#yall lmk if i need to write them differently

[radical-mistake]

whoops

in order: transabscission, perma-abscission, transflowering, permaflowering, transevergreen, transdeciduous, transfruitbearing, permafruitbearing, transpollinated, permapollinated, transtree and transfruittree

all were coined with trees in mind but can be used by anyone

flag id under the cut because its so so long and i dont want to clog up your screen reader

Flag ID: twelve flags. Many of them are similar, but will all be described as if on their own. From right to left and top to bottom:

Trans abscission. Five horizontal stripes of brown, grey-blue, white, grey-blue, and brown. There is a thick, vertical, brown stripe in the middle.

Perma abscission. Five horizontal stripes of brown, white, cyan, white, and brown. There is a thick, vertical, brown stripe in the middle. Trans flowering. Five horizontal stripes of brown, pale green, pale yellow, pink, and brown. There is a thick, vertical, brown stripe in the middle.

Perma flowering. Five horizontal stripes of brown, dark green, yellow, pink, and brown. There is a thick, vertical, brown stripe in the middle.

Trans evergreen. There are brown stripes along the bottom and top. There are seven vertical stripes in between them. Six of them are shades of green that move from the darkest at the left to the lightest at the right. The seventh is a large, brown stripe in the middle.

Trans deciduous. There are brown stripes along the bottom and top. There are five vertical stripes in between them, green, pink, brown, red, and grey-blue. The brown stripe in the middle is the thickest.

Trans fruitbearing. Five horizontal stripes of green, dark red, desaturated pink, dark red, and green. There is one vertical brown stripe in the middle, covered by the green stripes on the bottom and top.

Perma fruitbearing. Five horizontal stripes of green, desaturated purple, blue, desaturated purple, and green. There is one vertical brown stripe in the middle, covered by the green stripes on the bottom and top.

Trans pollinated. Five horizontal stripes of pink, desaturated green, pastel yellow, desaturated green, and pink. There is one vertical brown stripe in the middle, covered by the pink stripes on the bottom and top.

Perma pollinated. Five horizontal stripes of pink, green, yellow, green, and pink. There is one vertical brown stripe in the middle, covered by the green stripes on the bottom and top.

Trans tree. Five horizontal stripes of brown, green, white, green, and brown. There is a thick, vertical, brown stripe in the middle.

Trans fruit tree. There are brown stripes along the bottom and top. There are seven vertical stripes in between them, dark green, light green, red, brown, red, light green and dark green. The brown stripe in the middle is the thickest, and the other horizontal stripes get thicker the further they are from the center.

End image ID.

[roastedoatmilk]

Arcane Women Strap Hcs

characters: sevika, vi, caitlyn, mel, ambessa

A/N barely proofread sorry, also my first time writing for arcane please be kind 🙈 i hope y’all enjoy lmk your thoughts :)

Sevika

first things first she has a dark purple strap i’m talking almost the same color that shimmer is and boy does she know how to use it

whenever she pulls the strap out be prepared to not be able to walk the next day

she prefers to fuck you in missionary but if she had to choose a different position it would be fucking you from the bottom, she just loves to be able to see your face while she pleasures you

her strap game is DIABOLICAL, she always makes sure to hit that spot inside you that makes you let out a squeal and causes your toes to curl

honestly she could just cum from fucking you alone but if you feel up to it once she’s done with you she loves when you eat her out after

“that’s it baby, you’re taking me so well just a little more”

Vi

vi screams black strap to me like it just makes sense

she prefers to fuck you slow and DEEP, i’m talking girly lifts your hips off the bed and grips them so hard that you can feel bruises form

shes so cocky about it too like she knows she’s good

vi’s another one that could cum from pleasuring you alone and 9/10 times she does, however the one time she doesn’t she will literally sit on your face once you’re well enough to take care of her

“that feel good pretty girl ? yeah i know it does, you’re always so good for me”

Caitlyn

dark blue strap sorry yall i don’t make the rules

caitlyn loves when you’re on top and she’s fucking you from below

she revels in the sight of you falling apart above her while she’s gripping your hips guiding you

she’s 100% a brat tamer and you can’t tell me any different

“oh darling is it too much ? you shouldn’t have behaved like that if you didn’t want me to fuck you like this”

Mel

HEAR YE HEAR YE she has a gold strap idc idc

mel also likes it when you’re on top however she prefers to gently guide your movements while she praises you

don’t let that mislead you tho shes a HUGE tease

she can and will make you edge yourself until you’re literally crying begging her to let you cum

“ my love you look so beautiful when you ask nicely like that, go ahead and take what you need”

Ambessa

ruby red strap that’s all imma say

the cruelest of the bunch, she’s not afraid to leave you dry while she takes what she needs

another brat tamer yall you love to see it

she doesn’t make love she FUCKS, be prepared to constantly be buying new headboards

she makes you suck on her strap NEXTTTTT

“sweet girl did you think i’m finished with you ? no no we aren’t done until you can’t remember anything but my name”

[jincapableoflove]

A Jar Full of Us | one-shot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

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

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

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

Word count: 10.2K+

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

MOODBOARD

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

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

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

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

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

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

A fond smile tugs at your lips as you write:

Jungkook remembers the little things.

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

Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The box was almost full now.

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

Jungkook frowns when he eats something delicious.

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

His eyes smile before his lips do.

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

I love him.

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

Especially not Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart stopped. "What?"

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

Silence.

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

"You WHAT?!"

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

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

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

No. No. No.

This couldn't be happening.

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

Empty.

It was gone.

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

And now it was in Jungkook's hands.

Of all people…Jungkook.

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

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

He hadn’t seen it yet.

He couldn’t have seen it yet.

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

What if he had already opened it?

What if he read through every single note?

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

Your stomach twisted painfully at the thought.

Jungkook was your best friend.

He was your person.

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

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

And then…there was that moment.

The moment you almost confessed.

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

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

But you swallowed them down.

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

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

The thought of his reaction sent your mind into overdrive.

Would he laugh?

Would he think it was weird?

Would he—

Would he reject you?

No. No. No.

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

That was the plan.

It had to work.

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

Box 109.

You yanked it open.

Empty.

Your stomach sank.

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

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

No response.

You knocked again, harder this time.

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

The door swung open.

And there he was.

Jungkook.

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

But then, your gaze dropped to his hands.

And the world stopped.

The box.

The open box.

Your box.

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

You felt like you were going to be sick.

No, no, no, no—

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

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

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

Oh. Oh no.

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

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

He cleared his throat, then read aloud.

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

Silence.

It stretched on for what felt like an eternity.

You thought you might actually pass out.

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

And then, to your absolute horror—

He smiled.

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

And then—oh god—he spoke again.

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

Your breath hitched.

Your brain went blank.

You wanted to scream.

The change was almost instant.

In the days that followed, Jungkook became… different.

Not in the way you had imagined, though.

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

But instead, Jungkook just… pulled away.

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

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

Instead, he turned it into a joke.

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

"So, I’m warmer than the sun, huh?"

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

It was unbearable.

He kept doing it.

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

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

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

And then he walked away.

That was when you finally got the message.

Jungkook had taken it as a joke.

He didn’t care about your feelings.

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

And worst of all?

He was pulling away from you completely.

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

It hurt. More than you wanted to admit.

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

He wouldn’t push you away like this.

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

Or so you thought.

Because that’s when you saw him.

And he wasn’t alone.

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

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

Your stomach twisted.

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

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

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

A silent rejection.

What a jerk.

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

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

Jungkook threw away your feelings like they meant nothing.

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

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

The thought makes your chest ache.

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

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

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

But now?

Now he barely looks at you.

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

The person you were most angry at was Joy.

Not Jungkook. Not yourself.

Joy.

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

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

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

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

But then she saw your face.

Her laughter faded. “Wait… what happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence settled between you both.

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath catches in your throat.

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

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

You’ve already been replaced.

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

It isn’t.

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

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

Even if he doesn’t love you back.

Even if he only sees you as a friend.

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

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

You wait for him after class.

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

Taking a deep breath, you step forward.

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

Jungkook halts mid-step.

His jaw clenches. His fists curl at his sides.

"You don’t understand," he mutters.

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

Silence.

Jungkook doesn’t reply.

And somehow, that hurts more than rejection ever could.

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

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

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

But you already know Jungkook will be there.

Probably Hana too.

And that's fine.

You'll just stay out of their way.

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

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

Jungkook is nowhere in sight.

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook.

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

Your heart stumbles in your chest.

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

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

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

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

Just like that.

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

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

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

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

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

But the moment you step inside, your breath catches.

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

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

Your heart clenches.

Is it for Hana?

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

February 10th. Your birthday.

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

Surely.

So you wait.

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

Not even a single text.

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

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

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

Your heart leaps.

Jungkook?

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

It’s from your parents.

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

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

There was still time.

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

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

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

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

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

Because deep down, Joy still blames herself.

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

Jungkook didn’t text that day.

He forgot your birthday.

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

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

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

It’s the day before Valentine’s Day.

