#━━ texts ｢ there's power in the words you're thinking ｣

[chroniclesofskz]

Virgin Boss

Y/N was a young woman with a penchant for the unpredictable. Her bright blonde hair fell in loose waves down her back, framing a face that was equal parts mischief and innocence. She had a way of lighting up a room with her infectious laugh and the sparkle in her ocean eyes. Tonight was no different. The neon lights of the bustling city outside the bar were reflected in her eyes as she threw her head back, letting out a giggle that was a bit too loud for her own ears. Her friends had left hours ago, unable to keep up with her insatiable appetite for fun. But Y/N was just getting started.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, interrupting her latest dance move. She fished it out, squinting at the screen. It was a message from her boss, Mr. Bang. The sight of his name sent a strange thrill through her. He was known for being a cold, demanding CEO, but tonight, she felt invincible. The whiskey in her system had loosened her tongue and her inhibitions. With a devilish grin, she typed out a reply that would normally make her cringe. "You're such a virgin who needs to get laid," she sent, and hit send without a second thought. Her giggle turned into a cackle as she chugged the last of her drink and slammed the glass on the counter.

The next morning, she woke up with a pounding headache and a mouth that tasted like a frat house floor. The memories of the previous night were hazy at best. She stumbled into work, trying to piece together the events of the night before. It was only when she walked into the office that she remembered her text to Mr. Bang. Panic set in, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. She hoped he wouldn't bring it up.

But of course, he did. His office door was open, and she saw him leaning back in his chair, scrolling through his phone. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, a smirk playing on his lips. He beckoned her over, and she felt the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. "Good morning, Y/N. Did you enjoy your… enlightening evening?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement. She gulped, her mind racing to come up with an excuse. But before she could say anything, he handed her a glass of water and some painkillers. "You look like you could use these," he said, his eyes scanning her body, taking in the tightness of her skirt and the way her blouse clung to her in all the wrong places.

Her hangover fog lifted slightly as she took the offered pills, her cheeks still on fire. "Thank you, Mr. Bang," she murmured, trying to compose herself. He leaned back, his fingers steepled under his chin. "You know, I've been thinking," he began, his voice dropping to a purr, "about what you said last night." Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. "What I need," he continued, "is someone to show me the ropes."

He stood up, and she watched in horror as he stalked towards her, the power dynamics in the room shifting palpably. His hands landed firmly on the chair arms, caging her in, and she could feel the heat of his body mere inches from hers. He leaned down, and she could see the hunger in his eyes as they traveled from her eyes to her lips. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating, mingling with the faint scent of his desire. "If I'm such a big virgin," he whispered, his breath hot on her neck, "why don't you do something about it?"

Her heart was racing now, a mix of fear and excitement sending waves of heat through her body. She didn't know what she'd gotten herself into, but she couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through her at his words. Her eyes darted to his, and she saw the challenge in them. He was calling her bluff, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to play this dangerous game. But something inside her, something primal and wild, urged her to accept it.

He stepped back and locked the door, the click echoing through the now silent room. His movements were deliberate, each step calculated to build the tension. As he approached the window, she watched him, her breathing shallow and rapid. He drew the blinds one by one, shrouding them in darkness. The only light now was the faint sunlight, the city outside, casting little cracks of sun across the floor. When he turned to face her again, she could see the outline of his muscular frame, the contours of his face highlighted by the dim light.

"Mr. Bang," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I didn't mean—"

"Oh, but I think you did," he cut her off, his smirk deepening. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to trace the curve of her jaw, his touch sending electric currents down her spine. "Or are you just playing coy with me?"

Y/N's eyes widened, and she swallowed hard, trying to form words that wouldn't betray the sudden ache between her legs. The way he was looking at her, like she was the only thing that mattered in the world, was intoxicating. His fingers slid down to her neck, and she could feel the pulse racing there. "Mr. Bang," she began again, her voice barely a whisper.

He didn't let her finish. With a feral growl, he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "Shh, princess," he murmured, his hand tightening around her mouth. "You're going to shut up and take it like a good girl." His words sent a thrill through her, and she felt a gush of wetness between her thighs. Before she could process what was happening, he crouched down and ripped her shirt open, the buttons flying everywhere.

Her breasts were now exposed, the white lace of her bra the only barrier between her and his hungry gaze. He took a moment to appreciate the sight, licking his lips before he tore the bra off in one swift motion. The cool air hit her hardened nipples, making her gasp. He took one in his mouth, sucking hard and leaving a red mark, claiming her as his. The sensation was so intense that she could feel it all the way to her core. The sound of her own moan was muffled by his hand, which was now pressing against her mouth.

Mr. Bang stood up abruptly, his towering presence making her feel even more vulnerable. "Now, stand up," he ordered, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. Y/N complied, her legs wobbly from the combination of fear and arousal. He grabbed her arms, his grip firm and unyielding, and pushed her down onto his desk. The cold glass sent a jolt of sensation through her body, making her wetness even more pronounced.

Her heart raced as he unzipped her skirt with a deliberate slowness that made her squirm. She watched the fabric slide down her legs, pooling at her ankles, leaving her in just her white lacy thong. He took in the sight of her barely concealed pussy, his eyes dark with lust. His hand reached out and traced the line of the thong, his fingertips grazing her wetness. The anticipation was unbearable, her breath hitching in her chest. "You think I'm a virgin?" he whispered, his voice thick with challenge. "I'll show you just how much of a virgin I really am."

With a swift motion, he yanked her hands behind her back, looping his necktie around her wrists and binding them together tightly. The restriction sent a jolt of excitement through her body, her breasts pushing up against the desk as she tried to get comfortable. The sound of his belt buckle unclasping and the metallic clink as it hit the floor made her heart skip a beat. He stepped closer, his crotch now mere inches from her face. "Look what you've done to me," he said, his voice strained with need.

In the reflection of the mirror that lay in the corner, she caught a glimpse of his massive erection straining against his tailored trousers. The realization of its size hit her like a punch to the gut. "Mr. Bang," she murmured again, her voice quivering with a mix of fear and desire. He leaned down, his smirk widening as he heard the doubt in her voice. "Don't worry, princess," he whispered. "I'll make sure it fits."

With a swift yank, he pulled her panties aside, and before she could protest, his cock was pressing against her slick entrance. The head of his cock nudged at her, and she gasped at the intrusion, her eyes wide with shock. "Take it," he demanded, his voice a low growl. "Take it like the good girl you are."

With one swift thrust, he was inside her, filling her up completely. The pain was intense, a stark contrast to the pleasure that had been building inside her. She screamed, the sound muffled by his sock as he stuffed it into her mouth, his hand wrapping around her hair to hold her head in place. Her eyes watered, but she bit down on the fabric to keep from making too much noise. Her body was his now, and she knew she had to submit to his every whim.

He slapped her ass, the sound echoing through the room as he whispered, "Naughty girl, I told you to shut the fuck up." His grip on her hair tightened, and she felt the sting of his slap, the heat spreading across her skin. The pain was a strange mix of punishment and pleasure, making her cunt clench around him. She never knew she had a kinky side, but here she was, her body responding to Mr. Bang's dominance like it was made for this.

Her legs felt like jelly, trembling with each deep thrust he gave her. The pressure building inside her was unbearable, and she was sure she was going to come any second. His other hand found her clit, and he began to rub it with a fierce intensity that sent waves of pleasure crashing over her. The sensation was too much, a symphony of pain and ecstasy that she didn't know she could handle. But she was going to try, for him.

Suddenly, she felt a release, her body convulsing as she squirted all over his cock. The wetness was a stark contrast to the dryness of the room, the sound of her juices hitting the floor echoing through the silence. He pulled out with a grunt, his cock glistening with her arousal. He took a moment to admire the sight of her dripping onto the floor, the puddle growing larger with each passing second. "I'm not finished with you yet, bitch," he growled, his voice thick with lust.

Without warning, he slammed back into her, the sensation of his thick member filling her up making her eyes roll back in her head. She couldn't believe how much she enjoyed this, the feeling of being used by her boss, the man she had always feared and desired. His thrusts grew harder, faster, more punishing. She could feel every vein, every ridge of him, as he claimed her in a way no one else ever had. The pain was intense, but it only served to heighten her pleasure.

Her moans grew weaker, muffled by the fabric in her mouth, as she felt his grip tighten on her hair. His grunts grew louder in her ear, his breathing more ragged. She knew he was close, and the thought of his release made her clench around him, eager to feel his hot cum fill her up. Her legs were trembling uncontrollably, and she could feel the desk biting into her skin, but she didn't care. The only thing that mattered was the man fucking her into oblivion.

With one final, powerful thrust, she felt him spasm inside her, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself into her quivering cunt. The warm, salty liquid filled her, and she moaned in pleasure as she felt the heat of his seed against her walls. He held himself deep within her for a moment, his breathing slowing before he pulled out with a wet sound. The feeling of emptiness was almost painful, but she knew it was only temporary.

Y/N lay there, gasping for air, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Tears streamed down her cheeks, not from pain but from the intensity of the experience. The room was still, the only sounds their heavy breaths and the rustling of their clothes. The sock in her mouth was wet with her saliva, and she felt a mix of relief and disappointment when he pulled it out.

Mr. Bang leaned back, his chest heaving, and she could see the satisfaction in his eyes as he looked at her. "Don't ever test my abilities again," he murmured, his voice still filled with the raw power that had just claimed her. He let go of her hair, and she felt her head fall heavily onto the desk. She didn't have the strength to hold it up anymore, her body feeling like it had been wrung out and then filled with something entirely new.

For a few moments, she just lay there, her body pulsing with the aftermath of what had just transpired. The coldness of the desk against her skin was a stark contrast to the warmth that still lingered between her legs. She could feel the stickiness of their combined juices, and the scent of sex hung heavily in the air. It was a scent that was both alien and thrillingly intimate, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.

Mr. Bang stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. He bent down, his hands gently but firmly grabbing her hips and turning her over. She gasped at the sudden movement, her legs still unsteady from the intensity of her climax. He knelt down, his hands running over her bare skin as he wiped her clean with a warm cloth. The sensation was almost too much to bear, her pussy feeling overly sensitive. She winced at the slight pain but couldn't deny the way his tender ministrations sent a new wave of desire through her body.

Once he was satisfied, he stood up and zipped her skirt back up, the sound seeming overly loud in the quiet office. He handed her a clean shirt, his smirk never fading. "Wear this," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. She took it, her eyes still glazed over with lust. She hadn't realized just how much she'd enjoyed the encounter until now.

As she pulled on the shirt, Mr. Bang took a moment to appreciate the view of her half-dressed form. The sight of her bare, reddened skin, the way her chest heaved with each breath, was enough to make him want to take her again. But he knew better than to push his luck. For now. He watched her with a hunger in his eyes that she couldn't miss, and she felt a thrill knowing she had that power over him.

When she had herself covered, Mr. Bang stepped closer, his hand wrapping around her waist. He pulled her into him, his grip firm but gentle, and leaned down to kiss her deeply. His tongue sought hers, his teeth grazing her bottom lip in a possessive bite that sent a shiver through her. She moaned into his mouth, unable to resist the pull of his dominance. He tasted of mint and power, a heady combination that made her knees weak.

"Same time next week," he murmured against her lips, the promise in his eyes unmistakable. She nodded, her heart racing as she felt his smirk press into her cheek. This was a game she hadn't expected to play, but now that she had tasted the thrill of it, she was hooked. He released her, his hand lingering for a moment before dropping away.

Y/N stumbled out of Mr. Bang's office, her legs still wobbly from the intense encounter. The cold slap to her ass echoed down the hallway, and she couldn't help but let out a cheeky yelp. The sound of his deep, satisfied chuckle followed her out, sending another wave of heat through her body. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, his silhouette framed by the light from his desk lamp, and she felt a strange sense of pride. He had claimed her, marked her, and she had liked it.

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[random-thot-generator]

Ghost decides after one blind date that you're going to be his.

>>>>>

Simon isn't used to dating. A quick hook up in the loo, sure. A drunken one night stand? He's had too many of those to count. But proper courting? Hell, it's been years, maybe a decade, since he's taken a bird out on an actual date.

It's probably going to be a disaster, but he gave Johnny his word he'd go out with his bird's best friend, so he can't back out now. He'll just have to grit his teeth and power through it.

His sour outlook for the evening is forgotten the second he sees you walk in with Johnny's bird. You're no tipsy tart on the pull, like the birds he's used to dealing with. You're a proper lady, dolled up nice for your date with him. It makes his chest feel tight when he gets a good look at your pretty face and nervous little smile.

His usual gruff manner is obviously not going to fly with you, so he quickly tries to recall the mannerisms he's seen his captain use around women. He gets to his feet with Johnny when the two of you reach the table, trying his best to look less intimidating.

Johnny introduces the two of you, and Simon melts inside when he takes your soft little hand in his for the first time. His brain goes fuzzy, dark eyes glazing over, and he's not sure what he says when he greets you, but it earns him a smile.

"It's really nice to meet you, Simon," are the first words you say to him.

Your voice is soft and sweet, and the way you say his name? Oh, he's gonna need to hear more of that, and often.

For the first time in a long time, Simon's worried about what someone thinks of him. He's worried he'll put you off with his harsh manner. So, he minds his words and gentles his tone. He slows his steps to match your pace and tucks your small hand at his elbow to keep you close and safe. He's holding doors and pulling out your chair. He compliments your dress and hair.

And when your heel catches on the sidewalk and you stumble, he doesn't bark a laugh or say something mean, wouldn't bloody dream of it. No, he catches you before you fall, and all that softness in his hands makes something shift in his brain. You're such a fragile little thing, delicate as spun sugar. You need a big nasty mutt like him to protect you, take care of you, and he's more than willing to do the job.

When the date is over, Simon sees you home, and you kiss him on your front stoop. It's not all groping hands and tangling tongues. It's a gentle press of lips, his big hands cradling your face, the sweet intimacy making his eyes flutter shut. He's floating when he finally gets back in his truck and drives himself home.

Instead of going to bed, Simon begins to formulate a plan of strategy. He figures it'll take a few more dates before you invite him into your flat, and several more after that before you invite him into your bed, then eventually into your life. It might take months, even a year or more. That's alright, though. If his years in the military have taught him anything, it's patience.

Simon knows how to play the long game. He'll go at your pace, let you get used to having him around, then make himself indispensable to you. No one will treat you as good, meet your every need and desire the way he will. He won't stop until he is your world, your reason for being. Your everything.

And when enough time has passed, he'll claim you completely as his. He's going to put a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly, then tuck you away safe and sound in one of those cute country cottages he looked up online. You'll be his little missus, and he'll be your tamed beast, keeping his teeth and claws hidden but at the ready.

By the time he arrives at your flat the next evening for your second date, he's already got your engagement ring in his safe at home and the names of your future children picked out.

And when you text him the day after to invite him for dinner, the new name he replaced yours with pops up on his screen.

It says 'Missus Riley', of course.

-

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Things That May Be Causing Your Writer's Block- and How to Beat Them

I don't like the term 'Writer's Block' - not because it isn't real, but because the term is so vague that it's useless. Hundreds of issues all get lumped together under this one umbrella, making writer's block seem like this all-powerful boogeyman that's impossible to beat. Worse yet, it leaves people giving and receiving advice that is completely ineffective because people often don't realize they're talking about entirely different issues.

In my experience, the key to beating writer's block is figuring out what the block even is, so I put together a list of Actual Reasons why you may be struggling to write:

(note that any case of writer's block is usually a mix of two or more)

Perfectionism (most common)

What it looks like:

You write one sentence and spend the next hour googling "synonyms for ___"

Write. Erase. Write. Rewrite. Erase.

Should I even start writing this scene when I haven't figured out this one specific detail yet?

I hate everything I write

Cringing while writing

My first draft must be perfect, or else I'm a terrible writer

Things that can help:

Give yourself permission to suck

Keep in mind that nothing you write is going to be perfect, especially your first draft

Think of writing your first/early drafts not as writing, but sketching out a loose foundation to build upon later

People write multiple drafts for a reason: write now, edit later

Stop googling synonyms and save that for editing

Write with a pen to reduce temptation to erase

Embrace leaving blank spaces in your writing when you can't think of the right word, name, or detail

It's okay if your writing sucks. We all suck at some point. Embrace the growth mindset, and focus on getting words on a page

Lack of inspiration (easiest to fix)

What it looks like:

Head empty, no ideas

What do I even write about???

I don't have a plot, I just have an image

Want to write but no story to write

Things that can help:

Google writing prompts

If writing prompts aren't your thing, instead try thinking about what kind of tropes/genres/story elements you would like to try out

Instead of thinking about the story you would like to write, think about the story you would like to read, and write that

It's okay if you don't have a fully fleshed out story idea. Even if it's just an image or a line of dialogue, it's okay to write that. A story may or may not come out of it, but at least you got the creative juices flowing

Stop writing. Step away from your desk and let yourself naturally get inspired. Go for a walk, read a book, travel, play video games, research history, etc. Don't force ideas, but do open up your mind to them

If you're like me, world-building may come more naturally than plotting. Design the world first and let the story come later

Boredom/Understimulation (lost the flow)

What it looks like:

I know I should be writing but uugggghhhh I just can'tttttt

Writing words feels like pulling teeth

I started writing, but then I got bored/distracted

I enjoy the idea of writing, but the actual process makes me want to throw my laptop out the window

Things that can help:

Introduce stimulation: snacks, beverages, gum, music such as lo-fi, blankets, decorate your writing space, get a clickity-clackity keyboard, etc.

Add variety: write in a new location, try a new idea/different story for a day or so, switch up how you write (pen and paper vs. computer) or try voice recording or speech-to-text

Gamify writing: create an arbitrary challenge, such as trying to see how many words you can write in a set time and try to beat your high score

Find a writing buddy or join a writer's group

Give yourself a reward for every writing milestone, even if it's just writing a paragraph

Ask yourself whether this project you're working on is something you really want to be doing, and be honest with your answer

Intimidation/Procrastination (often related to perfectionism, but not always)

What it looks like:

I was feeling really motivated to write, but then I opened my laptop

I don't even know where to start

I love writing, but I can never seem to get started

I'll write tomorrow. I mean next week. Next month? Next month, I swear (doesn't write next month)

Can't find the time or energy

Unreasonable expectations (I should be able to write 10,000 words a day, right????)

Feeling discouraged and wondering why I'm even trying

Things that can help:

Follow the 2 min rule (or the 1 paragraph rule, which works better for me): whenever you sit down to write, tell yourself that you are only going to write for 2 minutes. If you feel like continuing once the 2 mins are up, go for it! Otherwise, stop. Force yourself to start but DO NOT force yourself to continue unless you feel like it. The more often you do this, the easier it will be to get started

Make getting started as easy as possible (i.e. minimize barriers: if getting up to get a notebook is stopping you from getting started, then write in the notes app of your phone)

Commit to a routine that will work for you. Baby steps are important here. Go with something that feels reasonable: every day, every other day, once a week, twice a week, and use cues to help you remember to start. If you chose a set time to write, just make sure that it's a time that feels natural to you- i.e. don't force yourself to writing at 9am every morning if you're not a morning person

Find a friend or a writing buddy you can trust and talk it out or share a piece of work you're proud of. Sometimes we just get a bit bogged down by criticism- either internal or external- and need a few words of encouragement

The Problem's Not You, It's Your Story (or Outline (or Process))

What it looks like:

I have no problems writing other scenes, it's just this scene

I started writing, but now I have no idea where I'm going

I don't think I'm doing this right

What's an outline?

