#want to try me again and pretend there's nothing to this

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNMATCHED II.

A/N: soooo you guys were just as horny for a part 2 to this story as i was so here we are, giving in to the temptation. disclaimer, i know their behavior is giving red flag energy but lets just put that aside for the sake of the story now lol

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

WARNING: sexual content, age gap, student-professor relationship

SUMMARY: Harry has been trying his best to forget what happened with Y/N, he is set on never making the same mistake, but it seems like fate has different plans for him.

PART 1 | MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

That skirt. That goddamned skirt. That’s gonna be the death of Harry. 

And also the fact that she went back to that asshole. 

Sitting in the busy school cafeteria Harry has zoned out of the conversation at the table a long time ago, precisely when he saw Y/N stroll in wearing that short skirt with that dickhead she should have ditched already or better, she shouldn’t have even dated him in the first place. But now they are moving in the line with their group of friends and he has his hand on her waist and it keeps inching lower, just a few more inches and his hand could be slipping under her skir–

“Harry? Hello?” 

Stella catches his attention and he is forced to move his focus back to his colleagues at the table. 

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” He clears his throat and keeps his eyes on his half-eaten sandwich in front of him. 

“What’s up with you? You haven’t been your usual self lately.”

“Just… tired. I’m behind with my research and have a bunch of papers to grade before winter break.”

“The joys of being a teacher,” Stella chuckles. “Don’t worry, it’ll get better with time.”

“Really?”

“No,” she smirks at him. “But you’ll care less.”

She soon returns to the conversation at the table and Harry finds himself looking for Y/N again. There’s no trace of her in the line, but he is quick to spot her at a table across the dining hall, sitting beside Dickhead who has an arm around her neck, keeping her close as he wants everyone to know that they are together.

And it irks Harry way more than it probably should. 

It’s been a little over a week since Stella’s Christmas party and also that very heated and very wrong kiss he shared with Y/N. That weekend was like hell, he kept beating himself over and over about it, cursing himself out for being so stupid and reckless. He still has no idea what came over him that let him make out with a student, but he knew one thing for sure: it couldn’t happen again. 

So when Y/N walked into the classroom before his first lecture early on monday he didn’t even let her speak before he got to the point. 

“It shouldn’t have happened. I’m so sorry for it, but I can’t undo it now. I suggest let’s pretend nothing happened, it’s for the absolute best. No one can know about it and it will never happen again.”

She seemed taken aback by his outburst, but after a bit of hesitation she nodded.

“Okay. Nothing happened. It must have been the wine.”

“Yes,” he agreed right away. “We both drank more than we should have and made a mistake.”

She flinched at his last word, but didn’t protest, only nodded, holding her textbooks tighter to her chest. She looked so sad, even disappointed that Harry almost wanted to take back what he just said, but he knew he couldn’t. 

“Are you… okay?” he dared to ask, but when she looked at him again, her eyes told nothing. 

“I’m fine. I’ll see you in class, professor.”

And she was out of the classroom before he could say another word. In class she sat in the back and not even once did she look at him. He knows, because he kept looking at her. 

He’s been trying his best to get her out of his head, but with not much luck. Not when all he can think about is how soft her lips felt against his, how insanely good she tasted mixed with the coldness of the night, how amazingly she fit into his palm, the curve of her neck, back, waist and hips… and how badly he wants to experience it again even though it’s the worst possible idea. 

Harry thinks he is going insane. Genuinely. 

He’s been burying himself into work, but his focus has been all over the place, so it’s been more like a waste of time. He is one of the last ones in the building today as well. Most professors left a long time ago, but the lights in Harry’s tiny office are still on as he is hunched over a stack of papers. When he has to read over the same line for the twentieth time he drops his pen with a tired groan and leans back in his chair. He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes roughly, until he is practically seeing stars. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, staring at the papers that are still waiting to be graded. Checking the time on his phone he is surprised to see that it’s already past seven.

He stands from his chair and steps to the window. The campus looks quiet at this time, only a few students are walking towards the dorm that’s next to the literature department’s building. It’s a wednesday night, the semester ends next week so some lucky students who have no more exams left in the year have already left for the holidays. Harry will be going home right before Christmas, he plans to use those few days of the break to work on his research in peace. 

From his window he sees part of the parking lot next to the dorm, it’s quite dark there, he almost doesn’t notice the figures sitting in the car closest to him, but a few heartbeats later realization hits him.

It’s Y/N and the dickhead. 

They are pretty far, but Harry can tell that they are in a heated fight, judging from how Y/N is gesticulating. Obviously he can’t hear them, but if he had to guess he would say she is shouting, from what he can see. 

For a moment he tells him to just ignore the scene, it’s none of anyone else’s business, let alone his. But when he sees the asshole slap his hands against the wheel several times, making Y/N jump, Harry is moving before he could second guess his actions. 

He practically sprints down that stairs, already trying to figure out how he’ll interject without appearing like a creep, but he forgets all his plans when he is marching towards the parking lot and sees the scene unfold from up close. 

At some point they must have gotten out of the car, because Harry catches the dickhead getting back into the driving seat, Y/N is crying and tries to stop him from shutting the door, but he swings it with such force that she stumbles forward, holding onto the handle. When Harry sees her almost fall to the asphalt he starts running, just as the car comes to life and he drives away so fast, he almost runs over Y/N’s feet. 

“Fuck you, Charlie! Fuck you!” She screams after the car, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Harry rushes over to her, grabs her by her shoulders and turns her away from the direction of the car. “Hey, what happened?”

She is gasping for air from the crying as she wraps her arms around her, those beautiful eyes that are usually filled with curiosity are now full of confusion and hurt. 

“Y/N, look at me,” he begs and she hiccups a few times before she finally looks him in the eyes. 

“H-Harry?”

He ignores how good it feels to hear her call him by his first name again and tries to focus on the situation.

“Yeah. Let’s get inside, okay? It’s freezing cold.”

She nods and lets him steer her towards the building and up to his office. By the time she sits in the old armchair in the corner of his office she has stopped sobbing, but her expression looks just as miserable as before. 

“I’ll make you a tea. Do you like tea?” he asks, stepping over to the tiny side table where he keeps his kettle and tiny tea collection with two mugs. She nods and he is quick to turn on the kettle. He grabs a chamomile filter and drops it into one of the mugs and while the water boils he hands her a box of tissues that she accepts with a quietly murmured thank you. 

When the tea is done he hands her the mug and sits in his chair, unsure what to say. He definitely did not plan to have her in his office anytime soon and definitely not like this. 

“Go on, lecture me about being with him,” she says at last, staring into the mug in her hands. 

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“But you’d be right.” She looks up at him, eyes still red from the crying. 

“Why did you go back to him?” he softly asks, not wanting to make her feel even worse. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, looking away again. “He could be convincing, I guess.”

“Hope you won’t believe him after this.”

“No,” she chuckles bitterly before taking a sip from the tea, leaning back in the armchair. “Not even the sex will convince me to go back to him.”

Harry’s muscles jump at her words. Not because he is such a prude, but because instantly he is thinking about sex… and her… and his body reacts involuntarily. Clearing his throat he crosses his legs and looks anywhere but at her.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she chuckles softly, but she doesn’t seem sorry at all. 

“No, I… um…” Harry has no idea what to say. This feels like such an impossible situation, he is definitely walking on eggshells here and the fact that he is semi-hard does not help his case. 

While he is looking for the right words she places her mug to his desk and crosses her legs, a curious look playing in her eyes as she is looking at him. She appears calm and confident suddenly, like she wasn’t sobbing ten minutes ago. 

“I lied,” she then speaks up.

“About what?”

“I know why I went back to him.”

“Oh. Okay, why did you?”

She holds his gaze for one… two… three seconds before her lips part, then she hesitates for one more moment before answering. 

“Because I couldn’t go to you.”

A shiver runs down his spine at her words, his body is betraying him already, but he hangs onto the last bit of his rationality.

“Y/N, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t tell the truth?”

“We agreed that we are not talking about it again.”

“I’m not talking about that night. I’m talking about how badly I’ve been wanting you, but knowing I can’t have you I went back to Charlie even though I knew I shouldn’t have.” 

“Y/N…” His mouth is dry and he feels ridiculously hot even though the heating hasn’t been working too well lately in his office. He is clawing at the arms of his chair, trying to keep the remains of his cool, though it feels like he is hanging on a thread.

“I won’t do anything about it, don’t worry. And I won’t bring it up again.” She sounds different this time, the confidence has turned into what feels like disappointment and it lurches something in Harry’s gut. 

Standing she smoothes her clothes before looking at Harry, a tiny sliver of expectancy glistening in her eyes. 

“Thanks for the tea. I better get going.”

She is already moving towards the door when Harry jumps to his feet, entirely lost about what to think, do or say. He strides after her and just when she is about to reach for the knob, he grabs her other hand, stopping her mid action. 

But he has no idea why he just did that. His rationality is screaming at him, but with each passing moment he spends holding her hand, the noise gets farther and farther away until it’s lost somewhere in the back of his mind. 

Slowly, she turns her head, eyes taking in the sight of their touching hands before her gaze meets his. He instantly stumbles back, letting go of her like she was on fire, but she doesn’t seem surprised. Instead, she turns around and just stands there, with a calm, but determined look on her face. 

“Careful professor,” she then speaks up. “I might take your actions as a hint.”

“A hint…” he breathes out, almost mesmerized with her, he is convinced she’s put a spell on him, because he can’t move or think straight, he just keeps staring at her.

“Yes, a hint,” she nods shortly. “That you want me just as much as I want you.”

He swallows down a moan that almost slips through his lips at her words. His whole body is burning for her, palms sweating and itching to touch her and he can almost taste her on his tongue again, desperate to pick up from where they left off not long ago. 

The tiniest smirk tugs on the corners of her mouth when she sees just how much he is struggling and she takes it as her queue to push her luck just a bit further. She takes a step closer to him, but still leaves some space between them, wanting him to close those last inches. 

“You know you can have me.” She cocks her head to the side, blinking up at him innocently. “Right here, on your desk or in that armchair. I want to be your good girl and take whatever you give me.”

“Stop it,” he manages to breathe out, but all his strength is gone, it sounds more like a plea rather than an order. 

“What if I don’t?” she sassily questions. “Will you punish me?”

Harry whimpers. They both know he is close to breaking and she is not stepping down now and she’s determined to push him over the edge. Slowly she reaches up, drags a finger across her lips before moving then down, tugging at her shirt at her chest, revealing more of the exposed skin there, then she starts playing with the top button, all while keeping her eyes focused on him. He sucks on his breath, his gaze keeps switching between her eyes and what her fingers are doing. 

Then it pops open, revealing the delicious swell of her breasts and a bit of the lacy bra as well and he knows he is gone. 

“Close the curtain,” he simply orders and a sudden rush of excitement washes over her as she quickly moves across the room, drawing the curtains on the window and turning around she is expecting him to be in the same spot, but to her surprise he is right there and before she could say a word, his lips crash down on hers with such force she would have fallen back if he didn’t already have an arm around her waist. 

His other hand is quick to find its way to her throat first, then to her jaw, angling her head perfectly so he can devour her. 

He spins them around and she gasps when her ass meets the edge of his desk, still kissing her he pushes forward, blindly tossing everything on the desk aside to make room, something clatters as it falls to the ground but neither of them cares to even look. His hands are on the back of her legs and he helps her up until she is sitting on top of the desk. 

