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ᥬTᕼᗴ ᑕᖇOᗯᗪ​᭄ ᴍ.ʙ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʙᴀsᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ:⇩

ᴍᴇʀᴇᴛ ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ ʙᴀɴɴᴇʀᴍᴀɴ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ: ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ, ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ sᴄᴇɴᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ ғɪɴᴀʟ ʟɪɴᴇ-ᴜᴘ(ɪғʏᴋʏᴋ), ʏᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ, ʟᴏɴɢɪɴɢ, ɢʜᴏsᴛɪɴɢ, ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴍ.ɪ.ᴀ ʟᴏʟ

ғᴜʟʟ ᴏɴ: ᴀɴɢsᴛ ᴀɴɢsᴛ ᴀɴɢsᴛ ᴀɴɢsᴛ ᴀɴɢsᴛ ᴀɴɢsᴛ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1,253ᴋ

Overview:

She saw you there in the crowd.

When will you ever face her again?

When will you stop running away from her?

When will she finally move on?

ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ sᴀᴡ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɪʀ—ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴜɴᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴀʙʟᴇ ᴄᴀsᴄᴀᴅᴇ ᴏғ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ sᴛʀᴀɴᴅs—ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴡᴅ ᴀs sʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀғᴏʀᴍᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴀᴛs. ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ. ɪᴛ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. sʜᴇ ᴡᴀsɴ’ᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪɴɢs, ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴛɪᴍᴇ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxʜᴀᴜsᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴛʜᴇ sʟᴇᴇᴘʟᴇss ɴɪɢʜᴛs, ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅʟᴇss ʀᴇʜᴇᴀʀsᴀʟs ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴊᴜʀᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ sᴏ ᴠɪᴠɪᴅ. sʜᴇ sᴀᴡ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ sʜᴇ? ɪᴛ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ.

ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɴᴀʟ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ғᴀᴅᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛs ᴅɪᴍᴍᴇᴅ, sʜᴇ ʀᴜsʜᴇᴅ ᴏғғ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀɢᴇ, ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴘᴏᴜɴᴅɪɴɢ. ʙᴀᴄᴋsᴛᴀɢᴇ, sʜᴇ ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ ᴘᴀᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɢʀᴀʙ ʜᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴀᴛ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴘᴜsʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀᴛᴀɪɴs, ᴅᴇsᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ғɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ. ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏɴᴇ.

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴡᴅ ʜᴀᴅ sᴡᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ. ᴇʏᴇᴋᴏɴs sᴜʀɢᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ, sʜᴏᴜᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ, ʀᴇᴀᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇs, ᴘᴏsᴛᴇʀs, ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴀs. sʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜᴇ, ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴋᴀᴛs ᴡᴇʀᴇ sᴛɪʟʟ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ—sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ, ᴀʟʟ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ.

sʜᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ.ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ.ᴛᴏ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ғᴏʀ ᴀ sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ.

ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴀɴɪsʜᴇᴅ. ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ.

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ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs, ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ—ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴅᴇғɪɴɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇs. ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙʀɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴅᴏᴡɴ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ. ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪғᴛᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴜᴘ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴘᴜsʜᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴀsɪᴅᴇ. ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ sᴇssɪᴏɴ—ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ. ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʙʏ ʜᴇʀ sɪᴅᴇ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ sᴛᴇᴘᴘᴇᴅ ɪɴ, ᴡʜᴏ sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ. ɴᴏᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴡʜᴏ sʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ—ʙᴜᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴡʜᴏ sʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ᴡᴀs. ʏᴏᴜ sᴀᴡ ʜᴇʀ sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ, ʜᴇʀ ғɪʀᴇ, ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴇᴡ sʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴅᴀʏ. sʜᴇ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ sᴇᴇ ɪᴛ ʏᴇᴛ. ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅ.

ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ.

ᴛʜᴇ ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢs ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ—ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴡᴏ, ᴜɴᴅᴇɴɪᴀʙʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇʟᴇᴄᴛʀɪᴄ. ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ғᴀᴅᴇᴅ, ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ɢʟᴀɴᴄᴇ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴘᴀᴜsᴇ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ, ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛs: ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴛᴀʟᴋs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟᴀsᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴғᴇssɪᴏɴs ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ.

ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇs—ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ, ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢғᴜʟ. ᴀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀ, ᴀɴ ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ғᴇʟʟ sʜᴏʀᴛ. ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇʟᴅ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɴᴏᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ғᴏʀ sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ. ғᴏʀ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇ. ғᴏʀ ʙᴇʟɪᴇғ. ɪɴ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛs, ɪᴛ ғᴇʟᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴅ.

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛ ᴇʟɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛᴇᴅ.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ sᴏ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɴɪsʜ ʟɪɴᴇ, sᴏ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪssᴇᴅ ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇs sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀᴄᴋ ᴜᴘ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇɴᴇʀɢʏ ғᴀᴅᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʏᴇs ᴅɪᴍᴍᴇᴅ. ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ sᴀɪᴅ ɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴏᴜᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ sᴀᴡ ɪᴛ—ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ ᴡᴀs sʟɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ.

ᴛʜᴇʏ sᴀɪᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇsᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ʀᴇsᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ʜᴏᴍᴇ.

sᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅ. ǫᴜɪᴇᴛʟʏ.

ɴᴏ ɢʀᴀɴᴅ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ. ɴᴏ ғɪɴᴀʟ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ.

ᴊᴜsᴛ… ɢᴏɴᴇ.

ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ, sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ.

sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ. ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ.

ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ʜᴇʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ. ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴜᴘ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ, ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇssᴜʀᴇ ɢʀᴇᴡ ᴛᴏᴏ ʜᴇᴀᴠʏ. ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴊᴜsᴛ ʜᴇʀ ɴᴏᴡ. ʏᴇs, ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɢɪʀʟs ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ—ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʟᴏsᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs, ᴛᴏᴏ ғᴏᴄᴜsᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ. ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs ɴᴏ sᴘᴀᴄᴇ ғᴏʀ sɪsᴛᴇʀʜᴏᴏᴅ, ɴᴏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪɴᴅɴᴇss.

ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ, sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟɪᴛ ᴜᴘ ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ ʜᴇʀ.

sʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɴᴀʟ ʟɪɴᴇᴜᴘ—ɴᴏᴛ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʀsᴇʟғ, ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ. ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀʀʀʏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇғᴛ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ.

ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ sʟᴇᴇᴘʟᴇss ɴɪɢʜᴛs, ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴀʀs, ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ—ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ɪᴛ. sʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ɪᴛ. sʜᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɴᴀʟ ʟɪɴᴇᴜᴘ.

ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs ᴄʀɪᴇᴅ ɪɴ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ’s ᴀʀᴍs, ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ sʜᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴊᴏʏ— sʜᴇ sᴛᴏᴏᴅ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ.

ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇɴ’ᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ.

ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʙᴇ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ, ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ, ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴏᴡ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ.

ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏɴᴇ.

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ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴀɴɪsʜᴇᴅ.

ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛ ᴇʟɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛᴇᴅ, ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ—ɴᴏ ᴄᴀʟʟs, ɴᴏ ᴍᴇssᴀɢᴇs, ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ.

ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛs ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴅᴇʟᴇᴛᴇᴅ ᴏʀ ᴡᴇɴᴛ sɪʟᴇɴᴛ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ғɪɴᴅ ᴀ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ.

ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴀs ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴏᴡ ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ.

ɢᴏɴᴇ.

ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ɢᴏɴᴇ.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ sᴛᴇᴘ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ—ᴊᴜsᴛ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛʟʏ, ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴀᴅᴏᴡs.

sʜᴇ’s ᴀɴ ɪᴅᴏʟ ɴᴏᴡ. sʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ɪᴛ.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴅɪsᴛᴜʀʙ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ ʙʏ sʜᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ.

ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴀʏ—ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ sɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ʟɪғᴇ, ᴀᴡᴀʏ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄs.

sᴛɪʟʟ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇs ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ.

ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ’ʟʟ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʙᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ.

ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪғ ᴏɴʟʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ.

ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ.

ᴡʜʏ? ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ.

ᴛʜᴇʏ sᴀᴡ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏsᴛs—ʜᴇᴀʀᴛғᴇʟᴛ, ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ʜɪɴᴛs ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴡʜᴏ “ɢᴏᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʏ.” ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴡ sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.

ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀɴs ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴅᴇᴠᴀsᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ɪᴅᴏʟ ʟᴏɴɢɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ.

ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ.

ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛs ғʟᴏᴏᴅᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏʟᴅ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛs—ʜᴀʀsʜ ᴡᴏʀᴅs, ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ᴀᴄᴄᴜsᴀᴛɪᴏɴs. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ɴᴀʀᴄɪssɪsᴛ, ʙʟᴀᴍɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ’s ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋ.

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ɪᴛ ɢᴏᴛ ᴡᴏʀsᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴘᴀssɪɴɢ ᴅᴀʏ—ʀᴇʟᴇɴᴛʟᴇss ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ. ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ, ʏᴏᴜ ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ sʜᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ.

sʜᴇ sᴀᴡ ʏᴏᴜ. ʜᴇʀ ᴇʏᴇs ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴜɴᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ sᴛᴏᴏᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴡᴅ, ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴀᴍᴏɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs. ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ, ʙᴜᴛ sʜᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ʏᴏᴜ.

ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ʟɪᴋᴇ sʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ғᴇᴇʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ᴅɪsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ sᴍɪʟᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ʜᴇʀ, sʜᴇ sᴍɪʟᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ.

ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀғᴏʀᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ, sʜᴇ ʀᴜsʜᴇᴅ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ, ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴘᴏᴜɴᴅɪɴɢ, ᴅᴇsᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ.

ʙᴜᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʏᴇᴋᴏɴs sᴛᴏᴏᴅ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴡᴀʏ.

ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ… ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴀɴɪsʜᴇᴅ.

ʏᴏᴜ sʟɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴀᴡᴀʏ—ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ, ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ sɪɢʜᴛ.

ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜʟᴇss ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ, ᴄʜᴀsɪɴɢ ᴀ ɢʜᴏsᴛ sʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴏɴᴛᴏ.

ʟᴀʀᴀ sᴀᴡ ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ—sᴛᴜᴄᴋ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡʜᴇʟᴍᴇᴅ, ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀsᴇʟғ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴀ ᴏғ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ.

ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴡᴀs sʜᴀʟʟᴏᴡ, ʜᴇʀ sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ ғᴀᴅɪɴɢ. ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀs sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜᴍʙʟᴇ, ʟᴀʀᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀᴀʙʙᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴡʀɪsᴛ, ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴏs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ.

ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴅᴏᴡɴ, sʜᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ—sᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏɪsᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴡᴅ.

ʟᴀʀᴀ ɢᴇɴᴛʟʏ sᴀᴛ ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ ᴅᴏᴡɴ, sᴛᴇᴀᴅʏɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴛʀᴇᴍʙʟɪɴɢ ғᴏʀᴍ. sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ, ǫᴜɪᴄᴋʟʏ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ. sʜᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴀᴛ ʟᴀʀᴀ, ᴇʏᴇs ғᴜʟʟ ᴏғ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ. “ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴᴇᴅ? ɪs sʜᴇ ᴏᴋᴀʏ?” sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ ᴀsᴋᴇᴅ sᴏғᴛʟʏ, ᴡᴏʀʀɪᴇᴅ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ.

ʟᴀʀᴀ ʟᴇᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ sɪɢʜ.

“sʜᴇ sᴀᴡ ʏ/ɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴡᴅ.”

sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ’s ᴇʏᴇs ᴡɪᴅᴇɴᴇᴅ ɪɴ sʜᴏᴄᴋ, ᴛʜᴇɴ sʟᴏᴡʟʏ sᴏғᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ—sᴛɪʟʟ sʜᴀᴋᴇɴ, ᴇʏᴇs ᴅɪsᴛᴀɴᴛ.

“ɪ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ʏ/ɴ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sʜᴏᴡ ᴜᴘ,” sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ, ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟᴏᴜᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ғᴏʀ ʟᴀʀᴀ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ. “sʜᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍɪssᴇs.”

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴘᴀᴜsᴇ, ᴀ ʜᴇᴀᴠɪɴᴇss ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏɴᴇ.

“ʙᴜᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴅᴀʏs… sʜᴇ ʜᴀs ᴛᴏ sᴛᴏᴘ ʜɪᴅɪɴɢ. sʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴛᴏ ғᴀᴄᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ.”

ʟᴀʀᴀ ɴᴏᴅᴅᴇᴅ sʟᴏᴡʟʏ, ʜᴇʀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ.

“ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴋᴀʏ?” ᴡᴀs ᴀʟʟ sʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇ.

ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴜᴘ. ʜᴇʀ ʟɪᴘs ᴘᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ sᴏ sᴏғᴛ ɪᴛ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇ—

“sʜᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʏ…”

ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ʜᴜɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅ.

ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴇɴ, ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟᴀ, ʏᴏᴏɴᴄʜᴀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇɢᴀɴ ᴡᴀʟᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ʜᴇʀ sᴘᴇᴀᴋ, sᴀᴡ ʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ—sʜᴀᴋᴇɴ, ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ—ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀsᴋ.

ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴋɴᴇᴡ.

sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.

ɪᴛ's ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀ, ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ɪᴛ's ᴏᴠᴇʀ.

ɪᴛ's ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴏᴠᴇʀ, ᴛɪʟ’ sʜᴇ sᴛᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴡᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʀᴇ sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇs, ʙᴜᴛ sʜᴇ's sᴛɪʟʟ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏs, ᴛɪʟ’ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɢɪʀʟ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴡᴅ.

sʜᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʏ, ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʏ.

━━━━━━༺༻ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━━━━━

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜɪs ᴀs ᴍʏ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴋᴀᴛsᴇʏᴇ ғɪᴄ ᴇᴠᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ᴛᴡɪsᴛᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ɢᴜᴛs ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪ ᴡᴀs ʟɪsᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟ sᴏɴɢ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴᴇ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ɢ-ᴅᴏᴄs, ᴀʟsᴏ ɪᴛ's 1:54ᴘᴍxᴏxᴏxᴏ

eNgLiSh iS nOt gOoD CaUsE i AiN'T it😛

ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀɢ ʏᴇᴛ:(( [...]?

[jalinaalkenza]

F͓̽R͓̽I͓̽E͓̽N͓̽D͓̽S͓̽ ᴍᴇɢᴀɴ sᴋɪᴇɴᴅɪᴇʟ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡɪᴇᴡ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ɢɪᴠɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴏᴘᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ sʜᴇ's ʟᴏsɪɴɢ ɪᴛ— sʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ᴅᴇsᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴇʟʏ.

“WAIT!” Megan’s voice rang out, sharp and desperate, as she sprinted down the hallway after you. She had abandoned her members mid-rehearsal the moment she caught sight of you walking past, head bowed, refusing to look her way. Her footsteps echoed against the walls, chasing you like her words did. “Y/N, please!” she called again, her voice cracking this time, raw with urgency. Each syllable carried the weight of everything unsaid, everything she was terrified of losing. All she wanted was a chance—to reach you, for you to explain, to hold onto the fragile thread before it snapped completely.

Finally, Megan caught up to you, breathless, her chest rising and falling as her hand clutched your wrist. Her grip was tight, trembling, like she was afraid that if she let go, you’d vanish from her life completely. She pulled at you gently, begging for your eyes, begging for the truth.

But you couldn’t. You kept your gaze down, your chest heavy, because looking at her would only shatter the fragile wall you’d built to keep yourself from breaking. After everything, what was there left to see?

Her grip lingered on your wrist, trembling, refusing to let go. Her eyes searched your face, desperate, glassy with the tears she was holding back.

“Tell me,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she leaned closer. “Was it true? Just answer me, Y/N…”

You froze, your chest tightening, the air between you suffocating.

Her voice cracked again, softer this time, almost a plea. “Was I… was I just a friend to you?”

The question cut deeper than anything else she could’ve said. You wanted to answer, but the words lodged in your throat, because no matter what you said, someone would break. And you already felt yourself shattering.

“Megan…” you finally breathed, her name falling from your lips like it weighed a thousand pounds.

The way you said it made her flinch—soft, trembling, but not the answer she was hoping for. Her grip on your wrist tightened for a moment before slowly loosening, as if she could already hear the truth in your tone.

Her eyes glistened, desperate for more, desperate for you to say anything that could heal the crack running through her chest. But you couldn’t bring yourself to go on. The silence between you screamed louder than words ever could. And in that silence, she understood.

“Please…” her voice cracked, breaking into sobs. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t walk away like I meant nothing.” She shook her head violently, her grip tightening around your hand. “Tell me I wasn’t just a friend, Y/N… tell me I wasn’t just someone passing by in your life.”

Her desperation bled into every word, her knees nearly giving in as she clung to you, as though begging could rewrite what had already been broken

To Megan, none of this made sense. At one point, she was yours. She remembered the laughter you shared, the silly arguments that always ended with a smile, the late-night talks, the closeness, the words that felt like promises. That wasn’t just friendship. It couldn’t be.

So why were you acting like it was?

Her chest ached as she looked at you, refusing to meet her eyes. Was I just someone to help you forget your past? she thought. Was I only there to fill the empty space in your heart?

You had her wrapped around your fingers, and she hated how helpless that made her feel. Because to her, what you had was real. It had to be real.

It had to mean something. It had to.

Because if it didn’t… then she had already lost you, and maybe she never truly had you to begin with.

Her tears burned as she swallowed the lump in her throat, anger spilling over the pain. She clenched her fists, her voice louder now, no longer just a plea but a demand. “Just answer me!” Megan snapped, her words trembling with rage and hurt. “Tell me that we were not just friends!”

The words echoed, heavy, before silence pressed in again. She saw the way you froze, the way you couldn’t bring yourself to look at her, and suddenly the anger melted into something worse—regret.

Her chest tightened, tears rushing to her eyes as she shook her head. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to yell… I just—” Her hands trembled as they reached for you, but she pulled back, afraid to push you farther away. “I don’t know what else to do—"

Her tears blurred everything, her chest heaving as she tried to hold herself together. But the weight of it all was too much.

“What the hell are we, Y/N?” she burst out, her voice shaking between anger and heartbreak. “Because I can’t do this anymore—I can’t keep pretending that all of this was just friendship!”

Her fists curled at her sides, then loosened as her strength slipped away. She looked at you with red, tear-stained eyes, her voice dropping to a trembling whisper. “Please… just tell me. Don’t leave me hanging in the dark like this. I need to know what we are… or what we were.”

Her words hung in the air, fragile and desperate, like her whole world depended on your answer.

You finally lifted your eyes to her, and the look alone made Megan’s stomach drop. It wasn’t anger in your gaze. It wasn’t even guilt. It was something worse—pity. “Megan…” you started, your voice low, hesitant, as if each word cut your tongue.

“I can’t give you what you want. I’m… I’m already seeing someone.”

She froze, blinking, trying to process the words. Her lips parted,

Megan’s hands shook as she wiped at her wet cheeks, anger flashing through the heartbreak. “Then tell me, Y/N,” she demanded, her voice hoarse, desperate. “Who is it? Who are you seeing?”

And then you said it. The part that shattered her.

“It’s… a guy.”

For a moment, the hallway felt like it tilted beneath her feet. Her chest tightened until she could barely breathe, every laugh, every touch, every memory flashing in her mind like cruel reminders of something she thought was real. Her hands shook as she whispered, brokenly, “A guy? After everything… after me?”

Her tears finally fell, but she didn’t even bother to wipe them. She laughed bitterly through the sobs, the sound cutting sharp in the silence. “So what was I then? A mistake? An experiment? Something to pass the time until the right one came along?”

Her sobs cut through her words, raw and jagged. She laughed bitterly through the tears, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe the cruelty of it all. “God, I gave you everything—I let myself fall for you—and you’re telling me it meant nothing?”

But then the anger began to drain, leaving her hollow. Her body trembled as she stumbled back a step, her voice softening into something far more painful—resignation. “You could’ve just told me,” she whispered, broken. “You didn’t have to let me believe we were something more.”

Her voice cracked into sobs, but she pressed on, her words trembling with fury. “You made me believe we were something more, And now you’re telling me I was never enough because I’m not him? Because I’m not—” her voice broke completely, “—because I’m not a guy?”

Her chest heaved as she took a step closer, her tears mixing with rage. “So what the hell was I to you, Y/N? Tell me! Was I just practice? Someone to keep you warm until you found what you really wanted?” Her fists clenched, trembling as she shoved at you with all the strength her shaking body had. “Say something!”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came. And that silence—your silence—only shattered her more.

Her anger cracked, the fire inside her collapsing into sobs. She grabbed your wrist again, clutching it desperately, as though letting go meant losing the last piece of you she had left. “Why him and not me?” she begged, her voice breaking. “What does he have that I don’t? Didn’t I give you enough? Didn’t I love you enough?”

Her tears streamed freely now, her voice small and desperate. “Please… tell me it wasn’t all a lie. Tell me I wasn’t just some mistake you regret.”

Her grip on you weakened, her body trembling as she whispered the words that destroyed her. “Just… tell me I mattered to you. Even if it’s only once.”

Her grip on your wrist loosened, trembling, but her eyes clung to you with everything she had left. “Just… tell me I mattered,” she whispered again, her voice so fragile it barely reached your ears repeating her words. “Even if it’s—"

The silence that followed was suffocating. You looked at her—at the tears staining her face, the way she was breaking right in front of you—and for a moment, you almost said something. Almost.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you gently pulled your wrist free, her hand falling limp at her side. Megan’s breath hitched as her fingers curled into nothing, grasping at the air where you used to be.

Your footsteps echoed as you turned and walked away, each one tearing her apart. She wanted to scream, to run after you, to hold on—but her body wouldn’t move. She just stood there, sobbing, as the distance between you grew wider and wider.

By the time you reached the end of the hallway, Megan collapsed to her knees, the sound of her cries filling the empty space you left behind.

And that was it.

To her, it felt like the end of everything.

But even as the hallway blurred through her tears, something inside her refused to let go. Wiping her face with trembling hands, she whispered to herself, almost like a vow, “No… this can’t be it. We weren’t just nothing. I’ll make you see… I’ll make you remember.”

And though her body was broken, her heart still clung to you, fragile but stubborn, refusing to accept that this was truly the end.

For you, it was over.

But for Megan… it wasn’t. Not yet.

[splattynatty1984]

Against The Glass

CEO!Natasha x fem!reader

A/N: been too busy with final exams and projects to finish any longer fic :/ so here’s this! Big thank you to @introverted-author for introducing the concept of an ejaculating strap to me 🤗 Also the quality isn’t something I’m very happy with, but it’s literally all I have right now because my gosh college is going to kill me

Strap-on sex, ejaculating strap, degradation, fake cum, Natasha’s on the phone and you’re getting railed (also it’s in present tense because it was originally a snapshot and I couldn’t stop)

18+ NSFW oneshot | 1k words

The glass your face is pressed against is cold, but that’s the last thing on your mind.

You know the door is unlocked. Anyone could walk in. And anyone on the top level of the building next to Natasha’s could get a view of exactly what she’s doing to you.

Her hands are over yours on the glass—fingers laced through yours, pinning them exactly where she put them. Her blazer is still on. Her collar is still straight. Her phone is pressed between her ear and her shoulder, her voice flat and professional somewhere above your head, talking to someone who has no idea.

She hasn’t slowed down once.

She’s still at the pace she set when she walked you into the glass and it is relentless—hard, deep strokes that drive you into the window with every thrust, your palms squeaking against the glass, your breath fogging it in short sharp bursts that clear and fog and clear again. The strap bottoms out and you feel it in your stomach. The sound that leaves you is immediate, and she speaks another sentence into the phone without missing a beat.

Like you aren’t even there. Like she isn’t absolutely wrecking you against her own window in broad daylight.

“Fogging it all up,” she murmurs into the gap between sentences, dropping her voice low, lips brushing your ear. “Look at the mess you’re making.” She drives forward hard and your forehead hits the glass. “Can barely see the city.”

Then she’s back on the phone. 

The building across is level with the window. Anyone standing at those offices could look over right now and see the shape of you pressed against the glass, face flushed, hands pinned, getting absolutely railed by a woman who is simultaneously discussing quarterly projections. You become aware of this with vivid clarity every time she thrusts forward.

“Pretty little slut,” she says, between sentences, lips at your neck. “Taking it so well while I’m busy.” Her hips slam forward, making you choke on a sound, and she speaks into the phone again, unhurried and unbothered, her free hand coming up to grip your hip hard enough to bruise.

You are soaking. You’ve been that way since before she touched you, since her assistant called you up and you knew—you always know—that she needed you for something other than paperwork. The sounds your body is making around the strap are obscene in the quiet office, wet and audible with every thrust. She doesn’t try to cover them, speaking into the phone right over the top of them like they aren’t happening.

“Dripping down my thighs,” she murmurs between sentences, voice dropping again. “Soaking through the harness. Making a mess of my trousers while I’m trying to work.” A hard thrust. Your nails scratch at the glass.

“Pathetic,” she breathes against your neck, and it lands warm, lands like something she loves about you.

She drives into you harder and you bite down on your lip, pressing your forehead into the glass and breathing through your nose to try to stay quiet. You fail, a moan scraping out of you that she covers by speaking louder into the phone for exactly one sentence before dropping back down.

