#it's so frustrating i've looked forward to this for weeks and now i'm like “i'm scared to go ”

[salmon-slam]

yet another anxiety cringefail from yours truly: spending the entire saturday in the kitchen to prepare food for the neighborhood's christmas party, only to chicken out last minute like always

[loumauve]

I snapped today at work, and by snapped I mean I politely commented on a help desk ticket by summing up an mess of an (type of) issue that's come up for at least the fourth time in the 2+ months I've been managing user accounts, and asked the person responsible to fix it (himself for once) because last time I fixed his mess-up it took me two whole days to work out the details with at least four other colleagues from different departments and I really don't want to do it again. there's other shit that needs doing, I've been working 10+ hour days for most of this week already, so I need to cut down not add on more.

(good thing tho - at least we managed to fix the issue where the dataset of a newer employee got mixed up with another one of the same name and therefore wasn't able to apply for any of the access/accounts she needed. technically not entirely my area but it does impact us not being allowed to create an account for her so I figured I might as well track that issue down. took three days and at least three other people, but hey - it should all work out now. yay for that)

[vaguely-functional-directions]

.

[gutghost]

Imagine you get cheated on...BUT- the cheater turns kinda...yandere?

It felt like an awful nightmare. Bile rising in your throat as you looked at your lover - the person who you loved through their highest and their lowest, the person who you invested blood sweat and tears into, the person you promised yourself to - undoubtedly pressing their lips to another person's. It took a hot minute before you tried to step back, only for you to bump into the doorway, causing a loud thump. The two looked at you, one with horror, the other with confusion. It took you no time to turn around and make a run for it. A hiccup making its way out of your throat as you felt a sob start to shake through your body.

It's been afew months, well. More then few months since that incident, and safe to say you have been doing...fine. not great, but fine. You've decided to collect your things while your lover was away from the house, your friends and family helping you out as you found a new place to live. It was bare bones, considering you didn't take the shared couch, or tv, dressers, not even bed. But it was yours, and you've been getting by. You'd like to think you've gotten stronger.

That was until odd things started happening around your apartment. Things were being moved, shit you know you wouldn't misplace. Your clothes were going missing, much to your dismay. You barely had any, so to lose even one shirt was frustrating. Then roses started appearing in vases in your home. Seeing as actual items were showing up you decided to call the police, and when it seemed that the window to your bedroom was broken, seemingly from an outside force, they told you to invest in better security as they kept a look out.

Which is why you were going to the store so late at night, I mean, what could go wrong?

bad decision, you later decided as you looked at the scene infront of you. Your throat tight, bile rising, just like that night, the night you lost your true love. In front of you was your lover - now ex - looming disheveled, gasping for air as their voice broke, a small, unnerving, almost crazed look, crossing their features.

"My love, my everything, oh please-"

"Dont."

Your lip trembles as you step back, your look of surprise quickly turning into that of anger. They had no right to call out to you with such fondness, not after what they put you through. The pain and suffering, all due to the person who swore to love you.

A look of hurt crossed their face at the sight of you backing away from them, as if you kicked a puppy. The idea sickened you. Quick to try and close the space once more as they struggled to walk straight they would stumble forward. Their voice trembling as they fell to their knees, a whimper coming from them as they scrambled to grab at your sweatpants.

"Please - my love I beg of you, I know what i did was sin, I know - I've never been more sick in the mind then i was that night, oh I was so stupid, thinking I could ever so much as THINK of another woman! Even more so after wards, how could I think I could ever live without you??? You! Oh precious you, the sun only shines when you are near. Those next few weeks were torture my dear, I've never wanted anything more then to RIP MY SKIN OFF WHEN I REALIZED MY MISDEEDS."

Their insane rambling continued as you tried to shove them off, tears starting to stream down their gaunt cheeks. Had they been eating? You wondered as you tried to get them off you.

"I'm...i'm better now though! I've never been thinking clearer, I came to a realization life isn't worth living without you! But by then- you...- you had already left, I tore through that house to try and find you but you had already been far gone. I asked your family, your friends - but all of them simply turned me away, your LOVER - isn't that what I am? I am, aren't i?? They should've...they-"

You couldn't listen to this anymore. A disgusted feeling filling your gut. What did you ever see in them?? You quickly shoved them away, a small gasp coming from them as you stepped away, your ex lover falling backwards onto the sidewalk. A look so firey resting on your face it could rival the heat from the depths of hell.

"You lost that right. You lost it the moment you took that person into your arms, the moment you brought them into our home, the moment you pressed your lips against theirs."

They seemed dumbfounded, sobs starting to wash over their body as they tried to sputter out apologies. But you had none of it.

"Did you get a kick out of it? Seeing me suffer? Seeing me jealous as you placed your hands on that person's? Your lips on them? When i left did you just go right back to kissing on them? Fucking them??"

You spat at them, your ex lover crying their heart out as they struggle to breathe. Whether it be from guilt or heartbreak, you weren't sure. They shook their head as they continued to cry, trying once again to reach out to you, to hold onto you for that comfort you once so readily gave them. But you stepped back, putting space between you once more. A scoff coming from you as you did so

"Baby please don't do this to me, please please please-"

Their voice wavered heavily. Some part of you, the part buried deep down in your heart, ached at the sight of them so broken down. They looked ill, both mentally and physically. But what done was done. You quickly turned on your heels as you made your way home. Your ex lovers cries filling the street as he urged you to come back, to not leave him. To not abandon him.

Maybe some sick part of you felt good that you left them a blubbering mess, after all. They rept what they sown, did they not?

Little did you know, oh how blissfully unaware you were. They were gonna get you back, one way or another. They will have you back in their arms, with all those roses they left in your apartment in pretty vases all over your newly bought home in the woods, far from everyone.

They will have you be their's again.

that corpse that once used to be their side piece left rotting under the concrete of their basement proves it.

[ha-rinrin]

I want to say, I love your writes and content! If you still take requests... I've been a little sad lately. So I was wondering if you ever get a chance too, could you maybe do a Jinx and Reader taking care of a sad Isha? Like maybe she never left her tent that day and just stayed in bed. Oddly specific I know 😅, but anyways, I hope you are doing well and of course this request is up to you. Thank you!

Thank u so much for your kind words! honestly I loved the idea cause I've also been feeling a bit down, that why I've been MAI for the past week, I'm really sorry about that, theres been a lot going on but I’ll try harder to keep making more fics and fulfilling requests. I swear, hope you didn't forget about me ;)

masterlist

Not Alone

The hideout was quieter than usual, the hum of activity in the air replaced by an uncomfortable stillness. You glanced at Jinx, who had been pacing back and forth with an expression that didn’t quite match the usual spark in her eyes. She was tense, scared even.

"I just don’t get it," Jinx muttered, kicking a can across the floor. "Isha hasn’t come out of that damn tent all day. We’ve tried everything, and she’s not even talking to me. What if I messed up?"

You could feel her frustration, but there was something deeper in her voice—something vulnerable. Isha had always looked up to Jinx, so seeing her upset made both of you feel like you were walking on eggshells.

"I don't think it's you," you said, trying to reassure her. You knew Isha, even though she’s young, she has a sensitive soul. And the weight of the world on her small shoulders was probably taking a toll. "She’s just... struggling right now, Jinx. We just have to be patient. Let her come to us when she’s ready."

Jinx gave a quick nod, though the uncertainty still clouded her features. "But... she’s our kid, y’know?. If something’s wrong with her, we gotta fix it. I just... don’t know what to do." She stopped pacing and looked at you, a hint of desperation in her eyes. "I don’t want her to feel alone."

You stepped closer, offering a comforting hug. "She’s not alone. We’re here. We’ve always been here. She knows that."

Jinx wrapped her arms around you, but her eyes flickered toward the tent, her worry only growing. "She doesn’t even look at me," she said, her voice cracking just slightly. "She’s always been the one to follow me around, but now? It’s like I don’t even exist to her."

You could feel her anxiety, her need to fix it, but you knew it wasn’t something that could be fixed with an explosion or a loud gesture. You took a deep breath, breaking the hug to look at her, your hands still in her waist. "She’s not ignoring you. It’s not about you, Jinx. She’s probably just processing something on her own, and sometimes, that means shutting everyone out for a little while."

Jinx’s shoulders slumped slightly. "I just... I hate seeing her like this. She’s our kid. If something’s wrong, we’ve gotta do something."

You squeeze her waist, offering comfort before stepping back. "We are doing something. We’re here for her, and sometimes that’s all she needs."

Jinx nodded, but her worry didn’t completely fade. The silence felt heavy as you both approached the entrance to Isha’s tent. It felt wrong, this unnatural quiet that stretched between the three of you. 

Jinx hesitated before pulling the flap of the tent aside, revealing Isha curled up in the far corner. Her back was to you, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if she was trying to make herself smaller. She didn’t even look up when the two of you entered, and the weight of that silence settled deep in your chest.

You took a step forward, softly kneeling down so you were closer to Isha’s level. You didn’t force words; you simply stayed close, just as you always had. You placed your hand gently on the floor beside her, not touching her, but offering comfort through your presence. You didn’t expect an answer, just the small gesture of showing her she wasn’t alone.

Jinx sat down beside her, offering the same quiet support. Her hand rested near Isha’s, close enough to offer comfort, but not intruding. She didn’t say anything at first—she knew that wasn’t what Isha needed right now. She just stayed there, silently sitting with her.

After a long, tense moment, Isha’s fingers slowly moved, her hand inching toward Jinx’s. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind both of you that she was still there, that she still cared.

Jinx gave a soft sigh, her eyes filled with relief. You smiled softly, a quiet moment of understanding passing between you and Jinx. Sometimes, the silence between you all spoke louder than anything else.

The moment stretched on, the quiet tension in the air heavy with unspoken thoughts. Isha’s fingers, which had barely brushed against Jinx’s, suddenly trembled. The next thing you knew, the subtle shaking of her shoulders turned into something more, her breath hitching as she finally broke down. Silent tears fell, leaving streaks down her cheeks as she clutched at her knees. The sight of her vulnerability cut through the stillness like a sharp knife, and you could see the raw hurt in her eyes.

Jinx’s heart seemed to crack at the sight of her kid crying, her protective instincts kicking in without hesitation. She immediately moved closer, pulling Isha into her arms with a tenderness that only the two of them shared. “Oh, kiddo,” Jinx whispered, her voice soft yet full of concern and sadness. She held Isha tightly, as if trying to shield her from the world and the pain she was carrying. Her fingers brushed through Isha’s hair, the gentle rhythm soothing in the silence.

You watched for a moment, feeling your own heart ache at the scene. You couldn’t help but step forward, reaching out. You lowered yourself in front of Isha, moving carefully to avoid startling her, and cupped her face in your hands. Her tear-streaked face was a raw reflection of the pain she had been holding inside.

With a soft, gentle touch, you used your thumbs to wipe away the tears that streamed down her face. It felt like the smallest thing, but in this moment, it was all you could do. Isha’s eyes flickered toward you, a flicker of gratitude or relief that made your chest tighten. She wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

Jinx’s voice was barely a whisper as she continued to hold Isha, her own tears threatening to spill. “You don’t have to do this alone, kid. We’re right here with you. Always.”

Isha’s breath hitched again, but this time, it was quieter. Isha’s shoulders trembled once more, but this time, the tension seemed to ease. It was if she was allowing herself to trust the moment. Trust that you both were there, and that she didn’t have to keep everything inside anymore. Her breathing slowed, a quiet sign of relief.

You smiled softly at her, your hand still holding her face, and leaned in to place a tender kiss on her forehead. “You’re not alone, Isha,” you whispered, your voice full of warmth. “We’re right here, every step of the way.”

The three of you stayed there in the quiet, the world outside forgotten for the moment. There was something healing in the silence—something that told Isha that she didn’t have to carry her pain on her own anymore.

[baronessvonglitter]

Behind Closed Doors

husband's best friend!Joel Miller x f!reader | WC: 2.1K

Summary: Your husband comes home early and walks in on you with his best friend - Joel Miller.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Adultery. Cuckolding. Threat of murder/violence. Exhibitionism. Voyeurism. Breeding kink. If it's not your thing you don't have to read. Reader is married (see Adultery above) and able-bodied with female anatomy but no description otherwise. No y/n. If I've missed anything please let me know!

A/N: this is the follow up to hbf!Joel head canon which I promised but have been remiss in working on until today. It was practically finished already! 🙌🏼 I'm on a roll this week.. I'm just glad to be getting these ideas out and on paper your screen.

fun fact for today: I have never cheated on anyone. Does a kiss count as cheating? If so, then I change my answer and I did cheat once. Oops.

dividers by @strangergraphics 👑

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO HER??"

Your husband walks in to find you with his best friend Joel Miller. The guy he's been friends with since fourth grade, who played on the football team with him in junior high, who took the fall when he crashed his parents' car after a party one night, who was his wingman for years before he found you.