She eagerly opens her thighs and circles her legs around his hips, pulling him closer and when she feels just how hard he already is, pushing against her clothed center, she can’t help but moan at the sensation. 

“It’s a one time thing,” he pants when her fingers start to work on his shirt and his hands find the button of her jeans. 

“Sure,” she breathes out smiling.

“Just to get it out of our system.”

“Of course,” she nods eagerly, and a moment later she is tugging his shirt off his shoulders. 

Buttons come undone, clothes are thrown across the room and soon enough all of his focus is on her naked chest, his hands exploring the tender, heated skin before his head dips down and his mouth meets her hardened nipples. 

“Oh fuck,” she moans, head falling back as she has an arm around his shoulders, the other one planted behind her on the desk. All while his hands are tugging down her jeans, finally giving him the chance to touch her inner thighs, exploring the warmth and softness he’s been fantasizing about for so long. 

He gently bites on one of her nipples, making her back arch, burying his face between her breasts before he leans back to get rid of her jeans. She has a moment to admire his naked torso, all the tattoos he’s been hiding under his clothes, his pants are hanging around his knees and his erection is throbbing through the fabric of his underwear. She can’t help but smile at the sight, it’s surely one she’ll remember forever.

When her jeans are discarded on the floor he plants his hands on her thighs and pushes them wide open, revealing her drenched panties. He brings his thumb over the wet fabric, lazily drags it over her clit, making her tremble under his touch. Then keeping eye contact with her he pulls his chair under him, sits down and rolls closer so his face is perfectly lined up with her. With his eyes still locked on hers, he leans forward, moves her panties to the side and places a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to her throbbing clit, making her moan so loud, he digs his fingers into her thighs pulling back. 

“You need to be quiet,” he warns her and she just eagerly nods, watching him take her underwear off completely and go back to where he was a moment ago. 

Harry drinks up her taste, he licks, kisses and sucks on the right spots, making her see stars as her orgasm is building up. When she feels two of his fingers slip into her she grabs a handful of his hair, tugging on it. 

But right when she is about to tip over the edge he pulls back, leaving her in a heaving mess. Reaching into one of his drawers he grabs a condom and standing up he watches her lying on his desk, chest rapidly rising and falling while he rolls the condom on. 

To his surprise, she gets up and jumps off the desk, taking the initiative by pushing him down back into the chair and straddling his lap. His hands are quick to move to her ass as his cock wedges between her drenched folds. He hisses when she starts rolling her hips, making them both even more feral for what’s about to come. 

She leans forward and kisses him, her hand reaching down between them until it finds his cock. She gives him a few lazy strokes to which he hums lowly into her mouth. Then she stops her kisses, lips still brushing against his, eyes meeting again as she lifts herself up just enough to angle him underneath her and then slowly she eases down, letting him enter her inch by inch until she is filled entirely. She gasps at the feeling of her walls stretching around him and they both stop for a few moments, just savoring how perfectly they fit together. 

She plants both her hands to the base of his neck, kisses him again and starts moving her hips. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good,” he groans, locking his arms around her, fingers digging into her naked back and side as she starts to slowly pick up her pace, bouncing on him. 

When he starts thrusting upwards, meeting her movements, her head rolls back from how deep she feels him inside her, his tip reaching the perfect spot. 

“Yes, right there!” she gasps as he buries his head in her neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin while keeping his rhythm. “I’m so close,” she breathes out, her hands raking through his messy hair. 

Wanting even more friction she adjusts herself and then starts moving faster and rougher, aching for the release. She looks down, her eyes meet his gaze and she just knows he is as close as she is. 

“Harry,” she moans and hearing his name fall from her lips is what pushes him over the edge.

Grunting, his thrusts get rougher and fall out of their fast pace, he pushes into her over and over again as he fills the condom and watching him fall apart helps her let go as well. He feels her walls tighten around him while he is still riding out the afterwaves of his own orgasm, her mouth hangs open, nails digging into his shoulders so harshly they surely leave marks. 

Then they both slowly come off their high and she leans forward, capturing his lips in a much softer kiss than the ones they’ve shared just minutes ago. He gladly returns, their lips melt together and his fingers gently roam her naked back while he is still inside her. 

They’re quiet when she moves off him and grabs a few tissues to clean herself up while he discards the condom. The clothes are picked up from the floor one by one and a sense of unsureness settles between them as they both get dressed. 

She was the only thing on his mind just five minutes ago, but now that the sex haze is gone, his thoughts start racing. What did he do? What will happen now? This shouldn’t have happened but still, he wants to do it again and again and again. 

As if she knew he was panicking inside, she steps to him, takes his face in her hands and pulls him into a long, passionate kiss that instantly makes him forget about everything else. 

“Don’t overthink it,” she whispers against his lips. “We’re adults.”

“I’m your teacher,” he hums.

“The semester is almost over. Grade my last paper and we’re done,” she simply says with very little care about his current status. But he is not that sold on it just yet, hesitation and worry is all over his face. “Did you not want it?”

“You know how much I wanted it,” he admits defeatedly. 

“Great. I wanted it too. And I want it again. So I’ll come by tomorrow again. You’ll bend me over that desk after I had your cock in my mouth, then tell me what grade I’m getting for the semester and we do it again after that.”

He is already feeling himself getting hard again. Deep down he knows he should say no, but he has no will left to fight with himself anymore. So all he does is nod and then kiss her. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, professor.” She grabs her coat from the floor and then walks out of his office like nothing happened. 

Harry falls into his chair and assesses the mess on and around his desk, staring at the spot where she was sitting not long ago. He knows he is making his biggest mistake ever, but sinning has never felt this good.

And right now he is willing to take this risk.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[starkeyslibrary]

FALLING OUT OF FRAME | Part 3

pairing: you x drew starkey

The night Drew came back from his so-called “night out with the boys”, the tension was thick in the apartment. The sound of the front door creaking open felt like a bomb going off. You had been sitting on the couch for the last hour, alternatives between staring at your phone and looking out the window, hoping that something – anything – would make the ache in your chest fade. But the pain only deepened, and as the door clicked closed behind him, your stomach churned in a mix for dread and anger.

Drew walked in, his usual confident stride slowing when he saw you sitting there. There was a slight hesitation in his step, a quiet sign that he knew something was off. His eyes immediately darted to you, a mix of concern and something else that you couldn’t quite read. But the moment he stepped further into the room, your frustration broke free.

You didn’t even give him a chance to greet you, the words spilling out before he could say a word. “You’re late,” you said, your voice flat but filled with an edge he hadn’t heard in a long time.

Drew stopped in his tracks, glancing at his watch. “I told you, it was just a night out with the guys. Nothing big.” He said, his tone light, almost too casual. But you saw right through it. His words didn’t feel genuine anymore. You had heard the excuses before, and they were getting old.

You stood up, not wanting to be so passive about it anymore. “A night out with the guys? Really? That’s what you’re going with?” The bitterness in your voice caught you off guard, but there was no going back now.

Drew looked taken aback by the sharpness in your voice. “What’s going on, y/n?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “You’ve been acting strange ever since you saw those photos.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unable to contain the words that had been bubbling up inside for days. “Yeah, I saw the photos, Drew. You and Odessa. Out in public again. Walking around like everything is fine. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He opened his mouth to explain, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“No. Don’t you dare try to explain it away. I’m not stupid. I can see exactly what’s going on.” You could feel the anger rising in your chest, a mix of hurt and frustration that you couldn’t keep bottled up any longer. “You’re out with her, looking all cozy, like she’s the one you want. Not me. And I just … I don’t get it. You told me it was all fake, just for the cameras, but I can’t keep pretending that I believe you.”

Drew’s face hardened, and the disappointment in his eyes stung more than anything. He took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his cool, but you saw the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re making something out of nothing. It’s just part of the job, I swear. She’s just a co-star, and this is all for publicity. You know that. I thought you understood that.”

“Understand?” you laughed bitterly, but the sound came out more like a sob. “You think I understand? You think I’m supposed to just sit here and watch you with her while pretending like everything is fine? No, Drew. I can’t do that. I can’t keep pretending that this isn’t hurting me. That I’m not losing you, piece by piece.”

Drew stepped closer to you, his expression softening as if trying to reach you, but you were too far gone. Too far past the point of no return.

“I’m trying okay?” His voice cracked slightly, and for a moment, you thought he was being honest, but it didn’t change anything. “I’m trying to make this work, but this whole thing is a mess. I never wanted it to be like this.”

You shook your head, feeling the sting of his words like a slap across your face. “Make it work? How do you expect me to trust you when I see you out there with her, smiling like nothing’s wrong? How do you expect me to keep believing you when I know that every word you’ve said about us was just...  just a lie?”

Drew’s face darkened at your accusation, his voice rising as the frustration that had been simmering inside him for days boiled over. “I’m not lying to you, Y/N! I never wanted this to happen either, but this is the way things are right now. I’m doing what I have to do, for both of us.”

“For both of us?” you scoffed, the tears that had been building in your eyes finally breaking free. “This is for you, Drew. It’s always been for you. For your career, for your image. And I’m just supposed to sit here and be okay with it? You’re asking me to pretend like I’m okay with being second to her, to everything you’re doing for the cameras. You know what, Drew? I can’t do that anymore. I’m done pretending.”

There was a long, tense silence between you, both of you staring at each other as if trying to make sense of the chaos you had created. Drew ran a hand through his hair, his expression pained but you were beyond caring. You had tried so hard to hold on, to believe him and in what you had, but every day felt like a betrayal.

You stepped back, your voice barely a whisper. “I can’t trust you anymore, Drew. Not after everything. You’ve lied to me over and over, and I don’t even know who you are anymore. I’m not going to keep living in this lie, this lie that both of you have created for the world.”

Drew looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he just closed his eyes, the weight of your words crashing over him. He didn’t speak for a long moment, and for the first time, you realized he was just as lost as you were. But that didn’t change the fact it was too late.

Without another word, you grabbed your jacket, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t know where you were going, but you couldn’t stay in that apartment with him. Not like this. You needed space, you needed to breathe.

You walked the streets aimlessly, tears still wet on your cheeks as the cold air bit at your skin. Every step felt like a weight, each one dragging you further from the man you thought you knew. The city lights flickered in the distance, but they did nothing to brighten the darkness in your heart.

You didn’t even know how far you had walked until you found yourself standing in front of a quiet park by the water. The silence felt both comforting and unbearable, as if the world around you had completely disappeared. You collapsed onto a bench, hugging your arms to your chest to stave off the cold, but it did little to ease the storm inside of you.

The moments from earlier replayed in your mind – the fight, Drew’s words, your own pain – and all you could do was sit there and feel the weight of it all.

That’s when the flash of camera lights caught your attention.

At first, you didn’t react, too numb to care about the photographers who had followed you. But then, the flashes intensified. You wiped your face quickly, but it didn’t stop them. The tears you had tried to hide were now on full display, and you felt like your privacy, your pain was being exposed to the world.

“Y/N! Over here! A little smile for us!” A photographer called out, but you couldn’t. You didn’t have the strength to smile, not when everything felt so broken.

Your heart thudded in your chest as more flashes went off, capturing the raw emotion on your face – the hurt, the betrayal, the confusion. You could hear their voices, the jarring sound of camera clicks, as they shouted for you to look at the camera. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to perform for them. Not anymore.

You turned away, trying to escape their prying eyes, but you knew it was futile. The pictures will be everywhere tomorrow. The world would see you in this vulnerable state, and it felt like another punch to the gut.