Her mouth finds your neck. A real kiss—her lips resting against your pulse point for a moment that has nothing to do with the power and everything to do with what lives underneath all of it. You feel her exhale against your skin.

“So good for me,” she murmurs there, soft and private. “Always so good.”

Then she’s back on the phone.

She keeps going. Relentless, switching between sentences into the phone and words against your skin without seam, her hips driving you into the glass over and over. 

Your thighs are shaking. Your whole body is shaking.

“Ms. Romanoff—” It comes out broken, barely a word. “Please—I can’t—”

She hangs up and tosses the phone onto her desk. Both hands slam flat over yours on the glass and she drives into you without restraint now—no call to manage, nothing to moderate around—and the sounds that fill the office are both of yours, her breath rough at your ear and your voice completely gone. She fucks you into the glass until your vision whites out at the edges and your whole body seizes.

“Come on,” she growls against your ear. “Give it to me. Now.”

You cum so hard your knees buckle. She holds you up with the grip of her hands over yours and keeps driving through every second of it, working you through every wave until you’re sobbing with oversensitivity and your hands are trying to pull away from the glass. She pins them there and keeps going for three more strokes just because she can.

Then she stills, and you feel the release. The warmth floods into you thick and sudden all at once. You feel every pulse of it. You feel it when she pulls back slowly—the slick drag, the sting of the stretch—and feel the warmth immediately begin slipping out of you, trailing down your inner thigh, warm against cool skin in the air conditioned office.

Natasha stays behind you, reaching down and pulling the back of your underwear open with two fingers, holding the waistband away from your skin, and she watches the last of the fake cum drip out of her strap and over the curve of your ass and down into the fabric. She says nothing. Her thumb traces your waistband, like she’s admiring her work.

“Mine,” she says quietly. 

She releases the waistband, and it snaps back. Her palm comes down on your ass just once and she smooths the fabric flat against you.

She steps back and straightens her cuffs, composed in approximately four seconds.

“I have a meeting in five minutes.” She’s already at her desk. “Go.”

You peel yourself off the glass on legs that are not reliable, making your way to the door. Your hand finds the handle, and her voice stops you.

“Leave the underwear on.”

You swallow, feeling the fabric stick to you because of the fake cum, a feeling that is close to uncomfortable but the overwhelming desire the thought of it brings to you is enough to offset that. You hear Natasha sit down at her desk, and you catch a glimpse of her smirk.

“And clear your evening.”

[jalinaalkenza]

!꒒ꄲ꒦ꏂꇙ꒐ꉔꀘ ♡ＬＯＶＥＳＩＫ ! 🄺🄰🅃🅂🄴🅈🄴!🄰🅄

⚠️ D⃢ E⃢ S⃢ C⃢ R⃢ I⃢ P⃢ T⃢ I⃢ O⃢ N⃢ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀʟʟ 🅵🅰🅺🅴 ᴀɴᴅ 🆄🅽-🆁🅴🅻🅰🆃🅴🅳 ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏ ʀᴇᴀʟ ʟɪғᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛs ‼️ ᴀɴʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴜᴘ‼️ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀ 🅰🆄 ғɪᴄ‼️⚠️

-ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ ɢɪʀʟs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀs 'ʀɪᴠᴀʟs' - ʙᴀsᴇᴅ ᴏɴ: ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ sɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛᴏʀ [ʟᴏᴠᴇsɪᴄᴋ] - ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪsʜɪ ᴄᴜʀsᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴀssᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ғʀᴏᴍ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ-

WARNING: Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Dark themes, Kidnapping, Description of Torture, Blood and Gore, Suicide, Pregnancy, Yoonchae is fuckass crazy and delusional in this fic, Manipulation, Manon is a Red flag, Sex Եαթҽs, elimination, yandere, mental issues, deep talks, DNI TO ALL WHO ARE SENSITIVE IN ANY OF THESE TOPICS

🦪✿ᥡ᥆᥆ᥒᥴһᥲᥱ'𝒔 ძіᥲ𝒓ᥡ✿🦪

թαցҽ օղҽ: 🄼🅈 🄰🅆🄰🄺🄴🄽🄸🄽🄶 ♡

թαցҽ Եաօ: ᎦᏋᏟᏒᏋᎿᎦ ☺︎

թαցҽ Եհɾҽҽ: 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑷𝑰𝑫𝑰𝑻𝒀 ツ

թαցҽ բօմɾ: ???

թαցҽ բíѵҽ: ???

....???

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴊᴜsᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ ᴏʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴀᴅᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ ツ

[jalinaalkenza]

-ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜs-

𓍯ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜs!ʟᴀʀᴀ ʀᴀᴊ x ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsᴍᴀsᴄ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

"ɪᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴜʟᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴏᴠᴇʀ, ɪ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ɴᴏ ᴅɪsʀᴇsᴘᴇᴄᴛ.

ɪᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ʜᴇʟʟɪsʜ, ɪ sᴛɪʟʟ ɢᴇᴛ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜs."

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ғʟᴜғғ, ʟɪɢʜᴛ sᴍᴜᴛ (ᴏʀ ɪs ɪᴛ👀?) ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴜᴅɢᴇ🤷‍♀️

𝄞ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜs ʙʏ ɴɪᴄᴋ ᴊᴏɴᴀs

Your eyes locked on Lara across the room, the glare almost slipping out before you caught yourself. You hated how they looked at Lara. The way their eyes followed her every move, the way she laughed and leaned in like she didn’t even notice. Maybe it was harmless, maybe it was just her being her—charming, magnetic, impossible to ignore. But it drove you crazy.

Because Lara wasn’t just anybody. She was yours. Or at least, she was supposed to be. So why did it feel like you were competing with the whole room just to keep her eyes on you?

You tried to let it go, sitting back like it didn’t matter. You didn’t want to look like some overprotective jerk. She was yours—that was supposed to be enough. But your eyes never left her.

Lara was still talking, still smiling, letting strangers lean in too close. You downed yourself with whiskey, tequila, even straight up gin, anything to drown out the heat in your chest. Still, it wasn’t enough. Your jaw ached from clenching, your fingers tapping restlessly against the glass.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to breathe past the burn in your chest. Your knuckles were white around the glass, and you hated how obvious it was—how badly the jealousy was eating you alive. But you’d never admit it. Not out loud.

When you opened your eyes again, the sight almost broke you. A guy—tall, handsome, unfairly perfect—was leading Lara onto the dance floor. She smiled, even chuckled, and it hit you harder than the alcohol burning in your veins. That was it. Pride slipped away, swallowed by something darker. The drinks had finally caught up, and so had the storm inside you. You pushed yourself to your feet, eyes locked on her, your stare sharp enough to cut. You weren’t just a pretty face no more. No—right then, you were nothing but fire, jealousy, and the dangerous edge of a glare that could break someone in half.

You finally moved, stepping onto the dance floor, the burn in your chest pushing you forward. Your hand found Lara’s arm, firm but not rough.

“It’s time to go. It’s late,” you said, voice low, your chest puffed like you were bracing for a fight. You didn’t care if you looked like some obsessed jerk—right now, you couldn’t stand another second of it. The guy beside her smirked, pulling Lara a little closer just to test you. Your glare locked on him, sharp enough to cut, but he only chuckled, his grin cocky and cruel.

“Tell your assistant or whatever,” he said, eyes flicking to you with a mocking tease, “that we’re still having fun.”

Lara laughed softly at his words, not pulling away, not defending you—just laughing, like it was nothing.

And with that, everything snapped. Your vision blurred, the alcohol and the rage finally spilling over. Before you could think, your fist connected with his face. The crack echoed, and he stumbled back, crashing to the floor.

For a moment, silence hung heavy around you. Your chest heaved, your knuckles stung, and all you could do was glare at Lara. Furious, and drunk on jealousy—you gave her one last look before turning away.

You walked straight to the bar, every step heavy, every thought burning. Slamming your hand on the counter, you didn’t ask—you demanded.

“Whiskey. The whole bottle.”

The bartender hesitated, but your eyes left no room for questions.

Within seconds, someone slid up beside you. At first, you thought it was Lara. The same dark hair, the same curve of a smile—so close it made your chest ache. Or maybe you were just too drunk to tell the difference anymore.

She leaned against the counter, eyes fixed on you, studying you like she already knew your story. Your vision swayed, edges blurring, but you held her gaze anyway. She leaned closer, her perfume mixing with the sharp sting of whiskey in your throat. The way her eyes lingered on you felt deliberate, slow, dangerous. Almost like she could taste the jealousy bleeding off you.

“You look like you need something stronger than that bottle,” she murmured, her voice low, sultry, teasing. Her fingers brushed against your arm, light, calculated, and for a second it sent a shiver through you.

And maybe you didn’t stop her. Maybe you let her lean in closer, because in that moment, with your pride shattered and your jealousy burning, anyone who wasn’t Lara felt easier to want.

It dragged on for over a minute, the woman pressing closer, whispering things against your ear, her hand ghosting over your arm. Her eyes locked with yours, heavy and unrelenting, like she was begging you to take her away. And maybe, in your drunken haze, you almost believed it.

Then Lara appeared. Fire blazed in her eyes as she shoved the woman back.

“Back off!” she snapped, her voice cutting through the fog clouding your head. You froze, stunned, your thoughts tangled and slow. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, the haze lifting only when you heard Lara’s voice again.

“Don’t you know she has a girlfriend?” Lara’s words came sharp, protective.

The other woman scoffed, glaring before rolling her eyes.

“Oh, you?” she sneered, venom dripping from her tone. “Weren’t you just slutting it up with that guy earlier?”

Lara’s gaze sharpened into a blade, her whole body tensing, ready to strike. Her hands curled into fists, jaw tight, and for a moment you swore she’d tear the woman apart right there.

Before she could lunge, you grabbed her, pulling her aside. She cursed under her breath, fighting against your hold, still spitting venom at the girl, her anger as raw as your jealousy had been minutes ago.

You didn’t give her a chance to keep fighting. Your hand gripped her wrist as you dragged her away from the chaos, past the crowd, until you found a private lobby. The door slammed shut behind you, the lock clicking into place with finality. Lara stood there, arms crossed over her chest, her glare sharp enough to cut through the haze still clouding your head. She didn’t say a word, just stared you down like she was daring you to explain yourself.

You pressed a hand to your temple, trying to steady yourself, your chest still heaving. The alcohol was thick in your veins, but not thick enough to drown the question clawing its way out of you.

Before you could even open your mouth, Lara closed the distance. She shoved you back against the wall, her fingers digging into your shoulders like she was anchoring herself, or maybe staking a claim. Her lips brushed against the corner of yours, not quite a kiss, but enough to set every nerve on fire.

You froze for only a second before your hands found her waist. You gripped hard, pulling her closer, almost out of instinct—like your body refused to let her go, even if your head was still spinning. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was raw, fueled by jealousy and anger, the kind of heat that came from almost losing something you couldn’t live without.

Her lips moved against yours, frantic, desperate, breaking away only for a breath before crashing back down again. Between kisses, her words spilled out in a whisper, hot against your mouth.

“Baby—” her lips dragged across your jaw, her breath ragged, “I swear… I was just tempting you earlier… I just wanted to see your other side.” Another kiss, harder this time, as if she needed you to believe her through touch.

Her hands clawed at your shoulders, pulling you closer, forcing you to feel the fire in her chest. “You barely show it… please…” she begged against your skin, her lips brushing down the side of your neck before finding yours again.

“It was just a joke,” she murmured into your mouth, the words tangled with another kiss, soft and wet. “That guy—he isn’t even straight. He’s just a friend in disguise…”

Each explanation came broken, tangled with heat, her lips working overtime to erase your anger, to replace jealousy with something sharper, hungrier.

Her words tangled with kisses, hot and breathless, but somewhere deep inside you, doubt still lingered. Every whisper felt like fire, but your chest still burned with the sting of jealousy.

And yet—you couldn’t let her go. Not now. Not when she was this close, not when her lips begged you to believe her.

So you took control.

Your hands slid to her waist, gripping harder this time as you spun her around, pressing her back against the wall. The thud echoed in the quiet lobby, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes widened, then softened, her lips parting as if daring you to continue.

Now it was Lara cornered, her back against the wall, your body holding her in place. She had no room to run, no room to play games. For once, she wasn’t the one leading—you were.

And you didn’t plan on letting her forget it.

“Please, baby…” Lara’s voice cracked into a whisper, her eyes searching yours, desperate. She tugged at your shirt, her nails biting through the fabric. “Don’t be mad at me, I can’t stand it when you look at me like that.”

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against hers but never giving in, making her chase you. “Oh? You didn’t mind when you were laughing with him, though, did you?” you teased, your voice low, sharp, laced with jealousy.

She shook her head quickly, trying to kiss you again, but you pulled back just enough to keep her wanting.