That same man is in his bedroom, fucking you, his lawful wife, while you're on all fours on the bed, taking his cock as if you've done so a dozen times before. He doesn't know that you actually have.

Joel falters slightly, his rhythm off a bit as he's taken by surprise by your husband's coming home early.

"Don't stop!" You squeeze your nails into Joel's thigh. He looks at your husband with an icy stare and gathers your hair in one hand to give it a little tug.

"I won't stop, darlin'.. he can watch me fuck ya." And you squeal as he snaps his hips against you, this time with a fury.

Your husband steps further into the room, his blood boiling as he yells at Joel with a voice that sounds like venom. "I SWEAR TO GOD, MILLER, GET OFF MY DAMN WIFE OR I'LL BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT!"

You groan in frustration. "Honey, get out!!"

Your husband is shocked to hear you yell at him like this, especially in the situation you're in.

"GET OFF MY WIFE RIGHT GOD DAMN NOW OR I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU!"

"You're a bit too late for that," Joel says, his voice surprisingly even, before he starts to move in you again. His voice is like silk when he speaks next. "Darlin' did you want me to stop?"

"Please don't stop," you whine, pushing your hips back against his to keep him moving. Your actions and the pleading in your voice make him moan softly and his body reacts on its own. He looks back at your husband, making direct eye contact with him as he starts to move again.

"You hear that? She doesn't want me to stop."

You whimper as he moves again. The squishy sounds you make fill the room along with your sighs.

"YOU'RE A SICK SON OF A-" your husband yells, stepping forward as if to put a stop to it, but Joel gives him a warning glare.

"I wouldn't if I were you," he growls. "You come one step closer and you're gonna find out just how sick I can be."

His words make your stomach flutter. "Joel.. he's not gonna do anything."

But Joel doesn't take his eyes off the man as you speak, and he pulls your hair tighter. "You don't know what he wants to do.. he wants to kill me for what I'm doing with you right now."

"He won't kill you," you gasp at his hair pulling. "He won't kill you. He's in shock."

Your husband can't believe what he's hearing coming from you. He's shocked and angry. "SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" he yells suddenly, but Joel doesn't like that at all, and he snaps his head back at your husband. "Don't talk to her like that," he says firmly.

"Joel," you whine again. "Just ignore him. I need you.."

Joel looks at you again, seeing how frustrated and annoyed you are, and he can't ignore you. Especially when you say you need him. He looks at your husband again, his grip on your hair loosening. "She said she needs me," he says, almost challengingly.

With a huff you get up, straddling Joel. "So rude to keep me waiting," you murmur, riding him.

He looks up at you, his hands coming to automatically rest on your hips before he looks over at your husband, his eyes still carrying that possessive look. "You heard her," he says without taking his eyes off your husband, "You interrupted us."

"Get out!" you say, frustrated.

Your husband's veins almost pop out of his skin from how angry he is, but he doesn't leave, only looking between the two of you. "You two are SICK," he says in a disgusted tone.

"You're sick for staying and watching," you pant, leaning down to kiss Joel.

Your husband looks like he's about to explode, but then you lean down to kiss Joel and his eyes darken at the sight.

You swear you've never heard a deeper tone than when Joel growls, "Get out" in a firm and menacing voice. "Your wife and I are gonna finish what we started."

"Listen, honey," you try to reason as you slow down, grinding on Joel. "Joel's under our roof -- oh god! -- and while he's under our roof he's our guest -- ooh! right there -- and while he's our guest this is gonna happen."

Your husband looks absolutely bewildered by your reasoning, his face almost turning purple with restrained rage. "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?" he yells at you, but Joel has heard enough. "Keep your voice down. You're interrupting," he says firmly, gripping your hips a bit tighter, trying to get you to keep going.

You focus back on Joel, riding him the way he likes. "You feel so damn good.."

He groans softly and looks at you, his hands gripping your hips tighter, trying to get you to keep the pace on him a bit faster. Your husband is sitll in the room but Joel almost forgets about him when you ride him like that. "God, baby, you feel so goddamn good," he says, breathless. "You like ridin' me like this?"

"Yes! Oh you're so deep!" You ride him faster.

The way you ride him is almost maddening, and Joel can't do anything but let you take control of him. He groans and grunts lowly, the feeling of you on him making him almost lose his mind., He looks up at you like he owns you but then he suddenly realizes that your husband is still in the room watching, He looks over at him again, his eyes dark and possessive. "She likes ridin' me, don't she?"

Your husband's face is even redder now and looks like he's about to scream at you, but Joel interrupts him before he gets a chance to open his mouth.

"Keep your mouth shut," he says, his voice firm and low. "I'm still not done with her."

Your cries grow louder. You scream his name until you come.

"Goddamn baby, you are so perfect," he pants, his hands digging into your hips a bit harder, as if he's holding onto you for dear life. Your husband looks beyond horrified, like he can't process what he's seeing and can barely keep it together when Joel looks over at him again. "Her man doesn't like it when I make her moan like that," he says with a smirk.

You're still squeezing him with your aftershocks, whimpering and sweating. Joel is so close behind you, almost completely lost in you and how you look and sound on top of him, trying to keep yourself up. He squeezes your hips as you ride out your aftershocks and he groans lowly as he feels you still squeezing around him. His eyes meet yours and he give you a possessive look, the need to claim you written all over his face.

He looks over at your husband, who's still watching you from the corner of the room, and speaks in a low, huskier tone. "You see her? I bet you've never seen her come like that. Have you ever even made her come?"

Your husband is speechless, looking like he wants to yell at the both of you, but he can't talk. Joel sees the look on his face and he smirks before looking back at you again. He suddenly grabs your hair as he thrusts up into you and makes you look at him, his voice low and deep, a challenge in his tone.

"Who do you belong to, baby?"

"You, Joel." you whimper. "I belong to you."

He growls lowly at your reply, the possessive need in him taking over him completely. He knows your husband is still watching but he doesn't care. He wants you to say those words, he wants you to look at him and tell him you're his.

He pulls your hair a bit harder and puts his other hand on your hip, pulling you down on him again. "That's right, baby, you're mine," he says in a low growl.

Another orgasm crashes through you as you're stuffed full of him. You coming again, squeezing him so perfectly, is almost enough to make him explode right then and there. He groans lowly again, his voice like gravel as he feels you squeezing down on him. He leans his head back, almost like he's fighting the orgasm, trying to prolong the moment and make it last.

"Fuck, baby, you're going to make me come," he groans and then looks at your husband, taunting him.

"Want you to come, Joel. Want you to fill my pussy," you whine.

Your words and how they come out in a needy, impatient whimper are like music to his ears. His head is clouded by the need to claim you and make you his. He looks at you again, his eyes almost feral, then he looks at your husband once more. "You hear that?" he says huskily. "She wants me to fill her up."

Your husband looks like he's about to combust, his veins visible in his neck from how angry he is. Joel just looks at him, his eyes dark and a smirk on his face, his breathing still heavy and his voice huskier than usual. "Does that make you upset?" he asks, his tone mocking.

Your husband is in shock and struggling to find words. but before he can speak Joel suddenly looks back at you, his eyes darkened even more. "You want me to fill you up, baby?" his hands digging harder into your hip. "You want me to come inside you?"

"Fill me up," you beg. "Put a baby in me," you say, knowing it can't happen anyway but you have to shock your husband.

The idea of knocking you up makes everything in Joel feel primal. He looks at you, his eyes almost feral, possessiveness radiating from him. "You want me to breed you, baby? You want me to fill you up and give you a baby?"

"Yes," you moan. "Want you to fill me full.. let my husband watch you get me pregnant."

When Joel glances at your husband he's almost surprised to find him with his cock out, pumping it, spitting on it to make it glide.

"Yeah, fuck your fist. That's all you're gonna get while I'm here," Joel grunts to your husband. Then he flips you over, his hips housed between your thighs as he slams into you, relishing the loud cries coming from your mouth.

"Ain't gonna fill ya until you come for me, baby," he says, nearly gasping for air. "Gotta earn my cum, baby. Gotta earn it so I can put a little Joel in your belly."

His thumb circles your clit, moving clockwise then counter-clockwise, gentle and insistent unlike the way he's moving inside you, hips pistoning as he works you into another frenzied orgasm, wrenching one from you as easily as he always has.

Tightening and pulsating, lightning runs through your veins as you let go with a loud curse, body arching up, taking in every blessed inch of him. "Good girl," Joel coos, slamming into you until he's at the edge, and then he turns to see your husband, still crying and pumping his useless cock with his fist. With a snarl, Joel maintains eye contact as he pumps you full of his cum, fucking you until the last drop is deposited deep inside you, and when he finally pulls out he uses his tip to softly push it back in when it starts to dribble.

"There, baby, so glad I finally got to cum inside you.." he places a kiss on the corner of your mouth, smiling as he sees your blissed-out expression. As an afterthought he glances at your husband, his fist full of come that spilled over as he watched you two.

"Not that I don't love usin' that pretty little mouth to swallow up all I've got," Joel adds fuel to the fire. "Or that tight little ass. I love fillin' up that tight lil' hole.."

With a smirk he rolls off you, gently caressing your belly, imagining it swollen, jiggling with baby kicks and your tits getting big with milk. "From now on I'm the only one who gets to come inside you, darlin'. Gotta make sure it sticks."

tagging those interested from the head canon: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @everybodylovedcontractors @probablyreadinsmut

@tateypots @eviispunk @thedilfdiaries @lanielooo21 @sunnytuliptime

@cxrsed-angel @joelalorian @myownwholewildworld @lilac-boo

@sawymredfox @aurorawritestoescape @604to647

@chewingbunny @sighofthetimez @coolranchdavidian

@tammythr @notgoingtomalta @amyispxnk @lokischocolatefountain

@megangovier @almostempty @tuquoquebrute @jinxispunk

@hotgirlbedtimescenarios @frannyzooey @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

@rabreu1414 @inept-the-magnificent @letsgobarbs @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu

and if I've forgotten any please forgive me 😅

[p1eceandharmon1]

how they react after hurting you ┊ p1harmony (part 1)

fluff! (with a bit of angst!) ┊ gn!reader ┊ word count: 2406

ੈ♡˳ requested!

a/n: heyy, it's been so long TT. this was requested a while ago, i'm sorry it took this long :(( i've been very busy with work and school but now that all of that is over i'm so happy to be back. anywayss i hope you like this one <3

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

➳ Keeho ┊ 윤기호

With your anniversary with Keeho just around the corner, you had been coming up with ideas about how you could celebrate it together. It was not your first anniversary as a couple, but the past few years, you haven’t been able to do anything special due to Keeho’s schedule. But this year, you were especially looking forward to it as it seemed like your boyfriend’s job wouldn’t keep you apart.

You couldn’t wait to bring the idea up to Keeho, already daydreaming about how you could spend that day without any distractions getting in the way. So, as usual, you were waiting for him to return home from the company, trying your best not to let your eyelids close due to sleepiness. The sound of the front door unlocking startled you a bit, but a smile quickly formed on your lips the moment you saw Keeho stepping in.

You noticed straight away the bags under his eyes, as he was making his way towards you. He greeted you with a quiet “hey” and a peck to your lips as he plopped down on the couch next to you. He rested his head back, closing his eyes and leaving out a deep breath. “How was your day?”, you asked as you ran your fingers through his hair, which you knew he loved. Keeho leaned into your touch, enjoying the sensation of your nails slightly scratching his scalp. “Exhausting. Good thing is that I don’t have to come back until Saturday, so I can stay home tomorrow”.

“You have a schedule on Saturday?”, Keeho looked up at you when he felt your hand stopping abruptly. “Yeah, why?”, he asked, obviously oblivious. “You said you were gonna be free on Saturday. It’s our anniversary”, you were clearly disappointed. “It was a last minute thing, I can’t do anything about it”, he said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. You scoffed and looked away.

“Come on, don’t tell me you’re mad now,” the tone of his voice changed into a sharper one, “you know my schedule can change any minute”. You could sense the argument approaching. “Of course I knew; it has been like this hundreds of times before. But still, I preferred to believe you would make an exception for a day as important as that”, your frustration grew word after word and you could feel your face heating up.

“How could you be so unfair? You knew what you were signing up for when we started dating. You knew work is one of my main priorities” his voice was still cold, so unfamiliar to you. “You’re not being very fair either when you’re completely neglecting your other priority, which is supposed to be our relationship”, you remarked with a shaky voice. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t have started this relationship in the first place if I knew you were going to be this inconsiderate”.

His words broke your heart in million pieces and you felt tears gathering up in your eyes, but you did your best to hold them back. You didn’t say anything at all; instead, you stood up and went to your shared bedroom, leaving Keeho with a serious expression on his face.