You couldn’t stop the tears now. You couldn’t stop the feeling of being exposed, of being broke, of being so utterly alone in a world that seemed to move on without you.

A/N: please don’t hate me LOL😭

TAGLIST: @princesspeach124 @idiotussupremus @eitaababe @13tter @drewsephrry @drewstarkeyzwhore @cooper8224 @maybankslover @elyseesarchive @ietss @esquivelbianca @josephandrewstarkey @willowpains @wtfdudesblog @purplerose291

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Unhinged two

Jason Todd x Reader

MDNI

(part one)

wc: 1.2 K summary: your roommate finds your messages you send your friend about him. warnings: suggestive content, no y/n used a/n: since some of you wanted a part two of this, I gladly made one. (this came out a little rushed as well, not proofread! sorry!!) Enjoy!!

The moment he left the room, you grabbed your phone and made sure to never open that chat again. You still feel borderline embarrassed and ashamed, realising how weird it is.

Sighing out, you calm yourself down and sip on your tea, hands trembling from your racing heart. After another exhale, you start to think of what to do.

You need to apologise. That‘s the least you could do with a situation like this, after… you can‘t even think about it!

From the silence that lingers around the whole apartment, it‘s clear that Jason is probably expiriencing a mental breakdown too. Now that you think about it, you can‘t really imagine how he feels like after finding out about your dirty thoughts about him.

You don‘t even finish your tea before you sprint off the living room, throwing over your coat and storm outside to get him a proper apology.

Meanwhile, Jason is concerned. He started to look for his therapist‘s number on his phone, but hesitated actually clicking on it. What, should he say that he read through his roommate‘s messages and now wants to kill himself because of the pure filth that was written about him?

No, surely no one will believe him, or at least make fun of him if they believe him.

The safest option would be to keep it for himself, or tell Dick. Yeah, the safest option would be to keep it to himself.

Outisde of his room, he hears the front door click open again, laying his phone down as he contemplates wether to go out or not. His thoughts get interrupted once he hears soft knocks against it.

»Yeah?« Shit, he should‘ve said he is busy.

»Can I come in? I, um… I need to apologise.«

A hint of shame comes through your tone, head hanging low behind the door. There‘s clearly nothing more pathetic than this situation. The silence that follows after only makes your nerves run higher, making your shift on your feet.

»‘Kay.«

Jason is great at pretending to be non-chalant. But it‘s an answer, at least.

So you walk in. And stop in the doorframe, boquet of flowers in hand, his favourite order at the local fast food restaurant in the other. A pathetic expression on your face. He has to stop himself from reacting surprised and both pleased at the action, remembering what happened just a few moments ago.

»So… about those messages. I won‘t sugarcoat it, I did send them, there‘s no excuse I can use. But I won‘t do that again and I don‘t actually think of you in that way. I just… had to describe to my friend how you look like.«

You shrug at the end, placing the smaller paperbag onto his nightstand and hold the boquet in both of your hands for now. It‘s difficult, embarrassing and devistating, saying something in hopes that he will forgive you and let you stay in the shared apartment.

Truth be told, Jason couldn‘t feel more touched by this, trying so hard to keep his composure. He fails either way, the corners of his mouth curling up ever so faintly as he shakes his head.

»You didn‘t need to bring me flowers for that, but… thanks? And, I won‘t look into your phone again. Ever.«

That‘s a relief, handing over the boquet of flowers anyway. He takes them, finally smiling down at them. That‘s not how he expected to receive flowers, he never thought he would get them at some point in his life anyway.

»There‘s also you favourite order, I‘ll leave for now, just… uh— don‘t kick me out.«

Now he has to chuckle, putting the flowers away before he takes a look into the bag of food.

»Oh, I won‘t. It would be boring without you, no?«

He muses as he glances back up to you, an amused and teasing glint in his eye. Of course… he will never let you live that down.

From then on, every time you were slightly annoyed over something he did, Jason simply pulled out the ‚Remember how you talked about me to your friend?‘-card and instantly makes you shut up. But sometimes, you ignore that and go on about the rant you were currently holding.

»No, Jason, I don‘t care, and this happened two months ago! You should be able to clean at least the counter after cooking or baking something.«

You track back to the current argument, waving frustrated to the countertop that has traces from flour and butter.

Instead of getting hissy too, he simply tilts his hxcead, boxing you up against said counter.

»Say again?«

You go silent, staring up at him with big, shocked eyes, standing there at a loss of words.

In short, his ego grew a lot bigger after the initial shock wore off. He started to use such tactics in harmless arguments, before he just used them randomly to tease you. And lucky for him, it worked every damn time. He is sure you already texted every single encounter like this to your dear friend – and he is dying to know if his theory is true – but he won‘t check your phone again, simply too scared at the same time.

On the other hand, you are secretly enjoying it. No, loving it. What do you mean your hot roommate flirts with you randomly for no reason? You would never trade that for anything else.

The same thing happens on a casual saturday, leaning over the kitchen counter as you scroll through some new recipes on your phone. Jason walks in through the front door, ever so silent that you don‘t notice him coming in, before you hear his soft voice mumble near your ear.

»Watcha cooking?« His hand rests on the counter by your side, dangerously close for your own comfort. But you wont back away or say anything against it, answering him back instead.

»Nothing yet. Looking through stuff.«

He hums in acknowledgement, resting his chin on your shoulder while he watches your phone too.

»Wanna cook something together, then? I brought some groceries.« His hand brushes against your side as he leans away, starting to sort through the bag and put the stuff away that he bought.

After an easy agreement, you both settle on making something simple for dinner, not wanting to waste your energy on something new.

Cooking with him would be relaxing, if his hand wouldn‘t linger around your back or waist every minute. You grew used to it after some time, but it still never fails to make you slightly distracted on your current task.

In general, you noticed that Jason became way more touchy with you after the incident, as well as teasing. You try not mentioning it and simply never talk about it in hopes this will never end, but he secretly wishes you would.

He made a single masterplan in his mind on ultimately asking you out once you start to mention his antics, but there‘s no luck so far. Okay, guitly as charged, he did talk about that with his brother Dick. He follows his advice half-heartedly, hoping for some miracle to happen at the same time until you notice his signs.

←MASTERLIST

[dollyonm0lly]

THINKING ABOUTTT

caracalla lusting after getas wife, crying because he can‘t have her and finally going to geta to propose having her marry him aswell

at first geta is against it because you‘re HIS property and sharing with his whiny stupid brother makes him angry but eventually he caves in

„but we can take turns“ caracalla whines and cries until geta gives in, the thought kind of entices him 👀

and you‘re absolutely not pleased, caracalla freaks you out but now you have to obey him aswell

TW: kinda of noncon, crazy Caracalla.

“This is a bad idea" is what you don't say, but it shows in your gaze as your eyes meet Geta's, he being a little further away from the bed where you are sitting, making it a little difficult to see him clearly in the partially dark room, only lit by the ambiance outside of the windows. Your eyes now wander towards the brother closest to you, Caracalla, who is standing in front of you, you try to ignore him, fix your head in the same position and keep it that way, your attention only on his detailed robe so close to you.

“She defies me” - Caracalla says to the wind, there is no immediate response, and you can't detect what the mood of his voice could be, neutral, perhaps? There are moments with Caracalla when you can feel all his emotions, he screams, cries, reacts violently and impulsively, and there are times when it seems like there is nothing... Nothing, you haven't felt anything of what might be coming now, what emotion he will show you next, and that scares you. He scares you. And when you feel a strange hand coming towards your face, unfamiliar, you don't think twice about dodging it, your head slightly hesitating back, running away.

You can feel your face sweating from the tension in the room, and you know you've screwed yourself after running from your Emperor's grasp. You hold still, your hands clenching the fabric of your dress, your knuckles white with the intensity of your grip. - "Stay still for him, dear” - You can hear Geta say in the distance, your heart immediately tightens in your chest in a feeling of betrayal, however, you don't seem to be the only one reacting badly to his words.

“Stop bossing her around, you're too bossy and I'm tired of it, and... And I talked to you about it! You said you'd share control over her, so stop trying to talk for me” - You hear Caracalla complain to his brother, his voice still a bit too steady for the stiff way he said them, you can see in your peripheral vision how he clench his own hands into fists as he speaks, and it doesn't help your nervousness one bit. Geta doesn't offer him an answer.

“Take off your clothes” - The older brother says as he turns his attention back to you, he seems to want to take on a commanding tone, but when you listen a little better to the edges of it, you can hear a slight whimper of a sulking child in the background of his words, as if he is begging you to obey him, and that, that is never a good sign with Caracalla.

You hesitate again, not moving a muscle. You feel numb, lost.

“WHY ARE YOU NOT OBEYING ME? WHY ARE YOU PRETENDING NOT TO LISTEN TO ME? I TOLD YOU TO TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES. WHY ARE YOU STILL IN PLACE? ARE YOU STUPID? STUPID, STUPID, STUPID” - There it is, what you hate the most, the screaming and the crying, the way he freaks out, and you are the target of it now, you feel a burning disgust in your body for your husband, you look for him in the room, and when your eyes meet, Caracalla notices, and misunderstands the situation - “Why... Why are you looking at him?? ARE YOU SEEKING AUTHORIZATION FROM HIM? I AM EMPEROR TOO! DO YOU FORGET? DOES EVERYONE FORGET? IS GETA EMPEROR ALONE? HE IS THE ONE EVERYONE LISTENS TO, EVERYONE PLEASES, EVERYONE RESPECTS…” - The older brother screams and screams in your face, and eventually, you can start to hear the strangled sobs in his voice, he's crying now and curling up in himself, you try not to roll your eyes at the crybaby in front of you, and you even think about talking back to him, when you're interrupted.

“Fuck it, just stand still then, stupid” - You hear him say in a harsh tone, and soon after, you feel his rough hand grab your entire face, throwing you back on the bed until your head hits the mattress. He climbs on top of you, and with so much access and advantage over your body, he begins to forcefully undress you, tearing the delicate nightgown of your body, throwing what are now rags to the bedroom floor, you scream and try to hide yourself with your hands, but it does little good when you see the excitement in the Emperor's eyes above you - “You are so beautiful, so beautiful, so beautiful, I'm so happy, brother! She is perfect” - He repeats, like a kid in a candy store, he examines you all over, forcing the hands that previously protected you from his intrusive gaze against the bed, holding you down, you squirm and try to kick him, but his weight on top of you makes your struggle more difficult.

“Make her feel good, brother, soon she will be less wary of you" - Geta says as he leaves the shadows from which he watched the whole scene, approaching the bed to sit on it, you hate the way his words treat you like an animal, how his eyes seem hungrier watching his brother attack you than when it's just the two of you alone, how his hand still dares to try to caress your face affectionately, resting it on top of your head like he always does. You feel like you could vomit right now. He senses it - “Her breasts are sensitive, why don't you try?" - He suggests, licking his lips in anticipation, watching his brother nod.

Caracalla still seems a little dizzy admiring your body, his own trembles with satisfaction just from seeing you, from feeling you so close, your eyes, your mouth, your skin, your smell, everything about you calls out to him, he can feel his body warmer than normal and his eyes fall as if he had never slept in his life, it feels like a dream. He pants through his mouth, seeming to prepare himself, slowly lowering, as if not to scare you, as if he doesn't scare you just by existing, his eyes never stray from yours, nor yours from his, what you think is rebellion on your part, he takes as affection.

