nkiranggss

I write one-shots inspired by songs :D

[nshmrikyii3]

This Is What Falling in Love Feels Like (Odysseus x Penelope) {ONESHOT} ~College! AU~

✧ TITLE: This Is What Falling in Love Feels Like ✧ PAIRING: Odysseus x Penelope ✧ SONG: This Is What Falling in Love Feels Like – JVKE ✧ FANFIC TYPE: soft · college au · fluff w/ emotional intimacy · sunshine boy x quiet genius · “i didn’t realize it was love until i fell hard” · comfort

Feel like sun on my skin—so this is love, I know it is.

Penelope’s life runs on caffeine and deadlines. The smell of burnt espresso clings to her sleeves, her laptop hums like an anxious heartbeat, and her planner—colour-coded to the minute—leaves no room for chaos.

Odysseus is chaos.

He’s late to every class but somehow aces every presentation. He doodles constellations on his notes instead of formulas and leaves sticky notes on Penelope’s laptop that say “you look nice when you forget to breathe.”

He’s everything she swore she didn’t have time for.

It starts like sunlight through a cracked window. One of those warm, golden afternoons where campus feels almost gentle.

She’s sitting under the old oak by the philosophy building, trying to finish a paper. Ody plops down beside her, out of nowhere, holding two smoothies.

“Got you mango,” he says, breathless from running. “You look like you need vitamin D and divine intervention.”

Penelope eyes the cup. “You bribing me or pitying me?”

“Neither,” he grins. “Just loving you responsibly.”

She blinks. “You—what?”

“Loving,” he teases quickly, “as in, platonically feeding your mortal shell.”

But there’s a flicker in his tone. Something softer, something that makes her chest ache before she can laugh it off.

That’s how it goes. Little moments that start to stack like Polaroids.

Late nights studying in his dorm. Fingers brushing when they share a blanket. His laugh—bright, boyish, real—echoing through the quiet.

He’s always making her look up, away from the screen, into the world. “Look,” he’ll say, pointing to some stupidly beautiful thing: a sunset over the dorm roofs, a stray cat sleeping on the quad, a broken vending machine that hums in the key of F.

And every time, she feels something inside her loosen.

Like exhaling after years of holding her breath.

One Friday, he drives her to the edge of town. “Trust me,” he says, eyes gleaming.

The car smells of takeout fries and old vinyl seats. Wind whips through her hair as the city fades into golden fields.

When they stop, the sun is melting into the horizon. He turns up the radio. JVKE’s voice hums through the static.

Feel like sun on my skin / So this is love, I know it is…

Penelope laughs softly. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Can’t help it.” He tilts his head, watching her instead of the sunset. “Everything’s cinematic with you in it.”

She tries to roll her eyes, but he’s smiling that honest, crooked smile. The one that looks like coming home.

He talks about everything and nothing. About how he doesn’t know what to do after graduation. How he’s scared of failing. How he wishes life could just slow down.

Penelope listens. And somewhere between the jokes and the honesty, she realizes she’d stay in this moment forever if she could.

His fingers find hers without a word. It feels natural—like something that’s always been waiting to happen.

The air is warm, humming with the quiet rhythm of the song still playing.

I know it sounds super cliché / But you make me feel some type of way…

He looks at her then—really looks—and says, “You make everything make sense, Pen.”

She blinks. “That’s not possible.”

“It is,” he murmurs. “You’re like… sunlight after a storm. I didn’t even realize I was cold until you showed up.”

Her throat tightens. “You’re just saying that because you’re scared of the dark.”

He smiles. “Maybe. But I think I’d follow you through it anyway.”

Later, when he drops her off at her dorm, she lingers at the door. “Thanks for the drive,” she says quietly.

“Anytime.”

He hesitates. Then adds, softer: “You make me look forward to the end of the day.”

She wants to say something, anything, but words fail her. So instead, she leans up, kisses his cheek, and whispers, “Goodnight, Ody.”

He doesn’t move for a long moment after she disappears inside. Just stands there under the porch light, smiling to himself, replaying her voice in his head.

