

You stare at him, your vision blurring. You should walk away. You should scream, cry—anything. But instead, you do the only thing you can think of.

You reach into the jar, grab a note at random, and shove it into his hand. "Read it."

Jungkook hesitates. Then, slowly, he unfolds the paper. His fingers tremble as he reads the words he once wrote.

"If I had been braver, I would’ve told you every single day how much you meant to me."

He sucks in a sharp breath, gripping the paper like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His eyes flick back up to yours, burning with something you can’t quite name.

"Say it now," you whisper.

Jungkook's breath catches. His grip on the note tightens like it’s the only thing keeping him together.

You wait. Trembling, heart pounding, eyes locked onto his. Daring him to finally, finally say it.

He exhales shakily. His voice is low, rough—like it hurts to speak, but he does anyway.

"Y/N…"

You don’t look away. Don’t let him run from this.

His throat bobs. His hand curls into a fist at his side, then slowly unclenches.

"I love you."

A sharp inhale cuts through you. Even though you were waiting for it, the words hit like a tidal wave.

Jungkook shakes his head, almost laughing, but there’s no humor in it—just raw, aching regret.

"I loved you then. I love you now. And I don’t think there’s a single version of me that won’t love you."

Your vision blurs, the weight of everything pressing down on you all at once.

"Then why—" your voice cracks, "—why did you let me think you didn’t?"

Jungkook exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. His face twists with something close to pain.

"Because I was scared." His voice is barely above a whisper. "Scared that if I let myself have you, I’d ruin you. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize I wasn’t worth it."

Your hands clench at your sides. "You don’t get to decide that for me."

He nods. Swallows hard. Takes a step closer.

"I know." His voice is softer now. "And if I could go back, I’d do it all differently. But I can’t. All I can do is stand here and tell you—"

Your lips crash into his, years of longing and heartbreak unraveling in a single, desperate moment. Your fingers fist into his jacket, pulling him closer, closing the distance like you’ve been waiting forever. Because you have.

Jungkook catches you. His arms wind tight around your waist, grounding you, anchoring you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again. His grip is firm, unyielding, as if holding you is the only thing that makes sense anymore.

The kiss isn’t soft—it’s frantic, raw, filled with all the words you never got to say. It’s a confession, an apology, a plea. His lips move against yours with urgency, pouring everything into it, like he’s trying to make up for every second he spent pushing you away.

Jungkook tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and a shiver runs through you as his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. His other hand spreads against your back, pressing you impossibly closer, like even this isn’t enough, like he’d fuse you together if he could.

You melt. Every wall you built, every ounce of anger, every misunderstanding—crumbling, dissolving into the heat of him. The way he kisses you feels like an answer to a question you didn’t know you were asking. Like a promise.

When you finally pull apart, neither of you lets go.

Jungkook rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours, still uneven, still shaken. His hands remain on your waist like he’s afraid that the second he lets go, this will all disappear.

Your fingers stay curled in his shirt, gripping the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

His voice is raw when he finally speaks, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t deserve you.”

You exhale, shaking your head, the weight of everything still pressing against your chest. Your voice is quiet, but steady. “Then spend every day proving that you do.”

Jungkook lets out a soft laugh—one that sounds broken and real, like he can’t believe he’s still allowed to have this moment with you.

“Deal,” he murmurs.

And then he kisses you again.

The door barely clicks shut before Jungkook is on you again, his hands framing your face as his lips crash into yours. There’s no hesitation now, no careful restraint—only heat, only the raw, aching need that’s been simmering between you for far too long.

His body presses against yours, pushing you back into the door, and you gasp against his lips. He swallows the sound, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping over yours with slow, deliberate intent. He tastes like something addictive—like want, like longing, like the kind of hunger that makes your stomach tighten and your knees go weak.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer. His hands roam down, slipping under the hem of your shirt, fingertips skimming along your bare skin. His touch is scorching, leaving a trail of fire wherever he moves. He pauses, his breath ragged, lips barely brushing yours.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, voice rough, uneven.

You shake your head, tilting your chin up until your lips ghost over his again. "I don’t want you to stop."

The words break something inside him.

His mouth crashes onto yours again, hungrier this time, more desperate. His hands slide up your back, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the hard lines of his body, the way his chest rises and falls unsteadily against yours. One hand grips your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you shudder, while the other slides lower, gripping your thigh and hitching it up against his hip.

A quiet moan escapes you at the feeling, and he groans in response, pressing harder into you. His lips leave yours, trailing a path down your jaw, to the sensitive spot beneath your ear, where he lingers. His teeth scrape lightly against your skin before he soothes it with his tongue, sucking gently, enough to make you arch into him, enough to make your breath hitch.

"Jungkook—" His name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper, and he exhales sharply against your skin, like the sound is enough to undo him.

His grip tightens as he lifts you effortlessly, hands settling under your thighs. Instinct takes over, and your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you across the room. He lays you down on the bed with care, but there’s nothing careful about the way he follows you down, covering your body with his own.

He hovers above you, his breath warm against your lips, his dark eyes searching yours. His thumb brushes over your cheek, then lower, tracing the curve of your bottom lip, his touch unbearably light.

"You’re sure?" he whispers, voice thick with something heady.

Your only answer is a whispered "Yes," breathless, certain.

Something shifts in him at your words. His lips find yours again, but this time, he takes his time—exploring, savoring, as if he wants to memorize every inch of you. His kisses trail downward, along the curve of your neck, across your collarbone, his mouth mapping out a path of heat and sensation. His hands move with just as much purpose, slipping under fabric, pushing it aside, fingers tracing bare skin with an intimacy that makes your pulse stutter.

Every brush of his lips, every slow, deliberate touch sends waves of electricity through you, igniting something deep and primal. Clothes are discarded in slow, teasing movements, the heat between you building with every layer that falls away.

His lips ghost over your shoulder, down your arm, over the curve of your breasts, his breath hot and uneven. He watches you, eyes dark with something intense, something almost reverent, as his fingers trace slow, lazy patterns along your bare skin.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmurs, voice filled with something deeper than desire.

You reach for him, pulling him back up, needing his mouth on yours again, needing more. He obliges, kissing you fiercely, like he never wants to stop, like this moment has been waiting to happen for far too long.

His hands explore moving towards your heat, his touch reverent yet possessive, like he’s memorizing every inch of you, like he’s making up for all the lost time. You arch into him, breath hitching, hands gripping onto his shoulders as heat coils low in your stomach.

"Jungkook," you whisper, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

His breath catches, and he exhales shakily. "I’ve got you," he murmurs against your skin, voice barely above a whisper. "I’m right here."

And then there’s no more talking—only movement, only passion, only the feeling of finally, finally being exactly where you both belong.

The air is thick with warmth, bodies tangled beneath the sheets, hearts pounding in tandem as the last echoes of your shared breaths settle between you. The world outside might still be turning, but in this moment, it doesn’t exist. It’s just you and him, skin against skin, the weight of what just happened pressing down like the softest, heaviest thing in the world.

Your body is spent, muscles trembling faintly from the aftershocks, but you don’t move. You can’t.

Jungkook is still holding you. One arm draped lazily around your waist, the other tracing absentminded patterns against your back. His touch is slow, soothing, like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re real. Like if he lets go, you might slip away.

You stay like that for a while, chests rising and falling in sync, your head resting just above his heart. The rhythm of it is steady now, no longer racing like it had been just moments ago. Still, there’s a softness to it, an unspoken question lingering in the quiet space between you.

It’s you who finally breaks it.

“So…” You shift slightly, fingers trailing absentmindedly along his chest. “Hana knew about the jar?”

His hand stills for the briefest moment before he exhales a small, breathy laugh. His voice is thick with exhaustion, but there’s amusement in it too.

“She didn’t just know about it.” His fingers resume their slow, idle circles against your bare skin. “It was her idea.”

You blink. “…What?”

Jungkook hums in confirmation, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Yeah. She was the one who told me to do it—to fill a jar with everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.” He pauses, then adds, “She also threatened to expose me if I didn’t.”

You scoff, though you can’t help the warmth blooming in your chest. “So let me get this straight… You couldn’t tell me how you felt, but you told Hana?”

Jungkook turns his head slightly to look at you, eyes still heavy with sleep, but the amusement in them is undeniable. “I didn’t tell her. She just… figured it out.”

Of course, she did.

You huff, feigning annoyance, but your fingers betray you, tracing soft, aimless patterns along his collarbone. “Still. She knew before I did.”

Jungkook grins, rolling onto his side to face you fully. One hand slips beneath the sheets, finding your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. His voice is low when he asks, “Are you jealous?”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

His laughter vibrates against your skin, rich and warm, before he dips down to kiss you—slow and lingering, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into it. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet.

Then, softer now, more serious, he murmurs, “Are you gonna answer me?”

Your brow furrows slightly. “Answer what?”

Jungkook leans over, reaching toward the nightstand where the jar still sits, its notes untouched—except for the last one.

“The question,” he says, retrieving the single unfolded slip of paper. He holds it between you, and even though you already know what it says, your heart still stutters when your eyes skim over the words again.

Y/N, will you be my Valentine?

Earlier, you had left it unanswered, too overwhelmed by everything that had come before it. But now, after everything—after confessions, after heartbreak, after finally finding each other again—there’s no hesitation.

You reach out, plucking the note from his fingers. Slowly, carefully, you fold it again, tucking it beneath your pillow like something precious, something worth keeping. Then, meeting his gaze, you whisper, “You never needed to ask.”

Jungkook exhales, slow and shaky, like something inside him has finally settled. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin like he’s memorizing the moment.

“Good,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “Because I wasn’t planning on taking no for an answer.”

Your breath catches. Not because of his confidence—but because, deep down, you realize you’d never wanted to say no in the first place. Maybe you had tried to fight it. Maybe you had convinced yourself that the past had built too many walls between you. But now, lying here in the warmth of his arms, the truth settles into your bones like something that had been waiting for you to accept it all along.

It had always been him.

Your fingers tighten in the sheets as you search his gaze, looking for hesitation, for doubt—for something to make this feel less like a dream. But there’s nothing. Just him. Just you. Just this moment you both fought so hard to reach.

Jungkook watches you, waiting, always waiting, his hand still resting against your cheek as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

So you close the distance.

You kiss him slowly this time, letting it sink in. The warmth of his lips, the taste of him still lingering, the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. When you pull away, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing the same air, hearts beating in time.

And then, with a quiet, knowing smile, you whisper, “Then don’t.”

Jungkook’s lips part slightly, his expression shifting—softening, melting—as if those two words had knocked down every last barrier between you. And maybe they had. Because before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you against him again, tucking you close, his hand slipping into yours beneath the sheets.

Neither of you speak for a long time after that. You don’t need to.

Outside, the world keeps turning, time moving forward just as it always does. But here, in the hush of your dorm room, wrapped up in him, it feels like the universe has paused just for you.

Not to make up for lost time.

But to remind you that some things—some people—were never really lost at all.

And maybe, just maybe, they never would be.

EPILOGUE : Years Later – Valentine’s Day

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the apartment, kicking off your shoes with a tired sigh. The evening air still clings to your skin, carrying traces of laughter and the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence.

It had been another perfect night—one filled with inside jokes, stolen bites of each other’s food, and his usual exasperated attempts to get you to pick a restaurant instead of saying, “Anything’s fine.”

Jungkook is nowhere in sight, giving you the solitude you need. You don’t hesitate. Your steps are purposeful as you cross the room, crouching down beside the bed. With practiced ease, you reach under the frame, fingers brushing against the familiar surface of a small pink, heart-shaped box.

But this time, there’s something else.

Your fingers find the jar—the one that started it all.

You pull them both out carefully, as if they were a fragile secret, and place them on your lap.

Soft footsteps approach. Then, a familiar weight sinks onto the mattress beside you.

Jungkook’s voice is quieter now, fond. “Didn’t think I’d see those again.”

You smile, running a thumb over the worn edges of the box before glancing at him. “I don’t know what made me reach for them.”

He hums, gaze flickering between the objects in your hands. “Habit, maybe. Or fate.” Then, smirking, “You always did have a thing for digging up answers.”

Rolling your eyes, you pop the lid off the jar, fingers fishing out an old note. The paper is creased, the ink slightly faded, but you already know what it says.

"Y/N, will you be my Valentine?"

Jungkook watches you, expectant. “You never actually answered me, you know.”

You exhale a laugh, shaking your head. “Jungkook, we’re literally married.”

“And?” He leans in, teasing. “I’m just saying, a verbal confirmation wouldn’t hurt.”

You scoff but humor him anyway, fingers curling into his sweater as you whisper against his lips—

"Yes, Jungkook. I’ll be your Valentine."

His arms wrap around you, pulling you in. The jar sits forgotten on the floor, the pink box nestled beside it.

Once upon a time, you had pulled it out, searching for clarity. Looking for a sign.

You didn’t realize then—you never needed the answers inside.

Because you’d already found them.

Because you’d found him.

And maybe that was the answer all along.

taglist: @iamstilljk @hirochan112 @withluvjm @amarawayne @jeon-has-left-you-on-seen @blueofocean @tattzjeon @tsick @stuti2904 @gukkiebabysblog @taekritimin123 @whisperingonyx @sadgirlroo @nerdycheol @hoshiskimchi @blueberriesm @kooksrqcer @minimoninini @dreamersparacosm @yok00k @whothefuckisthishoe @prxdajeon @darkangelfei @sunainasworld @kia091106 @khadeeeeej @welcometomyworld13 @noshametempo @bakuhoethotski @ohyeah35sworld

thank you so much for reading! let me know what u think about it <3

2K notes · View notes

starmocha · 3 months ago

Text

ROXIE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH OMG THIS WAS SUCH A NICE SURPRISE 🥹💖

the way i actually stopped everything earlier at work because i wanted to read this immediately lmao i'm glad you dropped it on a Saturday <333

I absolutely knew you would do justice with this prompt. It is so cute omg I seriously can't stop smiling. This is going straight into my comfort stash 💖💖💖

EVERYONE SHOULD READ THIS FIC AND SHOW ROXIE SOME LOVE. THE CALEB FLUFF IS ✨IMMACULATE✨

OK bye sweetness love you forever and ever thank you for always being you and blessing the world with this gem 🥹💖

≡;-꒰ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒄𝒐𝒛𝒚

╰┈➤ ❝ caleb x afab!reader | VALENTINE'S EVENT !

tags : mostly fluff, slightlyyyyy suggestive at the start but nothing explicit, established relationship, use of pet names "baby" and "pipsqueak".

wc : 1.6k (oops)

an : DROPPING THIS BEFORE I GO TO BED :D requested by @starmocha !!!! this prompt had me squealing hehe 🥰🥰🥰

taglist : under the cut! (SIGN UP HERE)

ko-fi jar / commissions

It's 1AM, and you're hungry, so what better place to go than the convenience store down the block?

"I'm hungry."

The sheets rustled.