Drowning in documents

This. Doesn't. Make. Sense. How do I get from this plot point to this one?!?!?! (this ColeyDoesThings quote lives in my head rent free cause BOY have I been there)

Things That Can Help:

Go back to the drawing board. Really try to get at the root of why a scene or story isn't working

A part of growing as a writer is learning when to kill your darlings. Sometimes you're trying to force an idea or scene that just doesn't work and you need to let it go

If you don't have an outline, write one

If you have an outline and it isn't working, rewrite it, or look up different ways to structure it

You may be trying to write as a pantser when you're really a plotter or vice versa. Experiment with different writing processes and see what feels most natural

Study story structures, starting with the three act structure. Even if you don't use them, you should know them

Check out Ellen Brock on YouTube. She's a professional novel editor who has a lot of advice on writing strategies for different types of writers

Also check out Savage Books on YouTube (another professional story editor) for advice on story structure and dialogue. Seriously, I cannot recommend this guy enough

Executive Dysfunction, Usually From ADHD/Autism

What it looks like:

Everything in boredom/understimulation

Everything in intimidation/procrastination

You have been diagnosed with and/or have symptoms of ADHD/Autism

Things that can help:

If you haven't already, seek a diagnosis or professional treatment

Hire an ADHD coach or other specialist that can help you work with your brain (I use Shimmer; feel free to DM me for a referral)

Seek out neurodiverse communities for advice and support

Try body doubling! There's lot's of free online body doubling websites out there for you to try. If social anxiety is a barrier, start out with writing streams such as katecavanaughwrites on Twitch

Be aware of any sensory barriers that may be getting in the way of you writing (such as an uncomfortable desk chair, harsh lighting, bad sounds)

And Lastly, Burnout, Depression, or Other Mental Illness

What it looks like:

You have symptoms of burnout or depression

Struggling with all things, not just writing

It's more than a lack of inspiration- the spark is just dead

Things that can help:

Forget writing for now. Focus on healing first.

Seek professional help

If you feel like it, use writing as a way to explore your feelings. It can take the form of journaling, poetry, an abstract reflection of your thoughts, narrative essays, or exploring what you're feeling through your fictional characters. The last two helped me rediscover my love of writing after I thought years of depression had killed it for good. Just don't force yourself to do so, and stop if it takes you to a darker place instead of feeling cathartic

[xinganhao]

🫶 svt reacts to you saying 'i love you' on accident.

★ prompt: Ot13 reaction to you saying I love you for the first time (possibly kind of by accident) 🥰 c/o anon

ⓘ friends to lovers vibes, flirting, pet names. headcanons under the cut.

🫶 read more?

seungcheol tries to take it in stride. really, he does. he's convinced he can be very normal about this, even though it will probably have him preening the whole day. he's always thrived most on words of affirmation, and what's more affirming than the truth?

jeonghan's joking, of course. he knows deep down that your little slip doesn't immediately entail a relationship, but he's definitely intent on going out swinging. the light teasing is an attempt to get you to think about a time where you can freely say 'i love you' to him every day.

there's a fair amount of sincerity in joshua's reaction. his first thought is to make sure that you're okay with it, since he has some idea that you've probably tripped on the words. but give him that leeway and he'll take it in a heartbeat. you've started saying it; he'll never let you hear the end of it.

if junhui manages to feign nonchalance, it's because of his acting prowess. he's smug and giddy, though he's not about to let you know that. he's the type to pull the rug underneath you a couple of days later, right when you've probably forgotten it. "so…" he'll drawl. "how much do you love me, hm?"

to no one's surprise, soonyoung is decisively not chill about it. this is A Big Deal to him! an 'i love you'? something he's wanted to hear for ages? he needs to make sure he's not dreaming. there's the dopiest smile on his face, because you love him. it's the best thing he's heard.

wonwoo's hands are shaking. his throat is suddenly dry, and he's relatively sure his brain has short-circuited. it's— just an offhand thing. at least that's what he tries to convince himself. the reality: he's going to be replaying the words in his head for weeks on end.

it doesn't strike jihoon immediately. maybe it hits him once you're gone; maybe it occurs to him when the moment has already passed. one thing's for sure: he's not going to let it go unanswered. he's a little late, not on time, but that doesn't mean he doesn't mean it. you know that, right?

the words make something bloom and blossom in seokmin's chest. they take root like a promise, and even though he tries not to get ahead of itself, it's hard. he's so, so happy to hear it from you that he'll be walking on clouds for the days to come.

mingyu doesn't hate you. that much is certain. he just hates the power you have over him— how you can upend his entire day with a couple of choice words. he had thought he'd be stronger than this, but here he is. panicking because of 'ily'? god, he can't afford to be in shambles like this.

ever the rational type, minghao will be the type to press, "how do you love me?" he can't afford any missteps, needs to know you're on the same page. if you love him as a friend, then so be it. but if there's a prospect for anything more, even just a minute worth of it… well. he would like to know.

joking about it is a coping mechanism. that's something seungkwan subscribes to, at the very least. it gives him time to gather his wits, this whole keeping-up-a-facade thing. (ask anyone: he had been smiling a little too hard at his phone when your text came in. the eyes never lie.)

rarely is vernon thrown off his game like this. he's not supposed to be melting over a flippant 'ily', and yet here he is— trying (and failing) to be cool about your slip-up. can you blame him? he's wanted you for so long, and the words can be as good as a promise if he really wanted them to be.

you're not playing fair. chan has half a mind to make you suffer, to not give you the satisfaction of a reaction. alas, he's always had a soft spot for you. that extends to unquestioning forgiveness, and reciprocity where it matters. yes, even in accidental confessions.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[midnite-c6]

ive been thinking of a scenario where namgyu’sgf!reader has been secretly hooking up with thanos as pay back for namgyu being a shitty boyfriend.. makes me die😩

meow so hot bruh thanos is so sexy it makes me so sad 😿 NEED THAT! pt. 2 | pt. 3

thanos(choi su-bong) x nam-gyu'sgf!reader imagine!! <33

warnings: 18+, cheating

you, nam-gyu, and su-bong were truly a powerful trio, you guys were all tight-woven friends being stringed together of partying and drugs before you decided to start dating nam-gyu, nothing changed much, but it was weird to know what was once your homie is now someone you fuck on the daily.

sadly, now nam-gyu just sucks, as a boyfriend, and as a person in general. he doesn't even take the time of his day to touch or even kiss you! ignoring all your texts with an "i'm busy." was stupid! he was stupid! what was he doing in the club anyway?? was he banging another chick?? why shouldn't you do the same?

you'd go visit his club in search of your boyfriend, only running into su-bong, or thanos as he's known for. "señorita?" oh that nick-name you were so familiar of. you'd think su-bong would still be out of the country, since he's gotten that big rap battle overseas, or because he's trying to escape his debt but you're still pleased to see run into him. "su-bong!, damn it, have you seen nam-gyu?" he pouted dramatically "i haven't seen you in weeks and ya' immediately talk about your boyfriend? whore." the last word was mumbled under his breath. you roll your eyes, you were used to giving and getting mean nicknames anyway, "fuck you, i heard that! but.. c'mon, have you??" "of course not, i just got here, angel, why are you looking for him?" you sigh. "because he's my boyfriend. what else?" thanos just remained looking at you, as if telling you to spill more. ".. and i think he's fucking another girl." he gasps, as a sarcastic reaction, "whaaat? no way, who would've thought." you furrow your brows. "what?! you know about this??" he shakes his head, chuckling to himself "nah. but he's a man, and the same pussy gets old after some time." he said, like it was a matter-of-fact thing that you should know.

"oh that jerk, i'm gonna fucking kill hi-" thanos pulls you back to him. "don't blame the guy, it's just normal boy stuff, you get it, right?" you scoff, "no. plus, my pussy doesn't just ... "get old!" " he tilts his head, "ehhhh. you've been dating for like what, 1 year? even i'll get pretty tired of it." you groaned. "i didn't ask you, su-bong. i know he's... he's better than that." he places a hand on the back of your neck, lightly petting you. "mmmm, if you think about it, if he's fucking another girl, how does it make you feel, babe?" you don't think, you respond immediately. "angry! that's what." "...and?" "it makes me want to ..i dunno. do something."

"guess you're in luck that i came here then."

"huh?" and before you know it, you're being dragged to one of the VIP rooms..

nsfw below!!->

"fuck.. man, all that days of fucking and god, he hasn't even stretched this cunt." he says as he guides your hips in a speedened pace, being kind enough to push his hips up to the rhythm of yours, he'd moan out from how you were clenching him. "p-please.."

"you're so tight, shit." in these moments, you'd forget about your shitty boyfriend, how you're cheating on nam-gyu inside his very own club. thanos pulls out before the two of you could ever release, making you go on your knees as he lines up his dick right inside your mouth. you could see him grabbing his phone and facing it above you, a red light near the camera. the video captured your muffled, disgusting moans against his dick, you seemed challenged, it seemed like you were trying to prove you were still good at it. it could also capture su-bong's praises, ones you could barely hear.

"you're doing so goood.."

"how could anyone ever get tired of this cunt?."

"you should look at yourself right now, baby."

and after all that, he'd place you on his lap, it wasn't much of an aftercare, but it was good enough.

"you enjoyed it? yeah?" you nod. "i just .. hope he doesn't find out..hmph.." "yeah, yeah, he's my best friend, can't let that happen." you smiled from the assurance, resting your head on su-bong's shoulders. you were too fucked out to hear how he was tapping the send button on his phone, sending his good ol' homie the video of you sucking his cock, typing away to send the text 'got your fine shyt sucking me off bro, what happened?', they're both jerks, guess the both of them really can't care less about you and your feelings huhu :<

also dat pussy is power 🙏🏻 this is so mean to namgyu but at rhe same time the prompt is so hot. hehe.

[muniimyg]

♡ 04: how you're lookin' at me, yeah, i know what that means and i'm obsessed

series m.list // taglist

note: a wild ride…. good luck y’all ,, THANKS FOR 1K 😻 my kitty is happy !!! hauwhahahahaa this part is lengthy so pls take a mfking SEAT. pls lmk what y’all think ,, send in asks �� we’re headed towards the finale 💛 much wuv !!

warnings: tension/tampo vibes (whats that in english? lol) ,, male masturbation (jk gets himself off as he recalls oc slapping him) ,, jealousy (lots of it. like 90% of this part is filled with it) ,, oc has a hickey ,, angst ,, and a little mwaamwaaaa moment :')

//

life sucks. 

for jungkook, at least. 

it’s been almost a month since the incident, and you’ve done everything in your power to avoid him.

the memory of the fight—the words exchanged, the way he said your name—still lingers in the air between you like smoke, suffocating and inescapable.

at first, jungkook tried.

he texted you the next day and every day after that. his messages were hesitant and apologetic... and each one was left unanswered.

nerd [11:11PM]: ___, can we talk? sent nerd [11:28PM]: please? sent nerd [12:01AM]: i’m sorry. i mean it. sent nerd [12:03AM]: it wasn’t even like that. not with her.  sent nerd [1:09AM]: ik i’m gonna sound like a total douche no matter what so let me do it please sent nerd [1:15AM]: let me say sorry, let me fuck up, let me make it up to u sent nerd [2:01AM]: i really hate begging  sent nerd [2:01AM]: but i really hate u not wanting me even more seen

he did try to call though.

just once.

the ringtone barely lasted before he hung up, realizing how futile it was.

at one point, he showed up at your favorite coffee shop one afternoon. he sat alone by the window with an untouched drink, waiting. 

his eyes flicked to the door every time it opened, a glimmer of hope lighting his expression for a split second before fading when it wasn’t you.

after two hours, he left.

but now, almost four weeks later, jungkook has stopped trying (so hard).

it wasn’t a sudden decision, more of a gradual acceptance that whatever connection you’d shared—whatever you’d been to each other—was slipping through his fingers.

he told himself you needed time, that maybe this space was what you wanted, what you deserved. and so, he gave it to you.

he told himself it wasn’t the end. 

it couldn’t be.

he refuses for it to be. 

this is just… complicated. 

he gets that.

he's a smart guy after all!

but late at night, when the world was quiet and he was left alone with his thoughts, the weight of your absence pressed against his chest like an ache he couldn’t soothe. it... burns? it throbs in this aching rhythm that he can't quite figure the melody to.

jungkook thinks about the way you banter with him and how much it makes his day. how closely you sit next to him. how effortlessly you mesmerize him… 

how you flirted with him for a few days and now he's malfunctioning. how he spent the last month memorizing every detail of those days and can't get over it. he has convinced himself you're into him...  

like, remember how your fingers would brush his when you handed him something? that meant something, right? or how about the way you looked at him and tilted your head? shit, yeah.

that meant something.

fuck, the way you laugh and throw your head back and he gets a glance at your perfect neck—how he wants to leave kisses on it. how he… 

how he had you. 

for a moment, he really had you. 

under him, tangled, and messy. 

how he was so close to your lips. 

he should’ve kissed you. 

he should’ve locked the fucking door. 

he should’ve ran after you even more. 

but he didn’t…

and now? 

now you aren’t even around. 

he recalls what taehyung said to him night at the arcade. taehyung's words rub into his wound like salt. it stings. it makes him feel sick to his stomach and he just... get can't stomach it.

“she isn't gonna stick around forever... especially with all the shit you pull…”

there are no words to describe how incredibly helpless he feels.

if anything, he goes through circles in his mind; completely in disbelief he could fuck up this bad with you.

he hates that he can't think straight. he hates that he can't study properly. he hates that he stopped tutoring and even got in trouble with his profs for letting them down (they really counted on jungkook to help other students out).

he hates that he can't fucking breathe lately.

he can't sleep.

he can't eat.

jungkook hates the growing distance, but more than that, he hates how much it hurts.

he hates how much he wants to fix things even when he doesn’t know how. he just knows he wants to. god, fuck it—

fine. 

he hates how much he misses you.

but most of all, he hates that he was wrong. 

it was entirely his fault. 

jungkook hates it all.

by chance, you and jungkook run into each other. 

the scene is perfect.

it's the perfect set up to cry over when you get home—that is.

the rain starts just as you’re leaving the library, soft at first but quickly turning heavier. you don’t expect to see him—not here, not now—but there he is, standing under the awning of the café across the street, shaking out his umbrella. the door chimes as you step outside, and he looks up.

for a moment, neither of you move, caught in the heavy stillness of the moment.

jungkook freezes when he sees you. 

his eyes widen briefly, then soften into something cautious, hesitant. he tucks his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, fingers flexing nervously against the fabric as he steps forward.

“hey,” he says, his voice careful, like he’s offering a truce.

the sound of him makes your heart clench, the warmth in his tone threatening to undo you. but you don’t let it show. you nod once, lips pressed into a thin line, and move to step around him.

“wait—” his hand shoots out, not to grab you, just to stop you. his fingers hover midair, unsure if he even has the right to reach for you anymore. “___, please?”

the rain is falling harder now, pooling on the sidewalk and soaking into the edges of your shoes. you glance at him, taking in the way his hair clings to his forehead, the way his hoodie looks just a little too big on him, like he hasn’t been sleeping well or eating much.

“can you not pretend like this is a coincidence?” you ask quietly, refusing to meet his gaze. 

he stays silent. 

it wasn’t. 

truth be told, he’s been waiting outside for almost 45 minutes. he didn’t even know if you were at the library today… he just had to wait and find out for himself. 

"do you have an umbrella?" he asks, breaking the silence. 

"what—"

"here." 

he cuts you off, pushing the umbrella toward you.

you blink, startled, as he places the handle firmly in your hand. your fingers wrap around it instinctively, the metal cool against your palm.

"jungkook—" you start, your voice faltering.

he shakes his head, stepping back into the rain without a word. the downpour hits him almost instantly, soaking through his hoodie as he shoves his hands into his pockets and starts walking away.

you stand there, the umbrella trembling in your grip, watching him go. the rain comes down harder, cascading off the awning above you, but you barely notice. your gaze stays locked on him—on the way his shoulders hunch against the storm, on the slow but steady steps that carry him farther and farther away.

something tightens in your chest. 

maybe it’s regret or maybe longing… but as his figure grows smaller and the storm swallows him—you feel it.

the warmth of his lingering presence and the chill of it all—

—of your favourite almost.

a few days later, jungkook finds his umbrella in his bedroom. 

he takes out his phone to send you a text, prepared to humiliate himself and to beg for a second of your attention. he’d trade all tonight’s focus for a moment of you.

just as he picks the umbrella up, he finds a note. 

___ told me to give it back to you. she says thanks (whore). ps: she said don’t text her. — taehyung

jungkook sighs. 

does he listen? 

obviously not. 

nerd [6:19PM]: don’t tell me what to do  nerd [6:20PM]: i hate this nerd [6:21PM]: u should’ve jus kept the umbrella. giving it back to taehyung and telling him to tell me not to text u is sick.  seen. nerd [6:22PM]: reply pls seen.  nerd [6:26PM]: fine. i’ll jus talk to myself  nerd [6:31PM]: i miss u sm i jerked off the other night thinking abt the way u slapped me  seen nerd [6:33PM]: come on, kitty  nerd [6:34PM]: promise to think abt me tn :(  nerd [6:35PM]: cos i’m gonna think abt u tn nerd [6:36PM]: ignore me if u want proof  typing…  nerd [6:37PM]: kitty? seen nerd [6:40PM]: fuck. nerd [6:41PM]: how do u get me so fucking hard thru text? maybe i jus miss u too much  nerd [6:42PM]: excited for my proof?  seen nerd [6:45PM]: ft?  seen nerd [6:46PM]: keep seenzoning me and i’ll cum typing... seen ___ has notifications silenced

but it's too late.

jungkook meant it.

he's sat on his gaming chair, cock heavy.

his phone is out with that group picture from the arcade (zoomed into you) as lewd thoughts of you fill his mind. jungkook runs his thumb across his tip, hissing at the way it feels over his slit. 

he flicks his wrists, gripping his dick with just enough pressure to grow the hardness. it’s already stiff and he can feel the need to cum—but he just can’t.

he can’t without thinking of you. 

so, his eyes flutter shut as his memories of you replay in his mind. 

from the way your lips winced when he ate you out—to the way that mini skirt looked on you that day. he thinks about the way you say his name; in any and every way. angry, teasingly, and desperately… he thinks about how pretty it sounds rolling off your tongue. 

how pretty you looked under him.

how good you smelt when he kissed your neck. 

how close you sat next to him—fingertips lingering... god, what he would do to be close to you again. 

jungkook thinks about the slap. 

how hard your palms hit his cheek and how angry you looked at him. despite the negativity surrounding the situation—he can’t help it. 

you looked so hot. 

it just… gets to him. 

before he knows it, his hand is covered in his sticky cum. 

he’s a loser—a nerd in your words. 

he always has been… and here he is; jerking himself off to the pretty girl he lost his chance with.

the night is supposed to be nothing special. 

for jungkook, it’s just another event for his precious marine conservation club—a fundraiser, a schmooze-fest for potential investors, and a chance to hand out awards to appease the donors. sure, he’s getting an award, but it doesn’t feel like much.

the room buzzes with polite conversation and clinking glasses. jungkook adjusts his tie for the hundredth time, barely paying attention to the speeches and presentations. he stands off to the side with the other club members, blending into the background until his name is called.