“It wasn’t real,” she breathed against your mouth, her tone pleading, almost breaking. “Baby, I swear, it was just to get under your skin. I only wanted you—only you.” Your smirk deepened as your thumb brushed along her jaw, holding her chin up. “Mm, and now look at you,” you murmured, your lips grazing hers again, barely touching. “Begging.”

Your grip on her waist tightened as you pressed her harder against the wall. She gasped, but before she could speak, your knee slid in between her thighs, forcing them apart just enough to make her breath hitch.

“You know…” you murmured, your lips brushing the corner of her mouth, “it’s kinda nice seeing you all fired up for once.”

Her fingers dug into your shoulders, nails scraping lightly through the fabric of your shirt as her eyes darted to yours, wide and pleading.

A slow smirk curved your lips as you pushed your knee up just a little higher, teasing her, never giving her what she wanted fully.

“Karma kinda hit you today, hmm?” you whispered, your tone sharp, deliberate. “You didn’t like watching me with someone else, did you? Not so fun when it’s turned around.”

Her breath came quicker, her lips trembling as she tried to catch them against yours again. But you leaned back just enough to keep her hungry, your knee still pressed close, making her squirm.

“Please…” she whispered, voice breaking. “Don’t do this to me.”

And still, the fire in your chest refused to cool.

Your knee pressed firmer between her thighs, just enough to make her breath catch in her throat. You tilted your head, eyes narrowing, savoring the way she squirmed under you.

Lara whimpered softly, her hands clawing at your shoulders, pulling, begging. “Please, baby… don’t tease me like this. I can’t take it.”

You smirked, sliding your knee up higher, making her body tense. “Oh, but you can take it,” you teased, voice low, cruel in its calm. “You loved watching me suffer, didn’t you? Watching me jealous. Now it’s your turn.”

Her lips found yours again, messy and desperate, trying to silence your words. And that’s when you snapped. The jealousy, the anger, the heat—it all collided at once. You gripped her waist tight and crushed your mouth to hers, no space left between you. It wasn’t soft—it was raw, a claiming kiss, fueled by everything you’d bottled up tonight. She gasped into your mouth, melting against you as your knee pressed harder, making her tremble.

Your lips dragged over her neck, hot and desperate, kissing and biting as though you could sink every ounce of jealousy into her skin. Your knee pressed higher between her thighs, and she moved against it, her needy sounds spilling into the space between you. The taste of her skin, the feel of her trembling—it made your chest burn.

In between the kisses, the bites, and your low groans against her throat, the words slipped out rough and broken;

“God— you’re so damn beautiful…” bite “…so fucking sexy…” kiss “…and everyone knows it.”

Another groan tore from your chest as you pressed her harder to the wall, your lips dragging up to her jaw.

“They all want you,” kiss “…every single one of them,” bite “…and that’s why—” your teeth sank into her skin as a growl left you, “—that’s why I get so fucking jealous.”

Her moan answered yours, her body trembling under your grip, and still you couldn’t stop—couldn’t let her forget for even a second that she was yours.

Just when her moans were about to break into something louder, the door handle suddenly rattled—someone trying to get in. You froze, your lips still on her skin, then slowly pulled back, leaving Lara flushed and desperate, her body burning for more.

She whined softly, frustrated, her chest rising and falling like she was ready to beg. But instead of giving her what she wanted, you stepped away, letting her stew in that hunger.

The door cracked open just enough for you to slip through, blocking the view so no one could see her. A staff member stood there, looking for you. You exchanged a few words, then smirked over your shoulder.

Your eyes found Lara—hair messy, lips swollen, desire written all over her—and with a sly grin, you walked out, leaving her behind in the private room… confused, breathless, and aching for you.

[jalinaalkenza]

Can you write another part of the overprotective katseye with 7th member reader

K͜͡E͜͡E͜͡P͜͡I͜͡N͜͡G͜͡ U͜͡P͜͡ W͜͡I͜͡T͜͡H͜͡ T͜͡H͜͡E͜͡ C͜͡H͜͡A͜͡O͜͡S͜͡

kᥲ𝗍sᥱᥡᥱ ᥊ 7𝗍һmᥱmᑲᥱr 𝖿ᥱm!rᥱᥲძᥱr

ᴏᴠᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ: ᴀ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇғᴜʟ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ 7ᴛʜ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴋᴀᴛsᴇʏᴇ & ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋɴᴀᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴏᴜᴘ— ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!!

It’s five in the morning, and you’re already awake thanks to Sophia screaming like the house is burning down. For a second, you honestly think there might be a fire, but no—it’s just her and Daniela throwing verbal grenades at each other again. Yoonchae, somehow, is still asleep beside you, headphones in, completely knocked out like she’s living in a different dimension.

You try to ignore it, but the shouting only gets louder. Sophia’s yelling about her stuff, Daniela’s yelling about her perfume, and together they sound like two broken speakers stuck on full blast. Eventually, you snap.

You drag yourself out of bed, stomp into the hallway, and find the two of them circling the house, mocking each other’s voices like kids on a playground.

“Guys, can you please stay quiet? I’m still trying to get some sleep!” you say, voice sharp and tired.

Daniela rolls her eyes at you, which is rich considering she’s the one screaming at five in the morning. Sophia doesn’t even bother looking your way—she just storms off mid-argument, Daniela hot on her heels, both of them still throwing insults like confetti.

You just stand there, arms crossed, hair all over the place, wondering how these two can wake up with this much energy while you can barely keep your eyes open. Peace in this house? Yeah, not happening.

With a long sigh, you drag yourself back to bed, side-eyeing Yoonchae who’s still out cold like the chaos never even happened. You almost envy her. Almost.

A few minutes pass, and finally, the shouting fades into the distance. You curl back under the covers, eyes heavy, body ready to slip into sweet, sweet unconsciousness. Sleep is right there—you can almost taste it.

And then, of course, your alarm starts blaring like it’s mocking you. Beside you, Yoonchae sits up instantly, stiff and mechanical, like some kind of robot programmed to wake at the sound of a bell. She slips out of bed, calm as ever, while you just lie there staring at the ceiling, mentally cursing Sophia, Daniela, your alarm clock, and honestly, the entire universe for conspiring against you.

Sleep? Apparently, those don’t exist in your life anymore.

You drag the blanket over your face, praying for just five more minutes of sleep, but no—the world clearly hates you. Yoonchae’s already moving around the room, pulling her hoodie over her head and slipping on socks with the precision of a soldier. Meanwhile, from somewhere down the hall, Sophia and Daniela are still at it.

Sophia’s voice cuts through the house: “You literally touched my things without asking!”

Daniela fires back immediately: “It’s just perfume, calm down before I spray it in your mouth!” You groan so loud you surprise even yourself. Yoonchae doesn’t react—headphones are already back on, volume blasting. She’s a master at ignoring chaos; you’re convinced she could sleep through the end of the world if she wanted to.

★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰

You shuffle downstairs like a half-dead zombie, already bracing yourself for whatever circus act the morning has prepared. The first person you see is Manon, sitting on the sofa, totally unbothered, watching Netflix with a bowl of cereal in her lap. She doesn’t even look up as you pass by—she’s too busy laughing at her show like she’s the only one in this madhouse living a normal life.

Through the window, you spot Megan outside freestyling her dance routine, earbuds in, completely in her own world. She’s spinning and snapping like she's still in dream academy and honestly? Good for her.

You drag yourself into the kitchen, hoping—praying—for at least a quiet bite of food. Just one. But apparently

Sophia and Daniela are both at the table, sitting across from each other like sworn enemies in a mafia movie. The silent treatment is so thick you could spread it on toast. You grab a mug and pour yourself some coffee, thinking maybe, just maybe, peace has finally arrived. Then Daniela 'accidentally' bumps her spoon against Sophia’s plate. Sophia snaps her head up, eyes narrowed.

“Really? You can’t even eat without being annoying?” Daniela smirks, leaning back. “¿Estas diciendo algo?” Sophia tilted her head, confused “Ha?” Daniela raised her eyebrow, then Sophia “Hatdog!”

★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰

By the time the clock hits 6:45, the house looks less like a home and more like a battlefield disguised as a morning routine. Everyone’s 'getting ready,' but really, it’s just another round of chaos wearing perfume.

Manon and Daniela are fighting over the bathroom like it’s sacred territory. Daniela’s pounding on the door, yelling about how she needs to fix her eyeliner & makeup, while Manon yells back that she’s not coming out until she’s not done fixing her hair. You swear if this keeps up, someone’s going to break the door down.

Meanwhile, Sophia and Yoonchae are tangled in their own mess of misunderstanding. Sophia’s talking like she's a rapper, her voice sharp, while Yoonchae is struggling to keep up, fumbling for words. You can see the frustration on her face—like she’s two seconds away from just walking out and giving up, she's probably cursing Sophia inside her head.

And then there’s Megan, casually strolling through the chaos like she’s immune. Phone in hand, she’s on a video call with Lara—who’s comfortably staying at her parents’ house, enjoying a quiet, peaceful sleep. The contrast makes you want to scream. Megan’s laughing softly, whispering into her phone about an 'escape plan,' while you sit there thinking: God, Lara’s a lucky bitch.

★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰

You let out the heaviest sigh known to mankind and finally drag yourself to get ready. Skirt, crop top, hair fixed, makeup on—you actually look like a functioning human being, maybe even more than that. By the time you’re done, the rest of the girls are gathered, each with their own unique brand of 'getting ready for rehearsal'.

Megan, true to form, is rocking sweatpants and an oversized shirt like she’s about to nap instead of rehearsing. Daniela walks out looking like she just stepped off the set of a music video—effortlessly sexy, no contest. Sophia? She’s dressed as if she’s headed to some red-carpet gala, not a rehearsal, strutting around like a VIP guest star. Manon’s embracing her inner masc, hands stuffed in her pockets, radiating casual confidence. And Yoonchae? Well… Yoonchae’s just being Yoonchae, with her casual tomboy style.

Then all eyes land on you.

Before you can even say 'What?', Sophia gasps like you’ve just committed a felony.

“Oh my GOD—no, absolutely not. Go change right now.”

And just like that, the others jump in too. Suddenly, everyone’s on overprotective mode, voices overlapping, throwing out comments like:

“That’s too much.”

“Do you even own jeans?”

“You’re not going out like that.”

Even Yoonchae—Yoonchae, who’s literally only one month older than you—crosses her arms and frowns like she’s your strict guardian.

You blink at all of them, completely dumbfounded. “Are you guys serious right now? We’re literally going to rehearsal, not church.”

Sophia throws her hands in the air, looking personally offended. “That’s exactly the point! You’re not about to show up looking like—like that. Change. Now.”

Daniela leans on the wall, smirking. “Honestly? I think she looks good.”

Sophia whirls on her. “Don’t encourage her!”

Manon’s trying to look casual, but even she’s side-eyeing you like you just broke some unspoken rule. And Megan—sweet, unbothered Megan—just shrugs. “I mean… it’s her body, her outfit. Chill.”

But of course, the final blow comes from Yoonchae. She tilts her head, crosses her arms, and with the weight of her one month of seniority says, “Yeah… I don’t think you should wear that either.”

That’s it. That’s where you lose it.

“Are you kidding me? You’re one month older than me, Yoonchae. ONE. That doesn’t make you my mother.”

The room goes quiet for half a beat, then Sophia gasps dramatically, like you just committed a crime against family honor. Daniela bursts out laughing, Megan hides her grin behind her phone, and Manon mutters something about this being better than Netflix.

You roll your eyes, grab your bag, and march to the door. “Whatever. I’m wearing it. End of story.”

Of course, the overprotective squad doesn’t stop following you out, still grumbling and fussing like you’ve single-handedly ruined rehearsal before it even started.

Just as you step outside, bag slung over your shoulder and the girls still bickering around you, your phone buzzes. It’s a text from Lara.

Lara: “Nice skirt. Going to rehearsal or auditioning for Mean Girls 4?”

You stare at the screen, jaw tightening. Another buzz.

Lara: “Don’t trip over it, though. Wouldn’t want you face-planting in front of everyone again 😏”

You groan out loud, glaring at your phone like it personally insulted your ancestors. Of course Lara would pick today of all days to roast you.

Lucky bitch. Not only did she get a peaceful night’s sleep at her parents’ house, now she’s awake early just to roast you like it’s her full-time job.

★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴀɢᴀɪɴ— ʀᴇᴏ̨ᴜᴇsᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ!!