Caleb shifted onto his side to look at you, head resting in his palm, eyebrows raised. You could see the way his eyes raked over you appreciatively for a moment, almost as if seeing you in a new light again, almost as if he hadn't been all over you just a couple of minutes ago.

With his free hand, he reached out to tuck an awry strand of hair behind your ear. It was a soft gesture.

yet when he spoke, there was a laugh to his voice. "You're hungry?"

You whined. "Not that kind of hungry! Like, actually hungry! Come onnnnnn. Aren't you?"

"Baby, it's past midnight. Aren't you tired? You should be a good girl and get some rest—"

Despite the phrase deliberately used—you were sure—to bring butterflies to your stomach, you promptly gave him a playful shove. "Well, I'm not gonna be able to sleep if I'm hungry, anyway. So your attempts at persuading me are void!"

To make a point, you sat up and crosses your arms, looking at him expectantly.

An impasse, of sorts.

The two of you looked at each other, silent, a few seconds—

Caleb was the first to relent.

"Alright, alright, we'll get some food. There's that convenience store down the block, that enough?" He sat up along with you and slipped out of bed, trodding towards his closet to throw you one of his sweaters. "It'll be cold out, so wear that for a while. Just a lil somethin' to keep you warm."

You held it close to your chest—it smelled like him. And it was as if you weren't already in his t-shirt, anyway; as if he hadn't left enough of his own marks on you that night, but you were happy to have a little something on you that reminded you of him.

You hopped out of bed yourself and, to make a point, grabbed one of his caps to put on your head.

"Ready!"

And perhaps it was because it was late, and barely anyone would be outside anyway, but it seemed neither of you cared that you'd be leaving in your pajamas.

Caleb tugged at your hand, pulling you close.

"I hope you know that I love seein' you in my clothes," he chuckled. "Makes you look extra gorgeous."

And you could think to yourself that you were so used to his charm, maybe even desensitized… but he would always find ways to prove you wrong. An additional kiss to your forehead had you melting in an instant, and then he still had the audacity to send you a wink.

"Caleb!" you huffed as he pulled away and ushered you outside, the gleeful sound of his laughter never failing to astonish you.

Seriously, the audacity of this man!

And yet you couldn't quite complain, not with the way your heart filled with a complete and utter sense of fondness for him. It didn't matter the hour, didn't matter that the breeze of the dawn before you made you feel a little cold. He squeezed your hand and quietly put it into his pocket… and, really—with your hand in his and his presence beside you, it was all the warmth you could ever need.

As you walked to the convenience store, your free hand took a glance at the time on your phone.

"1:43AM," you mused, "on… February 14th. Huh, look at that! So our Valentine's date this year's to a convenience store?"

You felt him peek over your shoulder, and he let out a laugh. "Guess it is Valentine's, huh? Happy Valentine's Day, pipsqueak." He gave your hair a little ruffle, before the little jingle of your very destination had him tugging you through the doors.

As you expected: quite empty.

He nudged your arm. "I mean, I'm still takin' you out for a date later today," he shrugged, "but as an extra treat, then you've got free reign gettin' whatever you want. I'll pay."

Immediately your eyes brightened, a squeal falling from your lips enough to draw a quizzical stare from the cashier lady, and you squeezed his arm. "Really?!"

"Yeah, really!"

"Oh my god! You better not go back on that promise!"

"Be real. When have I ever, with you?"

You felt another surge of warmth rush through you, and you stood on your tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips. "God, I love you!"

And it wasn't really as if you didn't have a little bit of your own snack stash still left at home, but who were you to refuse a free gift?

There was a bounce to your step as you walked through the aisles, and you supposed that neither of you were acting as if it were practically two in the morning. The irony stood—despite everything else being quiet around you two, there was enough joy in the simplest things with him to get you all bouncy like this.

You turned to him with your arms full of little snacks, and laughed as you held one up for him. "Hey! Remember this one? The first time you brought this home, it was 'cause some girl from your class got you this." The memory made you laugh, and you turned the packet over in a moment of nostalgia. "I haven't had these in forever, for some reason, but they were really good. That girl had taste…"

A flick to your forehead.

"Hey!"

He snatched a couple of the packets you were carrying and put them into the basket he was holding, all while giving you a pointed look. "Doesn't matter who got them first," he scoffed, "'cause I brought them home for you."

A smile played on your lips.

"Well… she wasn't the first to give you stuff, nor was she the last."

"Aaand like I said, it doesn't matter."

This time, you grinned and tiptoed to return the forehead flick he'd given you just earlier. "Why're you so upset about it? Of course the golden boy would always get so much attention from all the girls—"

"Sooo I'd get all that attention from 'em, and then disregard their gifts just so you'd have somethin' to have fun with when we got home."

You paused, and he gave a playful roll of his eyes.

"I gotta hand it to ya, pipsqueak, sometimes you spend a lil too much time up there in the clouds."

"What!?"

He held up a box of cookies that you were familiar with.

"This one's been your favorite for as long as I can remember. Some girl gave one of these to me back in middle school… But I knew you'd love 'em. So I gave 'em to you."

Another box of snacks.

"You always say you don't like these, but I see you sneak them back to your room when no one's lookin'… Happened to get this as a gift, too, so I left them in your room when we got back."

And you watched, somewhat amazed, as he held up the very same packet you'd been examining earlier.

"And, sure, maybe you've never had this one before… But you were always a lil adventurous. It was strawberry. I remember, 'cause you like strawberries. So I thought you might've wanted to give this a try, too."

Your gaze followed his movements as he took the liberty to grab a couple more snacks from the shelves, and though he turned back to you with a smile, you found your mind still reeling from what he'd said.

It was always you. From the very start, he…

"I've always watched you," he said simply. Because he could read you like an open book, and some things just don't change. He shrugged, leaned down towards you to give the tip of your nose a little poke. "I saved those for you, 'cause I know you. And you think any of those girls ever mattered to me? Nah. It was always just about you. And you got to relish in all those little snacks, so, you know. Win-win situation if I get to make you happy."

For a moment you didn't speak, and you felt the blush slowly begin to creep up your cheeks.

You'd never realized it before; maybe never even bothered to check for yourself.

Sure, you maybe thought all of those were from him, and, sure, when you found out they weren't directly, you felt a little upset, but…

It was more than just material to poke fun at him for being popular.

Your eyes softened. "So… you were thinking about me."

"Pshh. I always think about you, baby. Not a moment goes by where I don't."

You watched him walk away with a wave of his hand, under the guise of 'checking out the drinks while you think of what else you wanted', and a flurry of butterflies stirred anew in your heart.

As you hurried to catch up with him and stood by him at the counter, he chuckled. "I always thought you'd find out then and there how much I liked you, you know."

"I guess you were being obvious about it, in a way…"

"Yeah, and you were too busy relishing in the free snacks."

"Hey!"

He laughed, grabbing the bag of your little snack haul, and smoothly looped your arms back together.

"Weeelll," he hummed, "now you get to say with certainty that all this here's from me. And I get to do this…"

The minute you stepped outside the convenience store, he leaned down to give you a soft kiss. And again, you'd think—there couldn't possibly be a cozier place to be than right here with him in this moment.

"…You don't need to use gifts from someone else to get me snacks anymore," you laughed a little.

"Mhm, I can get 'em for you myself. And seal it with a lil kiss."

taglist : @darlingdummycassandra @daturasflower @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @xai-mery @pikachuzhc @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @hunters-association

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. lnds writings ☆ 》#・❥・ caleb comfort fics 🍎 𖹭 #(I'M BACK 🥹🫶)#(roxie your caleb fics are truly my comfort fics i love them so much pls don't ever delete them or i'll cry ;~;)#(i've read this like four times now and also with the song playing too and i am just so 🥺🥺🥺)#'almost as if he hadn't been all over you just a couple of minutes ago' — HELLO. I ALMOST DROPPED MY PHONE EARLIER WHEN I READ IT AT WORK #'you should be a good girl and get some rest' — 🫠🫠🫠 i liked this line a little too much #unfortunately men pulling a 'good girl' will.....have positive results with me 😔👉👈 /tmi sorry lmao <333 #'as if he hadn't left enough of his own marks on you that night' — 👀👀👀#'I hope you know that I love seein' you in my clothes' — wearing caleb's clothes is literally my favorite thing ever omg 🥹🥹🥹#you have no idea how much i smile whenever i get to this part 🥹#'he squeezed your hand and quietly put it into his pocket' — omg i am going to squeal this is so sweet and cute #'a flick to your forehead' — akffasklksaf;fs;f ok fair lmao #YES ANNOYED!CALEB LMAO <33333 #the way they're reminiscing about their school days 🥺🥺🥺#the way he's always been observant and attentive 🥺🥺🥺#this fic is everything i could have ever wanted #it is SO SWEET #AND ADORABLE #AND THE LIGHT HUMOR #IT TRULY FEELS COZY TOO #the way this fic literally healed me and made this actually rather crummy week so much better 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺#roxie bb you have my eternal love tysm for writing this absolute gem #istg i am going to reread it so many times i'll start memorizing everything word-for-word lol :') <33333 #(ALSO YAY NEW SONG TO ADD TO MY CALEB PLAYLIST LMAO <333)#(ILY WISHING YOU ETERNAL HAPPINESS AND SWEET DREAMS AND TO ALWAYS BE LOVED AND BLESSED 💖💖💖💖💖)

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sknyuz · 28 days ago

Text

heavy lifting | k.m.g.

synopsis: you're struggling to get out of a bad academic slump, feeling overwhelmed by the constant pressure of grades and the inability to focus. after a few failed attempts to get motivated, you decide to do something different—start going to the gym. at first, it’s just about getting out of the house, but that all changes when mingyu, the gym’s resident greek god, notices you. no amount of reps or cardio can compare to how fast your heart races every time you cross paths, and it becomes impossible to ignore a six-foot tall kim mingyu.

pairing: mingyu x reader (ft. dino and riize wonbin + roommate!jeonghan)

genre: college au, romance, smut (18+ markers for start and end if you wanna skip), fluff, slice-of-life, slow-burn, gym buddy!mingyu

warnings: slightly awkward moments, gym-related humor, slow-burn, soft smut, heavy flirting, unprotected sex (do not do this lol), aftercare <333, making out with random ppl at a party, alcohol consumption, y/n is an absolute LOSERRRRR, profanity of course, mentions of body image (positive)

wc: ~8.5k

a/n: oh my godddd it’s finally here !! my first full fic <333 tysm for 500+ notes on the preview alone like ??? taglist is massive as well so that will be placed under the cut ^^~ shoutout to @meltinghershey, @mochisdayone, and @tigerhoshii for beta reading and dealing with my chaos lmaooo. hope u enjoy <33

masterlist

˚₊‧꒰ა taglist under the cut ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

@tigerhoshii @meltinghershey @amingo046 @drewstarkeygf @producedbyjeon @seokminfilm @mmessier31 @janeluvwonuuuu @boxsmil3 @inthetangerine @ateez-atiny380 @bunnymjr @producedbyjeon @bookandarrow @bemysolaces @ahloveisu @ninigyuuu @mochisdayone @cara-tiny @parkersroses @jeonghnie @dmstoyangyang @luxynjun @miraclekay97 @anniewings @acherry04 @adribobadri @kidultdays @kari-nne @shayminssi @tangerin3gurl @gyucheols-girl @whoisbaek15 @intrnetbbysworld @tymbarki @alien0n3arth

you’ve always been the kind of person who keeps yourself busy. your friends say you get “flustered” a lot, but you know it’s less about nerves and more about not seeing the point in stretching out conversations when you could be doing something useful. you’re good with people — you can hold small talk, swap stories, even keep up in a group chat when you need to — but it never feels as rewarding as finishing a project or getting ahead on an assignment. practical, that’s what you are. efficient with your time. so when the stress of midterms and the constant pressure to stay ahead starts to pile up, you fall into a familiar cycle of overworking without actually getting anywhere.

jeonghan, your roommate, always tells you to “take a break” when he finds you buried under a pile of textbooks, but you ignore him. while your dorm neighbor, seungkwan, who’s become your unofficial therapist, insists that maybe a change of scenery might help, but you brush it off. you don’t know what’s worse—failing or the thought of being the one who’s not keeping up with the others.

that’s when you decide to take a leap. you’re not sure if it’s just the idea of doing something different, or the fact that every other option has failed, but you sign up for the gym. you’re not sure what you’re expecting—just that you need to shake things up.

the first day is terrible. you’re awkwardly trying to figure out how machines work, watching everyone around you who seems like they know what they’re doing, while you’re stuck on a treadmill wondering if you’re supposed to be running or walking faster.

that’s when he notices you.

kim mingyu.

he’s not hard to spot—tall, broad-shouldered, a greek god in a compression shirt, with muscles you can’t even begin to fathom. you try not to stare, but your eyes can’t help it. he’s on the other side of the room, lifting weights with ease, his form flawless. you can’t even imagine having a fraction of that confidence. you turn back to your treadmill, your face flushed as you try to focus on not tripping over yourself.

but then, out of nowhere, he’s right there in front of you.

“hey, are you new here?” his voice is so casual, but your heart skips a beat at the sound of it. “first time at the gym?”

you freeze, where the fuck did he come from?

pretty hard not to spot a giant like kim mingyu walking towards you, y/n.

without thinking, you mumble, “oh shit—” and immediately stumble forward. you try to catch yourself but end up tripping over your own feet, your hands flailing to find balance.

“whoa!” mingyu’s quick reflexes kick in, and before you know it, he’s right there, steadying you with one hand on your shoulder. “you okay?” he asks, voice tinged with concern, but there’s a hint of amusement in his smile.

you gulp, heart racing. “i—yeah. i just—uh, didn’t see you coming.” you let out a pathetic laugh, heat flooding your cheeks.

mingyu chuckles, his laugh deep and warm. “i kind of figured. you look like you’re on the verge of a wipeout.”

you can’t help but give a lopsided smile, despite your embarrassment. “thanks… i guess,” you mutter, still trying to regain your composure.

“don’t worry about it,” he says with a friendly smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “you’re still alive, so that’s a win in my book.”

and just like that, mingyu’s gone, back to his workout as if he hadn’t just saved you from making a fool of yourself in front of everyone.

for the next few days, mingyu’s presence haunts the gym. you see him everywhere—lifting weights, chatting with people, giving advice, being… well, perfect. and all you can do is watch from the sidelines, still too embarrassed to approach him, but also unable to tear your eyes away.

there’s something so confident about him, so effortlessly kind, and you begin to notice the way he always looks out for people. he’s just a regular guy, right? except he’s mingyu, and somehow, he makes everything look effortless.

oooh, and those. arms.

and you? well, you’re still stumbling through the basics. and you learned pretty early on that no amount of cardio can beat your heartrate every time your gaze catches a sight of kim mingyu.

“y/n, you’re going again?” jeonghan asks, raising an eyebrow as you tie your sneakers, preparing for yet another trip to the gym.