“jeon jungkook, for outstanding contributions to marine conservation and innovation. mr. jeon has been working towards innovative chemical solutions for marine conservation, focusing on sustainable practices to protect endangered species like dolphins, and developing eco-friendly alternatives to reduce their environmental impact.”

the applause is polite but hearty.

jungkook steps onto the stage, the spotlight hitting him square in the face. as he accepts the plaque, his gaze instinctively sweeps over the audience—and then it stops.

you’re here.

sitting with the guys, casually chatting like you belong there, like you haven’t been avoiding him for a month and a half (at this point).

his heart trips over itself. 

he’s not even sure if it’s relief or panic or something else entirely, but it rattles him. he forces his attention back to the microphone, holding the plaque in his slightly sweaty hands.

“uh, thank you,” he begins, his voice steady enough, though his pulse is anything but. “our club’s mission has always been to protect and preserve marine life through education, community projects, and outreach. with this award…”

his eyes flick back to you. 

you’re laughing at something taehyung just said, your smile bright, your whole demeanor light and carefree.

“…we want to focus on…”

he falters, the words slipping from his mind as his gaze lingers on you.

“…we want to focus on… f-focus…”

a ripple of laughter spreads through the audience. someone whistles playfully. he blinks, startled back into the moment.

“…focus on sustainable practices and expanding our projects,” he finishes, clearing his throat as heat rises to his cheeks.

you’re laughing too, your head tilted slightly as you join the others. it should make him feel worse, but somehow, seeing you like that—smiling, present—grounds him.

he powers through the rest of the speech, keeping his gaze firmly away from where you’re sitting. when it’s over, he accepts the handshake from the host and makes his way offstage, barely registering the applause.

as soon as the ceremony ends, jungkook doesn’t even think. 

he weaves through the crowd, ignoring congratulatory pats on the back and comments from investors, his eyes scanning for you.

how did you know about tonight?

wait. 

shit.

he’s been texting you every day with random ass updates. of course you know. he’s yapped about it… but why? why did you come? don’t you hate his guts?

you're here so... maybe you don't hate him as much as he has convinced himself you do.

jungkook finds you near the back with the friend group, holding a glass of champagne and listening to hoseok animatedly retell a story.

“congratulations,” you say lightly, lifting your glass in a mock toast. your words are casual, but there's an edge to them, a distance you've kept between the two of you for far too long.

his chest tightens at the awkwardness of your tone, but he nods, his hands slipping into his pockets. the space between you feels impossibly wide now, though only a few feet separate you.

“thanks,” he says, his voice quieter than he intended. “... thanks for coming.”

his gaze flickers to yours for a second before dropping to the floor, and he shifts, a little uncertain, taking a half-step closer.

hesitantly, you inch back. 

his presence is suddenly overwhelming, more than you’re ready for.

“yeah… of course,” you murmur, unsure how to navigate the new dynamic between you two. the tension is thick, but there's something else there too. an unspoken history. “what are friends for, you know?”

he hates that. 

friends. 

yeah fucking right.

jungkook tries to break the tension.

he takes a risk.

he takes a small step forward, hoping you don’t move. this is the closest he’s gotten to you in over a month—he needs this. it’s like euphoria in his veins—being with you again.

he needs this.

“how have you been?” he asks, the question coming out softer than he anticipated. jungkook scratches the back of his neck and continues. “a-are you coming to the afterparty?”

your lips part, a pause hanging between you.

you don’t want to admit how much you’ve missed this. how much you’ve missed him.

but the words slip out, more natural than you expect.

“yeah,” you say, giving him a brief but warm look. “i’ll be there.”

for a moment, your eyes lock, and something shifts. 

it’s like you’ve both forgotten all the walls, the space between you collapsing. he can feel his heart rate quicken, like his knees might give out, but he forces himself to stay grounded, to act nonchalant.

“cool,” he says, trying to brush off the sudden rush of emotions. “i’ll.. i’ll be there too.” he smiles, but it’s the kind of smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes—not yet, anyway.

“i sure hope so,” you laugh. “it’s your party, nerd.”

nerd. 

holy shit. 

never has he ever felt so relieved to hear you call him that. 

as he’s about to say more, taehyung appears out of nowhere, slapping his arm and giving him a congratulatory squeeze. 

“hey, man, nice speech. well deserved,” taehyung says, grinning like an idiot. “what did you want to focus on, again?”

you laugh while jungkook rolls his eyes. he shoves taehyung playfully. 

suddenly, you can’t help but feel the awkwardness settle back in, like something’s shifted again. you feel a pang in your chest as you turn toward the other people nearby, the ones you've been socializing with before jungkook showed up. the buzz of the conversation pulls you away, and you focus on the group, hoping to escape the overwhelming emotions that jungkook’s presence stirs.

jungkook watches you go, his eyes lingering as you slip away from the conversation. 

he can’t help it. 

you’re in his head again.

he looks over at taehyung, catching his eye. 

“hyung, is she coming to the dinner before the afterparty?” he asks, trying to sound casual. his voice betrays him, cracking with just the faintest hint of hope.

taehyung raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of his drink. 

“yeah. excited?”

“no.”

taehyung scoffs. “say that again but take away the lying.”

“fuck off.”

“___’s a good friend, man,” taehyung chuckles, redirecting the conversation. “you’re lucky. you just might be back in her good graces.”

jungkook’s heart skips a beat. 

“really?” he asks, trying not to sound too eager.

taehyung grins, leaning in a little. 

“yeah, but... she’s bringing her little boyfriend with her.”

you’re doing what?

jungkook feels the need to rub his eyes or something.

was taehyung shitting on him? boyfriend? when did this happen? no fucking way. 

jungkook refuses to believe it. 

… yet, the words hit jungkook like a punch to the gut. his breath catches, and his stomach tightens. 

"what?" his voice is barely a whisper, the weight of it settling in. 

"she didn't tell you?"

"we haven't been talking."

"rightfully so."

fuck. 

no. 

he doesn’t want to believe it, but the hurt is already seeping through.

taehyung shrugs, oblivious to the internal storm brewing in jungkook. 

“shit, well... yeah, she’s been seeing him for a while. dunno if they’re officially together, but… guess she’s really moving on. good for her, right? i mean, now you can really focus on just being her friend.”

the air stills. 

the reality of it all comes crashing down. jungkook’s heart sinks, his chest tightening in that all-too-familiar ache. 

that's why you’ve been busy... 

you’ve been moving on.

his fingers curl into fists, the anger bubbling up before he can suppress it. but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let his emotions spill out in front of taehyung, even though every part of him is screaming. 

“yeah,” he forces a smile. “i guess.”

as the night goes on, jungkook can’t shake the feeling that he’s lost something he can’t get back. something that’s slipping further away with every step you take, every laugh you share with someone else. and no matter how much he wants to fight for it, he’s afraid it’s already too late.

jungkook doesn’t want to go to dinner anymore.

he has no appetite.

jungkook is already at the dinner when you arrive. 

his mood is off, grumpy but with an undercurrent of sadness that he can’t quite shake. he’s forcing a smile when people congratulate him for the award, but it’s clear it’s not reaching his eyes. the night’s just been a blur of congratulations and polite smiles, but all he can think about who will walk in with you. 

does he know him?

is he gonna be some super cool prince charming?

does he know that jungkook was eating you out just a month ago? 

all valid questions…

however, you arrive a little late, and immediately his gaze searches for you in the crowd. when he sees you, his heart lurches. he spots you talking to someone, and the knot in his stomach tightens.

you make your way to the table, your eyes scanning it before you stop. for a moment, you aren’t sure where to sit. usually, you sit next to jungkook… but the spot is occupied by jimin. 

not by choice.

jungkook had saved the spot for you… you just came too late and he didn’t have it in him to tell jimin to move. but, jimin catches the milli-second exchanged look you have with jungkook and immediately shifts. 

“oh,” jimin begins. “shit, i forgot… didn’t know you were gonna show up so late—”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “it’s fine we’re gonna sit on the other side! by the way,” you pause and push the guy you came with forward. “this is do-hwan. he’s a biochem major and we have a few electives together… um, what else?” 

biochem?

serisouly?

do you have a thing for nerds or something? bro doesn't even look the part. he should be majoring in physics or something even more lame.

jungkook's thoughts cut short when he hears you giggling.

“hi,” do-hwan says with a grins at everyone. then, he turns and extends his hand to jungkook. “jungkook? shit, man. congrats on the award.”

he chuckles, giving jungkook a playful look. “organic chem, huh? i guess someone has to study the pretty side of chemistry.” 

what the fuck does that mean?

jungkook’s ears turn red. 

“yeah,” he grumbles under his breath. “nice to meet you too.”

with that, you and do-hwan make your way to the other side of the table. jungkook watches, his gaze hardening as you take a seat beside him.

he’s trying his best to stay calm and to not show it—not show how absolutely fucking mad this entire thing is.

this is ridiculous! 

his chest tightens painfully at the sight of you sitting with him. his fingers curl into his glass as he watches you laugh and chat with others, inserting do-hwan like you’re some proud girlfriend. 

you've probably known do-hwan like 10 seconds.

and jungkook can’t help it! every word you exchange with do-hwan makes him feel like he’s being crushed from the inside out. 

he’s trying to focus on the conversation happening around him, but his mind keeps wandering, drifting to you.

he watches as you lean in to talk to do-hwan, the way your eyes light up when you laugh at something he says. it’s the same laugh, the same warmth in your smile, but somehow it feels so much farther away from him now—like a memory that he’s trying to hold onto but can’t quite grasp.

he forces himself to look at the group again, but his gaze keeps slipping back to you. every word you exchange with do-hwan makes his chest tighten.

it's like he’s suffocating, and he can’t tear his eyes away. the way he moves so casually, his hand brushing against yours as he reaches for his drink. 

it’s too much.

it’s too familiar.

and then, as you turn your head to respond to someone else, he sees it.

just a flash of it—right there on your neck. 

a small hickey, barely visible, but it might as well be a brand. his heart stops for a beat. the sight burns in his chest, and before he can stop himself, his breath catches in his throat.

his stomach churns violently, a rush of heat flooding his veins. everything feels like it’s collapsing inward. the noise around him fades, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own heartbeat. the world shrinks, and the weight of the jealousy hits him like a truck.

he can’t stay here. 

not like this. 

not with this tightness in his chest, not with the ache in his stomach. the room feels like it’s closing in on him, and he knows—he knows he has to get out.

without a word, he stands abruptly, pushing his chair back. his heart races as he excuses himself from the table, slipping away into the hallway outside the main dining area.

the rest of the table doesn’t seem to notice his sudden departure, but your friends quickly start murmuring, and one of them nudges you. 

"you should probably go check on him," taehyung says, giving you an almost knowing look. “i told you not to bring him.”

you hesitate for a second, then stand, glancing at do-hwan.

“it’s not do-hwan's fault.”

taehyung rolls his eyes at you. 

“you’re playing it kinda mean tonight though,” he tells you. “jungkook’s been miserable. sure he deserves to be dragged through mud for whatever happened and for whatever he said, but this? on his night? i don’t know ___…”

you gulp.

maybe taehyung is right.

but you didn’t intend for it to be like this. you genuinely brought a friend you’ve been spending time with! and, sure… yeah. you’ve been kissing him for a few weeks now, but so what? jungkook has probably been fucking every student he’s been tutoring so why the fuck does this matter?

“___…” taehyung urges you. 

“yeah, yeah… i’m going.” 

you wave taehyung off as you get up from your seat. you excuse yourself and let do-hwan know you’ll be right back.

you find jungkook outside. 

he stands with his back pressed against the cool metal of his car, arms crossed loosely over his chest. you notice that his posture is stiff... like he’s trying to keep himself grounded, but his shoulders still carry the weight of what he’s just seen.

his jaw clenches every so often, like he’s holding something back, but when his muscles tense, it’s almost as if the anger or hurt inside him is too much to contain.

as you walk towards him and he notices you. he runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends, clearly agitated. he lets out a slow, shaky breath, his eyes cast down toward the ground as if trying to collect his thoughts. he shakes his head slightly, as if to shake off the frustration that has settled in his chest, but it doesn’t seem to help. 

then, he looks up at the sky, his gaze distant, unfocused, lost in the swirl of thoughts that seem to chase him in circles. his arms drop to his sides for a moment, his fingers flexing and unflexing like he’s trying to release the tension that has built up in his body.

after a long pause, he lets out a frustrated sigh, raking his hand through his hair again, this time pushing it back as he exhales sharply.

his whole stance is restless.

it’s like he can’t quite settle his thoughts or his body, caught between what he feels and the reality of what’s happening. 

he’s trapped in his own head, unable to escape the weight of the situation.

by now, you’re next to him.

are you here to set him free?

“so… have the dolphins ever thanked you for your hard work?” you ask, trying to break both the silence and tension with your light tone. “you do so much for them… ungrateful little brats—you know they’re psychos right? they bully—”

he doesn’t turn around. 

“what’s on your neck?” he asks. “did your boyfriend do that?”

your chest hurts at his words. “he’s not... he’s not my boyfriend.” you swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “he’s just a friend.”

there’s a long pause, and when he finally turns to face you, his eyes are a mixture of frustration and hurt. 

“the same kind of friend i am to you?”

he’s trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a tremor in his voice.

you shake your head, not knowing how to explain, not knowing how to make him understand.

“you know what? i didn’t come here to make you feel like this…” your voice cracks slightly. “i didn’t... i don’t want to hurt you. i didn’t want to come.”

he scoffs bitterly.

“maybe you shouldn’t have.”

his words sting, but you can’t back down. 

“what do you want me to do?” you ask, frustrated. “if i didn’t show up, you’d be upset and blow up my phone. now that i’m here, you’re still upset—”

“and this is how you chose to show up?” jungkook raises his voice, turning to you. he steps forward, towering over you. he brings his hands to your hair, pushing it back and leaning in to look at your hickey properly. 

he squints. 

“are you proud of this?” he hisses. “fucking bug bite bullshit.”

“stop—” you snap, cutting him off now. “don’t—”

“okay. sorry, fuck..."

a beat.

"___, i miss you,” he breathes. “i just… shit. can you stay still for a second?”

there’s a long silence between you two, the air thick with things unsaid. jungkook looks like he’s about to say something, but his mouth closes, his frustration evident in the way he grits his teeth. 

instead, he just breathes you in. 

for the first time in a month and a half; jungkook can breathe.

then, he steps away and sighs. 

“think i’m gonna head home first. i… i need some space or something,” jungkook tells you. “let them know for me?”

“y-yeah. sure.”

“okay,” jungkook nods. “i’ll see you later.”

“see you.”

for the first time in a while, jungkook offers you a smile and you return it. 

short and sweet—he takes it. 

he leaves and thinks about it the entire drive home.

when you arrive at the party, you’re still reeling from the brief exchange with jungkook. 

your thoughts are completely a tangled mess. 

from the words he didn’t say to the way his eyes held that edge of something unspoken—it all lingers in your mind like an unsolved puzzle. you thought you had it all figured out…

that you could be fine.

that you could move on—but now, after that moment, you’re not so sure anymore. 

your heart races in a way that you can’t explain. why does it feel like you’re standing on the edge of something—something big, something scary—and yet, you're not sure if you want to fall or pull back?

your mind keeps returning to the way he looked at you, like he was caught between wanting to say everything and nothing at all. it’s not a feeling you can shake off easily.

it’s heavier than you thought it would be.

at the party, you try your best to focus on the people around you. do-hwan is by your side, chatting casually with a few people, most of them strangers to you. some faces are familiar—people from jungkook’s marine conservation club, and others... just people. 

you make your rounds, greeting them politely, exchanging pleasantries, but your thoughts are still drifting back to him. to jungkook. the air is thick with anticipation, and no matter how much you try to focus on the conversations happening around you, your mind keeps wandering.

and then, there he is.

jungkook is standing by the drink table, his posture relaxed but not at ease. 

his gaze flicks to you for a moment, a brief flicker of something—maybe surprise, maybe something more—before he meets your eyes. there’s a tense, palpable moment of silence.

he’s holding a red cup in one hand, his fingers wrapped loosely around it. his other hand rests in his pocket, but his stance is still too rigid... too guarded.

it’s like he’s waiting for something to happen, for you to do something.

he doesn’t smile. 

he just nods at you. 

a small, deliberate movement that somehow feels too formal, too distant.

no words.

just acknowledgment.

you feel the knot tighten in your stomach, the nervous energy in your chest quickening. it’s the simplest thing, but it feels loaded with so much more.

you can’t look away. 

something inside you is aching to go over, to close the space between you, to ask if everything’s okay, to say something—but you're frozen. the tension in the air between you is thick enough to suffocate.

you swallow hard, trying to calm the unease building in your chest, but it's no use.

the silence stretches out, heavy and thick, as you stand there, caught between the desire to run or to take a step closer, not sure if you're brave enough for either.

you take a step back, trying to break eye contact, when suddenly, someone bumps into you from behind. you stumble forward, your feet catching on the edge of a rug, and you let out a startled breath as you lose your balance.

before you can fully fall, a strong hand grips your wrist, pulling you back against something solid. your breath catches as you feel the warmth of someone’s body close to you.

it’s jungkook.

without a word, his other hand slides around your waist, steadying you, his fingers briefly pressing against the fabric of your shirt. the contact is brief but grounding, like the world, slows for a moment, just the two of you, suspended in time.

he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t offer the usual reassuring words. 

his grip is firm, and steady, but he doesn’t linger. as quickly as it happens, he pulls away, his hand leaving your waist just as the tension between you starts to build.

you open your mouth to say something, maybe a thank you, but before the words leave your lips, he’s already moving away, stepping back with that familiar, unreadable expression.

you stand there. 

you’re frozen for a beat longer than necessary. your chest tight as you try to catch your breath… his sudden departure stings more than you care to admit. there’s no time for you to process what just happened, what that touch meant—or didn't mean—before he vanishes back into the crowd.

fuck.

the night only gets louder as more people flood into the house. 

the music thrums through the walls, bass-heavy and relentless, blending with the clatter of cups and the hum of overlapping conversations.

you weave through the crowd, the heat of so many bodies pressed together almost suffocating. your heart races—not from the chaos around you but from the weight of the unspoken tension that’s followed you since you walked in.

you couldn’t bring yourself to drink, though do-hwan had handed you a cup earlier. 

it’s long forgotten somewhere, left behind on a table. you’re too afraid of what a single drink might loosen in you—afraid of saying or doing something you’re not ready for.

you don’t want to make worse what already feels so broken.

“hey.” do-hwan’s voice cuts through the noise, his hand resting lightly on your arm. he pulls you aside to a quieter corner of the room, away from the crush of people. “you okay?”

you nod, a small, uncertain smile tugging at your lips. “yeah. just... a little overwhelmed, i guess.”

he watches you closely, his expression softening as if he’s trying to read between the lines. “you sure? you’ve been kind of quiet tonight.”

“i’m fine, really.”

“you don’t have to be,” he says, and it’s the way he says it—gentle, almost understanding—that makes you crack a real smile. “pretty sure jungkook hates me. pretty sure he’s killed me 10 times in his head in the past hour or so… and he knows all the organic chem shit to make it a really clean murder, you know? “

you let out a weak laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

he grins at the sight, his confidence blooming as he leans in closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. 