At his first contact with your breasts, you feel a weak moan leave your lips, not yet prepared, seeming to forget that you should contain yourself, that you hate him, he leaves kisses down the center of your chest, slowly leading them to your left breast, kisses all over, and then to the right, kisses all over, he seems strangely affectionate compared to the outburst from seconds ago, he takes his tongue out, showing it off quite a bit to your suspicious eyes, and takes it to one of your nips, circling it, testing the waters, and reciprocating positively when you moan even with your lips closed. He closes his eyes as if enjoying a feast, let his tongue travel over you, and licks soon turn into sucking, it doesn't seem enough for him, he needs more, much more, he needs to have your entire breast in his mouth and suck it as if his life depends on it, release it with an audible 'pop' and then, go to the other one. And that he does.

Minutes seem like hours, you moan and moan, and not only you, you hear Caracalla moan as much, seeming to feel more pleasure in sucking your breasts than you in having them sucked, he pants and growls against them, bites them, and makes it seem as if he is not even stopping to breathe, too busy admiring your body as if to him you were God, he can't hold himself back, he has wanted this for so long, you were everything to him, still are, he can't believe he deprived himself of touching you for so long. You can feel him humping pathetically against one of your legs, his erection still under his red robe, he doesn't even care, he cries with pleasure as if he is already inside you, as if just rubbing himself like a dog against your thigh was a blessing, you can hear the cries and sobs again, the little whimpers, but now he seems to be in heaven on Earth.

“Make my brother happy, moan his name, dear” - You hear Geta whisper in your ear just for you alone to hear, something malicious and perverse in his voice, he seems to be entertaining himself watching, you can't see him well where you're lying, you wish you could, you wish you could see if he's touching himself by the image of his brother defiling you, you wish he'd bend down and capture your lips with his, you wish you could suck him off and bring him the satisfaction his brother is feeling at the moment. But the only thing you get are caresses in your hair, on your forehead, like a puppy that has done well.

“Ca- Caracalla…” - You say in a weak moan, uncertain of your own words, even as he begins to make you wet between your legs. You don't feel like yourself when the words leave your mouth, and maybe you've been out of your own body for a long time, you just hadn't realized it. You feel him writhe and moan in gratitude as he hears his name come out of your mouth, something wet smearing your leg. It doesn't take you long to realize that the sticky stuff is coming from Caracalla's robe, he's cumming inside his own clothes, just by humping himself against you. Next, you feel your chest wet, more tears probably, since you can hear him sniffling below you.

You unconsciously rest a hand on Caracalla's head, closing your own eyes.

[revelboo]

Hello. Your stories are beautiful. Can I ask you write something with Optimus Prime IDW? Thank you very much in advance. ^^

Sure

Gravity Pt 7

IDW Optimus x Reader

• You’re dancing again and he watches from the corner of his optic as he works, one foot sliding sideways before you shift your weight and spin. Servos stilling on his keyboard, he rumbles softly. Likes to watch you move, the way you can twist and bend like you’re boneless. And you catch him watching, flashing your little teeth at him with a laugh. “When I was a kid, my mom was obsessed with living out her dumb ballerina dreams through me,” you say, arms above your head. “Bet she’s rolling in her grave that I ended up an exotic dancer.”

• “Exotic?” He asks and he’s so innocent, it’s sweet. Running through the moves helps you relax, gives your worry and tension an outlet. You wonder what the big guy would think of you if you actually explain it to him, your slide from rebellious teenager to desperate adult. Because working in that dump was only the latest in a string of bad decisions. Every attempt you make to claw your way out of the gutter only driving home that maybe that’s where you belong. You’d resigned yourself to it, gotten tougher and blunter out of necessity, but somehow you can’t make yourself tell him that. He’s just this pinnacle of good and right. And he might not touch you so kindly or at all if he knew how awful you really are. “You were alone?” He asks when you don’t respond. Worrying over you like he always does.

• Blowing out a breath, you rake your fingers through your hair to send it into disarray and stare up at him. Little teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you wave a hand at him. “Don’t worry about it, big guy,” you tell him, but your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “I can take care of myself.” You can, but still. You’re his to care for and protect, but he won’t pry or push. Hopes you’ll open up to him eventually. Entrust your burdens to him.

• Reaching out slowly as if giving you the option to avoid his touch, he hovers a servo just in front of you and you lean into it, wrapping your arms around that big digit. “I know you can, but I’ll still here if you need me,” he says and the that deep, rumbling voice rolls through you. Makes you realize that you’ve stopped plotting escape or even looking for an opportunity. That you don’t want to go back to your old life. There’s no one left to care for you or even notice that you’ve disappeared except your creditors anyway. Sure, Optimus is only invested in you to keep his own people safe and out of a weird sense of honor, but you want to pretend he really cares. That you belong here and that this time home won’t be ripped out of your fingers.

• “Sure,” you say, little arms hugging his servo and the feel of your heart beating against him. So small, but you try so hard to be independent. Not asking him for anything, even though he’d try to find you whatever you need to be happy. Smiling all the time like you are now, even though it’s brittle. Pretending nothing touches you, when he can tell it does. And all he can do is wait for you to trust him. To really talk to him, because until then he’ll hoard those details of your past that you accidentally let slip.

Previous

[shybluebirdninja]

FADING BONDS: PART 3

Summary: Two broken souls—Logan, an aging hero, and a young woman overlooked by her own family—find solace in each other’s silent company, forming an unexpected connection that challenges their emotional walls.

Pairing            : UberDriver!Logan x Fem!Reader

Genre              : Angst, Fluff

You stand outside his door, your hands trembling from the fight you just had with your parents. Your chest is tight, each breath feels like a struggle, and all you want is to disappear. But instead, you find yourself here, at his place—Logan’s place.

The door creaks open, and there he is, standing there with that rough, weathered look. His eyes are sharp, like always, but there's something softer in them tonight. He sees you, really sees you. It's different. No questions. No judgments.

“What's up?” he says, voice gravelly and tired, like he hasn’t slept in days.

He scratches at the scruff on his chin, like this isn’t anything out of the ordinary. Like he doesn’t mind you showing up at his door, looking like you've been through hell.

“I... I just needed a place to go,” you manage to get out, your voice shaky, barely above a whisper.

You don’t know what you’re doing here. Hell, he probably doesn’t know either, but there’s nowhere else to be. Nowhere that feels safe.

He steps aside, his hand gripping the door just a little too tight, knuckles white like he’s holding something back. “Yeah. Come in.”

You walk past him, and the smell of cigarettes and old whiskey hits you—familiar, oddly comforting. The place is a mess, but it suits him. Scattered bottles, a couple of plates on the table. Nothing fancy, just... survival.

He doesn’t say anything as you sit on the couch, your legs barely supporting you anymore. You’re trying not to cry, but your throat’s burning. Everything’s been a mess. Your life, your family... they just don’t get it. They don’t get you.

For a while, there’s nothing but silence between you two. It's heavy, but it's the kind of silence you can breathe in, where you don’t have to pretend.

“I had a fight,” you say, the words falling out of your mouth before you can stop them. “With my family. Again. They just... they don’t see me. Like, at all.”

Logan doesn’t look at you right away. He stares at the floor, his hands resting on his knees.

“Families are... tricky,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, like he's been through this conversation a thousand times before.

“Yeah, tricky,” you laugh bitterly. “They see my sister. She’s everything they wanted. Me? I’m... I’m just in the way.” You pause, wiping away the tear that managed to escape. “I feel like I don’t belong anywhere.”

Logan lets out a sigh, a deep one that sounds like it’s coming from years of holding shit in.

“Charles and Caliban used to say I belonged. I didn’t believe them. Never really felt like I fit anywhere. Even with the X-Men.” He chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Guess it don’t matter now. They’re all gone.”

The room feels colder after he says that. Charles... Caliban... they were more than just names to him. You can see it in the way his eyes darken, how his fists tighten like he’s trying to hold onto something that slipped away a long time ago.

You reach out, your fingers brushing against his hand. It’s an instinct, but it feels like the right one. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t flinch. Just stares down at your hand on his, his skin rough and calloused from years of fighting, from losing.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, because what else can you say?

He looks up at you, and for the first time, you see the cracks in his armor, the vulnerability he’s been hiding behind that gruff exterior.

“Don’t be,” he says softly, voice breaking just a little. “We’re all broken in some way.”

The room’s too quiet again. The kind of quiet that makes you feel everything at once.

And then, before you even realize what’s happening, you’re crying. Really crying. The kind of sobs that shake your whole body, the ones you’ve been holding back for too long. You don’t even know if it’s about your family or him or yourself—maybe all of it.

Logan shifts closer, hesitant, unsure, but then his hand is on your back, rubbing slow circles like he’s trying to comfort you, but he’s just as lost in this moment as you are. He’s not used to this—comforting anyone, being close to anyone.

“You’re not alone,” he says, voice almost a whisper now, like he’s saying it more to himself than to you.

His hand moves to your face, his thumb wiping away the tears. It’s the gentlest thing he’s ever done, and it hits you hard, how soft he can be when the world’s been nothing but cruel to him.

In that moment, something shifts. You look up at him, your faces inches apart. There's a rawness between you two, a vulnerability you both desperately need but are too scared to fully accept.

Before you can second-guess it, you lean forward, and your lips meet his.

It’s not passionate, not desperate. It’s fragile, almost broken, like two people who’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel something real.

His hand cups your cheek, and for a second, you feel safe. Like maybe, this world hasn’t chewed you up and spit you out completely yet.

When you pull back, you see it in his eyes—he’s as scared as you are. Scared to feel, scared to need. But here you are, in this broken moment, both of you barely holding on.

Neither of you says anything. There’s nothing left to say. But in that silence, you find something you hadn’t in a long time—a reason to stay.

[kindalonely-ngl]

Hello and good day everyone, especially LADS creative writers and fanfic blogs. Hear me out...

Sylus x personal chef!reader

Yes.

The man is expensive. Even his taste buds is expensive. His expensive tongue deserves to taste only exquisite and out of this world quality meal. Let's say, he has yet to have a personal chef in his mansion. So he's in search for his very own personal chef who can satisfy his taste buds after too many experienced chefs from Michelin star restaurants and expert cooks wasted his time with disappointing meals.

Until he and the twins stumbled across a humble shop located at the secluded part of the N109 Zone. The shop is owned and operated by an old couple with their young granddaughter (reader). After an extremely exhausting week, Sylus wants nothing more than a simple warm meal to replenish his energy and the twins are eager to tag along. Sylus isn't expecting much after seeing a young lady cooking in the open kitchen. But what a surprise, he enjoys her cooking so much that he immediately hires her and offers her a good pay, more than enough to help her family/debt/business/study etc.

Since the fateful encounter, Sylus now is more than delighted to have her in his mansion cooking for him some warm meals, and she is happy earning those paychecks although sometimes Sylus annoys her too much with his challenging meal requests.