“yeah, i—um, just need to clear my head,” you mumble, looking down at your shoes to avoid his teasing gaze.

jeonghan grins. “mhm, sure you do. so, what? you’ve got your eyes on some hunk down there?” he teases, making air quotes with his fingers, clearly referring to some “eye candy” at the gym. “someone’s been going to the gym a lot recently…”

you freeze, trying to play it cool. “what?” you ask, slightly panicking. “no, i-i’m just, you know, trying to get out of a rut with my studies. nothing else.”

jeonghan watches you carefully, then his eyes widen. “wait… there is someone, isn’t there?” he grins widely, and it suddenly hits you. “wait, y/n, don’t tell me that it’s kim mingyu? the gym’s golden boy?” he laughs, clearly amused by your flustered face.

you freeze in shock. “what? no—he’s just a guy who works out a lot! i mean, yeah, he’s nice, but it’s not like—”

jeonghan bursts out laughing. “so you do know him! oh, honey, don’t even try to act like you’re not into him. everyone knows who mingyu is. have you seen him? dude’s got the perfect physique, perfect grades, perfect car, and perfect everything. i’ve heard he’s loaded too. his dad’s some big-time olympic weightlifting official. he’s literally the walking definition of the ‘golden boy’ on campus.”

you blink, your mind struggling to keep up with the avalanche of information. “wait… the olympics? his dad?”

jeonghan nods. “yeah, exactly. i’ve heard he comes from a pretty well-off family too. so yeah, mingyu’s literally perfect. it’s no surprise that he’s in everyone’s top ten crush list.”

you feel your face heating up as the realization settles in. “oh my god…”

jeonghan chuckles, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. “don’t worry, y/n. if you want to stare at a perfect person in peace, you just gotta deal with the fact that you’re not the only one who has their eyes on him.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. “stop teasing me,” you mumble, but there’s no denying the fact that you’re definitely starting to feel a little more… interested than you’d like to admit. but it’s just a silly gym crush. definitely.

as if he wasn't already a regular in your daydreams, you bump into him again, outside of the gym this time.

the first time is when you’re standing outside the lecture hall, waiting for class to start, fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie. your mind’s still racing from last night’s study session, and you’re so absorbed in your thoughts that you barely notice when the doors to the hall open. as you look up, though, you catch a glimpse of a familiar face.

mingyu.

he’s wearing his usual easy-going smile, his gym bag slung casually over one shoulder, walking right into the building like he owns the place. you stare at him, frozen, as your heart rate picks up. he’s in your class?

“y/n?” a voice snaps you out of your trance.

you look over to see jeonghan, who raises an eyebrow at your flushed face. “you okay?” he asks, his lips quirking into a teasing smile as he follows your line of sight.

“uh, yeah… just didn’t expect to see… him.” you try to sound casual, pointing toward mingyu, but your voice cracks slightly.

jeonghan looks over, nonchalant, as if he didn’t just see your face turn fifty shades of red. “oh. him. so, you’re saying you haven’t noticed our campus' very own golden boy in your minor classes? phys ed major, i heard.”

“he’s a…?” you blink, confused.

“yeah,” jeonghan smirks, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “mingyu. doesn’t surprise me, though. he’s always around. always looks like he’s got his life together, the body of a perfect poster boy for fitness promos in those gyms across town.”

you watch mingyu walk into the lecture hall, now knowing the one thing that had never occurred to you: he’s actually here, at the same school as you. sharing a class with you, at that.

it’s like a punch to the gut. of course he is.

and you? you’re here, stumbling through calculus with a mountain of textbooks you can never seem to get through.

but you can’t stop thinking about how easy mingyu makes everything look.

turns out… going to the gym wasn’t the worst decision you’ve ever made.

you weren’t exactly sculpting a six-pack yet, but you didn’t feel like complete shit all the time now. your brain fog was thinning, your mood was lighter, and you kinda liked walking past your reflection and noticing how your arms didn’t look so soft anymore. jeonghan had clocked it too.

“look at you,” he teased one night while you were getting ready for another house party he dragged you to. “all swole and glowy. is this a gym glow? did mingyu spot you or something?”

you rolled your eyes, fumbling with a random lock of your hair. “well… he’s definitely a looker, i do think it wouldn’t hurt to gawk at him wearing a compression shirt a few times a week.” you admitted, trying to keep your voice casual but you could already feel the heat crawling up your neck.

jeonghan gasped, immediately abandoning his lip balm to lean closer. “no way. tell me more.”

you huffed, giving in. “he’s just—okay, he’s really tall. and stupidly buff. and he always looks like he walked out of some greek mythology fanfic. and he’s nice?? like unfairly nice.”

“oh, babe. poor you. no one comes out of a gym crush on him alive.”

you both laughed it off, but the truth was… you were actually starting to enjoy the gym. not just for the obvious eye candy, but because it made you feel good. and you were slowly clawing your way out of that academic slump one sweat-soaked session at a time.

and parties helped too.

jeonghan had been on a social streak lately, dragging you to every decent gathering he caught wind of. and for once, you weren’t staying glued to the walls. you mingled, you danced, you maybe flirted a little.

like that one night with the guy named chan.

cute boy. bright smile. quick to pour you a drink and compliment your hair. he was a little too eager, but harmless. you didn’t mind giving him a peck on the cheek, his cheeks blushing a dusty pink in response.

“what year are you in?” you asked casually over the music.

“i’m a sophomore!” he beamed.

“oh,” you blinked. “you’re...”

his smile faltered a little at your sudden reluctance. jeonghan appeared at your elbow at the perfect moment, smirking. “poor kid. you just got downgraded to ‘little brother’ status.”

chan pouted but took it like a champ, even offering to get you another drink before you politely excused yourself. harmless. kinda endearing, honestly.

but the real kicker came a week later.

you were halfway through a very sad attempt at curling a dumbbell too heavy for your current strength level when someone suddenly appeared in your peripheral vision.

“oh, hey,” a boy with bright eyes and soft features said, slightly breathless like he’d jogged over. “you’re… y/n, right?”

you blinked. “um— yeah?”

“i—i’m chan.”

“nice to meet you, chan.” wait.

you stopped your reps abruptly.

he rubbed the back of his neck, looking nervous. “i, uh, think we met at that party last week?”

oh no.

the pieces clicked a little too late in your brain, but they did click. he was the cute guy who’d offered you a drink and talked you up, and you, in a half-drunk, affectionate spiral, gave him a kiss on the cheek before finding out he was way too young to be your type, jeonghan saving you as you both run away, making a break for the kitchen.

he looked so hopeful now it physically hurt.

before you could fumble out an apology or awkwardly escape, a very familiar voice called over from the other side of the room.

“yo, chan! quit slacking, get your ass over here.”

mingyu.

he was leaning against the leg press, towel draped over his shoulder again like a damn fitness magazine model. chan gave you an apologetic little smile and jogged over.

you took a moment to quietly die inside.

and then—as if fate wasn’t already laughing at you—mingyu clapped a hand on chan’s shoulder and grinned, talking loud enough for you to catch while pretending not to.

“this kid’s soft as hell, y’know that? started hitting the gym ‘cause some girl at a party broke his heart.”

you nearly choked on your water.

oh my god.

it was you. you were the girl.

mingyu didn’t know, of course. he was teasing chan like a big brother would, completely unaware that the object of the kid’s little tragedy was currently staring wide-eyed at her reflection in the nearest mirror.

you quickly turned away, pretending to be very interested in adjusting your earbuds (it wasn’t even connected to your phone).

fuck. fuckfuckfuck.

it had been a week or so since your… unfortunate run-in with chan at the gym. you’d done your best to laugh it off, though the way mingyu casually mentioned some poor kid started training because of a heartbreak at a frat party had you spiraling internally for a solid three business days. because what were the odds? your chan? apparently heartbreak over a 15 minute encounter was a hell of a pre-workout.

either way, you were ready to get back out there. another weekend, another party—fingers crossed you wouldn’t unknowingly crush some poor guy’s spirit this time and discover their glow-up arc at the campus gym. you sent up a silent prayer as you got dressed, hoping the universe would cut you some slack for once.

you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been a little more… experimental with your outfits lately. nothing wild, just a few tops cropped a little higher, jeans sitting a little lower. maybe if you showed a bit of skin, you’d start to feel as hot as you hoped you looked. besides—you’d been busting your ass at the gym. you deserved to show it off a little.

“okay, i see you!” jeonghan wolf-whistled from the other side of the room when you stepped out of your closet. “damn, baby, if i didn’t know you were one tragic gym crush away from full insanity, i’d think you were tryna pull tonight.”

“maybe i am,” you teased, smoothing your hands down your sides, a little proud of how good you felt lately. maybe it was the gym, maybe it was the new skincare routine seungkwan bullied you into, maybe it was pure spite toward every man who’d ghosted you, but you were glowing a bit, and you weren’t about to waste it.

jeonghan grabbed his keys and slung an arm over your shoulders. “alright, let’s go break hearts—consensually.”

the party was already in full swing when you got there, neon lights bleeding into every room, the bass so deep it made the walls thrum. you lost jeonghan somewhere between the kitchen and the makeshift dancefloor, though not before downing two shots together like some chaotic ritual.

an hour later you were a little tipsy, flushed from dancing, with the beginnings of a hangover clawing at the edges of your brain when you found yourself leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping on lukewarm water. you’d just successfully escaped making out with some ridiculously pretty boy named wonbin you barely knew. his hands had been nice, sure, but his cologne was giving you a headache and you had a 10 a.m. gym session you weren’t about to flake on.

“look at you,” a familiar voice teased, low and warm and way too close to your ear.

you turned your head—and there was mingyu, grinning down at you, tight black polo stretched over his chest and looking like he’d walked out of a men’s fitness ad. or maybe a sin. who could say.

“don’t tell me you’re partying too,” you half-giggled, setting your cup down. “and here i thought you were some gym purist.”

“could say the same for you,” mingyu shot back, leaning against the counter beside you. “what kind of maniac hits the gym after a night at a rager?”

you let out a laugh, the alcohol making you bolder than usual. “an insane one, apparently.”

your gaze dropped—you couldn’t help it—to the way his biceps flexed as he lifted his drink. god, you were barely sober and apparently even less subtle. before your brain could stop you, your hand reached out and squeezed his arm.

a full, proper squeeze.

and then you registered what you’d just done.

“oh my god,” you blurted, snapping your hand back like it burned. “i can’t believe i just did that. i’m so sorry—”

mingyu just barked out a laugh, reaching out to catch your wrist before you could flee the kitchen entirely. “nah, it’s cool. you like it that much, huh?”

his grin was sharp, teasing, and you were definitely too sober for this now. your pulse jumped as his fingers slid from your wrist to your hand, giving it a little squeeze back before letting go.

“i—” you started, but your brain short-circuited.

mingyu tilted his head, still smiling. “come on, i’ll walk you back. wouldn’t wanna lose our future gym freak to some frat house debauchery.”

the walk back was… quieter than you expected. not awkward, just easy. mingyu had one hand shoved into his pocket, the other loosely holding the bottle of water he’d swiped for you on the way out. the cool night air sobered you up faster than any coffee could’ve, but it didn’t stop the way your heart kept doing this stupid little jump every time your arms brushed.

you should’ve felt bad about ditching jeonghan—traitor behavior, honestly. but in your defense, he’d disappeared into a dark corner with someone you swore was a philosophy major who looked like trouble, so technically you were both abandoning each other tonight. friendship cancelled out.

“you good?” mingyu asked, glancing down at you.

you hummed. “better now. needed that fresh air.”

mingyu’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “told you. you’re almost as insane as me.”

you snorted. almost. the man had a literal six-pack under that shirt and probably ran marathons for fun. meanwhile, you nearly keeled over after fifteen minutes on the treadmill your first week.

by the time you reached your dorm building, the campus had quieted down. only the hum of street lamps and the occasional tipsy laughter echoing from other party stragglers.

you fished your keys out of your bag, hands clumsy from a mix of nerves and residual buzz. mingyu leaned against the wall by your door, watching you with that same soft amusement you hated how much you liked.

and you weren’t drunk anymore. you couldn’t blame it on that. not the flutter in your stomach. not the way your fingers twitched at your side.

you liked to believe it was the alcohol, but you knew better. because even sober, even under these shitty yellow hallway lights, mingyu looked unfairly good. and you were still a little bit of a loser inside.

you swallowed, gripping your keys too tight before blurting out, way too fast, “do you—wanna come in? or, i mean, just for a bit. like—i have snacks. and, uh. water. and… i guess my air conditioning’s nice.”

jesus christ.

your voice cracked a little at the end and you wanted to throw yourself out a window.

mingyu’s brow arched in surprise for half a second before a slow grin spread across his face. not cocky. not smug. just… warm. maybe a little endeared.

“snacks and air conditioning, huh?” he teased, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. “hard to say no to that.”

your ears burned. “it’s fine if you’re tired or whatever—”

but he was already stepping forward, hand reaching to nudge the door open when you finally got the key to work.

“lead the way, gym buddy.”

and god help you, you did.

you don’t know what possessed you. maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way mingyu looked under those shitty streetlights, hair a little messy, grin too easy. either way, you were now standing in your tiny dorm, watching him take a seat on your bed like he’s been here a hundred times before.

and you? you were having a mental breakdown.

“oh my god, what am i doing,” you muttered under your breath, moving to your tiny fridge to grab two bottled waters like your life depended on it. your hands shook a little, and you cursed yourself for acting like you’d never had a boy in your room before — let alone this boy. this unfairly gorgeous, golden boy, smile-that-can-take-down-roman-empires , literal greek god of a man—kim mingyu.

“you good?” mingyu chuckled, and when you turned, he was grinning at you, legs spread lazily, leaning back on his hands like he owned the place. “you’re acting like you just smuggled me in past your strict parents or something.”

you huffed out a laugh, plopping down a water bottle next to him on the bed and keeping a very respectful distance on the opposite side. “sorry. i just—this wasn’t planned. like at all.”

mingyu shrugged, cracking open the bottle. “spur of the moment’s fun sometimes.”

you eyed him, unsure what to do with yourself, fidgeting with the label on your own bottle. “if you wanna head back to the party, you totally can. i mean, i’m tucking in for the night anyway. i promise i’m completely sober now, so no babysitting required.”

he looked at you, one brow raised, a teasing glint in his eye. “and miss out on the snacks and air conditioning you promised? no way.”

you rolled your eyes but smiled, heart doing its usual ridiculous flip when his knee brushed yours. casual. accidental. but you felt it all the same.

“plus,” mingyu added, leaning a little closer, voice dropping in that way that made your stomach twist up in knots. “what about our gym sesh tomorrow? together?”

you blinked. “our… what now?”

he laughed, reaching over to pluck the bottle from your hands and set it aside like you were both settling in for a long talk. “you’ve been avoiding me at the gym, you know.”

“i have not—”

“have too.”

your face warmed again. “okay, maybe a little. it’s intimidating, okay? you’re like… you.”

mingyu’s grin softened, eyes crinkling into those damn crescent moons. “i’m just a dude, y/n. and apparently, i’m now a dude who ditches parties for you.”

your head spun.