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

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

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

Great. Just great.

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

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

But you don’t hit the ground.

Because Jungkook catches you.

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

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

He doesn’t let go of you immediately.

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

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

All that’s left is him.

Still holding you.

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

“Do you even care, Jungkook?”

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

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

So fast that you nearly stumble again.

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words cut through the air, sharp and merciless.

Then he turns. Walks away.

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

This is it.

This is your answer.

Jungkook has made his choice.

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

You have to move on.

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

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

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

The pink heart-shaped box.

Your breath hitches.

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

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

Your fingers tremble as you lift the lid.

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

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

"His laugh is my favorite sound."

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

Tears blur your vision.

You never wanted him to know.

Because you never wanted to lose him.

And now, you have.

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

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

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

So tonight, you let the dams break.

And you cry yourself to sleep.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

You feel miserable.

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

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

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

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

You miss it.

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

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

Then the doorbell rings.

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

But it rings again.

What is Joy doing?

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

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

But there’s no one there.

Your gaze drops to the ground.

And then you see it.

A singular jar, placed carefully on the doormat.

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

Where have you seen something like this before?

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

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

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

"To Y/N."

Your heart stutters.

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

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

Your mind starts spiraling.

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

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

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

With bated breath, you pull one out.

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

"I lied."

That’s all it says.

Two words.

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

Jungkook.

Your fingers tighten around the note as your pulse quickens.

It’s his.

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

Your breath turns shallow as the memory crashes into you—

Yesterday.

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

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

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

"Do you even care, Jungkook?"

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

But instead—

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words had cut deeper than you ever thought possible.

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

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

But now—

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

"I lied."

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

Unrolling it with shaky fingers, you read:

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

A sharp pang strikes your chest.

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

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

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

No apology. No denial. Nothing.

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

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

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

Your fingers tremble as you pull out the next note.

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

Your breath hitches.

He didn’t forget?

He chose not to text?

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

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

What you didn’t know was—

Jungkook had spent hours writing your birthday note.

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

Because words were permanent.

Because he was afraid.

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

And that terrified him.

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

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

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

The library.

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

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

A jar.

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

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

But it wasn’t.

It was for you.

Every note in this jar was for you.

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

He had been writing to you all along.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now, you finally know.

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

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

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

Your chest tightens.

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

“Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, you see him.

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

But you do.

“Jungkook!”

He freezes.

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

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

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

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

Then, barely above a whisper—“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

"Because I was a coward."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Say it now," you whisper.

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

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

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

"Y/N…"

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

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

"I love you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods. Swallows hard. Takes a step closer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal,” he murmurs.

And then he kisses you again.

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

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

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

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

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

The words break something inside him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s you who finally breaks it.

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

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

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

You blink. “…What?”

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

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

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

Of course, she did.

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

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

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

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

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

Your brow furrows slightly. “Answer what?”

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

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

Y/N, will you be my Valentine?

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

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

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

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

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

It had always been him.

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

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

So you close the distance.

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

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

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

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

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

Not to make up for lost time.

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

And maybe, just maybe, they never would be.

EPILOGUE : Years Later – Valentine’s Day

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

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

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

But this time, there’s something else.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you’d already found them.

Because you’d found him.

And maybe that was the answer all along.

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

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

[fallingformatt]

PARTY C.S.

fratboy!Chris x reader

summary: what happens when you go to Chris’ frat party for the first time?

warnings: smut, usage of alcohol and weed

word count: 2.1k

a/n: I don’t know if this is any good, but I’ve been wanting to write something about Chris so if yall have any suggestions or ideas lmk 🤭

this post is not proofread

➽───────────────❥

Chris is known for throwing the best parties on campus, he's known for always having what you need, whether it is weed, drugs, or some dick. All the girls on campus drool over him and most of them can only dream of getting with him. Chris is a slut and he knows it, Chris isn't seen with the same girl more than once, and the girls that get with him know that, yet many of them think that they can change him.

Chris is always in the scene, hanging out with his friends, always having a girl wrapped around his shoulder, and spending more days of the week partying than actually studying. I'm the complete opposite of Chris, I'd rather stay in my room, unwind from the day, and watch a movie while eating some snacks, I mean yeah sure I've been to parties but I've never been to one in collage let alone to one of his parties but the stories that my roommates tell me give me a pretty clear image about what happens at the parties and what happens when you find yourself in his bed sheets.

Tonight was different though, I was out of my comfy pajamas, out of my comfy bed, out of my comfy room, just in general I was out of my element tonight because we're currently heading over to Chris' for one of his usual parties. My roommate has been begging me to come for weeks and tonight I finally caved in. As we got closer to his place, the loud music made its appearance, and I immediately started to regret my decision to go, why did I agree to go, why did I agree to wear my roommate's dress that has my butt slightly hanging out with every step that I take. "Hey you good?" my roommate asks turning her head in my direction. I simply nod. "Good, 'cause we're here," she says with a huge smile plastered across her face, grinning at me from ear to ear.

As I'm stepping in, the loud music starts pounding through my ears, the smell of weed and sweat hits my nostrils, and the sight of people dancing, smoking, and passing joints, people snorting lines and pushing tongues down each other's throats meets my gaze.

"Hey ladies," Chris walks up to us greeting us, his tone is sluggish almost lazy, his eyes dark and bloodshot his one hand already wrapped around some girl's waist as the other one is holding a beer. My eyes meet his bloodshot ones, his gaze is inviting yet dark at the same time, he quickly scans me up and down before licking his lips, a dark smirk forming on them as the grip around the blonde girl's waist gets looser.

"Let's get something to drink," my friend says as she pulls me through the crowd of people dancing. As I'm sipping on the hard liquor that's in my cup my roommate pulls me into the crowd of people that are dancing.

The music takes over my body as I move to the rhythm of the song that's playing. I take the last sip of my drink, my cup that's now empty has left me feeling a bit tipsy, I look around, searching for my friend who's nowhere to be found. I swiftly move through the crowd making my way to the kitchen to refill my cup while scanning the area in hopes of finding my friend but with no success. I refill my cup and find my way to the couch, I sit down, causing my already revealing dress to slip up even higher, half of my ass now being exposed on the old couch whose leather fabric is torn in multiple places, matching the vibe that the alcohol stained rug gives off that's underneath the couch.

While sipping on the strong drink that's in my cup I feel someone's eyes on me, I lift my head to look who it is, and I see Chris standing across from me, two chicks around him dancing and drinking their drinks as they try to rub up on him, trying to get noticed by him, yet his hungry gaze is set in my direction, his eyes wandering, scanning me up and down. I quickly lift myself up enough to pull my dress down enough to try to cover as much of my ass as I can, his eyes make their way up to mine causing me to turn head and look away.

I feel a slight bounce of the couch as someone takes a seat next to me, I look over and it's Chris, he sat down next to me and set down his beer bottle on the table in front of him before sliding his hand down the pocket of his grey zip up hoodie pulling out a zip lock pocket filled with weed, his fingers quickly reaching for the papers, eager to roll up a joint. I glance over his fingers as they precisely and quickly finish the joint, his tongue traces over the seal of the joint before he rolls it closed placing it between his lips and lighting it. His finger movement made my thoughts wander.

As he removes the joint from his lips he blows out the foggy cloud of smoke before turning his head in my direction, shifting his gaze to me, my eyes already examining him, his slightly curly but messy hair which were held back by a red backward cap, his relaxed pose as he sits in his ripped up couch, a smirk appears on his lips as he notices my focused stare, "want some?" Chris offers. I slowly nod before my fingers softly brush against his as I take the joint from him. I take a couple of hits before passing the joint back to him. He gives me his signature grin that makes all the girls weak in the knees.

"m' Chris," he says falling deeper into the couch and laying his hand behind me on the couch. "I know," I mumble looking down at my cup swirling around the liquid that's in it before taking a sip. "Dis ain't you're scene ain't it doll," he says his voice relaxed as he grabs his beer bottle taking a few sips. "Where your friend go?" He asks. I shrug my shoulders in response as I feel the effect of the weed slowly taking over my body.

"Ur like the quiet type yeah?" He asks as he takes the last hit from his joint before throwing it in the beer bottle. "I don't know," I answer. "You look like a baby deer, all cute n shit, I like that," he says his voice growing deeper as his tone stays relaxed. I take my eyes off the cup that's in front of me and look at him studying his features, staying silent. His eyes look more faded than before, his lips are glossy, I glance over his hands, and the thought of his fingers while he was rolling the joint pops up in my head making me bite my bottom lip as I feel myself getting wet.

"Doll you good?" He asks as he lays his hand down on my thigh, I nod. "Hey, you got any more weed?" I ask trying to break the silence. "Mhm, you wanna smoke?" Chris asks. "Yeah," I answer and Chris stands up pushing out his hand, offering me to take it. As I stand up I fix my dress and Chris leads me through the crowd of people to his room. The way to his room was a blur, the mix of alcohol and weed buzzing through my body as the flashing lights and the loud music spins around me.