I can see it go straight fluffy and heartwarming situation and playful situation. Headcanons, oneshot, shortfic, longfic, anything. It's up to you, dear writers! Everyone is free to use the idea. I will tag some blogs here and if you're not interested to write this then feel free to ignore this post! No pressure ❤💋

@plutotheplum @connorsui @syluslnd @jinwoosbabyboo @manikas-whims @syluss-littlecrow @sushiyuzu @tbaluver @shomatoriashi @chuluoyi @d0rothydraws @comatosebunny09 @amazinglyashy @lemonlover1110 @fortunekookie07 @yourstrulysylus @chibichibi-mia @chaos-in-deepspace @ramonathinks @cloudwisp @shouyuus

I've been putting off my thesis and trying to run away from it by busying myself with new hobby. And I recently found myself enjoying cooking and experimenting around recipes. Not gonna lie, I've been romanticizing home- cooked meal this past month ✋🏻😩. Is this the beginning of my trad-daughter era? Is this a scientifically proven effect of staying at home for too long? Should I stop pretending like I'm gonna focus 100% on my thesis and get a job again? Idk.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

proclivity - pt. five - I know the end

✯ pairing:

ex!bff!rafe cameron x diabetic!kook!fem!reader

✯ summary:

at one point in time rafe was your best friend. can summer romance erase all the damage he's done?

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, heartbreak, diabetes lingo, injury, ghosting, fluff and fear, domestic violence (not rafe), mean!ex!jj etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity and i have rewritten + reshared it here :) trying out a new format with this post, hope you like it!

You didn’t talk to Rafe until Wednesday when he texted you before your shift. 

R: can’t wait to see you, pretty girl :) 

Y: me too <3

You wanted to tell him everything so badly, about JJ showing up and everything you went through with him, but you couldn’t do that over the phone. There was no telling what he'd do when he found out. So you waited. You got to the Club before him on Wednesday, clocking in and tending to your tables, which were already full. It was going to be a busy night and usually you would welcome that, it helped pass the time. But, not today. Today, all you wanted was to talk to Rafael. 

You were busy with one of your tables when he walked in. He admired the black cocktail uniform that clung to your body and the way your hair hung in its low ponytail. He felt lucky to know you, to get to watch as you interacted with your regular customers, always kind, no matter the circumstances. You didn’t do it because you had to, you did it because that’s just who you were. You flirted with your eyes as you spotted him and he returned it, a small smile lacing his features. It was thirty minutes before you could get away from your tables due to the dinner rush, but Rafe made a point to stay at the bar until he got a chance to speak to you. Even though looking at you was always enough, he wanted to hear your sweet voice in his ears. 

“Rafael.” 

You whispered into his ear, blowing in it, as you came up behind him. It sent shivers down his spine. 

“Hey, pretty girl.” 

He replied with a smile on his face, finally hearing that voice, that sound he had been craving. You slowly made your way behind the bar so you could stand in front of him and look at his handsome face. Rafe and handsome have always been synonymous words in your brain, but he didn’t need to know that. You quickly got to work, making a drink. A Tequila sunrise. It was your favorite to make, mostly because of how pretty the hues of orange and pink were, hence its name. You sat it in front of Rafe. 

“I didn’t order this-”

“It’s on the house.” 

You replied, winking at him. 

“Well what is it? It looks girly.” 

He chuckled. 

“It’s my favorite. Just try it.” 

You giggled at him and he sipped it slowly. His face shriveled up as the familiar taste of way too much tequila hit his lips. 

“Jesus, Y/n, who taught you how to mix drinks? This is awful.” 

His comment made you chuckle heartily. 

“That would be you, Rafael.” 

He grinned cheekily as he recalled the first time he asked you to make him a margarita, which you failed miserably at, prompting him to teach you how. You had never really mastered the skill of mixing drinks, but he pretended you were okay at it to appease you. Rafe was brought out of his thoughts as he watched your body tense up. He wondered if he had said or did the wrong thing and then he followed your eyes, as they landed on JJ who was across the room with Kiara, sitting in your section. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”

You whispered, hoping Rafe wouldn’t hear you. He reached out, grazing your hand with his fingertips as you vigorously wiped down the wood of the bar. 

“You want me to beat him up, again?” 

Rafe questioned innocently and you chuckled. 

“No, he’s not worth it.” 

“He is if you’re upset.” 

Rafe stated, matter-of-factly.

“It’s not that, it’s just he knows this is my section and he sat in it on purpose. They just want to torture me like it’s not bad enough he slept with my best friend.”

The sadness that laced your voice made Rafe’s chest tight. 

“Go take care of your tables and I’ll be right here the whole time. You just put your hand behind your back and ball up a fist if you need me, okay?” 

You nodded, thankful Rafe chose today of all days to be here. You slowly but surely made your way from behind the bar and headed to the Carrera’s table. 

“Hey guys! How are you?” 

The Carerra’s faces lit up at seeing you. They had no idea why you hadn’t been coming around or the way their daughter had betrayed you. It wasn’t their fault she was a bitch and you weren’t going to punish them for it. 

“Hey, sweet girl! We miss you. Where have you been?” 

Kiara’s mom asked. She was an angel and always had been and you loved her. 

“Just working.”

You gave your ex-best friend’s parents a tight lipped smile. Kiara’s eyes were apologetic even though she had never said she was sorry for what she had done. 

“Well, we miss you. You should come see us soon!” 

Mr. Carerra spoke up. 

“I will. So what can I get you guys?” 

“JJ and I will have two bacon cheeseburgers and a basket of fries to share.” 

Kiara spoke with a cheeky smile, flaunting the consolation prize of her betrayal, a piece of shit pogue boy who is going nowhere. You had never had a problem with the Pogues until you had become one and they all betrayed you by covering up JJ’s infidelity. The Pogues were poison, just like Rafe had warned you all those years ago. 

“I’m gonna hit the head.” 

JJ muttered, surely feeling awkward about Kiara’s incessant need to be a show off. She wasn’t always this awful and you weren’t sure when she had taken a turn for the worst. 

“What about you, Mike?”

You questioned Mr. Carerra. 

“I’ll take the 15 oz ribeye. Medium rare with potatoes and green beans.” 

“Yes, sir. That sounds amazing!” 

You reply with faux enthusiasm.

“You’ll have to pull up a chair with us and grab a bite to eat.” 

He spoke, his kind gesture making your heart melt. 

“I definitely will if I can go on my break soon.” 

You smiled at him. 

“And for you, Anna?” 

You questioned Kiara’s mother. 

“I’ll do the chef salad with ranch, dear. I’d also love a small side of the mac and cheese.” 

She smiled softly, you missed the warmth that you felt when she smiled at you.

“You got it, I’ll be right back with the food. Can I get you guys anything to drink?” 

You asked.

“Just make sweet tea for all of us, sweetheart.” 

Anna spoke kindly and you nodded. 

Rafe watched as you made your way back to the kitchen to make their drinks and put the order in. After a few minutes he began to get a little worried, his radar for you always on high alert. For some reason it was taking you a long time to come back to him and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. That’s when he saw it, JJ Maybank had you cornered in the hallway of the dining room. He stayed back though, knowing you’d give him your signal if you needed help. Rafe was always very protective of you but he always tried to let you fight your own battles. Mostly because once when he defended you in the third grade by beating up the boy who was teasing you, you kicked him in the balls and let him know that you were your own hero. That was the day he realized he loved you. He smiled at the memory of your pigtails and the redness of your cheeks. Then, suddenly, Rafe was brought out of his thoughts at hearing bits and pieces of the venomous words JJ was speaking to you and he sprung into action as he saw your fist balled up behind your back. He made his way over to you, half-running, his protective nature overcoming his logical thinking. 

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay?” 

He watched you as you visibly relaxed under his presence, knowing there was no way JJ could hurt you in Rafe’s presence. 

“Hey, Rafey-” 

You were cut off by JJ’s sneer. 

“Everything was perfectly fine until you fucking interrupted our conversation.” 

JJ spat in Rafe's direction.

“I clearly wasn’t asking you douchebag, I was asking her.” 

Rafe responded nonchalantly. You could feel the anger emanating from him, his chest warm on your back, but he was holding back. You knew he was doing it for you. If that didn't prove he wasn't the same rafe you used to know, you didn't know what did.

“Right and here I was thinking you were calling me sweetheart.” 

JJ spoke sarcastically. His sarcasm you used to find endearing, charming even, and now, it just made him more of a dick.

“What a shame JJ. Are you regretting losing my girl, that’s why you got her cornered in a dark hallway. Is Kie not enough for you?” 

And - there it was. Rafe’s tone was laced with danger and he willed JJ to use his words correctly before he killed him with his bare hands. 

“Your girl?! I’m not regretting anything if you must fucking know.” 

JJ spat, almost unable to control his emotions.

“I mean, no judgment at all dude, she’s easily the best girl on this island.” 

Rafe gave him a wink. He was a cocky little bastard when he wanted to be.

“Oh, you’d know, wouldn’t you? Haven’t you had every girl on the island?” 

JJ questioned. He was a real asshole when he wanted to be.

“Could say the same to you, you know since you're passing your dick around like it’s the community pool.” 

Rafe spit back.

“Rafael-”

You spoke softly, feeling the vibration of your glucose monitor go off. You didn’t feel right, something was wrong. You placed your hand limply around his bicep, urging him to back off and call it a day. 

“Rafael? Who the fuck is Rafael and why are you touching him like that?” 

JJ questioned, confusedly. 

“That would be me, big guy.” 

Rafe muttered, raising his two fingers like attendance was being taken in homeroom. 

“I-”

“You know what, if you must know, it’s none of your business how she touches me or how often she uses a nickname with me or how many times she’s kissed me.” 

Rafe growled.

“How many times she what-” 

The hurt and jealousy that laced JJ’s eyes was something you’d never seen before.

“Joseph-” 

You whispered Rafe’s middle name, which got his attention. You never called him Joseph, ever, and when he looked into your eyes he knew something was wrong. It clicked in his brain too late, as he felt you loosen your grip from his arm and he watched in horror as you hit the ground. Your head bounced off the carpet and you started convulsing violently. 

“Angel! No! No, no, no, no, no.” 

Rafe’s panicked voice echoed through the club as he yelled. 

“Turn her on her side! She’s having a diabetic seizure!” 

JJ interjected, yelling as he got down rolling you onto your side while Rafe stabilized your head. 

“JJ, call 911!” 

Rafe screeched.

“I’m on it!” 

He yelled as he ran to grab his phone from the table, meeting Kiara’s eyes as he ran quickly back to you and Rafe. 

“It’s okay, sweet, baby girl. You’re gonna be okay. I’m right here.” 

Rafe whispered as he counted the seconds until your body stopped convulsing. He was careful with your head, scared he’d hurt you or that you would have brain damage when you woke up. Kiara had followed JJ back to Rafe, curious as to why her boyfriend was so distressed. 

“J-”

Her voice faltered as she caught your unconscious form on the carpet of the country club. 

“What the fuck is this? Why are you helping her?!” 

She yelled in JJ’s direction, confusion and hurt, lacing her tone. 

“Kie-, please tell me you’re not so insecure that you care that he’s trying to help me save your best friend from dying right now.” 

Rafe growled in her direction and she made her way back to the table in tears. The ambulance got there quickly and immediately administered insulin and oxygen, which seemed to bring your vitals up. Rafe hopped in the back with you, not caring about leaving his truck at the club. He’d uber to get it later, once he knew you were okay. 

-

When you started to stir, the first thing you noticed was the smell of sterilization and the weight of something pricking the hand of your skin. You were in the hospital. Shit. Willing yourself to pry your eyes open, you slowly blinked, taking in a tall figure, reading a book beside you, one of his hands in yours. You coughed, your throat and mouth extremely dry. His blue eyes met yours and you registered who it was. Rafael. 

He stood up, making his way closer to you, standing over your head, in your line of vision. Rafe’s hands cupped your cheeks and he placed a kiss on your forehead before he spoke. 

“Hey, pretty girl. How are you feeling?” 

