#did this instead of revising ✨

[nemesyaaa]

love in the dark — rafe cameron x gf's!twin! reader

summary ; it's all about your sister twin until rafe made a mistake by moaning your name instead of hers.....

warnings ; +18 content. minors dni. forbidden au. wrong sister trope. smut. p in v. oral (m.). attention's whore mentions. evil/angel twins. jjpope as bestfriend's readers and losers club bc i said so. cheating. little guilt. not girl girl sister content. be aware of the warnings before reading. i dont think its really dark content but it's kinda twisted so if you're not into it, just don't read it. friendly reminder that hate is useless and only hurtful for nothing.

words count : 1,8k.

author's note ; also a big thanks you to my girls @rafesangelita & @rafesheaven for helping me with this au ! it worked and I'm grateful ‼️✨

You were so different from your sister.

She was smart, popular, talented and the head of the cheerleader team. She always got the boys you wanted, reminding you that you could always dream of them, never be on their side. She was the beautiful girl of the school, her name literally glowing on every crush's list, the so-called “ kook princess ” by everyone.

She was too pretty to let you have a chance, which was unfair because you were literally her twin. You were living in her shadow. You were the so-called “ nerd & loser ” , the girl too focused on her revisions and hyperfixations, who love libraries and comics, having online friends and playing video games while chatting on discord. You were too online to be seen in real life.

All your boyfriends were literally fictional characters, and they were too fucked in mind to help you get popular at school. You always had a thing for depressed, stupid, losers, psychopaths boys. But it doesn't mean you were different from girls that had a crush on your sister's boyfriend. Who hadn't ?

Rafe Cameron was literally THE dream fantasy. You thought you had a chance when he ran toward you on the field, his helmet locked on his arms. He was so hot, his sweaty hair flying over his forehead while he was running, his big nose and wet lips glistening over the sunlight. His eyes were bright in a powerful way. You found him perfect. And you could imagine how easy life was for him because of his beauty privilege.

He smiled at you when no one did. And it was enough for you to fantasize about him, to imagine something with him. You were a hopeless romantic, forced to romanticize every small action in your life.

When he was close to you, you realized how big he was. His shoulders were broad, his chest firm and strong. His biceps were easily flexing like all the muscles on his body. The gym shorts were exposing his muscular legs. His jaw was art, especially aimed toward you just like that, as his blue eyes were watching nothing but you.

" Hey. ” he first said.

" Hey. " You said, wanting to slap yourself. Crazy how you just said the same thing as him but sounded more stupid. " Fucking loser. Do better. " you murmured to yourself.

" Can i have your sister's number ? "

You could swore at the moment that you lost your heart, as the same way your smile dropped.

But it was obvious. Every boy wanted your sister. You couldn't blame Rafe because why on earth would people want you when they could have a better version of you ? The thought of this was real and heartbreaking.

You forced a smile to answer him, not wanting him to know what's on your mind. You were already a loser, he didn't need to know how much. " Yes...yes, you can..." you just said softly, trying to hold back your tears, tired of this situation. " At this point, i think everyone has it..." You murmured to yourself with a bitter voice.

" What did you say ? ”

" What ? I said she's lucky. You're so pretty. " You replied, embarrassing yourself even more.

" I'm the lucky one. She's pretty. Guess i’ll see you at home. " He said with the cockiest smile ever.

So you started to see Rafe at home every night and day. He was always with your sister, they were always together.

Like Twins. Ironically.

But something was off. Your sister was unable to love. She just loved attention from boys. She wanted to be the attraction. She was always talking shit behind Rafe's back, treating him like nothing and you were wondering how he was still there with her.

That was crazy how everyone loved him at the house. Your parents already called him son, your sister was fakely in love, and you were really in love with him.

She was always kissing him, pulling him so close to her to steal a kiss. And after that, they were basically making out in front you. They didn't even care about your presence. And you started to think it was on purpose. Your sister wanted you to know that Rafe will never be yours, that she has something you would never have. The boy was hers.

But one day, you were at home after class, thinking of relaxing yourself during a show but something caught your attention.

You were upstairs when you heard some noises. Not the noises you were supposed to hear but you were used to with those people. You shouldn't but you walked toward the sound. The door was a little bit opened, so you checked.

And you saw it. Rafe was over your sister, oh you could see he was deep balls inside her, thrusting in and out her dripping core. His back was huge, covering your sister's body. They were fucking and from what you can heard, he was doing so good. He was fast, dick driving to her spot, hips slamming back and forth against her body. He was kissing her, hand on her throat, blocking her from breathing and fingers stuffed in mouth to the point she gagged on it. Her lips were pooling with saliva as she was nothing but a mess.

When you were about to step away, he did something that choked you.

“Fuck.. you're doing so good to me, y/n..."

Your fucking name. On his lips. When he was with your sister.

But that wasn't all. He did cum at this exact moment. He charged your twin with his load, whispering your name again and again until her pussy was full of his seed, until his voice was shaking to remain quiet.

“ What did you just say ? ” Your sister argued, a voice so loud and clear. “ Did you really say my twin's name ? ”

Oh she was mad. Really mad.

But for what ? Because she wasn't her man's attention, or for you ?

You covered your mouth with your hand to not scream.

" Shit, baby. I promise that's not what you think...Fuck, I'm sorry. "

“ You did not fucking do that. Did you really think of her ? God, you're such a jerk. ”

You went to your room, locked it because you were scared of your sister's tantrum. You tried to not think about it but you couldn't. Rafe really said it.

That was your name. He knew that you existed.

You were on call with your favorite losers. JJ and Pope. And so you asked them…

" What does it means when your sister's boyfriend is moaning your name while he's fucking her ? "

Pope's was gagged for a second while JJ first answered. " That he's fucking the wrong sister. I always tell you're prettier than her. "

" I would give you a chance if you weren't my bestfriend. "

" Did you really friendzone me ? "

" I mean... I'm into my sister's boyfriend. "

" But he's into her..." Pope corrected. " Sorry, after all, you have your chance. "

" I can't do that to my twin. "

" Well...if she can do that to you...maybe you should think of your villain era. "

" I'm not a mean girl. "

" You're not a girl girl too for wanting to Fuck your sister's boyfriend. So don't worry, you can be a bitch in peace. "

When someone knocked on the door, you cut the voice call and close your laptop before opening it.

It was Rafe. His hair was still messy from the sex, his voice deep and tired. He was all sweaty, wearing nothing but a black boxer. He was so insanely muscled, his pecs and abs glowing with sweat that was leading to a soft happy trail under his belly and heading inside the fabric of his pants. You couldn't stop yourself from lurking at the bulge. And the fact you know that he just had sex doesn't help at all.

" It's not gonna help if you continue to stare like that..." He mocked, but in a gentle way.

You looked away, suddenly uncomfortable with yourself. “ You're gonna act shy now ? Come on, we all know that's not what you are. " He continued while moving inside your room.

" Hey ! What are you doing ? "

" That's a nice room. " He complimented, looking everywhere. Your comics, posters, books, goodies and video games. “ Look like you've been alone here for so long. "

" You don't know anything about my life. " You said.

" I can tell you're nothing like your sister. You love all those things she hates. "

" And why aren't you with her ? "

" She's taking a shower. "

“ So that's why you suddenly give me attention ? ” You said bitterly. “ She's not there so now I now exist to you ? ”

He chuckled, before heading toward you, grabbing your face with his hand.

“ Oh you think it's easy to forget about you ? I see you everytime i see her. But not only... "

You glared at him for the first time he was in your room, he managed to have your attention. He smiled softly.

" I fuck you everytime i fuck her. "

You didn't care how weird it was, only cared about what he thought of you. In a second, your lips were on his.

Rafe didn't say no, he pulled you closer, his mouth pressed against your sweet lips as you felt his nose crushing against yours. Now, he could tell that you were different from your sister by the taste.

" Do you always do that ? " He whispered, licking at the string of saliva between you.

“ Do what ? "

" Stealing your sister's boyfriend ? "

" At least, it's the first time it works. " You played back. “ I want you, now”

“ Do you think you can make me cum in time ? ”

“ Do you think i'm inexperienced ? ”

“ I think you should get on your knees to prove me wrong. ”

He was against the door, while you were now on your knees, sucking his dick while your twin was still in the shower.

You weren't really proud but you were starting to think you were better than her. And the thought was obsessive. With a hand fisting his length, and your mouth pumping harder, you were doing your best. He was looking at you, fingers over your hair. You were pretty with his dick inside your throat, holding your boobs as he started to fuck your face.

The bathroom's door opened and you freaked out but Rafe forced you to still hold the pace, telling you to not worry about that.

“ Rafey…Rafey, where are you ? ” You heard her say.

With no answer, you panicked at her footsteps approaching your door. “Did you see, Rafe?” she asked.

With devilish eyes, Rafe released his cock from your mouth, inviting you to respond as you tried to catch your breath.

“ I-i don't know…” You just said with a little guilt.

“ So useless…” You heard her say before walking away.

She was so mean, you hated her.

Rafe saw that you were hurt by her words, and grabbed your jaw slowly, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “ She's wrong, baby. Look at you, how useful are you. ”

And you smiled. “ And pretty. ”

“ We share the same face. We're twins, Rafe. ”

“ But there's something I'm sure you don't share with her…what about spreading your legs for me and let me show you ? ”

You nodded.

“ Think you can moan the right sister's name this time ? ”

[cloakedpress]

🖋️ WRITING DIALOGUE THAT DOESN’T SUCK (EVEN A LITTLE BIT)

Filed under: Writing Tips, Writer Problems, Mysteriously Good Prose

So. You’re writing a scene. It’s tense. Maybe someone just confessed to murder—or worse, love. You lean back, crack your knuckles, and then…

Your characters start talking like they're auditioning for a soap opera in purgatory.

Don’t panic. Cloaked Press is here to help you un-suckify your dialogue.

🌕 1. IF IT SOUNDS LIKE A SCREENPLAY FROM THE VOID, DELETE IT. Bad dialogue often tries too hard to sound dramatic. You know the kind:

“I can’t believe you, Veronica. After everything.” “Don’t you see? I had to steal the emerald dagger. For us.”

No one talks like this. Not even cursed pirate lovers from the 18th century.

Try this instead:

“You always think I owe you.” “I didn’t do it for you. I did it so we’d both live.”

Still dramatic. Still juicy. But believable.

🌘 2. EVERY LINE SHOULD DO SOMETHING. Dialogue isn’t filler. It’s not there to kill time until the next werewolf attack or necromancer duel. It should:

Reveal character

Build tension

Advance the plot

Or be so charming we want to tattoo it on our forearm

If it doesn’t do any of those, cut it like it just betrayed the protagonist.

🌒 3. GIVE YOUR CHARACTERS DIFFERENT VOICES (NO, REALLY) All your characters shouldn’t sound like you with a thesaurus. One mumbles. One over-explains. One says “fuck” like it’s a comma.

Think of dialogue like fingerprints. No two should match.

🌑 4. SUBTEXT IS YOUR DARK AND GLORIOUS FRIEND. What characters don’t say is often more powerful than what they do.

“You’re late.” “Traffic.” “Right.” She doesn’t ask why he smells like blood.

That’s tension. That’s mystery. That’s 👏 how 👏 we 👏 do 👏 it.

🌗 5. READ IT OUT LOUD. CRINGE TEST ENGAGED. If it makes you wince when you read it, congrats. You found the bad line. Fix it or bury it under the floorboards.