As we enter his room he walks over to his desk and opens the top drawer pulling out a pre-rolled joint. He holds it between his fingers as he walks towards me. He presses his thumb on my bottom lip, putting the joint between my lips before pulling out a lighter out of his pocket and lighting up the joint that's in my mouth. As I inhale I notice his hungry stare, I take another hit and before I get to exhale the heavy white cloud of smoke, he pushes his lips onto mine, our lips moving in sync the fuzzy effect of the weed taking over my body as the music plays in the background the smoke escaping as our lips move against each other.

Chris' lips make their way down from my lips to my jaw as he leaves wet sloppy kisses. I throw my head back giving him more access as he leaves a trail of wet kisses from my jaw down to my collarbone, before removing his lips as he takes the joint out of my hand and puts it between his lips, taking a hit. Chris leads me to his messy bed, turning me over, my ass brushing against his growing bulge. He lets out a quiet grunt before I feel his hand on my lower back pushing me onto the bed.

I support myself on my elbows my ass is up, and my dress slides up, revealing my ass fully. "Mmmm," Chris sighs before I feel a smack against my ass. His hand rubs circles on it before giving another sharp slap and grabbing on it. His hand makes its way to my clothed core as he rubs circles on my clit. I let out a moan as I arch my back moving my ass closer to him yearning for his touch. "Eager are we doll?" Chris says before I hear him unbuckling his pants and pulling them down. His hand travels up the outer side of my thigh till his fingers reach and grab the waistband of my panties pulling them down.

Chris smacks his dick on my pussy a few times before aligning his dick with my entrance and pushing his cock inside me. "Oh my god Chris," I moan almost yelling as I feel his cock slipping inside of me filling me up. "So tight doll, fuck," he moans as he starts to move inside of me. As he's pounding into me his hand travels up my back, his fingers wrap around my throat holding a tight grip he pulls me up while fastening his pace, and I let out a loud moan. My back rubs against his chest as he holds a tight grip around my jaw, he moves his other hand and places the joint between my lips. I inhale and throw my head back as I let the smoke out.

I let out a loud moan as Chris fastens his pace his dick moving fast and hard in me, he pushes me causing me to crash my face into his sheets. He places a hard smack on my ass and I'm moaning his name over and over again as I feel myself getting close. "Chris-" I moan out, "Chris I'm bout to," I can't complete my sentence as the pleasure is uncontrollable. I hear Chris chuckle, his hand travels to my hair pulling on it, now pounding into me even deeper and faster. "Haven't been fucked this good yeah?" He says his voice deep and filled with pleasure before letting out a moan as he takes a hit from the joint that is in his other hand.

"I'm clo- Chris I'm so," I try to blur out that I'm close but with no success. "Look at ya doll, ur a mess over my dick," he chuckles leaning over me leaving a kiss on my back and continuing pushing hard inside me. I arch my back as I feel myself about to go over the edge. "Shit doll taking me so fuckin' good," he moans out not slowing down. I stretch out my hand grasping onto his sheets as I feel the knot in my stomach about to unravel. "I'm about to cum," I moan out. "Cum for me doll," Chris growls, taking a hit from the joint throwing his head back letting out a moan.

"Fuck doll," he moans as he places a deep hard thrust making me go over the edge. I let out a pornographic moan as my orgasm takes over me sending shivers down my spine and making my body shake. Chris continues to thrust and after a few thrusts he releases his seed inside of me riding out both of our orgasms. "that pretty pussy of yours all mine now doll," he says as he pulls out biting his bottom lip. Chris smacks my ass one more time before pulling up my panties and pulling down my dress so that my ass is once again covered.

As I stand up I turn over to look at Chris and I see him throwing out the joint he had finished smoking. As I’m about to start walking to the door I lose my balance as I am way too high to function. I sit down on Chris’ bed and I hear him chuckle. “Stay here tonight doll, I ain’t let anything happen to you,” he says.

[golbrocklovely]

candid // colby brock

A/N: i know yall…. it’s been so long since i last posted anything. my apologies on that one. i just haven’t been in the mood to write anything. but shoutout to these pics of colby bc the moment i saw them, i knew i had to write a fic about them. this one is sweet and basically just a blurb, but i promise i’m coming out with a longer fic soon. i got a lot i gotta make up for, and this is just the beginning lol lmk what you think and hope you enjoy !

prompt: your boyfriend looks good one day and you decide you need to take a picture of him. || colby brock x reader

trigger warning: none, super sweet and fluffy 🙂

word count: 853

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You look so handsome today.” I smiled sweetly, staring up at Colby.

He glanced away from his phone to me, his brow furrowing sassily. “What?”

“I said you look handsome.” I repeated.

He looked down at what he was wearing: a big t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His feet were bare, and his hair was not completely done the way he usually did it: straightened and with a bit of gel to keep it so. He had woken up from a nap an hour ago, his hair losing its flat texture for a more wavy, messy type.

He looked so beautiful, truly. But when didn't I think of him that way? I always found him beautiful, even well before we started dating.

He hid a smile at the corner of his mouth, “Really? I look a mess.”

“Not at all.” I shook my head, stepping closer to him.

He slid his phone into his pocket, locking eyes with me. His voice was low, bashful. “But you always say that about me. That I look nice…”

“Have I ever lied?” I questioned.

He twisted his face jokingly. “I feel like you probably have at least once.”

I gasped, swatting at him. “Absolutely not! You take that back.”

He grabbed my wrist, sliding his hand into mine. A playful smile rested on his lips. “You're too kind to me.”

“Maybe you need to see what you look like…” I pulled my hand from his grasp, taking my phone and pulling up the camera.

“Aww, c’mon babe. No.” He walked around the island in the kitchen, laughing halfheartedly.

I followed after him, “What? You don't want me to take a pic of you?”

“Not really, no.” He shook his head.

“Oh, coming from the guy that takes pics of me when I sleep?” I argued.

He turned to me, still backing away from me. “I only did that twice, and both times you looked so cute.”

I scoffed, “My hair was going in six different directions, and I was basically drooling!”

He grinned, his dimples appearing. “And you still looked beautiful to me.”

I held my breath; damn he was attractive… “Exactly how I feel about you.”

He groaned, covering his face. He stopped moving away from me however, leaning his one hip against the counter.

“Move your hands.” I grabbed his one arm, pulling it down. Both of his hands followed and I snapped a quick pic. His face was still partially covered, his eyes being the only part really showing.

“Maybe next time warn me about the flash. I'm blind now.” Colby blinked harshly, his eyes unfocused.

“Oh relax, you big baby.” I murmured, pulling up the pic. “See! Look how good you look.”

He gazed down at my screen, giving me a quizzical look. “You think I look good?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. He was so stubborn sometimes. “Yes.”

“My hair is so messy. I think I need a haircut.” He remarked.

I bit my lip, staring up at his hair. “I like when your hair is a bit messy.”

“I know you do. I don't, though.” He replied. 

“What? I never knew that.” I deadpanned.

He glared down at me, rolling his eyes and walking to the living room.

“Let me take another one!” I called after him.

He huffed, walking through the living room. “No. No. I think we're good with the candids today.”

“C'mon Colby, I whined, catching up to him. “You really do look so nice. Just let me take one more.”

He reached the stairs, ready to go up. “I think one is enough.”

I cut him off, jumping in front of him on the stairs. “Please.... just one more.”

“Why are you so adamant about taking a picture of me?” He snorted.

“I don't know, babe. Maybe because you're my boyfriend, and I love you, and I want as many pics of you as I can get in this lifetime?” I admitted, placing my hands on my hips.

He turned his head to the side. “Really?”

“Yeah. Plus you look really hot.” I added, winking.

He stared at me, his piercing blue eyes playful. He sucked his teeth dramatically. “Fine. But just one more.”

“Okay. Just one more.” I lined my phone up, "Pose for me, baby."

He rolled his eyes, placing one hand on his face, the other on the banister. I took the picture quickly, whispering a perfect under my breath.

Colby leaned over me, looking down at the picture. I smiled brightly. “Aww, this one is so good. What do you think?”

“It's not too bad.” He mumbled, shrugging.

“You'll grow to like it, I bet. Especially since I'm making it my background.” I smiled, already changing it to my background.

He took his phone out, following my lead. “I'm gonna make the one of you sleeping my background then.”

“As if you haven't done that before.” I raised an eyebrow at him, our eyes meeting.

Colby smirked at me. His eyes softened and he leaned in, kissing my lips. “Love you.”

My face warmed at his touch. “Love you too.”

[noxsangonomiya]

I don’t think yall understand just how much SangCheng - specificly Huaisang loving Jiang Cheng since they were young, whether or not Jiang Cheng knows - means to me.

I mean no one, literally no one, in Jiang Cheng’s life loves him most. Not his mother, his father, his sister, not even Wei Wuxian. He is always second place.

The idea that he could find someone who had always loved him and always put him first must be so foreign to him, and I desperately love what huaisang could do for this.