“you’re insane.” you try to brush it off.

“almost as insane as you.” he pushes further.

you laughed, the sound filling the room like something easy, and when mingyu’s hand found yours for half a second—a fleeting touch, a gentle squeeze before letting go — you didn’t even think about pulling away.

and you know what? maybe jeonghan was right. maybe you did have a type.

snack wrappers littered your coffee table, the air conditioning blasting at a level jeonghan would dramatically declare a war crime if he were here. you glanced over at mingyu, who looked far too at home on your couch, long legs stretched out, hair a little messy, that annoyingly perfect face lit by the glow of the tv screen playing some random old action movie neither of you were really watching.

“you don’t mind me staying over, do you?” mingyu asked, suddenly, tone so casual it made your brain short-circuit.

you choked on your water. “w-what? no! i mean—no, not at all! you can stay. totally. of course. i mean, obviously you’re gonna be on the couch, hahah, it’s totally fine, not weird at all.”

he raised a brow at you, clearly amused. “didn’t even ask to share the bed, y/n.”

“right! of course. couch it is.” you fumbled, standing up a little too quickly. “i’m—gonna wash up.”

you darted toward the balcony, trying not to faceplant on the way, heart hammering so stupidly hard in your chest it felt like a crime. outside, the night air was cool against your skin, and you grabbed a hanger off the clothesline — one of jeonghan’s oversized shirts and a pair of old sweatpants, thankfully dry and still carrying a faint scent of clean detergent and your roommate’s obnoxiously expensive cologne.

when you stepped back inside, mingyu was still sprawled on the couch, only now looking over his shoulder at you with a soft little grin. you cleared your throat, holding up the clothes. “these should fit. jeonghan’s taller than me, but probably not as tall as you, but he loves baggy clothes, so… y’know. good enough.”

“they’ll be perfect.” mingyu smiled, and you couldn’t believe how easy it looked on him.

you escaped to the bathroom, scrubbing your makeup off and washing up as fast as humanly possible, trying not to analyze your reflection too hard, might risk an existential crisis if you did. when you came out, hair wet and towel draped over your head, you froze.

because mingyu was already changed.

and holy shit—jeonghan’s oversized clothes looked offensively good on him. the shirt stretched just enough over his broad shoulders, the sweatpants hung low on his hips, and he gave you that soft, grateful grin like he wasn’t lowkey ruining your life.

“thanks for this, by the way.” he said, plucking a stray thread off the hem of his sleeve.

you nodded wordlessly, eyes shamelessly fixed on him now, not even bothering to pretend otherwise. your feet carried you over to grab your own water bottle, and then—because your brain was fried and you didn’t know what else to do with yourself—you dropped down cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, towel still draped over your head, grabbing the remote with one hand and surfing aimlessly through streaming services, while the other dried your hair with the towel.

mingyu leaned forward. “give me that.”

you blinked, snapping out of your momentary daze. “huh?”

“your towel,” he said, grinning like it was the most natural thing in the world. “your hair’s dripping. let me dry it.”

“you don’t have to—”

“i want to.” he smiles. that damn smile again.

and because you were a fool, you let him.

he sat on the couch, legs on either side of you, the towel over your head as his hands worked gently, drying your hair with easy, practiced motions. his fingers brushed the nape of your neck, and your heart straight-up stopped functioning properly. the domesticity of it all, the weird, too-close familiarity, it was driving you absolutely insane.

you swallowed hard, your cheeks heating up so bad you were thankful your wet hair could still pass for cold skin. and maybe it was the way his thumb lingered on your jaw, just a little too long, or the fact that his legs bracketed yours like some kind of ridiculously domestic setup—either way, you felt that invisible line between you both shift. and for the first time since this night started, you weren’t sure if you wanted to stay on the safe side of it.

“there,” mingyu murmured after a while, pulling the towel off your head with a final little tousle, his voice low and weirdly fond. “all good.”

you fiddled with the hem of your shorts, feeling way too aware of how close he was. the room felt quieter now, save for the hum of the air conditioning and the faint sound of the tv playing some car chase scene neither of you were watching.

“okay, so… um.” you cleared your throat, standing up abruptly. “you can take the bed. i’ll sleep on the couch.”

mingyu’s brows shot up. “what? no way.”

“what do you mean ‘no way’? you’re a guest.” you protested, already grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket from the closet.

“y/n, look at me.” he gestured down at himself, at the way his knees practically hit his chest sitting on your too-small couch. “i can’t even sit on that thing properly, let alone sleep. you’d be sentencing me to a night of back pain and leg cramps. i’m not making you sleep out here just for my sake.”

you scowled, stubborn. “but it’s my bed.”

“exactly. and it’s your apartment, so you deserve the comfy bed.”

“jeonghan’s room’s locked.” you grumbled, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt. “he never leaves it unlocked when he’s not here. no other choice.”

mingyu leaned back against the couch, flashing you a crooked grin. “then we share.”

your brain practically bluescreened.

“w-wait, what?”

“the bed. we share. it’s big enough, isn’t it?” his grin widened. “i promise not to hog the blanket.”

you opened and closed your mouth a few times, grasping for some kind of coherent argument but coming up short because damn it, he was right. the couch barely fit him sitting down—there was no way he’d be able to sleep on it comfortably. and you weren’t about to let him throw his back out for a stupid reason like this.

“fine,” you muttered, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “but stay on your side.”

“scout’s honor.” he held up two fingers in mock solemnity.

“and don’t snore.”

“i don’t snore.”

“i’ll be the judge of that.”

you grabbed your phone charger and shuffled into your room, leaving the door open behind you. mingyu followed a beat later, still grinning like the smug menace he was. and even though every rational part of your brain screamed that this was such a bad idea, a tiny, reckless voice at the back of your head whispered that maybe, just maybe, you kind of wanted to find out what it felt like to fall asleep next to someone like him.

for the record: it was totally the alcohol talking.

probably.

maybe?

…fuck.

you told yourself it was fine.

just two pals. gym buddies. campus friends. besties.

two completely platonic people sharing a bed because of spatial logistics and the cruel, unrelenting limits of furniture design.

haha.

ha.

you were malfunctioning.

you sat on your side of the bed, clutching your phone like a lifeline as mingyu tugged the blanket over himself with an ease that should not have made your stomach flip. he lay there, eyes fluttering shut almost immediately like the world’s most peaceful golden retriever, while you stared at the ceiling, brain absolutely going to hell.

‘totally normal. nothing weird. just two amigos. chingus! bros!’

you squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to sleep, repeating the words like a desperate mantra. and for a while, it worked. you drifted off into something hazy and warm, the hum of the air conditioning and mingyu’s even breathing lulling you under.

until a shift in weight on the mattress made your eyes snap open.

and you felt it—a puff of warm breath against the curve of your neck, so close you shivered.

‘oh my god.’

you yelped, a tiny, startled squeak that made mingyu jolt awake, eyes bleary and confused.

“shit— sorry! sorry, did i—” he started, voice rough from sleep.

“no, it’s— it’s okay, i just—” you flailed for words, completely undone.

he rubbed at his eyes, blinking at you with a sheepish smile. “i tend to roll over a lot when i sleep. didn’t mean to get all up in your space.”

“it’s fine,” you mumbled, cheeks burning.

he studied you for a beat, then tilted his head, grinning softly. “you sure? i mean… you didn’t seem that mad.”

you wanted to crawl under the covers and never come out.

“it was…” you swallowed. “weirdly nice.”

his grin turned smug. “yeah?”

before you could lie or backtrack, he shifted again—leaning in until his lips brushed the same spot on your neck, the featherlight contact making your skin prickle.

“like this?” he murmured, half-asleep and reckless.

you could barely breathe. “mingyu…”

your voice cracked, hoarse and small in the dark.

he hummed against your skin, one strong arm draping lazily around your waist, pulling you back against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. you could feel the steady beat of his heart, the solid warmth of his body.

“i like this,” he whispered, barely audible.

and just like that, every single one of your loser brain cells went into cardiac arrest.

his arm around your waist felt heavy. solid. grounding in a way that made your breath hitch.

and then there was his hand—splayed across your stomach, fingertips brushing the hem of your sleep shirt, barely touching skin but leaving a trail of heat in their wake. his face was still buried against your neck, his lips pressing featherlight there, like he wasn’t fully awake, like his body was moving on instinct alone.

and god, it shouldn’t have felt this good.

you swallowed, pulse stuttering in your throat, trying not to focus on the way your thighs instinctively pressed together under the covers.

‘what the fuck is wrong with me?’

this was mingyu. your gym buddy. the guy who spotted you when you were too scared to touch the free weights. the man who chugged protein shakes like water and complained about his laundry bill.

but now he was pressed up against you in your tiny dorm bed, all warm muscle and lazy affection, and you felt… something.

something low and traitorous in your stomach, fluttering sharp and hot between your legs in a way you hadn’t expected. a dull ache, a clench of nothingness that made you shift in place without meaning to.

and of course, of course, mingyu noticed.

“hm? you okay?” he mumbled, voice still husky with sleep, his hand tightening a fraction around your waist.

you let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a whimper and hoped to god it passed for sleepy noise.

“yeah,” you whispered. “just… warm.”

“you want me to move?”

the words made your stomach drop. panic spiked sharp and bright in your chest.

“no!” too quick, too loud. you winced, immediately mortified. “i mea—it’s fine. i like it.”

his smile was lazy, smug even in half-sleep. “yeah?”

you bit your lip. “yeah.”

and then his hand slid a little lower.

not on purpose—you told yourself it wasn’t on purpose—but the way his palm brushed the dip of your hip, fingers grazing bare skin, made you feel that something again.

your breath hitched.

‘oh my god.’

your brain was a storm of sirens and red flags but your body didn’t care. it was already reacting, warmth pooling in places you didn’t dare name, and you squeezed your eyes shut, praying he couldn’t tell.

but mingyu, perceptive even in sleep, let out a low chuckle against your skin.

“you’re kinda squirmy, y/n,” he teased softly.

“shut up,” you croaked, absolutely humiliated, heat rushing to your face.

he laughed, that same warm, boyish sound that always made your chest hurt, and settled in closer.

“don’t worry,” he whispered, his lips ghosting your ear. “i don’t mind.”

you didn’t know who moved first.

maybe it was the way his fingers curled against your skin, rough pads stroking just a little too slow, a little too deliberate.

maybe it was you—traitorous, loser brain short-circuiting—turning your face toward his, catching the curve of his smile in the dark.

maybe it was the sheer tension that had been crackling between you for weeks, building in glances, brushes of hands, the weight of his gaze on you across a crowded gym floor. it had to break sometime.

and it did.

because then his lips were on yours.

soft, warm, tasting faintly of the cheap beer from earlier and the mint of your toothpaste. it was clumsy at first, a messy slide of mouths and teeth, a surprised noise catching in your throat as his hand tilted your jaw, deepening the kiss.

“fuck,” you breathed when you broke apart, and mingyu just grinned against your skin.

“you sure?” he murmured, thumb stroking under your chin, eyes searching yours in the dim light.

and you—flustered, awkward, a little tipsy but painfully sober now—nodded. “yeah. yeah, i’m sure.”

he kissed you again, slower this time, one hand at the small of your back pulling you flush against him. you felt everything—the press of his chest, the solid heat of his thigh between yours, and the unmistakable, undeniable hardness against your hip.

your head spun.

‘oh my god.’

mingyu pulled back just enough to laugh, breath warm on your cheek. “now who’s feeling something?”

“shut up,” you gasped, but you were smiling, you couldn’t stop smiling, even as your face burned and your hands trembled where they clutched his t-shirt.

his thumb brushed your bottom lip. “can i—?”

“please.”

he was so gentle, like he thought you might break if he touched you wrong, murmuring your name like it was a prayer, all those muscles for show but his touch impossibly careful.

the room spun, your heartbeat louder than the air conditioner, mingyu’s breath ragged in your ear as he settled between your thighs, his hand slipping under the waistband of your shorts and—

“mingyu,” you whimpered, your voice cracking, half-laughing at yourself because holy shit this was really happening.

“i got you,” he promised, lips ghosting your jaw. “i’ll take care of you, y/n.”

and he did.

slow, achingly careful, like you were something precious—and for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe you were.

then it was a tangle of hands, mouths, clothes splayed somewhere in the dark, it was messy and desperate and you should’ve known better than to underestimate him. you’d seen those muscles at the gym, felt them under your hands—but it wasn’t until now, when he hooked your thigh over his hip and pressed you down into the mattress, that you realized just how strong he really was.

and when he flipped you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing, his palm sliding down your back in a slow, reverent stroke, your brain short-circuited.

“jesus christ,” you gasped, cheek pressed to the pillow.

“like this?” he murmured against your ear, voice low and warm.

you barely managed to nod.

he started slow, careful—his hips rolling into yours, lazy and deep, one hand laced with yours against the pillow. you felt the strain in his forearm where it bracketed your head, the soft curse in your ear at how tight you clenched around him.

then, when your hips pushed back into him, a helpless little sound catching in your throat, something in him snapped.

the next thrust was harder—not rough, but deeper, firmer, his hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that made your toes curl and your eyes squeeze shut.

“fuck—mingyu,” you choked out, hands clawing at the sheets.

he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin. “feel so good, baby,” he rasped. “been wanting this—wanted you—”

you couldn’t answer, too busy trying not to drool into your pillow as he kept going, the thick drag of him inside you dizzying. it was too much and not enough at the same time, your body trembling and brain turning to static.

every roll of his hips made your breath hitch, the room filled with the slick, filthy sound of skin against skin, the low broken noises leaving both your mouths.

and even as his pace picked up, as your body went pliant under his and your legs shook, mingyu was still achingly gentle in how he touched you—hand smoothing your hair from your face, lips brushing the back of your shoulder.

“good girl,” he groaned, voice cracking as his rhythm faltered. “fuck—‘m close—gonna—”

his hips stuttered, a deep, desperate moan spilling from his throat as he pulled out last second, rutting his cock against the curve of your ass as he came hard, hot ropes of it painting your lower back and thighs.

your body trembled, face buried in the pillow, breath ragged and uneven as you felt the warmth of it on your skin, the heavy, shaky way he exhaled against your shoulder.

and for a moment, neither of you moved—just the soft hum of the air conditioner, the buzz of blood in your ears, and the lingering ache between your thighs.

he collapsed on top of you, catching himself just in time, his strong arms holding you close as he tugged you into his chest. you were too tired to protest, too exhausted to do anything but let him hold you, feeling the heat of his body against yours.

his arms were so strong, tanned and muscular, yet the way he held you was impossibly soft. despite everything—the hours you’d spent at the gym, the newfound strength you were building—you felt so small in his hold, a feeling you couldn’t deny you loved. it wasn’t in the sense of weakness, but in how careful he was with you, how you felt like he was holding you like you were the most fragile thing in the world. his warmth, his scent—it was all consuming in the best way.