[jalinaalkenza]

🆂🅾🆁🆁🆈 ∘₊✧──────

🄽🄾🅃──────✧₊∘🆂🅾🆁🆁🆈

ᴍᴇɢᴀɴ ᴍᴇɪʏᴏᴋ sᴋɪᴇɴᴅɪᴇʟ x 7ᴛʜᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ!ғᴇᴍʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴏᴠᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ: ᴍᴇɢᴀɴ sʜᴀᴍᴇʟᴇssʟʏ sʜᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏғ ᴀ ɢɪʀʟғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ— 👀

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅʏ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴊᴏᴋᴇs, ᴜɴғɪʟᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴡᴏʀᴅs, sᴍᴜᴛ (ᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ), ғʀᴇᴀᴋʏᴍᴇɢᴀɴ, ᴄᴜʀsᴇs, ᴍᴇɢᴀɴ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇ ɢ!ᴘ, sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴠɪᴄᴛɪᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀs— ᴀɢᴀɪɴ.

Megan has always been teasing you—it’s practically her sport, and you’re her favorite victim. As your girlfriend, she knows exactly which buttons to press, and she doesn’t hesitate to press them, hard. Her jokes aren’t just rough, they’re downright shameless, slipping into dirty territory that makes you want the ground to swallow you whole. And the worst part? She does it with an audience—Lara, Daniela, Manon, Sophia, even Yoonchae.

One bold comment, one wicked grin, and suddenly you’re red as a tomato while everyone else is cracking up. Megan just leans back, smug and satisfied, like she’s won some invisible game… and honestly? Yes.

Which, honestly, annoys you. It’s bad enough that all the Kats know you melt under Megan, but when she gets bold, she makes sure everyone knows exactly how far under you are. Most of the time, she’s timid, a little scared of you even—but give her a spark of confidence, and she turns into the cockiest person alive. She’ll lean back with that smug grin and throw out lines like, “You should’ve heard her last night—screaming my name so loud the neighbors probably know by now,” or “She gets so desperate when I go down on her, it’s the cutest thing.” And the worst one? “Face it, nobody fucks her better than I do.” By the time she’s done, you’re sitting there mortified, cheeks blazing, while the girls are gasping, laughing, and egging her on. Megan just smirks at you, proud, like she’s claiming a trophy—you.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈

Once you and Megan finally got some alone time, you decided to punish her the only way you could—you ignored her completely. No eye contact, no words, just pure sulky silence. She, of course, acted like you’d just declared war. Immediately, she latched onto your arm, whining, tugging at your sleeve like a toddler in a toy store. “Babe, come on, it was just a joke!” she pleaded, clinging tighter as you shrugged her off. You kept walking, arms crossed, doing your best impression of someone who’s deeply betrayed.

“But it’s all true!” she blurted, and that only made you pick up your pace, stomping down the hallway like you were in a soap opera. Behind you, Megan followed dramatically, her footsteps quick, her voice dragging out an exaggerated, “I’m soooorryyy…”

You glanced back only once, and there she was—full performance mode—pouty lips, big puppy eyes, practically dragging her feet for effect. She looked like a kicked puppy who’d been grounded, which would’ve been funny if you weren’t still mortified.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈

You didn’t just ignore Megan in the hallway—you kept it going all the way into rehearsal. And of course, the Kats noticed. They always notice.

It didn’t take long before they pounced. Manon and Lara were the first to start, grinning ear to ear as they whispered loud enough for Megan to hear. “Wow, Megan’s such an underdog to y/n, huh?” Lara teased, and Daniela laughed so hard she nearly dropped her water bottle. Sophia, naturally, took it to another level. Every time Megan messed up a simple step—just one tiny slip—Sophia would clap dramatically and sing-song, “Aww, someone’s distracted ’cause their girlfriend’s mad at them!” Megan’s face would turn red as she shot her a glare, but that only made everyone laugh harder.

Manon was practically on the floor, wheezing at every little thing, while Yoonchae… well, Yoonchae didn’t even bother. She stuck by your side, focused on the choreography like nothing else mattered. She didn’t care about Megan’s sulking war—she was too busy actually doing her job.

Meanwhile, Megan kept sneaking looks at you, desperate for a reaction, while the whole room seemed to gang up on her. And you? You just kept cool, acting like she wasn’t even there—which somehow made it even funnier for everyone.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈

Finally, rehearsal wrapped up. It was late, everyone was sweaty, drained, and ready to collapse—but somehow not too exhausted to keep teasing Megan. Every little glance, every whisper, someone just had to remind her how whipped she looked trailing after you.

At the studio, you ended up chatting with Yoonchae, who seemed to be the only one not invested in Megan’s humiliation… until she suddenly smirked and pointed behind you. “Uh, she’s following you again,” Yoonchae said flatly, like she was pointing out a stray dog.

You turned, already rolling your eyes, only to see Megan standing there like the world’s guiltiest puppy—hands fiddling, lips pouting, practically wagging an invisible tail. With an exasperated sigh, you finally faced her, irritation written all over your face.

“What do you want?” you asked, voice sharp.

Megan’s expression softened instantly, and she stepped closer with those big, pleading eyes. “Baby, I’m sorry, please?” she said, her tone sweet and desperate. “I know it was wrong, but I just… I can’t help it. You’re so good, I just had to brag a little.”

Her voice wavered between guilt and mischief, like she was both apologizing and low-key reminding you of exactly what she’d bragged about.

You turned back to Yoonchae for backup, only to realize she was gone—slipped away without a trace, leaving you stranded with Megan. Great. When you looked back, Megan was still there, staring at you with those pitiful puppy eyes that made her look like she was about to whine if you ignored her again. You sighed, defeated.

“Okay… explain yourself,” you told her flatly.

That was all the permission she needed. Suddenly, Megan lit up, words tumbling out of her mouth faster than you could stop them.

“Baby, I swear, I didn’t mean to embarrass you…” she started.

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes. Uh-huh, here it comes.

“…I just can’t help it. You’re so good at riding me, I lose my mind every single time.”

Your jaw dropped instantly, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Megan!” you hissed, glancing around as if the walls themselves were listening.

But she kept going, relentless. “The way your hips move—fuck, it’s like you were made for it.”

You smacked your palm over your face, groaning. “Oh my god, shut up—”

“And your moans? You scream so loud I’m shocked the whole building hasn’t complained by now.”

At that, you physically turned your back to her, face burning. “You’re unbelievable.”

But Megan wasn’t done. She leaned in, voice lower, smug. “You make me come so hard I can’t even stand afterwards, and you don’t stop—you keep going until I’m crying for mercy.”

Your head snapped back toward her, eyes wide. “MEGAN! What the actual—” you whisper-yelled, utterly scandalized, but your body betrayed you with goosebumps just at the memory.

She smirked wider, seeing the crack in your armor. “How the hell am I supposed to pretend you’re not the best I’ve ever had?” You threw your hands up. “Because you don’t need to announce it like a fucking press release!”

And then, the final blow. “I just needed them all to know that I’m not some bottom pushover in bed—that I’ve got the hottest, dirtiest, most insane girlfriend who ruins me every single night. That’s not embarrassing for me, baby, that’s a fucking trophy.”

By the time she finished, you were staring at her with your mouth open, speechless, your face flaming red from equal parts rage and humiliation. You tried to say something, anything, but all that came out was a strangled, “I hate you.”

Megan only grinned, stepping closer to peck your lips. “No, you don’t.”

And the worst part? She was right.

Neither of you noticed Sophia walk in—you were too busy arguing, your voice low and furious, Megan’s smug and unrepentant. It wasn’t until the studio door gave a long, traitorous creeeak that you both froze.

Slowly, you turned your heads… and there she was. Sophia. Standing in the doorway, water bottle in hand, eyes wide like she’d just walked in on a car crash.

She blinked once. Twice. Then deadpanned, “…First, I catch Lara and Manon scissoring at six in the morning, and now this?” Your entire soul left your body on the spot. You wanted the earth to split open and swallow you whole. Meanwhile, Megan just leaned back and smirked, proud, like this was proof she’d won some kind of championship. “Well… at least someone finally heard me brag,” she said, lips curling with satisfaction.

Sophia just stood there, dumbfounded, whispering something under her breath about “why do I even bother being the leader…”

And you? You couldn’t even meet her eyes. Guilt ate at you as you muttered, “…I’m so sorry, Sophia.”

Megan, on the other hand, was still grinning like she’d just set the world record for shamelessness.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈

After all that chaos—the sulking, the begging, the outrageous confessions, and Sophia catching you mid-argument—you finally caved. Not because Megan’s apology was sweet (it wasn’t), and not because she deserved forgiveness (she didn’t), but simply to shut her up before she humiliated you any further.

With a heavy sigh, you muttered, “Fine. You’re forgiven.”

Megan’s entire face lit up like she’d just won the lottery. She clung to you instantly, peppering you with kisses and cooing, “Thank you, baby, I swear this is the last time!”

But you knew better. Oh, you knew. This wouldn’t be the last time. Not even close.

Because Megan? She thrives on making you squirm. And no matter how much you threaten or sulk, she’s never going to stop bragging about how lucky she is—or how good you are at ruining her.

And deep down, though you’d never admit it out loud… that’s exactly why you keep her around.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈

ᥲ/ᥒ: і'm ᥣᥱᥲrᥒіᥒg🤓☝

𝗍ᥲgᥣіs𝗍: і ძ᥆ᥒ'𝗍 kᥒ᥆ᥕ һ᥆ᥕ 𝗍᥆ ძ᥆ 𝗍һᥲ𝗍 sһі𝗍— rᥱᥲძ і𝗍:)

[jalinaalkenza]

─────────ೋღ 𝐵𝑂𝑈𝑁𝐷𝐴𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑆

𝐶𝑅𝑂𝑆𝑆𝐸𝐷 ღೋ─────────

ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟᴀ ᴀᴠᴀɴᴢɪɴɪ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴏᴠᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ: ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ sᴛᴏᴘᴘɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇᴛ ʜᴇʀ— ғᴀᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴsᴇǫᴜᴇɴᴄᴇs.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1,083 - 1,09

Have you ever done something completely out of your comfort zone, just because you loved someone so much? Because from the very beginning, that was you—hopelessly, undeniably in love with her. Every laugh, every shared secret, every late-night call had quietly tied your heart to hers. It was never a secret—you were human, and your heart had always belonged to Daniela. And like everyone else in this cruel, goddamn world, you made mistakes. You fell in love… even knowing it could destroy everything.

This world is full of people—so many to love, so many to admire. But why her? Why Daniela? Why did your heart betray you like this, picking someone who could give you hope one moment and leave you hollow the next?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀

Back then, everything seemed safe. You were her best friend, her constant, her shoulder to lean on. She needed a ride? You were there. She needed someone to talk to? You dropped everything. She needed comfort, someone to just be there? You didn’t hesitate. You were a good friend. Maybe… too good.

You had loved her quietly from the start, keeping your feelings buried beneath teasing jokes and protective gestures. She was family to you, someone you couldn’t imagine losing. Your bond had always felt unshakable… until that night.

You can’t unsee it: her lips on yours, trembling, desperate, refusing to let go as she cried into your arms. Her body pressed against you, hands on your shoulders, legs straddling your lap as she kissed you again and again. Needing you. Wanting you. That wasn’t supposed to happen. And yet… you kissed her back.

She was tipsy—not drunk, just reckless. She’d just broken up with her boyfriend and called you, crying, begging for someone to make her feel alive again, to breathe again. You shouldn’t have gone. You were exhausted, hesitant… but she needed you.

At first, it was harmless. Laughter. Girl talk. Rants about her ex. You rolled your eyes, teased her, let her vent. She was like a sister… or so you told yourself.

Then her gaze shifted.

“That dress fits you… where’d you get it?” Her eyes lingered over you, a glance that made your heart stop for just a moment. “We bought it together,” you said softly, “when we were with Manon—”

“Manon?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes, her voice low and teasing. “Could you maybe not mention her name for once? It’s… irritating.” She scooted closer, pouting slightly, resting her head just a breath away from your shoulder. Her fingers brushed yours in a way that lingered, just long enough to make your chest tighten.

You tried to mock her with a roll of your eyes. “What’s your beef with her now?”

She smirked, and something in that smirk twisted inside you. “Well, I guess you’ve got a new best friend now—Manon this, Manon that.”

Her words, her glance, the way she leaned in—it felt like hope. Maybe she felt it too. Maybe she had wanted this all along. Before you could catch yourself, she had you pinned, straddling your lap. Her warm, wine-scented breath brushed your lips. You tried to push her away. “Dani, I swear—” But she didn’t let go.

“I’ve always wanted to explore… I’ll take this as a sign.”

And then, she kissed you.

For a heartbeat, you tried to resist, the rational part of your brain screaming at you to stop. But desire—and something else, something fragile and hopeful—overpowered it. Your lips met hers again and again, her hands tangled in your hair, your own hands pressed to her hips. Heat, longing, hope, and guilt collided in every stolen second.

