#'but how was i SUPPOSED to know that when i said i wanted to express myself by beating loved ones' faces bloody because i was mad'

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (10)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Supermodel!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 8.7k

Aliyah's Notes: another long chapter!!!! had a bit of an issue with this chapter. didn't know where to go, and how to finish it but i'm pretty satisfied with the ending... hope y'all will feel that way too #scared

You were going to throw up.

It was 6 in the morning, and your apartment was filled with a pre-party energy—Aisha fluttering around checking final details, making sure everything was perfect for you. But for you, the weight of the day felt unbearable. The engagement party was only a few hours away, and you were supposed to feel excited, but instead, all you could feel was anxiety.

You stood in front of the full-length mirror, staring at your reflection as the fabric of your saree clung to your skin. It was a beautiful one—pale yellow with blue hues, simple, elegant. But as you looked at yourself, all you saw were flaws. Your stomach, the slight curve of your hips, your arms felt weird. Every inch of you felt exposed, like you were wearing your insecurities on display for the world to see. The saree that was supposed to make you feel confident now felt like a prison, the tightness around your chest suffocating you.

You tugged at the fabric, your fingers trembling as your heart raced in your chest. “I don’t know, Aish,” you said, your voice faltering. “I just… I don’t think I can do this.”

Aisha, who had been running around your place, stopped and turned to you with a frown, concern written all over her face. “Y/N, you look perfect. Rafe is going to love it, I swear. You look incredible, seriously.”

But her words didn’t reach you. They never did. They didn’t fix the sinking feeling in your stomach, the pit that had been growing since you woke up. You didn’t feel incredible. You felt like a mess. Like a lie. You felt like you didn’t belong in this world of glitz and glamour, not when the weight of your own past was pressing down on you.

You turned back to the mirror, avoiding her gaze, and exhaled shakily. “It’s not about Rafe,” you said, barely above a whisper, as if the words were too heavy to say aloud. “It’s… it’s everything. Everyone.”

She didn’t speak at first, but you could hear her footsteps approach slowly, her presence gentle and calm as she stood beside you. “What do you mean?”

“They’re not here,” you murmured, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “My family—they haven’t been here. They don’t care.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and so did the tears running down your face. You quickly wiped them away, trying to maintain some sort of control, but it was useless. The reality of it all hit you like a tidal wave.

Aisah’s expression softened, and she placed a hand on your shoulder. “Look, I know it’s tough, but you left for a reason. They treated you like an animal—you were nothing to them and look at you now. You have everything you want, you’re surrounded by people who love you, and you’re engaged to an amazing guy.”

“But you don’t get it,” your voice broke. “I haven’t spoken to them in years, Aisha. I haven’t heard from them since… you know… My Amma and Appa… they’ve never cared to fix what happened. And now they’re not here for this huge moment. They’re not here for me. And I just feel… I feel like none of this matters without them.”

You could feel the tightness in your chest grow, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. Every time you thought about them—your parents, your siblings—it felt like the world was falling apart again. All the years of silence, the anger, the bitterness, the feeling of being abandoned… it was all still there, festering under the surface. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were always going to feel like the outsider, the one who wasn’t good enough for their love.

Aisha watched you quietly for a moment before speaking again, her voice softer. “Y/N, I know this isn’t easy. But this isn’t about your family. This is about you and the life you’re building. You’re so much more than your past, and tonight you get to shine. You’re not doing this for them. You’re doing it for you.”

You closed your eyes, letting her words sink in. You still feel the weight of it all, but as Aisha gave you one last reassuring look, you felt a small spark of resolve. Maybe you didn’t feel perfect. Maybe you never would. But tonight, you would step into this new chapter of your life, for you, and not for anyone else.

“You’re right,” you whispered, putting on a fake-ish smile. “Let me get over this. There’s too much to do today.”

The hours before the engagement party moved in a blur of preparations, but the nerves clung to you like an unwelcome guest. After Aisha helped you steady yourself, you dove into the checklist for the day, hoping to lose your anxieties in the bustle. Your hairdresser and makeup artist arrived promptly, transforming your apartment into a whirlwind of brushes, palettes, and fabric draping.

Despite the chaos, you couldn’t help but glance at your phone every few minutes, the screen lighting up teasingly with messages from Rafe. He’d been training all morning, but somehow still found the time to send you a steady stream of texts.

Rafe: Do you think this party will have snacks? Asking for a hungry basketball player.

You: There’s a buffet, Rafe. You’ll survive.

Rafe: Buffet doesn’t count. I want something good, like that thing you brought over the other day.

You: If you’re fishing for more biryani, the answer is no.

Rafe: Wow, first you take my penthouse, now you refuse me food? This marriage is starting off rocky.

You: This marriage hasn’t even started yet.

The exchange brought a smile to your lips despite yourself. He had this way of teasing that felt like a lifeline at the moment.

“Are you blushing?” Aisha teased from where she was meticulously laying out your jewelry.

“What? No,” you said, far too quickly. “Why would I even be blushing? You’re nuts… absolutely… absolutely nuts…”

“Oh my fucking God! You are!” she said with a grin, leaning in to glance at your phone. You pulled it away before she could peek at the screen, but the damage was done. “God, it’s so cute how he makes you smile like that.”

“You’re actually insane,” you mumbled, heat creeping up your neck.

She only laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “Denial is a river in Egypt, babe.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop your lips from twitching into a small grin. Rafe sent another message.

Rafe: So, what are you wearing?

You hesitated for a moment before replying.

You: Why? Thinking of copying my outfit?

Rafe: Maybe. But only if it’s good.

You: It’s a saree. Pale yellow with blue embroidery.

Rafe: Does it have one of those drapey things?

You: Yes, Cameron. That’s literally what makes it a saree!!!

Rafe: Got it. Drapey thing = saree. Send me a picture.

You didn’t respond, setting your phone down and pretending to focus on your makeup.

“Your husband?” Aisha asked, noticing your sudden quiet.

“Future husband,” you corrected with a finger up. “And obviously.”

“What’d he say?”

“He wants a picture.”

“Send him one. He’ll probably lose his mind. And let’s be real—you could use the ego boost.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. Aisha wasn’t wrong. The way Rafe looked at you sometimes—or even texted you—had a way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the room. 

The hairdresser finished with your slicked half-up half-down hairstyle. Aisha brought over the jewelry: delicate gold bangles, matching earrings, and a necklace that felt heavy against your collarbones.

“Perfect,” Aisha said, stepping back to admire the finished look.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror. The saree hugged you gracefully, the embroidery catching the light with every movement. The makeup brought a glow to your skin, and the hair framed your face perfectly. For the first time all day, you felt... good. 

Before you could overthink it, you picked up your phone and snapped a quick selfie—just enough to show the saree and the soft smile playing on your lips.

You: Fine. Here.

The reply came almost instantly.

Rafe: ...You’re killing me here.

Your heart skipped a beat at the simplicity of the words.

Rafe: Thank you brown people for existing, and making you. Rafe: Truly humanity owes them. Rafe: Forget the engagement party. Let’s just elope.

You laughed out loud, shaking your head.

You: Not happening. See you tonight.

His response made your stomach flutter in the strangest way.

Rafe: Can’t wait to become your fiancé, sweetheart.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the venue, its soft hum fading into the gentle buzz of the world outside. Through the tinted windows, you could see flashes of light—camera shutters capturing every moment like hunters seeking prey. The glow spilling from the venue, golden and inviting, felt overwhelming, almost oppressive. It danced off the grand arches of the villa, the soft flicker of string lights crisscrossing the courtyard casting a magical glow on the scene.

For a moment, you sat frozen, your fingers clutching the delicate fabric of your saree. It was meant to represent happiness, a tie to your heritage that should have brought you pride. But tonight, it felt more like a shackle, reminding you of the pieces of yourself you’d lost along the way.

“You okay?” Aisha’s voice came softly from beside you, laced with the familiar tone of concern that only she could carry so effortlessly. She looked radiant in her pale pink dress.

“Yeah… I… I’m fine,” you replied, the lie clumsy on your tongue.

Aisha raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced but deciding to let it slide. The car door opened, and she stepped out first, her head held high as though she didn’t care about anything—and knowing Aisha, she probably really didn’t care. When she turned to offer you her hand, her expression softened—a silent gesture of reassurance. You took it hesitantly, forcing your legs to carry you out of the car.

The cool evening air brushed against your skin, but it wasn’t enough to soothe the heat in your chest. Cameras clicked relentlessly, their flashes a blinding assault as the whispers began to ripple through the crowd.

“She’s a bit late.”

“She looks beautiful.”

“Why didn’t Rafe escort her out?”

“What is she wearing?”

Each word clawed at you, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed image you wore like an armor. You kept your head down, focusing on the rhythmic click of your heels against the gravel path as you made your way toward the villa’s entrance. The towering structure loomed over you, its ivy-draped walls and ornate carvings reminiscent of a bygone era. The cascading floral arrangements, all in deep crimson and soft pink hues.

Everything added to the suffocating pressure weighing on your chest.

Inside, the air buzzed with laughter and conversation as guests began to fill the sprawling garden. Long tables stretched across the courtyard, their surfaces glimmering with candles and vases bursting with fresh blooms. Everything was picturesque, perfect. Yet, all you could feel was a rising sense of dread.

“I need a minute,” you whispered to Aisha, not waiting for her reply before walking rapidly inside the villa.

You navigated the winding hallways with purpose, your steps quick but unsteady. You needed to escape—to find a quiet corner where the world’s eyes couldn’t follow, where you could let the overwhelming storm inside you settle, even just for a moment. The getting-ready room—it was the perfect refuge, a place to breathe and gather yourself before you faced the crowd again.

But as you rounded the corner, your steps faltered.

Rafe was there.

He leaned against the doorframe with an ease that felt infuriatingly effortless, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his tailored white suit. The soft lighting played tricks with the lines of his face, his tousled hair looking as if it had been styled by the wind itself. The open collar of his shirt gave him an air of nonchalance that made him seem untouchable—except for the flicker of something warm in his eyes as he met your gaze.

“You planning to bolt already?” he teased, a crooked smile playing on his lips. His voice, low and smooth, carried the same blend of humor and arrogance that had always annoyed you.

You stopped, caught off guard. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

Rafe pushed off the doorframe, taking a slow step toward you. “Waiting for you,” he said, his gaze dragging deliberately over your saree. His smile deepened as his eyes met yours again. “You look beau—”

“Rafe, I can’t do this,” you blurted, your voice trembling as the words spilled out before you could stop them.

The smile faded from his face, replaced by an expression of concern. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” you said, your voice breaking. “The people, the cameras, the party—it’s all too much.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed as he stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “You’ve done this a hundred times before,” he said softly. “What’s different now?”

You hesitated. “It’s not important,” you muttered, hoping he’d let it go. 

But Rafe wasn’t one to back down easily.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice steady but insistent. “Talk to me.”

You sighed, the lump in your throat growing heavier. “It’s stupid, okay? I’m just… I’m not used to this.”

“That’s not true.”

Your jaw tightened, and you looked away, your voice dropping to a whisper. “They’re not here.”

“Who?”

The question made you flinch, but you kept your response measured, your tone distant. “No one. It doesn’t matter.”

Rafe stepped closer, his presence grounding but not invasive. “It matters if it’s upsetting you.”

“It’s just… my family. We’re not close anymore, okay? And moments like this just remind me of that. But it’s fine. Whatever.”

His eyes softened, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say more. The details of your fractured relationship with your parents, the abuse, the years of silence—it wasn’t something you wanted to unpack here, not with him. You hated being this exposed, hated feeling so small under the weight of it all.

Rafe’s expression shifted, the concern in his eyes deepening. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against your arm. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady but kind. “Look at me.”

“I can’t,” you shook your head, refusing. “You won’t understand.”

“Then help me,” he urged, his hand still resting lightly on your arm. “Talk to me.”

The lump in your throat grew, the words threatening to choke you. “I left them,” you started. “But I had a reason. I couldn’t continue living there. We were poor, so poor, Rafe. Some days we were barely fed and barely had a roof over our heads,” your voice trembled, and you forced yourself to not close your eyes to not relieve that part of your life. “They forced me to se—” but you stopped yourself. Not ready to admit it to Rafe. “—whatever. I just don’t feel like I belong anywhere.”

His jaw tightened, his grip on your arm firming slightly. For a moment, he said nothing, his blue eyes scanning your face as if trying to piece together the fractures you’d worked so hard to hide. Then, quietly, he spoke.

“You belong here,” he said firmly, his voice steady. “With me. Tonight, this party, all of it—it’s for us. And I don’t care who’s not here, because I’m here, okay? You worked hard to get where you are, and you can’t let your past, or anyone, ruin it for you.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the fog of your doubt. Slowly, he reached for your hand, his fingers curling around yours with a warmth that steadied you.

You walked back toward the door, Rafe’s hand lightly resting against your back, guiding you through the villa. As you stepped into the bustling courtyard, the noise of the party hit you again—the sound of laughter, the clinking of glasses, the faint hum of music. It was impossible to escape the energy, the pressure of eyes watching.

You took a deep breath, trying to center yourself. Tonight wasn’t going to be easy, but you’d already survived the worst of it. With Rafe by your side, you could handle whatever came next.

The first person you spotted was Nina, her smile bright and easy as she chatted with a few guests by the drink station. She caught sight of you and waved, excusing herself from the conversation. Her dress—an elegant gold one—flattered her frame as she approached.

“You two disappeared for a while,” Nina said with a teasing glint in her eyes, though there was a hint of concern there, too. “Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah, don’t worry. Everything’s perfect,” you waved your hands to not worry her. “By the way, Rafe, this is Nina Ramos—my agent and my second mother.”

He extended his hand with a charming grin. “Nice to meet you,” he said smoothly. “YN’s been telling me a lot about you.”

Liar.

Nina took his hand, her sharp eyes flicking between the two of you. “Has she now? All good I hope,” and you nodded instantly. “Well, this party is important and beautiful. Maybe all your overthinking served you well—you look absolutely perfect, honey. You too, Rafe.”

“Thanks,” you blushed at her compliment.

Rafe smirked. “She does look perfect, doesn’t she?”

You gave him a playful look, your lips curling into a reluctant smile at his compliment. 

“I’ll leave you two to it,” she said, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “But it was great meeting you, Rafe Cameron.”

“Likewise,” he replied, and with one last smile, Nina disappeared back into the crowd.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you turned to Rafe with a small smile. “She’s a good friend of mine,” you said softly. “You’ll like her.”

Rafe gave you a raised eyebrow. “She seems cool. I can see why you’re friends.”

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter caught your attention, and you spotted Aisha, her arm linked with a tall, broad-shouldered man. Her husband, Ishan—someone you hadn’t seen in a while. You had to blink to fully register the change in him, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. 

Without thinking, you broke into a smile and made your way toward them, Rafe following behind.

As soon as Aisha spotted you, her face lit up with recognition. “Look who decided to surprise you,” she smiled, her voice higher because of how excited she was.

You immediately wrapped your arms around her husband, stepping into a hug. He chuckled, holding you tightly as he returned the embrace. “I’ve missed you,” you said, squeezing him as he laughed.

Ishan was like an older brother to you. He’d been there through some of the toughest times in your life, and his easy going nature always managed to bring you a sense of peace. His deep laugh and the familiarity of his embrace were exactly what you needed.

“I’ve missed you too, behen,” he said. “I come back to New York and I’m being told you’re getting married to Rafe Cameron. Imagine my surprise when Aisha told me.”

You pulled back from the embrace and laughed awkwardly. “Ah, yes, Rafe… Surprise, surprise, right?” 

Ishan furrowed his brows but you moved your hands. “I can’t really believe it… It’s really happening…”

“No, no! It’s not like—uh, well, okay, it is, but it’s like…” you turned your head to find Rafe behind Aisha making a cross with his hands. “I love it. He’s so, so, so funny and charming—and very committed, you know…”

“Uh huh, I see,” Ishan nodded and laughed at how weird you were being. “Can’t believe he’s gonna marry a loser like y—”

“So, you’re actually here. It’s been too long—how’s Switzerland?” you interrupted, and he sent you a look because he hated when you did that. “Sorry… but how is it? Did you climb every mountain and, like, yodel on top of a glacier?”

He chuckled a little and shook his head. “No, no yodelling, but I did eat tons of chocolate. I bought some for you too.” You did not even have time to reply to him that he extended a hand toward Rafe, his tone both warm and challenging. “So, you’re the infamous Rafe Cameron. My wife gave me a run-down on you. Some good things… and some questionable ones.”

"Your wife? Wait, who’s your wife?" Rafe asked, his confusion evident.

Oh, crap. You totally forgot to explain the whole family tree situation. Rookie mistake.

Aisha sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes as she raised her hand. "I’m the wife, genius. Seriously, YN—did you not tell him?"

"I’m sorry!" You blurted, cringing. "It completely slipped my mind. It’s just so normal to me that I didn’t even think to—"

Rafe interrupted you, and took Ishan’s hand in his. His smirk disarming but his handshake firm. “Well, I hope the good outweighed the questionable.”

“Debatable,” Ishan replied with a shrug. “But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt… at least until you give me a reason not to.”

You felt a knot in your stomach as you glanced between the two. Ishan wasn’t being hostile, but his protectiveness had always been intense, like that of an older brother who wasn’t afraid to test the waters.

Rafe, to his credit, didn’t back down. His smirk deepened slightly, and he shrugged with an air of playful confidence. “Fair enough. I’ll do my best not to disappoint.”

“I’d hope so,” Ishan said lightly, though the undertone was clear. His gaze softened as it flicked toward you, his voice gentler now. “You’ve got a good one here. Don’t mess it up.”