Cause like, they knew each other as kids and it’s perfectly possible for Huaisang to have loved him that whole time, and that is exactly what Jiang Cheng needs - exactly what he needs to hear.

The words “I love you more than anything” or “I have always loved you more than anyone else” would destroy that man and Huaisang would say them on a daily basis.

Little snippet of this concept beneath the cut (if you write anything w the concept lmk! I would love to read it!)

Jiang Cheng didn’t even know why he was here, standing outside Huaisang’s door in the middle of the night. They had training in the morning, and Wen Chao would beat them if they seemed tired. Nevertheless he knocked. When Huaisang answered, he wore nothing but a robe. It was the middle of a sweltering night and he had always felt the heat and cold acutely.

“A-Cheng?”

With the one single word, that one name, Jiang Cheng was sent back into memory. A conversation they had once had. They had been more than a little drunk, and he couldn’t remember whether or not Wei Wuxian had been there or not. He had asked,

“Who do you love more? Me or A-Xian?”

It was no secret that Huaisang was a cut-sleeve, and even less of a secret that he was in love with one of the yunmeng brothers; and most believed it was Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng figured they were right. That’s just the way things are. He couldn’t quite remember why he had asked the question, but what he could remember - clear and crisp as day - was Huaisang’s response. He had laughed. Not some little giggle behind his fan, nor the kind of laugh where you held your stomach or collapsed. But it had been so so real. Everything about the memory felt that way. He had expected Huaisang to laugh, and did not even bother to look up as he waited for his response.

‘Of course I love Wei Wuxian more!’

‘How could I love you more than him?’

‘He’s the one I love you know!’

All things he’d heard before. So he was shocked when Huaisang’s body collided with his own. He looked down to see Huaisang leaning up against him, wearing an amused smile and yet holding nothing but complete sincerity in his eyes and voice as he said,

“How could I ever love anyone as much as I love you?”

How could I love anyone as much as you.

those words had stuck with him. For a long time he’d had this reoccurring dream, of his wife. A blurry, nondescript figure, the dream always went the same. He’d be sitting at dinner with his family, his father looking only at A-Xian and his mother only at A-Li. He would be sitting at the head of the table, leader of his clan and yet utterly alone; then she’d walk in, striding through the room with praise on her tounge. She’d force all the eyes in the room onto him. Force his family to look at him. She’d go on and on about how great he was, and he would look at her with nothing but love and awe. Since that conversation his wife had taken a slightly different form, her voice strangely familiar, her eyes a golden hue. And she would always carry a fan.

Now, as he stood In front of Huaisang’s door, he realized why he had come. His whole life was falling apart before his eyes. His mother hates his father more than she ever loved him, his father loved Wei Wuxian more than he had ever loved him, Wei Wuxian was the ‘hero’ for putting Wen Chao in his place, and sooner or later the Wens would come for everything he loved. But the things he loved didn’t love him. Not first. Not most. But Huaisang did. And if he was going to lose everything anyways, he might as well enjoy being first, being loved, while he had the chance right?

“Do you still love me?”

The question caught Huaisang off guard, but he was only surprised a moment before the same smile from his memory resurfaced.

“More than anything.”

More than anything.

[crystalandbow]

PAC; BEST MANIFESTATION TIPS 🪞🕯️☀️🐚

HIII! Today we will dive into how you can manifest anything, whats the technique for you, what can you do to accelerate the process, etc. SOOO.... lets begin!

note: paid subliminal requests/ custom subliminals are available. and also paid tarot readings are open, for more details dm!

FREE TAROT

PAID TAROT

pick a barbie character 👇🏻

PILE 1

if you're wondering how you can manifest things super quick & easily, you are at the right place!

the answer is: simply by asking and letting go. some methods i'd recommend are the love letter method, or any letter / paper method (specifically anything that has to do with folding paper) for that matter. the 17 second methods and the surrender method.( you can either ask me doubts/questions about this in the comments or search them up on yt)

you are the people that think of the first case scenarios first. y'all overthink sm, which is obv not good. and i'd say that you shouldn't supress those negative thoughts but rather face them. 2 major things for you guys is facing your fears and doubts, 2- letting go and trusting the universe/spirit/god (whatever you believe in) also you guys could resonate with the little mermaid's story.

SURRENDER and LET GO!

ask and surrender. believe in the universe (444) and you've LITERALLY got this.

PILE 2:

Okie so if you're wondering how you can manifest things super quick & easily, you are at the right place!

the angel numbers that you see are not just co incidences, no, nope. they mean something. they are a reminder! they are a sign!!

the way that you guys manifest is through emotions my dear empaths. like even before i started your readings that is something i picked up upon, and if you want to know a litlle more scientific stuff about it then do check out barbara fredrickson's broaden and build theory. that will help you know what i mean. . whatever you feel within is what you attract, so think of good stuff, happiness, celebrate small victories.

some manifestation methods i'd recommend are gratitude, crystal work, green witch kinda stuff? water manifestation (especially sun water) , fake it till you make it, journaling & shadow work.

PILE 3:

hello! if you're wondering how you can manifest things super quick & easily, you are at the right place!

you are my prayer peeps, doesn't have to be very religious but you do believe in the power of prayers or asking the universe.

right off the bat you guys are my socially? "weird" people. the kids that are creative and different. yall are ENTHUSIAISTIC fssss. sm energy,sm passion ong. and the way you can manifest is through directing that energy into the right place. yall seem mis-directed in some way. another way you can manifest is through talking and connecting? writing? something around those llines like sharing your work/thoughts in some way.

i think you guys should read about ancient greek wisdom.

old literature and ancient knowledge will guide you towards an entire new perspective/world.

also calm tf down, like yeah we get it you want to have that thing rn/in a week but calm down my friend, ground yourself. also y'all need to relax & guide your mind it seems veryyy excited. its good but NOOO (its not helping atm)

basically redirection,taking steps, community, sharing knowledge & gaining knowledge, anient related stuff, prayers and staying happy/motivated, being free spirited, working with animals?.

some manifestation methods i'd recommend are vision boards, prayers, ancient manifestation tricks/methods? connecting with people/ sharing your knowledge., having a white pet could be lucky for you. or white is your lucky color and color magick too and taking actual actions/steps!!.

i think that you guys are pretty good at manifesting already, its more like a confirmation? (okay i fucking just realised y'all chose the weird barbie, its so reallll)

lmk your thoughts!!!

[midnightmoonytales]

hey can I ask Slytherin x reader what if the reader got into detention with Mattheo and Theodore and like in the first episode the detention was to help hagrid do something in the forbidden forest and the reader got lost and they all panic just to find tomorrow morning that the reader was peacefully eating breakfast at the campfire she build and be like "look guys I found a unicorn hair " sorry if it is to long I just can't get it out of my head

A/N: Uhm first off...I love this. Ya'll are feeding me, and I'm supposed to be feeding yall. It's also not too long, my dear; great ideas come at great lengths. sometimes. I started writing this at work and continued it in class - I totally have my priorities straight lol. I also apologize if it aint that good - I felt bad for how long it took to get this out

CW: Animal abuse, friends being sarcastic assholes to each other, death?. Lmk if I missed anything.

DON'T HURT ANIMALS - IF I FIND OUT YOU HURT AN ANIMAL IM COMING FOR YOUR KNEES

Summary: Mattheo and Theodore drag you into one of their little schemes, resulting in the three of you getting detention. What will they do when they seem to have lost you in the forbidden forest.

Not edited

WC: 2.8K

<><><>

It was an eerily quiet night in the castle. Too quiet, no student nor teacher in sight…not even a ghost. Halting to a stop, looking around suspiciously, straining your ears in search of a noise - maybe Peeves' vexatious schemes or Ms. Norris's beady paws- yet you heard nothing other than the wind blowing through the trees. Shifting the stack of books in your arms you continued your stroll back to the Slytherin common room. You spent the last beading hours of free time scrunched up over piles of books, preparing for OWLS. Chimes of the bells noted there were only a few minutes until curfew, most students had already found their way back to their common rooms - rather hoping to not be pulled into detention. 

You hadn’t worried about increasing your pace, seeing as the dungeon was only around the corner and down the stairs. Even if you didn’t make it inside the common room before the last chime of the bell, the prefects didn’t tend to be in the area till five after. Clocking when and where at certain times, after falling asleep one too many times in the library. The sound of rapidly increasing footsteps and the shout of inaudible yells caused you to stop at the corner, confused. Peering over your shoulder, you noticed dumb and dumber running from a fuming filch and Ms. Norris. The smell of burnt skin filled the hall as they approached, you didn’t have time to question what they did before they forcibly grabbed you by the arms and continued running, the books you had just checked falling onto the floor. 

You would think that the best place to hide would be the common room which was less than thirty feet away, and the benefit of Filch not being able to access inside. Unfortunately, Mattheo and Theodore dragged you down a different route. Up the stairs on the left, past the dragon statue, only to ascend up more flights of stairs. There was no reason that you would have to run away with these two - until the last bell of the night chimed, ringing through the halls - now you had no choice but to run from Filch. 