“fuck,” he whispered, his voice raw. “you’re amazing.”

you smiled, your heart fluttering, but you didn’t have the energy to respond. all you wanted to do was lie there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek as he held you close. it was almost as if the world had stopped. just the two of you, tangled in the sheets, in each other’s arms. his hand ran over your back, a soft, soothing motion that made you want to curl further into him, to let yourself fall into the safe space he’d created.

after a few quiet minutes, you felt the bed shift as mingyu reluctantly untangled himself. you made a small sound of protest, but he just chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “hang on,” he murmured. the mattress dipped again when he returned, and then—

a wet, warm cloth brushed over your skin.

your breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping before you could stop it. the gentle, careful way he wiped you down made your whole body ache in a different way, a deep, fluttery warmth blooming in your chest.

“just cleaning you up,” he said quietly, his voice so tender it made your stomach flip. “can’t have my girl falling asleep like this.”

and you would’ve made some flirty comment if you weren’t so bone-tired. though, in your haze, your eyes flickered down and caught the cloth in his hand—wait. was that… jeonghan’s shirt? you squinted, brain foggy, but you could recognize that obnoxious band tee anywhere. a breathy, disbelieving laugh slipped from your lips.

“is that—?”

mingyu grinned, clearly unbothered, continuing to wipe you down with maddening gentleness. “it’ll go missing after tonight, hope he won’t miss it.” he lets out an airy chuckle.

you wanted to laugh with him but the tenderness with every touch and wipe over your skin made your throat feel tight, your eyes blinking back slumber, overwhelmed in the best, most ridiculous way.

when he finished, he tossed the poor shirt aside and pulled you back into his arms like he’d never let go. “don’t wanna move,” he mumbled against your hair, pressing another kiss to your forehead. his arm tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “sleep. we’ve gotta be up for the gym later.”

you almost giggled, but let out a dreamy sigh instead—you were too tired, too content with the way he was holding you. the night had been a whirlwind of emotions and sensations, but here, in his arms, everything felt right. you nodded, not trusting your voice, but somehow, that was enough for him.

the room was silent now, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and your steady breaths. he shifted just slightly, ensuring you were tucked securely against him, and before long, you felt the weight of sleep tugging at your eyelids.

you drifted off, wrapped in his warmth, still feeling the echoes of everything that had happened. for once, you didn’t feel like that burned out student who can barely lift anything at the gym anymore. not when you had someone like mingyu holding you this tightly. you could lift the whole world with this euphoric feeling.

the next morning came too fast.

mingyu kissed you before he left, still smelling like your bodywash and the lingering trace of sweat and skin. you were half-asleep, face buried in your pillow as you felt the press of his lips against your temple, his voice a low murmur. “i’ll see you at the gym, cutie.”

then the door clicked shut, and you groaned into your sheets.

by the time you dragged yourself to the gym, your legs were jelly, your thighs aching in ways you hadn’t expected. you caught mingyu leaning against the front desk, grinning like he hadn’t just rearranged your guts a few hours ago.

“leg day?” he asked innocently, one brow arched.

you scowled. “i am so not doing leg day.”

he laughed—the kind of laugh that made you want to hit him and kiss him at the same time. “c’mon, i’ll go easy on you.”

“you said that last time, you liar.”

still, you let him lead you through the warm-up, pretending you weren’t staring when his shirt lifted a little, exposing tan skin and the cut of his abs. your banter bounced back and forth, teasing, smug little grins exchanged between reps. you managed to trip over your own foot during lunges, and mingyu caught you by the waist like it was nothing, steadying you with those massive hands—the same ones that held you close last night, skin to skin. before you had the chance to get over the thought, he had already tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“careful, lightweight,” he teased.

you rolled your eyes, heart pounding way too hard for a simple gym mishap.

it was gonna be a long morning.

after the gym session, you and mingyu were a mess of sweat and sore muscles, but there was still an undeniable energy buzzing between you. you didn’t want to go home yet, not when he was looking at you like that—eyes soft, smile easy, and that unmistakable pull between the two of you that hadn’t quite worn off yet.

“smoothie?” mingyu asked, his voice almost too casual, but you could tell he was trying to keep his cool.

you blinked, still trying to catch your breath after a killer session. “uh, sure, i’m down for a smoothie.”

the smoothie place was just a block away, and soon enough you were sitting at a little outdoor table with your huge cups, the kind of smoothies that were so large you could probably share with a small army. but instead, mingyu leaned toward you, grabbing one of the oversized straws and slipping it into his mouth.

“i’m serious about the flavor,” he said with a grin, “this is the one. trust me. the secret add-on’s spinach, by the way.”

you rolled your eyes and gave him a playful look, but didn’t argue. you took a sip from the same straw, the cold tang of mango, strawberry, and pineapple flooding your senses, no weird spinach flavor in sight. it tasted like summer. and something else, too—something sweet and comfortable that made you want to stay here in this moment forever.

mingyu was looking at you again, that soft, almost shy smile on his face, and for once, you didn’t feel like you wanted to leave, even if conversations stretched for hours. you didn’t feel like the try-hard academic you push yourself to be.

no, with mingyu, you were just you—the girl he had kissed and laughed with and shared a smoothie with. there were no pretenses between you two anymore, no more awkward glances or confusing feelings. it was simple. it was easy. and that made everything feel right.

“it’s good, right?” mingyu asked, taking another sip.

you smiled at him, your lips still tingling from the kiss the night before. “yeah. you were right.”

he leaned back, looking like he was about to say something, but instead, he just chuckled softly. “this smoothie tastes like something my future partner would like.”

you raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips. “bold of you to assume they’d date a guy who puts spinach in his smoothies.”

mingyu laughed, eyes crinkling. “what, you don’t think so?”

you leaned back, crossing your arms with a smirk. “guess that’s something my future boyfriend will find out.”

and with that, everything seemed to click. it wasn’t just the gym, or the smoothies, or the fact that you were already falling asleep on him every night. it was this—being with him, sharing these little moments that felt so much bigger than anything you could’ve imagined.

mingyu looked at you then, his expression soft and sincere, and you realized that this—whatever this was—was real. you weren’t just friends anymore. you weren’t just gym buddies. you were something more, and that was enough for you.

as you sat there, sipping your smoothie and enjoying the warm morning sun, you couldn’t help but smile. things with mingyu were simple, but they felt so right. and right now, that was all you needed.

a/n: phew this has been such fun to write <33 and i hope it gets as much love as its preview !! tysm to carats and other multistans ^^~ if u liked reading this, drop me a follow, lets be moots !! and feel free to send in prompts of ur favorite idols to my inbox ~ i prioritize requests and they r always open !! have a nice day every1 !!!!!!!!!!

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peanutalergy · 2 months ago

Note

would you write something where Spencer finds reader's lost cat and brings it back to her then they keep in touch + they both develop a little crush on each other?

your writing is wonderful!! <3

-🪲

tags: fluff fluff fluff but there's making out (?) idk if that counts as anything; also lots of cursing lowkey; reader is lowk penelope garcia coded

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: tysm for the req that's an adorable idea unfortunately not such great execution from my part also I wrote this in like an hour I'm so exhausted I should go to sleep but whatever I also don't know if this what you meant anon I'm sorry if it's not 😭 yeah I hate this sorry idk what to say it sucks

MISSING CAT

orange, green eyed, really chubby cat, last seen at ~3:30pm on november 9th. he will answer to garfield or little fucker; most likely the latter, despite that not being his name. he's very clingy, he’ll probably come up to you and start rubbing on your leg like the little freak he is but he's actually just a baby who needs his mom (me) so please call this number if you find him.

reward: $10 and a kiss maybe if you’re nice enough

spencer chuckled when he reached the end of the text and saw the adorable picture of a ginger fat cat. he read over the number on the poster, making sure to keep it stored in a folder at the back of his head along with the image of garfield as he returned to his walk.

not even an hour later, when walking past a not-so-nice smelling trash can, he heard some loud purring coming from one of the boxes surrounding it.

if it were any other day, he would have ignored it, guessing it's just another stray cat, but he was still thinking about garfield and his seemingly interesting owner.

“garfield…?” spencer called out from afar. silence. he took a few steps closer, trying to peek over the box while keeping his distance so as to avoid getting jumped at and attacked. “little… fucker…?” he choked over the nickname.

immediately, the animal that had been in his mind since seeing his picture jumped out of the box, purring louder as he started rubbing on spencer’s legs. he chuckled despite being scared.

garfield wasn't nearly as well kept then as he was in the picture, due to the days he had been on the streets. still chubby, but dirty and with a few patches of dried blood in his fur. spencer tried to move away, seeing his pants getting smudged, but the cat just started following him.

spencer pulled out his phone and started dialing the number seen on the poster, still trying to avoid the animal. after a few rings, you picked up.

“hello?...”

“hi, is this garfield’s, uh… owner?”

“yeah, why? have you found him...?”

“i think i did, yeah.”

“oh my god, wait, actually? is he okay? are you serious?” you mumbled excitedly, sitting up from the position you were comfortably lying in, the show on your tv already forgotten.

“i am serious, yeah. i'm just out on a walk, and, uh… he was in a box near a trash can. he's all dirty and bloody, but he seems okay.”

“my poor baby” you said with a pout “where are you? wait– who are you? who do i owe my son’s life to? my savior, my hero?”

“oh, i’m just… just spencer, really.” he said with an awkward chuckle, giving in and leaning down to caress the cat, who immediately leans into his hands as if he's never been pet before, “spencer reid.”

“mm, cool. anyway, where are you? i’m going to pick him up. tell him mommy’s coming. actually maybe don't. don't refer to me as mommy, please.”

“uh, well, i wouldn't mind dropping him off at your place, if you want.”

“i thought you were on a walk? you're gonna walk all the way to my apartment with that fucker in your arms?”

“yeah, so… yeah, actually. does he… is he fine with being carried?”

“oh, totally, he loves uppies, but it's–”

“sorry, what? uppies??” he cut you off, confusion and disbelief clear in his voice.

“yeah…? uppies… like… when you carry an animal? in your arms?...” a bleach and tone, like???

“oh, okay…”

“yeah, so, he loves uppies. but it's just inconvenient, no? carrying him like that? where even are you, dude? is it not far?”

after you tell him your address, spencer decided it's close enough to walk there with an overweight cat in his arms. however, when he took forty minutes to show up at your door, panting and sweaty, you realized that probably wasn't a good idea.

“jesus, man, you could've just said you can't walk that long with this fucker.” you said as you opened the door, letting him in and taking the cat in your arms, talking to him in that tiny, baby voice. “oh my god, my baby, thank you so much. you poor thing. where were you, sweetheart? i missed you so so so much…”

spencer stood awkwardly in the doorway, wiping away the dirt that the animal left in his shirt, as you kept mumbling to him.

it must have been around another half hour before you set him down on the ground again, but when you did so, you looked at spencer and gasped, “oh, where are my manners? i'm so sorry, i forgot you were there. come in, jesus, come on in.”

he walked in, and after offering him a glass of water, you led him to sit on the couch. settling awkwardly beside you, he said “so, uh… is he alright? hurt..?”

“no, he's okay. i mean, as far as i can tell. not a vet, or anything. i don't think the blood is his… although that doesn't make it any less worrying. i'll give his vet a call. maybe stop by the clinic. yeah, i should probably stop by the clinic, shouldn't i?”

“yeah, probably. does he have all his vaccines?”

“of course.”

“still, there's a chance he would have caught a disease or eaten something that could have been infected. it's always good to make sure.”

“yeah, i know. i’ll give them a call, see if they can see us today.” you said, to which spencer replied with a nod, the two of you falling silent for a moment. “oh, right, the reward.”

you stood up and walked to the table, taking your wallet and a $10 bill from it. “there's no need, really… it's okay. don't worry about it” he argued, shaking his head when you offered him the money.

“no, oh my god, no, this is the least i can do. you walked so far, with that little heavy fucker. please, just take this. actually, you deserve more. i can barely handle to hold him for more than a few minutes, i'm not sure how you–” you look him up and down “–managed to walk with him for so long. just take the money.” you mumble, taking another bill from your wallet and handing it to him.

"no, no, really, it's fine, i swear."

"no, stop it. you're not leaving until you take this money."

he took it with a scoff, seeing how you won't take no for an answer.

“i should give you the other part of the reward, too.” you said with a chuckle as you sat back down beside him.

“what, the kiss?” he stammered, shaking his head as his face goes red and his eyes widened slightly.

“yeah, you want it?” he started stuttering when you said that, so before he got a proper word out, you added “nah, man, i'm just joking. i put that there to be funny, i'd never kiss a stranger like that.”

“oh, yeah, that… that makes sense.” he laughed shyly, nodding.

the cat showed up again, and you went back to talking about him, until spencer decided it's time to go home, which was only around a few hours later.

now, you're not sure when that turned into what it is now, but you're glad it did.

maybe it was the day after that, when you took garfield to the groomers, and sent spencer a picture of him when he got home, wearing the cute tie they always give him.

maybe it was when you started sending every picture you took of garfield to spencer.

or maybe it was when you started talking about things unrelated to the animal.

you're not sure. but now, spencer reid is at your place again, wearing a colorful hat and singing happy birthday to your cat.

of course, he's the only other person at the party. he's the only friend you were certain would show up. and that he did, after rambling about how the cat didn’t even know it was his birthday.

“woo hoo!! happy birthday, baby!” you exclaim when the song is over, taking the cat in your arms and giving him kisses.

“yay, happy birthday, garfield!” he says with a chuckle, petting him.

as soon as he starts getting fussy, though, you put him back down on the ground with a giggle, “yeah, yeah, off you go.”

“i did tell you he doesn't know the date he was born in.”

“well, yeah, but at least he's getting plenty of treats.” you shrug as you throw yourself on the sofa along with spencer, taking off the birthday hats and tossing them to the side. “he knows he's loved.”

“i'm sure he does” he mumbles, smiling at you softly.

“thanks, by the way” you mutter after a beat, turning to him and giving him a nod.

“for what?”

“finding him.”

“that was ages ago, you've thanked me 63 times since then.” he says with a laugh.

“it's not enough, though. he's a stupid little cat, i doubt he would have survived more time out there. you saved his life, probably.”

he nods, staying quiet for another moment.

“y'know, there is one way you could thank me.”

“yeah…?” you already know what he's talking about, he already knows that you already know. the blush in his cheeks that showed up as he said that, his fidgety fingers, the way he started avoiding your gaze.

“the, uhm… the other part of the reward…”

you'd tease him, make him actually say it, if it weren't for how anxious he looks. it physically hurts, how awkward he is.

so instead, you move your hands to his shoulders as you lean in to press your lips to his. for a second, you're scared this isn't what he was talking about. you're wondering if you've just screwed up a friendship, until he moves a shy hand up to your face.

he feels scared, at first. he holds your jaw, fingers gently tangling in your hair as he hesitantly kisses you. but when a moment goes by like that, and you move to sit on his lap, straddling his hips, it's like something within him changes.

he starts kissing you like you're the first and last thing he'll ever touch, his hands roaming down your body as he slides his tongue into your mouth. he bites and sucks at your bottom lip while his arms wrap around your waist, and your own arms go around his neck.

but a man can't live only off of his beloved’s lips. unfortunately, humans do need oxygen. so when he needs to pull away to breathe, he does so with a groan.

panting, you stare at each other with a smile, and pressing one quick peck to his lips, you whisper, “thank you.”