“Trust me, I know how lucky I am,” Rafe replied, glancing at you with an expression so sincere it caught you off guard.

The words made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t prepared for, a warmth spreading through you despite the nervous energy still bubbling beneath the surface.

Aisha rolled her eyes, slapping her husband’s chest. “Alright, alright, that’s enough intimidation for one night. Let’s get some drinks, baby.”

Ishan laughed, ruffling Aisha’s hair affectionately before turning to you. “If he gives you any trouble, you know where to find me, behen.”

You grinned at the familiar term of endearment, feeling a wave of gratitude for his presence. “Yup!”

With a wink, they both disappeared into the crowd, leaving you and Rafe standing together.

The second they were out of earshot, Rafe let out a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his hair. “So, is everyone in your life this protective, or is it just me getting the special treatment?”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “What can I say? People care about me. Better get used to it.”

“Noted,” Rafe said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “I’ll add it to the ever-growing list of things to keep in mind when dealing with your very... passionate circle of people.”

An awkward silence stretched between us as you scanned the guests arriving. You recognized a few—Aisha’s mom, aunts, and cousins, mingling with Nina’s friends and siblings. You couldn't help but wonder if your wedding would be filled with people who didn’t really know you either.

Rafe stepped closer, standing next to you, and flashed a playful grin. "So, Ishan… he’s your… older brother, right?" He asked, clearly trying to figure out the family dynamic.

You turned to him with a soft laugh, shaking my head. "No, not my brother," you said, before pausing for a moment, trying to find the right words. "Okay, let me explain." You drew in a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "Ishan’s more like the brother I never had—well, I do have brothers, but when I left home, I hadn’t really connected with them. But then I came to the U.S. and met Aisha, and Ishan just sort of stepped into that role. We’ve been through everything together—good, bad, you name it. He’s always had my back. No blood relation, but he might as well be."

Rafe’s expression softened as he absorbed that, nodding. “Sounds like he’s a pretty solid guy.”

“He really is,” you smiled, warmth creeping into your voice. “He and Aisha have always had my back, and they’ve been together for years now. They make a great team.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he said, grinning. “He’s got that same intimidating vibe as she does. You can practically feel it.”

You laughed, nodding in agreement. “Exactly! Aisha and I used to joke about it. She always said, if I needed someone to scare off a date, I’d just call Ishan. Aisha’s got that sharp edge, and Ishan? He’s got the muscles.”

“I can definitely see that…” he said with a thoughtful nod before asking, “So, what kind of dynamic do you think we have?”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze for a moment as the question hung in the air. “Uh, well…” You cleared your throat. “I mean, we’re… we’re like, uh, a work in progress? Yeah, that sounds right. Like one of those ‘under construction’ signs, you know? A little chaotic…?” You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Chaotic? Really? You’re gonna call us chaotic?”

“Yeah, well, have you met you?” You shot back, crossing your arms. “You’re like a walking disaster zone.”

He laughed, leaning back. “Oh, I’m a disaster? You’re the one who keeps on throwing shade. For no reason at all.”

“That’s because you don’t know how to mind your own business,” you snapped, the words biting as you shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re the one getting all up in my space with your weird questions.”

“I’m not asking weird questions,” he shot back, his voice rising to match the sharpness of yours. “And do you seriously think we’re chaotic?”

You gave him a side-eye, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Chaotic is an understatement, Cameron. We’re a disaster—with a capital D.”

He laughed, the sound low and amused, as though he didn’t take you seriously. “Oh really? You’re one to talk. You practically live for the drama.”

“Me? I live for drama?” You scoffed, pivoting fully to face him now, hands planted firmly on your hips as you let your eyes travel up and down him in a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. “You’re the definition of drama. You can’t even breathe without making everything about you.”

His lips curled into a grin, the kind that made your stomach twist in a way you refused to acknowledge. “You’re so easy to rile up.”

“You’re a jackass,” you muttered, shaking your head, every fiber of your being wanting to push him away—but not sure if you meant physically or emotionally.

He leaned in slightly, as if to throw another jibe your way, but instead, his eyes gleamed with mischief. “I think you’re just mad because I’m better at this than you.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you closed the distance between you, but the move was more impulsive than you intended. You instantly regretted it, realizing just how close you were to him now, the heat from his body practically radiating against yours. You swallowed, trying to mask the effect it had on you. “Better at what? Being a complete asshole?” Your voice wavered with a sharpness that betrayed how much it bothered you. “Yeah, Rafe, you’re a pro at that.”

He leaned in even closer, and this time, his grin wasn’t just playful—it was dangerous. “You love it,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave, making your heart skip a beat.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you rolled your eyes, trying to keep control of the situation. “Oh, fuck off. The only thing I like is when you finally shut up.” You crossed your arms tighter, trying to distance yourself emotionally, but it was hard to ignore the proximity between you two, the tension hanging thick in the air.

He was close now, too close, and it was suffocating in the most unsettling way. His breath was warm against your skin, the space between you closing so much that you could almost taste the words on his lips before they even came. 

“Is that so?” His voice was low, teasing, his grin widening as his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there just long enough to make you feel it.

You couldn’t help it—you gulped, the way he was looking at you making your pulse race, something deep inside you stirring against the cold front you were trying so hard to put up. “Yeah, that so,” you managed, but your voice had a tremor to it now, and you hated yourself for it.

He smiled, the kind of smile that could make you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. “Well, in that case,” he said, the words dragging as he leaned even closer, his breath ghosting over your ear, “I’m just gonna keep talking.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried enough weight to send a shiver down your spine.

You couldn’t tell if you wanted to scream at him or kiss him.

You could feel his presence pressing in on you, the heat between you two almost unbearable, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. The world outside of him seemed to vanish, the hum of the city, the weight of your thoughts, everything melting away until there was only the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. You knew you should pull away, should say something, anything, to break this tension, but the words wouldn’t come.

He watched you closely, his eyes locked onto yours, a hint of something unreadable flickering there—something playful, something dangerous, maybe both.

“You look like you’re about to say something,” he said, his voice thick with amusement.

You opened your mouth, trying to push past the lump in your throat, but it felt like the words were stuck. Instead, you just looked at him—really looked at him for the first time in what felt like forever. He was close, too close, but in that moment, it felt impossible to back away. He made you feel things you didn’t want to feel, things that you didn’t understand.

“I don’t wanna say anything,” you muttered, the words slipping out as a mix of frustration and something you refused to acknowledge.

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, that devilish smirk curling on his lips.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, but you didn’t say a word. You simply nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line, trying to hold onto some semblance of control.

He closed the gap between you, leaning in with deliberate slowness. You could feel the heat of his body inching closer, the soft scent of his cologne filling your senses, until his lips barely brushed against your cheek. The kiss was featherlight, teasing—infuriatingly so. It was enough to make your stomach twist with desire, but you refused to let it show. You wanted to press your thighs together, to feel that familiar ache between your legs, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he was affecting you.

“Well, I have something to say,” his voice was low, rich with satisfaction as he lingered just inches from your skin. “I think… You’re not as immune to me as you like to pretend.”

The words sent a jolt through your chest, but you shook your head, pulling your hands up to his chest, your fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt, then gliding slowly to his neck, tracing the line of his jaw before resting at the back of it. You felt his pulse under your fingertips, and your breath hitched.

“I don’t… I don’t pretend,” you said, your voice quieter, but the frustration bubbling underneath was unmistakable. “You’re just an idiot,” you continued, pressing your palms harder into his skin. “And so fucking frustrating.”

He let out a dark chuckle, the sound dripping with arrogance. “Look at you.” His hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. “You’re getting all worked up. You want this, don’t you? I can see it. You’re practically begging me to fuck you right now with those eyes. Is that what you want, baby?”

Every nerve in your body screamed yes. You could feel your pulse racing, your skin burning as his words settled deep inside you. The ache between your legs was undeniable now, but your mind fought back. Your heart was pounding in your ears, screaming no. You couldn't let yourself fall for this again. You remembered the last time—the cold distance after everything had gotten too real, the way he’d pulled away, leaving you shattered. You couldn’t be left like that again. 

But then, the look on his face—those sharp eyes, glimmering with something dangerous. He looked so good, so fucking good, in that white suit that fit him like a second skin. The way it molded to his chest, the tightness around his biceps, made your breath catch in your throat. You couldn’t help it. You wanted to touch him, feel the strength of his muscles under your fingers, wanted to bite at his neck, press your lips to the smooth skin there and feel him shudder beneath you.

God, it was maddening. You hated how he made you feel so out of control, how every inch of him seemed to draw you in. Your body was betraying you, and you hated it.

But what about him? Did he feel the same pull? Did he burn for you the way you did for him, or was this just another game for him to play, another conquest to add to his long list? The uncertainty gnawed at you.

Rafe’s eyes never left you as you fought to suppress the desire stirring within you. But he knew it. He could see it in the way your breath hitched, in the way you couldn’t stop your hands from brushing against him, testing the limits, even as you pretended to resist. 

But something shifted in him. He straightened, his posture changing, the smug grin slipping ever so slightly as his gaze flickered to the entrance of the party.

It wasn’t just any glance—it was sharp, instinctive. He’d caught sight of someone familiar, someone whose presence immediately shifted the air in the room.

You followed his line of sight, your chest tightening as you noticed who it was: The Cameron family. Sarah, Wheezie, Rose, and Ward. Their arrival had a different weight, one that Rafe clearly felt deep in his bones. You saw the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes darkened for just a moment, before he quickly masked it with a flash of that signature cocky smile.

Ward, tall and imposing in his crisp suit, moved with the sort of authority that always seemed to follow him. Rose, on his arm, was more subdued but equally elegant, her gaze sharp as she surveyed the crowd, clearly scanning for something or someone. Their eyes met Rafe’s across the room, and the tension in his body was palpable.

His hand, which had been resting lightly at your waist, now tightened, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress in a way that made you wonder if he even noticed. But you noticed him. You noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way he suddenly seemed aware of every movement, every gesture, every word spoken around him.

He cleared his throat, stepping back slightly from you, though his body remained rigid, still keeping you close. “I think my parents just walked in,” he said quietly, as though speaking more to himself than to you, but the edge in his voice was unmistakable.

You looked at him, the reality of the situation settling in. His family—his father, especially—was here, and suddenly everything felt different. The air seemed heavier. The playful banter between you both had shifted into something more guarded, more calculated.

“Yeah, I noticed,” you whispered.

Rafe took a slow breath, his eyes never leaving his parents as they moved further into the room, exchanging greetings with guests. He didn’t speak immediately, as if preparing himself for whatever role he was about to play in front of them. His jaw clenched again, but he quickly forced a smile back onto his face, turning to you.

“Let’s go say hello, yeah?” His voice was smoother now, though you could still sense the unease beneath the surface. It was almost like he was pulling back, retreating into the version of himself he showed them—controlled, perfect, everything his father demanded of him. “Is that okay with you?”

No.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his tension on your shoulders, but you followed him. The closer you got to his family, the more you could feel the pressure build. Rafe's movements were more deliberate now, like he was preparing to play his part in the family drama. You couldn’t help but notice how differently he held himself around them—like a man who knew he would never measure up, no matter how much he tried.

Rafe paused just before reaching them, throwing you a look that was both apologetic and protective. It was as if, for just a moment, he needed you to understand how much this moment mattered. But you weren’t sure if it was about impressing them or surviving the encounter with his family’s expectations. Whatever it was, you could feel it thick in the air, something unspoken but undeniable.

Rafe’s steps slowed as you reached his father, Ward. He was a towering figure, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his presence seemingly taking over the entire space. Rose, his stepmother, stood slightly behind him, elegant and poised, her eyes a sharp contrast to Ward’s cool and calculating demeanor.

Rafe stopped just short of them, his hand still on your waist, but his stance had subtly shifted—he was guarded, unsure, like he was ready to retreat if the need arose.

“Dad,” Rafe greeted, his voice smooth but lacking its usual confidence. His posture was just a little too stiff, as if waiting for the inevitable judgment that would come with every interaction.

Ward's gaze lingered on Rafe for a beat longer than normal before he acknowledged him, his tone clipped. “Rafe,” he said, the smile on his face barely noticeable, more a polite curve of the lips than anything genuine. “You’re looking well.”

The words hung in the air, but they didn’t carry any warmth. It was a statement of fact rather than praise, and it made your skin prickle. You could feel Rafe tense beside you, his fingers tightening just a little, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he gave a small, practiced smile and nodded. “Thanks, Dad.”

You remained silent for a moment, unsure of where to fit in, but Sarah, ever the warm presence, was the first to step forward. She flashed you a grin, her eyes already lighting up with recognition. “Hey, YN!” she said enthusiastically, her voice a welcome contrast to the tension in the air. "So good to see you again!"

"Hi, Sarah," you responded, your smile easing a little, feeling comforted by her energy. "It’s good to see you too."

She pulled you into a friendly hug, and you found yourself relaxing into it. Sarah had this easygoing charm about her, a lightness that made you forget the weight of the room for a moment. She was everything Rafe wasn’t—effortlessly kind, bubbly, and generous with her affection.

“Wheezie and I were just talking about you,” Sarah added, and you turned to find a petite, younger girl standing a few feet away.

Wheezie’s face lit up when she caught your gaze. “Hi. I’m Wheezie. It’s cool to meet you.”

You smiled at her. “Hi, Wheezie. I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you too.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, clearly nervous. “You’re a model, right? That’s so cool. I’ve seen your pictures in Vogue!”

You blinked in surprise, warmth spreading in your chest. “You have?”

“Yeah!” Wheezie nodded enthusiastically. “You’re so pretty, and your outfits are amazing. How did you even start doing that?”

Her genuine curiosity was disarming, and for a moment, you forgot the tension hanging in the air. You leaned slightly closer, your smile becoming more natural. “It’s a long story, but I’ll tell you sometime if you want.”

Wheezie’s face lit up. “Really? That’d be awesome.”

Rafe, who had been watching the interaction silently, finally spoke up, his voice tinged with amusement. “Wheezie, you’re gonna scare her off.”

Wheezie flushed, but she grinned up at her brother. “I’m just being friendly.”

“She’s fine,” you said quickly, shooting Wheezie a reassuring smile. “It’s nice to meet someone who’s actually interested in what I do.”

Rose cleared her throat, interrupting the light moment. “Oh, we’re interested in you, dear,” she said, her tone honeyed but with an edge of condescension. “Rafe’s been so secretive about you, it’s about time we got to know you better.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you apologized with a polite smile. “I’m here now, though.”

“Yes, you are,” Ward interjected, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Rafe mentioned your career. It must be… demanding.”

You nodded carefully. “It can be, but I enjoy it. I’ve worked hard to get where I am.”

Ward tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “And maintaining that image must be just as hard. I imagine you have to watch every calorie to stay in shape for your work. Must be exhausting.”

The words hit you like a sharp slap, your chest tightening as old insecurities clawed their way to the surface. You forced a neutral smile, but your nails dug into the palm of your hand to keep steady. “It’s part of the job,” you replied carefully, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you.

Rose waved a dismissive hand, her eyes flitting over you in a way that felt equally invasive. “Don’t listen to him, honey. You look perfectly healthy to me. Honestly, I’d kill to have your body.”

Her words were meant as a compliment, but they were worse than his. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice quieter now.

Rafe stiffened beside you, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said, his tone firm, a warning laced beneath the words.

But Ward ignored him, his attention still on you. “We’re not saying anything wrong. She does look healthy… in a sickly way.” His smile was thin, and though the words were spoken lightly, there was an edge to them.

You forced another smile, but your composure was slipping. The weight of their attention, the veiled comments, the subtle dissection of your body—it was too much.

“I’m sorry,” you said abruptly, stepping back slightly. “Excuse me for a moment.”

The moment you stepped into the bathroom, the world outside seemed to dissolve. The faint hum of voices from the gathering became muffled as you locked the door and leaned against it, your chest heaving. You clutched your stomach, the ache inside more emotional than physical, as Ward’s and Rose’s comments echoed in your mind.

Your reflection in the mirror stared back, unkind and unforgiving. You pressed your trembling hands against the sink, breathing shallowly as the familiar sensation of panic crept up your throat.

No matter how far you thought you’d come, it was always there — lurking in the shadows, waiting for a moment of vulnerability. Your stomach churned violently, the pressure too much. You barely made it to the toilet before the wave overtook you.

Kneeling on the cold tile, you hated yourself for this relapse. Your body trembled as tears stung your eyes, the shame wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. You knew better. Yet here you were, undone by a handful of careless words.

The door suddenly creaked open. Panic seized you as you tried to compose yourself, but it was too late.

“YN?” Rafe’s voice was low and tentative, laced with worry. He must’ve picked the lock.

You froze, your back to him, trying to will him away. “Go away, Rafe.”

He didn’t. Instead, he stepped inside, shutting the door softly behind him.

You heard the scuff of his shoes as he approached, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. “Please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Just leave me alone.”

But then he was kneeling beside you, his presence warm and steady despite the storm raging inside you. His hand gently touched your back, and you flinched, but he didn’t pull away.

“I’m here,” he said simply, his tone quiet but firm. He reached out, gathering your hair and pulling it away from your face with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me help.”

The knot in your throat tightened, and a sob escaped before you could stop it. You covered your face with your hands, shaking your head. “I’m so pathetic,” you choked out, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I promised myself I’d never do this again. I’ve tried so hard to move on, to be better. But it’s always there. It’s always waiting for me to fail.”

He paused, his hand stilling for a moment before he spoke. “You’re not failing,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re human. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still standing. That’s not failing, YN. That’s surviving.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you finally turned to look at him. His blue eyes were fixed on you, full of a mix of anger and concern—not at you, but for you. He reached up, brushing a tear from your cheek with a gentleness that nearly broke you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked carefully.