The boys were ready to dash left - until you forcefully grabbed them by the collars - forcing them down a different path away from the group of Ravenclaw prefects that patrolled that section of the castle. The last thing you needed was to get busted by a know-it-all Ravenclaw prefect. Your legs were aching and your chest felt like it was going to burst from running all around the castle non-stop, but Filch was still on you. That lot of you hastily made your way to the moving stairs near Gryffindor Tower in hopes of losing Filch. He might have enough joy from throwing students into detention to fill his stamina for a while, but sooner or later it would have to die out. 

You rounded the corner, the stairs were about to move and if you didn’t get on them now, you would be caught by Filch. The three of you booked it with what energy you had left, jumping over the gap created by the stairs moving. Mattheo and you landed barely just making it. Theodore on the other hand wasn't as lucky - holding on by his hands from the stairs trying to pull himself up before the stairs reconnected to another. Hastily, Mattheo and you grabbed him by his shoulder, hoisting him onto the stairs with you. Filch yelled at you all from his place on the bottom set of stairs that led to the third floor of the castle. 

As you all caught your breaths you made it into the hall, taking the long way back to the common room. Grateful for the breeze cooling you down, you didn’t realize how hot it had gotten running. The adrenaline pumping through your veins makes it feel as if your body is cold. Maybe this was the feeling Mattheo and Theodore were always looking for. The excitement…the rush. The boys were rambunctiously laughing and hitting their hands together, sweat flinging from their heads as they moved around. Already feeling gross, choosing to speed up faster to get in front of them and away from their sticky sweat. 

Rounding the corner, you immediately halted to a stop as you peered at the silvery-gray tabby cat, its eyes glistening eyes staring up at you before it morphed into a lanky woman in green robes, with pristine-pinned up gray hair. Any amusement that you previously felt earlier instantaneously drained from your body. At that moment, you wished it was Filch who had caught you and handed you off to Professor Snape, that would have been more tolerable. Maybe a little scrubbing of the cauldrons or the mopping of the dungeon floors. Mattheo and Theodore weren’t far behind, too busy messing around to notice the presence standing before them. As they approached your side, your hands quickly smacked them upside the back of their heads. Their quick remarks died out on the tips of their tongue as they finally recognized the women standing before them. You could almost see their souls physically deflating. 

“Professor McGonagall, looking good tonight,” Mattheo said with a wink, shooting finger guns at her. A swift bludger to the side would have been better than being forced to see Mattheos’ weak attempts at smooth talking his way out of another detention. She remained motionless, but her presence was still ever so threatening. Hands clasped together in front of her, quizzical brow sitting high on her face. The wind appeared to be enacting a mirthless taunt as her eyes bore into you all. 

“And what are the three of you doing away from your common rooms after curfew?” She questioned expectantly, her gaze piercing through your soul. A chill ran up your spine at her awaiting stare. There was no good lie for being on the other side of the castle during this time of night. Ms. Norris wouldn’t be the only cat you would have to watch out for in the halls from now on. It was like you were second years all over again, running into Professor McGonagall in her animagus form when you were roaming the castle - similar to tonight. 

A horsed breathing appeared from behind you, turning around slightly, you noticed an extremely out-of-breath Filch and Ms. Norris. You hadn’t heard his lopsided footsteps coming, too focused on the trouble you had gotten dragged into. If your fate wasn’t sealed before it would definitely be now. “T-they were,” Filch started, leaning over to take a breath, “They were setting things on fire, burned the end of poor Ms. Norris’ tail in the process, ma’am.” It felt like you had hit a brick wall. Of course, that's where the smell of burning flesh came from. Not even wanting to know how they managed to get Filch's mangey snitch involved. Leave it to Mattheo to set things aflame. 

With that, the professor requested that you all followed her to her office as she decided your fate. Maybe you would have to clean all of the animal droppings from today's Care of Magical Creatures class. Maybe she would have you scrub the great hall, or have you organize the entire library with the librarian. That would be a bore for sure. She sat at her desk silently, gazing up at the three of you every couple of minutes. Taking it upon yourselves to sit and relax before you found out your fate. Mattheo and Theodore took it upon themselves to start flicking pieces of paper at each other, not caring if it hit you in the process. It was a bad idea to decide to sit in between the two. “I’m surrounded by bloody idiots,” you groaned as you rubbed your temples, slipping further into the chair. 

“Hey, at least we’re hot,” Theodore barked out, flicking a piece of paper straight at the side of your head. Mattheo laughed in the background, giving Theodore a high-five. Maybe you could get away with their deaths, that sounded more appealing than sitting with them. 

“The only thing hot in here is the heat radiating from the lanterns,” you shot out with a laugh. Earning a ‘Hey!’ from the two boys sitting next to you. They weren’t going to be the only ones having fun tonight, especially not after dragging you into this. Mattheo and Theodore weren’t bad looking, but you would never confess that. It would go straight to their already small heads. They shared a singular brain cell most times for crying out loud. 

It didn’t take long for McGonagall to shush you all.  Standing up from her desk, pulling her glasses off to hang from her wrinkly neck, “Enough, tonight you three will be helping Hagrid in the forbidden forest.” She continued, gesturing to where Filch was standing in the corner, “Mr. Filch will guide you all there.” Filch's grimy smile spread across his face at the news. Groans left all of your mouths, going into the forbidden forest was a death wish. While Hagrid was never rude to anybody, unless they deserved it, being around him could be a bore. That was all left for Weaselbee, freak brain, and four eyes. You would think they were a gamekeeper like Hagrid with how much they hung out with the giant. 

<><><> 

The whole way to Hagrid's hut, Filch was going on and on about how he wishes he could punish students like he did in the old days. He even wished the lot of you a fake ‘good luck’, along with a ‘we’ll see if you're even alive tomorrow. His sickening laugh filled your ears as you pushed past him, ready to get this detention over with. Hagrid warned everyone of the danger promptly before rushing you all into the forest, complaining that it was us against the poachers. Whatever that meant, he didn’t elaborate until a while into the search, remembering that you didn’t know what you were searching for.

It had been an hour since you entered the forbidden forest with Hagrid, searching for an injured unicorn. Poachers had been on the rise and news got to Hagrid that an Unicorn managed to escape from their capture. Everyone was on high alert, between the acromantulas and dungbogs and the other creatures that resided in the forest, it wasn’t particularly the safest. Using your wands wasn't an option either, Hagrid was keen on it. Saying, ‘We don’t wanna get their attention,’ or something along those lines. Your attention is focused elsewhere. It was hard to see through the thick trees with only Hagrid's lantern. 

The forest was dense and never-ending, fog covered the grounds making it hard for you to see where you were stepping. You swore you stepped on a pile of bones at one point, the crunch under your heel leaving you disturbed. That poor unfortunate soul. The further you walked into the forest, the harder it became. You swore your ears were playing jokes on you, a distant wailing ringing in your ears every now and again. It almost seemed to be beckoning you away from the group. 

<><><> 

Mattheo had lost count of how long you all had even been inside the forest. He wasn’t really paying attention, to begin with. To him, this was just another unfortunate detention. The poachers had to get the unicorn by now, their “attempts” at saving the creature were slim. It was the cycle of life anyways, there would be more unicorns in the future, but it's illegal so gotta go save 'em he guessed. He rolled his eyes at the idea, shoving his hands into his pocket. 

Theodore and he tried messing around - whacking each other and jumping around - but were immediately stopped by Hagrid. Told that if they messed around they would scare the unicorn or attract poachers. Not that he cared much, he knew spells to easily get away from them or kill them. But he couldn’t mess up his father's plans, so getting away was the only option. Opting to mess with his wand in his pocket to entertain him. 

After a while he started growing hungry, having missed dinner. He knew you typically carried snacks in the pockets of your robe, turning around he was bamboozled to see you were no longer there. Smacking Theodore, he prompted him to turn around, becoming equally confused when he noticed you were gone. “Oi, where is she?” He quipped, stopping to look through the dense trees for any sign of you. 

“No idea mate, she was there a few minutes ago,” Theodore commented, walking back to where you were less than five minutes ago when he checked. He searched the bushes for any sign of struggle or broken branches but saw nothing. It was as if you vanished into thin air. There was no way in hell you would have gotten away from them without making some sort of sound. 

Hagrid turned around at the sound of their voice, “What are yer’ talkin' bout?” He questioned, raising his lantern so he could get a better view of the boys. “And where's yer’ friend?” He searched around the area, worried that someone might have snatched you up from behind, but he was sure he would have heard footsteps. “We ought to find her, let's go.” He grumbled, not only was he searching for a unicorn, he was now searching for a missing student. 

They had spent hours searching for you. The boys offered to split up to find you but were shut down. Hagrid couldn’t have more students to go searching for, finding you now was already hard enough. They had run into an acromantula nest at one point but luckily weren’t spotted. That was the last thing they needed. Theodore was unlucky as he had fallen into a hole, Hagrid spent five minutes pulling him out as Mattheo was dubbed over in laughter. That would be the highlight of his night. There was no way in hell that he would ever let Theodore live that down in his life. At this rate, they were lucky if they were to find you by daybreak. 