Bonus: hearing it aloud helps you catch rhythm, pacing, and any unintentional comedy.

✨ Final Spell: Great dialogue feels natural, but it’s actually sneaky and intentional. Like a fae bargain. Or your favorite villain.

So revise. Listen. And don’t be afraid to make it weird.

Darkly yours, —The Cloaked Press Team 🖤

[leeny-leens]

Scents and Warmth

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!Reader

Summary: There was nothing that could melt his heart quite the way her scent and warmth did, especially after a long day.

Content: fluff, glasses wearing reader, history nerd reader, established relationship

Warnings: tiny mentions of a negative self image from Theo, nothing too strong

WC: 2.63k

A/N: originally wrote this for myself but I decided to change it up and post it, lmk your thoughts 🫶✨

Theodore's eyes scanned the room, irritation gnawing at the edges of his mind. He had a feeling she was here, yet save for a few first years spread across the common room, his beloved was nowhere to be seen. Just as he was about to give up and make his way to her room to look for her, he spied the colour of her hair at the corner of his vision, prompting him to turn around.

He stepped closer, rounding a corner hidden behind bookshelves and there she was; tucked away behind the recluse of the shelves, seated by a table near the glass wall.

He stopped in his tracks, his eyes taking in the appearance of his girlfriend who was evidently, deep in thought. She had that ghastly, pale yellow zip up on, the one he swore he'd throw away one of those days because it was just that ugly, a few splotches already present on the fabric. He wouldn't be caught dead admitting that, but he actually loved that sweater on her; it was just loose enough to pool beautifully around her upper hips and the colour brought a pretty contrast to her hair that had her looking like a mesmerising painting. And god that hair, that he adored so much was all shiny and put up, a few strands loosely escaping the metal claw clip. By the looks of her hair, she'd probably taken a shower today, and Theo stepped closer once more to observe her with furrowed eyebrows. It was a Monday, and she rarely ever took showers on Mondays. Something about her routine and how she needed to shower on Sunday night so she could feel clean for a new week. It didn't make sense to him, partly because he showered every other day, but as long as she was happy, he really didn't care. His mind returned to Saturday night, where she'd detailed how busy her Sunday would be, filled with homework, revisions and a much needed deep clean of her dorm room. Theodore concluded that his idiot had overexerted herself, leaving her with no energy to shower at the end of the day and thus she'd probably woken up two hours earlier than needed to do that this morning.

He was close enough to see her expression now; eyebrows furrowed slightly and her jaw tense as her quill scratched rhythmically against parchment. There were various books splayed open around her and occasionally, the scratching stopped in favour of turning pages in one of the books and low murmurs as she spoke to herself. Her glasses sat askew atop her nose bridge, a soft smile tugged at Theo's mouth when he realized she was so focused she didn't even bother fixing them after they'd slid down her nose.

After years of friendship, and almost two years of dating the girl he loved so much, he knew better than to startle her out of her deep focus, opting to slowly step into her space instead. Standing behind her, he tapped her shoulder softly, coughing to catch her attention and leaned down into her field of vision. “Hey bella," he whispered softly, his voice smooth and low in her ear. Her focus had been broken the moment he tapped her, and she turned to look at him with a dazed expression, as if trying to remember where she was and what was going on. That expression however, quickly morphed into a bright grin, her eyes twinkled up at him with adoration and fondness that could melt even the most frigid of hearts. “Hey Theo,” she whispered back and Theo noted the slight hoarseness of her voice with amusement, an indicator that she’d been mostly silent in her endeavours.

So close to her now, her scent hit Theo’s senses hard and he found his brain quickly melting at that. He'd never thought of himself as a guy who'd succumb to something as primal as scent, yet he couldn't help it whenever she was near, especially on the days where he knew she'd taken meticulous care to smell good. Strawberry notes mingled together with floral wisps and her beloved perfume. Gods, the smell of her perfume had his head spinning in a haze. Driven by instinct, he buried his head in the crook of her neck, not caring that her hair tickled his face as he inhaled her scent. Merlin, he wanted to drown in it, never smell anything else but her and have that be what he last sensed as he took his dying breathe.

“Theo?” her voice echoed, the confusion quickly morphing into breathy gasps as he began to press light kisses into her neck. “Yes, tesoro?” his focus was on the feel of her skin against his lips, the smooth curve of her neck and the lightly trembles as he continued to ambush her with kisses and affection.

Theodore almost let out a whine when he felt her push his face away, her eyes narrowed playfully as she stared up at him. “What are you doing?”

“Loving you?” he hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question, mainly because Theodore Nott was never unsure of things. He was poised, calm and calculated, meticulous attention to details, from the way he walked down to the way the strands atop his head layed. Yet with her, in that secluded corner of the common room, her smell enveloping him after a long day, he found himself reduced into that soft and domestic version of himself only she could bring out.

He looked at her, blue seas clashed against a galaxy full of love and her face softened visibly at his expression. “Oh, my sweet boy,” her hands tugged on his arms, guiding him around to sit beside her on the plush seat, “Love me all you want darling, I'm yours to love anyway”. It was a tight fit, much to Theodore's glee, and he shamelessly took the opportunity to lift her up and manoeuvre her into his lap.

Any sounds of protest died in her throat as one of his arms wrapped around her waist and the other became entangled in her hair, gently scratching and massaging her scalp with soft yet guided movements. He once more buried his head in the crook of her neck, occasionally pressing kisses to her skin as he smiled against her. “Whatcha working on, amore?” his eyes wandered between the books, trying to make out their subject, searching for any clues in what his beloved might be up to. He hadn't seen her much today or yesterday, regrettably, and he was itching to spend some time with her, just soaking up her presence to feel alive and breathe after facing the suffocating weight of existing as himself.

It was practiced routine by now, she didn't think when her left hand tangled into his, the one around her waist, to play with his fingers as her right one picked up the quill again. “History of magic” she pointed to the book closest to her notes and Theo finally recognized it as the textbook for that ever so dreaded subject. He raised his eyebrows, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Really? We don't even get homework in that class,” that had never stopped his overachiever of writing essays for said class, but he chose to forgo that piece of information now. “It's not an essay or homework,” she said, huffing as she pulled her notes closer for him to inspect. “I'm making notes so I can tutor our idiot friends,” after a beat of silence, Theodore found himself shaking with suppressed laughter at the absurdity of the situation. Their 'idiot' friends were mainly brilliant students, within the top of their grade and he wondered what on earth she'd be tutoring them for. Of course, History of Magic was a bit of a sore subject for everyone at Hogwarts considering Professor Binns was gods awful at teaching, but he didn't think it was dire enough for his friends to get tutored. Someone like Draco, or god forbid Mattheo, would rather die before getting any sort of tutoring.

He didn't to say any of that, voice any of his questions or thoughts because somehow she just knew it all without him saying a word. She always had known, always seen through him like it was the most natural thing. It had been that way since the day they first met, all the way back on the boats that led to Hogwarts in their first year, she'd seen through him with ease and no amount of walls or masks could deter her from seeking out the true Theodore Nott, the one she knew to be hiding underneath the charades. Once upon a time it had scared him to death, having someone see him for who he was, with all the darkness and broken, sharp edges and all that ugliness he kept under wraps. But she wasn't scared of him, she looked straight at his madness and called it her home, nestled herself into the crevices of those sharp edges and taught him to look at himself and not run away. She looked at him as if he were the sun, the moon, the stars all at the same time and held him with such tenderness as if he'd break under her touch any second. And sometimes, he did break into shambles, reduced into nothing but dust. And every single time she was there to hold him, let him break in peace before helping him gather it all up once he was ready.

She didn't let him ask, she simply answered the questions that swirled in his mind without hesitation. “Other subjects require more work at the moment,” she explained “and what kind of friend, no, what kind of history nerd would I be if I didn't help them tackle the workload?”

He hasn't forgotten of course, that his little minx was an absolute sucker for history. It didn't matter what kind, Magic or Muggle history, she would devour it all the same. He still remembered one of their first interactions, both seated together at the back of the room in History of Magic, bored to death by Binns’ lecture before she turned to him and began to explain random historical facts about the subject. He’d listened intently, taking in every word like she was a preacher reading scripture and that had pretty much determined the course of their relationship for the years to come. Theo would sit and listen to her talk for hours, no exaggeration. She had that scatterbrained way of talking about everything and nothing, about writing ideas or books she'd been into, history or psychology or art or whatever other interest had captured her attention, revisiting memories or plans for the future for hours and hours on end. And Theo would sit right there, undivided attention as he listened to every word that spilled from lips.

So of course, it made sense she wouldn't pass up an opportunity to nerd out about her interest, especially if she got to help her friends with one fell swoop. Though the likes of Draco might whine and complain, all of them knew to appreciate her offers of help and support with any and all subjects. She made something as boring as History of Magic sound like the most interesting topic ever, so who would pass up a chance to let her help with coursework?

“Wanna explain it to me then, bella?” his face was nuzzled impossibly close into her neck, almost melting into it as he let her scent surround and calm him. He wouldn't usually be caught dead with such a blatant display of vulnerable affection, yet the day has rendered him weary and in need of her safety. Plus, it wasn't like those pesky first years would come over and disturb them, much less spare a glance into their general direction. It was an unspoken rule to never bother Theodore Nott or his girl if they were sitting in some secluded corner, even outside of the common room, lest you wanted to get in trouble that you'd never see the end of.

And so, Theo allowed himself to sink into her, melt away and leave behind all of his worries, all the weight he'd carried throughout the day and listen to her voice as she rambled on and on about history and her teaching endeavours. Occasionally, he'd throw in a question or a remark about something she'd said, causing her to fall silent in contemplation or to scribble away in her notes with that brilliant smile etched across her face, the one that rivaled every light source in the universe with it's brilliance and beauty.

He could feel his muscles relax, tension seeping out of his body as both his arms come to wrap around her waist, holding her closer until they were basically melting into eachother. Her rambling came to an abrupt stop and Theo grumbled as he looked up from her neck, silently questioning why she'd stopped talking. “Wanna go nap, darling?” the question caught him off guard, yet a quick glance to his watch indicated that they had about two and a half hours before dinner, perfect for a nap in his dorm. And really, what sort of madman would he be if he declined her request to spend time with him, away from preying eyes in the comfort of his bed?

He nodded in response, nudging her gently off his lap as he began to help her pack up her things before dragging her up the stairs to his dorm. The entire way, his hand never once left the small of her back and he felt that familiar haze return as his senses became clouded with her scent. Gods, he thanked everything that had caused her to delay her usual showering plans. Holding her in his arms when she smelled that divine after a long and exhausting day was a blessing in and out of itself. And when he felt her halt her steps, tugging his face down to meet hers, their lips connecting in a soft and tender kiss? Yeah, he could've melted right there and then.

With one hell of a love sick smile, he ushered her into his thankfully empty dorm room, her bag immediately discarded on the floor as he pushed her onto the bed. It was a short tangle of limbs and clothing before they both settled into the plush comfort. Theo laid atop her her chest, his arms wrapped around her midriff as her hands traced patterns and shapes across his neck and scalp. He wouldn't say it loud, never needed to do that with her anyway, but he enjoyed laying on her chest like that. Listening to her calming heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of her chest, and above all the sensation of her warm breathe fanning across his face? It turned him into a blissful mess every time, grateful that she was alive and real and that he got to hold and love her like that.

As if reading his thoughts once more, she gave his soft locks a gentle tug before leaning down to place a kiss on the top of his head

“I love you.”