You hesitated, your walls instinctively rising. But something about the way he looked at you—without judgment, without pity—made you feel safe enough to let them down.

“It’s… it’s complicated,” you began, your voice shaky. “I’ve struggled with this for a long time. Since I was a teenager. Modeling didn’t cause it, but it made it worse. Everyone always has something to say about my body—it’s too thin, it’s too big, it’s never enough.” you swallowed hard, your throat burning. “And tonight… your dad, Rose… they just hit a nerve.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and you could see the anger flickering in his eyes. But he didn’t interrupt, letting you speak at your own pace.

“I thought I was past it,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “But it never really goes away. It just… quiets down. Until something like this happens.”

Rafe nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I get it,” he said, surprising you. “Not in the same way, but I get it. The pressure, the expectations. Feeling like no matter what you do, it’s never enough.”

You stared at him, the rawness in his voice catching you off guard.

“I’m sorry for that,” you whispered, fresh tears spilling over. “And for what you saw.”

“Don’t apologize,” Rafe said firmly, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently. “You don’t have to apologize. Not to me. Not to anyone.”

His words cracked something open inside you, and the sobs came harder now, wracking your body. Rafe didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you cried into his chest.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice steady and soothing. “I’ve got you. I promise.”

After what felt like an eternity, your tears began to subside. You pulled back slightly, embarrassed by the mess you’d made of his shirt. “Sorry,” you mumbled, wiping at your face.

Rafe chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Don’t be. This shirt was ugly anyway.”

The small attempt at humor made you smile, even if it was faint. He stood, helping you to your feet, his hand steadying you as you wavered.

“You okay?” he asked, his gaze searching for yours.

You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure. “I just… need a minute. Is that okay?”

Rafe hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave you alone. But after a moment, he nodded. “Alright… Take all the time you need. I’ll be right outside.”

As he stepped toward the door, you felt a pang of guilt. “Rafe?”

He turned back, his expression softening.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “For… this.”

His lips curved into a small smile. “Don’t mention it.”

“Are you serious right now?” Rafe’s voice was sharp, cutting through the murmur of conversation like a knife. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Rafe—” Ward started, but his son didn’t let him finish.

“No, you listen to me,” he snapped, his anger palpable. “If you ever talk to her like that, we’re done. I mean it.”

Your heart stopped, and you moved closer, careful to stay out of sight.

“Rafe, calm down,” Rose’s voice said, her tone exasperated.

“No,” Rafe snapped. “I’m not calming down. Do you have any idea what you just did? What your comments did to her?”

There was a beat of silence before Ward spoke, his tone dismissive. “It was just a harmless observation. She’s a grown woman. She can handle it.”

“Harmless?” Rafe’s voice rose, trembling with fury. “You don’t know the first thing about her, and you sure as hell don’t get to say shit like that to her ever again.”

“Rafe—”

“No,” he cut Ward off, his voice firm and unyielding. “You don’t get to do this. Not to her. If you can’t show her some respect for once in your life, then don’t bother talking to her at all.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

Your chest tightened, a swell of emotions rising as you listened to him defend you with such ferocity. For all his cocky bravado and sarcastic quips, Rafe had just shown you a side of himself you hadn’t expected.

A side that cared.

A side that would fight for you.

You stepped back, went back to the bathroom, giving him space to finish the conversation. But as you stood there, a small, genuine smile broke across your face.

When Rafe returned to the bathroom, his shoulders were tense, but his eyes softened when they landed on you. “Hey,” he said quietly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” you echoed, your voice trembling slightly.

“I’m sorry if I took too long,” he said, sitting beside you on the floor. “I had to take care of some—.”

“I heard you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You heard me?” his brows furrowed. “Heard what?”

“What you said. To them. Ward and Rose.”

“Oh…” his eyes widened. “I’m sorry if you think I stepped a line. It just really pissed me off what they said about you and thought that if you were going to see them again, they should know their li—”

“You don’t need to apologize, Cameron,” you interrupted, a quiet laugh slipping past your lips, the sound easing the tension in his shoulders. “Thank you, though…”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside the room fell away. “Of course.”

He stood and extended a hand to you, palm open and steady. You hesitated for the briefest moment, not because you didn’t want to take it but because the gesture felt like more than it was. When your hand slipped into his, his fingers closed around yours.

You stood, brushing invisible creases from your saree and adjusting the edges with nervous precision. Rafe’s eyes lingered on you, watching the delicate way your fingers moved, the subtle rise and fall of your shoulders as you steadied yourself.

When you glanced up at him, offering a soft, grateful smile, something in his chest tightened, and he knew he was done for.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you said, your voice stronger now.

He nodded, but as you turned toward the door, he couldn’t stop himself from saying it, even if you wouldn’t hear it. “You’re worth it,” he whispered, the words low and raw, like they’d been pulled straight from his heart.

He stood there, hand still tingling from where yours had been, a storm of emotions churning inside him. His mind raced, his heart pounded, and every inch of him felt consumed by something he wasn’t ready to name.

chapter eleven.

[caitified]

thanksgiving

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none

thanksgiving with caitlin was something you’d been looking forward to for weeks. it was your first time hosting together in your shared apartment in indianapolis, and caitlin was determined to make it perfect.

you stood in the kitchen, focused on making sure the turkey was carved just right when you felt a familiar presence behind you. caitlin’s arms snaked around your waist, her chin resting on your shoulder.

“need some help?” she asked softly, her warm breath tickling your ear.

“you’re supposed to be entertaining your family,” you replied with a smirk, leaning back slightly into her embrace.

“they’re fine,” she said, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “besides, i missed you.”

you rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. before you could say anything more, caitlin’s brother strolled into the kitchen, his eyebrow raised at the two of you.

“okay, lovebirds, save it for later,” he teased, grabbing a drink from the counter.

caitlin turned to face her, not letting go of you. “jealous much?” she shot back with a grin.

“hardly,” he replied, but the amused look on his face betrayed his sarcasm. he walked back out to the living room, shaking his head.

caitlin kissed your temple before finally pulling away. “i’ll let you finish. but don’t take too long—i’m not sharing you for the whole night.”

you laughed as she disappeared into the other room, and after a few more minutes, you emerged from the kitchen with the turkey, setting it down in the center of the table. everyone cheered as caitlin helped guide you to your seat beside her, sneaking a quick kiss on your cheek as you sat down.

dinner was lively and full of stories, many of them from caitlin’s time at iowa. her dad was in the middle of telling a particularly embarrassing story from her childhood when caitlin reached under the table, lacing her fingers with yours. she leaned in close, her voice low enough for only you to hear.

“can you believe this? they always gang up on me during the holidays,” she whispered, her mock-annoyed expression making you stifle a laugh.

“you love it,” you teased, squeezing her hand.

“maybe,” she admitted, grinning. “but only because you’re here to make it bearable.”

you shook your head at her dramatics but couldn’t help feeling a warmth spread through your chest. moments like these, where caitlin’s playful charm was on full display, made you fall for her even more.

after dinner, while the others migrated to the couch to watch football, you stayed behind in the kitchen to start cleaning up. caitlin joined you soon after, rolling up her sleeves and grabbing a dish towel.

“you don’t have to help,” you said as she started drying dishes.

“i want to,” she replied, glancing at you with that soft smile she reserved just for you.

the two of you worked in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of conversation and laughter from the living room serving as a backdrop. then caitlin broke the quiet.

“you know,” she said, leaning against the counter once the dishes were done. “i think this might be my favorite thanksgiving ever.”

“why’s that?” you asked, turning to face her.

she stepped closer, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “because it’s the first one with you.”

her words made your heart race, and before you could respond, she cupped your face in her hands, kissing you softly. it was a moment of quiet intimacy amid the chaos of the holiday, a reminder of how much caitlin meant to you—and how much you meant to her.

“i love you,” she said when she pulled back, her forehead resting against yours.

“i love you, too,” you whispered, smiling up at her.

and as the night went on, surrounded by love and laughter, you couldn’t imagine a better way to spend the holiday than by caitlin’s side.

[daisymbin]

hiii!! can I get request #25 angst with wonwoo? thank you so much!! btw you're such an amazing writer 🩷🩷

thank you cutie!!!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list

angst prompt #25: "how could you keep this from me?"

you were sitting on the couch when you heard the front door slam open, followed by hurried footsteps. your heart skipped a beat as you froze, your mind struggling to make sense of the situation. wonwoo. he was supposed to be gone for another two weeks—why was he back so early?

there he was, standing in the doorway with a look of frantic concern etched across his face. his eyes immediately scanned the room before landing on you, sitting there in the dim light, a bandage wrapped around your arm.

“what happened to your arm?” his voice cracked slightly as he stepped into the room, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you. “why didn’t you tell me?”

you looked up at him, startled by his sudden arrival, and the guilt hit you like a wave. "wonwoo, i—" you began, but the words seemed to catch in your throat.

he took a few steps closer, his eyes full of hurt and confusion. “jeonghan told me,” he said, voice steady but filled with an edge. “he said he drove you to the hospital earlier this week. why didn’t you tell me?”

you winced as you shifted slightly, the pain from your fractured arm a dull reminder of what you’d been trying to hide. “it’s not a big deal,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “it’s just a little fall. it wasn’t worth worrying you over.”

wonwoo’s face hardened, his jaw clenching. “a little fall?” his voice was low, but there was an underlying anger in it. “you’re telling me that you—you—broke your arm and didn’t think it was worth telling me?”

you swallowed, trying to hold back the emotions threatening to spill. you hadn’t meant to upset him, hadn’t meant to make him feel this way. but now, with him standing here, looking at you with that hurt expression, it felt like the world was crashing down.

"wonwoo, i didn’t want to make you worry," you said softly, voice trembling. "you were already so busy with work. you had so much to focus on. i didn’t want to add to it."

wonwoo shook his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "are you serious?" he asked, his voice rising. "do you really think that’s how this works? that i’d rather not know? that you’d rather handle something this big on your own?"

you flinched at his tone, the sting of his words sinking deep. "i didn’t think it was that big a de," you whispered, guilt washing over you. "it was just a stupid mistake. a fall."

"it’s not about the fall," he snapped, his eyes flashing with a mixture of hurt and anger. "it’s about you thinking you had to handle it alone. alone, when you know i’m always here for you. do you really think i wouldn’t care about something like this? that i wouldn’t want to be there for you? how could you keep this from me?"

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you looked down at your bandaged arm, guilt gnawing at your insides. you didn’t want to make him feel left out or unimportant.

"wonwoo, i didn’t want to burden you," you murmured. "i didn’t want you to feel like you had to drop everything just because of something small. you’ve been so focused on your work, and i didn’t want to be the reason you had to come back early."

he stared at you, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath. for a moment, the anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by an overwhelming sense of disappointment. “you think this is a burden? that me being there for you would be a burden?” his voice was softer now, though the hurt was still evident in every word.

you met his gaze, your own eyes filled with regret. "i just thought i could handle it on my own."

wonwoo stepped closer, his expression softening, but there was still a trace of sadness in his eyes. "but you’re not alone," he said quietly, almost like a plea. "you don’t have to handle everything by yourself. not when you’ve got me. and you especially don’t have to keep things like this from me."

the words hit you hard, like a punch to the gut. you hadn’t realized until now just how much he must’ve been worrying about you, even while he was away. he wasn’t just your boyfriend—he was your partner, your best friend, and you’d shut him out when he should’ve been the first person you turned to.

"i’m sorry," you whispered, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. "i just didn’t know how to tell you. i didn’t know if you’d think i was being dramatic or if you’d blame yourself for not being here."

wonwoo sighed deeply, stepping closer to you, his hand gently resting on your uninjured shoulder. "don’t apologize," he said softly. "i’m just... i’m just hurt that you thought you had to hide it from me. you should’ve told me. you should’ve trusted me with it."

you nodded, wiping your eyes quickly. "i know. i know i should’ve. i just... i didn’t want to worry you."

he gave you a small, almost sad smile. "i’d rather you tell me, even if it’s something small to you. because to me, nothing you go through is small."

for a moment, you both just stood there, the weight of everything between you settling in the silence. there was no easy way to fix the hurt you’d caused, but you knew one thing—next time, you wouldn’t keep anything from him.

"i’m sorry," you said again, your voice quieter this time.

wonwoo sighed, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "you don’t have to keep apologizing," he murmured. "just promise me you’ll tell me next time."

you nodded, a small smile breaking through the guilt. "next time," you promised.

[ace-of-zaun]

Kiss Me More. pt 2:

silco x f!reader - 1.8k words - SFW

series summary: “Whatever, all I’m saying is, I can teach you how to kiss,” Silco insists, before adding just a little too nonchalantly, “You know, if you want to.”

cw: first dates, jealous silco, silco is a little shit, silco causing problems on purpose, mild angst, mild sexual references, fluff, friends to lovers, young silco

PART 1 

-

One agonising, excruciatingly long week later and neither you nor Silco have mentioned the kiss again. In fact, Silco has been so weird, (well, weirder than he normally is anyhow) that you’re genuinely starting to worry you accidentally damaged some of his brain cells when you pulled on his hair. 

He holds himself all weirdly now, like he’s forgotten how sitting or standing works. And he stares and stares and stares at you, and then scowls when you look back or ask him what’s wrong. 

You even catch him just standing staring at your bedroom door one day, smack bang in the middle of the corridor, but when you question what he’s doing he just grunts at you and slams into his own bedroom, the tips of his ears flushed crimson.

This, frankly unhinged, behaviour continues right up until you’re leaving for your date with Seven. 

Vander, the wonderful, had said you looked lovely, and Silco, the prat, had just scowled at your outfit and crossed his arms in a huff.

Not wanting to spend the whole of your first ever date giving a rage-fuelled rant about your idiot best friend, you’d taken a deep breath and magnanimously chosen to just roll your eyes at him, instead of picking a fight. 

You can get him back later by unpicking the seams of his favourite shirt, anyway. That’ll show him. 

But as you’d looked over your shoulder to say goodbye to the boys, fingertips hanging loosely off the door handle, you’d caught Silco surreptitiously looking you up and down with a surprisingly soft look on his face. 

It had thrown you for a bit of a loop, the little motion and facial expression re-playing in your head over and over again as you’d walked through the streets of Zaun…

But then there’s no time to think of it anymore because you’re suddenly on your date with Seven - who you think you like. It’s a bit difficult to tell, honestly. 

The date goes well (you guess, you’ve never been on one before, so there’s nothing to really compare it to). He’d taken you to dinner at one of the local food stalls because the restaurants on The Promenade are far, far too expensive, but at least the food had been familiar. 

Plus, it was way nicer than any of Sil’s burnt, home-made meals… Probably. (Okay, maybe you’ve grown a little bit fond of them after all this time.)

You and Seven had talked for most of the date. And you’d gotten to know each other a little bit better. Well, you’d got to know Seven better; you didn’t really get much of a chance to talk about yourself, in between his monologues. 

And sure, you didn’t kiss, but he did hold your hand on the way home. 

Now, as you reach your apartment building, Seven insists on walking you up to your flat, even gesturing for you to climb the stairs before him with a sweep of his arm. And when you finally arrive outside your apartment door, he turns to you with a strange, smug look on his face. 

“Well, I suppose this brings an end to our evening,” he says, voice dropping in a way that you assume is meant to be seductive, but honestly just makes him sound like he needs a cough drop. “But there is one more thing I want to do before I leave.”

Before you even have a chance to respond, Seven is backing you up against the door, arms slithering around you until they rest low around your waist (a little too low if you’re being honest). An uncomfortable feeling settles in your chest but then he’s leaning down and lining his lips up with yours and-

Shit, this is it. He’s going to kiss you. 

You heave a sharp intake of breath and desperately try to remember everything Silco had told you during your little practice session, but it’s currently quite difficult to think properly when your heart is drumming in your chest and your hands are shaking. 

Of course, thinking about Silco must summon him because instead of feeling the sensation of lips on lips, you’re suddenly experiencing the sensation of falling, as the door opens behind you. 

Without the solid, wooden surface holding your upper back in place, you tip backwards with a squeal, only saved from falling flat on your arse by Seven tightening his arms around you and setting you back on your feet. 

Instantly, you want his suffocating arms off of you, so you subtly shove him away as you turn to face the culprit of the opening door. 

“Silco!”

“Hey, you’re back,” he announces, a little too casually. It doesn’t match his bizarre, half-amused, half-something-else expression at all. Or the death grip he has on the door frame. “Great, we need to change the bed sheets.” 

You almost sputter at the choice of phrasing. Not his bed sheets, the bed sheets, like there’s only one bed in the apartment, and needing to change them implies…

Before you can clarify, because you don’t want your date getting the wrong idea, Silco turns to look at Seven, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Uh, oh. You know that look. That’s his ‘I’m going to make your life a fucking misery’ look. 

“Oh, who’s your little friend?” Silco asks, voice deceptively sweet. 

“Seven,” he responds, holding a hand out for Sil to shake, which he promptly ignores. “And you are?”

“Really, very busy right now, so if you’ll just excuse us.” Silco dismisses him, resting one hand on the small of your back as he tries to herd you through the doorway and into the flat. 

You squirm out of his grasp, annoyance levels rising until they’re practically reaching Piltover. 

“Silco, just get the stuff out the airing cupboard and I’ll be with you in a min-"

“It’s okay, baby girl, I’d best be going anyway.” Seven interrupts you, stepping even closer to you. His voice does that stuffy, flu thing again, and he acts like he’s speaking only to you, but it’s definitely loud enough for Silco to hear. “I had a great time this evening.”