“there it is,” he says playfully. “i was starting to think you didn’t know how to smile anymore.”

you laugh softly despite yourself, and his grin widens. 

do-hwan then dips his head lower as he talks, his voice dropping slightly, as if the two of you are sharing a secret. it’s intimate in a way that makes your cheeks flush, his proximity unnerving. his eyes flick to yours, and he leans in just a little more.

across the room, jungkook sees everything. 

is it hot in here?

because fuck, he’s burning up.

actually, the entire house is on fire in his mind. 

he’s been watching you for most of the night, though he pretends not to be.

the way do-hwan hovers near you, the way you laugh at something he says—it feels like a punch to the chest. every small interaction between you two is a reminder of what he’s lost, of what he could’ve had if he’d been braver, better.

his grip on his cup tightens, his knuckles white against the red plastic. he can’t hear what you’re saying, but he doesn’t need to. the way do-hwan leans closer, the way his hand brushes your arm—it’s enough to make jealousy coil hot and bitter in jungkook’s stomach. it burns through him, unbearable, as he watches do-hwan dip his head lower, his lips so close to yours.

and then something inside him snaps.

fuck it. 

before he knows it, he’s moving through the crowd, his feet carrying him faster than his mind can keep up. his hand reaches out, fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist just as do-hwan’s face nears yours. you barely have time to process the sudden motion before you’re being yanked back, stumbling slightly into jungkook’s chest.

“what the hell?” do-hwan says, his tone sharp, but jungkook doesn’t even look at him. his focus is entirely on you, his jaw tight and eyes dark with something unreadable.

your breath catches, your heart hammering in your chest as you look up at him, startled. 

“jungkook—”

he doesn’t let you finish. 

his hand wraps firmly around your wrist, and before you can process what’s happening, he’s pulling you away. his grip is steady but not rough, a silent insistence that leaves no room for argument.

“jungkook, wait—” you try again, glancing back at do-hwan, whose confused expression barely registers in the rush of your heartbeat.

jungkook doesn’t look back, his jaw tight and his steps purposeful as he weaves through the crowd, his hand never leaving yours. the air around you feels heavy, the muffled music and chatter blurring into white noise as he leads you up the stairs.

your pulse thrums in your ears as he pushes open a door and pulls you inside, closing it behind you with a quiet but final click. the sudden silence of the room contrasts sharply with the chaos outside, and for a moment, you can only stare at him, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath.

he finally lets go of your wrist, his hand lingering for a split second longer than necessary before he steps back. his gaze is dark, unreadable, but the tension radiating off him is palpable. the weight of the moment presses down on you, thick and suffocating, as you wait for him to speak.

a moment passes.

then, another.

and another.

and another.

and then—

“dump him.” 

you clearly your throat.

“can’t dump him. he’s not my boyfriend—“

“you and your fucking situationships.”

you gulp.

you hate the way he says it.

situationship… fuck him.

the room feels smaller than it is, the air thick with the weight of the moment. jungkook’s jaw ticks as he stares at you, the sharpness in his voice cutting through the silence.

“you’re… fucking with me, right?” he spits out, his tone teetering between disbelief and frustration. “you can’t be fucking real right now. you were just—”

“i was just what?” you snap, your glare matching his. “no fair, jungkook. i got to hear you fuck some girl, but you don’t want to watch me kiss—”

“did i ask you to?” he cuts in, his voice rising.

“no,” you huff, crossing your arms. “but what are you asking from me right now? huh? jungkook… i don’t understand you—”

“what do you think i’m asking?” his voice lowers, but the intensity behind it doesn’t waver. he steps closer, his presence almost suffocating. “you’re always trying to act like this doesn’t matter. like i don’t matter.”

“maybe it doesn’t,” you challenge, even though the words taste bitter on your tongue.

jungkook laughs, but it’s humorless, sharp. 

“yeah, sure. that’s why you still give a fuck about me fucking—”

you snap. “don’t tell me her name.”

“what?” jungkook grumbles. “is that it? you get to parade around, yelling his fucking name and announcing it to the entire fucking world but i don’t get to tell you about the girl that came onto me for months? do-hwan biochem this, do-hwan that—do-hwan kiss me! is that it?"

"jungkook—"

"fuck, ___... listen to me, okay? let me tell you what i've been rehearsing for the past month and a half.... the girl i declined over and over again and fucked a total of 3 times because i was thinking with my dick is done. okay? if you’re trying to tell me that i fucked up—fine. yeah. i fucked up. but i meant it when i said it’s not what it looked like. ___, it wasn't like that. she spread shit about me being a good tutor and twisted it. how the fuck do you think i feel about myself? how the fuck do you think i feel about you seeing it differently—seeing me differently?”

your throat tightens, and you look away, desperate for a moment to compose yourself. 

“jungkook—”

“tell me how to fix it,” he cries, his frustration spilling over. “tell me what you want, because i’ll do it. i’ll stop tutoring if that’s what you want. fuck, i already did to be honest with you.”

you glance up at him, startled.

“why? that’s not going to change anything.”

“but i have to try…” his voice cracks, and he runs a hand through his hair, his exasperation evident. “i’ll give up anything—whatever it takes. just tell me what you need, and i’ll do it. want me to stop wearing ugly ass shirts? fine. want me to stop saving the dolphins you hate so much—”

“i don’t hate dolphins—”

“you’re scared of them.”

your eyes soften. 

“how’d you know—”

“it’s obvious,” jungkook breathes. “the same way it’s obvious you’re scared of this.”

this...

what even is this?

the silence that follows is deafening. you don’t say anything, and the tension between you stretches taut, threatening to snap. his chest rises and falls heavily, his eyes searching yours, desperate for something you’re not sure you can give him.

he takes another step closer, his proximity making it impossible to think straight.

“say something,” he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper now.

but you can’t.

you don’t trust your voice, don’t trust yourself not to break under the weight of it all. so you stay quiet, the space between you charged with everything unsaid.

the weight of unsaid words and unresolved feelings pressing down on both of you. you take a step back, trying to create some space to breathe, but jungkook mirrors you, closing the distance effortlessly.

then, you look around his room for some kind of break… but it backfires as your eyes meet a plushie, laying on his bed.

hello kitty.

“what’s that?” you ask a little shyly.

jungkook turns his head, feeling a little embarrassed at what you’ve seen.

“what do you think it is?” jungkook asks gently. "___... i... i can't do it. i'm sorry, i can't..."

"can't what?"

"i can't want you," he confesses. "i can't want you when i need you that bad."

he points at the plushie and sighs. "fuck, do you know how stupid that fucking claw machine made me feel? i spent like 1 or 2—"

"hours?" your eyes widen.

he shakes his head. "hundred."

hundred.

you stay silent.

"i'm sorry, ___... for everything. i'm a shithead. i'm mean and inconsiderate. i'm a waste of time—i know... but i want you to know that... everything about my life feels so weird without you in it. the past month and half has been absolute hell. it's like... if you're not around, all i do is think about you and it fucks with me. i wonder what you're eating, who you're with, and what you're going to do next... i get excited when you seenzone me. i feel like i can finally breathe when you're near. i don't know what you did and what fucking pavlov doggy shit experiment you did on me—but fuck. woof woof. whatever you want, ___. seriously."

then, you do what you fear.

you give in.

“how am i supposed to trust you,” you start, your voice shaky but firm, “when you’re not even a good friend? you’re always so mean to me, jungkook. think about it… when have we ever been good friends?”

he scoffs, the corner of his mouth twisting into a bitter smile. 

“maybe it’s because i don’t want to be your friend.”

the words hit you like a slap, your breath catching in your throat. 

“what if i want you to be?” 

his eyes search yours, as if trying to figure out if you’re serious. 

“really?” he asks, his voice dropping lower, softer.

“really.”

his gaze flickers down to your lips, then back to your eyes, and his voice drops even lower, a dangerous edge creeping into it. 

you can feel it… you can feel it about to happen. 

“even when i’m about to do this?”

before you can process his words, his hand moves to your waist, fingers curling around you in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. he pulls you closer, the heat of his touch searing through the fabric of your clothes.

his lips find yours in a kiss that’s as sudden as it is inevitable. 

it’s not gentle—it’s firm, deliberate, and entirely consuming. his other hand comes up to cradle your jaw, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss. your hands instinctively reach for his shoulders, gripping him as if to steady yourself against the storm he’s unleashing.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing hard. the air between you feels different now—heavier, laden with something you can’t quite name but can’t deny.

his hand slides up, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, and he looks at you softly, his dark eyes searching yours. the tender gesture sends a fresh wave of confusion—and longing—coursing through you.

“bad friend,” you scold him in a whisper.

his lips twitch, a soft laugh escaping him as his thumb grazes your cheek.

“don’t do that,” he says, his voice low, almost pleading. 

you raise a brow at him. "do what?"

"don’t friendzone me.”

“why not?” 

“i just kissed you.”

“so?”

“so?” he mimics, his tone teasing, but there’s a sharpness in his voice that makes you squirm. his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. 

“kitty,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a rough whisper, “i’m gonna be impossible to get rid of now."

[mixingandmelting]

Secretly Admiring You Artistically

Summary: How he's expressing that you're in his mind through art

a/n: based on scenes in the comics as civilians

Dick: Doodles

He’s dying. Actively decaying in real-time. Why he brought back the notepad from his day job as an officer home or why Haley pulled it out from his bag and gave it to you, he has no idea. To make matters worse, he’s crouching on the ground with both hands covering his very-much burning face as you stand in front of him silently, flipping through each page that’s filled with doodles of you rather than work notes he should’ve been taking for the cases he’s working on.

 It isn’t an exaggeration to say his world revolves around you. He’s not ashamed or has any problem expressing how much of a simp he is for you whether it’s to you or everyone both verbally and physically, 24/7. Seriously, he can’t go a day without getting a kiss from you or telling you how much he loves you, no matter the situation. He’s constantly stuck to your side, always smiling from how you showered him with affection back, spoiling him silly to the point he’s thinking he’s the luckiest man in the world. But artistically? He drew a stick figure once during a game of Scribble. Tim was for sure that it was a basketball hanging on a fishing pole. Bruce had told him he can help him get enrolled for art classes. 

“So, did the sarge or corporal see any of this yet?”

“No…,” He manages to wheeze out. He needs the ground to swallow him up right now. He still can’t believe this is how his (poorly and very much terribly drawn) doodles of you are discovered and exposed to you of all people. When he hears the notepad being closed shut, he musters all the strength in his mind and body. “...Can I please have my notepad back now?” He knows the answer. And he knows what’s about to happen next. But maybe today he’ll be lucky he’ll get it back- 

“Nope.” The way you pop the “p” at the end of the word - of course you wouldn’t. He doesn’t even need to look at you to know the type of grin you have on your face.

With that, he gets up and yells your name as he gets up to chase after your running form. Sure, he’s dreading what exactly you might do with the doodles but his heart is filled with adoration from how he still managed to give you happiness from them. You are the most lovable person in the world to him - he can’t wait to kiss the ever living lights out of you when he gets you.

Jason: Poetry

Oh. Well. This is embarrassing.  He rubs the back of his neck, face completely dyed red. You snuggling your face into the crook of his neck while embracing his biceps is fine. In fact, he loves waking up to see you sleeping peacefully next to him. His heart always swells with affection from how you feel so warm and right in his arms while being reminded how you genuinely enjoyed and appreciate him and his presence.  The problem was the book lying open on the coffee table next to him. The book filled with romantic poems that he placed on his face after deciding to take a power nap which ended up as a snooze session.

He had been reading each poem, using a sticky note and red pen (because he’s not a heathen to ruin such beautiful and sacred text) to mark which parts or lines reminded him of you the most. Each sticky note had arrows drawn with whatever note he’d make about you, placed on the long-edge of the pages. It was obvious you had found out the contents of the book before joining him on the sofa as you had done the same, only your sticky notes were sticking out from the shorter-edge. 

“Jason… What’s wrong?” He quickly turns his head away, covering the lower half of his face. The fact you aren’t even letting go when you usually would makes things worse, your grip tightening instead of getting loose. He doesn’t turn around to know the expression you’re making, feeling you nuzzle into his side.

“...Are you telling Roy or the others about this?” 

“What? Hell no. This is only for you and me- why would I want to share it?”

With that, he topples over you and wraps himself around you like a giant, warm teddy bear. On top of relief, he’s filled with childish glee from getting to share something that’ll only be meant between you and him. It gets a chuckle from him when you laugh at how ticklish he makes you as he snuggles into you, eventually making you two fall asleep in each other’s embrace with smiles on your faces.

Tim: Photography

He’s pacing in circles in his room. Then he’s flopping onto his bed and screaming into his pillow. Pacing in the room. And again, screaming into his pillow. He’s been repeating this exact pattern for ten minutes straight now after finding the photo album on his desk. How Stephanie found out about them or why she showed them to you when you stopped by while he was out, he doesn’t know nor want to know. But he’s pretty sure  that he's doomed. Best case scenario is break up. Worst case scenario is you choosing to never see him again because you found him creepy. 

But, it’s not his fault, okay? He’s really down bad for you. Even when he’s dating you, he keeps finding himself falling for you deeper and deeper to the point he doesn't want to miss a single moment whenever he’s with you. So, every time the two of you went on dates or plainly hung out, he’d take pictures of you. You standing on a hill during a sunset, looking outside with the window down in his car, laughing in front of a bonfire with a marshmallow on a stick in your hands. He can’t imagine life without you. He needs to be with you even if it’s in a photo. 

Finally, he  gets back up and dejectedly drags his feet to the desk. Might as well put the album away before more people find out about it. Or so he thought when he suddenly freezes at the sight of a note sitting on top of it. There’s only a single sentence in your hand writing, making him do what it says. Having memorized the order of the photos in each album, he immediately finds a photo of him laughing while sitting on top of the hood of his car. It sits adjacent to a photo of you doing the same, making it look like the two of you were laughing while looking at each other. Heart skipping a beat with tears threatening to spill, he doesn’t look away when he grabs his phone and dials your number. 

“So? Are we hanging out tonight?” 

“No, we’re doing more than that. We’re going to go all out, my treat.” 

The way you chuckle does so many wonders to him. With that, he rushes to get ready. Even if he can’t give you the whole world now, he plans on making tonight the best night of your life since there’s no other way for him to express how much he loves you when words can’t cover half of them.

Duke: Notes

He’s an idiot. That’s what he mentally screams to himself when he drops the pile of handwritten notes right in front of you. Not once had he ever mentioned that he had collected all the notes you wrote to him including the ones back before the two of you even got together. All of them were written as your way to cheer him on, secretly giving them to him in every way you possibly can. It’s as if nothing could stop you from passing him a note, whether it’s during class, passing in the hallways, eating lunch, or slipping them in his school bag. There were even times you managed to place them in his textbooks, right where the assigned reading starts.

All those notes you passed to him, he found solace. He feels that he’s being mentally and emotionally supported unconditionally, no matter the circumstances . You don’t know how he cherishes the smiley faces you draw on them or the words you write. Each and every note he treats like they are a piece of you. It led him to keep a few in his pocket, pulling one and reading it to get the extra boost he needs to get through whatever he’s doing even if it’s homework or patrolling the city. 

Now here he was, caught red handed. He’s so nervous and on the verge of a mental breakdown, fearing that you might think he’s strange. Immediately he starts to ramble, spewing every excuse in the book while watching you pick the notes that dropped from his pocket off the ground. 

“They were growing into a pile inside my bag, so I was kind of in the middle of-”

“Do they work?”

He stops and blinks at you. What do you mean they work? There’s a light blush coloring your cheeks, your hands gently straightening each note to stop them from wrinkling and getting damaged further. 

“Are they making you happy?”  Oh. Oh. He pulls you into a strong hug, hoping his actions convey how he feels about you. It’s not the notes that’s making him happy- it’s you and your efforts to make sure he is that makes him the happiest man in the world.

Damian: Sketching

No. Just no. He’s so embarrassed that he can’t muster a single word right now. You were teasing him a minute ago about how he must have sketches of you when he refused to show you his notepad he carries around. Little did you know and much to his horror, you were completely right and that exactly was the reason why he didn’t want to show it to you. In fact, he had been finishing another sketch of you before your so-called attempt to sneak up on him. You being you, you kept probing him into showing his sketches and with him being so flustered, he ended up getting the notepad snatched out of his hand leading to the current situation where both of you are standing with the biggest blush to be seen from mankind. 

It’s not two sketches he’s drawn too. There’s a whole comic strip he drew in there featuring one of his favorite moments he had with you on top of all the other sketches, some being portraits, some being a compilation of various expressions you make on a daily basis. The way he’s constantly stuck about you has gotten to where Jon had gotten smug at guessing what he was thinking of when Jon found him suddenly grinning to himself. That day, the two of them got grounded by their parents once Damian started to threaten Superboy by getting kryptonite out and the other shot lasers out of his eyes as self defense. 

“They’re so beautiful.” Your muttering snaps him back to reality.

Not wasting a second, he grabs his notepad back. Pride damaged and completely panicked by showing a pathetic side to himself to you, he tries to go somewhere, anywhere, away from you. Only to stop when you grab his wrist. 

“Damian, you're absolutely talented.” 

He mentally groans. He hates how you’re sincere and genuine in these moments. You don’t know how much he treasures you because of this - being open, honest, and accepting of his every being. Worse is you not being aware or truly choosing your battles - it’s how you are; it’s part of your nature. Accepting his loss, he sits back down. He refuses to admit how affected he is by the way you smile with excitement when you pick up his sign. Letting his shoulder brush against yours, the two of you go through his drawings with you commenting on each one while he snarks back though it’s softer and filled with fondness.

[itneverendshere]

it's all you're good for, right? - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

rafe knew you wouldn’t take his disrespect lightly.

you never did.  

he’d expected you to blow up the second he pulled that ignoring shit at the dinning. he was ready for it—your texts coming in hot, maybe you showing up at his house, ready to tear into him like you always did when he pushed too far. he'd never say it out loud, but a part of him almost liked it, the way you’d get all fired up, spitting mad. it was hot.

but you didn’t call. not a single text. you didn’t show up to the party that weekend, and when he tried to hit you up, just looking for a booty call—because fuck, he was so hard thinking about you—it went straight to voicemail. he stared at his phone like an idiot, calling again. blocked.

you? block him? nah, that wasn’t supposed to happen. rafe was the one with the power here, or at least, that’s how it used to be. it was always this push and pull, but he was the one pulling the strings, right? no fucking pogue was ever going to order him around. right?

wrong. the next weekend rolls around, and there you are at one of his parties, looking good as ever, laughing with your friends like nothing happened. and still, not even a glance his way. for two weeks now, you’ve been completely ignoring him, and it’s starting to get under his skin. more than it should.

he watches you from across the yard like a fucking creep, sipping his drink and trying to act like he doesn’t give a fuck, but inside, he’s low-key losing it. he half-expected you to walk right up to him and give him hell like you always do. but no, you’re just... doing your own thing. 

but what’s really making his head spin is what you're wearing. the outfit is pure trouble—skin-tight and leaving almost nothing to the imagination. a barely-there black mini skirt, riding up just enough to make his jaw clench, paired with a tiny top that’s more like a bralette than an actual shirt. it’s low-cut and clings to your curves, thin straps barely holding it in place, and the way it hugs your body?

yeah, he’s fucked. the way the skirt moves when you walk, teasing just enough thigh? it’s like you knew he’d be watching.

he hates how much it turns him on.

every guy at the party notices. he can see the way their eyes follow you as you move through the crowd, laughing, like you don’t even care. but it’s the way you’re ignoring him that’s really pushing him to the edge. normally, rafe loves the attention despite the look of disgust he always greets you with when you show up. loves knowing you’re secretly going to end up in his bed. but tonight? he’s not so sure and it’s killing him.

by the time he corners you, all he can think about is tearing that outfit off. the silent treatment? that shit was way worse than anything you could've said. 