You tried to speak but your mouth was dry and then it dawned on you, your dad was going to kill you. You tried to sit up, which was a huge mistake as the movement shook your head a little too hard. Rafe pushed you back down by your shoulders. 

“Easy, Tiger.” 

He spoke softly, bringing a cup of water with a straw up to your lips, as he sat in front of you on the bed. You swallowed vigorously, like it was the first cup of water you’d had in ten years. 

“Slow down, baby.” 

He whispered in a sweet tone. You made eye contact with him after you decided you had enough of the beverage. 

“Rafe, what happened?” 

You questioned, confusedly.

“Your pump stopped working and you had a seizure from not getting your insulin.” 

You nodded your head in response, shock rittling your senses at his words. It shouldn’t have surprised you after how many times it had happened, but it did and it hurt your feelings every single one. 

“Will you lay with me?” 

You asked, as sweet as could be and he couldn't deny you.

“Of course, sweet girl.” 

Rafe crawled into the bed next to you, letting you cuddle into him and lay your head on his chest. His heartbeat brought you solace. He stroked your hair gently, his fingertips barely grazing the strands, and placed a kiss on your bandaged forehead. You had a concussion and some stitches from where you hit your head on the floor and he was as careful as possible when he placed the kiss, scared he’d hurt you. 

“Rafael, thank you for taking care of me and for being here.” 

You praised.

“Anything for you, baby. I’m always going to be here. You can count on that.” 

He smiled into your hairline, continuing to stroke it and you felt immense peace. You couldn’t tell what had changed or why, but you believed him with every fiber of your being. 

-

The next time you woke up, you were in Rafe’s arms, his soft snores infiltrating your ears and the aroma of the hospital room making its way into your nostrils. He had been at your beck and call for the last three days and he was tired, he needed the rest. You shifted your body, though careful not to move too quickly, afraid you’d wake him. Looking up at his sweet face, you traced your fingers down the bridge of his nose. How could one person be this perfect? You pondered. It was more than his chiseled jaw that you had always admired or his tan skin, he had begun to show you that he was a good man and that’s something you hadn’t seen in him in a long time, maybe ever. It made you love him in a way that you never had. A soft knock on the door took you out of your thoughts and you were praying to God that whoever it was wouldn’t wake up the giant man sleeping soundly next to you. Then, you saw brown hair with highlights peek through the crack of the door and you realized it was Topper. He peeked his head all the way through the door, and a bright smile littered his face. Kelce followed his lead, as he knocked softly again, making sure it was okay to come through the threshold of the hospital room. 

“Knock, knock.” 

He whispered and was surprised when he was met with your eyes instead of Rafe’s. 

“Shh.” 

You spoke, motioning your pointer finger to your lips in an attempt to keep him quiet. Seeing Rafe so still and soft, in an almost childlike state while sleeping was enough to make you swoon and you wanted him to stay this way as long as possible. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be the one resting?” 

Topper teased as he brought a balloon that read “it’s a girl!” to your bedside. It made you giggle. 

“Sorry, they ran out of “Sorry you have diabetes” balloons.” 

Kelce quipped. Your giggle was now a full-fledged belly laugh. "These two idiots!", you thought. As your laugh erupted from your stomach, Rafe began to stir, shifting his weight in the small bed. You lifted your hand, running your fingertips softly through the hair that was now hanging in his face. He nestled his face into your shoulder, curling his long legs into his stomach. There’s no way he’s comfortable, you thought. But you also didn’t have the heart to wake him. 

“I want him to sleep as long as possible, he’s been up for days worrying about me.” 

You spoke flatly and the boys understood the sentiment of your words. They cared deeply for both of you. 

“When are they saying you’ll be able to go home?” 

Kelce probed, wanting you to feel as normal as possible as soon as possible. 

“This afternoon, I think.” 

He placed his hand on your shoulder. 

“That’s good, pretty girl. You know he’s not going to leave your side, right?” 

You playfully rolled your eyes. 

“Yeah, the same way you two were the last time.” 

You joked.

“The last time you almost died. This isn’t that.” 

Topper’s tone was cold and he didn’t mean it to be, but he didn’t understand your calm, cool, and collected nature when it came to such traumatic events with your health. The room grew eerily silent and you were the first to break it. 

“Let’s not talk about that in front of Rafe, okay?” 

Both boys simply nodded their heads in response, understanding of your wishes. Topper and Kelce stayed for about an hour before deciding to go. Rafe stirred awake not long after they had departed from the room.

“Pretty girl. What time is it?” 

He asked, his eyes fluttering open to see yours staring up at him. His voice was gruff and sexy like only boys can be when they’ve first woken up.

“Well, good morning handsome. It’s 1pm.” 

You responded with a light chuckle.

“Gosh, How long have I been asleep?” 

“Since last night around 11.” 

He nodded his head, his still sleepy response was noted by you. 

“Did someone come to visit or did I dream about that?” 

You giggled, placing your hand on his cheek softly, rubbing your thumb back and forth underneath his eye. 

“It wasn't a dream, Topper and Kelce were here this morning.” 

You whispered sweetly, bringing your hands up to his hair, stroking lightly. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” 

His eyebrows furrowed as he asked the question.

“You needed the sleep, Rafael. You’ve been awake, worrying about me for the last three days and that won’t do either of us any good.” 

He brought your chin up with his thumb and pointer finger, wanting your eyes to meet his, and placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“It’s my job to worry about you.” 

-

You were discharged from the hospital not long after Rafe had woken up, which you kind of despised, you wished he would’ve stayed asleep and gotten as much rest as he needed. The past few days had taken a toll on him and they would have taken a toll on anybody. No one wakes up and expects the girl they love to have a seizure and be put in the hospital. He had never seen you this fragile and that thought alone ate him alive. He hated that he couldn’t do anything to protect you from this. This wasn’t some mouthy pogue or a handsy touron he could punch out and call it a day, nestling you safely into his arms after disposing of the threat. This was an illness, a disease, that no one had control over, that no one could predict and even the best safety measures couldn’t protect you from a failing insulin pump. That part of it destroyed him. But the part of it that didn’t was seeing you be strong through all of it. You made jokes at your own expense, which was how you coped. You had done that for years with a lot of things. You did it the day you got your braces on when you were afraid of how Rafe would perceive your new appearance. Spoiler alert: he thought you were beautiful. You did it when your grandma died and when your parents fought and even when JJ cheated on you. The only thing you had never done it about was Rafe. His absence was the only thing that hurt too bad to joke about. He admired the fact that you could joke about your illness and how annoyed you got when he fussed over you, especially today, as he was driving you to his house from the hospital. When they had wheeled you out of the front doors of the hospital, Rafe gently lifted your body with his strong arms and placed you into the passenger seat of his truck. He made sure you were comfortable before lacing his hands through the seatbelt, stretching it across your body and buckling you in, the familiar click as the extender and the buckle met filtering through the car.  

“Rafe, I can buckle myself. My arms are in perfect working condition.” 

You scoffed, his incessant need to take care of you getting on your nerves. 

“I know you can. Just let me dote on you today, okay?” 

His voice was almost pleading. You gave him a reassuring nod, knowing that this is what he needed at the moment, even if you didn’t. You smiled, you loved this soft side of him, but eventually, it'd have to stop. Diabetes was something you’d been dealing with on your own for years. You didn’t need the hovering or the constant worry from your brown-haired, blue-eyed lover. You needed him to know you were strong and capable, not this weak damsel in distress he thought you were. You decided you would give it a day and have a conversation with him if it hadn’t stopped by the end of the week. As he made sure you were okay, he made his way to the driver’s side and started the truck, heading for Tannyhill. Your parents were in Thailand for business and couldn’t get back in time for you to be discharged, which you were thankful for. You didn’t need the wrath of your father right now, your brain and body still too tired from the trauma they endured. Rafe had told your mother you could stay at Tannyhill until they got home, which would be a week from today and he couldn’t help but be excited at having you this close for this long. You fell asleep on the ride home to Rafe’s, the slinging of gravel under his tires making you stir, as he pulled to the front of the house. He quickly got out and made his way to your side of the car, opening your door and unbuckling you, before lifting you in his arms once more and carrying you inside. The shift in your surroundings made you groan. 

“Mmmm.” 

You grunted out, Rafe’s lips turned up in a smile. 

“Hey, sweet girl, you’re okay. We’re home. I’m gonna take you to bed.” 

He whispered in your ear. 

“Mmmm, Rafey.” 

You said it like his name was the yummiest thing your tongue had ever tasted, a sleepy smile plastered on your face. As he opened the door, you felt yourself wanting to fight, wanting to prove to him you could do it yourself, but your body was too tired to try and argue with the comforting embrace of the boy you loved. You took in the smell of him as you heard him telling his family not to talk above a whisper while making his way through the living room. He smelled like sea salt, whiskey, and expensive cologne - a familiar smell for many reasons, it reminded you of home, the island, the stupid pretentious parties, and the ocean you’d grown to love the sight of. However, it reminded you of home because he was stitched in every memory of you being in these places, in this atmosphere. The smell was bliss, the smell was Rafe. 

“Please if you talk to her or around her, talk in a whisper. She’s got a concussion and ten stitches on her forehead. If she’s in a room, the lights need to be off, at least until tomorrow.” 

Rafe whisper-yelled over your half-asleep form, to his family before walking up the stairs. 

“Don’t worry, son. We got it. We’ve dealt with a concussion before.” 

Ward giggled because his son had had six concussions in his football career, they knew very well how to take care of one, but Rafe’s protective nature shined through and allowed him to forget that. He loved that his son cared this deeply for another person, there was a time when he wondered if he ever would. 

Rafe slowly but surely carried you up the stairs to his bedroom, laying you down in his usual resting place, which was the comfiest place on the mattress. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible. Luckily, you were dressed in cozy clothes so he didn’t have to wake you. Instead, he brought the blankets under your chin and slid in next to you, falling asleep fast as he clung to your small frame. 

-

When you woke the next morning, Rafe was no longer next to you, which made you curious, so you made your way out of bed and slowly peered down the hallway. There was no sign of him in the bathroom or any of the bedrooms upstairs. You peered eerily over the edge of the staircase banister, looking for any sign of him. 

“Rafael” 

You called out and he came barreling up the stairs from around the corner in the kitchen. You admired him in his domestic form, basketball shorts, t-shirt, and messy hair. A still sleepy smile danced across his face as he took in the sight of you. He hadn’t been awake very long. 

“Pretty girl, good morning.” 

He spoke with a smile, making his way up to you, and placing a kiss on your hairline. 

“What are you doing out of bed?” 

He questioned.

“I couldn’t find you” 

You brought your lips to a pout and it sent a shiver down his spine. He loved that you wanted to be so close to him. You were enamored by everything that he was and you couldn’t get enough. 

“You want some coffee? I made your favorite.” 

You were confused. How could he possibly know what your favorite coffee is? You had been not speaking for the last two years, there was no way he had made you the right thing.

“Which would be what?” 

You questioned, confusion lacing your face. 

“White chocolate mocha with ½ and ½ instead of milk and an extra shot of white chocolate.” 

“Rafe, how did you know?” 

“I’ve just paid attention and it helps that you’ve had the same coffee order since we were 13.” 

He joked and you gushed internally, your core became warm at his sentiment, leaving you flustered and on edge. 

“Rafael, that’s so sweet, thank you.” 

You whispered as you pulled him in for a tight hug. 

“Let’s go downstairs and get you that coffee.” 