“Me too.” You smile at him with tight lips, despite it being a bit of a lie. It just feels like it’s something you’re supposed to say at the end of a date. 

“I’d love to do it again sometime,” he continues, voice taking on an overly suggestive tone. “I’ll see you at the shop? We can arrange another date… maybe some late night swimming?”

You feel your face heat up at the thought, and it certainly doesn’t help that Silco is a foot away, burning a hole into the side of your skull. 

Janna, you really hope Seven doesn’t try to kiss you again in front of Sil, you think you might die of embarrassment. You pretend to scratch at your nose, subtly covering your mouth, just in case he tries again. 

“Uh, I'll see you later,” you say noncommittally. “Goodnight, Seven.”

Except, it doesn’t seem to work because he just grabs the hand covering your face and brings it up to his lips, pressing a rough kiss against your fingers. It’s an effort not to squirm. 

“Goodnight, princess,” he drawls, winking when you just stare at him.

Then, he finally notices the intense death stare Silco is sending his way, dropping your hand to shoot daggers back at your best friend before turning on his heel and sauntering down the stairs. 

With Seven gone, a weird sense of relief floods through you, but it quickly dissipates, leaving you with nothing but the urge to smack Silco round the back of his stupidly beautiful head. You don’t, though. 

Instead, you march back inside the flat, hackles raised as Silco closes the door behind you and leans back on it. He dusts his hands off with two wide sweeps up and down like the dramatic idiot he is. 

“And good riddance.”

Slowly, you turn to face him fully, carefully watching his eyes widen slightly in mild alarm. 

“What the hell was that?”

“What?” he asks, really, genuinely confused. 

You could throttle him. 

“That!” 

“I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean,” Silco replies. 

“You were so rude to him!” you explode. “And you…” 

You want to say that he implied that the two of you share a bed, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. Hell, you know your cheeks are absolutely burning at just the thought of it. (And not even just the usual things you think of when sharing a bed with someone, but even just the thought of waking up next to him, seeing him when he’s all relaxed and soft in the morning. It hurts to even picture it.)

“Yeah, well, I don’t like him.” Silco interrupts your runaway daydream. 

“Why? You don't even know him!” you protest. 

“I just don’t like the look of him.”

“Silco!" 

“What? I don’t think he’s right for you. I mean, did you hear him? I had a lovely evening, princess, why don’t we go skinny dipping for our next date, doll.” The mocking accent he puts on is far from flattering. “Ugh, what a slimeball.”

“He doesn’t even sound like that!” You don’t know why you even bother protesting, he’s clearly on a roll. 

“And what kind of a name is Seven, anyway? Do you think his parents hated him too? Do you think that’s why he’s such a prick?”

You sigh heavily. 

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, turning away from him to walk through the living room and towards your bedroom. 

Except you don’t get very far because Silco catches your hand and gently pulls you back to him, until you’re stood holding hands in the middle of the room. 

“Wait, I actually need your help making my bed,” he says, face and voice melting into something genuine (and irritatingly endearing). 

But not endearing enough after all the shit he’s been putting you through this last week. 

You pull your fingers out of his grip and slap at his hand when he tries to grab them again. 

“Get Vander to do it,” you snap, perhaps a little too harshly. 

“But he’s still at work!” He’s borderline pleading now. 

“Well, you’ll just have to sleep in dirty sheets then, won’t you?” You say, muttering a sardonic little, “Twat,” under your breath as you finally walk away. 

Predictably, Silco is in a massive sulk for a ridiculous amount of time after that.

He doesn’t even stop when you finally offer to help him change his bed sheets, watching him messily tucking the corners of the bed sheets under his threadbare mattress in silence, until you bat his hands away and show him how to do it properly (honestly, the boy is useless without you). 

By the end of the week, you decide that you just don’t understand him and probably never will. (It still doesn’t stop you from thinking about him every second of every day, though.)

-

super secret taglist: @oceansssblue @inolaphoenix @holographicgarden

[solsticescribe]

Simon Riley x reader one-shot

Simon came home from a long deployment last night. You had no idea where he was during that time or what happened, you knew you were not supposed to know anything. You were just glad that he was back and safe.

After a great struggle of getting out of his hold this morning, you started unpacking his bag that he left on the floor right in the middle of the hallway (he was too busy thinking about getting into bed with you to care about where he left his stuff).

As you took out his dirty clothes, you noticed what looked like a plastic bag on the bottom. After starting the washing machine and getting the rest of his stuff out, you took the beige package into your hands to examine it.

What you were currently holding in your hand was an MRE. You’ve seen people all over Tiktok reviewing these meals and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about what they were like. Looks like this could be your chance to find out.

As you were examining the packet, you felt two bulky arms wrap around you and a face nuzzling your neck. “Mhh morning love” You heard Simon’s voice grumbling, still heavy with sleep. “Morning. Isn’t a bit too early for you to be up? You should sleep some more” You kissed all over his face and neck where you could reach. Simon shook his head. “ ‘s not as good without you in bed” “Are you hungry by any chance? I have some breakfast ready” You pointed to the pan sitting on the stove, his favorite breakfast, that you made earlier, just waiting to be heated up.

“Maybe later” He cupped your cheeks and pressed multiple little kisses to your lips. He had his eyes closed, fully emerged in the feeling of having you close to him and finally being able to love on you properly.

“What do you want to do with that?” He asked in between kisses, referring to the bag in your hands. He still had his eyes still closed and not showing any sign that he wishes to stop with the kisses.

“Well, can I try it? If you don’t need it” You held his face in your hands, stopping him so that you would have enough time to speak. “Whatever you want sweetheart. I was planning on throwing it out. Don’t expect anything gourmet though”

He left you at the counter to unbox everything from the MRE packet while he turned on the stove to heat up his breakfast.

Simon fixed himself a plate and sat next to you, watching your expression as you tried the different snacks and meal included in the bag. He smiled to himself, thinking about just how adorable you looked, eyes lighting up when trying things you liked and furrowing when you didn’t like something.

His own meal was soon forgotten, leaning on the countertop, he watched you fumble around with the small packets with a barely noticeable smile on his face. He found this quite amusing.

Trying the last thing included, you were disappointed by the blandness of it. You put everything in the bin and sat on Simon’s lap. “I’m sorry you have to eat that so often” You said while wrapping your arms around his neck. He just hummed, one arm around your waist to hold you closer, with the other, he held up a bite from his left-over breakfast to help wash away the taste in your mouth. You eagerly took the fork in your mouth. “Wanna know why isn’t it so bad?” He asked while preparing another bite for you “I know that I get to come home to you and your cooking. Makes it all worth it to keep you safe”

[autonomousroboticorganism]

you hide attempt to hide an injury from them (TF Prime)

featuring - Optimus Prime x F!Reader, Bumblebee x F!Reader, Smokescreen x F!Reader, Knock Out x F!Reader, Wheeljack x F!Reader, Soundwave x F!Reader, Shockwave x F!Reader

summary - you play soccer and get injured, then try your best to play it off (Autobots), you get hurt on the Nemesis and try to play it off (Decepticons)

warnings - none

a/n - writing this the night before an extremely important soccer tournament my team is in, this tournament decides whether or not we go to the second highest woman's league in our country. in case anyone was wondering, one of my teammates did break her arm during one game so it's possible.

OPTIMUS PRIME - broken arm

You don't know how it happened. One minute you're making a tackle, the next you're rolling around on the ground clutching your arm. Your scream of pain alerted the referee, who promptly stopped the game so you could be rushed to the hospital. However, not wanting your big robot lover to worry, you put on a long sleeve shirt at home before going to the base so you could pretend nothing was wrong.

"(Name), why is your one arm thicker than the other?" Miko asked you, tilting her head as her eyes settled on your limp limb.

"Uh, no reason," you lied, then sighed when she gave you a look. "Okay, I broke my arm in a friendly work soccer game today. I just don't want Optimus to know. You know how he worries."

"You do know broken arms take weeks to heal right?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "How are you going to hide it for so long?"

"Hide what for so long?" The leader of the Autobots asked as he came into the room, having heard your voice. "(Name), I was just leaving to come fetch you."

"Oh, no need," you smiled, "I called for a groundbridge."

Jack and Miko exchanged looks, but it wasn't that that alerted the Prime. His gaze fell upon your arm, and though he was no expert in human biology, he definitely knew that they were supposed to be the same size.

"What happened?" He asked, approaching the platform. "What is wrong with your arm?"

As Jack and Miko gave you 'I told you so' looks, you were forced to tell him the truth about your injury, "I had a friendly soccer match today at work, a game we like to play. And I, uh, broke my arm."

The bot's optics went wide when you said that, and he gently took your broken arm into one of his servos, "Were you not going to tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry," you told him. "You have enough to worry about already."

"I will always worry about you, regardless of what other problems I am facing," he scooped you up onto his servo entirely. "Please do not hesitate to tell me, so that I can assist you in any way you need."

You smiled softly, wrapping your good arm around his one digit in a half-hug, "Thank you, love. I'll try to be more careful next time."

The Prime nodded in agreement, then proceeded to carry you around the whole day and help you with whatever you needed or wanted to do. He then let you rest on him, knowing hurt humans needed just as much downtime as hurt Autobots.

BUMBLEBEE - sprained ankle

"I can do this, I can do this..."

"Uh...(Name)?"

You glanced up at your fellow humans as they gaped at you. YOu were sure you had been doing your best to look like you were walking normally, but from the expressions on their faces you assumed you were doing a terrible job.

"What happened?"

"Nothing?" You tried with a nervous smile.

"Come on," Jack encouraged, "You're obviously limping."

You groaned, "Okay, my soccer game was a little rougher than expected. In a difficult tackle, I fell and my foot twisted awkwardly. I have a minor sprain, so I should be good in a few days."

"Do you plan to tell Bee?"

"No, he's only going to worry. Please don't tell him."

Plan Don't Tell Bumblebee fell on its face when the Autobot rolled up to the school to fetch you and Raf. Arcee and Bulkhead also came through, so Raf left you on your own and joined Miko in Bulkhead.

"Raf!" You protested.

"Sorry!" He apologised sheepishly. "I can't do it!"

Once you were sitting in the passenger seat of the scout, he beeped in concern asking what was wrong with your foot.

Your jaw dropped, "How did you-"

He responded with a few more beeps, saying that he wouldn't be a very good scout if he didn't pick up on cues or signs while observing something. You sighed and looked down.

"I...sprained my ankle. In a soccer match."

Worried beeps and whirrs followed that admission, and he started fussing over you and telling you rest when you got back to base. That he would do all your running around or get Jack or Miko to help. And that you were to see June immediately.

"Bee," you whined in complaint, "It's a minor sprain! It'll be healed in a few days, I have a good biokineticist."

He wasn't having any of that, insisting that you see June or you don't get kisses or cuddles from him. You gaped at the steering wheel.

"Bumblebee!" You gasped. "You wouldn't dare!"

He beeped, try me.

"That's so mean," you pouted. "But fine. Since my boyfriend wants to be a big bad bully."

He protested, making you laugh, but proceeded to ensure that you did what he asked at the base. And that you didn't have to walk on your foot any longer than necessary. Overkill for a baby sprain, but you didn't play with kisses and cuddles from the bot.

SMOKESCREEN - torn hamstring

It was extremely difficult to hide this one. When it happened, you screamed and cried like you'd been shot in the leg, because that's exactly what it felt like. Tearing your hamstring was no joke, it was a serious injury that really hampered your ability to walk.

"He's not going to like this," Arcee shifted her weight, uneasy.

"Please?" You begged. "He's going to scold me like I scold him."

"Well, he's not going to be back for a few hours, so maybe we can come up with a story?" Bulkhead suggested, while June was tending to your injury.

"Like what?"

"Hey guys, what are we talking about?" The bot in question popped up behind Bulkhead, but thankfully couldn't see.

"Uh, nothing!" The Wrecker steered him away. "Nurse Darby is just taking a look at Raf. He has a bad cold." Everyone stared at Bulkhead, but he pointed at a very proud-looking Miko.

"Wait, but let me greet (Name)," Smokescreen tried to push hos way through. "She came just now, didn't she?"

"She's tired!" Arcee butted in, "Had a long day at university."

"Oh..." Smokescreen deflated. "Well then, tell her I hope she's not walking on that leg she injured." He said it so nonchalantly, you all had to do a double take.

"What?!"

"(Name)," your lover sighed, "I finished my mission early. Tailed you for most of the day. You don't think I would notice?"

You groaned, "It isn't what you think-"

"I just want to make sure you're okay," he bent down to look at you closer when the others finally parted to let him through. "My girlfriend is in pain, I want to help."

You smiled up at him, "You're so sweet, Smoke. Okay, I'll stay off this leg, Nurse Darby is giving me crutches anyway."

"Oh no, I'll carry you."

"Smoke...I have lectures..."

"You're not going."

"For weeks?"

"...Okay, just for the rest of this week," he suggested. "I want to spend time with my physically impaired girlfriend."

"Hey!" You protested. "Who taught Smokescreen those words?!"

Smokescreen just laughed as he scooped you up, gently so as not to aggravate your injury, and held you close to his chassis. He observed your bruised, swollen leg, lips twisting into a frown at the sight. He didn't like seeing you hurt, especially if he couldn't have protected you from it.

"Come on you, we're going to rest and watch movies for the rest of the week." You tried to protest, but he was having none of it.

He took you to his berthroom and lay you down in a comfortable position, making sure to elevate your leg so that you could rest comfortably.

KNOCK OUT - torn MCL (a knee ligament)

The moment your cry of pain echoed through the hallways of the Nemesis, every vehicon in the vicinity froze up. The mad doctor was sure to hear of this, and they could do nothing to stop the wrath he would no doubt inflict on them for this. They hadn't mean to hurt you, but they had also been a bit rougher than they were supposed to and this fact scared them.

"Please don't tell him," one of them pleaded with you.

"Fine, but one of you needs to carry me to his lab because I'm pretty sure I hurt my knee."

You had befriended some of them, others weren't keen on you, but you knew that these ones were being honest. Decepticons in general didn't know how to handle human beings, so it came as no surprise to you that you got hurt.

But Knock Out would strap them to his lab table and open them up if he found out, so you agreed to try and keep it a secret.

The vehicon carrying you lay you down on your boyfriend's tool table, before quickly scurrying out of the room. You watched Knock Out tend to a comatose Megatron, unsure if he had even heard you come in.

"What was that about?" He asked, confirming that he had.

"Oh, uh, nothing," you dismissed it, "I just got too tired to walk back, so I asked one of the vehicons to carry me back."

This got the mad doctor's attention, "What?" His optics zeroed in on you sitting on the table, and he instantly grew suspicious. You were normally active. "Where is your pain?"

"That's so unfair!" You crossed your arms. "You know me too well."

"I'm your boyfriend, darling," he smirked, "I should. Now tell me what those idiots did to you before I go ask them myself."

"We were just playing," you assured him, "I fell, tried to land on my legs and overextended my leg. I heard a pop in my knee, and then felt excruciating pain. Now it feels like my bones are knocking around if I try to walk."

"..." The medic was not amused. "When were you planning to tell me?"

"Uh..."

"You do realise they could have hurt you worse, or even..." He shut his eyes and sighed, "Never mind. Let me see." He abandoned Megatron to come look at you, using a tool to scan your knee. "Hmmm, a ligament tear. Not a very serious one, but you'll still be on bedrest for six weeks."

"What?!"

"That's what you get for playing rough, my dear. Now come here, let me distract you from the pain."

His distraction in question was a kiss, before he researched what to do with your injury and got the necessary items to strap you up and brace your knee to stabilise it.

"No strenuous activity for six weeks, other than walking. Even then, keep it short and only when necessary."

"...Fine, Doc Knock."

"Don't call me that!"

WHEELJACK - shin splints

This one didn't kick in until a day after you'd played the game. You'd been teaching Wheeljack and Bulkhead how to play the human sport, and forgotten to properly stretch beforehand. You'd also forgotten that you hadn't played in months. So your shins were strained from overuse after months of inactivity, leaving an incredibly painful burning sensation the next day.

You tried to walk into base looking like you were fine, but your pained expression attracted attention from Bumblebee, who beeped in worry.

"Don't worry Bee, I'm fine," you smiled, but it was a tight one.

Wheeljack and Bulkhead returned from scouting an Energon mine a few moments later, the former immediately picking you up and placing you on his shoulder, missing the pain etched on your face.

"How was your day, sweetheart?" He asked you. "Got into any trouble?"

"No," you admitted, trying to sound upset about it. You also tried to appear nonchalant on his shoulder pad, but that was doing too much and ultimately outed you.

"And what might be the problem with you?" He turned his helm to study your figure. "What's hurting?"

"You don't miss a beat, do you?" You sighed.

"Not when it comes to my only reason for staying on this rock," he smirked, then held you up in his servo to be eye-level with him. "Now tell me, what happened?"

You sighed, "I kind of picked up an old injury after our session yesterday. Just shin splints, nothing serious. They're painful, but minor. They'll go away soon, they always do."

"Anything I can do to help?" He offered.

"Just maybe ask Nurse Darby for some ice, please?"

"You got it."

He set you down on the couch by the TV in the base, then went off to find June, or even Jack. He returned a few minutes later with an ice pack in his servo, and scooped you up again.

"I can press it to my shin myself, you know!" Your cheeks burned, getting flustered.

"Maybe I want to do it for you," he argued.

Your eyes went wide, and you grew even more flustered. An uncontrollable smile formed on your lips, and you lay back on his servo as he pressed the tiny bag to your shin.

"And don't hide any injury from me again, sweetheart."