In that instant, everything changed. The friendship, the trust, the years of safety you had built—they all fractured. You told yourself it was okay—she had initiated it. The spark was undeniable… wasn’t it? Right?

But deep down, your chest ached with the knowledge that this was more than a kiss. It was a line crossed, a boundary broken, a promise you hadn’t realized you’d made to yourself. And even if it felt electric, even if it felt like she might want you too, the truth was already settling in your bones: nothing would ever be the same again.

The day after that night, the world felt heavier. Everything was the same, yet nothing was. You kept replaying it in your mind—the way her lips had felt against yours, the warmth of her body pressed to yours, the hope that maybe, just maybe, she had felt something too.

But when you saw her the next day, she was different. The spark was gone. The teasing glances, the lingering touches—they’d vanished. She laughed at your jokes, but it felt hollow, distant, like she was somewhere else entirely. You tried to catch her eye, to recreate a fragment of what happened, but she looked through you, not at you. You thought maybe it was nerves, maybe a hangover, maybe a game she was playing. But the truth hit you slowly, crushingly: she wasn’t into you. She never had been. She was straight. That night hadn’t meant what you thought it meant. Every word she said, every laugh that once made your chest swell with hope, now felt like a reminder of your mistake. You’d crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. You’d given yourself to a moment of possibility—and it had only left you exposed.

You wanted to talk to her, to ask what it all meant, but the words caught in your throat. What could you even say? How could you explain that you’d loved her from the beginning, that your heart had been hers long before her lips had touched yours? How could you admit that you’d hoped she felt the same way, only to be met with a truth you couldn’t unhear? So you stayed quiet. You smiled when she looked at you, tried to act normal, but inside you were breaking. Each small gesture of hers—light, careless, utterly oblivious to the storm in your chest—felt like a knife twisting deeper.

And in that silence, you realized the cruelest part: love had always been yours alone. You had crossed a boundary, felt the heat of possibility, and in the aftermath… you were left with nothing but the echo of what could never be.

She was still your friend. She always would be. But now, every laugh, every touch, every shared glance carried the bitter weight of heartbreak. And you, hopelessly, painfully, had no one to blame but yourself.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴡʜʏ ɪs ᴛʜɪs sᴏ sʜɪᴛᴛʏ🥀? ɪ ᴀʙsᴏʟᴜᴛᴇʟʏ ᴅɪsʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴀɴ ɪ sᴀʏ🤷‍♀️...

[jalinaalkenza]

𝗞𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 ME 𝙎𝙊𝙁𝙏𝙇𝙔 WITH—.•♫•♬• ???

──────────────────

ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ: ʟᴀʀᴀ ʀᴀᴊᴀɢᴏᴘᴀʟᴀɴ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴛᴏxɪᴄ!ʏᴜʀɪ, ᴅᴀʀᴋ!ʏᴜʀɪ ᴛᴡ: ᴏғғᴇɴsɪᴠᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅs (ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛʟʏ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ), ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴛᴏʀᴛᴜʀᴇ, ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɢᴀsʟɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ, ʟᴀʀᴀ ʀᴀᴊ ɪs ʙᴀsɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ sᴀɴɢᴡᴏᴏ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, sᴛᴏᴄᴋʜᴏʟᴍ sʏɴᴅʀᴏᴍᴇ, sʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ɢᴏʀᴇ? ʜᴜʀᴛ ɴᴏ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ 👀?

"ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴᴄᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴡɪᴄᴇ."

ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: [ ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ sᴏғᴛʟʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪs sᴏɴɢ~ - ʀᴏʙᴇʀᴛᴀ ғʟᴀᴄᴋ ]

──────────────────

You loved her. Not like the world did. To them, she was a star, a goddess, something to be admired from a distance. But you… you couldn’t stay away. Her beauty, her voice, her very existence—it wrapped around you like chains. You didn’t fight it. You never wanted to.

The world screamed her name, but they were blind. They only saw the stage, the smile, the performance. You saw more. You saw her. Lara Rajagopalan. Lara Raj. And once you did, there was no going back.

She was untouchable, too bright for anyone to hold, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t need the light. You only needed her. Even if it meant hiding in the shadows. Even if it meant keeping her where no one else could find her.

But you were wrong. You thought you could own her. The truth was worse—she owned you. Every thought, every breath, every part of you bent to her. You weren’t her lover. You weren’t her equal.

You were her prisoner. Her shadow. Her slave. And the more you realized it, the darker it became. Because if she ever left you, if she ever slipped from your grasp, you knew what you would do. You’d rather destroy her, destroy yourself, destroy everything—than live in a world where she wasn’t yours.

The door creaks open. The sound slices through the silence like a whisper, yet it feels like a lullaby. Tears blur your vision as the cold runs through your veins, a sweet ache you’ve come to crave. You’re shivering, not from fear, but from the anticipation of her shadow filling the room.

You lift your eyes. It’s her. After a long day. She came back, still with you. Or maybe it’s you — still there, still waiting, still chained in the dark. like a touch you’ve learned to mistake for comfort.

You could escape. You know that. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the thought flickers like a dying flame. But you smother it. Because this isn’t just pain; it’s devotion. This isn’t just a cell; it’s a sanctuary. You are worthy of her.

So you stay. And you'll breath as long as you can, just to be with her for a little while longer. Each breath hurts, but it’s hers. As long as you’re with her, everything feels alright, to feel her presence, to dream of her even with your eyes open, it was enough, enough for someone like you.

Lara’s eyes fall on you. Eyes that once lit up a room, a stage, a camera now sink into shadow, it darkened, cold and sharp. She looks at you with nothing but disgust—disgust at what you’ve become, at how far you’ve fallen. Disgust that people like you even exist. And yet, she enjoys it; the power.

You look at her. For the first time in so long, your eyes meet. Hers are filled with disgust, laced with something darker—lust hidden behind contempt. Yours, however, are pure. Full of love. Full of comfort,

as if the chains around you doesn't even exist.

Your lips tremble, your voice breaking into the silence.

“You… you came back…”

The words slip out, shaky yet hopeful, glowing with admiration, obsession.

Lara’s eyes rest on you, steady and unshaken. She doesn’t need to shout. Her words alone are enough to crush you, or yet, to make you fold.

“No. I didn’t come back for you. I just wanted to see what you’ve turned into. And now I see it… a pitiful thing, chained and smiling, like a dog that doesn’t know it’s already lost.” Lara smirks at her own words, proud of the knife she’s just twisted. Her eyes never leave yours.

You break, your voice cracking as it leaves your throat.

“If you can’t love me… then just let me go!”

She chuckles, soft at first, then lets out a low laugh that chills you more than a scream ever could.

“Let you go? So what? So you can ruin me? As if you could actually live without me.” She leans closer, her voice still calm, still cutting.

“You’re pathetic, as pathetic as anyone else Y/N. Don’t flatter yourself. I know you can escape. You just don’t want to.”

You sit in silence, wrists trembling as the chains fall away. For a moment, you almost believe you’re free. But the way she looks at you makes your chest tighten. Her eyes are cold, sharp, pressing down on you harder than the metal ever did. Her smirk lingers, cruel and patient.

“You want me to let you go?” Her voice is soft, steady, terrifying. She tilts her head, never breaking eye contact. “Then go.”

The word hangs in the air like a curse. Your body won’t move. The room feels smaller, the darkness heavier. Freedom is right there… yet you’re still trapped.

You sit frozen for what feels like forever, your mind empty, your chest tight. A minute, an hour—you can’t tell anymore. Finally, you force yourself to move.

Your legs tremble as you push yourself up. They feel weak, useless, as if they’ve forgotten how to stand. You’ve been kneeling here for so long—months, maybe years—you don’t even know anymore.

The ground feels strange beneath your feet, almost foreign, like it doesn’t belong to you. Each step is unsteady, like you’re walking on air, or in someone else’s body. You don’t understand. You don’t remember.

And behind you, she waits. Silent. Watching. Her presence presses against your back heavier than the chains ever did.

Her voice drips into the silence, smooth and merciless.

“You want me to let go of you… fine.”

You barely have time to breathe before the air shifts. A sudden shadow looms, and then it hits— A bat, heavy and unforgiving, crushing against the side of your skull. The sound is sickening, a dull crack that vibrates through your bones. For a heartbeat, you swear you hear your head split open, like glass breaking under too much pressure. Heat floods down your face, warm and wet, while a cold numbness spreads inside your skull.

Your knees buckle. The ground rises to meet you, but you can’t even brace yourself. The world tilts, blurs, spins out of focus. The last thing you see is her figure standing over you, calm, almost bored, her eyes still burning with that cruel light. Then everything disappears. Darkness swallows you whole.

Unconscious. Silent. Gone.

You saw the light. You saw the darkness. For a moment, you thought you had finally escaped the curse, Lara.

At first, you were like everybody else. You idolized her. You loved her. You wanted to be close. You wanted to be with her. So you followed her.

But you were reckless. You had no life of your own—You made her your world. You fell into her charm on screen, and she enlightened your delusions. She became your comfort, your universe. The perfect figure. The dream.

But it wasn’t enough. Watching her wasn’t enough. You dug deeper. You went too far. While searching for heaven, you crossed a line, in which leads you to hell. A mistake. She was like Lucifer—an angel, beautiful, impossible to resist. She took you in, it was a opportunity. Once a fan. Now a prisoner.

A sting. At first, it was nothing, almost gentle. But when your eyes opened again, it crashed over you. The pain. The weight. You couldn’t move. Your body wouldn’t answer. Paralyzed. Helpless.

And there she was. Still watching.

Some parts of you are… missing. You can’t tell where they went, only that you’re not whole anymore. Something is dripping — red, warm at times, dark at most — sliding down your skin. Your head spins, too light and too heavy all at once. Your skull feels cracked open, like it’s holding more than it can bear. Tears blur your vision, hot and useless, sliding down to mix with the blood on your face. You try to scream, but your throat won’t obey. Only a dry gasp escapes. Your mouth tastes of iron. You feel something sharp digging into you — a cut, a tear — but your nerves can’t keep up. The pain comes in flashes, too much to process, then nothing at all, like your body is giving up on telling you what’s left. Your vision fractures. Shapes twist into shadows, the room bending around you. You see glimpses — her outline, her hands.

You hear her singing. At first it’s soft, like a lullaby floating through the dark. Her voice — angelic, pure — it doesn’t belong in this place, not with the blood pooling beneath you. She hums Loving You, the tune warm, sweet, almost tender. Each note feels wrong, like silk draped over a corpse. Her humming wraps around you, pressing into the cracks of your broken body, soothing and suffocating all at once. Your vision blurs, the room sways, and for a moment you forget the pain. For a moment you almost believe she loves you, that the chains, the bruises, the blood are proof of it.

But then you hear her laughter break through the melody — low, cold, amused. She keeps singing, but now it feels mocking, a lullaby twisted into a funeral hymn. Your body twitches at the sound, but you can’t move. You can’t fight. You can only watch as she crouches just far enough away that her face is hidden in the dark. But her eyes — her eyes shine. Cold. Curious. Like she’s studying a painting she’s not finished with yet.

Then she whispers, soft and low, almost tender:

“See? Even broken, you can’t leave me.”

The words crawl into your ears, wrapping tight around your failing heart.

[jalinaalkenza]

☕︎︎ᙏ̤̫͚ᏞᏆᏙᎬ ᏆΝᏟᏆᎠᎬΝͲ───✧₊∘

∘₊✧──────∘ʟᴀʀᴀ ʀᴀᴊ Х ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ⌨︎︎𝄞

ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡɪᴇᴡ: ᴀ ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs sᴜᴘᴘᴏsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜɪʟʟ & ᴠɪʙᴇ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴍᴇssʏ ᴄʜᴀᴏs—

ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏғ: ᴄᴜʀsɪɴɢ, ᴍᴏᴀɴɪɴɢ

ᴛʏᴘᴇ: ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ, ғʀᴇᴀᴋʏ ʟᴀʀᴀ, ᴛʏᴘɪᴄᴀʟ ʟᴀʀᴀ ʟɪᴠᴇ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 861

After months of being caught up with everything in life, Lara finally went live again—partly because she and the Kats are about to drop a new track, and partly because their much-awaited tour is just around the corner.

The live started, and Lara’s face filled the camera as she waited for the eyekons to join in. She wore a bright grin, greeting everyone who entered. “Oh my god, hi everyone! It’s been a while—please join!” she said in her usual sweet tone, speaking warmly to the camera.

Finally, the live actually started. Lara placed her phone somewhere in the unfamiliar room and looked at the camera, both surprised and excited. As she opened her laptop, her eyes caught the comments. “Yes!—” She took a deep breath, silently cursing herself. She knew she was never going to live that down.

Lara let out a soft chuckle.