“I love you too, cara mia.”

The sound of their breathe evened out as both of them slipped into blissful sleep, safe and comforted with the scent and warmth of one another.

[magic-shop-stories]

reader has to win the trust of bts back after losing it ?

💌 Reply:

hey, there🥺✨ first off, so sorry this took forever... I had so much to do and wanted to make sure each member’s HC's felt true to their heart but I wasn't sure how to write it - so I added a lot "reader parts" too - not sure if I said this right💔 But your request is now posted! THX for trusting me with it - I hope it's what you wanted... xo - c -

BTS (OT7) HEADCANONS - READER HAS TO WIN BACK TRUST

↳ BTS × READER

NAMJOON

WHAT HAPPENED

you’d been Namjoon’s confidant for years

you're the one he trusted to handle sensitive details about BTS’s collaborations

last-minute conflict arose with a producer

= missed deadline that risked delaying the album

you chose to bury it

believing you could fix it quietly

you didn’t want to add to his stress

producer called him directly, frustration sharp in their tone

Namjoon stood frozen in the hallway

phone clutched too tightly

realizing he’d been blindsided by someone he’d entrusted with his art

HIS REACTION

Immediate Response

doesn’t raise his voice

doesn’t need to

when he finds you, his posture is rigid

shoulders squared like he’s bracing for a storm

“We need to talk"

voice low and steady

knuckles white around the edge of his notebook

leads you to his studio

air smells like stale coffee and ink

Internal Monologue

Why? 

= loops in his mind like a broken track

replays every conversation you’ve had about transparency

he’d once said: “No secrets, even the ugly ones.”

is trust isn’t just emotional

it’s strategic

questions his own judgment

"Did I make you feel you couldn’t come to me? Or did you just… stop believing in us?"

Actions & Subtle Cues

Avoidance

stops lingering after meeting

When you speak, he nods

but types aggressively on his phone, thumb jabbing the screen

Hyperfocus

reorganizes his bookshelf at 3 a.m.

categorizing by genre and color

as if control over something might steady him

Lyrical Clues:

you find a crumpled draft in the trash: 

“A bridge half-built trust in the mortar but the rain came first.”

Dialogue

try to explain

“I thought I could handle it...”

cuts you off, tone glacial

“This isn’t about your capability. It’s about you deciding my limits for me.”

glasses slide down his nose

doesn’t push them back up

“Do you know how it feels? To stand there, unprepared, because someone you trusted… edited your reality?”

WHAT TO DO

Apology Letter

write it three times

first draft is tear-smudged and defensive

second is too clinical

third is raw

“I treated your trust like a shortcut instead of a compass. I’ll never do that again. Every day, I’ll prove I’m someone who deserves to walk beside you, not behind you.”

slip it into his copy of his favorite book

Silent Presence

show up to his late-night walks along the Han River

trailing 10 steps behind

he doesn’t turn around

but you catch him slowing his pace so you can keep up

compile a dossier of backup producers

annotated with strengths and risks

leave it on his desk

doesn’t thank you, but the next day, his coffee cup rests on top of it

ring-stain circling your notes like a stamp

Fallout

when the team argues about the delay = speak before he can

“It’s my fault. I’ll handle the rescheduling.”

watches you over the rim of his glasses

jaw tight, but doesn’t correct you

HIS RESPONSE

First Crack

two weeks later

he “accidentally” leaves his studio door open

hover in the doorway

he mutters

“If you’re coming in, at least fix the coffee. Two sugars, not one.”

his tone is gruff

nudges his mug toward you

= a peace offering in ceramic

Conversation

waits until you’re both knee-deep in lyric revisions

doesn't look at you

“You know what’s worse than a mistake? Silence.”

pen taps the paper

“I need your voice, not your silence. Even if it’s messy.”

Actions Speak Louder

starts texting you screenshots of vague, stressful emails with no context

= a test (Will you ask? Will you push?)

bring him a new plant to replace one he overwatered

names it “Phoenix”

places it where you both can see it

AFTERMATH

Rebuilding

trust returns in increments

lets you preview a solo track titled “Dichotomy"

= song about fractured trust and stubborn hope

during a VLIVE, he mentions “someone” who taught him forgiveness is a choice, not a feeling

doesn’t say your name

his dimple flickers

New Normal

still double-checks your work

now he leaves Post-its with questions instead of corrections

“What do you think?”  “Is this fair to us?”

realize it’s his way of saying: “I need you here. Stay.”

Final

months later, at 2 a.m., he calls you

“Can’t sleep. Let’s walk.”

you're at the river

hands you a poem he’s written

lines crossed out and rewritten

one phrase remains untouched:

“You are my flawed, necessary mirror... breakable, but brighter for the cracks.”

you glance at him

he’s staring at the water

his pinky finger brushes yours

JIN

WHAT HAPPENED

Jin had spent weeks planning a special dinner for the group

= a way to celebrate Yoongi’s birthday and lift morale after a draining promo cycle

he’d confided in you

voice uncharacteristically soft

“I want it to feel like home. No managers, no cameras. Just us.”

you promised to handle the setup

= decorating the dorm, hiding gifts, and most importantly, distracting Yoongi until the surprise was ready

but you got swept up in a last-minute fan event

lost track of time, arrived two hours late

dinner was ruined

Yoongi walked into a half-decorated room

Jin scrambling with cold tteokbokki and deflated balloons

HIS REACTION

Immediate Response

laughs, loudly

claps his hands like it’s all a hilarious joke

“Wow, this is a twist! Who needs surprises when you can have… uh… spontaneity?”

his ears burn red

won’t meet your eyes

Yoongi quietly says: “Hyung, it’s okay.”

Jin’s smile cracks

disappears into the kitchen

sound of aggressive dishwashing fills the dorm

Internal Monologue

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

replays the hours he spent marinating the meat

or the way he’d practiced Yoongi’s favorite childhood dish three times to get it right

even wor his “Worldwide Handsome” apron unironically

he feels foolish

not just let down, but exposed

his vulnerability is a raw nerve

Do they think I’m just the clown? That my efforts don’t matter?

Actions & Subtle Cues

Deflection

next day, he jokes to Jungkook

“Guess I’ll stick to gaming! At least my teammates show up.”

his voice lacks its usual lilt

Avoidance

stops initiating movie nights

you bring up his new cooking video = he shrugs

“Eh, it’s just content. Doesn’t need to be perfect.”

Overcompensation

gifts Yoongi an absurdly expensive bottle of alcohol “just because”

refusing to acknowledge the birthday disaster

Dialogue

catch him alone

chopping vegetables with unnecessary force

“I’m so sorry...”

he interrupts, waving the knife like a prop

“Relax! It’s not a big deal. Yoongi prefers takeout anyway.”

his hand trembles slightly

nicks his finger

sucks the blood away, muttering

“See? I’m fine. Always fine.”

WHAT TO DO

Apology

he’d never accept a tearful plea

drag him to a private karaoke room

order his favorite snacks

with zero shamebelt “Epiphany” off-key

he cringes, laughing

“You’re not just ‘the funny one.’ You’re our glue. And I treated your heart like a punchline. I won’t do it again.”

Feed His Love (Literally)

learn his mother’s kimchi recipe through trial and error

first batch is inedible

you leave it at his door with a note

“Round 1: deserves better. I’ll keep trying.”

every Friday, you bring him homemade broth

rolls his eyes but starts leaving empty Tupperware outside your room

Public Acknowledgment

next group dinner, raise your glass

“Jin planned this whole night. He’s the reason we’re family.”

kicks you under the table, cheeks pink

later texts: “That was… not terrible.”

HIS RESPONSE

First Thaw

“accidentally” buys two tickets to a comedy show

“Ugh, someone bailed. You wanna go? Don’t make it weird.”

during the show, he snorts so hard he spills popcorn

for a moment, his shoulder brushes yours

Late-Night Confession

find him on the balcony at 1 a.m.

he's staring at the city lights

“You know why I cook? It’s the one thing I can control. The one way I know… I’m needed.”

flicks your forehead

“But you? You’re not allowed to need me until you prove you’ll stay.”

Actions Speak Louder

starts texting you ridiculous memes at 3 a.m.,

gift him a custom apron embroidered with “World’s Okayest Chef”

wears it for a live stream

“A fan sent it!”

lies, winking at the camera

AFTERMATH

Rebuilding

trust returns in layers

lets you assist with his next cooking video

you burn the rice

he laughs genuinely, eyes crinkling

“Wow, you’re worse than Namjoon!”

confides his anxiety about enlisting

“Don’t let them eat junk every day.”

pretending it’s a joke

= it’s a plea: Take care of them. Take care of me

New Normal

still teases you mercilessly

but there’s a softness now

saves you the last piece of steak, grumbling

“You look too skinny.”

when you’re late again (traffic, this time), he meets you at the door with a smirk

“I started without you. But… I saved the best part.”

Final

you recreate his failed dinner, perfectly

walks in, sees the table set with his fancy dishes, and groans

“Yah, you’re so extra!”

his voice cracks

later, pulls you aside

“You did good."

flicking your ear

“But never outshine me again, okay?”

YOONGI

WHAT HAPPENED

Yoongi had been working on a deeply personal mixtape

one he’d described as “pulling bones out of my ribs to make something alive”

you were his sounding board

= the only person he played raw tracks for

= the one he trusted to guard his unfinished art

during a late-night studio session (frustrated by his perfectionism) you vented to a mutual friend

“He’s never gonna release it. It’s just… self-sabotage.”

friend, trying to “help,” leaked a snippet online to “motivate” him

the clip went viral

dissected by fans and critics before Yoongi even knew it existed online

HIS REACTION

Immediate Response

finds out via Twitter

stares at his phone for minutes

jaw clenched so tightly a muscle twitches in his cheek

he stands, walks to the studio bathroom, and slams the door

emerges, his face is damp

sleeves rolled up to hide trembling hands

doesn’t look at you

Internal Monologue

Idiot. You trusted an idiot

betrayal isn’t just emotional = it’s artistic

track was a confession

= a scream he hadn’t finished shaping

now it’s reduced to a meme (and a TikTok trend)

wonders if you meant to undermine him

Did you think I was weak? That I needed saving from myself?

Actions & Subtle Cues

Locked Doors

studio is off-limits

changes the passcode

when you knock, he blasts Agust D’s “The Last” until you leave

Professional Detachment

in group meetings, he refers to you as “the team” instead of your name

signs emails with a curt - Min Yoongi

Self-Isolation

sleeps in the studio

surviving on iced Americanos and protein bars

only hint of anger = a dent in the wall where he kicked it

hidden behind a poster of Nujabes

Dialogue

catch him at dawn

shadows under his eyes

“Yoongi, I'm...”

cuts you off

voice gravelly from sleeplessness

“Save it. You don’t get to apologize for my work.”

steps closer

for the first time, you see raw hurt beneath the ice

“That track was mine. Mine. And you turned it into content.”

WHAT TO DO

Radical Accountability

no excuses

write a public statement taking full blame

refuse to name the friend

post it without consulting him

he’ll see it

he sees everything

don’t tag him

don’t beg for absolution

Unseen Support

handle the fallout silently

compile legal docs for copyright claims

scrub leaked snippets from forums until your eyes burn

send the files to his manager, not him

leave a USB drive outside his door with two playlists

Track 1: “Anger” (Hip-hop beats, distorted guitars, lyrics about betrayal)

Track 2: “Regret” (Piano covers of First Love, rain sounds, a 10-second voice note: “I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger”)

Earned Silence

stop talking about the incident

show up instea

bring his favorite iced tea every morning, placing it by the studio door

he finally emerges

gaunt and disheveled

wordlessly hand him a clean hoodie

HIS RESPONSE

First Thaw

a week later

leaves the studio door cracked

inside, the USB drive is plugged into his laptop

“Regret” playlist on loop

doesn’t acknowledge you

but when you set down his coffee, he grunts

“Sugar. Two packets.”