SOUNDWAVE - concussion

This one was completely by accident and totally embarrassing. You were trying to find your own way up onto his berth, not wanting to bother him by calling for help. But you had made it only a few feet up the side before your foot slipped, and you fell. Your head hit the ground a little too hard, and your vision blurred for a moment. You groaned as you pushed yourself up, but your head began to throb uncontrollably.

"That's just great," you mumbled, rubbing your temples. But when you tried to stand up, you swayed on your feet and stumbled forward, unable to stay balanced. "Concussion, nice."

The Decepticon chose that moment to enter his berthroom, his helm tilting down slightly as he observed you for a moment. He already knew what had happened, he was the eyes and ears of the cons after all, so there was no point trying to hide it.

"I'm fine, Soundwave," you tried reassuring him, but you couldn't even walk to him in a straight line. "Okay, I'll BE fine soon."

He was having none of it, picking you up gently and laying you on his berth. His screeb lit up with a question mark, a silent plea to tell him why you hadn't asked him for help.

"I didn't want to bother you," you admitted, casting your gaze to the floor. "You're busy with important stuff."

He bent down in front of you, pointing at you and displaying a red heart in his visor. Meaning - you were important to him too, and he cared about your wellbeing. Then he displayed another screen, which showed tutorials on how to ask for help.

"Ha, ha. So funny," you replied dryly. "But I'm sorry, I just wanted to try and not be useless or helpless for once."

He shook his head, denying that you were any of those. Then he put his visor close to your face, and typed one word onto it: Rest. He wanted you to relax, because you had sustained a concussion.

"Alright, alright," you gave in, laying back down on his berth. You smiled, feeling warm inside at his attempts to take care of you.

And he did so quite well for a Cybertronian accused of having no feeling or emotion. He made sure to get you painkillers and water, an ice pack, and your favourite snacks. How he got them, you didn't want to know. You were just grateful for the love he was showering you with.

SHOCKWAVE - broken nose

Shockwave wasn't in the lab for once, having been ordered by Megatron to go and retrieve more predacon remains. Starscream stormed in, absolutely furious with the Decepticon scientist, and when his optics landed on you he knew the perfect way to get back at Shockwave. Which was why you now lay on the ground, listening to Starscream's laughter fade as he left, tears streaming down your face with blood streaming out of your nose. It was broken, that much you knew, but you were in too much pain to get up.

But when you heard Shockwave's familiar heavy footsteps and his voice briefing Megatron outside, you quickly sat up and wiped your blood off the floor with your shirt, then ripped a piece off and tried to stop the bleeding. You turned away from the door, hoping Megatron and Shockwave wouldn't see you.

"(Name), is everything alright?"

You nodded, "Yes, I'm okay Shockwave. Don't worry."

"So that's what Starscream was so happy about," Megatron mused. "Tend to your pet, Shockwave, and then brief me on your latest developments." With that, he left the room.

"(Name), what happened?" Shockwave asked, picking you up off the floor. "Why is there blood on your clothes and a piece of your t-shirt in your nose?"

You sighed and pulled the reddened material out, allowing blood to gush out once more as you teared up, "Starscream." Your bottom lip trembled, and the pained expression on your face told Shockwave enough, as did the sight of your misshapen nose.

"I will tend to your wounds," your boyfriend began, "And then I will see to it that Starscream be punished for this inexcusable and cowardly act."

"Thank you," you responded quietly.

He helped stop your bleeding, and bandaged your nose. Then he made sure the rest of your body was fine, before he set you down on his table.

"Wait for me here, I shall return to give you physical affection after Starscream has been dealt with."

You smiled at him and nodded, warmth filling you at how much he cared about you and how much he was willing to do for you. You relaxed in the lab while he went to deal with Starscream, and when he returned he delivered the affection he promised. Which was mostly cradling you in his servo or letting you curl up against his neck cables. Nonetheless, you were happy and soon fell asleep as the pain medication kicked in.

[bandsofmarv]

Better than him

JJ Maybank has always been in love with you, but you chose Rafe Cameron—the worst decision, in his eyes. He always watched from the sidelines that was until he reached his breaking point.

Warnings- not really any jealousy.

The night air was thick with humidity as you walked down the beach, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The argument with Rafe still echoed in your ears—his harsh words, the way he’d grabbed your arm before letting you go with a warning.

You spotted JJ sitting on the lifeguard tower, a beer in hand. He looked up as you approached, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he saw your face.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, jumping down to meet you.

“Nothing,” you muttered, brushing past him.

“Don’t give me that,” JJ said, stepping in front of you. “You’re shaking. Did he—did Rafe do something?”

You hesitated, your silence answering for you. JJ’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists.

“I can’t keep watching this,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t keep watching him hurt you.”

You sat on the sand, staring out at the dark waves. JJ paced in front of you, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by raw frustration.

“You don’t have to stay with him, you know,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t owe him anything.”

“It’s not that simple,” you said quietly.

“Yes, it is!” JJ snapped, then immediately softened his tone. “Sorry. I just… I don’t get it. Why him? Why not—”

“Why not you?” you finished for him, looking up at him.

JJ froze, his blue eyes locking with yours. He swallowed hard, then dropped to his knees in front of you.

“Yes,” he said, his voice breaking. “Why not me? I’d never hurt you. I’d never make you feel small or scared. I’d—I’d love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you shook your head. “It’s not that simple, JJ. Rafe… he’s different when it’s just us. He can be good—”

“Good doesn’t leave bruises,” JJ interrupted, his voice sharp. “Good doesn’t make you cry, doesn’t make you feel like this.”

You looked away, the truth of his words cutting deep.

“I know you think you love him,” JJ said, his tone softer now. “But love shouldn’t hurt like this. And I can’t—” He broke off, his voice trembling. “I can’t stand by and watch him destroy you. Please, just… leave him. Be with me. Let me show you what it’s supposed to feel like.”

JJ reached for your hand, his touch gentle.

“I’d do anything for you,” he said. “You know that, right?”

You nodded, tears spilling over. “I know.”

“Then trust me,” he whispered. “Trust that I can be better for you. That I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes begged you to believe him. You wanted to. God, you wanted to. But leaving Rafe felt impossible—like trying to escape a storm that followed you everywhere.

“I don’t know how,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

JJ cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “You don’t have to know. Just take my hand, and we’ll figure it out together.”

For a moment, you let yourself imagine it—a life with JJ, free from Rafe’s shadow. It felt like breathing for the first time in years.

“I have to go,” you said, pulling away from JJ.

“No,” he said, standing as you did. “Don’t go back to him. Please.”

“I don’t have a choice,” you said, your voice trembling.

“You always have a choice,” JJ said, desperation lacing his words. “Choose me. Please, just once… choose me.”

You hesitated, your heart caught between the life you knew and the life you wanted.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, turning away.

JJ watched you go, his heart breaking as the waves swallowed the sound of your footsteps.

———————————————————————

Later that night

You sat in Rafe’s car, his hand gripping your thigh as he drove. His apologies came in waves—sweet words meant to soothe the wounds he’d inflicted.

But all you could think about was JJ—the way he’d looked at you, like you were worth saving and for the first time, you wondered if he might be right.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Safety Net

See Me Through You Series

I've never been this scared before

Feelings I just can't ignore

Don't know if I should fight or fly

But I don't mind

Synopsis: Falling for someone else while you were still in a committed relationship was not supposed to be in the cards for you

Series Masterlist

A sigh left your mouth as you looked down at your phone and you rolled your eyes when you saw it was none other than your boyfriend Trevor. It had damn near fell off the table from the vibration and you watched it until it stopped ringing.

It had to be the tenth time that he called you today and it was the tenth time that you had ignored him. It seemed as if you and your boyfriend were arguing more than usual and it was honestly the last thing you wanted to deal with. There seemed to be a shift when you had gotten accepted to LSU and you applied there to be near him since he was a year older than you and you honestly had no clue what his problem was. He asked you specifically to do it and you were all for it. If you knew then how it would be, you probably would have applied elsewhere.

Any time you tried asking him about how he was feeling or if something was wrong since it seemed like there was, all you got was an attitude in return. He would pick fights for no reason, you would get upset and not talk to him while he went on to beg for your forgiveness when it was all said and done. The latest fight had been about how you wanted to stay in and have a study date instead of going out for date night when he knew that you had a test the next day that was a big percentage of your grade seeing as there weren't a lot of assignments to begin with for that particular class. Of course he told you no, and you left it at that.

Being your first semester, you had taken on a lot more than you could handle and you were now feeling the effects seeing as you were about a month and a half in. Last night you went to one of LSU's home football games because not only did Ja'Marr beg you to come, but Joe did also and was out until damn near four in the morning.

You could tell that he was getting more comfortable being a starter and they had been playing amazing. It was now Sunday night and you were trying to make up for lost time when your phone vibrated once again at your desk. Except, an instant smile came upon your face when you saw who it was and quickly answered.

“Joey…”

“Princess, why haven't I seen you yet? I thought you were coming tonight.” He asked you without giving a proper greeting. You could hear a bunch of commotion in the background and you simply assumed he was at another party.

Ever since the two of you met that first day in the gym, the nickname princess had stuck.

“Uh? Coming where? I was literally out with you, Ja'Marr and Justin until FOUR in the morning. I was UNWELL. I couldn't even see anymore by the time I got home.” You expressed and all you heard was his laugh. In your head you imagined that he was probably shaking his head too.

“Couldn't see anymore? Really? Now that's dramatic, even for you.”

“Excuse me!? Look, all I know is my eyes were red and my contacts were dry as hell and the THREE OF YOU kidnapped me.”

“Well I'm about to kidnap you again. At least for a few hours.”

“I have another EXAM to study for, sir. You got to have me all last night.” You told him as you had taken out your highlighters from your pencil case and set them on your desk.

“And? I want to have you all night again. But I promise not to have you out that late.” Joe told you and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

At this rate, Joe spent more time with you than your actual boyfriend and actually wanted you to be around him. He was always down to have a study session with you unlike Trevor.

“Hmm, what time did you plan on having me out until?”

“Three give or take.”

“JOEY that is literally only a one hour difference!” You exclaimed as you shook your head in disbelief.

“You don't take your exam until later in the week! I've helped you study and you're going to be fine. Come on, I want to see you. I forgot what you looked like and I need a reminder to be in person.”

“You are such a hot ass mess and you have been around my brother too long because that sounds like exactly something he would say. Take a picture next time.”

“I could take one tonight if you let me see that pretty face of yours.”

With a deep sigh and a groan escaping your lips, you finally gave in.

“I'm ignoring that last part.”

“Why? I called you pretty and it's a compliment.” Joe asked, suddenly confused.

“And I'm not single, which you already knew.”

“Hmm, at least not yet. But I'll patiently wait my turn.”

You were glad that it wasn't a facetime call because your jaw had literally dropped and it took you a second to close your mouth.

It was quiet for a few seconds and Joe had to make sure that you didn't hang up.

“Princess, you still there?” Joe asked and the music in the background distracted you for a second.

“Just text me the address.”

“Can't wait to see you, gorgeous. Text me when you're outside.”

As soon as you hung up, Joe sent you the address and then you went to ransack your closet to find something to wear. Looking through your closet, not only was your mind racing, but your heart was too.

Joe had a crush on you, that much was obvious but the last thing you wanted to happen was for it to suddenly be awkward between the two of you. Why did you suddenly get butterflies when he's around, but when it comes to Trevor you felt absolutely nothing? You were nervous that it would get to the point that you would make an absolute fool out of yourself in front of him. But at the same, why should you care? You had a boyfriend.

The more you kept thinking about it, the more you were probably going to hurt your brain so you put your focus solely on searching for an outfit. In the back of your closet, you found a short black dress staring back at you. It was already known that you had the perfect shoes to go with it, so the answer that you came to was yes almost immediately.

After taking a quick shower and straightening your hair, the dress was slipped on along with the shoes. You did a once over in your floor length mirror that you had gotten from IKEA and nodded to your reflection in approval. Looking at your phone, you saw that it was close to ten at night and the goal was to get there as soon as possible in order to be able to get back as soon as possible.

The drive was a short one and once you pulled up, you saw multiple people hanging out outside including someone who was shitfaced on the front lawn of whoever's house it was. Shaking your head to yourself, you quickly pulled out your phone and sent a text to Joe in order to let him know that you were here.

Less than three minutes later, you saw him come out of the front door and take the steps two at a time to make his way to your car. Getting out, you closed your door and made sure to lock it before turning to face him as he had come up to you from behind.

“Hey, I'm here just like I promised. Since you know that you forgot what I looked like and wanted to see me in person.” You told him while rolling your eyes he smirked.

“Nothing changed from last time. Still as gorgeous as I remember.” He responded as the two of you started walking towards the front door.

“You literally just saw me last night and I don't have any idea what I'm going to do with you.”

“I could think of a few things I want to do with you. Just let me know when you're ready to find out.” He whispered and you simply shook your head.

Once the two of you crossed the threshold, his hand was on the small of your back as he guided you through the swarm of bodies and soon made your way to the kitchen where Justin and Ja'Marr were in the middle of an intense game of beer pong.

“About time you showed up, big sis. Tell the little bro that he is about to get his ass kicked.” Justin told you as it was Ja'Marr’s turn who looked at Justin to suck his teeth.

“I am not! How is that possible when I’m definitely winning right now?!” Ja’Marr asked as rolled his eyes.

“I just don’t see how the three of you have so much energy.” You said as you looked at all three of them.

“Yesterday we were pregaming.”

“Justin?! Pregaming?!?! We were out for hours!” You exclaimed as he looked at you and shrugged.

“You made it back home in one piece, didn’t you?”

“Of course she did because Joe wouldn’t let her out of his sight.” Justin quietly said but you could see Joe turn a slight shade of red while Ja’Marr smiled.

Since Joe and Ja’Marr had grown closer in the almost three months that he had been down here, Ja’Marr knew for a fact that Joe liked you and had been infatuated with you ever since he introduced the two of you to one another. He had his suspicions that you liked him back, but he wasn't so sure.

He would try to do everything that he possibly could to get you away from Trevor.

Joe had walked away from the three of you for a minute and when he returned he handed you a red solo cup. Before holding it up to your lips, you looked inside of it to inspect what it was. You could count on one hand the times that you had gotten drunk and rode it out at Erin’s house with her older sister giving you both IV fluids to help recover.

“What’s this?” You asked as you smelled it. It wasn’t a strong scent that would knock you off your feet and it gave you the vibe of it possibly being fruity.

“Your drink that I got you.” Joe said as he took a sip of whatever was in his cup.

“I was always told not to accept drinks from strangers or accept a drink that I didn’t go and get myself.” You told him as you looked back up at him.

“Well, it’s a good thing that I’m not a stranger right? And you honestly think that anyone would be stupid enough to try something with your brother standing right there?” He asked you as you gave him a look of approval.

“I guess you’re right, now what is it?”

“Just taste it, but if it will make you feel better, you can taste mine first. I promise that it’s the exact same thing.”

Without a second thought, you grabbed Joe’s cup and took a small sip. Just as you suspected, it was fruity and had a light taste that wasn’t overwhelming.

Seeing that you approved, he handed your cup to you and as you took another small sip, as promised it was the exact same thing.

“Good choice, Burrow.”

“I figured that you would like it and didn’t want any of the harder options that they have over there.”

“Y/N, you playing?” Justin asked and you gave him a small smile.

“Sure, but only if Joe plays against me.” You answered as you poked Joe’s side making him smirk.

“And here her competitive ass goes. We about to be over here for the rest of the night.” Ja’Marr muttered as he got some chips out of a large bowl and threw them into his mouth.

“I can take her, let’s get to it princess.”

“Famous last words, Burrow.”

After many rounds of beer pong later and mingling with other people, you were making your rounds with a few familiar faces in the living room, when you had suddenly spotted no one other than your boyfriend who looked to be drunk off his ass coming through the front door and sighed.

“Shit.” You quietly said and tried to look for an exit, but came up short. Before you could even make your way into the kitchen, he had spotted you and was moving towards the direction that you were in.

“So, you can’t answer my calls, but come to a party instead?” He asked as he towered over you.

“You pissed me off and I didn’t want to talk to you, simple. So yes, I can dodge your calls whenever I fucking feel like it and come to a party instead. Move out of my way because I still don’t want to talk to you.” You replied and attempted to move around him, but instead he caught your arm and pulled you back.

“I’m not finished fucking talking to you and the last thing you’re about to do is walk away from me.”

“I can and I will and you need to get your fucking hands off me before I get my brother who will beat your ass. I still don’t want to talk to you so move along. You’re clearly drunk and we will have this conversation when you’re sober.”

One thing that you were not going to do was let him intimidate you. You might be small, but you still stood your ground and let him know that you would be tolerating any form of disrespect coming from him or anyone else.

“Who the hell are you talking to like that?” He asked as his grip on your wrist tightened at the same time you were trying to get away from him.

You were trying to look around for Ja’Marr, Justin, or Joe but was coming up short until you heard Joe’s voice from behind Trevor.

“Is there a problem over here? Y/N, you okay?” He asked as he stood on the side of both of you and looked Trevor up and down.

“We’re fine, mind your own damn business. This is between me and my girlfriend.”

“I believe that I was talking to her and not to you. I don’t give a damn if you’re her boyfriend or not. What you aren’t going to do is disrespect her in front of me. You can first start by getting your hand off of her damn wrist because you’re hurting her and it’s turning red.”

“Who the fuck is this guy? Y/N, you fucking him instead of me?” He asked the first question to no one in particular, but the second one was obviously directed at you.

“Trevor, quit it. Just leave. I already said that I wasn’t going to talk to you.”

“Nah, because he thinks he can come over here and get in my business when it has nothing to do with him.” He told you as he turned to keep his eyes on Joe.