And later that night, lying in her bed, Penelope can still feel it— The warmth of his hand in hers. The sunlight through the car window. The sound of his laugh.

It’s all the same thing, she realizes. It’s all him.

And this—this must be what falling in love feels like.

[poopoogoop]

no you’ve got it WRONG!!!! leo isn’t the brainrot kid!! it’s my glorious queen MEG MCAFFREY!!! she DID yell 67 at lester and she DID explain to him that he’s a performative male !!!!

[nshmrikyii3]

Good Luck, Babe (Sadie Kane x FEM! Reader) {ONESHOT}

✧ TITLE: Good Luck, Babe ✧ PAIRING: Sadie Kane x Reader ✧ SONG: Good Luck, Babe ✧ ARTIST: Chappell Roan ✧ FANFIC TYPE: angst · bittersweet love · emotional denial · the one that got away · lovers to almosts You used to think that magic was the hardest thing to understand. Then you met Sadie Kane.

She was chaos in eyeliner and a British accent, all sharp edges and firelight, every word a dare. You were her partner-in-crime, her anchor when the magic went wrong...which was often. You’d catch her smirk across the battlefield, sand whirling around her feet, and you’d forget how to breathe.

She made the world feel too bright.

And maybe that’s what doomed you from the start.

It starts with a spell gone wrong—because of course it does. A charm meant to protect ends up exploding into pink smoke and singed eyebrows, and you’re both laughing, coughing, and half-covered in soot. She looks at you through the haze, hair a mess, eyes gleaming like the sun’s last spark.

“Nice one,” she says, breathless. “Next time maybe don’t add your own twist, yeah?”

You grin. “Says the girl who once turned a hieroglyph into a frog.”

“Rude. That was intentional.”

And then, you don’t remember who leans in first. Was it her hand brushing yours, or your breath catching at her lips? But when you kiss her, it feels inevitable. Like every fight, every banter, every late night spent fixing wards was leading here.

She tastes like mint gum and danger.

For a while, it’s enough.

You sneak kisses in the library, trace protective runes on her wrist just to feel her pulse, and fall asleep on the couch after late patrols. She teases you constantly—“Don’t get sappy, love”—but she looks at you like you hung the moon.

But then comes the distance.

The little comments that sting: “It’s not serious, is it?” “Can’t get distracted.” “You know how my life is.”

You laugh it off at first. She’s just scared, you tell yourself. She’s Sadie. She doesn’t do vulnerability. But one night, when you reach for her hand and she pulls away like your touch burns. That’s when something inside you cracks.

“Sadie,” you whisper, “just tell me what this is.”

Her jaw tightens. “It’s— it’s fun, yeah? Don’t make it something it’s not.”

You stare at her. The words hang in the air like a curse. Fun.

She leaves before you can reply.

Weeks pass. The House of Life moves on; new missions, new chaos. Sadie laughs too loud, trains too hard. You pretend not to see how her hands shake when she casts spells.

And then, one night, you catch her outside, staring at the Thames, arms crossed like she’s holding herself together.

“You still think about it,” you say quietly.

She doesn’t turn. “About what?”

“Us.”

She exhales, long and tired. “You don’t make it easy to forget.”

You take a step closer, voice trembling. “Then stop trying.”

Sadie’s eyes flick to yours. They were all storm and guilt and something she refuses to name. “You don’t get it,” she says, almost breaking. “Everyone I love… something happens to them. I can’t—”

You cut her off. “That’s not love, Sadie. That’s fear.”

The silence that follows feels like the world holding its breath.

You leave the next morning. Not out of anger but out of mercy. For both of you.

She doesn’t stop you.

But you know she watches from the window, hair tangled, eyes red. You know she whispers something that sounds like your name, but the wind steals it away.

Years later, you hear she’s settled down. Someone else at her side. A man. You see a photo once. Her smile was bright, but her eyes were distant.

And maybe she’s happy. Maybe that’s enough.

But sometimes, when you dream, you see her—arms out like an angel through the car sunroof, laughing into the wind, wild and untouchable. And you remember how it felt when she kissed you. Like the world could stop spinning, just for a moment.