Hours passed and you were still in different rooms; you sitting on the bed trying your best to stop crying and Keeho going up and down the living room, too ashamed to go talk to you. He couldn’t believe he had the guts to say such harsh things to your face when he didn’t even mean it. Stress from the last few weeks made him take his anger out on the person who deserved it the least; you.

He finally built up the courage to knock on the bedroom door, his heart beating faster when he heard you telling him to come in from inside. A tight knot formed in his throat when he made his way closer to you in silence — neither of you was good at apologizing first, especially after an argument like that. He sat beside you on the bed and tried reaching for your hand. He could see the dried tears on your cheeks and the pain that still lingered on your eyes when you looked at him, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled you closer into the tightest hug ever and blurted out an apology with a shaky voice.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I swear I didn’t mean what I said. I’m such an idiot,” his voice was filled with honesty. “I know I don’t deserve it but I hope you can forgive me”.

You wrapped your arms around him, returning the hug, and you felt his body slightly relax. “You really hurt my feelings,” you whispered. “But of course I forgive you. I know you didn’t mean it”. He pulled away only to capture your lips into a sweet kiss filled with emotion. “I promise it won’t happen again”.

➳ Theo ┊ 최태양

Theo was in the midst of the promotions for the group’s new album, and that meant them attending multiple music broadcasts, radio programs, press conferences and interviews. You always tried to keep up with all the new content to support the boys from the shadows because, as you and Theo had already agreed, it was best to keep your relationship secret. Theo was the one who suggested this as all he wanted was to ensure your safety and privacy, and protect you at all costs from nosy reporters and crazy fans.

You were watching this interview that was airing live when, all of a sudden, the interviewer changed the course of the conversation towards a more personal field. “So, I’m sure many of your fans are very curious about your off-camera lives, right? May I ask you, is there anyone special in your lives? Theo, for example”. You watched as your boyfriend grabbed the mic to answer, not really sure about how he would respond. “Actually, no. There isn’t. My only passion right now is music and I wouldn’t change it for the world. In fact, I wouldn’t want to date anybody if that meant it would take time away from making music. I’m happier being single”, he replied calmly.

You would be lying if you said those words didn’t sting. You knew he was probably lying, that he couldn’t tell the truth, but the honesty in his voice kept ringing in your ears. Maybe he was just a really good liar, or maybe there were some truth in what he said. Questions and intrusive thoughts kept popping in your head, not leaving you alone throughout the entire day to the point you couldn’t concentrate one bit in your daily chores.

Finally, it was time for Theo to come back home, where you were waiting for him, doubts still running through your head. You heard him opening the front door and taking off his shoes at the entrance, before he went towards you to greet you with a kiss. He frowned when he felt your tense lips against his, and also when you avoided his gaze when you pulled apart.

 You prepared dinner and ate it together as always, but Theo noticed you were so much quieter than ever, only giving him short answers every now and then. He knew something was very off; you were always like this when something bothered you.

You stood up, grabbing the empty plates to put them in the kitchen sink, and he went behind you. “Is there something wrong, love?”, he tried testing the waters. Whenever you were angry or sad, his approach was always to ask you right away and encourage you to open up to him, as you tended to bottle up your feelings and that was the last thing he wanted. “No, I’m fine”, your voice sounded weaker than you intended.

You tried to get past him but he grabbed your arm, forcing you to face him. “I know you’re not,” he spoke softly. “I just need you to tell me what’s making you this upset”. You finally met his gaze and you couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I watched the interview from this morning,” you admitted, your cheeks suddenly feeling hot. “Would you really be happier if you were single?”.

At first, he looked at you with confusion, but when he knew what you were talking about, he engulfed you in a rib-breaking hug, shaking his head slightly as a little smile played on his lips. “Is that what all of this is about?” he asked with a playful tone. “You sounded very genuine”, you said as you rested your head on his shoulder. He brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, making you look at him directly in the eyes. “None of that was true, I promise,” he pecked the tip of your nose. “I just wanted to make sure no one suspected a thing, but I’m sorry it bothered you. The question was totally out of place; it took me off guard”.

He slid his hands down to your waist and you wrapped your arms around his neck. “It’s okay. I’m glad to know,” you said as you felt the knot in your stomach loosening. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I got insecure and I should’ve trusted you. I’m sorry”. He shook his head. “Don’t say that. Don’t invalidate your feelings like that. You were hurt because of something I said and I am the one to blame. But I want you to know that I love you and that I can’t imagine a life without you by my side”.

You reached up to kiss his lips softly but passionately, feeling so much warmth from that confession. He wasn’t the type to express his love with words, and you were grateful he had reassured you of his feelings.

➳ Jiung ┊ 최지웅

It had been such a terrible and hectic day for Jiung at work. Nothing seemed to go as he planned, which made him frustrated, and he had a hard time focusing on his to-do tasks, so he had to stay longer to finish them. The only thing he could think about was getting home, changing into comfortable clothes, eating some dinner and go straight to bed.

You had been working all day as well and when you arrived to your place, Jiung wasn’t there yet. You left your coat and shoes at the entrance and made your way to the bedroom to get changed into your pajamas. There you were when you heard Jiung entering through the front door — just by the sound of his footsteps, you could tell he was exhausted. He came into the bedroom and gave you a tiny smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t say anything else but you didn’t want to push him too much when it was evident it hadn’t been a good day for him.

“You haven’t made dinner yet?”, he asked and you didn’t like his dry tone one bit. “I didn’t have time. I arrived just minutes before you”, you replied in shock. Jiung sighed and rolled his eyes. It was so rare in Jiung to give you an attitude like this, but you decided it was best to let it slide; you didn’t want to start an argument. You left him changing in the bedroom as you went into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of cups of instant ramen — it was the easiest and fastest thing to cook.

Jiung joined you and you started preparing dinner together. Looking at his movements, it was obvious that he was still agitated from work; it was almost as if he was in a rush to go to bed and just forget the day. You could understand, of course, because your day hadn’t been easy either, but his behavior was starting to get on your nerves. You put some water to boil for the ramen before turning to face him.

“Are you gonna talk about it?”, you asked, crossing your arms. “About what?”, his voice was low and his eyes never met yours. “You know what I’m talking about. I can tell something happened today at work. Don’t you wanna let it out instead of keeping it to yourself?”. “No”, his sharp reply was your last straw. “Look, Jiung. You’re tired and stressed, I get it. But that doesn’t give you the right to take it out on me, especially when all I want is to help you”.

Jiung didn’t say anything at all, nor even looked up at you. He just went past you to grab the boiling water, which made you even more frustrated and hurt. You had your hands wrapped around the ramen cups, securing them in place as Jiung poured the hot water. Unfortunately, his nervous state made him accidentally spill the boiling liquid directly on your hand.

You let go of the container immediately, hissing in pain as you felt your hand and fingers burning. It was like something in Jiung’s brain clicked and the expression on his face changed almost instantly. He let the water aside and grabbed your wrist firmly yet gently to drag you towards the sink, where he held your hand under the cool stream of water. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so so sorry,” he kept apologizing. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry”.

“It’s okay, Jiung”, you tried to play it cool but you kept biting your bottom lip to keep the tears from falling due to the painful sensation coming from your hand. “No, it’s not. I’ve been such an asshole since I came home and now this. And all only because I had a bad day at work,” he admitted. You stayed silent, concentrating on the soothing feeling of the running water. “You didn’t deserve this at all. I hope you can forgive me”.

“I already told you, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it”, he still had a little frown on his face, proof of how guilty he felt. He grabbed your other hand, leading you to the living room and making you sit before taking some cream out of one of the drawers. He sat beside you and started applying the cream on your burnt skin with so much care. Once he was done, you both wrapped your arms around each other without hesitation and you felt him pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Neither of you needed to say anything else.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[llovely-12]

School sucks!

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Minatozaki Sana x female reader

Warnings: Loser reader, popular girl Sana, awkward talks, history class (if that's a warning for anyone), reader is like super nerdy, some self-doubt, mentions of presentation anxiety

Story: Reader and Sana are paired together for group work. Sana flirts, reader blushes.

Authors note: This was quite fun as someone who has history advanced class. Sometimes, I feel like an absolute nerdy loser during school. Anyways, enjoy the read♥︎

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The school bell rings as the clock strikes eight o'clock. School has started, and the students of the eleventh grade wait patiently for their history teacher. Monday first period was always reserved for history. A few students quickly shove some snacks into their mouths, and others spend the time on their phone for as long as they still could.

The door slides open, and the teacher walks inside. Measured steps walk towards the front of the class.

"Good morning, class." Greets the history teacher. Everyone gets up and bows down while mumbling a 'Good morning'.

"I've planned a class project for the week. The project will include a presentation, a handout, and a test on all of the presented topics. The timeline for preparation as well as presenting will take about two and a half weeks. I will choose the groups. Every group includes two students."

Groans and complaints roar through the classroom. Nobody seems to be in the mood for such a time-consuming project. The mentions of a test seemed to wrap it up nicely.

One student, though, was all excited for the project. Y/n. Her love for history was indescribable. Always top of the class with a perfect score. Her love for history started at a very young age. Most of her free time was reserved for researching historic events. On top of that, she is also class president. A trustful student at that.

Y/n smiled brightly while already planning out the structure of this project.

There is another person in this classroom. Her excitement was on the bare minimum. Minatozaki Sana. She is one of the most popular girls at school. Everyone is head over heels for either her or one of her friends. Hirai Momo and Myoui Mina are always on her side, the Japanese girls never seen separate.

Sana groans and glances out of the window. She wasn't exactly stupid or not good in history. The subject just didn't matter to her that much. There were better things she could spend her free time with. Such as shopping.

The teacher had already started putting together the pairs. Some students are happy while some others try to hide their frustrations. Y/n patiently waited for her turn.

"Y/n, you will be in a group with Sana."

Y/n smiles and turns to glance at Sana. The two never spoke much. The class president waves joyfully and nicely greets Sana. The Japanese girl, on the other hand, did not react that excitedly. She almost rolled her eyes and turned her head away.

♡

After class, Y/n makes her way to Sana.

"Hello, Sana. Since we're in one group, I wanted to discuss some things for the start. When do you have time for meeting up after school? I already planned some things for the presentation and hand out-"

"First of all, I don't have any time for this project. I really need some new clothes, so I'll be spending my free time shopping. Secondly, I think you can handle this perfectly on your own for now. I'll tell you when I'm free, just get started and I'll help you later on. What's even our topic?"

"Oh, um, our topic is Napoleon and him taking over Europe. Please text me when you're free. Here's my number."

You hand her your phone and watch her type in your number into her contacts. She smiles and hands you back your phone.

"Thanks, Sana, I'll be looking forward to our work together."

You smile back and leave the classroom to get to your other class.

♡

A week has passed. Sana hasn't texted you yet, and the project is due in three days. You did most of the research yourself as expected. People mostly let you do the work since you're the class best. Sana isn't an exception there.

You thought she would have messaged you by now, but the contact between the two of you stays silent. Sana doesn't even talk to you at school. You feel really frustrated about this. She didn't even talk to you in history class.

You never minded being the nerdy outcast, but sometimes it was just lonely. Nobody would want to pair up with you. Many would just use you for good grades. You didn't think Sana would be the same. She actually looked so sweet.

A notification from your phone interrupts your train of thoughts. It's a text message from Sana.

'Send me your address, I'm coming over wince I have some free time. Can't leave you all alone with the project ;)'

You sit up and look at the message for a few seconds. That was quick. You didn't think the odds would change this fast, but here you are. You type in your address and see her reply with thumbs up. She's quite silly if you think about it.

♡

The wait for Sana is uncomfortable and embarrassingly long. You get a light stomach ache, which is quite normal in stressful situations. Everything related to the topic is laid out on your desk, sorted neatly. Your right leg bounces on the stop to relieve some stress.

Your parents aren't home for the night. They went out for dinner. You often told them that you wouldn't be eating with them since you were so caught up in studying. School is something very important to you, and you take it very seriously.

The door rings, and your body almost explodes with nervousness. She's here, at your house. This is weird. Nobody's ever been at your house. You apparently take too long for her liking, so Sana rings the doorbell again.

The sounds of your footsteps are muffled due to the carpet. You carefully open the door and glance at Sana. She looks nice, maybe a bit overdressed. You, on the other hand, are dressed in casual clothes.

Sana smiles at you and moves past you inside of your house without even asking for permission. You look after her in confusion, but quickly close the door to catch up with her.

"Where's your bedroom?"

Sana asks. You lead her to your room and close the door after the two of you enter. Sana takes a good look at your room. She grins at the decor and the posters.

"Kpop? Really? Didn't think you'd be this nerdy."

You blush and look down at your feet.

"It's actually really nice to listen to. You should give it a chance."

Sana shrugs and picks up some other items. She often giggles to herself. You can't really do anything else other than watching her inspect everything in your room. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"How about we start on the project? It's due in three days, and there are still some things we need to do."