Suddenly the room had gone quiet and all eyes were on the three of you as he began to raise his voice.

“Just leave and we’ll talk later.” You told him as you wanted for this night to be over since your mood was now ruined.

You knew that you should have stayed home.

“Not until pretty boy hear learns a fucking lesson.”

Next thing you knew, Trevor shoved Joe who barely moved one inch and you went to stand in between them.

You saw Joe’s jaw clench and knew for a fact that this was going to end badly unless you did something and did something now.

“Joey, no. And Trevor do not fucking put your hands on him.”

“So, you’re defending him instead of me?”

“Yes, because you are being a straight up asshole. Why the hell are you pushing people?”

The next thing you knew it seemed like everything was happening in slow motion, Trevor raised his fist and got ready to punch Joe who dodged it, but Joe made sure to push you out of the way first so that you didn’t get hit. Ja’Marr and Justin came running over to where all of you were standing and caught Joe’s fist as it was about to connect to Trevor’s jaw.

“Joe, chill. It’s not worth it as much as I want to let you go and beat his ass.” Ja’Marr told him as he was holding Joe and Justin was holding back Trevor.

“Y/N, go and get in my car.” Trevor said and you looked at him like he was crazy.

“I think the fuck not. My sister is not going anywhere with you. What you can do is take your ass on out that front door before I let him go and all three of us are kicking your ass, your choice.” Ja’Marr told him as Joe was still struggling to get out of his grasp making him have to hold tighter.

Trevor then held his hands up in defense and began to slowly walk away towards the front door finally giving up on the thought that you were going to leave with him. Once he was finally out the door, Ja’Marr released his hold on Joe and turned to look at you.

“Pebbles, I wish you would fucking break up with him. Do you not see what the fuck he just did? What if we hadn’t been here, huh?! Do you know what could have happened?!” Ja’Marr started but Joe quickly intervened when he saw tears forming in your eyes.

“Not now man, important thing is that she’s okay. You are okay aren’t you? Let me see your wrist.”

You held out your right arm so Joe could look at it and there was a red indentation from where his hand had been.

“Come on, let’s get you some ice from the freezer.”

As you nodded your head, Joe guided you into the kitchen and you were caught off guard as he placed you onto the counter as he rummaged through the freezer and got a small ziploc bag to put the ice in. When he was finished, he walked back over to you and stood in between your legs as he placed the ice on your wrist which led to you letting a hiss escape from your lips.

“Seriously, princess. Are you okay?” Joe softly asked you and you nodded your head.

“I just… I’ve never seen him get like that before and I was scared. He has never put his hands on me or yelled at me like that.”

“I’m just glad we were all here with you.”

“Me too.” You quietly said as Joe brushed a piece of hair out of your face and smiled at you.

It was quiet for a few minutes as Joe tended to your wrist before he looked back up at you.

“You ready to leave? I can come with you.”

“Yeah, I think that it’s probably best at this point.”

Ja’Marr came into the kitchen and made his way over to you as he gave you a hug from the side since Joe was in front of you and kissed the top of your head.

“I yell because I love you and never want anything to happen to you. You’re the only twin I got.” He told you as he pinched your cheek which made you smile.

“I know, I love you too, Bam Bam.”

“I was going to take her home. I’ll text you when she’s safe.” Joe told him, with him nodding in approval.

“Sure thing.”

It had gotten a little colder outside and made sure to walk as fast as possible to your car since the heels you were wearing probably wouldn’t allow you to run. When you were about to get into the driver’s seat, Joe stopped you.

“Let me drive, I know your wrist is still hurting.”

Unlocking your car and not putting up a fight, you walked over to the passenger side and slid in as Joe held the door open for you.

The two of you were now driving through Baton Rouge, as your head laid against the glass and Joe noticed the small circles you were massaging onto your wrist.

“Make sure you take some motrin or something to help your wrist. You don’t have practice tomorrow do you?”

“No, but we have it on Tuesday and then a competition on Saturday. I just hope it’s okay by then.”

“It should be. Just keep stretching it and taking something for it. And more ice will help too.”

“I will. Actually can we make a stop really fast?” You asked and of course Joe nodded.

“Of course and besides, it’s your car that I’m driving.” He responded while laughing.

“Good point. Make a left at the next light and then a right.”

Joe followed directions and was now on a dimly lit street.

“Where are we going?”

“When I get sad, I eat ice cream or get a milkshake at this twenty four hour spot I discovered.”

“Not you holding out on me.” Joe teased as you shook your head.

“I would have taken you eventually. But when I’m around you I’m always happy so there was no need for it.” You quietly said as Joe tried to hide the smile that was forming on his face.

“And that’s how it will always be when I’m around you.”

A few minutes later, Joe saw the sign for the ice cream shop that you had pointed out and quickly parallel parked on the street before the two of you got out to head inside. Joe once again opened the door for you and helped you up the steps to the entrance.

Looking at you now scanning the menu, Joe couldn’t help himself but to take in your appearance for the night. The black dress you were wearing was hugging your curves just right and the shoes you had on was a perfect compliment to it. He was pulled from his thoughts as he heard you call his name.

“Joey, what are you getting?” You asked as you looked over at him.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Did you decide what you wanted yet? I’ll pay, it’s my treat.”

“Probably an oreo milkshake and you don’t have to pay for it.” You told him as you shook your head.

“Then lets make that two and I’m going to because I said so.”

You knew you smiling at him was more than enough to thank him as he placed both of your orders and paid. The two of you stood to the side and Joe noticed that you were hugging yourself and assumed that you were cold.

Without even asking you, he took off his hoodie and told you to hold your arms up.

“But I don’t want you to be cold.”

“You need it more than I do, arms up.”

You finally gave in and held your arms up as he quickly pulled it over your head and took out your hair from the back and pulled it down in the front.

“Better?”

“Better.”

When Joe had turned away from you to get both of your milkshakes, you took in the scent of his hoodie and it happened to be one of your favorite scents that he would wear. You put it in the back of your mind that you were not giving him this hoodie back any time soon.

He handed you your drink and he walked in front of you in order to be able to open the door and help you down the steps. As the two of you got settled in your car and he started to drive when he broke the silence.

“Y/N…”

“Hmm?” You asked as you were sipping on your milkshake.

“I’m saying this as someone who cares about you so please don’t take any of this the wrong way.”

“I know what you’re about to say, just like everyone else. I need to break up with him.”

“Then why don’t you do it? I mean I’m to the point where I wouldn’t want you to be alone with him because of what I saw tonight.”

“In some weird twisted way I do love him and he means well. He was not like that when we first got together and I honestly think that he’s going through something and he either doesn’t want to tell me or…”

“Y/N, stop making excuses for him. Even if he is going through something he has no reason to act like that towards you, drunk or not. What would have happened if the two of you were by yourselves?”

“I….”

“I just want to be sure you’re safe. At the end of the day, I’m not telling you what to do because you’re an adult but…. Take it how you want it.” Joe said, being completely honest as he turned into your apartment complex parking lot.

When you were quiet, he spoke up again.

“I would want nothing more for someone else to be able to show you how you should be treated.”

“Joey…”

“Y/N, I know you like me, and I like you. I’ve made that obvious time and time again. You literally spend more time with me than your actual boyfriend, and you even just told me yourself less than thirty minutes ago how happy you always are around me. Why don’t you just let me in? What are you afraid of?”

[iz-star]

About Zayne's nightmares...

The most unrealistic thing about Zayne is that he's a functional working adult that seemingly has put his life together at 27 not because he's young or a prodigy but because he's said to have nightmares since he was 12?? Like... I feel like this theme might be a bit overlooked but just think about it deeply, having constant nightmares fucks your mind like really REALLY bad, I can genuinely say this by experience and also as someone who has had trouble to have a healthy sleeping schedule since I was at highschool (like, for example, right now, I should be sleeping instead of writing this...).

There was a time I would have nightmares almost everytime I went to sleep during a really hard time in my life. Of course, the topic about those nightmares was almost always the same, not like the nightmares repeated themselves but they always revolved about the same things that I was actually working in therapy at the moment. Back then I was jobless and medicated most part of the time, I was pretty dysfunctional.

I suppose that's why when I listened to "Fragmented Dreams" for the first time it was the time I said "Yeah, this is my man". I love how he's always nagging MC about sleeping early because I know by experience that not sleeping properly can mess up with your mind pretty bad, and probably he knows it too. It truly is a showcase of love how he worries about her sleep like that and it also showcases how strong minded he is for enduring too much stress and remind kind constantly.

I love how healthy he is. I like to think that he's overcome all the stressful stuff he's gone thru bc of his discipline and healthy life style, but realistically it would take him some more to deal with all of that.

Yes, all of the guys have been through some very rough stuff and they all need therapy, but my point with Zayne comes with the fact that not having a good sleeping schedule and on top of that having constant nightmares can mess up with your perception of reality and induce you a bad depression or other mental health issues. Everytime I remember Zayne's main story branch when they're trapped in Zayne's dream and MC leaves him alone and he starts listening to Willian, Georgie and his Mom so he has to remind himself "It's not real, it's not real" I deeply feel that and I just want to hug him so bad :(

I think I'd like to see a card where they explore the consecuences of their past in their psyche more deeply. I can't help remembering this post which was one of the first posts you unlock with Zayne:

It was there when I just knew that even if he looked quiet, he had a lot to say but didn't know how to express.

Another thing I'd like to highlight about this is that actually I love the emotional maturity that Zayne displays about dealing with such issues like nightmares, traumatic experiences and literally being exposed to see people dying 24/7 while being someone that feels a lot yet says little. He's dealt with this the best way he can, no wonder why he came to be quite serious and inexpressive or sarcastic. Not allowing himself to express other emotions than seriousness or sarcasm was like keeping himself in check so he wouldn't spill everything he feels and considering how stressing is his job already, it just makes sense, but that didn't mean Zayne didn't feel because he feels too much and too deeply and worries sick about ppl and especially about MC.

Of course, bottling up his emotions wasn't the best way to deal with them but he never used any unhealthy coping mechanism neither, like alcohol, for example (My teetotaler King ❤️) etc. Yeah, his workaholism isn't exactly healthy but not something toxic to his mind and relationships, and I've always had a feeling that he's a big foodie and addicted to sweets to give himself that boost of serotonine he needs so bad.

That's why he compares MC with sweets, being her his favorite dessert, bc she's brought all that serotonine to his life naturally and has helped him let go little by little. When he opened to her about losing Dulcie, I had a feeling that Zayne always wanted someone to listen to him but he didn't know how to ask for it and ppl around him was too afraid to even dare to suggest it. I think even in one of his anecdotes, it is said that sometimes Dr Noah wanted to tell him something but at the end ended up saying nothing.

The fact that Zayne bottled up his emotions didn't mean that he wouldn't willingly share them, he wanted to but wasn't used to it. With MC, he's slowy started to let it go and enjoy life more, allowing himself to be sad in front of her, to express his fears (about losing her) or to express his childish tantrums and indulge in his softest side. That's why also she's not only his favorite dessert but also his best painkiller ❤️

And just to finish, I've always thought this quote by Kafka fits him so well:

"Remember, you should sleep more than other people, for I sleep less than most. And I can’t think of a better place to store my unused share of universal sleep than in your beloved eyes."

[doumadono]

Hello, I'd like to make an EMERGENCY REQUEST if that's okay with you, if the following content is something you struggle with then it's okay, just delete this.

Tw Emetophobia

So, I just threw up and I'm not feeling too well, so I'd like to ask for an Keigo Takami x reader who did the same things and him basically comforting reader, and how he'd handle the situation.

I hope you have a great day/night <3

Feathered Solace - Hawks x Reader

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

It was supposed to be an ordinary day at the agency - reports to file, meetings to attend, and the usual flurry of activities that defined the life of a hero. But nothing about today was ordinary, not with the way your head spun and your stomach churned uneasily. You had insisted on coming to work despite feeling unwell, motivated by a strong sense of duty and a reluctance to let anyone down, especially Keigo Takami - your partner both in the field and in life.

The agency was buzzing with activity, the staff navigating around the sprawling open office space, which was adorned with sleek, modern designs and glass walls that gave an illusion of openness. You were seated at your workstation, trying to focus on the screen in front of you, but the text blurred, and your fingers trembled slightly over the keyboard.

"You're looking a bit pale there," a familiar voice commented, warm and tinged with concern.

You looked up to see Keigo standing beside you, his golden eyes scanning your face for signs of just how bad you felt. "I'm okay," you replied, mustering a weak smile, though the effort made your stomach lurch ominously.

Keigo frowned, not convinced. "You don't look okay to me. Come on, let's get you somewhere you can lie down for a bit." Without waiting for your protest, he gently took your arm, guiding you towards the infirmary located within the agency - a small, well-equipped room reserved for emergencies.

The coolness of the infirmary was a stark contrast to the warmth of the main office, and the quiet was immediate and soothing. Keigo helped you onto the cot before turning to a cabinet to pull out a cool, damp cloth and a bottle of water.

"Here, this should help," he said as he handed you the cloth to press against your forehead. His touch was gentle, his presence reassuring in the sterile room that echoed too much of your discomfort.

As you lay back, trying to steady your breathing, Keigo pulled up a chair beside the cot, his expression softening. "You know, I'm supposed to take care of you," he murmured, taking your hand in his. "Not just out there against villains, but in here, when you're fighting against something like this."

You chuckled weakly, squeezing his hand. "I know, I just didn't want to worry you or be a burden."

"A burden?" Keigo’s voice was gentle but firm. "Never that. We’re partners, remember? In every sense of the word."

Just then, a sudden wave of nausea overcame you, and Keigo was instantly on his feet, supporting you as you leaned over a bin he had ready just in case. It was a humiliating moment, one you wished you could hide from him, but Keigo was unphased, his care unwavering as he held your hair back and rubbed soothing circles on your back.

Once the worst had passed, he helped you lie back down, his brow furrowed with worry. "Okay, that's it. I'm calling the doctor to check on you, and I'm canceling my afternoon appointments. You’re my priority now."

"But the agency, your responsibilities..." you protested feebly.

Keigo shook his head, his eyes locking with yours. "My most important responsibility is right here. Besides," he added with a smile, "I think the team can handle one afternoon without me hovering over them."

True to his word, Keigo stayed by your side, monitoring your condition and making sure you stayed hydrated. When the agency's doctor arrived, a quick examination and a few questions later, it was confirmed to be a nasty case of food poisoning.

Prescriptions were given, advice was shared, and through it all, Keigo never left your side.

As the day faded into evening and the bustling noises of the agency dimmed, Keigo’s presence was a constant source of comfort. He spoke softly, recounting silly anecdotes from his missions, making you smile despite the discomfort. And when you finally felt strong enough to stand, Keigo was there, steady and strong, ready to take you home.

"Let’s get you home, love," he said, his voice soft. "I’ll take care of everything."

In the world of heroes and villains, sometimes the greatest battles were fought in the silence of an infirmary, with nothing but tender care as your shield.

As you leaned against him, ready to face the journey home, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would never face them alone.

[kayr0ss]

Phishing Attack [Sulemio Fanfic]

[Gundam: The Witch from Mercury / GWitch, Sulemio, Fluff & Humor, post-canon, married, miorine is down bad, lmfao, self-inudlgent office shenanigans] AO3 Link

Summary: Unfortunately for her, Miorine falls for the IT department's phishing attack test email and has to go through GUND-ARM, Inc's mandatory security training. Fortunately for her, it seems her wife, of all people, was the one teaching it.

-

"Uhm—"

This poor kid. Miorine was going to have a talk with Nuno about this, because there was absolutely no reason for him to send the newest tech support hire to her office for something he could have emailed her about. She wonders if he and Ojelo placed a bet on whether or not he would do it. That wouldn't do. She'd have to give them an earful after all this.

Or, even better, she'd tell Lilique. No one liked to get on Lilique's bad side.

"Is everything okay?" She crossed her arms, trying to school her expression into something... nicer? It didn't look like it was working, because he visibly gulped.

"P—President! I'm here because you—uh. Email."

"Email?"

He looked down towards his feet, his voice barely over a whisper. "...test email that IT had sent out."

Miorine pinched the bridge of her nose, doing her best to even out her breathing. "Hey. It's okay, I don't bite. I can barely hear you."

"You clicked on a phishing test email! That—that IT sent out. Kargan-san told me, to tell you, that you have to attend mandatory training or else your email access was going to get revoked."

She frowned, eyes flitting to her laptop, unable to keep an incredulous huff at bay. Phishing email? She was usually really careful about this, when did she even—she paused.

She remembers now. Last night, while working late from home, she received an email from what she thought was a travel agency. She had been looking into booking a vacation for their family, and wanted to sign up for their newsletter and so she—oh. She clicked a link.

She sighed, deep and weary, leaning forward on her desk. "Thank you," she waved at the young man. "I'll go talk to Nuno."

He sighed in relief, said his greetings, and left.

-

"He looked terrified! Why would you do that?" She growled across the lunch table towards Nuno, who was holding up his tray in defense. "You could have told me yourself!"

"But how was he supposed to learn? Besides, it's a good time to work on rapport-building, for you!"

"That doesn’t make any sense." She slammed down her coffee mug, visibly irritated. "And also totally targeted. You knew that I was planning a vacation for us."

"What, did you think phishing attacks were just randomly cast nets? These things have gotten more sophisticated! Especially for C-suite individuals like you. Do you know what kind of cybersecurity liability it would have been if your email got compromised?"

"I know that!" Miorine groaned in frustration. "Fine, I'll do the training. But really? Revoking my email access?"

"Hey—you signed off on the ops manual yourself!"