He spoke sweetly and you followed him down the staircase. When you had made it to the kitchen, you noted that Rafe had all kinds of coffee and syrups lining the island, where he was topping your cup off with whipped cream. It was a surprise that Rafe was an actual coffee drinker, not a poser who orders the closest thing to a milkshake he can find at every coffee shop. Rafe pulled a barstool out for you to sit on from underneath the island and helped you onto it before sliding it close to the edge of the countertop. 

“Rafael, when did you become such a coffee whore?” 

You asked innocently, not realizing how funny the remark was. Rafe let out a belly laugh. 

“Uh, my mom got me into drinking it right before she passed. It was something I clung to when she died. The warmth of a good cup of coffee reminds me of her hugs.” 

He spoke with a smile. 

“Well, now I feel like an asshole.” 

You muttered, a grimace on your face. 

“What do you mean? Why?” 

 “I thought you were going to have some douchey frat boy response. Like, you started drinking it to get a girl’s attention or something.” 

Rafe chuckled at you being so taken aback by him. 

“No, I’m not that guy anymore.” 

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that.” 

You mumbled what you thought was quietly, but evidently not quiet enough, as Rafe’s eyes went wide at your confession. 

“Let me take you on a date today.” 

He spoke softly, timidness dancing across his body language. You smiled at him brightly and when he looked at his feet, waiting for you to tell him no, you lifted his chin with your thumb and pointer finger. 

“Hey, don’t do that.” 

“Sorry-”

“No, I mean, don’t go to the bad place in your head. Everything’s fine, baby. I thought you’d never ask.” 

He smiled as widely as he could. 

“Okay, well let’s get some food in your stomach and then we’ll get ready and make a day out of it. Do you feel okay enough for that?” 

“Yeah, I feel fine. But, what do you mean? Where are you taking me?” 

You looked confused. You had never really been on a real date, JJ didn’t have very much money, which was never an issue for you. You didn’t mind paying for whatever the two of you did. But, even still he lacked romance and creativity. There was never a movie date or a day at the beach, just the two of you. It was all about the Pogues all the time and that was one of the many reasons you didn’t miss him. 

“That I cannot reveal yet, sweetheart.” 

He smiled cheekily and it made your heart warm. You were excited and you knew Rafe wasn’t going to disappoint. Rafe Cameron wasn’t known for romance, yet you believed he had something special up his sleeves. He made eggs, bacon, and toast with jelly, which was your favorite kind of breakfast. You appreciated how thoughtful he was. After you finished eating, he asked you to go get dressed and pack a bag. 

“Did you get enough to eat, sweetheart?” 

He questioned, always aware of the sugar demon that lived inside your bloodstream now. Apart from worrying about your sugar, he just wanted to make sure you were full, which you appreciated. 

“Yes, Rafael. I’m full.” 

You smiled in his direction, before hopping off the barstool and heading upstairs to take a shower, wanting to look your best for your date with him. 

“Do you mind picking out my clothes since I’m not allowed to know what we’re doing?” 

You questioned, turning around as you reached the bottom of the staircase, meeting his blue eyes that were boring into the back of your head already. 

“Absolutely, sweetheart. I’d love to.” 

He gave you a reassuring nod as you turned around and made your way up the staircase, smiling like an idiot over the fact that you caught him staring at you. As you reached the top of the stairs, you realized you were already winded and tired, an after effect of your recent health scare. You made your way into Rafe’s room, which had a connecting bathroom. You quickly grabbed your insulin and bath supplies, knowing you’d need to change your pump when you got out and made your way into the bathroom, where you stripped yourself of your clothes and turned on the water. You liked the water scalding hot, you always joked that you like to feel like you’re in the pits of hell until your shower is over and the cool air of the bathroom brushes up against your naked skin. You removed the old insulin pump, discarding it into the trash, and hopped in the shower. You didn’t waste much time, but you did let the hot water soothe your muscles for a bit before you washed your hair and body and it felt so good. When you were done, you exited the shower, grabbing Rafe’s towel from the drying rack and wrapping it around your body. You made your way into the bedroom, where you found a beautiful, white lace sundress with a note attached to it. 

A beautiful dress for a beautiful girl. Saw this downtown last week and it reminded me of you. What a perfect day to wear it, yeah? I packed your bag with all the necessary snacks and medicine and put a bathing suit in there for you too. The white one-piece you wore on the druthers, it’s my favorite.

X, 

Rafael

You audibly gasped at how thoughtful Rafe had been and there you were, smiling like an idiot in the middle of his bedroom. You put on your bra and underwear and called his name, wanting him to come to help you with applying a new insulin pump. Today was as good a day as any for him to learn how to do it. 

“Rafael!” 

You bellowed out his name and he came up the stairs quickly, you could hear his feet hitting each mahogany panel. He knocked softly, not wanting to disturb you if you weren’t decent. You slowly slid the dress up your legs, so he could only see your bra. 

“You can come in, I need your help.” 

He swung the door open at that, afraid you were sick or in trouble in some other way. His eyes landed on you, sitting on his bed, with the dress he had bought you covering your bottom half, nothing but your bra covering your top. 

“Woah.” 

He whispered, a smirk tracing his lips. 

“Easy, tiger. I need help with my pump. There’s no fire anywhere.” 

You giggled softly at him. He looked so afraid when he swung the door open.

“Okay, pretty girl, tell me what to do.” 

“I have everything ready. I just need you to plunge it into my skin, somewhere it won’t show in this dress.” 

“Is your stomach okay?” 

He questioned you, watching as you inserted the insulin into the pump and let it prime. As much as you wanted to tell him, no, to run, to scream, to hide - you couldn’t. Your stomach was the best place for the pump, but it was also a place you didn’t want Rafe to look at. Over the last two years, your stomach had become littered with scars from failed pump sites and it made you insecure about your body. This is why you stuck to one-piece bathing suits. 

“U-uh, yeah.” 

Rafe noticed the shift in your behavior and he didn’t take it lightly. 

“Hey, pretty girl, what’s the matter?” 

You stared down at him, as he was now rocking on the balls of his feet and squatted in front of you. 

“It’s just, my stomach, it isn’t pretty anymore, okay?”

“What do you mean? Everything about you is pretty.” 

“I have a lot of scars from my pump on my stomach. It’s probably better if I show you.” 

He nodded gingerly and you delicately pushed the dress down to your hips, revealing the fullness of your tiny waist and belly. The scars that littered it were discolored, some black, and brown, and the oldest ones were white. Some were longer and larger than the others. You swallowed thickly as you watched Rafe’s blue eyes take in the tattered skin and you let a tear fall from your eye. You hoped he didn’t notice, but he did. 

“Hey, this doesn’t change anything. Everybody has scars. It’s okay, baby.” 

“I’m ugly, Rafe.” 

“Believe me, darling, you are the furthest thing there ever was from ugly and a few scars won’t change my mind. I have scars too.” 

“Y-you do?” 

“Yeah, look, this is from that time you pushed me off my bike when we were seven. Remember I had all those stitches?” 

He asked, pointing to his face, which he had landed on when he fell. You chuckled to yourself. He had pissed you off so bad that day when he wouldn’t let you play with his spiderman action figures. 

“Yeah, I remember. Sorry, I was a bitch.” 

You laughed and Rafe wiped some of the tears off your face. 

“You’ve never been a bitch. I promise.” 

You sniffled and smiled at him, thankful for his kind words. 

“Everybody has scars, sweet girl. They make us who we are, they’re proof we’ve lived. You’ve just lived a lot of life.” 

You hugged him tightly, his fingers tracing the skin of your bare back. 

“Okay, pick a spot on my belly and stick it there.” 

“How’s here?” 

He asked, placing the pump close to your naval. 

“That’s great. Just hold it there until you hear the click.” 

He did as he was told, holding it until he heard the audible click of the needle going into your fragile skin. You grimaced. 

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” 

His brows furrowed in concern. 

“I’m okay, Rafael. It’s just the needle.” 

Your response seemed to soothe him enough because the next thing you knew his hands had traveled to your hips and he began helping you pull the dress up over your middle and placed the straps securely on your shoulders. He turned you around to look in the mirror. 

“How’s that, pretty girl? Do you like it?” 

“I love it, Rafe. Thank you so much.” 

-

Shortly after your bedroom excursion, you and Rafe were ready to go, you still clueless as to where he was taking you or what your date entailed. He led you outside to his truck, grabbing the bag he had packed for you and placing it on the backseat floorboard. When he opened the back passenger door, you noticed there was a picnic basket with pink tulips hanging out the side of it. They were your favorite flower, which Rafe definitely knew. You smirked at this small detail. So far he was blowing your expectations out of the water, which you had no doubt he would. He helped you into the passenger seat, buckling you yet again. You were starting to think this had less to do with your fragility and more to do with the fact that he just liked doing it. 

You and Rafe quickly arrived downtown, walking around all your favorite boutiques and shops. As you walked down the cobblestone streets of Kildare, Rafe reached for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. You could’ve sworn you had died and gone to heaven. You had loved this boy as long as you could remember and even your wildest of fantasies would’ve never given you the idea he’d ever want you like this. You watched the ground as you walked, eyes on your feet and you felt his eyes boring a hole into the side of your head. 

“It’s rude to stare, you know?” 

You spoke freely, letting out a giggle and Rafe rolled his eyes playfully. 

“I just wanted to look at you.” 

He spoke softly. 

“Why?” 

“Cause you’re beautiful.” 

He spoke with more fire this time, saying the words boldly, with purpose. He wasn’t trying to make a move, or get you to sleep with him, he just needed you to know and you sensed that he meant it. 

“You make me feel good, Rafe.” 

“Well, that’s kinda the whole point of this. If I’m ever not making you feel good, then that’s when we should reevaluate what we’re doing.” 

You smiled at him and nodded, knowing he needed you to understand what he was saying, that’d you tell him if ever wasn’t making you feel good. 

“You want some ice cream, beautiful?” 

Your face lit up and Rafe giggled. You were always in the mood for ice cream, something he noted when you were thirteen. Every time he has ever asked if you wanted ice cream, your answer has been yes. 

“You know I do.” 

You snorted at his knowledge of you, at his ability to read you like a book. He nodded and you made your way into the ice cream shop. Rafe made you sit at a table while he ordered and when he brought you the ice cream you beamed up at him. 

“Mint chocolate chip, you remembered!” 

You exclaimed. It was like Rafe’s thoughts were consumed by you, it seemed he knew everything there was to know about you. 

“I remember everything about you, honey.” 

You blushed at his remark. You were thankful for this day with him. It was simple and domestic and freeing and you were just thankful. 

“This has been fun, Rafael. Thank you.” 

You smiled sweetly, meeting his blue eyes with yours, blushing again. 

“You’re welcome, pretty girl. But, it’s not over yet. I have one more surprise for you.” 

“What else could you possibly have up your sleeve?” 

You questioned him with a belly laugh, thinking this sweet boy had already gone above and beyond for you. You both finished off your ice cream and Rafe led you back to the truck, following his routine of buckling you in before he made his way inside. He definitely liked doing it, no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. 

The ride was quiet and after fifteen minutes, he pulled into the public beach parking lot. He helped you out of the vehicle once again, grabbing the picnic basket, along with your bag of necessities, and placing it on his shoulders. He carried that bag as if his life depended on it. Once you made it down to the sand, he laid out the white knitted blanket he had brought with him and instructed you to sit down, while he unpacked the picnic basket. 

“These are for you. I know they’re your favorite.” 