Sana nods and looks at the already gathered papers on your desk.

"Did you already start with the hand out?"

You shake your head and walk over to your desk.

"No, I focused on the presentation first. It's the most important thing about our project. All of the information I gathered should be helpful for the handout, though."

Sana nods and takes some of the papers. She reads through the information and nods to herself.

"Wait, wasn't Napoleon like active during the first world war?"

You stop with what you're doing and slowly turn to look at Sana. This question was not expected.

"No. Napoleon's era was during the late eighteen century up to the early nineteen century. World War One happened in 1914 until 1918. Why did you think Napoleon ruled during world war one?"

"I don't know. My concept of time is not that great."

You nod and get back to the information. Sana grabs a paper and starts with the handout.

"I can start on the handout. After I'm done, we can copy this and print it out a few times. What do you want on the handout?"

"Uhm, maybe Napoleon's way of taking over Europe, and we should definitely bring in the code civil."

Sana just nods and raises her eyebrows at what you said. Her knowledge of history could be compared to the intelligence of a potato. This was just not her strong suit.

"Wow, you're really into the topic. It's a shame that you're this nerdy. You're actually kinda cute."

Sana winks at you, and you blush. Why is she acting like this? At first she didn't want to talk to you, and now she is flirting with you? What is this behaviour?

The evening goes on with the two of you working on the project. Sana is surprisingly very good at making handouts. Her questions on Napoleon, on the other hand, have you in a state of shock.

During the work, Sana makes some flirty comments towards you. It's weird since she doesn't really talk to you, like ever, but this seems to be different. You don't know what has gotten into her.

Sana leaves after two hours. She winks at you and then walks off into the night. Your face is beet red. Nobody has ever acted like this with you before.

♡

You sit down in the cafeteria to eat some food. While munching on some rice, you finish some English homework. You're so deep in thoughts that you don't notice three girls walking over to you.

They put down their trays and sit down at your table. You lift your head to see who it's is. It's Sana and her friends Mina and Momo. Sana sat down next to you while the other girls obtained the seats across from you. Sana smiles and clings onto your arm.

"Hi, I hope you don't mind us sitting here. We just thought you were a bit lonely, all by yourself. What are you working on, honey?"

You stop in your tracks and look at Sana. Your face heats up, and you stammer for words. Momo and Mina are suddenly very interested in the food, but you can see the smile on their faces.

"Uh, uh, I'm working on English homework."

"Cute."

Sana coes and presses herself against your body. You side eye her and get back to your homework.

It is really hard trying to concentrate, while Sana distracts you from homework. She would squeeze your arm and whisper flirty stuff in your ear. Momo is too interested in her food to even notice the commotion between Sana and yourself. You sometimes think she's in a different universe, deeply engaged in her thoughts. Mina, on the other hand, did notice the little situation between Sana and you, yet she did not comment on it.

You really ask yourself why this is happening. Yesterday, you were a lonesome loser with nerdy interests, and now you're apparently the hottest thing in school, according to Sana. This didn't make much sense.

Though you had the idea that this would hold on until the final test on all of the projects was written. Many people feigned a friendship before, only to leave you after they got a good grade. It was sad that no one was really interested in your personality and rather your intelligence. Maybe this was Sana's plan. Use you for good grades and then leave.

♡

Finally, presentation day arrived. You were quite nervous about your end result. There was always a certain fear inside your body when it came to presentations. The thought of people laughing over your mistakes hunt you in every nightmare.

You sit beside Sana while watching another group present. Your leg bounces up and down in a fast rhythm. The pressure of presenting in front of the entire class presses down on you. Anxiety fills your mind and body. Your hands start shaking too.

Sana is focused on drawing a cute little figure into her notebook. She barely pays attention to the group that's currently presenting. What does catch her attention is the way you're behaving. The fast-paced leg bouncing and the shaky hands as you try to take notes on what the other students are saying. She glances at you for a few seconds before she gently puts a hand on your knee. She presses down onto your leg so it doesn't bounce anymore.

You look at Sana. Shock and confusion spread across your face. Sana smiles and caresses your knee with her thumb.

"It's fine, Y/n. Try to focus on something else. It's just a presentation. The others won't throw rotten tomatoes when you make a mistake."

You nod and try to calm down. Sana's gentle gestures helped a lot during the process. The group came to an end, and you raised your hand to give some feedback. Everything felt more at ease now that Sana was silently comforting you.

It's now your turn to present. You get up and walk to the front of the class. The PowerPoint starts, and you go over the agenda and explain the different topics. Sana notices a slight shake in your voice. She grabs your hand and holds it while you're presenting. The action is hidden so other classmates don't notice the affectionate gesture.

The presentation goes smoothly with no mistakes. The feedback is good, and the teacher seems pleased with the final product of your research. You give the teacher as well as some classmates the handout.

After class, you stop Sana and thank her for the help. She smiles and gives your hand a gentle kiss before disappearing into the crowded hallway.

♡

Sana asked you to study with her for the upcoming history test. To you, the topics and different timelines were easily understandable, yet to her, it was a disaster. Sana had not made any notes on the presentation, so you both decided to research the different presented topics.

You would give Sana a topic, and she should research about it and write down notes. At the end of your study session, she should present everything she researched. You did this four days in a row. Between researching, you also asked her questions about the different historic events. It helped her memorising everything, from dates to persons active during the historic eras.

Also, Momo and Mina started getting closer to you. The trio overall warmed up and took you in, almost like they adopted you. Momo was hesitant at first. She was always a bit introverted, so she got to know you at a slow pace. Mina was about the same. After a few days of sharing a table at lunch, the two of them started talking to you like you've been friends for a long time.

Sana kept her clingy energy with you. She used every opportunity to be close to you and seek your company. She even asked to be seated next to you in most classes.

All of this did not make sense to you. Yes, you enjoyed the company and the maybe promising friendships that could evolve, but on the other hand, you knew what happened. After the test, Sana would disappear with her friends and leave you alone.

The days went by quickly, and the ache in your stomach grew bigger with every passing hour. You did not want them to leave you. The time you had with these three girls was awesome. You have never met people like that before.

After the test was done, you thought Sana wouldn't even talk to you. To your surprise, she still hung out with you. Why's that?

♡

You open your history textbook, and a note falls onto your lap. Your name is written on one side in neat handwriting. Nobody usually got access to your books, so this is weird. How did anyone manage to slip a note in there?

You take the note and open it up. Inside, there is a small text.

Dear Y/n, I've been admiring you over the last month. I was so happy when our history teacher paired us together for the project. You are such a caring and fantastic person. I really like you. Would you meet me after school for more clarity? Yours sincerely, Sana.

Your eyes widen. Sana wrote a confession letter to you? How is this possible?! You always thought she was annoyed when you were around. Well, she did get closer to you over the last two weeks, but you never expected this.

You carefully fold the letter and put it into your pocket. One thing was clear. You definitely needed clarity on this. Everything is so confusing right now. How long has she liked you? Or is this only a trap? The anticipation for the meet-up after school grows with every second.

♡

Sana leans against the school wall while waiting for you. You take small but firm steps into her direction. She looks up and meets your gaze. A shy smile spreads across her face. You have never seen Sana this unsure in your life. Usually, she is always this confident girl, but right now, it seems like she's scared for your reaction.

You smile back and still in front of Sana. Silence fills up the space. Neither of you is sure how to start this conversation. You don't know what to say or how to open up this topic. Sana, let's out a deep breath.

"So you've read the letter?"

You nod and pull it out of your pocket as proof. Sana nods and looks at you curiously.

"Well, what do you have to say?"

"I, uhm, I honestly don't know. All of this is new to me. I've never had anyone confess to me. If I'm honest, I don't know why you're into me. I mean, there's not much to like about me."

Sana stares at you in disbelief. She steps closer and takes your hand. Her eyes meet yours. Her brown orbs sparkle a little.

"Are you kidding me? You're such a wonderful person, I don't get how people don't like you. There should be people standing in a line to date you. Even if you're nerdy or if you're not that popular. I think you're perfect. You're just right the way you are."

Your eyes fill up with adoration. Sana has just the right words to swoon you. Butterflies errupt in your stomach and spread a tingly feeling in your body. You giggle and hide your face in your hands.

Sana grins and takes your hands from your face again.

"So what do you say? Are you up for a date?"

You take a moment to think about it. After some consideration, you nod slowly. Sana excitedly jumps around and laughs happily.

"I honestly thought you would dump me after the project. Most people did that, so I was unsure about you and your friends staying."

Sana stops and frowns.

"I would've never done that. That's just low. Anyone who did that should be ashamed of themselves."

You smile. Sana takes your hand. The two of you start walking. Sana chats about all kinds of things while you listen carefully. It's a nice combo. You notice after some time that Sana is walking you home. The path, too engraved in your mind to not notice.

You stop at your house and turn to Sana.

"Thank you."

You shyly smile again. Sana grins and looks at you.

"For asking you out or walking you home?"

"Both."

You giggle and glance at her. Sana leans in and kisses your cheek. The kiss is gentle and soft. It could also be mistaken for a peck with how delicate it is. Your cheeks heat up and turn into a rose pink colour. Sana steps away from you and winks before walking off. She waves one last time before rounding the corner.

You step inside your house and hold the cheek she just kissed. Your other hand reaches for the letter. A smile spreads across your face as you soak up the lovely feeling of Sana's adoration for you.

♡

[bumblequinn]

hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.

as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)

but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:

changing expectations

the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!

my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.

when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.

so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?

with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.

with that in mind:

#1: work slower

when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.

instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.

i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!

now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.

doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.

however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:

#2: switch projects

sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.

this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.

the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.

what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.

but it doesn't have to stop there.

#3: switch focus

maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?

let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:

what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today. okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now. alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily? what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?

and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?

what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for? what if i try sampling something obscure? what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?

any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.

or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.

but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:

#4: learn something new

when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.

for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴‍☠️)

it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)

that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:

music theory and composition music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang

mixing and production dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix

general inspiration nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!

(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)

of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:

#5: consume art you love

not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.

but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.

and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.

what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.

as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.

none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.

and finally,

#6: rest, and live your life

let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?

take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).

it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.

i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.

when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)

before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:

be kind to yourself.

being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.

i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.

i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.

thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.

with care, bee 🐦

[jewishgirlrevolt]

8x09 Thoughts. I'm done with Eddie Diaz

I tried to write about this episode previously.. and I am going to send a second note to ABC about some of what I will outline here.

So let's talk about the good first. As utterly predictable as the serial killer plot was, it was a WILD ride. JLH is an amazing talent and I am SO looking forward to her and Abigail Spencer playing more off one another next week.

Buck with the dog was so cute. Also excellent choice in dog. Props to K9 casting.

Now let's get to everything else. Sorry this got really long. Under the cut.

TLDR: Eddie Diaz is a jerk. I don't have any desire to root for him anymore, and I don't care what happens to him. Buck has his flaws, but I want to root for him and for BuckTommy to get back together.

Buck helping Eddie find a subletter was not Buck being bad or bratty. I think he was genuinely trying to help Eddie find someone suitable. But he was also dealing with a lot. He's still not over Tommy, and now he's dealing with his best friend leaving. So it's Buck not thinking through and brain to mouth connection short circuited.

Eddie, meanwhile, didn't even tell Buck he had found a serious option until after he had made a down payment. How is Buck not supposed to feel abandoned? If I were moving away, I would let my best friend know the situation long before this.

Ok, so Buck is told to leave, and he notices he doesn't have his keys, or phone, and overhears Eddie saying to a potential tenant that "He doesn't have any ties here." Which is Bullshit for 2 reasons. 1. It shows Eddie doesn't consider the 118 as anything more than coworkers (if they were friends he would have told them his plan earlier on so they could work out and help him while finding a replacement). And 2. TIA PEPA and his cousins LIVE IN LA! Continuity error or not, I don't know. I don't care. This post is already horrifically long.

Now during the fight, Eddie is super mad at Buck and honestly...had he had ONE normal conversation with Buck this all could have been avoided. Buck comes back to apologize after revealing the situation to the team, something Eddie should have done weeks ago. What Eddie does is shit on Buck. And it wasn't necessary. Now! I've had fights with friends, I've been frustrated on occasion with my best friend. But I would never in a million years even THINK to use their insecurities in a fight against them. That's cruel and while Buck didn't handle the situation in the best way, Eddie was way too hard on him. Cause again, Eddie could have resolved this with one conversation. And we know Buck would never be upset with Eddie for choosing Christopher. But I think Eddie knows deep down that he's making another impulsive and stupid decision. Wow Eddie really has one brain cell. And he's clearly projecting that insecurity on Buck. But it's not Buck's job to validate Eddie's half-assed ideas. I think it was @nephilimeq's amazing post that really hammered in the emotional maturity and avoidance Eddie so

What we see is Buck's biggest fear shown, the idea that people tolerate him/care about him as long as he is useful.