“alrigh’, i get it,” he starts, throwing his hands up like he’s already done with this conversation. “jesus christ.”

you just blink up at him, completely unfazed, like he’s not even worth a reaction. his words might as well be bouncing off a wall. the fact that you’re standing there looking so fucking good, and acting like he doesn’t even exist, is messing with his head more than anything you could’ve said.

he’s pissed, yeah, but more than that, he’s desperate. desperate for a reaction. for anything. but you just brush past him, your body touching his for the briefest second, like you’re doing it on purpose just to make him snap.

rafe stands there for a second, blinking in disbelief. did you just really blow him off like that?

before he even realizes it, he's following after you, shoving through the crowd like a man possessed.

“are you serious right now?” he hisses when he catches up, grabbing your wrist lightly but firm enough to make you stop. the emotion in his voice is undeniable, and everyone nearby is pretending not to watch the little scene. “you're really just gonna walk past me like that?”

karma’s a bitch.

you finally turn to him, but the look in your eyes isn’t anger—it’s indifference. that cold, detached stare that fucks with his head more than any of the shouting matches you’ve had in the past. you pull your wrist free with ease, like his grip is nothing.

“’m over it,” you say coolly, like you’ve already moved on from the whole thing, “whatever this is? it’s not worth my time.”

that does it.

he’s used to the back and forth, the fire between you, but this, you acting like you don’t care at all—it’s new, and it pisses him off more than he thought possible. he steps closer, dropping his voice lower so no one else can hear.

“bullshit,” he says, eyes narrowing. “you’re pissed, i get it. but don’t act like you’re done with me. you aren’t.”

the smirk that curls on your lips is almost cruel.

“watch me.”

you turn and walk away, leaving rafe standing there. he knows he should let it go, but every time he tries to convince himself of that, the way your body looks in that outfit, the way you shut him down so easily, keeps replaying in his head.

and instead of walking away, he’s right back where he started, chasing after you like he can’t stand the idea of not having you anymore.

before you even get two steps away, he snaps.

his patience has run out, and all that pent-up frustration? yeah, it’s got him seeing red. he doesn’t even think about it—just moves. his hand wraps around your arm, and in one swift motion, he’s hoisting you up like you weigh nothing, slinging you over his shoulder.

“what the fuck, rafe!” you shout, your fists pounding on his muscular back, but he doesn’t stop. eyes burning, jaw clenched—he doesn’t give a shit who’s watching. not his friends, not anyone at the party. right now? he’s too pissed off and turned on to think straight. 

you wriggle in his grip, your legs kicking, but he holds you tight, marching through the party like it’s no big deal, even though everyone’s definitely staring. he’ll deal with the fallout later.

“put me down!” you’re practically growling, and maybe under any other circumstances, he would’ve listened. but not tonight. tonight, he’s done playing nice, done pretending like he’s not obsessed with you or your body, done trying to act like he’s got control over this situation when clearly, you’re the one pulling all the strings.

his grip on you is tight, and possessive, and you’re too furious to care about how turned on you secretly are. he doesn’t stop until he reaches his room, kicking the door shut behind him with one solid thud. the sound of the lock clicking is loud in the tense silence. then, he throws you onto his bed, like you're nothing more than a ragdoll.

you bounce once, staring at him with wide eyes.

“what the fuck is wrong with you!” you snap, sitting up on the bed, glaring at him.

he’s pacing now, running his hands through his hair, wild-eyed, like he’s trying to calm himself down but can’t. he turns to you, his face twisted in frustration, like he’s been holding something in for way too long. and when he speaks, his voice cracks just enough to show how on edge he really is.

“you!” he explodes, pointing at you like you're the only thing in the room. “you’re what’s wrong with me!”

his pacing slows down, and suddenly he stops. he turns back to you, both his hands shooting up to his temples, fingers pressing into his head.

“you get in my fucking head,” he admits through gritted teeth, jabbing his fingers into his temples like he’s blaming you for every thought he's had for weeks. “i can’t think straight because of you. every fucking time, you crawl into my head and just—won’t—leave.”

instead of letting his little meltdown get to you, you lean back on your hands, with a bratty scoff. “how is that my fucking problem?” you snap, crossing your arms like you couldn’t care less about his breakdown. “that’s on you, not me. maybe you should try, i don’t know, leaving me alone.”

rafe stares at you, his chest heaving, his jaw clenched tight, “you think this is a joke?” he growls, stepping closer, closing the gap between you two, his presence almost suffocating. “you think you can just sit there and act like none of this is your fault?”

you give him a fake sweet smile, leaning forward just enough to be in his face, “maybe you shouldn’t have fucked me in the first place, hmm? god forbid your friends find out you’ve been slumming it with a pogue.”

it’s the fake docility in your smile that makes him want to break something. he steps even closer, his breath hot and heavy as his eyes lock onto yours, blue and furious.

"that’s what this is?" His voice is low, almost a growl. “you seriously don’t get it, do you?" he leans in, his face inches from yours, his expression almost daring you to keep pushing. "this—whatever the fuck this is between us—this isn’t about them. it’s about you." his hand shoots out, gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. "don’t act like you didn’t know what you were getting into from the beginning."

you yank your chin free, rolling your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he's getting to you. “right. you ignoring me at the dinner? guess i was supposed to just sit there and take it, huh? maybe you wanted me to be a good little bitch and not make any noise.” 

you might be pissed, but you're not just angry—you're hurt, and that fucks with his head more than he cares to admit.

rafe huffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration, looking away for a second before turning back to you. “what the fuck do you want from me? huh? you want me to call you my girlfriend? you want me to fucking introduce you like this is some kind of relationship? be fucking serious.”

"be fucking serious?" you repeat, "you gave me a 200$ tip, you fucking asshole!" you shove him hard in the chest, catching him off guard. “like ’m some kind of fucking whore!”

rafe's eyes widen as he stumbles back a step, “wait—what? no, no, no. that’s not what it meant.”

you glare at him, shaking your head in disbelief. “of course, it fucking was!” you shout, shoving him again, harder this time. “what else would it mean, huh? you throw money at me like it’s supposed to make everything okay, like ’m some kind of... some kind of pogue you can pay off and keep quiet.”

he looks stunned, his mouth opening and closing like he’s trying to figure out what to say. “that’s not—fuck, that’s not what i meant. i wasn’t thinking about it like that, okay? i was trying to help you!" he blurts out, his tone defensive, like he can’t believe you’re twisting his intentions into something they weren’t.

you laugh, but it’s sharp, biting. “help me?” you stare at him like he’s lost his mind. “oh, please. shut the fuck up. why would you ever want to help me, rafe? be real.” he tries to speak, but before he can you’re already stepping back. “if you want to fuck me, just get on with it. i need to leave. so, make it quick.”

what?

“is that what you think this is?” he doesn’t move to touch you, but the tension is strong enough to feel suffocating. “you think ’m just here to—”

“to fuck me? yeah. that’s what this has always been about,” you cut him off, “and you know what? it’s okay. let’s not drag it out. do what you do best—take what you want and leave me the fuck alone.”

he’s not ready to admit that this feels more than just a hookup. he’s not sure if he will ever get there. rafe’s chest heaves as he stares at you. he’s done trying to explain himself. 

“fine,” he snaps, stepping closer until his chest is almost brushing yours. “if that’s what you want.” 

your breath catches in your throat, but you don’t back down. not when you're this annoyed. “yeah, it is. stop wasting my time.”

in one swift motion, rafe pulls you to him by the waist, with his usual roughness that makes you drip between your thighs. his lips claim yours with a bruising force. it’s not soft or sweet—this is raw, messy, all tongue and teeth. his hands are everywhere, gripping your hair, your ass, pulling you flush against him like he can’t have any space between you. you’re both moving with frantic, desperate eagerness, like this is less about desire and more about proving a point.

“is this what you want?” rafe snarls against your lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank your top over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room. “to get fucked stupid and leave? that it?”

you let out a breathless laugh, but it’s overflowing with venom. “that’s all you’re good for, right?”

so much for making peace.

TAGLIST: @drewstarkeys-world @maibelitaaura @maybankslover @jkrafe @willowpains

[crystaldivination]

Ｉｎｆａｍｏｕｓ

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓?

Oh, you thought I wouldn't notice? You thought you could walk around with THAT energy and I wouldn't call you out? Please. You have reputation written all over you. Everyone knows what you're about —whether they like it or not. And baby, that's power.

So go ahead, pick your poison. Six piles, six different flavors of iconic infamy. But don't get it twisted —you are a problem. A beautiful, thrilling, addictive problem. One thing is for sure, I wouldn't have you any other way.

Pile 1 Pile 2 Pile 3

Pile 4 Pile 5 Pile 6

© crystaldivination ── all rights reserved.

𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒑 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 ☥ 🔪

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐍𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬

Oh, sweetheart. You are the temptation people warn themselves about. You don’t just turn heads; you twist minds, unravel logic, and make people question their own sanity. You have a way of making people obsessed, and the worst part? You don’t even have to try.

You’ve got that dangerous charm —the type that leaves people ruined but coming back for more. You’re the reason for late-night texts, blocked numbers, and "I know I shouldn’t, but…" decisions.

Your energy is magnetic —irresistible, chaotic, and so dangerously intoxicating that people know they should stay away but can’t help themselves. You are in famous for the way you make people lose all sense of self-control. You play with fire like you were born in it. Love you? Hate you? It doesn’t matter —because in the end, you will be remembered.

You don’t just walk into a room; you make it tilt. The way you talk, the way you move —it’s addictive. People try to play it cool, but the second you lock eyes with them? Game over.

𝐼𝑛𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟:

Being everybody’s favorite mistake (and you know it).

Master manipulator (but in a fun way, right?)

Leaving people wanting more, even when they swore they were done with you.

You make people ruin their own lives over you —then leave them smiling about it.

You don’t do attachments, but damn, people get attached to YOU.

People love to call you toxic, but let’s be real —they eat it up and keep coming back. You’re not for the weak-hearted, and that’s what makes you legendary.

Your presence is a storm, unpredictable and impossible to ignore. Your words are poison-laced honey —sweet, addictive, and deadly in high doses. And the truth? You don’t chase. You ARE the chase.

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐄, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫.

➽────────────────────────────❥

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟐: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐜𝐞-𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

Oh, poor them. They really thought they had a chance, huh? Aww. Your existence alone is a crash course in emotional survival. People get caught up in your presence, mistaking your indifference for a challenge. They think they can break through your walls, get you to care. Oh, how adorable.

You're infamous for your ability to turn hearts into shattered glass and walk away unbothered. It's not your fault they fell too deep —you never promised them forever.

You are self-sufficient, untouchable, and unapologetically detached. Love? Cute concept. But people get too comfortable. And you? You like your space. You'll be the best thing they've ever had, and then? You'll ghost.

The reality? You don't do messy emotions. Love is cute and all, but you have bigger things to focus on. Relationships? Fun while they last, but attachment? Not really your thing. You give just enough to keep them hooked, and then? You disappear. Not because you're cruel (okay, maybe just a little), but because you refuse to be tied down… or just because you get bored.

𝐼𝑛𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟:

Breaking hearts without breaking a sweat.

Your ability to make people fall for you... and then leave them on read.

Being emotionally unavailable, yet somehow, everyone's favorite person.

Leaving people staring at their ceiling at 3 AM, replaying every conversation.

You don't chase, you don't beg, you don't explain.

Your existence alone is a heartbreak anthem.

People romanticize you, write about you, cry about you. And what do you do? Keep it moving. Because darling, you're unreachable, untouchable, and undeniably unforgettable.

You're a legend in the game. Stay frosty, baby.

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐄, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝, 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥-𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫.

➽────────────────────────────❥

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟑: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞

Rules? Boundaries? Never heard of them. You've been disrupting the system since birth, and honestly? You make rebellion look good. You have zero patience for limitations, and you don't take orders from anyone. The world tries to put you in a box, but you were born to break out.

You're the type to do exactly what people tell you not to do —just to prove a point. You don't take orders, you don't follow trends, and you sure as hell don't apologize.

You're infamous for your boldness, your defiance, and your ability to make people question EVERYTHING. Some people admire you. Others resent you because they wish they had the guts to do what you do. Either way? You keep them talking.

You've got main character energy, and everyone else is just trying to keep up. Society tells you to sit down, be quiet? You get louder. They say "that's impossible"? You do it twice and take pictures.

𝐼𝑛𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟:

Not giving a single damn about what anyone thinks.

Being ungovernable, uncontrollable, unstoppable.

Saying "I'll show you" instead of "I'm sorry."

You don't fit in. You stand out —and you LOVE It.

You challenge authority like it's a sport (and you always win).

You make people rethink everything they thought they knew.

You’re The Untamed Rebel Who Laughs in the Face of Authority. You are a revolution, a movement, a statement. They can try to keep up, but baby—they'll NEVER catch you. People either want to be you or be with you. Either way, they're obsessed.

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐄, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥.

➽────────────────────────────❥

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟒: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰

Some people are born peasants, and then there's you. You don't compete; you dominate. You're a strategist, a mastermind, the one pulling the strings while everyone else dances. You don't just win —you make it look effortless.

People like to think they're on your level, but they're not even in the same universe. You don't just walk into a room —you OWN it. Your presence demands respect, and if someone doesn't give it? You take it.

You are infamous for being ten steps ahead of everyone else. You see through people like glass, and you know exactly how to get what you want without ever breaking a sweat. Others try to control the game, but you wrote the rulebook.

Your presence alone is intimidating. You walk in, and suddenly, everyone's aware of their own inadequacies. Because you exude power. It's in your eyes, your posture, the way you say just enough to make people hang onto every word.

𝐼𝑛𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟:

Always getting what you want, one way or another.

Commanding respect without even asking.

Never letting anyone get the upper hand —ever.

You don't ask for power —you assume it.

You intimidate people just by existing.

Your confidence? Unshakable. Your presence? Unforgettable. Your success? Unstoppable. If people are afraid of you, good. They should be.

You're not playing the game, baby. You own it.

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐄, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟒: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞.

➽────────────────────────────❥

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟓: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞

Now you see them, now you don't. You are a myth, a legend, a ghost story whispered at afterparties. A mystery, a puzzle no one can solve. You float in and out of people's lives, leaving them wondering if they ever really knew you at all. People remember you —but never in full detail. You come and go as you please, leaving just enough of an impression to haunt people's minds forever.

Your energy? Rare. Untouchable. You don't do small talk. You don't entertain nonsense.

You're infamous for your elusiveness, for the way you never fully let anyone in. People become obsessed with figuring you out, but they never do. Your energy is like a secret no one can quite grasp —and that's what makes you legendary.

You exist in a different realm, one that only the chosen few are granted access to. You don't seek attention, but somehow, it always finds you.

𝐼𝑛𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟:

Being the one they never quite figure out.

Appearing, wrecking the vibe (in a good way), and disappearing.

Making people question if they ever really knew you.

Nobody truly knows you, and that drives them CRAZY.

You're always there —but never really there.

People chase you, but you always stay out of reach.

You are a legend, a whisper, a fleeting dream. And just when they think they have you figured out? You're gone.

Mysterious. Elusive. Unforgettable. That's you.

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐄, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟓: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐦, 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡. 𝐍𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭.

➽────────────────────────────❥

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟔: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐁𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝

Oh, you? **You're a walking scandal. A chaotic masterpiece of impulse and pure vibes. People can't predict your next move— hell, YOU don't even know what it'll be. You thrive on mayhem, and let's be real —it suits you.

Some say you're reckless. Some say you're dangerous. But let's be honest: life would be BORING without you. The world too. You bring the fun, the thrill, the unexpected twist. If something's going down, you're either behind it or in the middle of it.

You're infamous for your wild unpredictability. You keep things exciting. You shake things up. You make people feel ALIVE —even if it's a little dangerous. And the best part? You wouldn't change a damn thing.

You ARE the drama. You live life on the edge, making questionable decisions and dragging others into the madness with you. People call you a daredevil— but baby, you call it LIVING.

𝐼𝑛𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟:

Living life on "f* it" mode 24/7.**

Being the reason "we are NEVER doing that again" stories exist.

Making even the most responsible people question their choices.

People never know what you're going to do next.

You say "yes" to chaos like it's a job requirement.

You turn even the most serious people into accomplices.

The world is your playground, and you're here to cause trouble. And honestly? I respect that. You are unfiltered energy, pure adrenaline in human form. And we LOVE you for it.

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐄, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟔: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 (𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠).

➽────────────────────────────❥

So tell me... which brand of infamous are you? Because trust me, you're not fooling anybody —you've got LEGEND written all over you.

YOURS SINCERELY,

CRYSTAL.

© 2025 crystaldivination ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, edit, alter, or redistribute my work. Plagiarism in any form is prohibited.

[heejake-hoon]

Enhypen hyung line when you send them a dirty text while being surrounded by family (mdni)

Heeseung: You try to bite back a smirk as you covertly type out the risky text under the table. 'Out with the fam but all I can think about is your thick cock stretching me open later…' Send. A few moments pass before your phone vibrates. You sneak a glance to see Heeseung's intense eyes narrow at you from across the room, his plush lips already parting subtly. There's a slight flush creeping up the back of his neck as he reads it. 'I dunno baby, might need you to send me a pic to really get me going while we're around your parents…' he types back with a heated look. You mouth an innocent 'What?' at him, going for wide-eyed before quickly typing. 'Like maybe a sneak peek of what's waiting for that huge cock later?' You can see the way Heeseung clenches his jaw, chest subtly rising and falling as his thick arms tense involuntarily. He's definitely getting riled already. With a wicked grin you fire off another. 'I'll be dripping and ready for you to just slam in to the hilt…' Heeseung's eyes damn near smolder as he hungrily drinks in your body before slowly, purposefully dropping his gaze straight to your lap. Even from here you can see the slight telltale tenting of his slacks as his tongue sweeps over his lower lip. Your phone buzzes again. 'Better be ready for this, baby…cuz I'm gonna wreck you raw when we're alone.' Arousal zings straight to your core at the sultry promise. Looked like getting him all worked up wasn't so hard after all.

Jay: You try not to squirm at the positively sinful text you just sent to Jay while surrounded by his whole family for dinner. 'I'm so fucking horny just thinking about those big hands spreading me open later…' You covertly peek up through your lashes in time to catch the harsh inhale and clenched jaw as he reads it. Jay's piercing eyes instantly find yours in a dark glare that has you suppressing a shudder. 'Pretty fuckin' ballsy to be sending me dirty texts while my parents are sitting right there,' he types with one thick finger. A fresh wave of arousal washes over you at the thought of getting caught. You shift minutely in your chair. 'Well maybe if you werent so goddamn thick I wouldn't be gagging for it all the time…' The muffled growl tears from Jay's throat as he reads the words, powerful forearms tensing against the tabletop. For a torturous moment you match his blazing gaze, skating your tongue over your lower lip. "Everything okay over there, son?" his father pipes up in concern. You have to duck your head to hide the smirk at Jay's visible stiffening. "Y-yeah. Just…something annoying. But it's fine." Your phone buzzes again as you catch that scorching dark look. 'This ain't over. Soon as we're alone I'm making you choke on this dick for being such a fuckin' tease…' You stifle a desperate whimper at the promise, already throbbing between your thighs at the mere thought.