"You have to set an example for following the rules, Miorine-san." Aliya laughed.

And she was right. And Miorine hated it. But she always resented authority who didn't play fair, so she was going to do her best to set a good example. She went back to eating, stabbing at her potato wedges with unnecessary force, making Nuno and Ojelo grimace with each stab.

"By the way," he elbowed Ojelo, who was dejectedly playing with his salad. "You owe me. I told you she'd fall for it."

"You two are impossible!"

-

"There's no way they got you too." Miorine deadpanned, looking at the only other person seated in the conference room. It had several long tables, arranged in a U-configuration, and had high-backed leather office chairs that rolled themselves back to place when you clapped. She thought it was a bit much, but... Nika liked over-engineering things, so here they were.

Nika smiled sheepishly. "They sent me an email for a parts sale. I clicked the link without thinking too much."

"A sale?" Miorine almost laughed. "Nika, your department has the highest budget."

"No, not for work—it was uhm. For mobile suit figures?" She twiddled her thumbs. "The little models I like to build?"

Miorine couldn't even be upset. She actually laughed this time (“They were full mechanics! I couldn’t resist!”). Everyone had their weaknesses, it seemed.

"So this is the training video we made for all the new hires, and whoever else needs it." Ojelo was setting the screen up. "It's about an hour long—"

"An hour?" Miorine slammed her palms on the desk.

"Yes, an hour!" He barked back, crossing his arms. "Obviously, since you two are here—our literal president and the person who designs all our prototypes—we need it! I can hardly think of two worse people to fail this test."

Miorine sighed, covering her face with her hands, because he was right.

"Let's just get this over and done with."

The holo-screen flickered to life, Ojelo waved them goodbye, and then Miorine's jaw dropped because—

[Hello there, GUND-ARM, Inc.!]

She knew that voice. It was only the title screen, without showing the speaker, but she knew. 

Then the video feed finally came on, and she swallowed: it was Suletta. She was smiling sweetly at the viewer, wearing a business suit that had GUND-ARM, Inc's pin on the blazer’s lapel. She felt the air rush out her lungs, and jolted upright from her seat.

[Welcome to the first module of Cybersecurity 101! My name is Suletta Mercury-Rembran, and I—]

Miorine felt her mouth dry up because why?

She whipped her head towards Nika. "Why is my wife teaching the cybersecurity training?!"

She briefly remembers Suletta mentioning something about getting filmed for a GUND-ARM, Inc. video. It was quite a while ago, and Miorine figured it was just another marketing campaign, but she didn't realize that it might have also been this.

"I mean," Nika shrugged. "She is a literal teacher. I imagine out of all of us she's the most qualified to conduct a training."

Which. Okay. Fair—it made sense! But still—why?

Miorine ran her hand through her hair, grounding herself. Why did she look so good even on screen? Who's idea was it? Did she want to thank them or throttle them? 

Why on this ridiculous Earth was she so goddamn attractive?

(A rhetorical question, for sure: she knew with absolute certainty that that was simply a truth of this world.)

[Let's start with the basics: What exactly is a phishing attack?]

-

[14:47 SEST] Nika : It kind of feels like I should leave T_T

[14:47 SEST] Ojelo: lmaooooooooooo

[14:49 SEST] Nika: please let me leave

[14:53 SEST] Nuno: I'm sorry but u are also literally a security risk until u learn this so u can't

[14:54 SEST] Nika: fml

-

It was almost impossible to listen, but also impossible to look away. Miorine put an honest effort into taking down notes, into remembering the tell-tale signs of a fake domain name and the most common typing mistakes made in phishing emails. They even had little quizzes in between that they had to take on their phone before moving onto the next section. Apparently, failing those meant having to take the training again and... and, well, that was both pleasant and terribly embarrassing.

At the halfway point, Miorine had crossed her arms, flushed deeply, and sighed.

"You okay, Miorine-san?" Nika poked her on the shoulder.

Suletta had just flashed another charming smile on screen, congratulating the viewer for finishing this section.

"She's so—" Miorine slowly tipped over, leaning forward, and planted her face on the table, muttering. "—pretty."

-

[Don't forget! Urgent language and unsecured links are really good tells! Are you feeling ready for your next test? Once again, please check your company phone's training app, and—]

Miorine pulled out her phone. She was so ready for this quiz. She had been locked in and could probably recite company policy backwards at this point.

Nika, for the fifteenth time within the past forty-five minutes, tried not to keel over laughing.

-

[Still there?]

Sang Suletta's sweet, whimsical voice.

[Thanks for sticking with it! Good job, we're almost through! You're doing great!]

Miorine had nearly snapped her stylus in half, blushing, but she powered on in the name of professionalism and—spite. For Nuno and Ojelo, of course. Not Suletta.

She checked her watch. They weren't kidding about it taking no less than an hour. She leaned back into her chair, unable to deny the fact that it was nice to take a short break from paperwork and checking spreadsheets all afternoon.

-

She had bolted out the room as soon as the training was done.

"Leaving in a hurry?" Sabina caught her haphazardly stuffing all her things into her leather folio.

"Yes."

It was a Thursday, which meant Suletta didn't have an afternoon class to teach, which meant she was already home by now.

"I'll call for the car, then." She hummed.

"Thank you."

Miorine almost forgot her keys, fishing them out her drawer before grabbing her coat off the back of her chair. It was probably windy, but she was in too much of a hurry to bother putting it on, instead bundling it in her arms with her folio.

-

Suletta was surprised to hear the jingle of Miorine's keys so early in the afternoon. 

She looked up from the book she was reading, happy to see the front door swing open. She carefully got up, a smile on her face.

"Miorine! You're home early—" she stopped in her tracks. "You look mad. Why do you look mad?"

And—in the most confusing three seconds of her life—Miorine had pulled her in by the collar, gotten up to her tip-toes, and kissed her. 

Honest to god kissed her.

"Whoa," she mumbled against Miorine's lips in a daze. She leaned forward a little, settling her free hand on Miorine's waist, bending down so that her wife didn't have to struggle reaching her.

Finally pulling back, Suletta gave her a hesitant smile. "I missed you too?"

"I clicked a stupid phishing email."

What? Suletta blinked, stupefied, wondering what that had to do with the fact that Miorine was shrugging her coat off and kissing her—again.

"An—" she took a breath "—email?"

"Yeah." Miorine pushed them towards the hallway, and Suletta awkwardly stumbled along with her. "How are you so—so—"

"Eh?” Suletta’s brows furrowed. “Me? What do you mean?"

“So…” Miorine had a frown and the prettiest blush Suletta had ever seen. "Beautiful. In the training video."

There was an almost-audible click in Suletta's head. 

She finally put two and two together. 

"Oh!" She gasped. "Oh no, they made you watch the training video?" She laughed. "That must have been funny. I was so embarrassed filming it!"

"I think you did great." Miorine was still pushing her, having kicked off her shoes now.  She fished the book out of Suletta's hand ("Hey!") and placed it on the nearest table. "But I might have already forgotten the whole thing."

Miorine hastily felt for the door knob to their bedroom, swinging it open and pulling Suletta in by her shirt.

"Miorine!"

"You should remind me again."

-

fin

-

A/N:

Thank you to @saltypyrotato for once again beta reading this! You're the best broski! This is basically some self-indulgent office shenanigans that I can't help but imagine would happen lmaoooo

[hybbart]

This is perhaps a strange question, but do you have the sketch/lineart/framework/whatever the heck it's called that you use when you draw Tango? I decided I want to learn to draw, and my thought process was, "Ah yes, the easiest way is to try and copy my favourite Tangos cause I know how they look," and it is going... poorly xD.

Alternatively, do you have any advice on how to learn and develop a style, or how to get/keep going?

A reference sheet? I have a couple various ones, though at this point i don't really use a reference unless I need to sample colours, and I'm currently working on a colour reference for myself. Besides the point I suppose... I'll put them at the very bottom of the cut so scroll right past my ramblings if you want to.

As for advice. My advice is do not try developing a style if you are just starting out. style is the last thing that should be on your mind if you're just starting out. Style is something that happens naturally as you grow and learn what you like and get used to your tools, and being able to intentionally create a style is an advanced skill that requires the skill to draw in various styles, strong basics, self-awareness, and proper self-critique.

The rest of this is going to be very incoherent and long winded and backwards so I apologize.

The most important thing to improving is to get over yourself. You need to look at someone else's art and be able to admit it's better than yours or has a quality you wish yours had without that being a statement of self-deprecation. You need to be able to look at your own art and pick out what it is you don't like about it without using it to beat yourself up. You can't improve if you get demotivated by the information required to adjust your course.

If you must, find something in each drawing that you like and focus on learning how to recreate that. If you find yourself with a drawing that you genuinely find nothing you like about it you stop drawing and restart, because that drawing is worthless to you once you recognize that. Analyze why you don't like it, figure out what's causing you to draw that way, ask what you might prefer instead and what the difference between them is, and figure out how to draw what you want instead. The important thing is that when you examine your art and other's art you're using as inspiration you don't instead use it as a tool to put yourself down.

My shadows are flat and poorly angled, and I draw everything lopsides, and I can say those things as simple facts of my art. These are things I still do, and I use tools to fix them, like turning my tablet or using editing tools, or looking up references. If I want to know a certain technique I reach out to other artists I see using said technique and asking, or I research it myself. In the meantime I experiment and accept this flaw in my art. There's other things to like. The important thing is you don't allow your lack of knowledge to demotivate you from correcting that lack of knowledge.

The best thing you can do is ask yourself what you like about art, and what you want to do. It's a bit difficult for me to help with this sort of thing because I've literally always drawn my whole life, so helping someone who is actively choosing to take up drawing isn't my realm of expertise. But art is communication and connection and self-expression. What do you want to express through your art and what medium is that expression best done in, what do you want to convey, what do you want to share that you simply cannot without art.

It's a bit daunting, those sound like profound questions, but honestly they're not. When I draw fanart usually what I wanna communicate is "I like these characters when they do this", and more often than not it's "I really liked this line/palette".

These incomplete character sketches have sat in my main D&D folder and I think about him at least once a month entirely because I was so happy with his proportions and the concept of a dewclaw heel. I ended up reusing the heel in these Jimmy designs.

It can be anything and changes with each piece. Drawing let's me express what I love and emphasize what I love about it or show it from my perspective. I'll use this raau page as an example.

This is actually based on a shop that I've gone to since I was a child, so it's a space that I've seen and thought about many times. Though it's changed, for ease of drawing and to fit into the setting of raau and for the sake of composition, but the things that are important to me are still here. The ceiling that feels slightly claustrophobically low, the rainbow coordinated shirts, the club covers shaped like animals, every inch of the shop being utilized for merchandise until you can barely see the walls, the nook shape of the section, the fluorescent lights with this specific covering that's very "soulless office job" but to me is also the playroom at my grandma's house and how both have no windows.

I wanted to preserve particular qualities of the atmosphere of the place, in order to express that in this image. That vibe that I could not describe in words to anyone who hasn't experienced it themselves so the best I could normally do is describe it and hope it sparks a similar enough memory. But with visual art I can use lightning, context, and composition to simply express it better. I can create the experience for someone else.

Sometimes writing is better at it than words, and sometimes both are needed, so I learned both. Sometimes music is better than either and I'm screwed because I can't do music. That's besides the point though.

When you're starting out you can have a hard time grasping what about a piece compels you. That's why you need to learn to critique art as you learn to draw, and that's also why tracing and copying is good.

Here's an example of me trying out @lunarcrown's art style. I made a collage and traced my favourite frame's shapes to "get my hands on it", if you will, before trying it out on my own, starting with similar poses usually. What I learned from this is I really like how Lunar does hair, actually even though this was a study of Tango I took notes on how she does Jimmy's hair and applied it to my Scar, Impulse, and Skizz, because I'm awful at short men's hairstyles.

I also cemented one of the reasons I love her art is because it does have some qualities that I already incorporate into mine, like the streamlining between flushed materials such as her Tango's skin and skin-tight shirt, or my Tango's sleeves and gloves.

If you know what you like about something it's easier to work towards incorporating it into your own art without simply copying someone else's. And starting out by copying as a way to play around with someone's art the same way an engineer pulls something apart is helpful in doing so.

Which leads me further back into simply go somewhere and draw what you see. The drawing does not have to be good, but being able to just take a sketchbook and see something that scratches your brain and mimic it is important to developing the above skills. Being able to translate reality into an image is important to developing your skills and understanding the fundamentals of breaking things down. Being able to look at something moving or possibly far away and look down and draw it anyways by breaking down its shapes is important in developing your ability to use references.

Drawing is also mostly muscle memory. So it's important to draw things over and over again. You can do this how you want, you're always going to hit a wall where you end up having to sit there and draw circles 50 times on a page to remember how to draw circles like you're trying to get a dry pen to work. You will do this before almost every serious picture. Find a way for you to enjoy this process.

The biggest most important rule about art, though, is that there is not rules. Go about things however you want for whatever reason you want. If you enjoy doing something a certain way do it that way, if you hate a particular process eliminate it. Sometimes the result outweighs a miserable process, if having something look a certain way is more important then suck it up and do so. If you care more about enjoying a motion than what the end result is then do so. You have to ask yourself what you care about in art.

For now, though, if you're just starting out. The best thing you can do is draw a lot of circles and cubes and fruit. It's an unfortunate truth that the best foundation is learning realism, because it's just going to teach your the fundamentals the best, and all abstraction is... well, an abstraction.

Of course, as just said, there is no rules, and if you genuinely do not enjoy drawing those things like me, then you can simply not. It helps improvement the fastest but if it makes you miserable in a way that isn't backed by passion then that's counterproductive. Forcing yourself only really works if you're passionate enough about what you're doing to overcome the temporary discomfort of learning, so if you're satisfied with just being able to mimic something more abstract in the beginning do exactly that and explore what would make you passionate enough to be willing to draw things you aren't stoked about for an end result. You might never be, but that's also fine, you don't have to strive to be the world's greatest artist to justify drawing.

Also accept that you're absolutely going to change your mind on things. What felt like a great line to draw you're going to hate the next day. It's up to you if you leave it be or fix it, neither's the right answer. I tend to lean towards leaving it personally, even when it drive some up a wall, simply because I have very momentary inspiration and don't like returning to old pieces once I'm done with them. Some people will return to a picture over and over again fixing it every time they think of something. Whatever floats your boat.

tl;dr figure out what you enjoy doing with art and just do that as much as you like. Improve by finding new things you want to do with art. Combine as you see fit to create art.

...

okay time for references:

I try to keep my designs simple because the style I developed for mcyt art was intended for animations. I've drifted a bit but in general I keep to simple shape-defined designs with long lines, flat colours, and minimal wrinkles. It's intentionally flat in many ways in order to create more satisfying lines, like the collar of his shirt or the way his hands ' gradient is done with the line art.

Tango is both round and angular, basically he's an almond. His shape is ambiguous in much of his clothing, with very understated joints. This gives him a move cartoony elastic sort of vibe, like he's just a pipe cleaner that can bend any which way, or a piece of rubber that might stretch.

I avoid bogging him down with logic for that reason, his hair is styled like hair but it has the appearance and moves like fire. Which is it? Who knows. Where are his organs? I haven't drawn them so they don't exist.

[fruvittea]

what we didn’t say

💌﹒→﹒jay x reader (relationship au)﹒ ﹒ ♪

— genre: angst, slice of life

— word count: 1.3k

— warnings? arguing

The apartment felt colder than it should have, the winter chill seeping through the cracks despite the heat running on high. It wasn’t just the temperature, though—it was the weight in the air, heavy with words left unsaid and emotions neither of you dared to confront.

Jay sat at the dining table, his posture tense, one hand curled into a fist against the surface while the other rubbed at his temple. You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, trying to hold yourself together. The silence stretched endlessly, punctuated only by the distant hum of the heater.

“Are we just going to ignore it?” he asked finally, his voice low but tight, like he was holding back a flood.

You bit your lip, your heart twisting. “Ignore what?”

Jay let out a sharp breath, looking at you like you’d just thrown gasoline on a simmering fire. “This,” he said, gesturing between the two of you. “The fact that we barely even talk anymore. The fact that everything feels so… off.”

You flinched at his words, not because they weren’t true, but because you didn’t know how to respond. How could you explain the gnawing ache in your chest, the constant fear that you were failing him?

“I didn’t think I needed to spell it out,” you said quietly, your tone defensive despite yourself.

“That’s the problem,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “You never spell it out. I feel like I’m always guessing with you, trying to figure out what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking. It’s exhausting.”

Your heart dropped, a sharp pang of guilt cutting through you. But instead of apologizing, instead of admitting how scared you were of burdening him, your defenses kicked in.

“Maybe if you weren’t so busy all the time, you’d know how I’m feeling,” you shot back, regretting the words the moment they left your mouth.

Jay’s expression faltered, hurt flashing across his face before he quickly masked it with anger. “That’s not fair,” he said, his voice low but trembling. “You know I’m doing all of this for us.”

“Are you?” you challenged, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like you’re always somewhere else, like I’m just… here, waiting for you to remember me.”

The crack in your voice sent a pang through Jay’s chest, but instead of softening, he felt frustration boil over. He hated how you always seemed to misinterpret his actions, how he couldn’t find the words to make you understand.

“I’m trying,” he said, his voice louder now, the frustration spilling out. “Do you think I want to be away from you? Do you think it doesn’t kill me when I see how unhappy you are?”

“Then say that,” you yelled, your tears threatening to spill. “Stop expecting me to just know what you’re thinking! Stop leaving me in the dark!”

“I could say the same to you!” he shouted back, his voice cracking. “You act like I’m supposed to read your mind, like I’m supposed to know exactly what you need without you ever telling me!”