Because Buck has done so much for Eddie. He took care of Christopher and was there for both of them at the drop of a hat. And Eddie by comparison.. and I know friendships aren't always 50/50. But it feels like this friendship is like 95% Buck and 5% Eddie.

I think it was @nephilimeq's amazing post that really hammered in my problems with Eddie. It's that he hasn't matured emotionally and faced his emotions and actions. And that's why I am so done with Eddie. And why I fully support Buck getting back together with Tommy.

Now Buck has his flaws, there's stuff he could have handled better this episode and the narrative needs to have him grow, and of course get back together with Tommy, who sees him and loves him, flaws and all. And it is clear that Buck isn't just dealing with Eddie leaving, he's still not over the breakup. And pile both of these things together... he needs a hug. But Eddie was in fact a complete jerk about the whole thing. This episode for me also shows why not only is B*ddie not going canon, even if it did, it would not be a good relationship because I don't think Eddie knows how to have one.

I don't really care if Eddie comes back or not because Eddie's not a character I want to root for anymore. I hope he's able to repair his relationship with his son for Christopher's sake though.

[walkingstackofbooks]

Keiko saying goodnight to Miles and Julian with something like: "I think I'm going to turn in now, actually. I'm hoping to try and finish reading this book tonight - it's a real page turner. You might know it actually, Julian. Garak recommended it to me."

To which Julian isn't sure whether he's more appalled at her taste in literature (A page turner? One of Garak's books?!), or that Garak is also apparently recommending books to her when that's their thing.

"Oh? What's it called?" he says casually, feeling frustrated at how jealous he's suddenly feeling and trying to conceal it.

--

Originally I intended for the answer to be "The Never Ending Sacrifice", which Julian cannot believe Keiko actually likes. Nor can he believe that Garak would lend it to her, when it's a book they've so often argued about!

Of course, Garak is insufferably smug about his new ally in defending the book. More so than he might otherwise have been, in fact, since he does not want to let on his dismay at failing to tempt her into a friendly argument.

--

... but then this idea appeared to me, and started writing itself!

The title Keiko replies with is one that Julian's never heard of, and he immediately grabs his PADD to search up the translation she's reading. (Sorry, Miles, they're both now lost in a Cardassian book.) And it turns out that Keiko does not have bad taste, but that Garak has given her a book that Julian genuinely gets wrapped up in! Apparently it is possible to enjoy a Cardassian novel!

Of course, Julian takes this up furiously with Garak the next time the have lunch. Or sooner, actually: the minute he gets off his shift the next day, he storms into Garak's shop.

"Why have you never recommended this to me?" he tries to demand, but it ends up sounding far more like a whine.

"I was simply trying to find something based on Mrs O'Brien's preferences, doctor, that she might enjoy reading. I take her recommendation of it as a sign I succeeded?"

"Yes! It's a great book!"

"I'm glad to hear it. I'll look forward to discussing it with you tomorrow lunch - when I'm not in the middle of the working day."

Julian reluctantly takes the hint and skulks off, continuing to nurse his hurt feelings until the following day.

"So," he says, as they sit down. "How is it, Garak, that in four years, you have never once tried to find me a book based on my preferences?"

"Oh, I'd hardly say that's true, doctor. I take great care in picking out every book we read."

"Hah! Name me one book that I haven't argued with you about, then!"

"I could say the same of your selections, my dear."

"You liked Austen—"

"Some parts of it were adequate—"

"Well that's more than you can say of your Cardassian novels—"

... And thus, the intended discussion is all but forgotten about as they continue rehashing their arguments over the many flaws in each other's book selections. But, eventually, one of them remembers that they did in fact have a new book to discuss.

And in the course of that conversation, Julian discovers that ‘having’ is indeed not so pleasing a thing after all as ‘wanting'. Garak seems to have no strong feelings on the book, and their talk does not flow easily, as it does when they're running from argument to counter-argument to counter-counter-argument.

"I realised the other day that I've never made you read Alice in Wonderland," Julian says, as the time to get going approaches. "You'd probably hate it though. It's chock-full of whimsy and nonsense and made-up words..."

"I'm sure I could try it," Garak interrupts. "After all, what humans consider nonsense might well sound logical to a Cardassian."

Julian grins. "That's the spirit, Garak. Alright then, Alice it is. I'll see you next week?"

"At the very same time," Garak replies, with a nod and a smile of his own. "Until next week then, my dear."

(Spoilers: Julian is, of course, proven right that Garak hates it, and the two of them have a jolly good time arguing over it.)

[ninibeingdelulu]

"I'm right here"

plot- an argument with depressed geto CLICK ME

"I can't believe you're being like this!"

Suguru's voice cracked with frustrated accusation, slamming his textbook down with enough force to make you flinch.

"It's like you're purposefully trying to drive a wedge between Satoru and me just because you're jealous!"

You felt your hands ball into fists at your sides as that familiar spike of molten defensiveness surged through your veins.

How dare he diminish your concerns so callously after everything you'd been through together? As if your feelings were some trite, immature flight of fancy rather than the genuine loneliness you'd been grappling with lately.

"Jealous?" you scoffed, tossing your pencil aside with a heated glare.

"You really think I'm that petty? That this is just me throwing some pathetic tantrum over not getting enough attention from Wunderkind Geto?"

Suguru opened his mouth - undoubtedly to fire back with another biting remark - but you barreled forward, finally allowing the dam holding back weeks of bottled resentment to burst open.

No more mincing words or letting things fester until they'd reached this ugly, toxic fever pitch.

"I'm worried about you, jackass!"

You shoved off the couch, gesturing wildly as the torrent of pent-up emotions flooded free in a tumultuous rush.

"That's all I've wanted from the start! For you to actually let me in about what's been eating you up so badly lately that you've become a total goddamn stranger!"

Suguru seemed to visibly deflate somewhat under the brunt force of your outburst. But that brief hesitation was rapidly replaced by the familiar stubborn set of his squared jaw and narrowed onyx gaze which indicated the imminent eruption of his own fiery temper.

"Oh, so now you're my therapist?" he sneered, bracing his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward in your direction with acerbic challenge.

"Sorry I've been such an inconvenience while busting my ass trying to actually secure my future instead of wasting time with teenage melodrama!"

You shook your head in disbelief, throwing your hands up as another harsh bark of laughter cut through the tension like a serrated blade.

"Un-fucking-believable...Is that seriously what you think this is about? Me being petty over you 'wasting time' with dumb high school bullshit?!"

Suguru simply glowered in stony silence, the muscle in his clenched jaw visibly twitching.

Waiting for you to either continue your tirade or offer more proof of your apparent delusions over the state of things between you.

Well, if he wanted you to spell out the tangled knot of anguish and confused longing festering in your chest with stark clarity...Then so be it.

"I'm in love with you, you arrogant prick!"

The confession exploded out of you with enough volcanic force to make you immediately slap a hand over your mouth.

Yet once uncorked, there was no recapturing the deluge as it raged on, raw and unfettered.

"And it's been ripping me apart watching you spiral so far down in this pit of darkness without letting anyone in to try and pull you back out!"

Suguru looked as though he'd been struck across the face.

All residual ire seeping away into slack-jawed shock and visceral vulnerability cracking those steely exterior walls you'd slammed against so fruitlessly in the past.

His throat bobbed in an audible gulp, those intense obsidian eyes you used to lose yourself in now swimming with a thousand different conflicting emotions roiling in their tumultuous depths.

The sudden, stark silence stretching between you was enough to buffer even the frantic hammering of your pulse thundering past your ears.

The fear of obliterating one of the most important relationships of your life in that combustive outpouring constricted around your throat like a vise of pure dread.

Then, after what felt like an eternity...Suguru's expression shifted again.

His features settling into an almost haunted kind of resignation piercing directly into your very soul. When he spoke, his typically unflappable baritone emerged cracking and subdued - the most naked glimpse you'd ever witnessed of what laid beneath the surface he fought so vigilantly to repress.

"I...I know..." he confessed in a gust of breath barely above a whisper.

One shaky hand scrubbed over his face, refusing to meet your wide-eyed stare. "Fuck, I've known how you felt and I-I kept pushing you away so I wouldn't hurt you more by—"

The strangled catch in his throat cut off whatever fragile truth seemed to be teetering on the precipice of being laid bare between you.

Suguru's free hand balled into a fist clenching the material of his pants until his knuckles bored white while haunted shadows flickered across his downturned visage.

Never before had you witnessed him look so...utterly wrecked. So excruciatingly human under the weight of inner demons you'd never known to be lurking underneath it all.

Not until they'd already carved out pieces of him you might never get the chance to recover.

But you couldn't allow either of you to retreat into that isolating darkness anymore. Not after clawing your way this deep into the open wounds between you both.

Too many regrets were already trailing behind in your wake...

The deafening silence hung thick and palpable in the wake of Suguru's shattered admission.

You could practically taste the roiling torrent of unspoken truths and anguished vulnerability thrashing violently just beneath the surface he was struggling so viscerally to repress.

You knew with every fiber of your being that if you didn't reach out in this pivotal moment, the fragile threads binding you both together risked snapping under the immense strain.

And you refused to let that happen - even if it meant wading blindly into the shadowy depths of whatever demons were currently carving him hollow from the inside.

Tentatively, you bridged the couch cushions separating you and laid your palm overtop that trembling fist clenched with white-knuckled force against his thigh.

Suguru flinched slightly at the contact, but didn't immediately recoil away. Emboldened by that microscopic victory, you gently pried his fingers open to lace them through your own in silent invitation.

"Suguru..." you murmured, injecting as much tender reassurance into his name as humanly possible.

"Whatever it is causing you so much pain...you don't have to keep shouldering it alone anymore. I'm right here, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

His jaw clenched spasmodically, those turbulent eyes still steadfastly averted from meeting your concerned gaze.

You could see the muscle twitching in his cheek from the sheer force he was exerting to keep that impenetrable mask locked firmly in place.

But you refused to relent, rubbing the pad of your thumb soothingly across his knuckles in hopes of coaxing him to simply breathe. To open himself up even a sliver after all this time...

"Please," you implored, daring to shuffle closer until your thighs were a hairsbreadth from touching.

Until that painfully unguarded expression was directly in your line of vision, begging to be witnessed without judgment or reprimand.

"Let me help carry this for you, 'Guru. You've been alone with this anguish for too long..."

Finally, finally , some of that tightly wound tension began leeching from his hunched shoulders as if the words had sliced through some of those invisible restraints shackling him down.

Suguru raised his other hand to rake shakily through his tousled raven locks, unravelling before your very eyes.

When his gaze at last lifted to lock with yours, the sight of those inky pools swimming with so much naked, harrowing vulnerability physically winded you.

"I'm so afraid..." he confessed in a ragged whisper thick with shame and trepidation.

His hand convulsed where you clutched it in your lap as if the admission had torn open a fresh, gaping wound inside.

"I've convinced myself I have this grand purpose to dedicate myself to completely, but there's a part of me that wonders if it's all been an excuse...a distraction from facing how truly lost and messed up I've become."

Tears glistened in those haunted obsidian depths and your heart shattered at the sight of Suguru's meticulously constructed walls crumbling before your eyes.

The instinctive need to pull him into your embrace and chase those demons away was near overpowering.

Yet you resisted, allowing him to unfurl at his own pace without outside influence. Simply being the steady presence and supportive tether he so clearly needed more than he'd realized.

"Everyone told me I was destined for greatness after awakening to my talents...That I possessed a gift entrusted to rectify this curse plaguing our kind."

Suguru's voice had descended into a hoarse, halting murmur as the floodgates burst completely open.

Each gravelly syllable etched in anguish carved into his very marrow.

"But deep down, I've always been so goddamn afraid of failing. Of disappointing everyone and being seen as the fraud I've convinced myself I must be for harboring any weakness or-or..."

His words finally failed, fading into a ragged exhalation torn from his very core as he lifted his imploring gaze beseechingly to yours.

"God, why am I like this? Why does any of this matter when all I've wanted is to open my eyes and see you smiling back at me without all this bullshit driving us apart?"

Your throat constricted wordlessly, scorching tears blurring your vision at the utter desolation contorting Suguru's features into the most wrenching expression imaginable.

Here was the strongest, most indomitable person in your life bearing the very depths of his shattered soul before you in total surrender.

And you instantly knew in that pivotal, crystalline moment - there was nowhere else you could ever fathom being that wasn't by his side.

Providing the steadfast strength and acceptance for those fragmented pieces until he felt whole enough to stand on his own once more.

There would be more tears, more shards to sift through together in confronting this pervasive darkness slowly consuming him from the inside out.

But the first painful, cathartic step had been taken. And you fully intended to never allow Suguru to slip backward into that isolating abyss ever again.