Jake: You make sure Jake is within view before tapping out the scandalous text behind your back. 'God I can't wait to go home and just bury my face between your thighs later…' There's a choked sort of sound from across the room as Jake reads it, chest instantly heaving. You peek through your lashes to see his face flushed, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring as his fingers fly over his phone. 'Fuck, you tryna get me all worked up in front of your parents like this?' You bite your lip hard as you tap out your response. 'Maybe…get you so fucking horny you're leaking by the time I wrap my lips around that huge dick…' Jake damn near snarls as he reads it, free hand clenching into a white-knuckled fist in his lap. You can see the desperation kindling behind those heated eyes when they catch yours, speaking right to the molten need already pooling low in your stomach. Another buzz. 'Jesus fucking Christ. So fucking bad I wanna bend you over this table & eat you out raw till you're soaked and screaming for it…' You have to sink your teeth into your fist to muffle the desperate whine that escapes your throat. Your thighs press together instinctively, whole body quivering at the explicit visual his words evoke. You catch Jake's heated gaze again from across the room, holding it boldly as you mouth 'Bathroom?' at him with a devilish arch of your brow. His jaw clenches almost violently at the unspoken suggestion, thick chest visibly heaving beneath his shirt as that muscle in his throat bobs. For a moment, you think the sheer naked want coursing through his expression might make him snap and take you right there on the damn table in front of everyone. Then your phone buzzes harshly in your lap. 'You got 2 minutes to get that sexy ass in the bathroom before I come drag you there myself…'

Sunghoon: You try not to squirm in your seat as you send off that deliciously filthy text to Sunghoon while surrounded by his whole family. 'I'm so fucking horny just thinking about your huge cock deep in my guts later…' There's a tense pause before your phone buzzes with his response. You covertly peek up to see Sunghoon's intense gaze burning into you from down the table, jaw visibly clenched and the tips of his ears already turning pink. 'You keep talking shit like that and I'm gonna make you finish me under this table…' he warns, dark promise simmering behind those heated eyes. You bite back a whimper at the thought, surreptitiously crossing and squeezing your thighs together as another rush of arousal washes over you. Before you can overthink it, you're quickly tapping back with one hand discreetly in your lap. 'Maybe I want you to use me like a fuckdoll while your whole family's right here…' The way Sunghoon's chest expands with a sharp inhale, thick forearms flexing involuntarily against the tabletop…God, you're already soaked just imagining having that powerful frame pinning you down. Completely at his mercy while he claimed what was his with brutal need. Another buzz drags your attention back to your phone as you mouth goes dry. 'Be careful what you wish for, baby girl… you know damn well that this dick doesn't play fair.' Your cunt clenches hard at the utter sin dripping from those words. You can already picture him forcing your thighs apart to make room for his thick length sinking into your helpless body with deep, punishing rolls of his hips-- A sudden insistent nudge against your ankle makes you start. You glance up to find Sunghoon's smoldering gaze trained on you as he slowly, deliberately grinds the toe of his boot against your inner calf in a blatant tease. The breath stutters from your lips as your thighs instinctively part slightly, already desperate for more friction against your dripping center. Sunghoon's darkly amused smirk is the only warning before he's trailing burning paths all along your legs with little aborted thrusts and caresses. You have to sink your teeth into your knuckles to stifle a moan, whole body quivering with the effort of keeping some semblance of composure...

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than ALL THE THINGS

Here's some cards inspired by my love of counting in rhythm to myself in daily life

With these I have an excuse to count "one, two, three" and "one, two, three, four" out loud in the middle of games!

[kerokeeces]

ENHYPEN SFW hyung line fanfic recs!

who am I? im just silent reader who enjoys fics and want to help others find some of my favorites! srry im hee + hoon biased so most are about them

short fic - 1-5k words long fic - 5k+

HYUNG LINE

the look of love by @won4kiss - (how they look at you when they’re blinded by their love) - short fic

low power mode by @sungbeams - (when you get overwhelmed while you're out together) - text msgs

just a bet by @all4yoi - (after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet.) - short fic

HEESEUNG

sing me a song by @senascoop - (when you can't fall asleep and heeseung tries to help by singing you a song) - short fic

race to your heart by @coqhee - (lee heeseung who's always been a pro at racing takes on a change of pacing ; racing for your heart.) - long fic

uh oh im falling in love by @won4kiss - (you and heeseung have been rivals for as long as you could remember, constantly competing for the top spot in school—basically everything. living next door to each other only added to the fire, the tension between you, especially when heeseung’s cocky aura never seems to waver. but one single encounter shifts the entire dynamic, leading to confusing emotions arising, jealousy, and new surprising revelations. what happens when rivalry starts to feel like it’s growing into something more?) long fic

a stoner's guide to starbucks by @jayflrt - (in which you work at the starbucks where heeseung is a regular at (and considered a public enemy). also he only goes when he’s stoned off his ass.) - smau series

she knows her sour patch kids by @allforhee - (living under the protective eyes of your older brother, park sunghoon, he thinks he knows you the best. but litte does he know that heeseung knows you love your sour patch kids more than you love his usual swedish fish.) - short fic

win one win me by @jaylver - (who knew being angry and impulsive can get the captain of the hockey team to notice you? cussing them out when they were losing wasn't the best idea, but it definitely made lee heeseung's head turn, leading to him making a deal with you to win a game in order to get your number. but that wasn't enough for him, he was determined to make you his.) - long fic

from screens to scenes by @enreveriee - (you decide to give online dating a shot but have never met your boyfriend in person, nor do you even know what he looks like. when your friends pressure you into finally asking him out for a real-life date, things take a surprising turn. what you expected to be a simple meetup becomes an adventure filled with unexpected twists.) - long fic

taste of life by @mygnolia - (heeseung is invisible to everyone, robbed of recognition as people pass through and never acknowledge him. to live as a shadow who observes is hard—heeseung sinks into corners and simply wishes for a chance to be a part of something. but when you finally come to the biggest halloween party of the year and see him, he can’t help but be attached.) - short fic

bring the heat by @kairoot - (y/n has always disliked heeseung, the arrogant rising star of the racing scene. she especially dislikes him when he beats her brother in the city’s street racing round and takes it upon herself to do a rematch and race him. but when she gets herself stuck in a predicament, her enemy is the only one who can save her. maybe there’s more to heeseung than just his big ego.) - short fic

bjoux by @okikeu - (The fashion industry is difficult, so when the CEO of Korea's finest, luxury fashion brand, Le Désir, loses the most important ambassador of her career, her life is pretty much over. That is, until she finds a face that makes her previous fumble look like a simple marketing scheme.) - smau series

cliches are okay by @chogiwow - short fic

JAY

how you get the girl by @jaylver - (Beach parties are supposedly fun and exciting, aren’t they? Wrong. Experiencing college parties is rare for you, but you decided to give this one a go after your best friend’s constant pleas. Things were alright until everything turned sour when trouble found you and eventually you were roped into a fight alongside the campus’ famous hockey playboy. As if that wasn’t enough, the devil himself conjured up an idea that you found yourself being entangled in. It was all fun and games up until confusion arose, feelings being confessed and played, in the end, Jay had to learn how to get the girl, his girl.) - long fic

white corvette and lipstick by @okwonyo - (waiting for the cab with your boyfriend in the night.) - short fic

pictures enhypen send you of bf!jay by @ddksoo - fake texts

fast forward by @asahicore - (After yet another romantic disappointment in the form of one Jake Sim, you go to the well you’ve always believed to grant wishes and ask for your one and true love to appear. That night, you go to sleep in your bed but wake up in a strange house. When you head downstairs, you find a man washing the dishes and telling you your favorite meal is waiting on the table for you. You’ve spent hours glaring at the back of that head, you could recognize it anywhere—it belongs to none other than Park Jongseong, your high school sworn enemy… and future husband, or so it seems.) - long fic

JAKE

bed chem by @cupidhoons - (your friend sets you up with a cute aussie boy at her party) - short fic

texts with bestfriend!jake by @silquids - text msgs

found you by @whjluv - (jake is very well known and loved by everybody on campus. equally popular was his relationship with the captain of the volleyball team, haneul. even more popular, sadly, is his breakup after more than a year. the months following the event take a significant toll on jake, who becomes unrecognizable. his once sweet, friendly and pure nature is replaced by a constant gloomy and somber aura. what happens when this new version of jake sim unexpectedly clashes with a very straightforward and quite intimidating member of the school’s podcast?) - long fic

SUNGHOON

deep honey by @paarksunghoon - (the last thing you want to do is interrupt sunghoon’s time with his friends, but your doting boyfriend has always said he’ll be there whenever you need him. when a shift at work leaves you hanging by a thread, he and his friends are there to patch your soul back up.) - short fic

cafeteria confessions by @reinahwanggg - (everyone thinks you're dating your childhood best friend sunghoon. well, everyone including sunghoon because he confessed to you almost a year ago and you didn't exactly know it was a confession because of how casually he said it.) - short fic

sunghoon with a crush on you by @woniecore - smau

get well soon by @senascoop - (You’ve always considered yourself a good person—kind, forgiving, and patient. But Sunghoon tested every bit of that. One reckless, drunken drive was all it took for him to flip your life upside down, leaving you temporarily confined to a wheelchair. The inconvenience was more than just physical; it was a wound to your pride and independence. Sunghoon, however, refused to walk away from his mistake. Guilt-ridden and determined to make amends, he became a constant presence in your life—covering your medical bills, offering you emotional support, and sticking around even when you wished he wouldn’t.) - long fic

love on air by @pshbites - (two podcast groups, both equally popular on the internet, start interacting with one another. however it isnt how fans want it to be.. OR yn sees sunghoon hating on lauryn hill and accidentally starts an entire fanwar with him.) - smau series

the 24-hour dating challenge by @jaeyunverse - (being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.) - long fic

[strawberrysznn]

Beauty AND brains. Your knowledge is your weapon.

Let's not only be insanely beautiful but also disgustingly educated. Other than discipline and hard work, your knowledge is your weapon in this world of chaos, something that you can sharpen and use.

Where can you expand your knowledge? What areas, what topics

How can you expand your knowledge? In different circumstances and preferences such as if you're too busy or if you have a short attention span

Where can you expand your knowledge?

I DO NOT mean that you need to be an expert at everything. You don't need multiple degrees for each type of intelligence. However, if you want to sharpen your weapon, sharpen your knowledge.

These are the areas where you CAN sharpen your knowledge AND the areas where you SHOULD know the basics in:

Emotional, Communication, Morals, Ethics. Be human, and make others feel human too. Cultivate empathy, understand mental health, build your conscience, and differentiate right from wrong. Communicate frequently and effectively.

History, Culture, Politics. The world is chaotic — learn to stand your ground. Understand history, politics, corruption, culture, and the overlooked heroes. Know what shaped the past to navigate the future.

Digital Literacy. The internet is a double-edged sword. Learn to navigate it safely, protect your privacy, spot misinformation, and adapt to evolving technology.

Manners, Etiquette, Body Language. The way you present yourself matters. Respect others, read unspoken cues, and master the art of presence.

Self-Sufficiency, Life Skills, Livelihood. You won’t always have someone to rely on. Cook, clean, manage time, handle money, and adapt to life’s challenges. Be independent.

Literature, Language, Writing. Words are power. Read, write, and communicate with depth. Language shapes history, culture, and thought—use it wisely.

Critical Thinking, Problem-Solving. The world isn’t black and white. Question everything, analyze critically, recognize manipulation, and think for yourself. Don't be swayed easily by others.

Science and Math. The foundation of everything. At least know the basics, enough to understand the forces shaping the world — logic, numbers, and the universe itself.

Self-Care, Hygiene, Fitness, Health. Your body and mind are your greatest assets. Eat well, stay active, manage stress, and prioritize your well-being before it’s too late.

How can you expand your knowledge?

When you have free time When you're busy When you prefer learning visually When you have little to no attention span

You are what you consume. Now that you know what topics you can expand your knowledge on, these are what you can use / do to consume those information:

Have some free time? Do / use these

Read books, take online courses, or watch in-depth documentaries. (Example: history books, finance courses, science explainers) Engage in discussions or debates to refine your thinking. (Example: politics, ethics, critical thinking) Try hands-on learning like experiments, DIY projects, or journaling. (Example: cooking, coding, writing) Attend workshops, seminars, or community events.

Too busy? Do / use these

Listen to podcasts or audiobooks while traveling, doing tasks / work / school work, or doing chores. (Example: podcasts on Spotify / Tiktok, Youtube videos where the creator is more on speaking, audiobooks on Audible or by downloading a free e-pub format e-book online then uploading it into Google Playbooks and using the audiobook / text-to-speech format) Follow bite-sized content on social media. (Example: short educational / history Tiktok videos, digital literacy infographics, photos on Pinterest) Take advantage of apps and tools for productivity, learning, etc. (Example: budgeting apps, language-learning apps) Watch short, informative videos during breaks. (Example: TED-Ed, Ted Talks, short Tiktok videos)

Like to learn visually / by watching? Do / use these

Watch video explainers, documentaries, or animated infographics. Use apps that gamify learning. (Example: Duolingo for language, Codecademy for coding) Follow visually engaging content creators. (Example: finance charts, body language breakdowns) Make mind maps or illustrated notes to break down complex topics. (Example: self-care routines, political structures, problem-solving techniques)

Little to no attention span? Do / use these

Learn through short-form content like TikToks, reels, or infographics. Play interactive or gamified learning apps. (Example: strategy games, trivia quizzes) Follow meme-based or storytelling-style education accounts. Try hands-on, fast-paced activities. (Example: debate flash rounds, real-world problem-solving challenges, DIY experiments)

Begin small, learn the basics, take a step at a time, and start from there. Be BOTH beauty and brains. You have a weapon (your knowledge), sharpen it and use it.

[gothamite-rambler]

Batman has to constantly remind them he's not going down with the sinking ship when it's not his fault

Superman: Yeah, so we're turning ourselves into the government. Do you want to meet us there, or should we meet with you?

Batman: …

Wonder Woman: Batman, we're on a time crunch. Just give us your answer.

Batman (while driving, hesitating): First, I'm fine, thank you. How are you? Second, my son, who is in the car with me, is also fine… thankfully. Third, are you on crack?

Superman: I… We as a team voted that it's best if we turn ourselves into the government.

Batman (flatly): That's a decision you made. You guys have fun with it. Can I go now?

Wonder Woman: You’re part of the team! You have to turn yourself in!

Batman: Says who?

Wonder Woman: We decided as a team!

Batman: Yes, good for you. Why am I being dragged into this?

Wonder Woman and Superman: YOU ARE PART OF THIS TEAM!

Damian (in the background): Father, can we get McFlurrys later?

Batman (to Damian): Why do people eat those? They taste disgusting.

Damian: You have to get the one with the Oreos.

Superman: We’re still on the call!

Batman (annoyed): Right, not going in. Bye.

Wonder Woman: Don’t end the call! You have to hear us out.

Batman: I should just hang up, but I’m bored and need something entertaining to listen to. Proceed.

Flash (speaking first): Take one for the team, Bruce.

Batman: Okay, first, when I'm on a call with any of you, call me by my hero name. Commissioner Gordon can get away with that, but I’m not on that level with most of you. Second, I’m not on this team if you want me to do this ridiculousness. Third, seriously, are you on crack?

Green Arrow (in the background): Thank you for not saying heroin.

Damian (in the background): Father, why do they think you’re dumb?

Batman: Because they’re not very smart.

Green Arrow (expecting this): It’s amazing how badly this is going. I told you guys he’d say no, but nobody listens to me.

Batman: This is one of the rare times I agree with Arrow. I didn't sign up for a team where we all turn ourselves in for something I didn’t do.

Superman: It’s a team decision.

Batman: I don’t care.

Superman: But it’s for solidarity.

Batman: That I don’t care about.

Superman: Again, we’re a hero team. We’ve saved the world together; can’t you do this one little thing?

Green Lantern (Hal): And his response is…

Batman: Fighting villains, I enjoy. I wouldn’t be on a sports team, a firefighter team, or a doctor team with you if you're going to be this dense, and I sure as hell won't be on this team if you want me to do something this stupid. Is the brain cell you share gone for the day?

Superman: Okay, well… Kara is going with us.

Batman: And I've lost a little respect for her.

Supergirl: Hey! Wait, you had respect for me?

Batman: Did you contact any of my adult kids? Nightwing? Red Robin? I know Red Hood would just laugh before hanging up.

Superman: We haven't called them yet… but I bet they'd say yes!

Batman: No, they wouldn’t. I know that because they just texted my youngest son, who’s with me, and their messages say, “Not a chance in hell.” I didn’t even have to say anything. I raised them well.

Superman: Can’t you put aside your ego and just do this for us?

Batman: Who’s going to pick up my son from school? Go to my daughter's recital? Attend my other son’s group therapy session? Talk to my future fiancée about where I’ll be? Just curious, which one of you will handle that?

Batman waited for a few seconds, and none of the members responded.

Batman: Right. As stated, I'm not going, and if you call me again with this stupid request, I'm cutting the power to the building for a month. I will let that building decay to prove a point.

Damian: You tell 'em, Father!

Batman ended the video call without another word.

Wonder Woman: He’s getting calmer with his reactions.

Green Arrow: Yeah… Guys, maybe we don’t turn ourselves in this time. Maybe we… do something else? Anything else, because he has a point. I'm not sinking in the Titanic when there's a lifeboat.

Aquaman: Good Titanic metaphor.

Green Arrow: Thanks, man.

[kirammanswifey]

arcane characters x fem reader! in couples therapy

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco and sevika.

warnings: emotional abuse, manipulation, codependency, addiction, toxic relationships, unresolved grief, trauma, jealousy, trust issues, aggression.

writer's note: this was a whole emotional journey. relationships can be a whirlwind, but they teach us things about ourselves that we didn’t expect to find. the most important thing i want to remind you all is that you are never alone in your struggles. taking care of your mental health isn’t a sign of weakness or something to be ashamed of. please don’t underestimate the power of an honest conversation with someone who can help you understand yourself better. therapy is a necessity for everyone. and remember, healing is a process, and it always starts with taking care of yourself. sending you all lots of love and hugs. as you already know request are open ;)

viktor

You were sitting at the edge of the couch, your legs crossed and your fingers intertwined in your lap. Your nails were marked with small crescent shapes you had made by gripping your fingers too tightly. You had been like this all the way here, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

Viktor, for his part, was sitting next to you but seemed distant, almost absent. His eyes were fixed on a spot on the carpet, as if he wanted to be anywhere but in this room. His body leaned slightly away from you on the couch, as if instinctively trying to put some distance between you two. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this.

The therapist observed both of you before breaking the silence.

“Viktor told me it was his idea for you to come,” she said softly. “Would you like to tell me why?”