The room fell silent, the echoes of your argument bouncing off the walls. You both stood there, breathing heavily, the weight of your words settling over you like a heavy blanket.

Inside, Jay’s thoughts were spiraling.

He hated this—hated the way his words came out wrong, hated the way you looked at him like he was a stranger. All he ever wanted was to make you feel loved, to give you everything you deserved. But somewhere along the way, he’d lost sight of how to show it.

Why couldn’t he just say it? Why couldn’t he admit that he felt like he was failing you, like nothing he did was ever enough?

On the other side of the room, you were lost in your own storm of emotions.

You didn’t want to fight. You never did. But every time you tried to express yourself, the words got tangled, and your fear of being misunderstood turned into anger instead. You wanted to tell Jay how much you loved him, how much you missed the version of you two that felt effortless.

But how could you, when you weren’t even sure he felt the same anymore?

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Jay said finally, his voice softer now, but heavy with emotion. “But I feel like that’s all I do lately.”

The vulnerability in his tone cracked something in you, but instead of reaching for him, you held yourself tighter. “I don’t think it’s just you,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I feel like I’m the problem too. Like… maybe I’m too much, or not enough, or—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his eyes wide with something between shock and pain. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”

“Why not?” you said, your voice breaking. “It’s how I feel, Jay. And I don’t know how to stop feeling it.”

Jay clenched his fists, his throat tightening as he tried to find the right words. But every time he opened his mouth, they slipped away, replaced by the overwhelming weight of his own inadequacy.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Neither do I,” you said, tears spilling over now.

The silence that followed was deafening, filled only with the sound of your quiet sobs and Jay’s uneven breathing.

Eventually, Jay stepped back, his movements hesitant, like he was afraid of breaking something fragile. “Maybe we need time,” he said, his voice strained. “Time to figure out what we really want, what we’re doing to each other.”

You froze, his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “You’re saying we should… break up?”

“I’m saying I don’t know what else to do,” he said, his voice breaking. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

The pain in his eyes mirrored your own, and for the first time, you realized just how much this was killing him too.

“Jay…”

“I love you,” he said, cutting you off. “I need you to know that. No matter what happens.”

You swallowed hard, your heart shattering as you nodded. “I love you too,” you said, your voice barely audible.

But sometimes, love wasn’t enough to hold two broken pieces together.

When Jay finally left, the silence in the apartment was unbearable. You sank onto the couch, wrapping your arms around yourself as the weight of the breakup settled over you.

Somewhere, deep down, you knew this wasn’t the end. But for now, all you could do was sit with the pain and hope that one day, you’d both learn how to say the things you couldn’t.

And maybe then, you’d find your way back to each other.

✴︎🪷𓈒͏ུུ̑̑. ཉ — by @fruvittea

[sturnswrites]

terms and conditions - pt.3

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

⤳ you move in with the triplets after losing your apartment prompting a "roommate agreement". after having a tricky relationship with matt, some of the rules begin to blur.

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

The adjustment period was over. By now, you’d fallen into a rhythm in the house, learning to dodge the relentless pranks and boisterous outbursts. The chaos no longer felt overwhelming—it felt oddly comforting.

But then there was Matt.

You knew he was always quieter and less outgoing than his brothers. But when you were around he was even quieter than usual, more reserved, but you were starting to notice the subtleties in him. The way he’d lean against the counter, sipping a drink, his eyes scanning the room like he was both in his head and completely aware of everything at once. The way his lip would quirk up at the corner when someone said something sarcastic.

And then there were the moments that didn’t seem like Matt at all—the softer ones. Like how you’d open the fridge late at night and find a plate of leftovers from dinner, covered neatly in plastic wrap with a sticky note scrawled in his familiar handwriting: "Don’t forget to eat."

It was nothing, really. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

But the nothingness started to pile up into something that tugged at the edges of your mind more than you’d care to admit.

-

It was another average night, almost midnight when you wandered downstairs, your stomach growling, per usual. The house was unusually quiet, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound as you padded into the kitchen.

You opened the fridge, and there it was—a Tupperware container of cut-up fruit and a bag of chips with another note in Matt’s sharp handwriting: "For whoever gets hungry after midnight."

You smiled to yourself, shaking your head. Of course, it wasn’t labeled for you specifically, but no one else in this house cared enough to do this kind of thing.

You were halfway through the container of fruit when Matt’s voice broke the silence behind you.

“You always eat standing up?”

You jumped, spinning around to find him leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and his eyes flicking from the fruit in your hand to your startled expression.

“Well, I didn’t know I’d have an audience,” you said, trying to play it cool.

Matt smirked, stepping closer until he was standing across the island from you. His hair was messy, his hoodie loose around his shoulders, but his gaze was sharp, a quiet intensity that made your pulse quicken.

“Didn’t think you’d be up this late,” you added, popping another piece of fruit into your mouth, desperate to fill the silence.

“I don’t sleep much,” he replied casually, though his eyes lingered on you longer than they probably should have.

You tried to focus on the fruit, but the way he was watching you was making it impossible. Finally, you blurted out, “You know, for someone who doesn’t care, you sure leave a lot of snacks.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you teased, leaning slightly over the island. “Maybe you’re trying to impress me or something.”

His smirk widened, but there was something else in his expression now—something darker, heavier. He stepped around the island, closing the distance between us until he was so close you could feel the heat radiating from him.

“Impress you?” he repeated, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as he leaned in, his face just inches from yours. His eyes flicked to your lips for a brief moment before meeting your gaze again.

“If I wanted to impress you,” he murmured, his tone dripping with suggestion, “I’d be doing a hell of a lot more than just leaving snacks in the fridge.”

Your breath hitched, the air between the two of you charged and impossibly thick. For a moment, you thought he might actually close the gap, and the idea both thrilled and terrified you.

But then he pulled back, smirking as if nothing had happened. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice maddeningly calm as he turned and walked down the hall, leaving you standing there, speechless.

-

The next day passed in a haze, Matt’s words echoing in your mind at the most inconvenient moments. You were so preoccupied that you barely noticed Chris and Nick leaving in the afternoon, off to run some errand or another.

The house was eerily quiet when you got a call that sent your mood spiraling. It was nothing catastrophic, just a collection of bad news piling on top of a bad week. By the time you hung up, you felt completely drained, the weight of everything pressing against your chest.

You were curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the TV, when Matt appeared in the doorway. He hesitated, his usual confidence replaced with something softer.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak.

Matt walked over and sat down beside you, keeping a respectable distance but close enough that you could feel his presence. “What happened?”

You shook your head. “It’s nothing. Just a bad day.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just nodded, his gaze fixed on the TV. After a moment, he reached over and grabbed the blanket draped over the back of the couch, tossing it over your shoulders.

You blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. “Thanks,” you murmured.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

You turned to look at him, and for a second, everything else faded away. His usual guarded expression was gone, replaced by something raw and unfiltered. It was a side of him you weren't used to seeing, and it made your chest ache in a way you didn’t understand.

“Thanks, Matt,” you said softly, and you meant it.

He gave you a small nod, his hand lingering on the edge of the blanket for a moment before he pulled away. The moment passed quickly, but it left a mark, the kind that made me question everything you thought you knew about him.

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

kind of a shorter chapter but slow burnnn

⭒ margot

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

@hesvoid3434

[theartsynebulawhodoodles]

matching bracelets. Color X Killer One Shot and Art!

{Comfort, cuddles, LOTS OF KISSES ON THE FACE, relaxation, loneliness, soothing, can be interpreted as romantic or platonic, lots of affection, hugs, snuggles, reassurance}

[Tw: This contains themes of loneliness, possible separation anxiety (depends on how you interpret it), and a mention of keeping everything bottled up and hidden, Nightmare being cruel to Killer reference (not sure if these two needs to be mentioned, but just in case!)]

[Mention! Not everyone experiences loneliness the same way! This is written by perspective!]

ART AND FANFIC UNDER CUT!

“Hey, Killer, I brought rubber bands!”

Color’s soft and cheerful voice was heard as the two sat outside together. The birds chirping and the grass ruffling under Color’s feet the only other things heard in the tranquil environment. Killer looked up from the ground, tilting his head.

“what are we going to do with those?”

Killer asked, confused by it, looking at all the different colors inside the box. Color smiled and sat down next to Killer, placing the clear box onto the ground. Color’s rainbow flames swirled around like smoke in their air, a sense of joy apparent in his expression.

“Cmon, I wanna make bracelets! It’s fun, trust me!”

Color spoke in an excited and happy tone. Killer never seen him so ecstatic. He would do anything to keep that expression on Color’s face, so, he complied.

“well, if you wanna do it. How do we make them with rubber bands though? don’t we need…string or something?”

Killer asked, confused by the presence of rubber bands in this task. Weren’t they supposed to be used for hair or something? Color soon guided his hand into Killer’s, firmly yet warmly grasping it. Color brought Killer’s hand close to his. Killer’s eyes started to sparkle from the close touch, which looked like little stars in the night sky.

“Heh, see? You are excited. Look, you have stars again!”

Color pointed out with a lazy smile and a chuckle. Killer immediately got flustered and hid his face in his jacket. The little stars in his eyes always appear when he was happy, and it was still a process to let them be seen without embarrassment. Color kissed Killer’s forehead, smiling at him before opening the clear box.

“Alright, let me show you an easy pattern to do. So what you do is-“

Color plucked a red rubber band from the box, putting it into an infinity sign before placing it on Killer’s fingers. Then, he grabbed another one, a black rubber band, and placed it without crossing it onto Killer’s fingers.

“Now, you place the crossed one onto the top rubber band. Keep doing this, without crossing the new ones of course, until it’s long enough to wrap around your wrist!”

Color said with a smile. Killer’s eyes sparkled slightly at Color’s smile, looking down at his fingers. He began to do what Color said, continuing to make a bracelet. Color’s happiness motivated Killer, and he wanted to see him smile. Color began to work on his own.

After a while, the two eventually created their bracelets. Color’s was rainbow, and Killer’s was red, black, and white. Color looked at Killer with a smile.

“Look, we made matching bracelets! I know they aren’t completely matching- but we made them together.”

Color said with a soft smile. Killer was filled with joy seeing Color so happy and full of life. He wanted to see it more. Killer slowly smiled with Color, hugging him tight.

.

.

.

But it was only a memory. Now Killer sat alone in his room, staring at the ground with his hands clasped together. His eyes focused on the ground, his soul feeling like an anvil inside of his chest. He felt so…hopeless. He couldn’t sense any tranquility in himself.

It was always his weakness to be alone. It reminded him of so many things, and now it made him feel lonely. Loneliness was scary to him. He remembered what happened to him last time he was lonely, how his soul screamed out for somebody, and someone who planned to hurt him came. He was scared of it happening again.

How can he be vulnerable? Who was going to see the opportunity and just hurt him over and over again? Who can he trust? And even if he told someone, who would actually believe him? After all, people saw his friends and said he wasn’t lonely cause he had friends.

He decided to remain quiet. he knew it wasn’t the best choice, but what could he do? He didn’t want to go through the same thing again, and again, and again. But while he was cycling through those thoughts, he looked down at the bracelet. The red, black, and white rubber band bracelet.

He stared for a bit, his mind traveling through all the thoughts, all the memories he had with Color. Color would never harm him, Color wasn’t like that. So, he decided to be vulnerable in front of him, for the first time. He picked up his phone, opening up his messages and clicking on Color. He pressed the call button. It was an act of courage he was so grateful he done instead of staying quiet.

Soon, Color picked up.

“Kills? Why are you calling?”

“hey, uh, i’m in a rough patch. can you…stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Of course. I’m coming over right now, but please, talk to me.”

Killer began to tear up. The re-realization that Color cared about him circled in his mind, his heart swelling and tightening.

“i need you here. I feel lonely- i am terrified. nightmare keeps popping into my mind. p-please, come to me, i’m scared..”

Killer pleaded, soft sobs soon escaping his mouth.

“I’m almost there. keep taking deep breaths, you’re strong, okay?”

Color spoke to him. After a minute, Color arrived. Killer immediately ran into Color’s arms, sobs escaping him. Color immediately hugged Killer back, rubbing his back and softly whispering to him.

“It’s okay, I got you, I got you..”

Color whispered. Killer continued to sob, finally letting himself be vulnerable in front of someone. It’s been years since he done this. Color looked at Killer, caressing his face before leaning down and kissing his forehead.

“Let me see your starry eyes, Kills.”

Color whispered softly, worry in his rainbow lit eye. Killer hesitated, before looking up, letting the teeny tiny holes of light that looked like stars shine at Color. Color softly smiled, kissing Killer’s tears away, a bit of black goop appearing on his lip.

“I need you to tell me what’s going on, okay? You are worrying me sick.”

Color whispered, slowly guiding Killer out of his room and to Color’s room. Color knew that Killer’s room could be a danger to him at times because it could bring back bad memories of the past because of it being a smaller room, and more trapping to Killer, like he was trapped. The messiness makes the room feel more small and trapping to Killer. Once inside Color’s cozy and more spacious room, Color led Killer to his bed, sitting him down. Color placed a hand on Killer’s arm, rubbing it.

Killer hesitated, shaking slightly in fear of opening up. Yet he took a deep breath, letting the bright light that is Color immerse him in a state of comfort.

“i’m fearful, color. i feel so far away from you. i feel so far away from everyone, even horror and dust, hell, even delta. but i’m scared of telling anyone this, what if they turn out like nightmare? what if they don’t listen?”

Killer whispered, tearing up as all the emotion he buried deep down into his soul freed from its bindings of pretending everything was okay. Killer grabbed Color’s hand and squeezed it, his fingers twitching. Color nodded at his words, slowly moving his hand to Killer’s waist and slowly moving him into his arms for a embrace, knowing he couldn’t look him in the eyes in this state and just wanted to be held. Color whispered to Killer, comforting and soothing the poor skeleton.

“Killer, I want you to listen close, okay? Nobody will betray you, okay? Nobody will do that to you. We care for you to the moon, back again, and beyond the moon. I want you to know that we love you. I love you. And I always will love you and be here for you. I’ll be your greatest supporter, okay?”

Color reassured him, slowly laying down while Killer was on top of him. Killer looked at Color with tears running down his face, his hand gently clenching Color’s shoulder. Killer soon let himself lay his head on Color’s shoulder and curl up in his arms. He shivered, looking up at Color.

“you mean it?”

Killer asked in an unsure tone. Color softly smiled, caressing Killer’s face with both hands, before placing another kiss on his temple.

“Of course. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t, huh?”

Color said, a soft chuckle coming from him to lighten the mood. Killer nodded, slowly leaning up and lightly kissing the corner of Color’s mouth. Color smiled, a soft rainbow blush appearing on his face. Color caressed Killer’s skull as Killer lowered his skull onto Color’s shoulder, Color whispering a soft question.

“I know you want to be like this for a while, so, do you want me to play your favorite song? Maybe some white noise? Pink noise?”

Color asked. Killer looked up at him, the stars peeking out in his eyes again as he responded.

“no. your breathing is all i need.”

Killer whispered back in a loving and more relaxed tone. The twos hands clasped together, their matching bracelet clasps slowly attaching together. Killer’s soul lifted up, Color’s touch gentle as he caressed the soul. Color gently kissed the soul, which made a sense of relaxation pour over Killer. The loneliness was now replaced by the comfort of his beloved Color. He was now at peace.

[ashlees-lostfiles]

bad religion

a/n: so ngl this is kinda bad like rlly bad but its bcuz i haven't written in MONTHS so i was trying to get back into it, any tips would be appreciated! (not proofread)

you and chris are friends with benefits, but the two of you got into a fight because you gained feelings for him and wanted more from him, but he didn't feel the same

���taxi driver, be my shrink for the hour’

i'm driving through the streets of boston with the windows down letting the wind flow through my hair, taking in the scenery, and watching the leaves flow down from the trees. when i picked chris up, he got in my car. i say “Chris we need to talk, i can't keep doing this with you anymore like this i need more from you.” he stares back at me with a blank expression spread across his face as if he doesn't even care about what i said. “chris hello please say something, anything even. break my heart if you have to i'm just begging you to please say something.” he lets out a slight laugh as tears start to well up in my eyes he says “well, ma i don't even know what you want me to say i told you what this was from the start we said this was strictly sex no feelings were supposed to be involved, and we weren't supposed to get attached to each other that's your fault for catching feelings and thinking i would feel the same”

‘i can never make ‘em love me, never make ‘em love me’

“but why can't you even think about it and take it into consideration? think about how nice it would be, just me and you. always available whenever you want me for anything.” he shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose clearly frustrated “why can't you just understand that i don't want all of that, i don't want to be in a relationship tied down to someone, and always having to worry about someone else it's too much".

‘oh, unrequited love'

'to me, it's nothin' but a one-man cult’

tears start to fill the brim of my eyes as his words sink in my voice breaks as i say “so basically what you're trying to say is that you just don't want me” tears start streaming down my face. Chris looks at me with a saddened look in his eyes “ma it's not that, its just too much we both agreed on what this was and if you couldn't handle it then you shouldn't have agreed to it in the first place” i slap his arm and say “don't you ever call me that again you have no right to do so after saying what you did, you broke my heart and still go act like you did nothing wrong, you hurt me chris and you don't even care enough to apologize” i say as i start to sob becoming barely understandable.

“trust me i am sorry but this is your fault not mine” he says while putting his hands up defensively. “chris get the fuck out of my car i can't stand you right now, dont contact me again until you come to your senses”

‘it's a, it's a bad religion, to be in love with someone, who could never love you’

taglist: @diaryofmiyah @clairomatt

divider creds: @bernardsbendystraws