So you did the only thing left to reassure him he wasn't alone in this monumental fight for his very sense of self and purpose.

You surged forward and pulled him into your fiercely protective embrace - cradling his shuddering form flush against your chest as his own quiet sobs finally shook loose in heartrending waves.

"I'm here...I'm right here, 'Guru..." you whispered over and over into the downy strands of ebony hair tickling your lips.

"We're going to get through this, I swear it..."

Your shared tears and ragged breaths mingled achingly between your twined bodies as a new, mended path forward gradually unfurled with each passing heartbeat.

From the ashes of everything you thought you'd understood about him and the conflicted world he inhabited...

Bound now by the decision to walk whatever darkened road stretched ahead completely united in purpose and love at long last laid bare - come what may.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎclark when you're stressed౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x clark kent

On a good day, you didn't like to be in your head for too long. On a day like today, too many hours with yourself could be catastrophic.

Your arms were folded over a messy stack of papers, handwriting smudged, fresh ink staining your arms. The cool of your keyboard under your elbow was the only sense you were aware of. Whenever you were stumped, your hair was often the victim, and it resulted in painful brushing every night. Today was no exception.

The only light in the room was from the city through your window. You'd relied on the sun for most of the day, but your own frustration had caused you to give up and slump forward to your desk until it set, the room full of more shadows than anything.

Consulting your brain, you tried to make yourself get up to no avail. For the past two weeks, you'd been able to convince yourself but today it wasn't working. Frustration had you nearly vibrating, and you felt nearly faint. You'd been in a slump for weeks now, and it didn't seem to be going anywhere. Had you finally run yourself dry? Were you fresh out of ideas now, doomed to live off your former genius forever?

The doorknob rattled, keys jangling against it, but you didn't move. He'd find you eventually- he always did.

"Baby?" Footsteps clunked closer, muffled by his lack of shoes. "Hey- are you okay?"

Your answer was an unintelligible mumble.

"Ohh, hey..." Big, warm hand on your back. You instantly felt better. "Do you want to take a break?"

"I can't," you said dryly. "I have a deadline."

"You're worn out, huh?" Clark traced circles into your back, gathering your hair and smoothing it out. "Baby, let's put this away and-"

"No!" You sat up, folding your arms as tears began to spring into your eyes. Clark's pretty blue eyes were wide at your outburst, but he didn't react otherwise. You were too worked up to admire how adorable he looked, glasses slightly askew, curls and tie a little messy. "I can't. I've been trying all day to write and I can't come up with anything and I've wasted so much time figuring it out and I just...just..."

He was quiet for a moment. Then, "Just what, honey?"

You sniffled. "I don't know how to write anymo-ore." The last word trailed off into a cry, and Clark sat up straight, bringing you to lean against him. Your hands flew to his shoulders, clutching his shirt, but then trying to lean away. Tears and wrinkles would ruin the fabric.

"C'mere," he mumbled, bringing you right back to him. "It's okay." Clark paused. "Actually-" He stood up, big hands settling on your hips to lift you up, positioning you on his hip like a baby. You didn't fight it, tightening your legs around him and hiding your face in his neck. Even when he began to exit the room, you remained silent, letting him sit you on the kitchen counter. When you looked at him, his expression was soft, eyes concerned. He reached out, rubbing his warm hands over your thighs. Mercifully he didn't yet mention all you'd said. "How long's it been since you've eaten, sweet girl?"

"Umm." You tried to recall, swaying ever so slightly.

He nodded, tucking your hair behind your ears and brushing his thumbs over your cheekbones for a moment. "Can I make us something?" He asked so softly that you were nodding before the question was fully asked. Clark kissed your forehead, squeezing your thighs. "Okay. I'm gonna go change really quick, okay? Stay here."

You nodded, leaning your head back to rest on the cabinet while he went off into the other room. Indeed, it felt like no sooner than he'd left, he reappeared in just a sweatshirt and his boxers. Lip trembling again, you reached for him, and he obliged, lifting you back to sit on his hip with an "Alright, sweetheart. What're you in the mood for?"

Mumbling into his neck, you shook your head and he squeezed your side. "I know. But you've gotta eat something, angel." Clark opened the fridge one handed, peering inside. "Hmm. We should get groceries tomorrow, huh?" He shut the door and secured both arms around you. "How's pizza sound? We can get garlic bread." When your tummy grumbled, he smiled. "We'll get it from the place down the street."

Clark sat carefully down on the couch, shifting sideways so he was lying across it. While he dialed the number, he pressed his hand to your lower back, smiling when you sprawled yourself out on top of him.

As he placed the order for delivery, you smiled at the way his deep voice felt vibrating against you. This was the sound of home. He kept a hand on your back until he hung up, setting his phone aside and somehow snuggling you closer, letting his hand trail under your shirt and warming your back. "Pizza will be here soon."

"Mm," you sighed, cozy on his chest. You didn't know what you would do sometimes if you didn't have a big, warm man to lay on. Already, your mind was going fuzzy, and not in the way it'd been all day. No, with Clark it was more like you didn't need to have a survival instinct because he was there. He'd keep you safe.

When the food came, he gently eased you off to answer the door, and you hid under your fluffy blanket while he did. The smell of the specialty from the place Clark had ordered from tickled your nose, and your mood lightened even more. He'd known exactly what you wanted when you didn't.

"Sweetie?" You lifted the blanket to see him setting two boxes on the coffee table.

Springing to sit up, you watched as he opened the box to the glorious sight of fresh pizza. The garlic bread was somehow an even happier sight.

"There's my happy girl," he smiled as you reached for a slice. Clark settled in next to you with a piece of his own, and you cuddled happily into him, feeling miles away from where you were when he found you.

The two of you were quiet as you ate, and when you'd polished off the food, you were snuggling back into him. Clark positioned his arm around you, pulling you to lay back on his chest. "You feeling better?"

"Mhm," you hummed happily, reaching up to kiss his cheek. "I was just frustrated."

"You just needed some food, huh, cutie?" Clark smiled, kissing your head and pressing you to his side.

"Yeah," you giggled, nuzzling your head into him. He kissed your forehead, bringing the blanket over the two of you again.

"No more working for the rest of today, alright?" he mumbled, pulling your legs over his lap. "You've done so much, baby."

"Not really," you mumbled, but still you let him pull you in, make you forget about all that had ailed you previously.

And cuddled into him, it was harder to remember than not.

[nocturnebite]

Clickbait [+..••]

(is this real) - gamer! Ni-ki x fem! reader

synopsis: He wasn’t supposed to swipe back. But now you’re trading late-night calls with a too-perfect gamer, and it feels real—until his past comes crashing in. Was he genuine… or just another kind of clickbait? fic notes: dating apps... ew || banter || mild trust issues || fluff :3 wc: 4.87k

ash's notes: this idea has been in my head for so long and i really wanted to write it and now i'm finally done! i've got so many drafts i need to post it's unreal. but i hope you enjoy this little story :3 !!

“Okay, spill. How was it?”

You blink at your friend, the flickering glow of the café’s fairy lights reflecting in her eyes as she leans forward, resting her chin on her palm like she’s about to hear the juiciest gossip of the year. The table between you smells of burnt caramel and overpriced matcha, and you’ve barely touched your drink. You draw a slow breath, the kind that tastes like disappointment, and offer a flat smile.

“Just more clickbait,” you say.

Your friend groans like it physically hurts her. “No way.”

You nod, slouching in your chair as if gravity itself has finally gotten too heavy to resist. “He said he was six feet. He was five-seven, max. His pictures were from, like, 2018. And he talked about crypto for an hour straight. I didn’t even know people still did that.”

She winces. “Oof.”

You sigh again, softer this time, letting the frustration settle in your chest. “I’m so tired of people pretending to be someone they’re not. I get it—it’s a dating app. Everyone's performing. But why does it feel like I’m the only one actually showing up as me?”

Your friend plays with her straw, thoughtful. “So... you’re giving up?”

You shrug. “I think I’ve officially retired. I’ll knit. Adopt a cat. Maybe start writing angry Yelp reviews.”

“Oh, come on.” She bumps your arm. “You can’t just quit. I had a good date last week, remember? It’s not all trash.”

“Yeah, and I’m thrilled for you,” you say honestly. “But you’re, like, the one-in-a-million success story they use in the ads. I’m the cautionary tale.”

“Stop it,” she says, dragging out the last word like a scolding mom. “You’re gorgeous, funny, smart. You deserve something good.”

You smile, a bit tired around the edges, and tilt your head. “Tell that to the last guy who said ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ on his profile.”

She groans and grabs your phone from the table. “Let’s just look, okay? You don’t have to marry anyone tonight.”

You eye her skeptically. “You’re relentless.”

“And you’re tragic. Come on.”

You sigh but relent, taking the phone back. The app lights up like a slot machine as you open it. Familiar profiles slide past your thumb: shirtless mirror selfies, vague bios with gym stats, a suspicious number of “entrepreneurs.”

Some match with you. You don’t swipe back. Some are clearly bots, or worse—people who look like they borrowed someone else’s face.

And then you see him.

Your thumb freezes.

Tall. Jet-black hair, slightly tousled like he just got up from a gaming chair but still looks model-ready. Hooded eyes. Full lips. That smirk—cocky, unreadable, like he knows something you don’t.

“Holy—” your friend leans over the screen. “Swipe. Now.”

“No,” you say immediately, locking the phone like it just burned you. “Absolutely not. He’s definitely fake.”

“Are you kidding me? That man looks like a Greek god and you’re not even curious?”

“He looks like trouble,” you mutter. “He’s hot. He knows it. Probably a Twitch streamer with a Discord full of girls who call him ‘daddy.’ I’m not signing up for that.”

Your friend laughs so hard she nearly spills her drink. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” you insist, though your heart is pounding for reasons you can’t explain. “It’s written all over his face.”

“But what if it’s not? What if—plot twist—he’s the one that breaks the pattern?”

You hesitate.

“Just swipe,” she pleads. “Worst case, you don’t match and never see him again. Best case…”

You shake your head, but you can already feel yourself giving in. Still, before you can decide, your friend snatches the phone and swipes right with a dramatic flourish.

You gape at her. “Did you just—?!”

“No match,” she says, showing you the screen. “Happy?”

You exhale, weirdly deflated. “Honestly? Yeah. I mean, he’s probably got a million people trying to match with him.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it just wasn’t your moment.”

You nod, lips pressed together as you slide your phone into your bag. “Well, I’m done for the night. I’m going home, washing my face, and watching something stupid.”

She stands with you, grinning. “Good. You deserve to turn your brain off. But hey…” she pauses, her smile softening. “Don’t give up completely, okay? I’ve got a good feeling.”

You roll your eyes but give her a hug goodbye.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

That night, you toss your keys onto your desk, the screen of your phone lighting up just as you’re about to plug it in.

1 New Message - [Tinder]

You frown, opening it automatically, expecting another “hey cutie” from someone who can’t spell your name right.

But the screen shows something else entirely.

You matched with Riki.

Your heart stops.

Your hands go cold.

You blink at the message, then again—just to make sure your eyes aren’t playing tricks.

The same face. The same smirk. The guy who was too good to be true…

Matched with you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

You don’t open the message right away.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re busy—brushing your teeth, feeding the dog, picking at dinner you don’t even taste—but deep down, you know it’s because you’re scared.

You already decided not to get your hopes up again. You’ve already been down this road before—the one where a hot guy matches, flirts, builds you up like you’re the only girl on earth, only to ghost you the second things feel real.

Still.

You tap the app. His message is waiting.

Riki: Thought I was imagining things for a sec. Didn’t expect the girl with the death-glare profile pic to swipe back 😅

Your nose scrunches. Death glare?

You flip to your own profile, stare at the photo your friend picked—half-smiling, eyes a little dead inside.

Okay, fair.

You: Yeah well. Didn’t expect the cocky gamer guy to swipe either. So I guess we’re both glitching tonight. Riki: I’m not cocky. I’m just... factually confident. And good with my thumbs.

You roll your eyes and try not to smile. You fail.

You: That’s exactly something a cocky guy would say. Riki: Damn. She’s clever too. I’m in trouble.

You don’t respond right away. Not because you don’t want to—but because something in your chest tightens at how easy it is. The flow. The banter. Like slipping into an old sweater you forgot still fit.

And somehow, it stays like that.

No “wyd” texts. No pressure. Just long, meandering conversations that start late and end later. You find out he streams sometimes, but only for fun. He has a little sister he’s protective over. He learned to cook because his mom works nights. His favorite genre is horror, but he’s a total baby when it comes to jump scares.

He doesn’t ask for selfies. Doesn’t hint at anything sketchy. In fact, half the time it feels like he genuinely just wants someone to talk to.

Which is kind of nice.

It turns into a rhythm: He messages. You reply. You laugh. You tease. You talk until your phone is warm in your hand and your eyes sting from lack of sleep.