"no, thank you.”

#fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfic #love u #🪲#my stuff

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fics-lovebot · 2 months ago

Text

seventeen fic recs pt. 2

main masterlist - pt. 1

· ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

these are my personal favs, so pls reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

coffee talk - ( @wqnwoos ) fluff, coworker!vernon, work romance au, jwhhxsjxsjd cutee

bias - ( @wooahaes ) fluff, slice of life, vernon idol!au, you make the cats choose their svt bias, IT SO WHOLESOME :((((((((

mr. nice guy - ( @toruro ) smut, next door neighbor!joshua au, I HATE HIM skfffkjs this got me blushing and shit, he cosplays as a gentleman but he´s actually just a flirty nasty mf

confession - ( @nonranghaes ) bf!shua, fluff, slice of life, this is so cute sldfjshldjfkh

You Know What They Say About Men With Big Feet - ( @hansols-yoda-boxers ) smut, big feet, big nose, big muscles and a big dicc YUPPPPPP, seokmin has it ALL

2am conversations - ( @wqnwoos ) bf!jeonghan, slice of life, “what if crabs think that fish can fly?” “angel, it’s two in the morning,” sdkhfksb it´s cute :(((( so domesticc

the long way - ( @trblsvt ) model!jeonghan, staff!reader, UGGHHDSLHFLSKH i love this, he´s so confident and lowkey straight forward

tinted windows - ( @duhnova ) smut, ceo!hannie, panty ripper,, literally, car sex, “sir you have a meeting in twenty minutes.” “fuck that stupid meeting, i have more important things to be doing right now.” IT´S GOOD YALL

poker match - ( @hoshifighting ) smut, sub!hannie, dom!reader, famous poker player!jeonghan, famous poker player!reader. he finally meets his match in every way. I LOVEEEDDD this, it´s such a fresh concept

night time questions - ( @wqnwoos ) bf!jeonghan, fluff, LEAVE ME ALONEEEEEE THIS IS SO CUTEEE :(((( had me giggling and crying at the same time

drunk and in love - ( @97-liners ) fluff, wasted!hoshi, him in his tiger patterned-shirt, asdkjasdh he´d deff be like this, he rants about how wonderfull you are to whoever got ears, so cute

lollipops and candy bars - ( @hansols-yoda-boxers ) smut, sub!hao, reader loves to tease, cute and innocent looking reader, hao needs help lmao, "Well, I finished off my lollipop a while ago, do you have anything else I could suck on?” SKLHDLFJHKLDJ wow

clingy - ( @tomodachiii ) hubby!gyu x pregnant!reader, fluff. so you want me to kms,,THIS IS THE FLUFFIEST PIECE I´VE READ THIS WEEK (っ °Д °;)っ ilysm

sweater paws - ( @duhnova ) smut, virgin!jeonghan. yeah so i fucking love this :D literally one of the best smut pieces out there fr, so so detailed

bad girls make good boys cry - ( @duhnova ) smut. virgin!joshua. pleeeassseeeee this is so gOODD, "first of all, you rode me till i cried" IKTR!!

reaction to their s/o appearing on going seventeen - ( @welcometomyoasis ) fluff, crack. LMAOOO i loved this sm

them accidentally ditching you on your bday - ( @hannieehaee ) angst, idol!ot13 if you know me you know i´m a wHORE for an angsty fic, it just hits a certain spot on my brain idk, and this is IT, i loved both parts

menace - ( @hannieehaee ) fluff, simp!jeonghan, when you´re the only one who can deal with him. mannn why is mingyu always the target lmao

fake dating? - ( @hannieehaee ) crack, fluff, suggestive, bff to lovers. nahhh this was too funny lmao, poor vernon

whipped - ( @gi4hao ) FLUFF, bf!wonu. this is so wHOLESOME and ihateit (not) :((((( plssssss its so cuteee

when you call them by their name - ( @emocheol ) sdkhskdhf this is too good, no them panicking

12:31 am - ( @hoasvuon ) bf!jeonghan, fluff. so...i´m so in love :´)

leave your message after the beep - ( @shuaraes ) angst, ex-bf!minghao, the way this is written,, how tf doesn´t it have at leAST 1000 notes??? its crazy!

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gf2bellamy · 3 months ago

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I just want to say that I love all of your fics! They are so sweet and cute and 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Can I please request reader meeting Penelope at like a pottery club or art class or cafe or something and the two of them hit it off and become really good friends and reader mentions that her boyfriend is coming to pick her up and just gushes about how sweet he is and how much she loves him. And then Spencer shows up and Penelope is like “oh my god!!!”

coffee — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think a/n: absolutely loved this idea tysm for ur request ! <3

You took the last sip of your coffee, laughing loudly at the story Penelope had just told you.

“I cannot believe you actually said that,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief, still grinning.

Penelope simply shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Someone had to say it,” she quipped, smirking as she took another sip of her now nearly empty cup.

You had met Penelope purely by accident—a mix-up at the coffee shop when the barista had mistakenly switched your orders. You could have just exchanged cups and gone on with your day, but somehow, the two of you ended up talking. And talking.

One thing led to another, and suddenly, you were sitting together at the same table like old friends.

Now, as you noticed her cup was empty too, you felt reluctant to let the moment end.

“We should do this again,” you said, tilting your head at her.

Penelope’s eyes lit up instantly. “Yes. Yes. Most definitely yes,” she nodded enthusiastically, already reaching across the table for your phone before you could even offer it.

“I’m going out tonight with some friends from work,” she explained as she tapped her number into your contacts. “They’re wonderful people, and we’d have so much fun. You should totally come with.”

She handed your phone back, her enthusiasm contagious. You smiled, appreciating the offer, but you shook your head apologetically as you glanced at your screen.

“Can’t,” you said. “My boyfriend’s picking me up and we're grabbing dinner together.”

At that, Penelope’s brows arched with intrigue. “Boyfriend?” she echoed, her smirk returning.

You nodded, feeling warmth creep into your cheeks. “Yeah.”

Her grin widened as she leaned in slightly. “And? Tell me about this mystery man.”

You laughed softly at her curiosity, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well… he’s kind of the sweetest person I know,” you admitted, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Like, the kind of person who remembers all the little things—my favorite snacks, the way I take my coffee, even the books I say I want to read but never get around to.”

Penelope let out a dreamy sigh. “Okay, I love this already. Keep going.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “He’s ridiculously smart, but he doesn’t act like he knows everything. He’s just… thoughtful, in a way that sneaks up on you.” You glanced at your phone again, checking the time. “Like, this morning, he woke me up with pancakes. He burned the edges a little, but he still insisted on making them.”

Penelope gasped dramatically. “Okay, I’m officially obsessed with him. He sounds like a dream.”

You laughed, nodding. “He really is.”

Before Penelope could press for more details, your phone buzzed in your hand. You glanced down at the screen, your heart skipping a beat at the name flashing across it. “That’s him,” you said with a grin, slipping your phone into your pocket.

Penelope’s smirk grew as she crossed her arms. “Well, now I have to meet this perfect man of yours.”

You huffed a small laugh. “Yeah,” you admitted, checking the time. “He should be outside right about now.”

And with that, the two of you stood up, walking out of the coffee shop together.

There he was—Spencer—standing just outside with his back to you, hands casually tucked into his pockets. The familiar sight of him sent a warm flutter through your chest.

“Spencer,” you called softly, excitement bubbling in your voice as you walked toward him, a wide smile spreading across your face.

He turned at the sound of your voice, his own smile instinctive—warm, genuine. But then, just as quickly as it appeared, his expression faltered. His shoulders stiffened, his smile slipping away.

Your steps slowed. “What?” you asked, brow furrowing, your arms—once ready to wrap around him—now hanging uselessly at your sides.

His gaze wasn’t on you. It was locked onto Penelope.

The two of them stood there, staring at each other, and the atmosphere shifted dramatically. Spencer wore a shocked and worried expression, while Penelope’s face was a mask of smug satisfaction.

“Uh…” you said, glancing back and forth between them, trying to decipher the sudden tension. “Spencer, this is Penelope. I met her at the coffee shop today. And Penelope, this is Spencer, my boyfriend.” You lightly touched his arm, hoping to draw his attention back to you.

And then—

“Oh my god,” Penelope suddenly squealed, her eyes practically glowing with excitement.

You turned to her, utterly bewildered.

“Spencer Reid,” she announced dramatically, planting her hands on her hips. “How dare you hide this from me?”

Spencer, whose face had somehow turned even redder, mumbled something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch.

Penelope, however, was having none of it. She spun toward you, pointing at him. “This?! This is your boyfriend?”

“…Yes?” you said slowly, the confusion growing.

She gasped, clutching her chest as if she had just heard the most scandalous news. “The Spencer Reid you’ve been gushing about? The one who makes you pancakes and remembers every single detail about you ?”

Your mouth opened slightly as realization dawned. “Wait. You know Spencer?”

“Oh, honey.” Penelope let out an exaggerated sigh. “Know him? I work with him. He is my Spencer.”

You blinked. “Your Spencer?”

Spencer finally let out a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Garcia…”

“Reid,” she shot back with a gleeful grin.

You took a step back, looking between them, still processing. “Wait, you’re Garcia?”

Penelope gasped again, looking mock-offended. “He didn’t tell you my name? I thought we were friends now!”

Spencer rubbed his temple. “I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think?” she interrupted, feigning shock. “Did you not think I would love her?”

He sighed, defeated.

You, meanwhile, had fully shifted from confusion to amusement, the situation far funnier now that you understood. “In his defense, I only knew you as ‘Garcia.’”

“Well, that changes now!” Penelope declared, looping her arm through yours as if you had been best friends for years. “Come on, we have so much to talk about.”

Spencer sighed again, but there was a small, fond smile pulling at his lips as he watched you two.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic

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tiramissyoucake · 2 months ago

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hi, I have a viltrumite mark request! do the gifts that he gives reader vary or to him they’re all the same? like if he’s really trying to impress her and get her on board with producing heirs, is he trying to get her the most valuable gifts he could salvage after his conquest or would he not know the value of the things he’d taken? idk if this makes sense but i love your writings about him :)

Tysm!! And IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE. He regrets destroying earth too thoroughly, there's nothing to salvage to give to you, even if there was there's a chance you'd just become more upset at the memory of what once was.

A shiny gem or two from a desecrated eco-system, pretty robes that survived fires that swallowed whole towns, anything he deemed too beautiful to be destroyed would be taken back, just like how he did with you when he saved you from the sinking ship that was earth

Though this gives me a blurb idea for a Stockholm syndrome type thing *rubbing hands together mischievously*

The doors to the bedrooms creaked open, your hands pausing from toying with a gem he brought back from a planet. (One that reflects everything it shows, you saw a glimpse of his smile as he picked it up, a fire, bloodshed, beautiful but daunting.)

"I'm home, love." He announced immediately upon seeing you, setting aside some sort of satchel and walking to you, throwing away the extravagant cape and cupping your cheek to give you a brief kiss, a happy noise vibrating from his lips briefly before he parted. "I have something for you."

'Oh, joy.' You mentally rolled your eyes, glancing up from where you were sitting. "Don't you think I have enough...?" You gestured to a full closet, a vanity littered with jewels you didn't even know existed.

"No, you'll want this, trust me." He took the satchel from where it was tossed, kneeling infront of you and opening it up. "I returned to whatever remained from Earth, and... you'll be happy to know that I missed a few spots."

Mark smiled as he brought out a few rectangular shapes; the familiar scent of paper albeit yellowed, the appearance of worn edges and cracked spines. Books. Actual books. By human authors.

Your expression lit up with.. something, he couldn't discern it as he put the books down in your hands as you shuffled through them, blinking rapidly as if this was a dream.

Familiar titles you've seen in bookshops returned to you, 3 parts from 'Before the Coffee Gets Cold', 'Pride & Prejudice', 'Dracula', collections of short stories, compendiums, you saw more small books between thicker ones.

You thought you'd be angry, yet you felt strangely happy to finally feel something you were familiar with.

"Do you like it?" His smile was so big it almost hurt his cheeks, your expression gave him hope. "Alien books aren't in a scripture you can read, a-and I know there isn't much to do around here when I'm gone..."

"It's perfect." It was so small, it was almost miniscule, you're supposed to be crying, angry to be reminded of your destroyed home. "I.. I'm really happy about this, this may be the best gift you've ever given me."

This was the most Mark has ever gotten from you, the most gratitude that felt genuine. "Books, hah..! Okay! Books, I'll get you more books! Earth books! I'll scour the entire galaxy for any remains of Earthen artifacts!" He monologued excitedly, his heart soaring as you set the books down and looked up at him.

"You look beautiful when overjoyed, I should've done this– mmf!" For once, you initiated contact yourself. Lips pressing against his, Mark melted into a moan as his arms looped around you, leaning up to take more from you.

"Thank you— I don't know how to explain but... thank you—" He shushed you, kissing the corner of your lips, your cheek, your forehead.

"I understand, there's nothing like... home." He begrudgingly called that failing planet your home, as opposed to Viltrum's accommodations. "You know... maybe you could read some of these to our children, in the future."

Your vulnerability was what he was waiting for, a chance to strike to bring up the conversation again. "You're kidding, I don't know if kids can read these..." You were too caught up in the worn cut-up corners of the book to use your usual mind-games, sighing. "... Mark, thank you."

You didn't notice the suspicious smile, the lidded dark gaze that appeared on his face as he stood up while you decided on which book to read. "You're welcome. You're always welcome, love."

#your stars have aligned .•°✧✦✧#invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader

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gothicfied · 4 months ago

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(Squid game s2) Can you write a comfort fic about an insecure reader has past trauma and has endured Highschool bullying. When she joins the games and is in the group (Gi-hun, Dae-ho, Jun-hee & others) but once they meet Jun-hee she gets pushed aside and has to join another group in the second game. Feel free to change or add anything, the pairing could be Daeho x reader but it’s up to you <33

Never alone again - Kang Dae-ho / Player 388

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 x Reader

Summary: After seeing you almost die, Dae-ho swore he wouldn't leave your side ever again.

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, gunshots (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Word Count: ~ 1.2k

A/N: hii! tysm for the request and I hope I did it justice.

You believed Gi-hun from the start. You believed he was right, no sane person would just say stuff like that, right? That they kill each player who gets eliminated? He seemed too damn serious for it to be a lie. And lo and behold, he was right. People. Shot dead. Right in front of you. Red-Light-Green-Light was a traumatic experience. You wanted to quit, you wanted to go home, go home and hug your parents and just be grateful to still be alive.