Test

assigns you a mind-numbing task

= transcribing 12 hours of old voice memos

“If you’re so loyal, prove it.”

find notes buried in the file

“2017. Bad day. [Your name] brought tteokbokki"

= realize it’s a twisted olive branch.

Breaking Point

at 3 a.m.

finds you asleep at your desk

headphones still on

hesitates, then drapes his jacket over your shoulders

next day, he slides a scrap of paper toward you

“Fix the second verse. It’s shit.” 

lyrics? 

“A thief in the temple but the god left the door open.”

AFTERMATH

Rebuilding:

trust is a slow remix

lets you back into the studio

you sit against the wall, not beside him

first time you critique a track

he pauses

“Louder. I can’t hear you over the bass.”

releases the mixtape with a new title = “Daechwita (Reborn).” 

leaked snippet is now a distorted intro

fans call it genius

only you know it’s a middle finger to the past

New Normal

never says “I forgive you.”

but throws his empty coffee cups at you (affectionately)

you flinch at a loud noise

“Relax. I don’t waste kicks on idiots anymore.”

Final

months later

tosses you a flash drive

“New track. Don’t fuck it up.”

file is titled “Interlude: Bones Mend.”

lyrics include a line from your voice note

autotuned and woven into the chorus

he’s smirking at his screen

“What? It’s just a sample.”

J-HOPE

WHAT HAPPENED

you’d been Hobi’s dance partner for a high-stakes solo performance at an awards show

= a routine he’d spent months choreographing

blending his signature energy with intricate & emotionally charged moves

during rehearsals, you hid a sprained ankle

downing painkillers and laughing off his concerned glances

“I’m fine, Hobi! Let’s go again!”

you didn’t want to disappoint him

during the final rehearsal, your ankle gave out mid-jump

sending both of you crashing to the floor

the silence that followed was worse than the pain

HIS REACTION

Immediate Response

doesn’t yell

doesn’t even look at you

he stands slowly

dusts off his pants

walks to the corner of the studio

hands shake as he rewinds the music

when he finally speaks, his voice is eerily calm

“We’re done for today.”

Internal Monologue

Why didn’t you tell me? 

he’s furious

not at the mistake, but at the lie

prides himself on reading people = on being the someone who notices everything

now, he wonders

Did I push too hard? Or did you never trust me to care?

he blames himself

This is my fault. I should’ve seen it

Actions & Subtle Cues

Professional Mode Activated

switches to honorifics

“Please ensure [Reader]-ssi consults a physiotherapist.”

no more “Hey, superstar!"

no playful shoulder bumps.

Overcompensation

rehearses alone for hours

blasting music loud enough to drown out his thoughts

studio mirror fogs with swea

his reflection blurry and furious

Avoiding Eye Contact

during group dinners, he sits diagonally from you

laughing too loudly at Jin’s joke

when you speak, he stares at his rice like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world

Dialogue

catch him after practice

voice trembling

“Hobi, I’m so sorry...”

cuts you off with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes

“No, I’m sorry! Clearly, I didn’t create a safe space for you to be honest. My bad!”

bows slightly

= parody of politeness

he's walking away

WHAT TO DO

Public Accountability

next team meeting, stand up before he can speak

“I lied to Hoseok. I put our performance at risk because I was scared to admit I was struggling.”

your voice cracks, but you push through

“I’ll earn back his trust, even if it takes years.”

Hobi stares at his sneakers

jaw clenched

he doesn’t interrupt

Match His Effort

Choreo Notebook

transcribe every step of the routine by hand

add notes on breath control and emotional intent

leave it on his desk with a single Post-it

“You deserved this.”

Sunrise Vigils

send him a photo every dawn

= your ankle taped, you mid-stretc

captions like “Day 7: Ready to follow your lead.”

he never replies

after two weeks, he “accidentally” leaves his favorite coffee brand on your desk

Silent Support

attend every practice

even when sidelined

he stumbles during a spin

=you’re the first to clap

“Again, Hobi! You’ve got this!”

he freezes

then repeats the move perfectly

refusing to look at you

HIS RESPONSE

Breaking Point

find him slumped against the studio mirror, head in hands

music’s off, but his foot taps an anxious rhythm

he whispers

“Why’d you do it? I thought we were a team.”

sit beside him

not touching

“I wanted to be someone you could rely on… but I messed up.”

he laughs wetly

“You idiot. I rely on you because you’re human. Not in spite of it.”

Actions Speak Louder

Playlist

sends you a Spotify link titled “HYBE’s Newest Torture Methods”

= a mix of aggressive hip-hop and ballads

Duo Practices

reinstates your sessions but starts with trust falls

“You fall, I catch. Always.”

hands linger on your shoulders a beat too long

AFTERMATH

Rebuilding

trust returns in shared sweat and shaky laughter

assigns you the killing part in a new choreo

watches your ankles like a hawk

when you nail it, he whoops

“That’s my partner!"

blushes and pretends to check his phone

during a VLIVE, a fan asks about teamwork

“It’s like… dancing in the rain. You gotta hold hands so no one slips.”

doesn’t look at you

his sneaker nudges yours under the table

New Normal

he’s softer but vigilant

when you yawn, he throws a protein bar at your head

“Eat. Now.”

when you grimace during stretches, he’s there before you can speak

“Ankle? Wrist? Talk.”

Final

at the rescheduled performance, he grabs your hand backstage

“Ready?”

palm is sweaty, but his grin is real

mid-routine, he improvises a move

a leap toward you, arms wide

you catch him on beat

“Thanks for staying”

JIMIN

WHAT HAPPENED

Jimin spent weeks preparing for his first solo stage performance in years

including contemporary dance piece about vulnerability

he confided in you about how terrified he was

you promised you’d be there front-row to watch

on the day of the show, you missed it

work emergency/ miscommunication? = 8t didn’t matter

there was crushing silence when he scanned the audience for your face

later saw your texts: “Something came up, I’m so sorry”

he crumpled his bouquet backstage

HIS REACTION

Immediate Response

doesn’t yell

Jimin never yells

tho wraps himself in a practiced calm

= like a silk scarf pulled too tight

you finally meet a day later

his smile is flawless

his voice is hollow

“It’s okay. These things happen.”

calls you “y/n-ssi” instead of your usual nickname

the distance sharp as a blade

Internal Monologue

Why wasn’t I enough? 

replays every time he’s felt abandoned

= his trainee days, the times he’d practiced until his feet bled

wonders if you see him the same way as people before he became famous

blames himself for expecting too much (for letting you matter that deeply)

Actions & Subtle Cues

Polite Avoidance

stops initiating late-night calls

at group dinners, he sits diagonally from you

always laughing a beat too loud at others’ jokes

Overcompensation

volunteers for extra rehearsals

dances until his ankles swell

posts cryptic Instagram stories: “Alone but not lonely 🌙” 

Fragile Deflection

bring up the performance?

he shrugs

“It was just a dance. You didn’t miss much.”

his hands tremble as he stirs his tea

Dialogue

catch him after practice

sweat dripping down his neck

“Jimin, please... let me explain.”

he freezes, back still turned

“What’s there to explain? You chose something else. I get it.”

voice cracks on the last word

“Just… don’t make promises you can’t keep, okay? It’s exhausting.”

WHAT TO DO

Radical Honesty

write him a letter

not with excuses

with ugly truths leave it in his dance bag

Unseen Support

film his rehearsals from the back of the studio when he thinks no one’s watching

edit the clips into a montage of his progress

set them to his favorite piano piece

send it anonymously

buy every vitamin drink he likes and stock the fridge with them

he raises an eyebrow?

“The staff did it.”

knows you’re lying but drinks them anyway

Patient Presence

start arriving early to his schedules

sit in the parking lot with his preferred iced americano

he gives them to staff at first

then, one day takes a sip

“Too much ice.”

next morning, the coffee has half the ice

HIS RESPONSE

Breaking Point

two weeks in

corners you in an empty hallway

his eyes are red-rimmed, fists clenched

“Why now? Why bother?”

voice trembling

“Do you know how long I stood there after the show? I waited like an idiot, thinking… maybe you’d run in, maybe you’d...”

cuts himself off

throat bobbing

Reconciliation

don’t reach for him

just tell him: “I’ll wait as long as you did. Longer.”

he will crumble then

forehead pressed to your shoulder

tears soaking your shirt

“You hurt me,”

he chokes it out

“You promised.”

hold him as he shakes

"I know. I’m here. However long it takes.”

Actions Speak Louder

starts leaving his studio door cracked open

you hear him humming your favorite song

= a test but you knock

“forgets” his sweater at your place

you return it?

he says, “Keep it. It looks better on you.”

AFTERMATH

Rebuilding

trust returns in fragile, beautiful steps

invites you to a private rehearsal

new choreography= raw, angry, then tender

= a story of betrayal and hesitant hope

you’re the only audience

texts you at 3 a.m.

“Can’t sleep. Tell me something real.” 

reply with a voice note of your insecurities

ge sends back a 10-second clip of his heartbeat

= recorded against his chest

New Normal

he’s clingier now

it’s tinged with fear

he’ll grip your hand too tight before going onstage

“You’ll stay?”

answer by pressing his VIP pass into your palm until it leaves a mark

Final

months later, he books the same theater for a new piece

this time, you’re backstage

holding his hands as they tremble

“Look at me, if I fall… don’t let go.”

you don’t

when he bows, flushed and breathless, he mouths: “You’re here” 

TAEHYUNG

WHAT HAPPENED

he had been working on a photography series for months

capturing fleeting moments of human connection

=a project he called "Eternal Ephemera."

invited you to his private exhibition

= a deeply personal showcase he’d only shared with a few

you canceled last minute, citing a work emergency

the truth?

you forgot, prioritizing a casual hangout with friends

he texted you a photo of his empty guest seat

caption: “Guess some moments aren’t eternal” 

you brushed it off, joking

“Next time, Tae! You know I’m your biggest fan.” 

days later, you stumbled on his Instagram story

= a close-up of a wilting rose

quote: “The loneliest feeling is sharing your soul with someone who chooses not to see it.”

HIS REACTION

Immediate Response

doesn’t confront you

he becomes a ghost in your shared space

his laughter, usually loud and boxy, is replaced by silence

when you try to apologize, he tilts his head

eyes unreadable behind his round glasses

“Hmm? Oh, that. It’s fine." 

voice airy

his smile doesn’t reach his cheeks

Internal Monologue

Why didn’t you care? 

replays your promises

“I’ll always be there for your art, Tae”

wonders if he romanticized your bond

camera becomes his confidant

= takes photos of empty chairs, shattered mirrors, lone footsteps in snow

Actions & Subtle Cues

Artistic Retreat

disappears into his studio for hours

blasting Chet Baker

the door, usually open, stays shut

Fashion Armor

wears oversized coats and berets pulled low

hiding his face

you compliment his outfit?

he mutters

“Clothes don’t lie."

walks away

Cryptic Posts

Instagram fills with abstract edits

=a blurred figure walking away, a burning photo frame

captions are poetry fragments: 

“Seeds planted in concrete / you watered the wrong roots.”