“Because I have a problem, right?” you blurted out, your voice cracking a bit, though you tried to sound firm.

Viktor lifted his head and looked at you, his lips pressed together. “That’s not it…”

“Yes, it is,” you insisted. “I’m here because he thinks I’m an emotional wreck.”

“That’s not fair,” Viktor replied, his tone serious but still controlled. “You know that’s not true.”

“Then why are we here?”

“Because I can’t keep going like this.”

The silence dropped like a hammer. You felt your heart stop for a second, then beat so fast it hurt.

“I can’t keep feeling guilty every time I’m not with you,” Viktor continued, and now his voice had a hint of exhaustion that broke your heart. “I can’t keep worrying about you not eating, not sleeping, locking yourself in when I have to travel or work late.”

“And what do you want me to do?” you retorted, a mix of rage and fear rising in your chest. “Sit back and relax while you go, while you're with who knows who, doing who knows what?”

“I’m working,” Viktor emphasized, his tone now tighter. “What do you want me to do? Not have a life outside of our relationship?”

“I want you to act like you care,” you blurted, unable to contain the flood of emotions choking you. “Because sometimes it doesn’t seem like you do. You leave without saying anything, barely text me when you’re gone, and when you come back… it’s like you’re in another world. Like I don’t even exist.”

Viktor let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s not that I don’t care,” he murmured. “It’s just… I need space.”

“Space?” you repeated, feeling desperation consume you. “Space for what? To get away from me?”

“To breathe,” Viktor answered, and this time his words stabbed you in the chest like a knife.

The therapist intervened at that moment, her voice calm, as if she wanted to stop the fire before it got out of hand.

“Let’s pause for a moment,” she said. “There’s something very important you both are expressing here: attachment styles. From what you’re describing, it seems Viktor has an avoidant attachment style, and you have an anxious one.”

“What does that mean?” you asked, your voice still trembling.

“It means Viktor tends to manage his emotions by distancing himself, because he feels safer when he can control his feelings without depending too much on others,” the therapist explained. “On the other hand, your way of bonding is the opposite: you seek constant closeness because distance makes you insecure. And when Viktor pulls away, you feel like something bad is about to happen. This is very common in people who have experienced painful relationships in the past.”

You lowered your gaze. You knew she was right. You remembered the times your ex-partners had left you without a word, the times they had betrayed you when you let your guard down. All of that had left scars that now bled every time Viktor walked out the door.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” you asked softly.

The therapist looked at you with empathy. “You need to learn to calm your anxiety without relying solely on Viktor to feel okay. Because if you base all your emotional stability on him, every time he distances himself, it will feel like the world is falling apart.”

“And what about him?” you pressed, feeling the lump in your throat tighten again. “Why do I have to change?”

“It’s not about you changing alone,” Viktor intervened. His voice was softer this time, but his eyes were fixed on yours, serious and sincere. “I also need to learn to be more… present. I don’t always realize that my way of loving isn’t enough for you. And I don’t want you to think I don’t love you just because I don’t know how to say it with words.”

Tears welled up in your eyes.

“Why can’t you do it?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“Because that’s who I am,” he whispered. “Because I’m not used to depending on anyone. Because I grew up learning that I had to solve things on my own. But… I want to try. Because I don’t want this to end.”

The therapist nodded, pleased with this small breakthrough.

“The first step is for both of you to recognize that you express love differently,” she said. “You, with words and constant affection. Viktor, with more subtle actions, but just as meaningful. If you can recognize those gestures in each other, you can start to find a balance.”

You nodded slowly, wiping the tears from your face with the back of your hand.

“And you,” the therapist said, addressing Viktor, “you need to find a way to give her security without feeling like it’s invading your space.”

Viktor fell silent for a few seconds, then nodded. “I’ll try.”

When the session ended, both of you left the office without saying anything. The cold air outside made you shiver, but you weren’t sure if it was just the weather or the feeling of uncertainty that still weighed on your chest.

Just as you were about to separate from him, you felt Viktor’s hand take yours.

“Do you want to grab something to eat before we head home?” he asked quietly, his gaze searching yours. “I know you haven’t eaten well these days.”

It wasn’t a “I love you,” nor a long speech full of promises. But it was his way of showing you that he cared.

You squeezed his hand tightly.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I’d love to.”

jinx

The office felt smaller than it actually was. The air seemed heavy, as if every unspoken word was accumulating in the room, threatening to explode at any moment.

Jinx sat on the edge of the couch, her legs restless, moving non-stop as if anxiety was boiling under her skin. Her fingers drummed on her knee, and every few seconds she clicked her tongue in impatience.

You, on the other hand, were rigid, arms crossed, and your gaze fixed on the carpet. You didn’t want to look at her… because if you did, you feared the tears you’d been holding back would escape before you could say what you came here to say.

“Well,” the therapist began, her voice calm but firm. “It seems there’s a lot of tension between you two. Would you like to tell me what’s going on?”

The silence stretched for a few seconds before you spoke.

“Jinx has a problem with drugs,” you said bluntly.

Jinx scoffed, a bitter smile on her face.

“Are you seriously going to start with that?”

“Yes,” you replied firmly, finally looking in her direction. “Because I’m tired of it.”

Jinx let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Of course, you’re tired,” she repeated, emphasizing the word as if it were absurd. “You know what? I’m tired of you always doing this… treating me like I’m some damn crazy person.”

“Because you are when you’re on drugs!” you exploded, your broken voice betraying all the anger you had been holding in.

The therapist raised a hand.

“Girls, let’s try to calm down,” she intervened gently.

But you couldn’t stop. Not this time.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve seen you completely out of it, unable to even hold a coherent conversation?” Anger consumed you, and every word came out in a rush. “Do you know how much it hurts to see you like that? Watching you lose yourself in that shit and not even seem like yourself anymore?”

“I’m always me!” Jinx screamed, her eyes wide. “Why can’t you understand that? Why do you treat me differently when I’m like this?”

“Because you’re not the same!”

Jinx looked at you as though you had just committed the greatest betrayal.

“When you’re high, you say horrible things, things you wouldn’t say if you were sober,” you continued. “You look at me like you don’t care about anything I say. It’s like I don’t even exist to you in those moments.”

“Do I treat you badly?” Jinx let out a bitter laugh. “And what about you? Every time we fight, you always bring up everything you’ve done for me, like that gives you the right to control me.”

“Do you want me to remind you why I do that?” you yelled, unable to hold back.

Jinx glared at you defiantly.

“I left my friends because you didn’t trust them. I distanced myself from my family because you got paranoid, thinking they were judging you. Everything I do revolves around you… Everything! And you, instead of valuing that, just keep sinking deeper and deeper!”

Jinx gritted her teeth, furious.

“And who asked you to do that?” she spat angrily. “I never asked you to give up everything for me!”

“How can you say that!?” you screamed, and now the tears you had tried so hard to keep in began to spill. “I’ve done so much for you… and all I’ve gotten in return is disappointment after disappointment.”

The silence that followed was devastating.

“Do you want me to tell you when the worst moment was?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It was when I took you to meet my parents, and you showed up completely high.”

Jinx lowered her head, her expression hardening.

“Do you know how humiliating that was?” you continued, barely able to speak. “You were stumbling, saying incoherent things… My mom looked at me with pity… and my dad wouldn’t even talk to you. It was like… like I was introducing a stranger.”

Your shoulders shook with sobs.

“Today you didn’t come high because I had to stop you,” you said between sobs. “Do you think that’s fair?”

For the first time in the entire session, Jinx had nothing to say. Her gaze was fixed on the floor, her fists clenched tightly.

“If you don’t change… if you don’t do something to stop this shit…” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I’m going to leave. Because I can’t take it anymore.”

The silence that followed felt eternal.

Jinx gritted her teeth, and when she looked up, her eyes were red.

“No…” she murmured, barely audible.

Then, as if something inside her had broken, Jinx fell to her knees in front of you. Her hands gripped your legs, and for the first time in a long time, you saw her completely vulnerable.

“Please,” she sobbed. “Don’t leave me.”

Her tears soaked your pants as she kept pleading.

“I’ll change,” she murmured between gasps. “I’ll do it, I swear… Whatever it takes, just tell me how… but don’t leave me…”

You looked down, feeling your heart break in two. You loved her… but you didn’t know if that was enough anymore.

“Jinx,” you whispered sadly. “I can’t keep believing in empty promises…”

“They won’t be!” she cried desperately. “Please… they won’t be.”

The therapist intervened at that moment, her voice calm but firm.

“Jinx,” she said softly, “if you really want to show you’re committed to this change, our clinic has a specialized addiction treatment program. We can work together on that.”

Jinx could barely lift her gaze, but she nodded weakly.

“I’ll do it…” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”

You looked at the therapist, feeling a mix of relief and fear.

“It’s a long process,” the therapist explained. “But if both of you are willing to commit, this could be the first step toward things improving.”

When they left the office, Jinx barely dared to look you in the eyes.

“I’ll do it,” she repeated, her voice firm.

This time, you didn’t respond. Because you didn’t want words… you wanted actions.

And you still didn’t know if she’d be able to give them to you.

vi

There haven’t been any words between you since you left home. Silence has become common whenever your fights drag on too long, and this time was no different.

Vi sits with her body slightly leaning forward, elbows resting on her knees, as if she’s ready to jump at the first attack. Her lips are pressed tightly together, and though she tries to hide it, her fingers move restlessly — a habit she only shows when she's about to lose her patience.

You're on the other end of the couch, arms crossed over your chest. You feel the heat in your face, a mix of anger, frustration, and anxiety that’s been building in your chest for days. Ever since Vi suggested going to therapy, only one thought has been circling your mind: she just wants to clear her conscience.

The therapist, a woman with a calm but firm voice, observes you both before speaking.

"Alright, what brings you here today?"

"Her," you answer immediately, looking at Vi with resentment. "Vi's the one who said we needed this."

Vi laughs, a dry laugh with no amusement in it.

"Of course," she mutters with clear annoyance. "Because apparently, no matter what I do, it’s always enough for you to think I’m sleeping with someone else."

"And isn’t that the truth?" you snap, your voice vibrating with anger.

The therapist raises a hand to calm you. "Let's lower the tension for a moment," she says softly. "I know you're both frustrated, but I want us to focus on understanding what’s happening here."

It’s hard to calm down. Your thoughts are racing too fast. Everything in your head is screaming that Vi is hiding something, that there’s something she hasn’t told you. And the worst part is that you feel like no one else sees it.

"What’s happening," you finally say, "is that Vi isn’t honest with me. She's always surrounded by new people, flirting with everyone, smiling like nothing matters, and... and it makes me feel like I’m not enough. Like everyone else is better than me."

Your voice cracks, but you don’t want it to show.

"Honest with you?" Vi turns to look at you directly, her eyes burning. "Do you really believe I’m cheating on you?"

"I can’t trust you," you say without thinking. "Why would I? I’ve seen the way people look at you and how you smile back. Am I just supposed to sit back and relax while you have your fun behind my back?"

"Behind your back?" Vi laughs again, but this time her voice shakes with anger. "You know what? I’m tired of every time I talk to someone, every time I go out without you, you thinking I’m in bed with someone else. I can’t even breathe without you looking at me like I’m a liar."

The therapist steps in. "Violet, why do you think your partner feels this way?"

Vi sighs, runs a hand through her hair, and leans back, staring at the ceiling as if searching for the right words.

"Because she’s been hurt before," she finally says. "Because someone broke her heart, and now she thinks I’m going to do the same." Her voice sounds more tired than angry now.

"And you think that justifies everything you do?" you ask bitterly.

Vi looks at you, hurt. "Do you think it’s my fault that you doubt everything I do? That every time I’m late, you assume I’m with someone else?"

"It’s not that I think it," you mutter, rage bubbling back inside you. "It’s that I’m sure of it."

"You have no proof of that!" Vi explodes, slamming her palm against the armrest. "I’m tired of constantly having to prove to you that I love you."

The therapist speaks again, her voice firm but calm.

"Let’s pause here for a moment. Violet, you say you feel like you can’t do anything without your partner doubting you. And you," she says, now turning to you, "seem to feel that if you don’t control the situation, you might lose her. Why do you think you react this way?"

The question hits you hard. For a few seconds, you can’t speak. The air feels heavy in your chest.

"Because I don’t want to get hurt again," you finally whisper, your voice barely audible.

"Do you believe Violet is like the people who hurt you before?"

Your lips tremble. "Sometimes, yes," you say quietly. "Not because I want to think that... but because I can’t help it. Because when she starts to pull away, when she doesn’t answer her messages or comes home late... I can’t stop my mind from spinning. And then... I get angry. I get aggressive and... I say horrible things. Things I don’t mean."

Vi lowers her head and closes her eyes tightly. Her fingers lace together, tense.

"And how do you feel when you lash out like that?" the therapist asks.

"Sometimes... I feel like I can’t stop it," you admit, tears threatening to fall. "Like all that anger just takes over because I’m... so scared of losing her."

The therapist nods, and her voice softens.

"When someone has experienced betrayal and painful breakups, it’s common for their brain to activate a defense mechanism. Distrust, fear, and aggressive impulses aren’t always easy to control because your mind has learned that the best way to protect itself is to strike first."

Those words cut you like a knife. Your breath catches in your throat, and the tears finally start to fall.

"I…" you can barely speak. "I never wanted to hurt you."

Vi moves toward you slowly, her hand reaching out carefully. Her fingers brush against yours, and when she finally intertwines her hand with yours, the knot in your throat unravels completely.

"I just... I’m so scared of you leaving," you sob.

Vi squeezes your hand tighter. "I’m not going anywhere. That’s why we’re here. I’m not going to let us lose this fight, babe," she says softly. Even though her tone is still firm, there’s a tenderness in her eyes that makes you feel like, for the first time in a long while, you can breathe again.

"I’m not here because I’m a cheater," she continues. "I’m here because I want us to stop hurting each other. Because I love you. Because I want this to work."

The therapist watches you both with a small smile. "This is the first step. Recognizing what you’re feeling and understanding why it’s happening. From here, we’ll work together on how to manage those emotions so that insecurity and fear don’t keep driving you apart."

Vi looks at you, and this time, without a trace of anger, she touches your face gently with her thumb, wiping away a tear.

"We’re going to be okay," she murmurs, pressing her forehead against yours. "I promise."

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe her.

caitlyn

The place felt cold, not from the temperature, but from the emotional distance that had formed between the two of you. You sat at the edge of the sofa, defensively, as if you were trying to protect yourself from the whirlwind of emotions eating you up inside.

Caitlyn sat across from you, her posture straight, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Unlike other times, she wasn’t reaching out for your hand or seeking your gaze. She seemed tired… or maybe resigned. Like she was already waiting for things to go wrong before even trying.

The therapist began the session in a soft, yet firm voice.

"Alright, would you like to tell me why you’re here?"

You didn’t wait a second.

"Because I’m tired of Caitlyn letting her mother control our relationship," you blurted out without filter.

Caitlyn let out a short sigh, but didn’t say anything.

"Can you explain that a bit more?" the therapist asked.

"She’s always involved in everything," you said, your anger growing. "If we go to dinner, she has to be there. If we want to buy something for the house, she has to give her opinion. If Caitlyn has a problem at work, her mom is the first person she calls. And the worst part is, Caitlyn allows it. It’s like we’re not even a couple... like it’s always her and her mother... and I’m just there in the corner."

"That’s not true," Caitlyn immediately replied, her tone dry.

"Of course, it is," you shot back. "Do you want me to talk about the time your mom said I wasn’t good enough for you? Or the time she showed up at our house to 'help us' redecorate without you telling her no?"

Caitlyn frowned. "She was just trying to help…"

"Help?" Your laugh was bitter. "What she did was humiliate me. She said your ex knew 'how to treat you' better than I did."

Caitlyn's expression hardened, but not with anger… with discomfort.

"And here’s the other problem," you continued, your voice starting to tremble. "Your mom isn’t the only one making me feel like I’m not enough… You do it too."

The silence thickened. The therapist leaned slightly forward.

"Can you tell me more about that?" she asked.

You cleared your throat, swallowing the tears that threatened to spill.

"Caitlyn is always comparing me," you said quietly. "Every time we argue, every time something goes wrong, she always has to mention her ex."

"That’s not true…" Caitlyn murmured, but her voice lacked conviction.

"Is it not?" You turned to look at her directly. "Do you want me to remind you of the time you said Vi 'handled arguments better'? Or when you said Vi would never forget your birthday like I did? Or how about when you said Vi was more independent and didn’t need to be taken care of all the time?"

Caitlyn opened her mouth to respond, but you didn’t give her the chance.

"Do you know how that feels?" you said, your voice breaking. "It feels like I’m competing with a ghost… with someone who’s no longer here, but is always present in your mind. It’s like no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be enough for you."

Caitlyn stayed silent, and the therapist intervened.

"Caitlyn," she said softly, "Can you tell me what you think about what you just heard?"

Caitlyn ran a hand over her face, and when she looked down, her eyes were watery.

"I… I didn’t want her to feel that way," she murmured. "I know I talk a lot about Vi, but it’s because… well… she was an important part of my life."

"And what am I?" you interrupted, your voice shaky. "Am I not important too?"

"Of course, you are!" Caitlyn exclaimed desperately. "But… Vi and I went through a lot together, and sometimes… I don’t know, it’s like comparing you to her helps me find answers. Not because I think she was better… but because… because when I’m frustrated or scared… that’s what my mind turns to."

The therapist raised a hand to stop them for a moment.

"Caitlyn, have you ever wondered how it feels for your partner to be compared to someone else to find those answers?"

Caitlyn pressed her lips together and lowered her gaze, visibly ashamed.

"I don’t think she compares you because she sees you as 'less,'" the therapist continued, looking at you now. "I think she does it because she hasn’t learned to separate her memories from the present. That doesn’t mean she loves you less… but it does mean there are wounds Caitlyn hasn’t healed yet."

Her words hit you hard, because, as much as it hurt to admit it… there was some truth to that.

"And you," the therapist said, now addressing Caitlyn, "You need to set clear boundaries with your family. It’s clear that your relationship with your mother has influenced the way you handle conflict. Have you thought about why it’s so hard for you to say no to her?"

"Because…" Caitlyn stopped, swallowed, and lowered her voice. "Because I’ve always wanted her to be proud of me."

That confession left you speechless.

"Is that why you never defend me when she treats me like I’m not enough?" you asked quietly.

Caitlyn squeezed her eyes shut tightly. "I don’t want to lose her…" she whispered. "But I don’t want to lose you either."

The therapist spoke once more.

"What you’re both facing here is a lack of boundaries and an insecurity that has been building up. Caitlyn, you need to learn to protect your relationship without fearing that you’ll disappoint your family. And you," she said, looking at you, "You need to understand that Caitlyn can’t erase her past, but she can learn to stop comparing you to it."

The silence that followed was painful… but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if, finally, both of you were beginning to understand what was really wrong.

As you left, you walked in silence until Caitlyn suddenly stopped.

"I’m going to talk to my mom," she said firmly. "I’m going to tell her that I need her to step back from our relationship."

You looked up, surprised.

"And about Vi…" Caitlyn took your hand gently. "I’ll stop bringing her up. I don’t want you to feel threatened by someone who’s no longer a part of my life."

The tears you had been holding back finally fell.

"Why now?" you asked, your voice broken.