It was like the universe had turned against you. How wasn't everyone scared out of their minds like you? Was money really all that mattered to them? A heated discussion broke out during the first voting, angry voices yelling at each other, accusing Gi-hun of lying. You took all the courage you had left in you to try and stand up for him, at least make it known that you sided with him. Past experiences, especially your school time, usually made it hard for you to speak up, but that shouldn't really be an issue right now — You could end up dead, that's what worried you. After the voting, that didn't go your way at all, Gi-hun showed gratitude for your courage to say something and suggested you'd stick with him from now on.

Added to your group were In-ho, the last player who actually voted 'O', Jung-bae and Dae-ho, who were both former marines. While eating the lunch provided to you by the guards, those two immediately bonded over their former occupation, which you found endearing. Even though you were currently still to shy to join in on their conversations, you were content with just having a group you could stick to — Because you were sure you absolutely wouldn't survive in here alone.

"And, what's your name?" Dae-ho asked, as hd took a seat on the stairs next to you, happily eating his food. When you told him he gasped, almost chocking in the process. "That's my sisters name!" he laughed, nudging your shoulder with his. You just replied with a little "Oh? No way." and then he began rambling about his life, about his four sisters, about how his father sent him to be a marine and so on. He closed his monologue saying "Anyway, that's a really pretty name." and then proceeded to ask you for your leftover food. He made you laugh, which was nice considering you all were stuck in this hellhole.

In Dae-ho's opinion, you two had a lot in common, even if you didn't at all. He suggested you slept in the bed right under his which was.. well, free now after the first game. At night, you couldn't help but overthink your interactions with not only him, but the other three guys, too. They were so nice and welcoming. All of them had a special attribute that will probably be useful in the coming few days.. and you? You had the feeling that you brought nothing to the table.

The next day, a vast majority of the players went into the second game with the impression that this will be Dalgona, like Gi-hun predicted. Apparently not. The female voice over the speakers ordered the players to form groups of five. "Ah, how perfect," In-ho smiled, "guess we'll be a group then." You looked between the men, nodding in agreement and just when you were about to say something-

"Excuse me, are you maybe searching for one more person-?"

"Oh, no I'm sorry, we're actually already five peo-"

"I'm pregnant."

The girl cut Jung-bae off, resting her hands on her pregnant belly. You raised your eyebrows in shock and no one really seemed to know what to do next. Oh, you felt bad for her. She must've been very desperate if she entered the games while being pregnant. You five were just looking at each other confused, until you took a deep breath: "It's okay, I'll find another group. She needs to be with people she can absolutely win with." You looked at the girl and she looked back, slowly giving you a grateful smile. "No it's okay I'll go-" Dae-ho tried to say, but you waved him off, shaking your head.

"Well.. No, you can't just.."

"Dae-ho," In-ho said in a low tone, putting a hand on his shoulder, "she's pregnant." he said, like Dae-ho needed a reminder of what was right in front of him. You weren't that important to the team anyways, and that girl needed your help. So, it was decided, and in the end you did find a team of three players who voted 'X', like you, and one who didn't. You felt fairly safe with these people and even if you didn't, you didn't have much of a choice.

The game was a six-legged pentathlon with five mini games you had to split between each team member to complete. Watching the first few teams go was an absolute adrenaline rush, given the small amount of time of five minutes, the first few players were shot on sight pretty early on. This made you nervous to the point where you could throw up. Your original group was sitting a few meters away from youd current one and you did lock eyes with Dae-ho quite a bit, him giving you reassuring glances or a thumbs up. You mustered up a smile, trying yo calm your thoughts down.

I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this-

Oh but you could. Your team, which came before Gi-hun's, barely made it over the finish line with three seconds to spare, making the crowd of waiting players roar and cheer and yell "Good job!". The most time you lost was at Gonggi, thankfully not your mini game. Being able to beat yours on the first try filled you with the confidence you needed, which was probably the only thing that kept you up on your feet. Speaking of which, the shackles, that bound your left leg together with the player next to you, were taken off of them and you were free to go. Well, back into the dorm area.

Anxiously, you sat on your bed and waited, for your team. Players streamed in, one after the other, just not the ones you were so desperate to see. You were biting your fingernails, your thoughts being flooded with the fear of them all just dying, being left alone to survive this shit.

Suddenly, you heard a voice call out for you. It was Dae-ho (who else?) who basically sprinted to you. Before you could even stand up to reciprocate his hug, he pulled you up into his arms, squeezing the air out if his lungs. "Do you know how scared I was?" he sounded really out of breath. You didn't reply, just hugged him back the best you could and watched Jung-bae laugh to himself, watching the two of you. "I'm so glad you're alive! I'll never let you do that again, okay? Next time, I'll be the one to find another group.. not you okay?" His word vomit just wouldn't stop.

"Let's hope there won't be a next time."

"Obviously there won't be, I won't ever let you leave again."

#squid game #squid game fanfic #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid games x reader #squid games #kang dae ho x reader #kang dae ho #dae ho #dae ho x reader #player 388 x reader #player 388

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araybiaaa · 22 days ago

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❝ temptation.❞ ‎ elias ‘stack’ moore x black!fem oc

ooo. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔… modern!au, tension, flirting, cunnilingus (cause every man in this movie is a muncher!) black!fem oc, explicit sexual content.

ooo. 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔… where a good girl falls into temptation after she meets elias ‘stack’ moore.

ooo. 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔… soooo i wanted to try something different and do a modern!au with stack. (smoke’s still my favorite twin. the real girlies get it!) but i wanted to challenge myself a bit here.. this idea honestly came out of nowhere. i opened a03 and just started typing and somewhere down the line it became a one shot with 5k+ words?? 😭 also just wanted to say tysm for all of the love on my other fics. smoke and annie are near and dear to my heart and i’m glad you guys enjoyed my interpretations/writings for them. just a fair warning, the girl in this is very unserious but who wouldn’t be if you saw a vampire that looked like mbj! requests are open so send in something if you’d like — just keep in mind of my rules. anyway. likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! ◡̈

“he’s dangerous. if you had any common sense you’d stay away from him.” their words seemed portent at first; a precautionary warning that had her wary of him. she didn’t know him but she’s heard enough stories about him to know that he was feared by everyone. his reputation was something akin of their town’s own boogeyman or freddy kreuger — he was dangerous, menacing and someone to be fearful of.

cleo hadn’t been in town long enough to know if his reputation superseded him or if the rumor’s held some weight of validity in them but her curiosity was piqued to meet the guy that had people hurriedly locking their doors when the sun went down and removing the welcome mats off of their front porches.

at first, she wondered if everyone in town had collectively decided to pull a prank on her as some sort of initiation or simply for their own amusement. because to her elias moore seemed more like a ghost than a vampire. she lurked outside after hours, even against their warnings — completely foolish and naive, but she never saw him around.

she doesn’t know why she wants to see him so bad, maybe it’s because everyone else has and she feels strangely left out. or maybe it’s because she needs to see for herself if there was a world where mythical creatures existed outside of the cheesy television shows she used to watch and the books that she read. but much to her dismayed defeat, time continued on with her being the only one who had yet to meet the feared elias moore.

“what does he look like?” she asked, feigning innocence behind her curiosity that her best friend, naomi easily sees through and narrows a pointed glare at her. “what? i just want to know in case i see him around somewhere!” she murmurs with a halfhearted shrug. it didn’t seem like an actual possibility with how she hadn’t so far, but she didn’t want naomi to know that she was willingly seeking him out.

naomi sighs, pursing her lips as she tapped her manicured fingers against her thigh. after a moment’s contemplation, she reveals: “i’ve only seen him around a few times. he doesn’t look like any of those sick looking vampire that you see on tv. he’s actually…fine.” at this, cleo’s eyebrows raise in amusement at her friend’s description. “he has this look about him that makes you weak in the knees whenever he smiles at you. it’s effortlessly sexy and his eyes — just don’t look in them too long cause you’re gonna find yourself wanting him to turn you into a vampire too just so you can spend the rest of eternity with him. i’m only telling you this because you asked, but don’t go around asking anyone else about him. you don’t want your daddy finding out about it.”

cleo nodded in agreement, but still found her mind wandering about him. she knows that naomi’s right, her overly religious father would have an aneurysm if he’d found out that she was asking questions about the town’s social pariah. but that didn’t stop her from visualizing him through naomi’s description.

she’s only ever heard of naomi speaking negatively about elias so for her to refer to him as fine despite her disliking of him had intrigued cleo. “yeah, you’re right. i was just curious but now i know.”

naomi’s pointed glare deepens, like she doesn’t fully believe cleo. “girl…stay away from him for your own good. trust me. i know another girl who was curious about him just like you are and she got turned.” cleo wonders if she’s just saying that to scare her away, but surprisingly it doesn’t.

“i hear you,” naomi hums in acknowledgment but thankfully doesn’t reprimand her any further about her curiosity.

…

sometimes cleo makes smart decisions.

when it came to school and her grades, everything was always calculated in her mind for her to choose the best possible outcome. she was annoying obsessive like that — always planning ahead, analyzing and assessing even the most mundane things that infiltrated her life. but other times, on seldom occasions, she makes not-so-smart decisions; one’s that has her acting impulsively and deviating from her normally pristine behavior.

she was supposed to be going back to her dorm room to get ready for a party that she was planning on going to with naomi. it was twelve o’clock and she had just finished an exasperating nine hour bartending shift with annoying alcoholics flirting with her and their heady, glossed over eyes staring at her ass in the tight fitted jeans that she was wearing.

her dad was less than pleased about her place of employment, but he knew that she needed extra money to pay for her clothes, shoes, hair and other miscellaneous items so he refrained from making any comments anytime she she complained about a customer or the minimal pay that she was getting.

cleo was closing the bar; wiping down the sticky counters, recounting the money in the register and overturning the chairs when she looks up and sees him. he’s standing across the street but even with the distance set between them she can feel the smolder of his gaze as he looked at her. cleo stands there for a brief moment just staring back at him until she mustered enough courage to make her way to the front door.

the overhead bell rings in a soft bellow as she pushes the door open. the humidity of the mississippi air sticks against her skin as soon as she steps outside. but even with its scorching temperatures, elias’ stare pierces deeper and has her skin burning. when she steps outside, she sees him making his way towards her — his gait was stealth and calculated.

she feels goosebumps prickle along her skin, air catches in her lungs and warmth curls around her neck as he sauntered closer. the first thing that she noticed was that although naomi had been right in her description of him, she had greatly undermined it. he wasn’t just fine; he was handsome and she could already feel her knees buckling weakly beneath her just at the sight of him. the second thing she notices is his eyes and the phosphorescent glow of red in his pupils. when he finally reaches her, he stands athwart from her and slowly drags his eyes over her body. his eyes find hers again and for a moment she wonders if she could hear the hastened beating of her heart.

“it’s kinda late for you to be out here ain’t it?” he posits and the deepened drawl of his southern accent somehow makes him more attractive.

cleo swallows a shaky breath, nodding. “i’m closing up the bar. we just closed about ten minutes ago,”

he raises his brows, trailing his eyes somewhere offside. “and they just left you to do it by yourself? don’t they know it’s dangerous people out here? vampires walkin’ about like they’re humans.” he says with sarcasm lilting in his voice and clicks his tongue against his teeth with a reprimanding tsk that follows.

cleo juts her chin outwardly. “i’m more than capable of handling myself.” she rebuttals, her hand perched on her hip as she looked at him.

his eyes find hers again and he smirks impishly, nodding his head. “i’m sure.” he says; and it’s something hidden in the way that he says it that has her cheeks warming again. a moment passes between them as he stares at her with an intrigued expression worn on his face. “you ain’t scared of me,” it’s more of a statement than a question, though she knows it’s intended to be the latter.

he sounds and looks surprised by this, that he’d finally encountered someone that didn’t run away when they saw him. “am i supposed to be?” she was more attracted to him than anything, unable to stop looking at his lips and his bared fangs that peeked out from his mouth.

he shrugs, “everyone else is.”

“well i’m not everyone else,” at that he doesn’t respond, only smirks at her again making the butterflies she feels in her stomach somersault deeper. cleo bites her lip as she looks over her shoulder towards the bar. ‘don’t ever invite him in anywhere, that’s how he gets you.’ she ignores her father’s words, pushing them to the back of her mind. “you wanna come in?”

he raises another brow, “you want me to come inside?” this time it’s her that shrugs and he only gives her a brief dubious look of contemplation before he’s following her inside of the bar at her open invitation. she could feel his eyes honed in on her ass and unlike with the drunken middle aged men from before, she isn’t repulsed at the realization.

“you know, at first i thought people were lying about who you are. it seemed like everyone knew what you looked like except for me.” she says, folding her arms against her chest and watching his eyes lower to her perked breast. she bites on her lip, intrigued.

“you were lookin’ for me?”

she nods briefly, “i wanted to know what you looked like.”

he walks towards her until he’s standing directly in front of her; way closer than he was when they were standing outside and it catches her slightly off guard. “well now that you have…whatchu think?” the remark is undeniably coquettish — the soft murmur of it accompanied by the lascivious look that he’s giving her has her pinned beneath his gaze.

“i think you’re not as scary as people make you out to be,” she responds; avoiding the answer that she knows he was truly searching for. but he settles for this one too, indulging in her retreat.

“you think you can make that assumption from a five minute conversation? what if i am like everyone says?” the air between them shifts into this palpable tension; hot and undeniable. he takes a few more steps forward until he’s hovering his heightened figure over her. she cranes her neck to look up at him, “i could bite you right now and you wouldn’t be able to do anythin’ about it”

“if you wanted to you would’ve done it outside,” she rebuttals, seeing the twitch of his curled upper lip.

“maybe i like playin’ with my food before i eat it.” and the innuendo behind his words has her breath hitching.

her skin pricks with goosebumps again at his teasing words. elias takes immediate notice of it; his nostrils flare as he inhales sharply with his heightened senses. and it takes a moment for her to realize that he must smell something radiating off of her body — arousal? excitement? — because he’s chuckling and licking his lips as he reached his hand out and brushed it over her hip. she shivers, not out of fear but of arousal. “and you sure as hell look and smell good enough to eat.”

cleo’s mouth gapes the only audible sound that comes out is a soft gasp. it’s the sound of her phone ringing that suddenly clefts through the tension hanging in the air. she jumps, startled, looking at elias whose eyes narrow at her phone like he’s inwardly cursing it for its intrusion. she reluctantly moves out of his grasp and walks over to pick up her phone that was sat at the edge of the counter.

picking up the phone she sees that it’s a text from naomi asking where she’s at. she’d gotten so distracted with elias that she forgot that she was supposed to meet naomi at their dorm room half an hour ago. she types a quick message in response, telling her that closing up took longer than expected and that she should go ahead to the party without her and that she would just meet her there instead.

she looks up from her phone at the same time elias is already walking out of the door, the sound of the bell ringing announces his departure as cleo stands there with her mind replaying their interaction.