The sound of laughter filled their ears, the three of them going on to high alert. Or, well higher alert, their shoulders tensed with stress as they were already searching for you. Believing it ought to be a poacher camp nearby. Mattheo and Theodore grabbed their wands out in preparation, worried that if they stumbled upon a poacher camp, so could you. Hagrid was getting ready to sneakily guide them away when they heard your voice.

Stopping, Theodore pushed the bushes apart ever so slightly to try to find you. Hagrid and Mattheo stood over his shoulder to see. They all sighed when they noticed you sitting on the ground, a small fire lit in front of you with an injured unicorn sitting at your side. They stepped through the bushes, “We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Mattheo spat in disbelief, “and with a bloody unicorn at that,” He was absolutely exhausted from searching damn near the entire forest for you, and you just happened to be with the one thing they came in here for. 

“Awh, you guys do care about me,” You gushed, tightening the fabric from your robe around the unicorn's injured leg. “And all this time I thought you were just heartless children with parental issues,” you laughed. You had broken off from the group when you heard the distant wailing. Normally you wouldn’t be bothered to look, but something in your gut told you to. When you reached where you heard the wailing, it happened to be the unicorn you were looking for.

 Her leg had a large gash in it and she couldn’t walk anymore. She looked exhausted. Approaching her slowly, you made sure to put your wand away and walk towards her with your hands where she could see them. She was a sight to behold, her coat shining as if it was moonlight. You understood why her coat was so valuable. It took her a while to trust you but eventually gave in. Ripping the end of your robe, made a makeshift bandage around her leg, having to tighten it every once in a while when she moved. Pulling out a baggie of mixed nuts, you offered some to her, while you didn’t know about unicorn diets you hoped she would eat some. Luckily she ate away, and when she didn’t leave after a couple hours you made a small, unnoticeable fire to keep you warm until morning. She snuggles up to your side, safely.

“Maybe we should have left you to die,” Mattheo grumbled, ready to smack you for making them worry. But they would never tell you how worried they were, they wouldn’t hear the end of it if they did. At the end of the day, or well morning, they were just glad you were safe. This would definitely go down as one of their most eventful detentions. 

<><><>

@ghostofscarley @devilishwitchfantasies

[rawme-schlatt]

Thinking abt '99 schlatt with an immortal reader🙏

Uhhh beware this will probably be the most dead dove thing i post here ( HEAVY gore, wound fucking, allusions to murder, like i mean HEAVYYY gore) read at ur own risk.

You had met schlatt in an...unconventional way. He tried to kill you like all of his victims, and nearly had a fucking heart attack when your eyes snapped open halfway through chopping up your corpse to dispose of.

After thorough screaming, freaking out, and a sly offer: you become his stress relief and in return you get to finally feel something again lol

Schlatt didn't pull his punches, he didn't ease you into anything. He had already killed you before, he knows his toy can take it.

Once such night, schlatt has you chained to the concrete of the basement. Yall don't bother with the bedroom anymore, there's a drain and a hose in the basement which proves exceedingly useful during clean up.

(Besides, you like the extra dig of concrete against your skin)

He has this horrible hunger in his eyes, a twitch in his hands that tells you to brace for whatever he wants tonight

He doesn't kiss you, doesn't pretend to be nice, instead he presses his weight against your frail bones.

He relishes in the creak and grind of them beneath his boot, until your begging for him to finally break skin, to give you that wonderful pain

Schlatt grins down at you meanly, brings his foot down on your wrists in a horrible *crunch*, laughs at the way you moan.

After what feels like hours but was probably only 30 minutes of schlatt mutilating your arms until jagged bones broke through and your hand barely can stay connected to your wrist, he grabs his favourite knife.

It's the same one he used on you all those months ago, when he thought you would be just another victim.

He doesn't waste time, schlatt straddles your thighs and cuts your abdomen open like he's gutting a fish. His fingers press into the open wound, grabbing either side, and *pulls* you open.

The feeling of your organs, twitching and writhing, exposed to the cool air sends static lacing up your spine.

Schlatt runs an appreciative hand through the organs, fingernail catching under your liver. He hums, bringing the hand up to taste you in the best way possible.

But he moves on after that, heart set on a different goal.

The tip of the knife gently nudges your liver aside so it can glide a clean slice through your diaphragm.

All at once, you can no longer breathe, unable to inhale as schlatt peels back the muscle.

Finally, finally, schlatt pulls out his cock, sticking himself up with your blood.

Puts his weight fully into your shoulders (snickering at the crack they make) and nestles his dick into that tight warm space between your lungs

The head of his dick presses against your heart, beating fast as hell with adrenaline.

You start to pass out as he fucks into your chest, vision blacking from the lack of oxygen and well...everything.

You can't die, not really, but your heart stops and stutters while he uses you. Each time your body heals itself enough for you to wake up, you're right back on the brink, never getting the air you need.

When schlatt cums, he spills into the crevices of that tight space, pushing between your heart and lungs.

It feels like nirvana. The scent of whiskey, blood and sex all heady and thick in the basement.

He's nice enough about it afterwards

Shoves your organs back in the general place they need to be, knowing that makes the healing easier for you.

While your body does...whatever it does, he grabs the hose and starts cleaning up. It's nice, feels close to companionship.

I was gonna write more but omg this is getting long...uh pls don't burn me at the steak for this, also lmk if u want more I have so much pls plsnpls

[puffymucher]

Ok but dom Velvette topic got me thinking.. Velvette having a leash for hellhound assistant/bodyguard and at first saying it's because it's in style for hellhounds (am I making something here?)

you are so right. you're making something alright.

"𝓖𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓓𝓸𝓰."

I JUST... im so normal about them. yes velvette got up just to tug on the leash. we're so normal about that!! i also tried to put a little V in the heart idk if it comes across I ALSO HAD VELVETTE IN A DIFFERENT OUTFIT AND DIDNT NOTICE HALFWAY THROUGH ugh im going insane. feral. i need her carnally. ....listen... writer mutuals.. i call to you... my birthday is coming up soon, i would CRY if i got a little fic about this or some smut related shit about this AUGH PLEASE. OR JUST VELVETTE CONTENT. MORE GUARD DOG READERS!! SO GOOD!!! IDK I JUST BEG I BEG ON MY HANDS AND KNEES (also- a little tag for @bat-boness , if yall are interested in getting tagged lmk~!) ....and if you all dont... maybe ill write one of my own... >:]

[justsome-stars]

I’d Stay - Chapter 1

A Shadowpeach multi-chapter fic

Story below the cut!

Authors notes:

This is a band AU! So original of me, right? Ive been listening to MICO’s music and i can’t ignore the inspiration im getting to write, and this idea just came to me when listening to Homesick. The draft was a mess because i started writing without any concrete planned ideas, but thats okay. If this does well, I’ll post a detailed enough explanation of some of the background information.

Only things that really matter in this chapter is that Macaque is in a band, Destined Genesis, with “Lady” (LBD) and Mayorn (the Mayor). I did some fiddling with names and Aliases to make some names make more sense, which they aren’t so different but i wanted to clarify.

Unfortunately I didn’t have this beta-read, cause none of my friends are into LMK, so i guess I’ll have to look for someone to later on. Anyways love yall! Thanks for the support on my other fics <3

The neon lights on signs still bothered him. Be it too bright or in the way of the view, he just didn’t like them. Teal was blinding, but orange was just infuriating. And then there were the sounds of the city….

His ears ached. The cars were too loud outside, people were talking too loud, he needed an out. Even with his headphones on, as good at canceling noise as they were, he could still hear Lady’s shrill cackles from across the table loud and clear. Gritting his teeth, he tries to focus on the empty table in front of him. Bai’He sits to his left, arms crossed across her chest defensively. He can only feel worse, a heavy weight of worry, once he looks up, Lady throwing glares like knives at them both all while trying to carry conversation.

The people who had been so intent on interviewing them lost interest in him almost an hour ago now, and Macaque intended to keep it that way. Poor Bai’he seemed so tired, sitting next to him with heavy eyes, trying so hard to keep from nodding off. He didn’t blame her though, it was already late into the night, and she had school earlier that day. She must be exhausted..

His tail flicks beneath the table, tapping her foot lightly. She startles, looking over to him in a daze. Macaque frowns, looking to his shoulder and nodding to it, then back to her. It took a moment or so for her to process, but she gratefully took the offer, leaning over to rest her temple against his shoulder. At first, he had to keep his back straight as a board, worried he might disturb her if not, but eventually he let himself relax against the booth’s backboard.

The person who had been asking Lady questions was quick to take note, adjusting in her seat to look at him directly. “Macaque, who is this?” They glance at Bai’he with a smile that seemed too condescending for his liking.

“Oh, don’t mind her.” Lady cuts in, before Macaque could even open his mouth to speak. “Just my younger sister. Pay her no mind.” Macaque wants to scoff, scowl, something, watching Lady rest her chin on her folded hands across the table. Mayorn mutters something to her, which she turns her head to look at him, which he only shrugs when she whispers something in return.