Riki: You’re fun. You: You’re not what I expected. Riki: That’s either the best compliment or a red flag in disguise. You: I’ll let you know which later.

It’s two weeks in when he says it.

You’re half-asleep, curled in bed, squinting at his message through one heavy eyelid.

Riki: Random idea You should come visit sometime

You blink. Sit up a little.

You: …what? Riki: Like, no pressure. Just throwing it out there. I’ll even pay for the flight if it makes it easier.

You stare at your screen like it just called you by your middle name.

You: Uhh. Red flag alert. Guy offering to pay for your flight? That’s how true crime documentaries start. Riki: Rude. I don’t even own duct tape. You: That’s exactly what someone with duct tape would say. Riki: Touché.

You toss your phone onto the bed, pull the blanket over your face, and scream into it.

Then obviously you FaceTime your best friend.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

“You’re being dramatic,” she says, chewing a mouthful of chips. “You two have been talking nonstop for, what, three weeks?”

“Two and a half.”

“Exactly. That’s like, seven months in internet time. Honestly, if you were dating IRL, people would be asking when the wedding is.”

You throw your head back with a groan. “It’s not like that. We’re just… friends. Kind of. With... light sarcasm and subtle tension.”

“So... dating.”

“NO!”

She levels you with a look. “You like him.”

“I like the version of him that lives in my phone. That doesn’t mean he’s real.”

“Then FaceTime him.”

You blink. “What?”

“If you’re nervous he’s not who he says he is, video chat. If he’s a catfish, boom—case closed. If he’s real... then you’ll know.”

You sit with that for a second.

Then you do it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

The first FaceTime is awkward in a cute way. He’s lounging in a hoodie with messy hair and a controller in his lap. You’re in your worst pajama shirt, already regretting not putting on concealer.

But he smiles when he sees you—no hesitation, no filters, no pause.

“Yo,” he says like it’s no big deal.

“You’re real,” you blurt before you can stop yourself.

He laughs. “That’s what I was gonna say.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

One call turns into two.

Two turns into three.

Three turns into four—until it’s a quiet comfort, this unspoken ritual of being online together, even when you’re not talking.

You study. He games. Sometimes he curses under his breath. Sometimes you hum without realizing it. Neither of you hangs up first.

The screen just stays on.

And somewhere between late-night calls and sleepy “goodnights,” it stops feeling like a maybe.

It starts to feel like something real.

One night, while adjusting his mic and opening some game you don’t recognize, he says it again:

“You should come visit.”

This time, it sounds less like a joke.

And more like a hope.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

“You should come visit.”

It’s not the first time he’s said it. 

But this time… it’s different.

His voice is soft through your laptop speaker, his hoodie bunched up around his elbows as he clicks through some loading screen. You’re lying sideways on your bed, textbooks open, highlighter uncapped, but your focus vanished the second he said those four words.

You don’t answer right away. Just chew your lip and stare at the screen where he’s pretending not to look at you.

“That’s like the fifth time you’ve asked”

“I’m serious,” he says after a beat. “I mean… if you want to.”

There’s that voice again. Casual, light, no pressure. Like he’s talking about ordering takeout, not asking you to fly across the country and see if he’s actually the person you’ve been falling asleep on FaceTime with every night.

You close your textbook.

“Riki.”

He glances over. The game’s paused now. You can see the flicker of the screenlight reflected in his cheekbones. He looks tired. Warm. Real.

“Yeah?”

“You’re not like… secretly plotting to harvest my organs, right?”

He snorts. “I literally stream Minecraft, not organ trafficking.”

“Not a convincing alibi.”

He grins, then sobers. “I get it. It’s a big ask. But I meant it when I said I’d help. I’d book the flight. You’d stay at a hotel if you want, no pressure. I wouldn’t be weird.”

“That’s what all the weird ones say.”

“Okay,” he says, deadpan. “I’d be only a little weird. Like, manageable-weird. Charming-weird.”

You laugh, and that’s the problem.

Because you like him. More than you meant to.

You liked the idea of him at first. A distraction. A match your friend forced. But now… it’s not just the banter or the voice you’ve memorized or the ridiculous way he says “dude” when he’s excited.

It’s how he makes you feel like the only person in the room—even through a screen.

And that? That’s dangerous.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

The next day, you bring it up to your best friend over lunch.

Her response is immediate: “You have to go.”

You blink. “Okay, but what if he’s not—”

“You FaceTime him literally every night.”

“What if he’s different in person?”

“He watches K-dramas and talks to your dog through the phone. You already know him better than half the guys you’ve actually dated.”

You stare at your untouched sandwich.

“I just…” You swallow. “What if I go and it ruins it?”

She’s quiet for once.

Then: “What if you don’t… and it ruins you?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

That night, you don’t say yes.

You say, “I’m thinking about it.”

You say, “It’s a maybe.”

And he doesn’t push.

Instead, he smiles at you—gentle and slow, like he knows you’re a scared thing on the edge of something, and he’s not going to rush you off it.

“I can wait,” he says simply.

You believe him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

The next week, something shifts.

Not in a dramatic way—no confessions, no intense moment of clarity—but in all the quiet ways that matter more.

You fall asleep on call, and he whispers, “Goodnight,” like a secret. You wake up to a message from him with a screenshot of a dumb meme he swears “just felt like you.” He starts calling you by your name more, not just your username.

One night, in the middle of a game, he glances at his screen and says, out of nowhere: “Do you always look at me like that?”

You blink. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying not to.”

You don’t have an answer.

So you call again. And again.

By the time it’s the sixth night in a row, you’re not even nervous anymore. You’re just… used to it. Comfortable. You study, he plays. You breathe. He listens.

Sometimes you don’t talk for twenty minutes.

And it feels like home.

That night, he says it again—quieter this time.

“You should come visit.”

And this time… You don’t say no.

You just look at him—pixelated and beautiful—and whisper, “Maybe.”

And he smiles like maybe is everything.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

It starts with a ticket in your inbox.

No subject line. No message. Just an email that reads:

“Your flight to Seoul has been confirmed.”

You blink.

Then your phone buzzes.

Riki: Don’t panic. You can still say no. I’ll cancel it in a second if you’re uncomfortable. Just… wanted to make it real. In case you say yes.

Your heart is doing weird things.

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard, your thoughts a loud chorus of what ifs and you’re crazy and this boy could be everything or nothing or both.

You: Give me three days. If I don’t back out by then… I’ll go.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You don’t back out.

Your friend screams when you tell her. She helps you pack—overpacks, really—like you’re heading into battle instead of a long weekend. She even shoves a tiny pink can of pepper spray in your purse “just in case he’s secretly a weirdo.”

(You both know he’s not. But still. Pepper spray is ✨ aesthetic ✨.)

The night before the flight, you barely sleep. You FaceTime Riki and end up playing “21 questions” until 2am, your voices slow and sleepy.

“What if it’s weird?” you ask.

“What if it’s not?” he replies.

You hate that that makes you smile.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

At the airport, your nerves riot inside you. The terminal smells like pretzels and nerves and new beginnings.

By the time the plane lands, your hands are cold and your thoughts are loud.

You look around baggage claim, eyes darting.

Then—you see him.

He’s leaning against a pillar, hoodie half-zipped, hair tucked under a black cap. There’s a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He’s scrolling his phone, one hand in his pocket.

He doesn’t see you yet.

And in that second, you think—he looks like trouble. But the good kind.

Then he looks up.

And smiles.

Not the polite kind. Not the awkward oh-hi-nice-to-meet-you kind.

The I know you already kind.

And just like that— You’re not nervous anymore.

The first five minutes are weird.

Of course they are.

You both talk too fast. Or not at all. He goes in for a hug, and you kind of flinch, so he backs off and jokes, “Guess I deserved that.” And you say, “No, I’m just—processing,” and then neither of you talk for five minutes straight in the car.

But then he says, “You hungry?” And you say, “Always.”

And suddenly… you’re fine again.

The first night is a blur of fast food eaten in his car, music playing low, and a midnight walk through a neighborhood you don’t know but don’t mind getting lost in.

At one point, he bumps his shoulder into yours and says, “You’re taller than I expected.”

You deadpan, “You’re not.”

He laughs so hard he nearly drops his drink.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day, you hang out at his place.

He’s more nervous than you’ve ever seen him—rambling about his cable setup, offering snacks every five seconds, adjusting his monitor like he’s auditioning for HGTV.

But you sit on his bed, cross-legged, and just watch.

And after a while, he calms down.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he mumbles.

You shrug. “You’re real.”

He gives you a look. “Still convinced I was a catfish?”

“No,” you say. “But this part still doesn’t feel real.”

He sits beside you. Not touching. Just close.

“Same.”

- - - - - - - - - - - -

At night, you fall asleep on his couch watching him game—your legs draped over his lap, your heart refusing to chill out. You pretend to be tired just to stay where you are.

He doesn’t move.

Just shifts the blanket higher over your knees, one hand resting lightly on your shin. You catch him glance at you once. Twice.

But he never says what you both know.

Not yet.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

And then—on the last night—you’re both lying side by side, watching some movie neither of you are really paying attention to. His fingers are brushing against yours on the bedspread. Barely. But enough.

He turns his head. “Hey.”

You look at him.

He looks nervous.

“Do you ever think… if we’d met in person first, it wouldn’t have worked?”

You blink. “Why?”

“I think I needed to know you before I liked you. Like, for real. The real you.”

You smile. “I was a mess when we met.”

He laughs. “You still are.”

You kick his leg. “Hey.”

He looks at you then—really looks.

“Still the best kind of mess I’ve ever met.”

Your breath catches.

But before either of you can say anything else—your phone buzzes. Loud. Jarring.

You frown and reach for it, expecting your friend checking in.

It’s not.

It’s a direct message request.

From someone you don’t recognize.

And it says:

“You think you’re the only one he’s talking to?”

Your blood goes cold.

You look up.

And Riki—still smiling, still relaxed—doesn’t notice the shift in your face.

Yet.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You read the message again.

“You think you’re the only one he’s talking to?”

The screen blurs. Your chest tightens. The room—warm and dim and full of the scent of Riki’s hoodie you’ve been curled in—suddenly feels foreign. Hollow.

Riki says something beside you. A dumb joke. You don’t hear it.

“Hey.” His voice cuts through. “You okay?”

You lock your phone and force a smile. “Yeah. Just my friend checking in.”

A lie.

You’ve never lied to him before.

It feels worse than the message.

You try to ignore it. Brush it off. A troll. A bot. A jealous girl with no life. Whatever.

But the message festers.

The next day, you wake up to another.

“I hope he told you about me. Or about our FaceTimes.”

You don’t reply. You can’t.

You don’t know what to believe.

So instead, you test him.

“Hey,” you say casually, the next time you’re lying on the couch with him.

“Hmm?” he says, eyes on his screen.

“You ever… talk to other girls on here? Like, before me?”

He pauses. Glances at you. “You mean on Tinder?”

You shrug. “Or in general.”

He leans back. “I mean, yeah. Before you. But nothing like this. Nothing real.”

You nod. Try to smile. But the words loop in your head.

Before you. Before you. Before you.

But what if before never ended?

- - - - - - - - - - - -

By the third message, it’s not subtle anymore.

“He sent me the same flight email. I still have it.” [Attached: a screenshot]

Same subject line. Same dates. Different name.

You feel sick.

You don’t want to accuse him. You don’t want to need to.

So you ask.

“Riki… have you ever done this before?”

He blinks. “Done what?”

“This. Flying someone out. Meeting people from the app.”

There’s a beat.

Then: “Why are you asking?”

He doesn’t deny it.

And that hurts more than any answer.

You go silent.

The car ride back to the hotel is heavy.

He notices. Of course he does.

“Okay,” he says, pulling into the parking lot. “What’s going on?”

You don’t look at him. “Just tired.”

“You’re lying.”

You snap. “So are you.”

He goes quiet.

The kind of quiet that confirms everything.

You swallow. “Someone messaged me. Said you were FaceTiming them. Said you flew them out. Same message. Same dates.”

His jaw tightens. “It’s not what you think.”

You laugh, sharp. “That’s funny, because it looks exactly like what I think.”

Then—softer: “I didn’t expect this to be perfect, Riki. I just didn’t want to be stupid for trusting you.”

He doesn’t say anything.

And that silence? It feels like betrayal.

You go inside the hotel alone.

The second the door closes behind you, you slide to the floor.

You don’t cry. Not yet. You’re not sure you’re allowed to. Not for someone who was never yours.

But your phone buzzes again.

Riki: I didn’t lie. Not about you. Can we talk?

And you don’t know if you’re ready.

But your heart?

It already misses him.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You don’t answer his messages.

Not at first.

Not because you want to punish him—but because you’re scared that if you open the door, you’ll let him talk you back into something that maybe wasn’t even real.