…

a week passes before she sees him again. he’s standing outside of the door; staring, watching, waiting. she walks towards the entrance and holds the door open, beckoning him forward. “come in,” he walks inside as she closes the door behind him.

“you weren’t here the other night.” he says, catching her slightly by surprise. had he been looking for her this time instead of the other way around?

“oh, yeah. i was off. i don’t work on tuesdays and thursdays,” she explains watching as he nodded before looking away with a sheepish expression. after their last encounter, she spent the entire week thinking about him — how he looked at her, how his hand felt against her bare skin. cleo didn’t understand how she developed such a quick attraction for him, especially when she didn’t even give human boys any time of the day, but something about him was different.

naomi was right, all it took was one look from him and cleo found herself a fallen victim to his charm. “why aren’t you scared of me?”

she’s taken aback again, even more so than the first time. “why do you want me to be?” she challenges, noticing the pull of his jaw as he clenches it shut.

“your daddy’s a preacher ain’t he?” she furrows her brow, curious to know how he’d figured that out without her telling him. “how you think he’d react if he knew you were stayin’ behind after work to talk to me?”

ah, so that’s what this is about.

“well aside from me being grown and fully capable of making my own decisions, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” and she would definitely keep this secret from him for his sake and hers. “elias—”

“stack.” he interrupts to correct her.

“elias,” she says, unmoored by his correction. he gives her a look but listens as she continued. “i’m not talking to you because i’m trying to prove something to my dad or anyone else here.”

“then why are you?”

“because i want to.” she exasperates, frowning slightly. “why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“because you don’t know what you’re gettin’ yourself into,” elias retorts through a forewarning tone that sounded all too familiar of her family and friends who initially warned her away from him. he was right, aside from the fictionalized information that she got through old cw shows she used to frequently watch, she didn’t understand the depth and complications that came along with being a vampire. but her interest in elias made her want to know more — she wanted the truth and all its ugliness.

“then show me.”

…

elias stack moore had a tarnished reputation way before he got bit and transformed into a vampire. albeit he was the more level headed of the two, the smoke-stack twins were well known for their violent behavior and short fused tempers. their involvement with the notorious al capone and then stack becoming involved in a near ritualistic slaughter hadn’t done anything to ease anyone’s perception of him. his reputation expanded over the near century with people reciting tales of his life; often times dramatizing it completely.

but regardless of the half-truths or stack’s solemn search for penance — he still remained feared to the point where people would refrain from staying outside at night too long just to avoid him. he kept mostly to himself, only indulging in his sexual needs with a few other vampires that lived amongst the town. if he did leave his house, he made sure it was brief just to avoid any inadvertent run in’s.

he knew he was feared and had stories told about him that would give kids nightmares. but she was surprisingly the only one that didn’t tremble in fear when she saw him or tightly clutch her cross necklace and recite scripture from the bible in hopes it would protect them and keep him away like everyone else did. instead of running she gravitated towards him; accepting and intrigued by him in a way he hadn’t felt before.

he was wary at first of getting close to her.

she had a reputation as the preacher’s sweet and innocent daughter. he could only imagine the outcry that would erupt if anyone were to find out that she had been talking to him. but cleo insisted that she didn’t care and expressed interest in wanting to see/know him — all of him. so he invited her to his house.

she came over at work — still dressed in those tight jeans and that cropped shirt that accentuated her lithe physique — all wide eyed and innocent and fucking gorgeous.

as soon as she stepped over the threshold and inside, he felt something shift in the air as he realized that she was the first girl he’d ever invited into his house. he watches her as she looks around spectatingly, crouching over a bit with her hands on her knees to look at the display of photos that he had. “your brother?” she asks rhetorically as she looked at the candid black-and-white photograph that he had of him and smoke taken years back during the time of their youth.

stack nods tersely, pursing his lips in a moue.

and he’s grateful that she notices his reluctance and doesn’t prod any further because even though it’s been over a century since his brother’s death, it was still hurt carrying him around in his memories.

it’s stack who segues the conversation, now turning the spotlight on her. “you said you wanted me to show you, so what do you wanna know?”

cleo bites her lip in thought. stack’s mind is briefly distracted with how sexy she looks that he doesn’t initially hear her question until she asks it again.

“it took me a while to learn how to do it. i taught myself most of what i know, the guy who turned my ex that turned me didn’t teach me much. but it’s the first thing i taught myself.”

she nods, biting on her lip again as she lowered her eyes in a shy chagrin. “so that night at the bar…when you sniffed me what did you smell?”

“you really wanna know?” she looks up, almost contemplative, but nods. “lust. your hormones were all over the place.” her expression’s caught somewhere between mortification and a grimace. “my hearin’ is heightened too…i can hear your heart beatin’ fast as hell. you nervous?”

at her nod, he posits. “cause of me? why do i make you nervous?” he takes a preemptive step towards her, closing the distance between them. he hears her pulse quicken. smells the saltiness of sweat underneath the floral saccharine of her perfume.

she doesn’t respond, only looks at him underneath her lashes. “what else do want me to show you, cleo?” her breath hitches, eyes flit from his lips back up to his eyes in a quick maneuver. her heart beats louder and the smell of her arousal is so thick that he can almost taste it on his tongue. he inhales her scent; feeling his own arousal mix with hers.

he sees her throat stretch as she swallows.

…

it’s almost feral how he bares an arm around her waist and tugged her body closer to his. she gasps a bit at his onslaught — startled by the abruptness of his movements, but she’s immediately relaxing into his embrace the moment he brushes his mouth against hers. he kisses her with a ravenous vigor, sliding his tongue over the cupping of her lower lip as a terse plea for entry. she whimpers before she succumbs to his prowess, slacking her jaw wider as he intertwined their tongues.

his kisses are bruising and greedy to the point where he steals all the air that was in her lungs. it’s a slip of tongues and a crash of teeth messily colliding, through guttural groans and breathy whimpers. stack’s arms tighten their hold around her before lowering to her ass. he squeezes her through her jeans before giving it a firm smack; smirking at the way it ricocheted. he gives it another hard squeeze as his mouth nipped at the exposed flesh of her neck. “tell me what you want,” he rasps; gruff and throaty, his breath hot against her skin.

his lips pucker as he nipped at her skin; sucking deep, purple love-bites all over. (and it feels so good that she doesn’t even care that she’ll have to cover up the evidence of his markings with makeup to hide from her father and naomi.) she grips the back of his head, holding him against her as she fluttered her lashes and indulged in the pleasure.

“this,” she whispered, voice shaky, body trembling with an intense want. he groans against her neck; alternating between nipping and sucking. and he gets too into it because she hears a low sound that mimics a growl and feels the sharpness of his fangs grazing her clavicle. she gasps, taken back and he’s immediately recoiling — looking up at her with his swollen lips and lidded eyes.

“fuck. i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—sometimes when i get too excited it happens. but i wasn’t trying to…” he’s panicking, careening apologies to her. but she’s sliding her mouth over his and kissing him deeply with fervor.

“it’s okay,” she whispers, still pecking at his lips.

stack furrows his brow, “yeah?”

“just don’t bite too hard.”

he nods, lightly grazing his teeth into the softness of her flesh. he nibbles at her neck with the tip of his bared fangs biting deliciously into her skin. the pain is sharp but still pleasurable enough to have her eyes rolling to the back of her head. his hands make their way to the front of her body, sliding over her abdomen and hovering at the waistband of her jeans. she breathes softly through her parted lips, emanating a whimper when he bites into her lower lip. “you smell so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, reaching his hands between the crux of her thighs and sliding his thumb over her slit — passing the pleasure over the seam of her jeans.

her underwear suddenly becomes sticky with her arousal and knowing that he could smell it on her was sending her over the edge. she feels this incessant pleasure building; coiling in her stomach and spreading through the heat of the place where she desired him the most. “can i taste you?” at her consenting nod, he maneuvers them towards the couch and eases her down onto the cushion.

he pries their wet lips apart with a ‘smack’, a string of saliva draws at their disconnection. she holds the smother head of his gaze, watching as he lowers to his knees. “lift your hips up for me,” he murmurs, already working at the buttons and zippers of her pants that loosen around her hips.

she concedes, arching her hips off of the couch just enough so that stack’s hands are able to tug the tight fitted fabric over her hips and down her thighs. “look at you,” he says; marveling at the sight of her arousal. the dark spot is visible against her pink underwear — soddening through the fabric. “already so wet and ready for me.” he kisses the inside of her thighs, nudging the bridge of his nose against her cunt.

she shivers through a moan, it’s just the barest of contact but she’s hypersensitive to his touch. his deft fingers pull at her ruined underwear, sliding them down her legs and absentmindedly throwing them aside so that she’s sat completely bare in front of him.

her cheeks warm at her vulnerability.

stack’s hand brushes against her calf as he gripped her leg and hefted it easily over his left shoulder. his eyes hone in on her cunt as she spreads open; staring in awe at the slick that’s gathered between her folds. he grabs at her other leg, barring it around his right shoulder until he’s got a perfect position of her cunt displayed in front of him.

cleo arches her hips slightly, holding herself upright as she rests the palms of her hand against the cushions. her heartbeat quickens at the desire that grows, palpable and thick in its emerging, sending another jolting throb directly into her cunt. she could feel the wisps of his breath as he leaned in. he brushes a teasing kiss against her thigh, humming softly at the way she shivers in response.

he nudged himself closer towards her cunt; pressing soft kisses against her skin in passing before he finally reaches the place where he could smell the the evidence of her want. he presses a kiss against it and she shudders, feeling the tension roll down her spine and curl into her toes. she doesn’t even have a moment to gather her bearings, because then he’s flattening his tongue and licking her up from the back of her perineum to her clitoris. “oh—fuck. s-stack,” she bellows a soft cry of pleasure, her hands grip into the couch to seek purchase.

and when he reaches the over sensitive bud, he puckers his swollen lips and sucks her into his mouth; skillfully using his tongue to massage her clit. she feels the texture of his tongue stimulating her clit, sending an overwhelming wave of pleasure burning through the crevices of her body. her breath catches in her throat and she’s shivering so hard that stack has to pull his mouth away to remind her to breathe.

she nods numbly, blinking through the fogginess of her vision. she parts her lips and exhaled shakily; attempting to lull her breathing. “grind your hips against my face,” she whimpers, reaching a hand up to hold the back of his neck to anchor herself as she slowly rolled her hips against his face.

“ohmygo—” the added pressure of his nose and tongue assaulting her clit has her dizzy. his hands grip her hips, fingers dig into the meat of her thighs holding her against him.

he makes his way up her vulva; pausing right before he reached her clit and increased the pressure so that the base of his tongue was forced slightly under her clit. he slows his movements, unrelentingly in his ravenous feat as he holds the pressure there. she grinds against him again, shaky, still trembling through her movements as she buried his face deeper into her cunt.

she could hear the lewd stickiness of her slick as he licked up her pussy; could see it glistening over his face — a messy mixture of her arousal and his saliva dripping down his chin. she’s already shaking towards her release but then he grazes his fangs softly against her clit and she’s suddenly bellowing out cries of pleasure as she cums.

she pulsates around his tongue, the tension tugs in her lower belly. he slides his thumb through her slickness, watching as she haphazardly falls backwards against the couch cowering away from the overstimulation. stack pulls away, lapping his tongue around his mouth as he licked up the remnants of her slick. “you okay?” he asked through a rasped breath, watching as she laid there in a dazed stupor.

she nods, just barely, feeling the heaviness of her breathing begin to lull. cleo never thought that someone as smart as her would be drawn into the temptation from a vampire, but here she was — with her cunt still throbbing around nothing, legs and body completely spent, eyes looking at his face that’s covered in her juices, and it entices her.

and it’s then that she realizes that she was totally and completely fucked. he’d warned her that she didn’t know what she would be getting herself into if she became involved with him but with the way he ate her pussy out so good and had her wanting more, cleo realized that she was willing to test the boundaries of her restraint.

…

cleo didn’t like lying, she’s always prided herself about being a truthful person regardless of the repercussions that could follow. she didn’t like people lying to her so in return, she treated everyone with the same decency of respect and remained truthful about everything. it’s not until she starts dating stack that lying easily becomes integrated into her life.

she goes to church with her father every sunday, sits in the front pew and listens as he recites sermons and scriptures about demons and evils that plagued the world. it guilted her knowing that he was wistfully unaware of the fact that she was bedding with someone he referred to as one of the demons that walked amongst them, but the way he made her feel was better than anything she’s ever experienced before.

so she keeps the secret buried deeply, and listens halfheartedly at his preachings as she finds her mind wandering on stack again. it’s easier to hide behind her fib with her father, but naomi’s naturally pestering curiosity always gets the better of her and a simple response of “i already have something planned.” does not offer enough of a rational explanation for her.

“you’ve been acting weird these past few weeks…” she acknowledges with a skeptical brow and pursed lips. she narrows her gaze in on cleo who desperately hopes that she doesn’t look too hard enough to see the hickies stack sucked on her shoulder and breast the other night. “you’re here during the day, but always sneak out to go somewhere at night like you’re meeting someone,” she accents, her perception’s dangerously close to discovering cleo’s secret.

“i’m not.” the lie falls disbelieving to both of their ears. naomi gives her a narrowed look, tilting her head. she bites on her lip in contemplation, sighing softly as she concedes. “okay! but you can’t say anything to anyone especially not my dad.”

naomi gives her a bemused look but nods.

“i might be seeing someone,” cleo murmurs, averting her eyes to naomi to see her eyebrows raise. “i am seeing someone. but don’t ask who! because i’m not going to tell you who it is. i’m only telling you this because i know you wouldn’t stop hounding me if i didn’t.”

naomi stands there quiet, considering her words. “is he married?”

“what!?” cleo beseeches, frowning at her friend’s absurd accusation. “girl, no! i am not a fucking homewrecker!”

“hey, it’s a fair assumption!” naomi rebuttals, raising her hands in the air at her defense. “you’re being sneaky and sleeping over at his place at night… it made me think that you only go over there because that’s the only time that you’re allowed to.”

“no. i’m not fucking a married man.” cleo states. she continued to stuff her clothes in her overnight bag, avid to get to stack’s place. she could feel naomi’s he eyes still piercing through her, curiosity sits on her tongue wanting to inquire further about the guy’s identity. but she thankfully relents, only giving cleo a hum of acknowledgment when she grabs her bag and clamors a parting bye as she walks out.

when she arrives at his house, she’s greeted with a smile and kiss, his arm wraps around her waist as she melts softly into the embrace. he maneuvers her bag from her hands, allowing to to fall absentmindedly to the floor with a loud thud. his hands are groping her everywhere; sliding over her ass, squeezing her titties, palming her cunt through the flimsy pair of leggings that she wore. it’s almost feral how both of their bodies aligned with the same wanton desire.

she loves how the outside world becomes a distant memory for them as they remain secluded in the privacy of his house with no worries of interruption or ridicule waiting. “if you had any common sense you’d stay away from him,” had been a warning, but she found herself gravitating towards him despite their attempts of deterrence. and she had no intentions of letting go of this feeling or him.

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