You whisper it to the dark—not as a curse, but as a prayer.

“Good luck, babe.”

Because she’d have to stop the world just to stop the feeling. And you both know the world never stops.

✧ TAGS:

[nshmrikyii3]

HELLO THERE MOOT(not gonna say ur name ofc)

HI POOKIE :DDDD

[nshmrikyii3]

True Love and Understanding (Yang Jungwon x Reader) {ONESHOT}

✧ TITLE: True Love and Understanding ✧ PAIRING: Jungwon x Reader ✧ SONG: Hey Lover ✧ ARTIST: Daughters of Eve ✧ FANFIC TYPE: fluff · comfort · love that feels like home · retro romance · 1960s soft boy Jungwon agenda

You never needed him to be perfect.

Not the top of the class, not the loudest in the room, not the one who wins every game or gets every award. Jungwon isn’t the kind of boy people write headlines about. But he’s the one you’d write songs for.

The way he ties his shoelaces twice just to be sure. The way he saves you the last bite without being asked. The way he always asks how your day was and listens.

He’s not a star. But he shines for you anyway.

You’re both walking home in the soft, golden hour. His hoodie’s too big on you. Your backpack’s bumping against your side. He keeps glancing at you like he’s trying to memorise this moment, not for any reason other than this is his favourite kind of quiet.

“Sorry I can’t take you somewhere cooler,” he says suddenly, sheepish. “Like, some rooftop café or a beach or something.”

You shake your head and nudge his arm. “I like walking with you.”

Jungwon laughs under his breath. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t need fancy. I just need you.”

He stops walking. Looks at you like maybe the sky just changed colors behind you. “Seriously?”

You turn to face him fully, tugging gently at the sleeve of his jacket.

“You don’t have to be anything more than you are. I like you. Not your résumé.”

It’s not that he doesn’t believe you. It’s just that he never expected anyone to say it out loud like that. Like he’s enough. Like someone could love the way he laughs too hard at old cartoons and buys strawberry milk because he thinks it tastes like memories.

You end up in a small park. One bench, a couple of uneven stepping stones, and a lamppost that flickers when it gets dark. He buys you ice cream from the machine that barely works and sits beside you like it’s the best seat in the world.

And it is.

“I’m not good at saying things,” he admits, eyes focused on his melting cone. “But you- you make stuff feel easier.”

You smile and lean your head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to say anything big. You’re already doing everything right.”

He lets out a soft breath, the kind you only do when your chest stops feeling heavy.

Then, shyly, like he’s afraid it might come out wrong: “I’ll try to give you the kind of love that lasts. The real kind. Like the stuff in old songs.”

You nod. “That’s all I want.”

Because you never needed a king. Just someone who’d stay. Not someone who makes promises, but someone who keeps showing up. You’d choose quiet over grand. Hands held tight over hands thrown up in apology. You’d choose him.

Every time.

That night, as he walks you home and waits for the light to turn green, you catch him glancing your way again.

“What?” you ask, half-smiling.

He shrugs. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?”

His cheeks turn pink. “You.”

You grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m just... lucky.”

You bump your shoulder into his. “So am I.”

You don’t need him to be anything more than Jungwon. He doesn’t need to be a star. He just needs to love you like he means it. And he does.

[nshmrikyii3]

Stuck on you (SIM JAEYUN X READER) {ONESHOT}

✧ TITLE: Stuck on You ✧ PAIRING: Jake x Reader ✧ SONG: Glue Song ✧ ARTIST: beabadoobee ✧ FANFIC TYPE: fluff · soft angst · friends to lovers · one-shot · wistful but warm

You never meant to get this attached.

But there’s a frog keychain in your bag, a doodle of your name on his suitcase, and Jake Sim is leaving tomorrow.

You’re not sure when it changed. When the jokes stopped being just jokes, when the silences started saying more than the words did. Maybe it was the second convenience store run. Perhaps it was the way he said your name that day in the middle of a crowded train station, like it was the only one he wanted to remember.