Dialogue

catch him feeding Yeontan outside

“Tae, let’s talk...”

interrupts you

voice soft but sharp

“What’s there to say? You saw my heart and called it… what? A hobby?” 

adjusts Yeontan’s sweater

avoiding your gaze

“Not everyone understands art. I get it.

WHAT TO DO

Unspoken Apology

create a photo series

titled “What I Failed to See.” 

each photo captures a detail Taehyung loves

leave a USB drive in his mailbox with no note

Patient Curiosity

attend a jazz bar he loves

sitting alone at the bar

he notices you, you don’t speak

slide a Polaroid across the table

= a shot of his favorite street musician

captioned “He plays your song better when you’re here.”

learn film photography

burning through rolls of failed shots

he finds your discarded negatives

he sees dozens of attempts to capture light the way he does

Space to Speak

at a group dinner, someone jokes about “artsy types being too sensitive.” 

you shut it down

“Art’s how some people breathe. Mock that, and you suffocate them.” 

Taehyung’s chopsticks pause mid-air, then drop

HIS RESPONSE

First Thaw

leaves a single photo on your desk

=a shot of your USB drive sitting beside his keyboard

back reads: “Exposure time: 7 days. Still processing.”

Conversation

finds you crying in the darkroom

surrounded by botched prints

“You’re wasting film.”

his voice is gentle

guides your hands to adjust the enlarger

“Light isn’t something you force. It’s something you… wait for.”

Actions Speak Louder

texts you a location pin at 4 a.m.

= an abandoned train yard

you arrive - he’s silhouetted against sunrise, camera in hand

“You frame the shot” 

he's pressing the camera into your palms

“Show me what you see now.”

gifts you a scratched vinyl record

“Kind of Blue” by Miles Davis

scrawled on the sleeve: “Some harmonies take time to tune.”

AFTERMATH

Rebuilding

trust returns in stolen moments

lets you name his new photography series

“F/1.8 (Fragile Hearts, Infinite Depth).”

during a V LIVE, he plays your jazz Polaroid on screen

he smiles, tilting his head

“A reminder that even broken lenses can focus… if you let them.”

New Normal

he tests you subtly

leaves half-developed film in your bag

“Finish this story.”

asks for your opinion on his outfits

but only in metaphors

“Does this color sound like regret or rebirth?”

Final Scene

invites you to a gallery months later

= his “Eternal Ephemera” reprise

final photo is you

standing in the rain outside the jazz bar, holding his forgotten umbrella

caption: “Ephemeral? Maybe. But the developing process… that’s forever.” 

you turn to him

he’s already looking, eyes glinting

“You stayed in the darkroom long enough to see the image. That’s all I needed.”

JUNGKOOK

WHAT HAPPENED

you’d been Jungkook’s closest friend since pre-debut

= the one he trusted with memories he’d never shared with anyone else

= like the panic attacks he’d hidden during trainee days, or the crumpled letter he wrote his parents apologizing for “chasing a dream instead of being a good son”

on the anniversary of his trainee contract, he’d asked you to meet him at Namsan Tower at sunrise

a tradition you’d kept since 2013

but you canceled last-minute for a work emergency

dismissing it as “just another sunrise”

when he confided his fears about enlisting, you accidentally leaked the conversation to a mutual friend

rumor spread, and he heard it from a staff member first

HIS REACTION

Immediate Response

doesn’t confront you

he stops showing up

his texts go from sporadic to silent

you finally corner him after practice

he’s drenched in sweat

punching a bag with violent precision

“Not now”

voice flat

his yes are red-rimmed

he blames it on exhaustion

Internal Monologue

You promised. 

those words loop in his head like a curse

replays every moment he’d leaned on you

= the night he cried over a vocal mistake, the time he gave you his childhood bracelet “for safekeeping.”

wonders if you ever took him seriously

or if you saw him as just the “golden maknae"

=too naive to need real loyalty

Maybe I trusted too much

he's biting his lip until it bleeds

Actions & Subtle Cues

Isolation

starts arriving early to the gym

leaves late

when you wave, he pretends to adjust his AirPods

Overcompensation

posts Instagram stories of solo hikes at sunrise

captioned “Self-reliance mode 🔒.”

Artistic Outlet

sketches a charcoal drawing of a broken chain

tags it “#growth.”

Dialogue

catch him after a concert

desperate

“JK, please, let me explain.”

he freezes, back still turned

“You know what sucks? I��still want to believe you.”

his voice cracks

“But I can’t even look at you without feeling… stupid.”

WHAT TO DO

Relentless Consistency

text him every morning

“6:15 a.m. — at the trailhead if you want company.”

he never replies

on Day 12, he’s there

hoodie pulled low

walks three paces ahead

but doesn’t tell you to leave

learn the choreography for his solo song

practice until your knees bruise

he walks in on you panting

“Teach me?”

rolls his eyes but adjusts your stance

hands lingering a second too long

Tangible Penance

track down his childhood bracelet (lost years ago) and restore it

add a new charm

= a tiny shield engraved with the date you met

leave it in his locker with a note

“I’ll earn the right to hold this again.”

his enlistment rumors flare up?

you publicly take the blame on Weverse

“I broke his trust. Redirect your anger to me.” 

he deletes the post within minutes but doesn’t text you

Rebuild Nostalgia

recreate your first hangout

= arcade games and strawberry/banana milk

scoffs when you beat his racing score

“Beginner’s luck.”

he pockets the prize ticket you win for him

send him voice notes of old inside jokes

like the way he mispronounced “sarcasm”

he listens on repeat but never reacts

HIS RESPONSE

Breaking Point

one rainy night

you find him sitting alone in the practice room

he's replaying a clip of your first dance cover together

he’s shivering in a damp shirt

“Why’d you come back?”

you kneel beside him

“Because you’re my home.”

he laughs bitterly

“Homes don’t lie.”

he doesn’t pull away when you drape your jacket over his shoulders

Turning Tide

two days later, he texts

“Trailhead. 6:15.” 

when you arrive, he tosses you a protein bar

= your favorite flavor

“Don’t faint. I’m not carrying you.”

halfway up the trail, he mutters: “I kept the bracelet.”

Actions Speak Loudest

starts leaving his AirPods case in your ba

= silent invitation to join his walks

during a live stream, a fan asks about trust

he hesitates

then says: “It’s like… doing a trust fall every day. Even when you’re scared.”

his eyes flick offscreen to where you’re standing

AFTERMATH

Rebuilding

he tests you

asks you to hold his phone during a night out

watches to see if you glance at his notifications

you don’t

lets you back into his studio

but only if you sit cross-legged in the corner

“Don’t touch anything.”

weeks later, he slides you a lyric sheet

“Forgiveness is a tattoo... hurts like hell, but you wear it anyway.”

New Normal

he’s clingy in private

possessive in public

links arms with you too tightly at events

like he’s afraid you’ll vanish

he also shares secrets again

shows you demos he calls “too raw for anyone else.”

Final

next anniversary, he wakes you at 4 a.m.

“Namsan. Now.”

at the summit, he clips the restored bracelet onto your wrist

“If you lose it again...”

he warns, but his thumbs brush your pulse point

as the sun rises, he whispers: “You’re still my star. Even when you’re an idiot.”

[luna-azzurra]

Hello Darl' 🩷

I just started writing and am facing an issue w the description. Like the books I read describe things, emotions, and like everything so well. They're so well written. Whereas I just can't . It's so hard to actually describe such elements and that bothers me a lot. I can read but I still feel inadequate. Could you please guide me?

Thankyouuu 🫂

Oh, my dear, first of all... Welcome to the Writers World! And second, please, please, please don’t be so hard on yourself. The fact that you’re even noticing and caring about description means you’re already a step ahead of so many writers.

Every writer struggles with this at first. Every single one. The books you read, the ones that feel so effortlessly beautiful? The authors didn’t just wake up and pour out perfect words on the first try. They rewrote, revised, and sculpted those descriptions until they felt right. And that’s exactly what you’re going to do too.

I get it, you feel like you can’t describe things the way you want to. But I promise, you can. You just haven’t figured out how your voice works yet, and that’s okay. In fact you don’t have to write long, poetic descriptions right away. Start with the basics and layer in details as you go. Instead of trying to describe an entire scene perfectly in one go, think about one sense at a time, what does the character see? Hear? Feel? Smell? Taste?

Instead of: The rain poured heavily, making everything look dark and depressing.

Try: Raindrops snaked down the window, blurring the city lights into a watercolor mess. The air smelled sharp, like wet pavement and cold wind.

Ande one of the best ways to make descriptions more vivid is to compare things to something familiar. Your brain already does this naturally... when you see a new color, you don’t think “Oh, that’s a mix of blue and green with a slight yellow tint”, no, you think “Oh, that looks like seafoam”. Use that in your writing!

Instead of: She was nervous.

Try: Her stomach twisted like a phone cord, all tangled and knotted.

And if you’re struggling to describe emotions, think about times you’ve felt them yourself. What did anxiety feel like last time you had it? What does happiness physically do to you? Does your chest feel lighter? Does your breath come easier? These tiny details will make your descriptions feel more authentic. For Example something like that...

Instead of: He was furious.

Try: His jaw locked so tight it ached. His hands curled into fists, nails biting into his palms, but still, he swallowed the words burning at the back of his throat.

Writing is a skill. Just like playing an instrument or painting, it takes time. The fact that it feels hard right now, just means you’re learning. And I promise, if you keep going, if you let yourself practice without expecting perfection, it will get easier.

So please, don’t let this frustration stop you. The only difference between you and the authors you admire is they kept writing. And you’re already on your way. 💛✨

[0cta9on]

One Year of 0cta9on

Hello everyone! :]

Today marks exactly a year since I debuted as a writer! In an ideal world, I would’ve had some crazy story planned for today, but my current circumstances didn’t allow for that, so enjoy this semi-sappy yap session instead :>

I started writing during a particularly low point in my life where my mental health was in the gutters and I had an insane amount of free time. I’ve always liked imagining stories in my head, so the next obvious step was to start writing those stories down. Hence, 0cta9on was born :]

Channeling my energy into something creative provided me with a distraction from all the things that weighed on my mind and become a source of joy for me. While I know I’m not the best or most well-known writer in this community, seeing even a single comment on my work fills me with such an unexplainable amount of joy. To know that there’s people out there that enjoy the silly little stories I put out is genuinely insane in the best way possible <3

Since I’m mainly a fluff writer, I wasn’t sure what other writers in this community would think of me. But my worries were almost immediately quelled when I first joined the writer discord and became friends with a bunch of amazingly talented writers. Shout out to @msafterhours, @writerpeach, @octoberautumnbox, @gangplanksorenji, @prael, @kooyabooya, @okaylikeschaewon, @mintwithchoco, @defmaybe, @sinswithpleasure, @midnightdancingsol, @capslocked, @svndaysaweek, @usedpidemo, and of course many, many more for being so kind and welcoming <3

Recap of my past year of writing:

Wrote 8 chapters of Unlikely Duet, my cute little slice-of-life romance series starring best girl, Minji <3 Chapter 8 is the longest piece I’ve written so far at +18k words!

First Snow was the first fluff one shot I made. Rough around the edges, but we all start somewhere.