“So… I’m at the Hybe studio right now, and—believe it or not—they actually gave me permission to tease a few of the upcoming tracks for you guys! I know, I know, lucky, right? This live won’t be too long since I’ve got somewhere to be after this, but I just couldn’t resist hopping on to share all this with my lovely eyekons.”

Lara glanced at the comment section again while typing on her laptop. “I’m bald, Megan’s bald, Manon’s bald—everyone’s bald,” she replied with a playful grin. She squinted at the files on her screen, and that grin quickly grew into a full-on, excited smile. Then, with a teasing smirk, she served face straight into the camera.

"Okay, this is gonna be quick—I’ll play the first track. But listen, none of these are official yet, so don’t you dare leak anything. I swear.” She fixed the eyekons with a mock-serious glare, eyes narrowing at the camera… before breaking into a bright smile again.

As her fingers danced over the keyboard, Lara swayed in her seat, practically buzzing with excitement. She leaned in to peek at the comments—then suddenly blurted out, “THERE IS NO SPIDER BEHIND ME, AND THIS IS NOT PRE-RECORDED!!” She kept grinning, but threw on an overly dramatic annoyed face, inching closer and closer to the camera until her gorgeous features filled the screen. With a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, she struck a sassy smirk like she was posing for a magazine cover—because why not?

Just as she was mid-pose, the track suddenly kicked in—a slow, sultry R&B flow. Lara froze for a moment, blinking in confusion as she glanced at her laptop screen. Then, without warning, the real playback began, catching her completely off guard.

♫♪*ugh~ ugh~♬hmmm~*♪♩

♮♭*t’touch me—♬ fill me u’p!~”♩𝄞

♩♪*a-A-aH♪-ahh~~*♪𝄞

♭♮“L’ara~~ p-lease…”♭♬

Lara froze, panic flashing across her face as she scrambled to stop the track. Thankfully, the background music and playback were louder than the actual lyrics—though your soft moans and pleading still slipped through, clear enough to catch. Worse, she’d stabilized the audio, and her volume was cranked all the way up.

The eyekons were going wild—they couldn’t believe what they were hearing. That voice was far too familiar. You were the girl Lara had always called her “closest friend,” her “best friend.” They’d heard your voice a few times before, in small talk interviews during promotions for SIS, back when you were supporting Lara. Your voice was distinct, unforgettable. And they were certain it was you—especially after all those stolen shots of you and Lara sharing moments on the street or in clubs.

♪“Soo- ♩c~close— clo- close—!”♪𝄞

♮*ah~Ah-hmp!~*♮𝄞

♩“C’m on—baby~”♪

The track dragged on for a few more seconds—each one feeling like an eternity—before Lara finally managed to cut it off, her fingers trembling over the controls.

Lara stared into the camera, completely dumbfounded, before forcing out a shaky laugh. She tried to brush it off, telling everyone it was “just a prank.” But in the middle of her flustered panic, a few choice curses slipped out—enough to guarantee she’d be banned from Weverse for weeks. And, of course, there was the little matter of that audio track she’d just accidentally played.

“Um, so that was… unexpected. I—” she let out a nervous chuckle, “well, that was just a demo for something else. Though it may have sounded… different, I SWEAR it’s nothing like that—you know what I mean.” She rambled, trying to cover it up, before quickly turning back to her laptop. This time, she tapped carefully, actually focusing on what she was about to play instead of serving face for the camera.

After a moment, the correct track finally started playing. Lara glanced at the camera, looking painfully awkward and visibly embarrassed. She could barely move, every gesture stiff and hesitant, while the comments kept flooding in—questions, theories, and people still pointing that out. She was fucked. Absolutely.

As the track played on, one after another, Lara’s other phone started buzzing like crazy. She already knew what it was—most likely the group chat, Sophia… or even you.

ＨＥＲ ＰＨＯＮＥ ＳＣＲＥＥＮ:

once again, fucked.

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ＴＨＥ ＫＡＴ'Ｓ ＧＲＯＵＰ ＣＨＡＴ:

¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤°

ᴀ/ɴ: ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ ɪғ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴀs ᴀ ʀᴇᴀʟ ʟɪᴠᴇ ɪɴᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ʏ'ᴀʟʟ😭!! (ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ʟᴀʀᴀ ɴᴏᴡ, ɪ sᴡᴇᴀʀ ɪ'ʟʟ sᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇɢᴀɴ, ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟᴀ, ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ sᴏᴏɴ, ɪ'ᴍ ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴏᴏ ᴏʙsᴇssᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʟᴀʀᴀ ʀᴀᴊ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡᴡᴡᴡ) xoxoxo🤗💗!!!

[jalinaalkenza]

ɢᴏɴ' ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ғɪᴄs, ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ... ʟᴜᴠsʏᴜ!!

[jalinaalkenza]

ᴡᴀssᴜᴘ, ʏ'ᴀʟʟ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ? ɪ'ᴍ ʙᴀᴄᴋᴋ ʙɪᴛᴄʜᴇs!!

[jalinaalkenza]

F͓̽R͓̽I͓̽E͓̽N͓̽D͓̽S͓̽ ᴍᴇɢᴀɴ sᴋɪᴇɴᴅɪᴇʟ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡɪᴇᴡ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ɢɪᴠɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴏᴘᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ sʜᴇ's ʟᴏsɪɴɢ ɪᴛ— sʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ᴅᴇsᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴇʟʏ.

“WAIT!” Megan’s voice rang out, sharp and desperate, as she sprinted down the hallway after you. She had abandoned her members mid-rehearsal the moment she caught sight of you walking past, head bowed, refusing to look her way. Her footsteps echoed against the walls, chasing you like her words did. “Y/N, please!” she called again, her voice cracking this time, raw with urgency. Each syllable carried the weight of everything unsaid, everything she was terrified of losing. All she wanted was a chance—to reach you, for you to explain, to hold onto the fragile thread before it snapped completely.

Finally, Megan caught up to you, breathless, her chest rising and falling as her hand clutched your wrist. Her grip was tight, trembling, like she was afraid that if she let go, you’d vanish from her life completely. She pulled at you gently, begging for your eyes, begging for the truth.

But you couldn’t. You kept your gaze down, your chest heavy, because looking at her would only shatter the fragile wall you’d built to keep yourself from breaking. After everything, what was there left to see?

Her grip lingered on your wrist, trembling, refusing to let go. Her eyes searched your face, desperate, glassy with the tears she was holding back.

“Tell me,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she leaned closer. “Was it true? Just answer me, Y/N…”

You froze, your chest tightening, the air between you suffocating.

Her voice cracked again, softer this time, almost a plea. “Was I… was I just a friend to you?”

The question cut deeper than anything else she could’ve said. You wanted to answer, but the words lodged in your throat, because no matter what you said, someone would break. And you already felt yourself shattering.

“Megan…” you finally breathed, her name falling from your lips like it weighed a thousand pounds.

The way you said it made her flinch—soft, trembling, but not the answer she was hoping for. Her grip on your wrist tightened for a moment before slowly loosening, as if she could already hear the truth in your tone.

Her eyes glistened, desperate for more, desperate for you to say anything that could heal the crack running through her chest. But you couldn’t bring yourself to go on. The silence between you screamed louder than words ever could. And in that silence, she understood.

“Please…” her voice cracked, breaking into sobs. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t walk away like I meant nothing.” She shook her head violently, her grip tightening around your hand. “Tell me I wasn’t just a friend, Y/N… tell me I wasn’t just someone passing by in your life.”

Her desperation bled into every word, her knees nearly giving in as she clung to you, as though begging could rewrite what had already been broken

To Megan, none of this made sense. At one point, she was yours. She remembered the laughter you shared, the silly arguments that always ended with a smile, the late-night talks, the closeness, the words that felt like promises. That wasn’t just friendship. It couldn’t be.

So why were you acting like it was?

Her chest ached as she looked at you, refusing to meet her eyes. Was I just someone to help you forget your past? she thought. Was I only there to fill the empty space in your heart?

You had her wrapped around your fingers, and she hated how helpless that made her feel. Because to her, what you had was real. It had to be real.

It had to mean something. It had to.

Because if it didn’t… then she had already lost you, and maybe she never truly had you to begin with.

Her tears burned as she swallowed the lump in her throat, anger spilling over the pain. She clenched her fists, her voice louder now, no longer just a plea but a demand. “Just answer me!” Megan snapped, her words trembling with rage and hurt. “Tell me that we were not just friends!”

The words echoed, heavy, before silence pressed in again. She saw the way you froze, the way you couldn’t bring yourself to look at her, and suddenly the anger melted into something worse—regret.

Her chest tightened, tears rushing to her eyes as she shook her head. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to yell… I just—” Her hands trembled as they reached for you, but she pulled back, afraid to push you farther away. “I don’t know what else to do—"

Her tears blurred everything, her chest heaving as she tried to hold herself together. But the weight of it all was too much.

“What the hell are we, Y/N?” she burst out, her voice shaking between anger and heartbreak. “Because I can’t do this anymore—I can’t keep pretending that all of this was just friendship!”

Her fists curled at her sides, then loosened as her strength slipped away. She looked at you with red, tear-stained eyes, her voice dropping to a trembling whisper. “Please… just tell me. Don’t leave me hanging in the dark like this. I need to know what we are… or what we were.”

Her words hung in the air, fragile and desperate, like her whole world depended on your answer.

You finally lifted your eyes to her, and the look alone made Megan’s stomach drop. It wasn’t anger in your gaze. It wasn’t even guilt. It was something worse—pity. “Megan…” you started, your voice low, hesitant, as if each word cut your tongue.

“I can’t give you what you want. I’m… I’m already seeing someone.”

She froze, blinking, trying to process the words. Her lips parted,

Megan’s hands shook as she wiped at her wet cheeks, anger flashing through the heartbreak. “Then tell me, Y/N,” she demanded, her voice hoarse, desperate. “Who is it? Who are you seeing?”

And then you said it. The part that shattered her.

“It’s… a guy.”

For a moment, the hallway felt like it tilted beneath her feet. Her chest tightened until she could barely breathe, every laugh, every touch, every memory flashing in her mind like cruel reminders of something she thought was real. Her hands shook as she whispered, brokenly, “A guy? After everything… after me?”

Her tears finally fell, but she didn’t even bother to wipe them. She laughed bitterly through the sobs, the sound cutting sharp in the silence. “So what was I then? A mistake? An experiment? Something to pass the time until the right one came along?”

Her sobs cut through her words, raw and jagged. She laughed bitterly through the tears, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe the cruelty of it all. “God, I gave you everything—I let myself fall for you—and you’re telling me it meant nothing?”

But then the anger began to drain, leaving her hollow. Her body trembled as she stumbled back a step, her voice softening into something far more painful—resignation. “You could’ve just told me,” she whispered, broken. “You didn’t have to let me believe we were something more.”

Her voice cracked into sobs, but she pressed on, her words trembling with fury. “You made me believe we were something more, And now you’re telling me I was never enough because I’m not him? Because I’m not—” her voice broke completely, “—because I’m not a guy?”

Her chest heaved as she took a step closer, her tears mixing with rage. “So what the hell was I to you, Y/N? Tell me! Was I just practice? Someone to keep you warm until you found what you really wanted?” Her fists clenched, trembling as she shoved at you with all the strength her shaking body had. “Say something!”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came. And that silence—your silence—only shattered her more.

Her anger cracked, the fire inside her collapsing into sobs. She grabbed your wrist again, clutching it desperately, as though letting go meant losing the last piece of you she had left. “Why him and not me?” she begged, her voice breaking. “What does he have that I don’t? Didn’t I give you enough? Didn’t I love you enough?”

Her tears streamed freely now, her voice small and desperate. “Please… tell me it wasn’t all a lie. Tell me I wasn’t just some mistake you regret.”

Her grip on you weakened, her body trembling as she whispered the words that destroyed her. “Just… tell me I mattered to you. Even if it’s only once.”

Her grip on your wrist loosened, trembling, but her eyes clung to you with everything she had left. “Just… tell me I mattered,” she whispered again, her voice so fragile it barely reached your ears repeating her words. “Even if it’s—"

The silence that followed was suffocating. You looked at her—at the tears staining her face, the way she was breaking right in front of you—and for a moment, you almost said something. Almost.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you gently pulled your wrist free, her hand falling limp at her side. Megan’s breath hitched as her fingers curled into nothing, grasping at the air where you used to be.

Your footsteps echoed as you turned and walked away, each one tearing her apart. She wanted to scream, to run after you, to hold on—but her body wouldn’t move. She just stood there, sobbing, as the distance between you grew wider and wider.

By the time you reached the end of the hallway, Megan collapsed to her knees, the sound of her cries filling the empty space you left behind.

And that was it.

To her, it felt like the end of everything.