Maybe it was always going to be this way.

He knocks on your door just before golden hour, grinning with two iced teas and a pack of those weird cookies you both pretend to hate but always finish.

You let him in. You always do.

“Almost done packing?” you ask, and he nods, nudging your shoulder with his.

“Yeah. Just the boring stuff left.”

“You mean, like, your entire bathroom and half your sock drawer?”

He laughs, and it makes your chest hurt a little.

You end up back at your usual spot. That half-crumbling rooftop with the cracked tiles and the perfect view of the sunset no one else seems to know about.

Jake lies back against the concrete, hands tucked under his head, ankles crossed. You sit beside him, knees pulled to your chest, trying to memorize everything without making it obvious.

The sky is the kind of orange that makes everything feel softer. Braver. Like maybe if you say the thing, it won’t ruin it.

But you don’t.

Not yet.

“I made you something,” Jake says suddenly, reaching into his hoodie pocket. “Don’t laugh.”

You blink, caught off guard, and then he’s handing you a folded piece of notebook paper. You unfold it gently, and your heart kind of stutters.

It’s a doodle. A messy, silly one. A cartoon version of you—big eyes, holding a bubble tea, surrounded by tiny stars. Underneath it, in his handwriting: "Don't forget me when I'm famous."

You bite your lip to keep from smiling too wide.

“This is terrible,” you say.

He grins. “I know.”

You fold it carefully and tuck it into your bag like it’s priceless.

The moment stretches out, quiet and easy. Then you murmur, “Don’t forget to kiss me, or else you’ll have to miss me.”

You say it like a joke. Like you’re just quoting something you saw online.

But Jake turns to look at you.

And something in the air shifts.

His smile fades, just a little. Not in a sad way. In the kind of way that says he’s thinking too hard about something he’s tried not to think about.

And then, slowly, he leans in.

You could stop him. You don’t.

The kiss isn’t perfect. It’s a little clumsy, like you both waited too long and forgot how to be cool about it.

But it’s real.

It’s careful. And warm. And soft. And it says more than either of you have all day.

When he pulls back, he’s still close enough to brush your cheek with his nose.

“I guess I’m stuck to you now,” he whispers.

You smile. “Then stay stuck.”

You walk home in the glow of it. He carries your bag even though it’s mostly full of snacks and old receipts. His fingers brush yours, and this time he doesn’t pull away.

He still leaves tomorrow. But maybe that doesn’t have to mean goodbye.

Not really.

[nshmrikyii3]

Every Time You Call, I Answer Anyway (Heeseung x Reader) {ONE-SHOT}

TITLE: Every Time You Call, I Answer Anyway PAIRING: Heeseung x Reader SONG: Treat Your Friends ARTIST: MICO FANFIC TYPE: angst · friends to “almost” · situationship ache · unspoken feelings

It’s 11:47 PM when you hear the knock.

Three soft taps. Just enough to be polite. Just enough to make it seem like this is something he debated, like maybe he wasn’t already halfway here before he even knew what he was doing.

You don’t answer right away.

You just sit there, curled on your bed with your phone dim in your hand, hoping maybe this time he’ll get tired of waiting. That maybe he’ll turn around. That maybe this will be the night he chooses not to confuse you.

But then you hear it. The sound of the spare key slipping into the lock.

Same as always.

Heeseung lets himself in like the hallway lights aren’t still flickering behind him. Like he doesn’t smell like cold air and regret. Like he hasn’t done this before.

And maybe that’s the worst part. He has.

You don’t say anything. Neither does he. He just hovers by the door like he doesn’t know where he fits anymore. Maybe because he doesn’t.

Your apartment’s dark, except for the bedside lamp you forgot to turn off. It bathes the room in a soft, sleepy yellow, like it’s trying to make this feel less complicated. Less raw.

It doesn't work.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

You let out a tired breath.

“You always say that.”

It’s not cruel. You’re not trying to hurt him. But the words fall flat between you like a truth you’ve both outgrown.

He drops his gaze to the floor. Like this time, it does sting.