Beach Day and Good Idea were my first attempts at writing smut and they are… alright, I guess :> Part of me wants to go back and revise them, but I barely have the time and motivation to work on new drafts ;[

Masterpiece is still probably my favorite fluff one shot I’ve written so far, and while it’s not the best written by any means, I still really like how it turned out :]

FFF2+4 and Train Ride to Heaven for me marked the start of when I started becoming more comfortable writing smut. I’m still not that great, but it’s fun and I think that’s all that counts for me :]

Stuck with You was the first commission I ever did! Writing someone else’s idea is always difficult, but I’m glad the buyer liked the final product :]

Stroke of Luck was the first time I ever wrote a threesome. I think it went okay :>

Wrote And We Danced and Sunscreen for a fun prompt challenge hosted in the writer’s discord (You can thank @mintwithchoco and @msafterhours for these <3). The latter ended up turning into a quaint little mini series :]

Lessons was my second ever commission and my first attempt at femdom. While femdom isn’t really my thing, it was a fun challenge writing about something new and I really like the little gimmick I threw in there :]

I wrote Today, like, two days ago at 1am without much revising or editing (Shoutout @defmaybe for reading through it before I released <3). Go read it if you haven’t yet pls n thenk yew :>

Wrote 15 shorts from ideas submitted by you guys! Some of my favorite stories I’ve written have been shorts and they’re always nice when I’m low on ideas :]

While I likely won’t have anything out for a while, I think it’d be fun to pull back the curtain a little bit and hint at what I’ve been working on :]

🐰🦋// She’s just your coworker. Just that. Nothing else.

🐻👖// It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?!

🍁✨// Upcoming New Variety Show: Fan Date! Episode 1, starring [REDACTED]

🍔🧀// Time changes, but summer stays the same

I’ve run out of things to talk about, so this concludes my one year anniversary post :> Despite my unplanned and prolonged hiatus, I want y’all to know that I do NOT plan on retiring anytime soon. I have so many stories I still want to tell, whether you like it or not >:]

Have a good day/night and I love yall <3 Have a Minji :]

[xcherryerim]

Si tú me quisieras

(If you loved me)

Mike schmidt x Gn!reader | wc: 2.2k

“Si tú me quisieras, el amor que quisieras lo tendrías conmigo. No soy cursilera, pero si me quisieras, sería todo distinto” — Si tú me quisieras by Nia Vanie & Adrian Bello

Warning: Friends to lovers | Sappy | angst and fluff (?) | mentions of sex | fighting | a bit of aggressive Mike

notes: it seems like I love writing sappy stuff for Mike at 1-4 am. I didn’t really revise this so sorry if there is many mistakes or repeated words ✨ Also the lyrics in this story is the same as the one from the intro (and yes. Mike knows spanish here)

Summary: As time goes by, it becomes increasingly difficult for Mike not to hide the secrets that are troubling him. He has had enough and decides to reveal his feelings to you, his best friend.

You caught sight of Mike wearing the same shade of sage green shirt you were wearing. With a deep breath, you called out to him, "No, no! Change, please. That's too much of a coincidence!”

Mike sighed heavily, slamming the car door shut behind him. His eyes narrowed, frustration etched onto his face. "Can you give me a break? This is the only clean shirt I have left!"

Reluctantly, you let out a frustrated groan. It wasn't about the shirt or the coincidences; it was about how deeply it affected you every time he wore that particular color. But you knew pushing him further wouldn't solve anything. So instead, you relented, "Fine, fine."

Why does it matter anyway?" he asked, increasing the volume of the radio in an attempt to cover up his unease.

Your fingers tightened around the steering wheel as you tried to explain your concern. "Because people are going to think we're a couple,"

Mike couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. He had been hoping that today would be the day when you finally noticed him in the way he wanted you to. But here he was.

“But like, we aren’t so it doesn't matter, does it?”

“I guess.” You shrugged.

You started to suggest what movie to watch at the end of the day. A little tradition you guys did after running errands together, but Mike was staring at the street, drowning in his thoughts. Did you hate the idea of dating him that much?

“No hay nada que pueda hacer que me veas, y eso me duele tanto. Y aunque tú no me quieras como yo te quiero yo te seguiré amando.” / “There's nothing I can do to make you look at me, and that breaks me. Even if you don’t love me like I love you, I'll still adore you.”

"Isn't this the song that you like, Mike?" you asked, a small smile forming on your lips.

Mike's response was quiet and subdued. "Uh, yeah."

He didn't like the song, not really. He related to it, to every verse, word, and beat. It was a reflection of his feelings, a mirror to his unspoken thoughts and emotions. The lyrics echoed through the car, resonating with both of you in different ways.

“Dicen que de amor nadie se muere, pero si este dolor es la alternativa, prefiero la muerte” / “They say no one dies out of love, but if this pain is the alternative, I rather die.”

Mike sat silently next to you, the strum of guitar strings and the singer's melodic voice echoing throughout the car. A wave of disappointment washed over him, making the atmosphere in the vehicle almost suffocating. You could sense his discomfort, but you pressed on, trying to stay focused on the road ahead.

“Te estoy amando aunque no te diga nada. Estoy guardando este secreto para mí en el fondo de mi alma. Si tú me quisieras, no perdería ni un minuto más. Me entregaría con sinceridad, si te quedas conmigo.” / “I'm loving you even if I keep quiet. I’m keeping this secret in the depths of my soul. If you loved me, I wouldn't lose another minute more. I’ll sincerely give myself to you, if you stay with me.”

…

Feeling the need to intervene, Mike quickly stepped in to assist an elderly woman who was struggling to reach for a specific medicine. "Oh, let me help with that," he said, his voice filled with genuine kindness. As he handed her the item she needed, a warm smile spread across his lips, and you couldn't help but feel proud of his compassionate nature.

The woman thanked him graciously, her eyes twinkling with gratitude. "Thank you, sweetheart," she said, her gaze shifting between you both. "You two look like a nice couple. It reminds me of when my late husband and I used to go shopping together."

A sudden flush crept up your cheeks as the weight of her words settled upon the both of you. You knew it wasn't intentional, but the implication made your heart race faster than it should. Swallowing hard, you felt the need to clarify things.

"We're not a couple," you quickly replied, your voice tinged with slight awkwardness. The heat from your blush radiated outward, an audible confession of your true feelings.

Mike smiled gently at you, his eyes dancing with a mix of mirth and sadness. "Definitely not a couple," he affirmed, a hint of longing lurking beneath the surface.

As he turned to face you, he couldn't help but notice the defensive posture you took, your arms firmly crossed over your chest. Was there pain in your eyes? No, it couldn't be. He pushed the thought aside, choosing to focus on the present moment.

"Well, you seem pretty insulted by that," he remarked casually, attempting to shift the topic away from the elephant in the room.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “What? I’m not good enough for you?” Your words were laced with humor, but the underlying emotion was undeniable. There was a yearning, a desire for something more.

Mike sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he shook his head. "We are not having this conversation again," he stated firmly. Today, he simply couldn't muster the energy for the friendly flirtation that had become a routine between the two of you.

The innocent, fun activity of grocery shopping quickly transformed into something far more uncomfortable between the two of you. The mood had shifted dramatically, leaving behind a heavy silence that seemed to grow more oppressive with every passing second.

Mike could no longer mask his emotions – his face bore the unmistakable signs of anger, complete with furrowed eyebrows and heavy breathing. His movements became more forceful as he tossed items into the cart, each action an expression of the tumultuous emotions churning within him.

Unable to bear the tension any longer, you hesitantly asked, "Are you alright?" The question hung in the air, seemingly adding fuel to the fire. The guilt you felt for asking it gnawed at your insides, knowing that you might have only exacerbated the situation.

Mike glared at you, his dark eyes flashing with hurt and resentment. At that moment, he couldn't bring himself to answer your question.

As you tried to find a way to bridge the gap, you couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the last straw in maintaining the delicate balance of your friendship. For years, the two of you had shared laughter, tears, and dreams, but now you stood on the precipice of something unfamiliar and uncertain.

…

To lighten the mood, you attempted a weak joke, "Where else, boss?" but it fell flat in the wake of the tension between the two of you.

Mike provided a terse response, focusing on giving directions to Walmart without acknowledging your attempt at humor. "I need to get a few things for Abby, she's doing a project for school," he said, buckling his seatbelt.

Attempting to ignore the growing discord, you asked, "Oh, are there any close by?" and started the car, navigating the streets according to the directions Mike had given you. However, your nerves got the better of you, and you found yourself missing turns and getting lost.

Each error only served to fuel the fire. Mike's frustration grew with every misstep, a slow burn that threatened to consume the both of you. And then, finally, it boiled over. "Left, I said fucking left!" he shouted, his voice cracking with the strain of holding back his emotions.

"My fucking god. Can you drive?"

Stung by his harsh words, you couldn't help but retaliate. "What the hell is your problem? Why are you suddenly acting like a bitch?" Angry tears pricked at your eyes, the frustration of the day taking its toll on your composure.

His eyes locked onto yours, the transit stretching on as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he snapped, "Because you're terrible at driving!" It was a feeble excuse, an attempt to deflect from the real issue that loomed between you.

Your heart sank as you demanded answers, pleading with him to reveal the truth. "I'm not stupid, Mike. Tell me what is it!"

Mike's jaw clenched tightly, his mind racing as he tried to find the words to articulate his thoughts. But the harder he tried, the more elusive the truth seemed to become. The weight of the question pressed down upon him, threatening to crush the fragile foundation of their friendship.

Finally, he posed the question that hung between him like a cloud. "Do you hate the idea of being with me?" His heart pounded in your chest, waiting for your response, fear and hope to battle within him.

"What? Am I disgusting to you? Is it because I don't have a set job? Why?"

The weight of those words hung heavily between you, the car falling silent except for the hum of the engine. In that moment, everything felt on the line – your friendship, your future, and the truth that had been bubbling under the surface for so long.

"I never said that," you responded, your voice shaking with hurt and confusion. You grasped for some semblance of control amidst the chaos of your emotions.

"Well, you don't have to!" Mike declared, his voice wavering. Years of unspoken feelings finally burst forth, spilling out in a torrent of raw honesty. "We've avoided this for years. We're not friends!" The accusation hung in the air.

Mike recounted memories that flooded your minds, moments shared between the two of you that transcended the boundaries of friendship. "Holding hands at IKEA? Almost kissing? Showering together and almost having shower sex?"

With a bitter laugh, Mike snarled, "Friends, my balls. We're more than that, and we've been avoiding the truth for too long. It's time to face it."

"I just didn't know you liked me..." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the truth bore down on you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief mixed with the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you.

Mike's eyes softened, and for a moment, the tension between you seemed to dissipate. "I've liked you for a long time," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I was scared to say anything, scared of losing you as a friend."

The car fell silent once more, the hum of the engine the only sound that broke the heavy silence. At that moment, the two of you sat there, grappling with the new reality that had been laid bare between you. The path forward was uncertain, but one thing was clear – the friendship you had cherished for so long has now changed.

Mike sighed deeply, attempting to gather his thoughts and steady his escalating emotions. "I understand if you don't want to ever see me again," he murmured, his tone filled with a combination of regret and resignation. Despite the turmoil, he reached out and gripped your hand tightly, a silent plea for understanding.

"But, if that is the case," he continued, his voice catching in his throat, "at least let me kiss you... for the first and last time." The request hung in the air, heavy with the implication of finality.

You felt your body tremble at his words, a mix of excitement and fear coursing through you. The prospect of sharing this intimate moment with Mike, the one person you'd always cared for, both thrilled and terrified you.