“She’s never been mentioned before, has she?” The journalist looks down to their notes frantically, readying their pen. “How long has she been with the band?”

“She isn’t.” Macaque answers, snipped and direct. His phone buzzes against his leg, he has to push the urge to check it away. Not now. Not the time…

Adjusting their hand a few times, the journalist clears their throat and goes to ask another question.

“I believe we’ve concluded this interview.” Mayorn interrupts, offering them a pointed smile, standing from his seat to offer them a hand. They stand as well, giving him a rattled handshake with a flustered expression. Lady stands to offer them a hand as well, while Macaque makes no effort to move, too focused on his phone practically burning a hole in his pocket, only nodding to the Journalist.

They leave in a hurry, clearly confused by the abrupt end to the conversation. Lady recovers nigh instantly, turning to look at Macaque with a narrowed glare. “Tell me, just what is more important to you right now?”

“What?”

“Was your inability to focus on the task at hand purely accidental or was it a pointless act of rebellion?” Macaque tries to keep from shifting in his seat uncomfortably under Lady’s glare, lest he disturb Bai’he, who seemed to have drifted off to sleep the moment her head hit his shoulder. “You do understand your behavior, your petulance, is reflective of us as a whole, yes? If that interview ruins our debut, I will hold you solely responsible.”

Breathing through his nose, Macaque scoffs. “I told—” Bai’he shifts by his side, he stills. Too loud. “I told you I wanted nothing to do with the press. You know that, Mayorn knows that, my agent knows that and has reminded you repeatedly. This is on you.” Macaque spat, pointing a finger at her defensively.

“Need I remind you, the–”

“Our transportation is here.” Mayorn cuts in, raising his head from his phone to look between the two, well, three counting Bai’he. Right. Time to leave.

Shaking Bai’he awake, Macaque goes to stand. His phone buzzes again. Knowing just who it might be, it would only continue until he either looked at it or responded. The latter was unfortunately likely.

Stepping out of the restaurant finally was like a breath of fresh air, besides actually getting a breath of fresh air. The passing cars were still loud, but anything was better than hearing Lady prattle on about how he embarrassed her in too many ways for her to stand. The black cars wait outside, prepared to take them back home. Macaque piles into the back, finding Bai’he at his side again, groggily tugging at her seatbelt to click it in place before resting her head on the window and yawning.

There are two more buzzes, in quick succession, that come from his phone before he annoyedly fishes it from the pocket of his jeans. The screen lights up, illuminating his face and displaying 3 texts and 1 missed call, which had gone to voicemail since his notifications had been silenced almost all day.

Tuesday 10:49 PM

Home yet?

Mihouuuuuu

You hate meeee

Read 10:53 PM

He doesn’t have to wait for long before another text comes through.

Mihou :D

Biting back a groan, he types out a response before shutting his phone off for the rest of the drive home.

—

“It’s so bad. You’ve gotta believe me.”

“Oh trust me, I believe you. Your doomscrolling habit is catastrophic.”

The voice on the other end laughs, its soft and muffled, but it brings a smile to Macaque’s face.

“Wait, are you smiling? Mihou move the phone! I want to see!!”

Macaque’s brows furrowed. “Nuh uh.”

“Oh come on! Please? Cause I’m your favorite and you love me so so much?”

He did. He did love him, more than anything really, but admittance would get him nowhere. “No.” His phone stays at an angle, only showing half of his face.

“You hate me! You want me dead!”

“Oh quit whining. You’re fine.”

They settle into a gentle silence, Macaque can practically hear the pout through the phone and the eyes on him. He can’t help but chuckle. They call every night, the behavior is typical, but expected and a loved trait.

“When are you coming back?”

The question is welcome. “I was thinking of one of the weekends this month.”

[ladyoflucky]

please

Marie Campbell [killer frequency] x male reader

I need that woman

WOWOWO my first request…

Okay… first time writing male reader…. This takes an angsty turn idk man I love lost lovers

I agree I need that woman down horrendous

Also if you are expecting smut or anything really romantic my deepest apologies come back in a few months might be more comfortable then

Marie, imo, is still a young woman at heart. She had her first love ripped away from her, was pregnant, and basically spent 18-19 years raising her kid to be a killer, só if given the chance she’d likely try to make up for time lost by going to places like dance halls, skating rinks (she’s like 30-40 she’s limber enough), etc

George is going to be a dead third wheel. I’m sorry but like at the most she’ll love you both the same but you ain’t getting above that. also you’ll hear his name once a week. She’s also, unless you met her much earlier, unfortunately not giving up her crusade. you get the hottest MILF around but she has a penchant for stabbing people! Good (or bad) news is she might kill your enemies as well.

She’s very sweet in a near sickening way, gift giving, constant suffocating affection, again trying to make up for the love she couldn’t give George. Have fun with that!

also congrats to being a new father to her sweet boy Henry!! ( relationship also dependent on when you meet them) Either you meet him when he is older, and he’s rather standoffish, as his mother is probably the only person he speaks to regularly so to him its basically some dude showing up in his life, taking up a space he thought was solely reserved for his father. Though he won’t comment on it.

If you meet him young, you get to be his father figure! He’s probably going to have a complex relating to his mom basically instilling the idea that he needs to take revenge for a dead man he doesn’t know while having an alive dad… that would be a fantastic fic might cook later

She would like it if she could see parts of George’s personality in you, a ghostly memory of sorts. She would also probably go for younger ppl.. NOT predatory but like 23 perhaps? It’s easier for her to see George in a younger man rather than someone older.

Your hands had made their way to her scalp, carding through her dark strands. Her face was peaceful, a rare sight these days, with her constant planning on how to kill those who had led her precious George to his death. At times, you couldn’t help but feel a burning jealousy of the dead man, the way she spoke of him, lauded him as a saint. You were sure he was a nice man,but not to the extremes she claimed he was, but grief does strange things. It was like sharing a bed with a corpse, it’s cold arms encircling you and your lover.

As you stared, you thought about what it would be like to be able to live a normal life with Marie. A house, maybe with a front yard, instead of constant motel hopping, shitty fast food, and bloody rags.

Henry would be there of course, as you had gotten fond of the boy, even with his rather stony countance. You didn’t blame him, if a strange man showed up in your life as your mother’s new boyfriend after she preached about your father for all of your formative years you would also be wary. Still, you hope he’d warm up to you evenually.

As you watched Marie, you could feel your own conciousness slip away. As you drifted off, you smiled, knowing that when this was over, maybe, just maybe, you, Marie, and Henry could settle down.

You dreamed of a different future that night.

———

LMK what yall think!

[nic-liveblogs]

ok im gonna ramble a bit more on chinese because like its fun now im proud of my heritage!!!!!

anyway if you wanna write like mk or any other character introducing themselves you dont need to say like "my name is qi xiaotian" you could just say "my name is xiaotian" cuz like idk "qi" is his surname its kinda weird to introduce yourself casually with your surname right just use your first name

again, cultural differences this is how it goes in my country no clue how it works in like china or something but id assume its the same?? i also havent watched the chinese version of the show so idk how he says his name bruh 💀 also this mightve been obvious already but like i saw someone make this mistake (?) so yeah

ALSO QI IS HIS SURNAME!! like usually your chinese surname and english surname match up! i have an english and chinese name :)

so his name would be mk qi? or qi mk?? whatever mk stands for lol.. monktavius kidsworth

so like his full name would be "mk qi xiaotian" because usually your chinese name goes to the back or in some cases it could also be like "qi xiaotian mk" (which sounds better) idk this is so interesting to me guys..

i know some chinese surnames have english versions like

chen -> tan

hong -> ang

but i dont think qi is one of those ive never encountered someone with the surname qi?? i dont think its a popular surname so idk but probably not

again keep in mind cultural differences i live in southeast asia and the show takes place in china 😭

i could ramble about chinese in lmk for like days its just nice to know things and pick up on stuff :') like it feels awesome to flex my mother tongue yk!! anyway if yall have questions regarding chinese send them in i will try to answer to the best of my limited ability haha

[vivaladicamillo]

RYAN DUNN WITH A GOTH AND METALHEAD GN READER

heyy yalll im backkk, took a little break for a bit but IM BACK BABYYYY, ive been getting into goth culture a lot as of recent and have been changing my style to fit around it more so this is js a silly little thing to fuel my brain ☺️☺️ enjoyyy