And then he’s sitting beside you, still leaving that familiar sliver of space, but close enough that you feel the weight of him. Feel the gravity you hate yourself for missing.

It was different before.

Before the kiss. Before the lingering stares. Before his hand found the small of your back one night and stayed too long. Before you started to notice the way he only came when his world got too heavy and his heart too full of someone else’s silence.

You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t chase it. But you let it happen. Every time.

It’s easy to pretend when he’s like this. When he’s tired and gentle and warm. But it’s not real. Not really. Because in the morning, he’ll pull away again. He’ll say something careful, like “I didn’t mean for it to get weird.” And you’ll nod and pretend it’s fine, because it’s easier than admitting it broke something.

“Can I stay?” he asks.

You want to ask why. Why tonight? Why now? Why you? Why does he only show up when he doesn’t want to feel whatever else is eating at him?

But instead, you just nod. Of course, he can stay. He always does.

He climbs under the covers like he belongs there. Like his hoodie doesn’t still smell like someone else's perfume.

His shoulder brushes yours.

You don’t lean in.

Heeseung speaks first.

“Are we okay?”

You pause. “Define ‘okay.’”

A beat of silence. Then he sighs. “I don’t know. I just... I don’t like it when things feel off between us.”

You stare at the ceiling. “Things feel off because they are.”

You finally turn your head to look at him. And he’s already looking at you, eyes soft, guilty, unsure.

You keep going. “You keep showing up like I’m the one place you trust. But you don’t choose me, Heeseung. You use me to fill the space between what you want and what you can’t have.”

He looks like you slapped him. You almost wish you had. It would’ve been cleaner.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he whispers.

You nod. “Neither did I.”

He opens his mouth to say something. Then closes it. The silence is deafening.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says finally.

And maybe that’s the part that ruins you. Because you believe him. You know he didn’t mean it. You know he’s just lost, not cruel.

But it still hurts.

“I waited,” you say. “For you to figure it out. For you to want me the way I wanted you.”

Heeseung doesn’t respond. Doesn’t look away either. Just stares like he’s realising too late that you’ve been breaking in real time.

“I thought it meant something,” you say, quieter now. “The way you looked at me. The way you’d call at midnight just to hear my voice. The way you kissed me like you meant it.”

“I did mean it,” he says quickly.

You close your eyes. “Then why did you run from it?”

There’s no answer. Just the soft hum of the city outside your window. The low buzz of a life that kept moving while the two of you stayed stuck in a loop that felt like love but wasn’t.

“I’m not asking for anything anymore,” you tell him. “Not explanations. No promises. Not even friendship, if you can’t be honest with me.”

His voice cracks when he says your name. “Don’t say that.”

“You can’t keep coming back if you’re not going to stay.”

You feel him shift beside you, like he’s going to reach for your hand. But he doesn’t. Maybe he knows he doesn’t get to anymore.

You don’t ask him to leave.

He just does.

Quiet. Hesitant. Half-turning at the door like he’s waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

And that’s how you know this time is different.

You sit alone on your bed long after the door clicks shut. Staring at nothing. Listening to everything.

And even though he’s gone, you swear you still feel him.

Like a song you can’t stop humming, even after you forget the lyrics.

You sit there in the quiet, letting it all settle. The words you said, the ones he didn’t. The ghost of him still lingered in the air like warmth that hadn’t quite faded.

And even after everything... After the confusion, the silence, the in-betweens that bled into something too tangled to name... You still find yourself listening for footsteps down the hall. Still checking the time. Still thinking maybe… maybe he’ll turn around.

Because part of you knows. If he knocked again, you’d open the door. If he said he didn’t know where else to go, you’d move over on the bed. If he asked you to stay in the space between almost and never— You would.

And you hate that.

But it doesn’t make it less true.

You lay back on the bed, eyes tracing the ceiling cracks you’ve memorized in the dark. Hands curled over the pillow where he used to sleep.

You know he’ll come back. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not next week.

But he will. And when he does?

You’ll still be here. Even if you don’t want to be. Even if you shouldn’t be.

Because that’s what you do.

You wait. Every night. Just in case.