"I don't want to die without knowing what it feels like to kiss you," he said, his voice filled with a mix of longing and desperation. The weight of the moment bore down on both of you, the unspoken emotions finally giving voice.

"And you won't have to," you whispered, desperation mingling with determination in your voice. Without another word, you leaned in, closing the distance between you until your lips met his in a searing kiss that echoed the years of longing that had built up between you.

Mike hesitated for only a moment before responding, his arms wrapping around you as the passion of the moment took hold. The weight of the past years melted away, replaced by the intensity of the present. For once, the uncertainty that had plagued your friendship was gone, replaced instead by the electric connection that had always been there, hiding just beneath the surface.

As the kiss lingered, you began to realize that this was not the end, but the beginning of a new chapter for you both. The path forward may be fraught with uncertainty, but you were ready to face it together, finally embracing the love that had grown between you.

Fin, Hope you enjoyed! I just wanted to write more than smut 😪

[studying-when-adhd-filled]

decided to study at home for the long weekend (less of a decision and more of a “if i leave now i’ll spend more time travelling than studying” but 🤷) - i was not productive

did a bunch of Code practice

finished data revision quiz 8

finished data practice exam

Finished occp notes for good

now for what i did instead of studying over the long weekend

watched 23 hours of Hilda hurricane

✨doomscrolled ✨

went to drop my grandma at the airport (see that one was reasonable)

made a billie eilish edit for a family friend (i don’t even listen to her)

[morelikeravenbore]

How did Auralie get her scars?

🦋✨ Hello there li'l anon friend! Thank you sooo much for sending in this question and for taking an interest in my bebe!

Not gonna lie, I went full blown too-much for this one and ended up writing a ~1.3k word fluffy drabble instead, lolol. But if you'd like a tldr, Aura got her scars after obtaining a scratch from a Venomous Tentacular seedling in her father's greenhouse. Since the wounds were magical in nature, the scars weren't able to be erased, but thanks to the wise words of her plant-loving (slightly eccentric) Hufflepuff Papa, she learned to see the beauty in them.

Anyways, this little oneshot is based after events in How to Make a Villain that haven't been published yet. For anyone reading along, there aren't any hard spoilers, but there are hints that they've been through some ✨stuff.✨

🦋 TW: none! Mostly fluffy with a little bit of angst and a general air of trauma. Photo of Aura's scars by me, Sebebe's scars by @lorriiraine

Preview: Much to the chagrin of his peers, excelling in his studies was, to put it mildly, downright bloody easy, and though his natural proclivity towards excellence often put him on the receiving end of bitter remarks and jealous taunts, Sebastian took pride in the fact that despite everything that had been taken from him, his intelligence remained unfaltering.

That is, until he fell in love.

Sebastian Sallow was no idiot, by any means. Having been raised by two fiercely academic professors, he'd spent much of his childhood with his nose buried in a book, studying magical theory and practicing wandless magic well before he'd taken his epochal trip to Ollivander's. Needless to say, by the time he arrived at Hogwarts — armed with a dragon heartstring wand and an itching desire to point it at everything — his intelligence was rivalled only by that of his sisters: the Sallow twins, though grieving the tragic death of their parents, were the brightest pair of students the school had seen in recent memory, an unstoppable force of Slytherin brains, resourcefulness, and ambition who were destined for greatness despite their unfortunate beginnings.

In fact, so brilliant was Sebastian's studious mind that when those unfortunate beginnings turned into unfortunate endings — starting with his sister's curse and ending with his uncle's death — his grades remained so impeccably high that even the strictest professors were loathe to punish him too severely when he repeatedly broke curfew to steal books.

Much to the chagrin of his peers, excelling in his studies was, to put it mildly, downright bloody easy, and though his natural proclivity towards excellence often put him on the receiving end of bitter remarks and jealous taunts, Sebastian took pride in the fact that despite everything that had been taken from him, his intelligence remained unfaltering.

That is, until he fell in love.

Little did he know that the thing that would ultimately turn his brain from highly efficient machine into flobberworm mush would come not in the form of N.E.W.T studies or brutal exam revisions, but from a girl who was so beautiful she rendered him incapable of coherent speech, rational thought and, perhaps most difficult of all, an inability to restrain himself from pulling her onto his lap and staring at her all gooey-eyed like he was now, their faces so close he could count every sun-kissed freckle across her nose.

To think he'd once thought himself too smart to ever fall in love.

What an idiot.

'You have a scar.' Aurelie was the first to break the silence they'd been enjoying for the better part of the afternoon, tilting her head to inspect the two faint scars that adorned his bottom lip. 'What happened?'

Sebastian had to hold his breath as her fingers ghosted the corner of his mouth; though the great weeping willow they'd settled under for the day offered some privacy from the shrewd eyes and wagging tongues of their fellow Feldcroft residents, it wasn't quite an appropriate place to enact all the romantic fantasies he imagined whenever she was perched in his lap like this.

'Flying —' He cleared his throat. 'Flying accident.'

'Quidditch?'

'No, uh —' Me crash broom. Biiiig idiot. 'I borrowed my father's broomstick when I was seven. Crashed into the side of the house.'

'Silly,' she murmured, giggling so close to his mouth that he inhaled it.

Sebastian nodded: the only response he could reasonably manage as her breath fanned pleasantly across his face, as warm and sweet as the summer air in his lungs.

Yes. Me stupid. Give smooch.

'You have scars, too,' he observed, his feather-light touch mirroring hers as he traced the delicate scars along her jawbone.

Though they did little to mar her beauty, the three long scratches seemed somehow too violent for features so fine, like cracks in an ornately gilded mirror, or chips in an otherwise pristine marble slab. He'd often wondered how she'd gotten them, but the mere thought of her suffering any sort of pain was so intolerable that he'd never found the courage to ask.

Seeming to sense the disquieted tone of his thoughts, Aurélie caught his fingers and pressed them to her cheek, effectively short-circuiting his brain again.

Me like touch face.

'Oh, those,' she said mildly, leaning into his touch. 'Gardening mishap.'

Sebastian could only grunt questioningly in reply, struck dumb again by the warmth of her skin and how softly it yielded beneath his calloused palm. It wasn't often she let him touch her so willingly; after all, there were scars that ran deeper than her marked skin, barely healed wounds that were so fresh and tender that she flinched away if he wasn't careful enough, slow enough. Part of loving this tentative girl was learning to control the moments his brain flipped off and his rambunctious heart took over, when his once infallible logic and reason were trumped by his big, dumb heart.

Theirs was a love that had exploded into existence at the start of their seventh year only to smoulder away inexorably for the rest of it until the flames inevitably reared up to engulf them. Now, a month after graduation, both a little scorched around the edges, neither of them were quite used to being together together, still reeling from the events that had nearly torn them apart while trying to navigate a future they'd never seen coming.

Of course, Sebastian had known from the beginning that his future was bound to hers — but never like this.

'Papa raised Venomous Tentacular when we lived in France,' Aurélie explained, closing her eyes as he stroked his thumb across her cheek. 'Maman was not happy about it. She argued that it was too dangerous to keep such aggressive plants in his greenhouses, especially with a curious daughter in tow.' She cracked open an eye to peek at him, a little wry grin teasing the corner of her lips. 'She didn't approve of my enthusiasm for gardening. Apparently, "it's not becoming of a lady to have dirt caked under her nails all the time." But Papa insisted.'

'Hufflepuff's and their plants,' Sebastian murmured, surprised he was able to string together four words that actually made sense.

'Yes,' she said, glancing up through her lashes with a smile tinged with pain. Sebastian returned it in kind, his own smile heavy with the burdens he shouldered. He knew how it felt to have the warmth of every happy memory tempered by the cold indifference of loss, every fond recollection skewed by sorrow. Like a favourite landscape seen through a rain-lashed window, familiar yet distorted, so too were his own memories of his past, of Anne and his parents, his childhood.

With a patience that was new to him, Sebastian waited in quiet observance while Aurélie disappeared across that great chasm of death to visit a happier time, letting her own tainted memories sweep her away until the rustling of summer wind through willow branches brought her back to him.

'Well,' she said, shifting her faraway gaze to meet his, 'you can imagine her horror when a Tentacular seedling reared up unexpectedly and scratched me.' She gestured at her face, tilting her chin back to show him the full extent of the damage her gardening mishap had left behind. Sebastian instinctively leaned forward, wanting so badly to kiss, to soothe, to mend, but mindful, as always, of taking his time.

Pretty.

'It was the worst fight my parents ever had,' she sighed. 'Maman was distraught, said that I'd ruined my face and that Papa had been irresponsible to let me near them. She tried every remedy under the sun to erase the scars — magical and mundane, Healers and Herbologists... even a Curse Breaker when she got really desperate. But magical wounds leave scars, so...'

She trailed off with a shrug, and Sebastian thought that if he didn't kiss away the lingering sadness from her face right then and there, he might actually explode.

'And what did your Papa think?' he asked, his voice a reverent whisper as the tip of his nose brushed hers.

'He used to say that my scars were simply "physical evidence of my curious nature and adventurous spirit",' she whispered back, repeating her father's words with perfect recollection. 'And that they only made me more beautiful.'

'Wise man, that Papa of yours.'

No more sad. Me smooch now.

When he leaned in again, dipping his head to brush his nose along her jawline, she didn't move away.

[mimiyewaffles]

Spew your void, no-mind, Buddhist LARP all you want, dress it up as “manifestation” to fool the gullible. Do it, motherfucker. I see through your bullshit. But when you start warping how kids and vulnerable people see reality, that’s where this shit stops being laughable and starts becoming dangerous.

Your “revising death” bullshit is beyond vile. It’s the kind of thing only a sick, deluded freak would push. If someone in my family, already barely holding on after losing a parent, read your trash and it dragged them lower, you'd be dealing with legal hell and personal consequences you’re clearly too stupid to see coming.

So keep running your mouth. But understand: if your bullshit ever ruins the wrong life, you won't just be exposed, you’ll be wrecked.

Awww, did my blog trigger you that hard? And i don't even post anything lol. Just gather up a few success stories to help out those who are going through the same situation as me.

First off—breathe, babe. The void’s not going anywhere.

I’m not here to handhold every random stranger who reads a post about death revision and decides to spiral. If someone gets upset because they saw a shifting success story and can’t handle the fact that they didn’t get theirs, that’s not on me.

I never said “follow me and your dead will rise.” I said: this is what I’m doing. This is what some of us believe in. If you don’t? Congrats, scroll on.

And you wanna throw around words like “vile” and “dangerous” like I summoned a demon? Hun, I’m literally just grieving in peace—doing my void meditations, entering stillness, revising the past, and manifesting a life where love actually wins. Sorry if that offends your limited worldview.

You are preaching about mental health and how this content could mess up minds while in the same breath calling me, someone who is 'barely holding on' "sick" and "freak. You are literally threatening a grieving person trying to survive. The hypocrisy? LOUD!

If someone close to you is hurting, maybe—just maybe—support them instead of stalking Tumblr to throw rage fits at strangers who post about reality shifting.

I didn’t ask for your family’s validation, I didn’t request your opinion, and I definitely don’t owe you an apology for how I cope with my own loss.

I’m not forcing you to shift. I’m not forcing you to believe in anything. But don’t act like your personal inability to comprehend non-linear reality is my problem.

You can call me delusional, LARP-y, or whatever spicy insult your internet rage can conjure up—but in the end?

I’ll be cuddling my person in a timeline where he’s very much alive, and you’ll still be anonymous, pressed, and terminally offline in your thinking.