You need space. He gives it to you. For about twelve hours.

Then your phone rings.

It’s your friend.

“You need to check Twitter,” she says.

Your stomach drops. “What?”

“Just… look.”

- - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s a clip.

From one of Riki’s streams.

He’s laughing in it, leaned back in his chair, wearing a hoodie you recognize because you wore it two nights ago.

One of his friends says something off-screen:

“So you’re just gonna disappear for four days and not explain why?”

Riki shrugs. “I’m flying someone out.”

“A girl?”

He grins. “The girl.”

The chat explodes. Emojis. Screaming.

His friend hoots. “You’re in love.”

Riki doesn’t deny it.

Just goes quiet for a second. Then says, low and sure,

“She’s different. You’ll see.”

You stare at the screen.

Your breath stutters.

You scroll down. The comments are a storm. Most of them are pure chaos and ship names and thirsty fans screaming “SOFT LAUNCH???”

But some…

Some are ugly.

And one account keeps showing up.

One you recognize from the message requests.

@ KikiLuvsRiki: don’t fall for his act. i used to be “different” too. he just wants content. @ KikiLuvsRiki: bet he sent her the same flight confirmation template he used last year LMFAO.

Your hands shake.

Then a post from her, timestamped four hours ago:

“Imagine thinking you’re special to someone who rehearsed the same lines with me. He just swapped the name.”

There’s a screenshot attached.

Of a flight confirmation email.

But it’s dated last year.

Same airline. Different destination. Different name.

But the same tone.

You click the profile.

Scroll.

And what you find?

It’s not a random hater.

It’s his ex.

That night, your phone rings again.

Riki.

You don’t want to answer.

You do anyway.

“I should’ve told you,” he says, voice low, rough. “I just didn’t think she’d find out. I didn’t think it would matter.”

You sit on the edge of the hotel bed, silent.

“I mentioned you on stream. I never do that. You know I don’t. And I didn’t even say your name—I was just… talking. I couldn’t help it. I was excited. I’m always careful, but this time I wasn’t.”

“Because of me?”

“Yeah,” he says, barely a whisper. “Because of you.”

Your heart twists.

“She saw the stream,” he adds. “And I guess she still had old screenshots or whatever. She’s not wrong—I flew her out once. A long time ago. We weren’t even a thing for more than a couple weeks, but she stuck around online. And when I stopped responding, she got weird.”

You exhale. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was scared you’d think I was doing the same thing again. That I was collecting girls off the internet and making them fall for me or something.”

“And aren’t you?” you ask, voice quiet.

Silence.

Then:

“No.” “I wasn’t trying with anyone else.” “I didn’t even plan to swipe on your profile. I saw you, and it just—hit me. Harder than I expected. You weren’t just pretty. You looked real. Like someone I could ruin myself for if I wasn’t careful.”

You bite your lip.

He continues. “I didn’t swipe right first. But when we matched… I knew. I’ve never been like this with anyone else. Not even her.”

Your chest aches.

“But I should’ve told you,” he says. “That’s on me. I’ll make it up to you. Or I won’t. If this ruins it, I’ll live with that. But you deserved the truth.”

You let the silence sit.

It’s not that you don’t believe him.

It’s that you want to.

And maybe that scares you most of all.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The airport feels colder than it should.

Maybe it’s the early flight. Maybe it’s the sleep you didn’t get. Maybe it’s because you thought he’d fight harder.

You roll your suitcase forward.

Every step feels heavier than it should. Like maybe your heart stayed back at the hotel. Or in that voicemail you haven’t listened to yet.

“I get it if you’re done. But I’m not.” “Not with you.”

You clench your jaw. Shake your head. Keep walking.

You did what you were supposed to.

You gave him a chance to explain. You didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. Didn’t make a scene when your feelings got kicked around like some bonus level prize in his online world.

You let him talk.

You just didn’t stay.

Not this time.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Your gate is five minutes away.

You wrap your arms around yourself and try not to think.

The check-in lady takes your ID.

“Round trip?” she asks, typing.

You hesitate. Then shake your head.

“Just one way.”

She nods, unfazed. Prints your ticket.

You turn around—

And nearly crash into him.

Riki. Standing there. Breathless. Hoodie crooked. Hair messy. Like he ran.

And didn’t stop.

You freeze. “What—how did you—?”

“I tracked your flight.” His voice is hoarse. “Don’t be mad.”

You blink. “Are you serious right now?”

He swallows hard. “I wasn’t gonna let you leave thinking I didn’t mean it. That you were just some... random screen name.”

“Riki—”

“No,” he says, stepping closer. “Let me talk. Please.”

Your heart races. Your throat tightens.

He exhales. “I don’t care who’s watching. I don’t care if this is pathetic. I’ve never wanted something like this before. Not like this. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You don’t say anything.

He runs a hand through his hair.

“I messed up,” he says. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve known she'd try something the second I opened up. That’s on me. But don’t let her be the reason we don’t happen.”

You feel the tears sting before they fall.

He sees it.

Softens.

Steps forward like he’s trying not to scare you off.

“I’ve never had what we have,” he whispers. “The FaceTimes. The quiet. The way I don’t need to perform when I’m with you. You didn’t fall for the persona. You fell for me. And I—I need you to know I fell right back.”

You sniff. Wipe your eyes.

“And if that means I have to fly to every city you run to just to say it again, I will.”

You meet his eyes.

“I wanted to believe you,” you say. “I still do.”

“Then do,” he whispers. “Let me prove it.”

You pause.

Search his face.

And for the first time in days, the panic starts to melt. The ache eases.

Not completely. But enough.

You step closer.

And his shoulders drop—like he was holding his breath for too long.

“I hate you,” you whisper.

He smiles.

“No you don’t.”

You shake your head. “I don’t.”

Then, softer: “You’re lucky I like dramatic airport gestures.”

And when you wrap your arms around him, burying your face into the hoodie you never gave back—he just holds you.

Not like he won.

Like he’s grateful you stayed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BONUS :)

Later, after the flight you didn’t take…

You’re on his stream.

Just your voice.

He reads a question from chat:

“Are you guys together now?”

He looks at you off-camera.

Smiles.

Then to the chat: “She’s sitting right here, isn’t she?”

You groan. “You’re so annoying.”

He grins wider. “But you like me.”

And you don’t deny it.

Not this time.

tl: (read rules before asking to be added to any list ᥫ᭡. )

[supercap2319]

Reed fumbles with a device, looking befuddled, while Johnny tries to help, playing it cool. "Ah, come on, Reed, it's not that hard! You just need to..." Reed looks up, aghast, as Johnny accidentally causes the device to malfunctions. It sparks as Y/N walked into Reed's lab.

With a heavy sigh, Reed, running a hand through his hair as he picks up, and examines the damaged device. "Great, just great." Johnny looks sheepish, shrugging apologetically. "I was just trying to help, okay?" Reed shoots him a disapproving glare. "Help? You call that helping?"

"It was an accident, Reed. Don't be so uptight." Johnny said.

"Uptight? You think I'm being uptight?" Reed asked. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to calibrate this thing?"

"What was it supposed to do?" Y/N asked, making his presence known in the laboratory. Reed sighs, setting the device down. "It was supposed to be a new prototype for the force field generator. But now..."He gestures to the broken device. "Now, it's just a pile of useless parts." Johnny plops down on the nearby couch, looking unimpressed.

"Johnny? Don't you have something you wanna say?" Y/N asked.

Johnny grins mischievously, leaning forward. "Oh, I've got plenty to say." He looks at Reed, then back at Y/N. "You know Reed's gonna be sulking for weeks now, right?"

"Well, why wouldn't he be? He worked hard on that device. How would you feel if you were working on your 2004 Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren C199, and I just went in and messed up the motor or something?"

The blonde laughs, standing up from the couch. "Oh, please. Like you even know how to work on a car, Y/N." He walks over to the broken device, picking it up and examining it. "Besides, it's not like Reed can't just build another one."

"That's not the point, Johnny. The point is that you need to apologize. And screw you. I do know about cars. Y/N said.

Reed watches the exchange with a mix of amusement and frustration, arms crossed. Johnny drops the device on the table, turning to face Y/N with mock seriousness. "Oh, yeah? Prove it." He grins playfully. "If you can fix a car down in the garage, I'll apologize to Reed. Hell, I'll even help him work on it."

"Fine. I will. Show me to the car. And the wrench. And that thing you use to take off the bolts on the tire of the car." Y/N said. Johnny chuckles, leading Y/N towards the garage with a smug grin. "Right this way, gearhead. Try not to get grease on your hands—unless you're into that sort of thing." Reed follows reluctantly, shaking his head.

[elswhore]

hey gorg! congrats on the 2,000!! you deserve it. i was wondering if you could per chance do a angst to fluff with prompt 7? with ju, maybe someone was sending mixed signals and and they get in a lil argument but work things out.

(i’m so sorry this is long i wasn’t sure how to explain it🙃)

prompt 7 "tell me what you want" ── angst to fluff.

thank you so muchh!. sorry i dont get it.. but i tried hope i did wrote it right. (btw i loved writing this)

you paced the living room, your phone clutched tightly in your hand, replaying the last few weeks in your mind, juju’s laugh, her teasing smirks, the way her hand lingered on your arm a little too long moments that felt like promises.

but then there were the days she’d pull back, her texts short and distant, her eyes avoiding yours when you tried to get closer, the mixed signals were driving you up the wall, and you were done, the front door clicked open, and juju stepped inside, her dark hair loose around her shoulders, her gym bag slung over one arm.

she looked at you, her brows lifting slightly at the tension radiating off you. “hey,” she said, her voice casual, like she hadn’t noticed the storm brewing in your eyes. “what’s up?” you stopped pacing, turning to face her, your grip on your phone tightening.

“what’s up?” you echoed, your voice sharp with the frustration you’d been bottling for weeks. “juju, I’m so fucking tired of this, one day you’re all over me, flirting, acting like you want something real, and the next you’re cold, like i’m just some friend you barely care about, do you even know how confusing that is?”

juju’s expression faltered, her bag sliding off her shoulder to the floor as she straightened, her eyes locking onto yours. “what are you talking about?” she asked, but there was a defensive edge to her voice, like she was bracing for a fight. “don’t play dumb,” you snapped, stepping closer, your emotions spilling over.

“you know exactly what i mean, you’ll text me at midnight, saying shit that makes my heart race, then ghost me for two days, you’ll hug me like you never want to let go, then act like it’s nothing when i try to talk about us, i can’t keep doing this, juju. i’m not some game you can pick up and drop whenever you feel like it.”

your voice cracked on the last sentence, and you hated how vulnerable it made you sound, but you couldn’t stop now. “i like you, okay? i’ve liked you for so long, and i thought—i thought you felt something too, but if you don’t, just say it, stop stringing me along, because i can’t take it anymore.”

the room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging between you, juju’s face softened, the defensiveness melting away as she took in your trembling hands, the raw hurt in your eyes, she stepped forward, closing the distance, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

“don’t,” you said, your voice quieter now, but firm. “eon’t just hug me or say something cute to smooth this over, need to know where you stand.” juju stopped, her hands falling to her sides, for a moment, she looked lost, her usual confidence replaced by something softer, almost uncertain.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice low, genuine. “i didn’t mean to mess with your head, i just… i’m not good at this.” you frowned, crossing your arms, still guarded. “good at what? being honest? caring about someone?”

“no,” she said quickly, her eyes searching yours. “figuring out how to let myself want this, want you, without freaking out..i know i've been all over the place, and that’s on me, i get close, and then i pull back because… i don’t know, i’m scared of screwing it up..but i do care, i care so much it fucks me up sometimes.”

her words hit you hard, unraveling some of the anger but leaving the hurt behind, you swallowed, your throat tight. “then why can’t you just show it? why do i have to feel like i'm chasing you all the time?”juju’s shoulders sagged, and she ran a hand through her hair, exhaling shakily.

“because i’m an idiot,” she admitted, a small, self deprecating smile tugging at her lips. “and because i’ve never felt like this before, not this much, i keep thinking if i hold back, i’ll protect myself or whatever, but all i’m doing is hurting you, nd i hate that.” ehe stepped closer again, and this time you didn’t pull away.

her hands hovered near your arms, hesitant, like she was waiting for permission. “tell me what you want,” she said softly, her voice raw, her eyes pleading. “i don’t want to lose you, i just need to know how to fix this.” your heart ached at the vulnerability in her voice, the way she was laying herself bare for the first time.

you took a shaky breath, your anger softening as you looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the sincerity in her eyes. “i want you to stop running,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. “i want you to be real with me, even if it’ messy, if you’re scared, say it, if you want me, show it, just… be here. with me.”

juju nodded, her eyes glistening slightly as she closed the gap, her hands finally settling gently on your arms. “i’m here,” she whispered, her thumbs brushing soft circles against your skin.