WARNINGS: none

—————————————

GOTH

ok so really i think ryan would LOVEE a goth s/o

but it depends on the era of him

if we r talking BEGINNING of cky days i feel like he would be into it but NEVERRR let yk abt it

if we r taking 1999 ryan oh my god hed fall in love with u then and there

we all know back then he had a little thing for more hardcore women (COUGH COUGH YALL EVER SEEN GLOREN BRO, the leather jacket RYAN WE KNOW WHO U RR)

i feel like he would be curious about it

just with how intricate the style is

i feel like hed be into all the styles of goth ngl, hes js so curious on how it all works

the closet thing hes really seen of goth is bam fanboying over ville

soo not much to compare it too

i feel like he would ask so many questions

just like “where do u find clothes like that??” “how long does it take u to get ready?” js air headed questions

if u started dating him tho oh my god hes a sweetheart

anything halloween related that looks edgy in the slightest he will buy and say it reminded him of u

will help tie up corsets, clip on necklaces, and always have a spare pair of flat shoes on him just incase ur heels start to kill ur feet

obsessed with the make up, he thinks its so cool (and so hot)

oh bam is lowkey so jealous

especially if u are a fan of ville

ryan would try and color match his shirts to ur outfits

u wearing red? his shirt is gonna be red

purple? he has a purple button up somewhere

hes js so in love w u he doesnt care

will be the type of guy to run to the store last minute to get accessories for an outfit for u

also will buy u those overly expensive edgy ass heels from the store bc he know u will rock them

probably has tried on some of ur platformed shoes or heels and busted his ass

bam would probably be there dying laughing bc of it

or he would casually put on a hair piece or some necklaces and imitate you (he swears it out of love)

honestly would let u give him a gothic makeover, js dont show bam

he doesnt reallyy get whats going on but he loves it anyways bc he loves u

METALHEAD

oh he thinks ur so cool

depending on what metal genre u prefer he would listen to so many songs from it

i feel like he’d be a little intimidated at first bc mf thinks HIM and CKY is hardcore

he will buy patches for ur battle vest

love hearing u go on about the bands

WILL GO TO CONCERTS WITH U

warning tho hes gonna try and fucking stage dive into the mosh pit

hes gonna get his ass KICKED

loves ur accessories

the gauntlet cuffs, the bullet belts he thinks its so edgy and cool

hes a little scared of the corpse paint tho

hes seen bam do it but never fully going out with it

when he walks into the room and see u just with two massive black holes for eyes a white face and a frown drawn on it kinda scares him for a second

but he thinks its so cool after he realized

wants u to do it on him

literally if u do he will js be staring in the mirror of a good 20 lins is awe

will go to bar shows with u

cant fight for shit tho so if someone starts shit goodluck LMAOOO

lowkey would grow his hair out bc one of ur fav bands fav members has long hair

hes wayy more into this probably then the gothic vibe but tbh ryans such a sweetheart if he liked u, HE LOVEDDD u

—————————————-

hey yall so hope u enjoyed, ive been really into both these scenes recently and broo the goth metal style is my favvv, its hella cool. i need to start writing on here again lmk if i should do other cky/jackass members with different styles and genre loving readers!! byeeee :))

[maroonangels]

god okay wip list (in no particular order) also ignore that every single one of these is spider centric in one way or another. we’re not gonna talk about that

Spence — angsty spider family, brief spider & sasha, missy/spider, harper’s their third wheel and possibly their third partner depending on where I take it, spiders sister is fkn dead, he’s a mess, also his family is big asf

Arachne — spider/malakai, ftm spider, obligatory pregnancy fic, uncle dusty and he’s actually great, fucking messyyy ass timeline, also spider doesn’t tell malakai it’s his kid til she’s already born cause he’s a dumbass

But if it kills me, I tried — pure angst, dead dove do not eat, non con, spider/malakai (they’re fully consensual ofc), might actually be posting the first bit of this one soon 👀

crying — smut, amerie/spider, he cries during sex and that’s the entire fic

predictable — missy/spider, smut, sasha bashing, fuckin messy

hate to be lame but I might I love you — trans fem spider, spider/dusty, angstyyy, but also romance, long asf & still not done

cool girl — another trans fem spider fic, she’s a stripper and it’s a whole thing, eventually spider/malakai

we’ll make it out alive — amerie/spider, ANGST, sh & abuse, gore, they’re actually insane and everyone is concerned but them, they think they’re normal (they need to be sectioned /hj)

night terrors — obligatory supernatural fic, spiders fighting monsters at night, also angst between him & dusty *falls to my knees* those fuckin boys- oh and amerie/spider undertones

knee socks — yet another trans fem spider fic, spider/malakai, she’s drunk & he’s finding out wayyyy too many secrets for his liking, lowkey slutty

hits different — spider/malakai, basketball fic, god is this sappy as shittttt, malakai is whipped & spider is oblivious

smoking kills y’know — more spider/malakai, long fic, spider smokes and malakai folds, angsty but also not, quinni puts spider in glitter & he has a panic attack about it

or christ, hold me like a knife — harper/spider, angsty, autistic spider, yup there’s that and no I have no actual evidence for that other than it being a good angst opportunity (and projection but shush), fake dating trope, harper my soft girl omg she’s so worried

might not make it — ant/spider, smut, pure smut, it’s kinky too

my boy — harper/spider, also smut but with plot, kind of, also safe ass sex cause it’s what harper deserves

crash&burn — trans fem spider, harper/spider, smutty but with plot, dusty & sasha get bashed, sexy hot girlfriends that wear silk in bed and make dustys life hell on purpose

I got you — amerie/spider, another pregnancy fic but it’s amerie, it’s also malakais kid but he don’t know that yet, barely even started writing but have the entire idea in my head

syrup — another autistic spider fic cause y not, spider/malakai, dusty bashing, sappy & cute til it’s not and malakai wants to throttle dusty

a ride home — missy & spider centric, she moves his ass in when she finds out how bad his home life is, he’s traumatized to levels Missy didn’t know possible, ends up soft-ish, malakai is also a bro throughout it

orange juice — another trans fem spider fic, more missy & spider but also jai (missy’s brother) & spider, she gets kicked out and it’s a whole thing, ends up at the homeless shelter where jai volunteers and he helps her, eating disorders, bunch of shit happens, she moves in, lots of fkn angst tho

OKAY so that’s basically all of them <3 lmk what you think & hopefully none of yall snipe me down

trans fem spider x harper moodboards

“omg that’s such a crack ship-” too fuckin bad they’re girlfriends now

Spider pov :

Harper pov :

them together :

them together :

[n3tworksucks]

i was wondering if you would write hc about carl dating a girl w depression ? or like how he would act in a relationship when his partner is struggling mentally

HEYY GUYS, IM BACKK. SORRY IF ITS KINDA BAD, IM GETTING USED TO WRITING AGAIN.

warnings; mental illness, medication, lmk

word count;660

so, let's say yall were friends before you started dating, yeah?

so if you told him when you guys were friends, obviously he'd care and he'd say he'd be there for you.

which wasn't a lie.

he really was there for you and he really did care.

but when you guys started dating, and once he realized, like, what was happening to you.

it was a whole nother level of care.

and before, of course he new how bad depression is, probably being able to see it a lot, but its different now.

hes still there for you and he tells you a lot.

I can see him already being clingy, so I can see him being with you a lot.

not even just because you're struggling mentally, but because he's your boyfriend and he loves you.

but if you want your space, he totally understands and will give you all the time in the world, he'll wait for you.

he'd wait behind a closed door, or he'd wait at his house and with you at yours.

speaking of, he doesn't mean to be all on you about this, and he knows you can take care of yourself.

but sometimes he doesn't want you to be home alone a lot.

he'd want you to stay the night or two at his house.

again, not just because you're struggling. he loves you, and his family too..

or if you have a rough home situation, he'd 100% tell you you can stay however long you need to.

though he had to convince fiona a little bit about that, because she doesn't wanna feel like she has to take care of you as well, and don't get me wrong, she loves you and wants you around, but she just needed a bit of reassurance I guess.

but in the end, she, and the rest of the family welcomed you with open arms.

so back to carl.

if you take any medication, he'd honestly try his best at not trying to bug you about it.

like asking if you've taken them today.

but when he does, hes not just doing it for you, hes asking for himself as well, so that he knows your gonna be ok.

and I can see you and Ian kinda relating to each other for that, like talking about how it could be annoying, but you're happy he cares.

or if you see a therapist, he'd be more than happy to take you, and if not, that's ok.

if you're just feeling really, really down, you don't wanna get out of bed, no motivation to do anything.

he'd try and help somehow.

like bringing you food or water, or staying in bed with you. or he'd even clean a bit for you. only for you.

and if you're just struggling with school maybe, he'd offer to help with what he can, and he'd feel kinda bad if he can't help, but after he tries, he'd go to lip for help, then help you.

and if you're dating before he left for military school, when he decided to go, he really thought about it.

he didn't wanna leave you, but once you told him to do it for the 20th time, he went lol.

the day before he leaves, he spends the whole day with you, telling you how much he loves you.

and just as hes leaving, and saying goodbye, he'd hug you the longest, and give you kisses on you're face and he'd tell you how much he loves you.

in general, his go-to when it comes to trying to comfort you is physical touch, next to that is affirmations.

he loves hugging you, and kissing you, and telling you how much you mean to him and stuff like that, it makes him feel good too.

even if he doesn't 100% know what you're going through in particular, he'd try his best to and hes doing his best.