But even as the hallway blurred through her tears, something inside her refused to let go. Wiping her face with trembling hands, she whispered to herself, almost like a vow, “No… this can’t be it. We weren’t just nothing. I’ll make you see… I’ll make you remember.”

And though her body was broken, her heart still clung to you, fragile but stubborn, refusing to accept that this was truly the end.

For you, it was over.

But for Megan… it wasn’t. Not yet.

[jalinaalkenza]

ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴘᴀʏ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴᴇ ɪ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ🥀 (ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, sᴡᴇᴀᴛ, ᴛᴇᴀʀs ᴡᴀs ᴀʟʟ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪs ʙᴛᴡ) 💔

[jalinaalkenza]

you be doing side quest than actually writing a katseye x 7th member experience... or any decent katseye fic like honeymoon avenue instead of those unholy angst

ᴜ-ᴜʜᴍᴍᴍ....

[aparalleliwouldlaymylifeon]

ִֶָ ☾. ִֶָ — tag game!!

let pinterest describe you to its best abilities and share how accurate you believe it is!! use the first picture that pops up!!

first search “aesthetic”, then “character”, and lastly “me”

thank you for the tags @dearmisshoney @riddlesrizzler 🖤

aesthetic ⋆ character ⋆ me

npt: @obsessedwithceleste @pizzaapeteer @godricgryffinsnore @draco-malfoys-lovergirl @redeemingvillains

[godricgryffinsnore]

Thank you for the tag, Leigh 💗💗💗

npt : @wintrsoul @solsticehymns @lovedrunkmess @agreeewrites @dismalflo @yasministration @ghostedgwen @potterheadlovespotter @prettydaisygirl @outromoonyy @g1rld1ary @laufeysvalentine @sunskisser @aetherraeys @foodiegoogie @1-800-tacomuncher @milesdrift @sarahwithanh5 @neverthatsirius-jo @tea-biscuits-books @i-heart-atj + anyone who wants to join <333

[lovedrunkmess]

whoaaaa

npt : @g0lden-sky , @allisluv , @anitaxl , @daisyjonesgf, @lilyrachelcassidy , @black-omega-04, @bored-green, @moonlightnatt, @milesdrift + obviously anyone else

[allisluv-deactivated20260408]

wowowow very accurate if i do say so myself! thank you for the tag vega <3

non-pressure tags: @auroralwriting @anniiecrsta @daisyjonesgf @lilydoeswrite @slfglow @thedelicatearcher @cr3stawrites and anyone else who wants to join! <3

[daisyjonesgf]

tee hee ☘️ ty for the tags

I'm literally just a deer chat idk

tags 🌿 @wonderlandwalker @cr3stawrites @emmynemm @ssweeterthanfiction @wond3rland13 @anniiecrsta @auroralwriting @noisyalmonddreamer @nomorespahgetti @pinkanon-com @slfglow @roses-tired @sincerelystarry

[emmynemm]

ty ty for the tag!!💗

🏷️tags!!: @wond3rland13 @imsogonesposts @marioandluigigi @track11 @sincerelystarry @sapphicball

[angelloveprincess]

ty for the tags !!

tags !!: @matthewsmania @cattypurrrnell @travssluttygreenshirt @track11 @anniiecrsta @allisluv @cr3stawrites @imsogonesposts @inocentuure @noisyalmonddreamer @pinkanon-com @roses-tired @antlerqueensab @slfglow + whoever wants to join !!

[matthewsmania]

ty ty for the tag!!

aesthetic ↣ character ↣ me

npt: @jackiessnackie @soda-kidz @crimsonprose @celestl4lore @sincerelysoaps @moesthinking @misayani and everyone else and their mothers

[sincerelysoaps-deactivated20251]

hi hi, ty for the tag 🫶

npt: @saintsqueensbutchers, @mycovenclaudia, @croweden, @feralnataroni, @puppysepulchre, @rippedpatches, @tiredandsapphic and to everyone else who wants to join!!

[sapphicides]

thanks for the tag!! <33

it appears i’ve been avap (assigned vampire at pinterest) LMAO i’d say that’s pretty accurate

no pressure tags: @opt1mistic @artificialroux @logansdogmotif @lottieswidow @whodoesnataliehave

[lottieswidow]

🫶🫶🫶 ty for the tag

Chat how to turn off the ai stuff of Pinterest 🥀? Ngl the ‘me’ picture does resemble me the hair js needs to be longer n curlier 🙈

Npt: @yoonchaesno1 @stormfeast @silkove @dracunettes + anyone else who’d like to join

[yoonchaesno1]

ay ty for the tag!!

my pinterest is genuinely so brainrotted 😐💔

npt: @ojsimpsondidit @stayalittlelonger143 @gay-panic-at-all-times @jojo-1625 @snepy + anyone else who wants to participate <3

[jalinaalkenza]

ᴛɪɴᴋ ʏᴜ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɢ!!

ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴇʀɢʏ ᴛᴏ ᴇxᴘʟᴀɪɴ ᴛʜɪs, ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪᴛ's ᴏʙᴠɪᴏᴜs.

ɴᴘᴛ: @every/one/who/wants/to/participate;3

[jalinaalkenza]

come here, let me give you a big smooch after that amazing fic

ᴛʜɪs ᴀɪɴ'ᴛ ᴍʏ ғɪʀsᴛ ʀᴏᴅᴇᴏ ʙᴛᴡ 🖐😏🖐(ᴊᴀɴɪ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ᴡʜᴏ sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴀɢᴇ)— *ɪɴsᴇʀᴛ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ɪᴄᴏɴɪᴄ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏs ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ*

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ sɪɴɢʟᴇ ʙᴇᴇғ, ɪs ᴀ ᴅᴏᴏᴍᴇᴅ ʏᴜʀɪ.

[jalinaalkenza]

🆂🆈🅼🅿🅰🆃🅷🆈 🄸🅂

🄰🄲🅃🅄🄰🄻🄻🅈 𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑪 ♡

──────────────────

ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ: ᴘᴀʀᴛʏɢɪʀʟ!ᴄʜᴀʀʟɪxᴄx x ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀɢɪʀʟ!ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀsᴡɪғᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴇɴᴠʏ, ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇs sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛʟʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀs, sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ, sᴀᴛɪʀᴇ, ʀᴇғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇs, ɢʀᴀᴄɪᴇ ᴀʙʀᴀᴍs, ғʟᴜғғ!ʏᴜʀɪ

ＴＨＩＳ ＤＯＥＳＮ'Ｔ ＭＡＫＥ ＡＮＹ ＳＥＮＳＥ ＡＴ ＡＬＬ ♡

──────────────────

Taylor walked through the halls like she owned the place—and maybe, in a way, she did. All eyes followed her, drawn by that effortless charm she carried like sunlight through glass. Everyone adored her. That’s no secret. She was the star of every show, the girl with a name everyone knew and a story everyone wanted to live. A sorority darling, the kind who dated Hollywood’s rising sons and now held hands with the school’s golden football star.

Her grades? Impeccable. Her record? Untouched.

People whispered, “She’s the standard.” And maybe she was.

Because in a world built on image and envy, everyone wanted to be Taylor.

Everyone did — even Charli.

She told herself she shouldn’t want to be Taylor, but let’s be honest— who wasn’t at least a little intimidated by the Taylor Swift? Charli played it cool, pretended she didn’t care. But deep down, envy had already taken root.

She hated Taylor, not because of who she was, but because she was everything Charli wasn’t. Charli hated herself more for feeling that way.

Taylor was the golden girl — delicate, poetic, the kind of person who spoke softly yet somehow commanded every room. She was all light and lace, a leader when she needed to be, a follower when it made her humble. Her presence was polished, like she’d been born knowing how to shine.

Charli, on the other hand, was chaos dressed in glitter. A party girl with a reputation that lit up every rumor mill in town. She was loud, reckless, a little too honest for her own good. She broke hearts and rules like it was second nature. If Taylor was the sunrise, Charli was the wildfire that followed the night. They were opposites — two different worlds walking the same hallways, breathing the same air. Charli laughed it off whenever Taylor’s name came up, rolled her eyes, sipped her drink, pretended not to care.

“Gracie, oh my God… can we not talk about Boring Barbie for once?” Charli groaned, rolling her eyes as she took a sip of her drink.

Gracie blinked at her, caught off guard.

“Boring Barbie…?” she repeated slowly, the words tasting unfamiliar on her tongue as she stared at Charli in disbelief.

“Absolutely. You’ve been yapping about her nonstop, and it’s honestly making me yawn,” Charli said, her tone sharp but slurred at the edges.

She didn’t even realize who she was talking to— high, reckless, and teetering on the edge of her own chaos. Gracie sat beside her, quiet and uneasy, not quite sure how to handle Charli’s kind of wild. The music was loud, the lights too bright, and in that haze, Charli’s words cut through like broken glass—

careless, glittering, and bound to leave a mark.

“It’s almost like you hate her,” Gracie blurted out before she could stop herself. Charli scoffed, the sound dripping with sarcasm as she lifted her drink again. “Hate her?” she echoed with a low chuckle. “Please. She’s just… overrated. Don’t you think?” The words slipped out too easily, but she didn’t care. Not tonight.“She’s been on top for so long—and for what reason?” Charli went on, voice rising just enough to draw glances.

“I’m just glad she and my boyfriend’s friend broke up. It would’ve been absolute hell seeing her face every day.”

Gracie didn’t respond right away. She just sat there, eyes steady, quietly taking it all in— the cracks in Charli’s confidence, the jealousy spilling out like spilled champagne. This was the moment she’d been waiting for,

and she wasn’t about to waste it.

The next few days blurred by, and then—boom—Charli dropped a new record. It hit the campus like wildfire. A beat so raw, so alive, that it pulsed through every party, every hallway, every car stereo parked in the lot. Everyone expected it, of course—she was the party girl, the queen of chaos—but no one saw this coming. It wasn’t just another remix. It was deeper, darker, addictive. The kind of track that crawled under your skin and refused to leave.

By the time night fell, every speaker on campus was screaming her name.

Taylor walked through the campus, the bass from Charli’s remix echoing down every hallway. It was everywhere—blaring from dorm windows, car stereos, and the quad speakers. But beneath the heavy beat and electric rhythm, Taylor heard it. The words. The tone. The message.

She didn’t need to guess—she knew that track was about her.

Charli’s voice, sharp and confident, cut through the air like a well-aimed shot,

and before long, everyone was whispering. She's obsessed with her.

Because from Taylor's point of view, it was almost romantic. The infamous, unbothered party girl—bothered by her? Taylor found something strangely beautiful in that. The thought that Charli—wild, fearless Charli—had her name in her mouth, her face in her head, her voice turning Taylor’s existence into a melody. She didn’t need to know the context, Gracie's words and the track was enough of a proof for her, what mattered was simple— Charli was thinking about her. and it's honestly making her wet.

“So… she hates me?” Taylor asked, settling into the chair of her recording studio, the hum of equipment filling the silence. “I mean,” Gracie began carefully, “she did call you ‘Boring Barbie.’” Taylor let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Boring Barbie? That’s it?” she said, a grin tugging at her lips.

Gracie hesitated, then added, “And… she said she’s thankful you and her boyfriend’s friend broke up.” Taylor rolled her eyes, leaning back with a sigh that was half amusement, half disbelief.

“Of course she’s thankful,” she murmured, that same grin returning—calm, knowing, and just a little bit dangerous.

A few weeks later, Taylor struck back. Her new track dropped out of nowhere—no promos, no teasers—just a midnight release that lit the entire campus on fire. It wasn’t her usual soft, poetic sound. This one had bite.

Every lyric sharp enough to draw blood, every beat heavy with something colder than heartbreak—revenge. It didn’t take long for people to connect the dots .The way she laced her words with irony,

the not-so-subtle mentions of late-night parties, and that one line— “I heard you called me boring Barbie when the coke's got you brave.”

That was it. The smoking gun. Everyone knew exactly who she was talking about. Charli. The campus split overnight—Team Taylor or Team Charli.

Whispers turned into debates, debates turned into full-on drama, and both girls became the center of a storm neither could quite control anymore.

The air still trembled between them after their kiss behind the janitor’s closet. “And your song, wood—what’s it about?” Charli asked softly, a teasing smirk dancing on her lips. “It’s all about you,” Taylor whispered, her breath warm as she pinned Charli gently against the wall, their hearts beating in sync.

Taylor smiled. “So, you think about me?” she blurted out, her ego peeking through. “Who wouldn’t think about you?” Charli shot back, her tone half-tease, half-truth. “You’re probably high right now,” Taylor said, rolling her eyes. “Whatever you say, Barbie,” Charli replied, smirking.

Charli chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from Taylor’s face. “Be thankful I have a little sympathy for you, or else..."

Taylor grinned, her eyes glimmering. “I know… this is actually romantic.”