"Because I love you," Caitlyn murmured, squeezing your hand tightly. "And because I don’t want you to doubt that anymore."

You couldn’t hold back any longer and threw yourself into her arms, crying uncontrollably.

jayce

The silence was so heavy it almost felt suffocating. Jayce sat with his back straight, shoulders tense, fingers intertwined, gripped so tightly that his knuckles were white. His gaze was fixed on the floor, never lifting.

You, on the other hand, had sunk into the armchair, arms crossed tightly over your chest as if that rigid posture could protect you from what was about to come.

The therapist took a soft breath before speaking.

"I understand that you're here because you feel like your relationship has changed a lot over the last year," she said in a calm voice. "Do you want to tell me what's been going on?"

Jayce was the first to speak, his voice wavering slightly.

"I... I don't know what else to do," he admitted. "Everything changed after we lost the baby. She... became cold, distant. It's like..." He hesitated, swallowing hard. "Like she's not here anymore."

A surge of anger flared up in your chest.

"And what did you expect?" you snapped. "For me to act like nothing happened?"

"I didn’t say that," Jayce replied, trying to stay calm.

"Then what?" You sat up in the armchair. "What more do you want from me?"

"I want..." Jayce bit his lip, searching for the right words. "I want us to feel like we used to. I want you to... look at me like you used to, talk to me like you used to, and..."

"Want me to sleep with you?" you interrupted, your tone laced with venom.

"It’s not just about that!" he exclaimed, raising his voice. "But yes, it’s part of the problem. Or what do you want me to think when we haven't touched each other in a year?"

"And you think that’s the only thing that matters?"

"No, but... how am I supposed to know what you feel if you don’t let me get close to you?"

The therapist raised her hand, trying to stop the escalation of the conflict.

"It seems like you're both feeling very intense emotions," she said calmly. "Jayce, you mentioned that physical intimacy is something you're worried about. Can you explain why?"

Jayce sighed, running his hands over his face before answering.

"Because I feel... invisible," he confessed at last. "I feel like I lost my wife the same day we lost the baby."

Those words hit you like a direct shot to the chest.

"Do you think it’s been easy for me?" you spat, feeling tears already gathering in your eyes. "Do you think I don’t suffer every day because of it?"

"I’m not saying that," Jayce murmured, tired.

"Well, that’s what it sounds like!" you shouted, on the verge of crying. "All you care about is that I don’t touch you, that I don’t look at you like before, that I’m not the same anymore..."

"Because you’re not the same!"

The room fell into silence.

"You know what’s the worst?" you whispered, your voice shaking. "That you can’t expect me to be who I was when you didn’t even want that baby."

Jayce looked at you as though you had slapped him.

"How can you say that?" he murmured, disbelieving.

"Because it’s the truth," you said, tears rolling down your cheeks. "From the moment you found out I was pregnant, you did nothing but avoid the subject. You never wanted to talk about names, or prepare the room, or anything... I would get excited every time the baby moved, and you barely listened."

Your voice trembled as you continued.

"And you know what? Sometimes I feel like, for you, it was a relief that it didn’t make it."

Jayce shook his head, almost unable to believe what you were saying.

"Is that what you think of me?" he asked, his voice breaking. "That I didn’t want our child?"

"And what else can I think?"

"I loved him!" Jayce slammed his fist on the table, his voice trembling. "I just didn’t know how to handle it. Of course, I was scared, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t care."

"Well, you didn’t show it," you murmured.

"And do you think it’s been easy for me?" he retorted, and for the first time in a long time, you saw him on the verge of tears. "Do you think I don’t cry every time I think about him? Do you think I haven’t felt guilty for every time I didn’t say what I should have said to you?"

He lowered his head, swallowing hard.

"Do you think I haven’t punished myself for it?" he whispered at last.

The silence that followed was devastating.

The therapist waited a moment before intervening.

"I think you're both carrying an immense amount of pain," she said softly. "And it seems that, instead of sharing it, each of you has been living with it separately."

Your breathing was still uneven, and your hands were shaking slightly.

"The loss of a child is one of the most painful experiences someone can go through," the therapist continued. "And grief manifests in very different ways. You," she said, looking at you, "seem to have dealt with that pain by isolating yourself emotionally to protect yourself from suffering."

She then looked at Jayce.

"And you tried to repress your pain, pretending things could go back to normal if you just kept pushing forward."

Both of you remained silent.

"Grief is not something you just 'get over'," the therapist explained. "It’s a process that takes time, and involves recognizing the emotions you’ve been suppressing. Perhaps right now, you're both feeling a lot of anger and frustration, but beneath all that... there’s love. The same love that brought you together when you decided to start a family."

For the first time in a long time, you dared to look at Jayce. His eyes were red, and his lips trembled slightly.

"How... how do we go back to being us?" he asked, his voice broken.

"Step by step," the therapist said. "For now, I suggest you start with something simple. Try to reconnect outside of the pressure of 'going back to normal.' Go out together, talk about things that aren’t related to the pain. And when you’re ready, talk about what you lost... but this time, do it together."

Jayce looked at you timidly, as if afraid you would reject him.

"Do you want to... go to the theater tonight? There's a new play showing, and I know how much you love those things," he murmured, fearful of being turned down but willing to risk it all for you.

For a moment, you wanted to say no. That it still hurt too much. But then you remembered how much you had felt his absence... and deep down, you knew you still loved him.

You nodded softly.

"Yes... I’d like that."

Jayce took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. His warm touch made you feel, for the first time in a long while, that maybe not everything was lost.

ekko

Ekko had his jaw clenched and an expression that barely concealed his frustration. Meanwhile, you couldn't stop rubbing your hands, as if the mere fact of being there was draining your patience.

The therapist glanced at both of you before speaking.

"Alright, I understand there have been some issues regarding the management of money," she said calmly. "Would you like to tell me what's been going on?"

Ekko let out a dry laugh, incredulous.

"What's been going on?" he repeated, looking away as if trying to hold himself back. "What’s happening is that she doesn't believe in me."

"That's not true," you responded immediately, feeling your chest fill with indignation.

"Of course it is," Ekko insisted, now looking directly at you. "Every time I invest in one of my projects, you get all pessimistic. No matter how much effort I put in, you always assume it's going to fail."

"Because it always does," you shot back, louder than you intended.

The silence that followed felt like a slap. Ekko looked at you with disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe you’d said that out loud.

"Is that what you think of me?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"I didn’t—"

"Is that what you think of me?" he repeated, this time with more force, almost as if trying to convince himself.

"Ekko…"

"No, seriously," he interrupted, and the hurt in his voice froze you. "Do you really think I'm a failure?"

"I didn’t say that…"

"You didn’t verbalize it, but I know it’s what you think," his voice rose even further. "Then why are you still with me? Why are you still here if you think I won’t achieve anything?"

The therapist raised a hand, trying to mediate.

"Ekko, I understand that those words hurt, but let's try to…"

"No," Ekko cut her off, standing up suddenly. "I don’t need to hear this."

He stepped toward the door, and for a moment, you felt your chest collapse.

"Ekko, wait!"

You stood up as well, reaching him just before he could leave. You grabbed his arm, but he didn’t turn around.

"Please, don’t go," you pleaded.

"What for?" he murmured, not looking at you. "You’ve made it clear what you think of me."

"That's not it!" you exclaimed desperately. "What I meant to say is that... I’m scared."

Finally, Ekko stopped. He didn’t fully turn, but he stopped pushing the door.

"Scared?" he repeated, his voice less angry now.

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.

"Ekko, I... I do believe in you," you said, your voice trembling. "But I’m scared. Scared that you’ll put so much of us into your projects that we’ll lose everything. It’s not that I doubt you... It’s that I’m terrified of not having stability. I... I’m someone who needs control, who needs to know that everything is planned. And when things feel so uncertain, I go crazy thinking about what will happen if it all goes wrong."

Ekko finally turned to look at you. His expression was no longer angry... it was full of pain.

"Why didn’t you tell me this before?"

"Because I didn’t want you to think I didn’t trust you," you admitted, wiping away a tear with the sleeve of your sweater.

The atmosphere remained tense as both of you returned to the couch. The therapist waited a moment before speaking again.

"It seems like both of you are feeling very strongly, and that’s normal when love mixes with financial insecurity," she said, her tone calm. "Ekko, I understand that it frustrates you to feel like your partner doesn’t believe in your projects, because that touches your self-esteem and your aspirations. But I also understand that for you," she said, looking at you, "it’s hard to fully trust when you feel like you don’t have control over the future."

You both nodded, though your gazes remained fixed on the floor.

"What we need now is to find a balance," the therapist continued. "Ekko, have you thought about setting a fixed budget for your projects instead of risking all of your finances?"

Ekko crossed his arms. "It’s not that simple," he muttered. "My projects won’t move forward without money."

"I understand," the therapist nodded. "But what if you think of it as a scaled investment? Something that allows you to keep working on your ideas, but without putting your finances at risk."

The idea seemed to resonate with Ekko, because this time, he didn’t respond quickly.

"And you," she continued, looking at you, "would you be willing to trust his decisions more if he commits to planning his investments better?"

You sighed and looked at Ekko.

"If you really get organized... yes."

Ekko held your gaze for a moment.

"And if it fails again?" he asked quietly.

"Then we’ll fail together," you answered without hesitation. "What I can’t do is keep feeling like everything’s falling apart with no plan."

For the first time in the whole session, Ekko gave a small smile.

"Then we’ll plan better," he finally said. "I promise I won’t risk it all without thinking about us first."

You couldn’t help but feel a lump in your throat.

When you left the therapist’s office, Ekko stopped in front of you and took your hands.

"I’m sorry for almost leaving," he murmured.

"I’m sorry for doubting you," you whispered back.

He looked down as if thinking something important.

"You know what?" he said finally. "I’m going to start a savings fund so that, no matter what happens with my projects, we’ll always have something safe."

"I love you," you said, hugging him tightly.

"I love you too," Ekko murmured against your hair. "And I’ll prove to you that you can trust me."

The therapist watched you two with a big smile, it seemed like her work was done.

silco

Silco is sitting on the couch, arms crossed, his face grim, eyes fixed on the floor, his posture tense. He knows he’s here because you asked him to be. The idea of sharing his thoughts and feelings, of opening up emotionally, isn’t something that comes easily to him.

Your breathing is heavier than usual, but you manage to keep your composure. It took a lot to get here, to admit that things aren’t going well and that the emotional disconnection you feel is affecting you more than you’d like to admit. Silco has been distant, almost unreachable, and sometimes it feels like he doesn’t care as much as he should.

The therapist, a mature woman with a calm presence that contrasts with the tension in the room, observes you gently before speaking. “I understand that both of you decided to come here today. That’s an important first step. But before we move forward, I’d like each of you to share what brought you here.”

Silco doesn’t move a muscle, but his low voice fills the room. “She asked for it. I don’t think it’s necessary, but here I am.” His tone is curt, impersonal, as if he’s willing to tolerate the situation but not really engage with it.

A sigh escapes your lips, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on your chest again.

“It’s hard…” you begin, hesitating for a moment. “But sometimes I feel like you’re not really here. Like you’re not present in the relationship. I don’t want it to sound bad, but I feel… invisible. I don’t know if it’s the age difference that makes you see me as less than a real partner. It’s like I’m just here out of convenience and not because you actually want to be with me.”

Silco doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his expression hardens even more. His eyes shift to the side, as if he doesn’t want to hear those words, but you know he has. You know something struck a nerve, even if he refuses to acknowledge it.

The therapist nods, taking mental notes, then speaks softly. “Silco, your partner says she feels distant from you, that there’s an emotional disconnection affecting your relationship. How does that make you feel?”

The silence in the room becomes heavy. Silco tenses his shoulders, but at last, his eyes meet yours. For a second, there’s a crack in his façade, like the hardness in his gaze softens, just a little.

“I’m not good at this,” he murmurs at last. “I don’t know how… to be what she needs. I’ve always been more… direct. I don’t open up easily. And yeah, sometimes I wonder if I’m right for her. I don’t know if I am. But if it makes her feel better, I’ll try. I don’t know how to do more than that.”

He shrugs, like his words are an irrelevant confession, but inside him, fear is starting to surface.

The therapist takes note again, then turns to you, her tone soft but firm. “Your partner seems to struggle with vulnerability. Vulnerability can be very difficult for people who’ve been hurt in the past or who lean toward power and control. Silco, from what you’re saying, it sounds like it’s easier for you to protect yourself and, by extension, your relationship from potential harm. But that also creates distance between you two, because love needs to be shared, expressed in a way that makes both of you feel connected.”

You look into his eyes, feeling like, for the first time, you’re beginning to understand the root of his behavior. Throughout the relationship, you’ve seen him rise after every blow, building his walls higher each time, but you never fully understood why. This new perspective makes you see things differently.

“I… I don’t want you to feel like you don’t matter,” you say softly. “I just want you to let me in. I need to know that you’re here, that you see me, that I’m not alone in this.” Your voice shakes slightly, and you take a breath to stop yourself from breaking down right there.

Silco looks at you with concern and takes your hand, gripping it tightly. That gives you the strength you need to continue.

“Sometimes, when I see you so distant, I wonder if I’m just a child to you… or if there’s really something more between us.”

Silco doesn’t answer immediately, and for a long while, the room remains silent. His expression is still serious, but now there’s something else. A slight tension in his jaw, like he’s processing everything he’s just heard. It’s clear he’s not used to talking about these things, but at least he’s starting to listen. And that, somehow, gives you hope.

The therapist steps in gently. “Emotions, Silco, aren’t a sign of weakness. They’re a way to connect, to know that both of you are committed to this relationship. If you don’t allow yourself to feel, you’re missing out on something vital.”

Silco closes his eyes for a moment, letting those words slowly sink in. “It’s… hard,” he whispers. “But I’ll try. I’ll try… to be what she needs. I don’t know if I can, but I’ll try.”

You don’t say anything, but your heart feels a little lighter, like you’ve managed to pry open a crack in his heart. It’s a small step, but it’s something.

The therapist smiles, sensing the progress. “Good. This is a good start. Remember, this isn’t a quick fix, but if you’re both committed to working on this, things can improve.”

The session ends after an hour, and as you step outside, the air feels fresher, a little lighter.

You walk silently toward the car, but when you reach the door, Silco stops and looks at you with intensity. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s something in his gaze that makes your chest feel lighter. Then, without warning, he takes your hand firmly, a gesture that speaks louder than a thousand words.

You don’t need to say anything. You know this is his way of saying, “I heard you,” his way of showing he’s willing to try. And for now, that’s enough.

sevika

Sevika and you were sitting, but the distance between you felt more palpable than ever. The therapist, with a calm tone, looked at Sevika first.

“It seems that both of you are here to resolve an important decision,” she said, with a serenity that almost irritated you at that moment. “Would you like to tell me what brought you here?”

The therapist looked calm, but you felt your stomach twisting in knots. Sevika sighed, her gaze fixed on a distant point before speaking.

“I have a job offer abroad,” you said, trying to sound firm, but your voice trembled. “It's an opportunity that could change my career and my life. But Sevika doesn’t want me to take it.”

Sevika looked at you with a serious expression, but there was something else in her eyes. A deep exhaustion.

“I don’t want you to go because I can’t go with you,” she said bluntly. “This place, my life, everything is here. I can’t leave it all behind for something uncertain.”

“Then you don’t love me enough,” you blurted out, unable to hold it back. “If you did, you’d be willing to fight for us, for what we have.”

Sevika fell silent for a long moment, then, with a calm yet brutally honest tone, she whispered:

“No, I don’t want to fight.”

Your eyes widened, as if what you had just heard couldn’t be real.

“What are you saying?” your voice broke, on the verge of shattering.

“I don’t want to stay in this relationship anymore. I have too many voids,” Sevika said firmly. “I don’t feel the same way about you anymore. I don’t know if I ever really did. I’m in a stage of self-discovery, and… I want to explore things outside of this. I feel trapped, and I’ve been holding back out of respect, but I can’t do it anymore.”

Sevika’s words hit you like a punch to the chest. The pain was physical, sharp, as if something vital had been ripped out of you. You stood in shock, unable to fully process it.

“I don’t understand,” you stammered, tears starting to gather in your eyes. “What voids could you possibly have? Don’t we have a perfect relationship?”

Sevika sighed, moving closer to you. She took your hands with a gentleness that only made the pain worse.

“Do you really believe our relationship is perfect?” she asked, and her voice wasn’t harsh but sad, as if she had already accepted the inevitable. “Because it’s not, and you know it. I’ve watched you age your dreams while mine slowly faded away.”

Your breathing quickened, but Sevika didn’t stop.

“You’ve always wanted kids. You had plans, a clear vision of what you wanted. I never wanted that. And you knew it. But you kept pushing.”

A lump formed in your throat as you tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“And for the past three months…” Sevika continued, “we haven’t even spent a full day together. We have no intimacy. I don’t touch you, you don’t touch me. When was the last time we said ‘I love you’? When was the last time we looked at each other and felt something beyond routine?”

Sevika’s question left you breathless. The tears finally spilled over, and you couldn’t stop them. You were trapped in a mix of disbelief, pain, and sorrow. Had things really been this bad for so long, and you hadn’t even noticed?

“This can’t be happening,” you whispered, sobbing uncontrollably. “No… this can’t be real. I can’t lose you.”

Sevika hugged you, but it wasn’t a comforting embrace. It felt empty, like she was trying to console herself through you, but there was nothing left to hold on to.

“I love you,” she said softly, stroking your hair, “but not in the way I used to. And you… you deserve someone who loves you the way you deserve.”

The therapist spoke then, her voice calm.

“It seems like you’re both at different points in your lives,” she said, voicing what neither of you could ignore anymore. “You both have dreams, desires, and needs that are too different to overlook. The gap between you has become too wide.”

“So… is this it? Is that all?” you asked, feeling empty, your heart shattered.

Sevika didn’t answer right away. She just looked at you with a mix of pain and resignation.

“I think so,” she murmured. “I think it’s what’s best for both of us. It’s what’s best for you, even if you don’t see it right now. You need something I can’t give you, and I need something you no longer want.”

The therapist nodded, confirming what you both knew deep down.

“Maybe the best thing is to take a step back,” she said gently. “Maybe it’s time for both of you to move forward separately, even if that means pain and sacrifice. It’s the hardest step, but also the most honest one.”

You both listened to the therapist’s words, knowing there was truth in them, but also feeling the weight of sadness that came with it. Therapy hadn’t fixed anything immediately, but it had given you both the space to understand that love isn’t always enough to save what’s already been lost.

When the session ended, Sevika and you stood up, but the goodbye lingered in the air like a weight you couldn’t ignore. You walked toward the door, neither of you speaking. Silence filled the space between you.

As you stepped out of the clinic, the rain began to fall heavily, as if the world around you reflected the storm raging inside. You looked at each other one last time before parting ways. Sevika, her eyes glistening with a sadness she couldn’t hide, stepped closer, her hands empty, as if she wanted to offer something, but there was nothing left to give.

“Take care,” she said, her voice breaking, before turning away, walking toward a life that no longer included you.

You stood there, drenched by the rain, unable to move, as if the water was washing away what was left of you, of that relationship that was once full of promises and love. But now, only absence remained.

In the end, all you had left were her final words.

“Take care,” you whispered to yourself, watching as Sevika faded into the distance, taking a piece of you with her.