So yeah—keep watching me do my “bullshit.”

I'll keep revising timelines.

You? Keep barking at the void. 💅✨

[alexhasalotofthoughts]

Somewhere in the void there is a video of 12 year old me and a friend doing our own version of pinof with whiskers drawn on our faces with eyeliner... No idea where it is though.

I was wearing a hoodie with ✨generic anime girls✨ on and an adventure time t-shirt (+ Doctor Who badges, Matt Smith specifically, just to tie the look together). Both of which were second-hand from an older kid I knew who was a cosplayer. I thought they were so cool because they cosplayed. One time they put me in a wig and did my make-up and I have never felt prettier.

Things like that remind me how much of a loser I have always been.

But also it's kind of adorable. Little me being so excited about things like that. Finding community in the things other people find cringe.

Feeling less alone when I was being bullied for being queer because of Dan's coming out video, 'Dan's queer so it's okay that I am'. Having a group of older cosplayers help me out when I was being catcalled in my CORALINE cosplay, most of which I'd never met before, brought together by blue wigs and funny stares from passers-by. Meeting a friend in year 7 because they overheard me talking about DDLC (a very age-appropriate game -_-), literally jumping down a flight of stairs to talk to me. Talking to the girl I sat next to in maths in year 8 about our mutual love of Danganronpa only to befriend each other properly 2 years later, Danganronpa now replaced by Ace Attorney.

The things I love are so deeply intertwined with the people I meet and the people I love. Intertwined with my identity.

Realistically, I probably need to learn to be less ashamed of the things I love. Of being, as I so graciously put it, a loser.

I would much rather be someone cringe than be so absorbed with self-hatred that I end up drowning in it.

Have the courage to exist and whatnot.

(This post was originally just the first paragraph but I had to edit it to fix a typo and now we're here. Sorry for yapping. As a reward for reading this, here is a terrible drawing of chief yapper Sister Daniel that I did instead of revising for my sociology mock:)

Also I'm not an artist so be nice pls :)

[crystal-cliffs]

yay. emilute fan!! 🎉🎉 just got into the fandom, i love ur aus!

💜 @emiluteyuri

Awe tysmmm^^

And it’s always nice to know the Emilute ship has a new member, I love meeting people who do💜✨

As a treat I’ll put another piece of WIP that hasn’t been edited or revised yet

“Injury doesn’t happen often in Heaven but you got injured in Hell so who knows if leaving it exposed will be okay. Wouldn’t you rather be safe than sorry?”

“Then I’ll do it myself.” Lute dragged herself over and sat down on the couch. One of her wings knocked into Emily’s face and the Seraphim scooted over with a huff.

“You know how to do it?”

“Shouldn’t be too hard if you can do it,” Lute muttered as she reached for the rubber gauze instead.

“Spray it first-”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Lute snapped and instead grabbed the small spray container. “I know what I’m doing.”

Emily tilted her head with a smile, but didn’t interfere. “I’m right here if you need help.”

Lute narrowed her eyes in focus as she sprayed the liquid onto the wound. She was meet with a slight wince before she grabbed the gauze again.

“Lute-.”

“I know what I’m doing!” She gripped the gauze tightly and returned to a silent focus. Her gaze flickering between what remained of her arm and the rubber gauze.

Emily took notice of how the feathers along Lute’s wings fluffed out again and started to try and shield herself like she did the other night. “Hey, relax.” Emily leaned forward to try and look at her. “Let me do it.”

Lute glared at Emily, but reluctantly tossed it over with an incoherent mumble.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Noelle - what is your OC's relationship with their parents?

Raissa - how far is your OC willing to go to get what they believe is right?

(For Robbie and Akash)

Intangibility - how have you stepped out of your comfort zone?

Heya! Thanks for the ask! (From this ask game based on my WIP The Secret Portal!)

Noelle - what is your OC's relationship with their parents?

Robbie - This is an interesting one, since his parents are very kind and I'd say good parents, but it's hard to say how close he is to them. Due to their hours, Robbie's parents aren't always home, so he does have to take the bus home to an empty house. There's no strain; Robbie's actually a pretty understanding and empathetic person. They'll go on vacation together when both can take off time. So I'd say his relationship with his parents is good, just not super close.

Akash - Well his dad's been dead for a while so there's no real relationship there, but Akash does take interest in the man his dad was. He still finds ways to be close to him through stories and pictures and other objects. There would be loyalty there. As for his mother, he got to spend quite a bit of time with her. Sure, the Staffords did step in often, but they were not a replacement for his mother, or his father. His connection with his mother is hard to define. He feels deeply close to her, intrinsically connected to her. If there was a way to bring both parents back, he would in a heartbeat.

Raissa - how far is your OC willing to go to get what they believe is right?

Robbie - The kid got into a school fight in the honor of a friend, and that's just the beginning of it. Despite not wanting to be seen as a hero, Robbie is very compulsive and feels a drive to do what he believes is right, screw the consequences. It's not so much that he doesn't have any forward thinking--he overthinks, and will run through many scenarios in his head in a few seconds, but then he'll say "screw that" and do it anyway. He'd light the world on fire for those he loves.

Akash - Akash is more hesitant than Robbie to light the world on fire, but he'd find a less extreme way to do the right thing, and if Robbie lit the world on fire, I believe he'd be right there next to him with a fire extinguisher saying something like "if you thought this was the best option, I totally trust your judgement, dude, but maybe warn me next time." Akash would actually be more likely to put himself on the line for someone else, on a smaller more personal scale. He's going to put other's needs before his own, for sure, not usually thinking of the consequences.

Intangibility - how have you stepped out of your comfort zone?

Ah, a me question?

Hm, this is a difficult one. Let's think about this.

TSP - I stepped out of my comfort zone the moment I opened it up for beta reading. People reading my shit?? That I don't know??? Nerve racking. But also in general making so many revisions and dropping stuff completely has been a comfort zone I've broken out of in the past. I used to not, well, do that. Just kinda go with what I had until I hit a wall. But I've made tough calls of what to keep, and I'm proud of that.

SOTL - Haven't really found a comfort zone to be shattered yet. I guess the closest is the decision to research lesser known fairy tales from a variety of cultures instead of just the easy ones most Americans/Westerners know, but I haven't, well, done that reading yet... I will! But that's the closest I got.

IWAJAD - The concept of everything being a metaphor/symbol terrifies me. It's not like I'm a completely literal person, I love overanalyzing shit, but writing larger metaphors and symbolism is not my strongest suit. This one will be a challenge for sure.

Thanks so much for the ask!

✨Robbie intro✨

✨Akash intro✨

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

SOTL intro

SOTL tag list (ask to be +/-): @illarian-rambling @katwritesshit @wyked-ao3

IWAJAD intro

IWAJAD tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @mrbexwrites @drchenquill

[tansyuduri]

18 aaaaand 27 ✨

18: if you keep them sare a deleted sentance or paragraph from a finished fic! I don't keep them or if I don't end up including somthing I wrote it usually ends up as part of another fic. Like with the one I'm currently revising I was planing on having the Merthur feelings realization happen one way and it happened in another. I was originaly planning for a near death situation to get it out of them, but an emotional one did instead. ANYWAY this will problubly eventually end up as part of a oneshot. Original idea was This:

And then Air and Light, Merlin took a breath of the wonderful wonderful air and then another. “Merlin! Merlin no!” A frantic voice. He knew that voice. And it should not sound like that it should never sound like that. Arthur? Arms grabbed him pulling him against someone. His head fall into the crook of an arm. A hand caressed his cheek thumb stroking. “You’re alive… you’re breathing… You’re alive” Merlins eyes fluttered open and the word slowly came into focus. But even before it did he knew the face above him, he would know it anywhere. “Merlin?” Arthur looked down at him. “Arthur” Merlin whispered. The beautiful blue eyes aboved him widened slightly. And then Arthur leaned down pressing his lips against Merlin, and Oh Oh Oh

Instead it happens at another moment when Arthur is spiraling. 27: your favorite part of the writing process.

The rough free write for sure. Bonus points if one of the boys is hurt, or banter is happening. Or one of them is just being SO FREAKING THEM. In a way I didn't plan for.

Writer ask Questions from here!

[littlebvtterfly]

For the plot bunny ask game: Glee, please??

@dancingsunflowers-ocs ✨💛✨

Thank you very much @dancingsunflowers-ocs! Also gonna tag @luucypevensie (and thank you so much for brainstorming with me!) and @daughter-of-melpomene!

For some context of who I'm about to introduce: I, as a lover of ignoring Glee canon, have gone with the popular fanon of making Jake Santana's surprise half-brother and replacing Ryder with a different Puckerman half-brother who isn't a copy of Noah. Also, this is basically an older Glee plot bunny who I'm revising.

Meet Florence Jean Redding, who goes by Flora in general. When Flora's single mother moved her to America a couple of years ago, the Australian-born teenager hoped that there would be much more to do. After all, isn't the "American Dream" what people chase after on a daily? Well, maybe if they didn't live in Lima, Ohio, of all places. Instead of making advancements in her gymnastics, Flora is watching her cheer coach shoot people out of canons. Instead of making some proper money to help out her mother, she's scooping ice cream at the Lima Freeze, watching her boss wage a silly Hatfield vs. McCoy-type war against the Lima Bean across the street.

When Sue Sylvester asks (makes) Flora to spy on the new New Directions for her, to wage another pointless vendetta that should have ended years ago, she declines at first, too uninterested in the bullshit that happens in that club every week. But then she meets one of the dorks who's about to be singing show tunes down the hall, and he just so happens to be a fellow Aussie and suddenly, she's way too enticed by him to not just go for it. Soon enough, her spying duties are forgotten as she starts to enjoy performing, even with the drama that comes with it.

But with the ragtag group of literal misfits more often than not being unable to put together a decent performance, their chances at actually making it to Nationals and winning, like their predecessors did, is starting to seem like an unreachable goal.

[m-i-s-a-n-t-r-o-p]

✨6/11/23✨

things i did for school today

- studied physics

- finished rendering my 3D model

- did some sketches for tomorrow’s consultation with my design professor

-also made some wire mini models for my studio project

selfcare moments

- went to a classical music concert tonight and it was so amaziiing, i want to do this at least once a month

- met up with my friend i haven’t seen for a long time and we talked about our designs. it was so refreshing and i felt so motivated afterwards

- riding the tram with my music on

- went grocery shopping and bought so much fruit and food that i love

- finally washed my hair and my curls are back! i missed them so much (i’m also thinking of cutting my hair shorter but i’m not sure about it)

what i’m grateful for

- my friends

- music

- good food

- being able to appreciate culture

- coffee shops that are open on a late sunday evening

- being able to draw whatever concept i have in mind

tasks i’d like to do tomorrow

- study physics

- hand in my 3D homework

- read the article which i will base my essay on

- draw one my homework for drawing class because i probably won’t be able to do it on tuesday

- revise all that i’ve learned for physics and prepare myself mentally for the test on tuesday

how i felt today

at first i was a bit disappointed my boyfriend wasn’t able to make it to the concert but i went with a friend from school instead and it was so greaaat. i had such a good time and the music moved me a lot, it was simply beautiful. i was tired the whole day so i can’t wait to sleep but it was all worth it. i also came up with some new concepts for my studio project so i am pretty happy about that, now i just have to convince her to like it too haha.

🎧 how to disappear completely - radiohead

✍🏻 to be free is often to be lonely

peace and love

x