Rafe spoke matter-of-factly, pulling the pink tulips out of the basket and handing them to you. Your smile was giddy and you couldn’t contain yourself. You’d jump his bones right here if you knew you wouldn’t get arrested. 

“Rafe, these are so beautiful!” 

You exclaimed, joy written on your features. He loved that look on you. The joy. 

“I’m glad you like them.” 

He giggled and put his arm around you, placing his hand on the other side of your hip in the sand. 

“You just seem to know all my favorite things.” 

Blush infiltrated the pores of your cheeks. 

“It’s not hard if you pay attention.” 

His words meant more to you than anyone’s ever had before, but the truth of them stung. This is what love is supposed to feel like, to be like and now you know why you didn’t miss JJ. Because he wasn’t the one and Rafe was. Rafe’s next line of questioning brought you out of your head. 

“Are you hungry, sweet girl?” 

He questioned with soft eyes. 

“I could eat.” 

You replied, a soft smile on your lips. 

“PB & J or Turkey and Mayo?” 

He asked, pulling two sandwiches out of the basket. 

“PB & J.” 

You replied. 

He ever so slowly plated the sandwiches and put apple slices with caramel sauce beside them. 

“Here you go, m’lady.” 

“Rafe, this is so sweet.” 

You gushed, heart almost bursting at the seams for the effort he put into this. 

“Water or champagne?” 

His line of questioning continued.

“Depends, what are we celebrating?” 

“Just me, being here, with you.” 

“Champagne it is then.” 

Rafe took the two glasses out of the picnic basket, handing you yours to hold while he poured it. He looked up at your face, golden hour making the hues of orange, yellow, and pink dance across your face. He noticed something on your cheek, right near your lip - a scar, medium size, white in color, in a jagged line. His fingers traced over it as he finished pouring your beverage. You shied away from his touch. 

“I’m sorry, angel.” 

He looked defeated, afraid he had done the wrong thing. This perfect day, did he just fuck it up? He wondered. 

“It’s okay. No worries.” 

You smiled at him and leaned into him, placing your head on his shoulder. 

“Can you tell me what that’s from?” 

He asked. He needed to know at some point, you knew that. But, that didn’t mean the conversation would be easy or that he wouldn’t get angry. 

“Trust me, you don’t want to know, Rafe.” 

He was taken aback, what was so bad that you thought he wouldn’t want to know. He wanted to know about every scar that littered your body. 

“Believe me when I say this, I most certainly do.” 

You huffed, loudly.

“You promise you won’t get mad?” 

“I promise, angel.” 

Your vision clouded with unshed tears, you had never had to explain to him the abuse you face from JJ and it would never be easy to talk about. 

“I-it’s from JJ.” 

You let the words sit in the thick air between you and Rafe. 

“What do you mean it’s from JJ?” 

Rafe’s eyes were laced with bewilderment and confusion. 

“F-from the first t-time.” 

Your voice became shaky, weak. 

“The first time for what, y/n?” 

“The f-first time he punched me in the f-face.”

“What the fuck did you just say?! He punched you in the face?!” 

Rafe questioned, a fire in his eyes that you’d never seen before. 

“Y-you said you wouldn’t get mad.” 

Rafe looked up at you, tears falling freely down your face. 

“Hey, hey, I’m not mad, baby. Come here.” 

He reached out for you and lunged for him, clinging as tightly as you could to his middle, crying into his button-down. 

“Tell me what happened, angel. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’d never hurt you. I’d never dream of putting my hands on you, of hurting you.” 

He rocked you back and forth, peppering kisses into your hairline. Waiting until your breathing had become normal before he stopped, just sitting with his chin on top of your head. 

“He abused me the entire year we were together. It started when I told him I wasn’t ready to lose my virginity, that I was saving it for the right person.” 

“I’m so sorry, baby.” 

“The first time he hit me, I still had braces on my teeth. Cut right through my cheek, that’s what the scar is from. I had to get 7 stitches.” 

He didn’t say anything, mostly because he knew that there was nothing he could say to make it better. He just squeezed you tighter and wondered how the fuck he was going to kill JJ Maybank. 

“Listen, angel, I don’t want you working at the club with him.” 

Rafe’s tone revealed how uneasy he truly was.” 

“I know. The first day you came to see me at work, he showed up that night. Told me to remember who I belonged to. I haven’t felt safe without you there, ever since.” 

“Baby, let me talk to dad and see how serious he is about wanting you to come work for him.” 

“You’d do that?” 

You looked up at him, shocked he would help you find work elsewhere when he didn’t have to. It wasn’t his responsibility. 

“You have no idea the things I’d do for you, sweet girl.” 

The words were heavy and somehow you knew he meant every single one. 

taglist:

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt

[amirasainz]

Hiii, first of if I just want to say that I absolutely love your stories. Secondly could you perhaps write a bit more about Dark! Charles and Alex x Reader like maybe Reader had a child or something like that only if you’re comfortable with that of course

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl

Attention: this is just a story! Nothing what is happening here, is happening in real life.

Part 1 Part 2

Obsession

Yn’s days had fallen into an odd rhythm, one she never thought would define her life. From the moment Charles and Alexandra had taken her, she had slowly adjusted to her new reality, though not willingly. Their twisted love and obsessive protectiveness were suffocating. And now, with her baby boy, Theo, in the picture, their fixation had only grown.

She tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy, even under their constant watch. Like today, she insisted on taking Theo for a walk. Alexandra, as usual, trailed behind her, her presence an unyielding shadow.

---

Yn pushed the stroller along the serene pathway, breathing in the crisp air. It was one of those rare moments of peace where she felt almost human again.

"Enjoying the fresh air, mon amour?" Alexandra's voice was a sultry purr, her heels clicking against the cobblestone path as she sauntered closer. Yn didn’t answer, pretending to focus on Theo instead.

"Don’t ignore me," Alexandra warned, her tone firm but laced with amusement. She reached out and placed a possessive hand on Yn’s hip before sliding it down to her butt. Yn flinched but tried to stay calm for Theo’s sake.

“Do you have to be so handsy all the time?” Yn snapped, unable to contain her frustration.

Alexandra smirked and spun Yn around to face her, ignoring the protest. She leaned in, brushing her lips against Yn’s ear as she whispered, "Of course I do. You're mine, Yn. Ours."

Before Yn could respond, Alexandra’s hand moved to her stomach, caressing it with an unsettling reverence. Her eyes lit up with an obsessive glow.

"You’ve already given us one perfect little boy," Alexandra murmured, her gaze shifting briefly to Theo, who was babbling happily in the stroller. "But I think it’s time for another. Don’t you agree?"

Yn froze, her heart pounding in her chest. "What are you talking about?"

Alexandra tilted her head, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Oh, you know exactly what I mean." She leaned in further, capturing Yn’s lips in a firm, possessive kiss. Yn tried to pull away, but Alexandra held her firmly in place, her hands gripping Yn’s waist as if she would never let go.

When Alexandra finally pulled back, she pressed her forehead against Yn’s, her voice soft but filled with determination. "Another baby, Yn. You’re going to give us another baby."

---

By the time they returned home, Yn’s nerves were frazzled. Theo had fallen asleep, his tiny fists curled against his chest, blissfully unaware of the tension between the adults.

As soon as they stepped inside, Charles appeared, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Yn and Theo. "There’s my family," he said warmly, his French accent thick. He approached Yn, his gaze lingering on her with an intensity that always made her uneasy.

“Charles,” Yn greeted stiffly, trying to sidestep him, but he was quicker. He caught her by the waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the kitchen counter.

“Charles, what are you doing?” she protested, but he ignored her, stepping between her legs and holding her hips firmly.

“You look beautiful, mon amour,” he said, his voice low as his hands slid to her waist. He leaned in, kissing her neck, then her jawline, and finally her lips. Unlike Alexandra’s kiss earlier, Charles’ was gentler but no less possessive.

“Stop,” Yn muttered against his lips, trying to push him away, but he didn’t budge.

“You’ve already given me the most wonderful gift,” Charles murmured, his hand moving to her stomach. “Theo is perfect. But I can’t help wanting more.” He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin. “I want another baby, Yn. I want to see you glowing with life again.”

Yn shook her head, panic rising in her chest. “Charles, I can’t… I won’t—”

“Shhh,” he interrupted, kissing her again, his hands gripping her waist. “We’ll take care of everything. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

---

Dinner was a quiet affair, but the tension was palpable. Alexandra and Charles exchanged looks across the table, their shared obsession evident. Yn ate in silence, her appetite diminished by their earlier declarations.

After Theo was tucked in for the night, Yn tried to retreat to her room, hoping for a moment of solitude. But she didn’t make it far.

“Going somewhere, mon amour?” Alexandra’s voice stopped her in her tracks. Yn turned to find both Alexandra and Charles standing there, their expressions a mix of adoration and hunger.

“I’m tired,” Yn said quickly, but neither of them seemed to care. Alexandra closed the distance between them first, cupping Yn’s face in her hands and kissing her deeply.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Alexandra whispered against her lips, her hands sliding down Yn’s body.

Charles joined them, pulling Yn close from behind. His hands rested on her hips as he pressed kisses to her neck. “We’re not done with you yet,” he murmured, his voice filled with promise.

Yn felt trapped between them, their touches overwhelming. Alexandra’s fingers traced her stomach again, while Charles’ hands roamed her waist.

“You’re ours, Yn,” Alexandra said softly, her lips brushing against Yn’s ear. “And we want to grow our family. Don’t we, Charles?”

“Absolutely,” Charles agreed, turning Yn to face him. He kissed her deeply, his hands anchoring her in place. “Another baby, Yn. It’s all we want.”

They didn’t give her a chance to protest, their kisses and touches silencing her words. Yn’s mind raced, torn between fear and the strange, inescapable pull of their obsessive love.

She knew one thing for sure: escape wasn’t an option. Not when Charles and Alexandra had made it clear—they would never let her go.

[daisymbin]

hi!! may i request 39(angst prompt) with wonwoo but with a happy ending please🥺💖

of course lovely!!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

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

angst prompt #39: "why are you pushing me away?"

wonwoo’s been watching you from across the room, his fingers curled tightly around the edge of his drink. your laugh rings out, light and sweet, but it doesn’t reach him. it hasn’t reached him in weeks.

he doesn’t know when it started. the distance between you. the hesitance in your smile when you see him. the way you pull away from his touch like it burns. it’s suffocating, the way it all sits heavy on his chest, and he feels like if he doesn’t say something now, he might never get the chance.

so he crosses the room.

you notice him too late. he sees the way your shoulders stiffen, the way your expression flickers between surprise and something that looks like dread.

“can we talk?” he asks, his voice quiet, but firm.

“now?” you glance at your friends, at mingyu who’s watching the two of you with an expression that’s too knowing.

“yeah.”

you don’t argue. you never do, and that’s the part that kills him the most.

he leads you outside, to the quiet balcony where the noise of the party fades into the background. the cold air bites at his skin, but it does nothing to numb the ache in his chest.

“wonwoo, if this is about—”

“why are you pushing me away?” he cuts you off, his voice trembling despite himself.

your mouth opens, then closes. your eyes dart to the ground, and you wrap your arms around yourself like you’re trying to shield yourself from him.

“i’m not,” you say finally, but the words sound hollow even to you.

“you are,” he presses, stepping closer. “and i don’t—I don’t understand why. did i do something? say something? because if i did, just tell me, and i’ll fix it.”

“it’s not that simple, wonwoo.”

“then make it simple,” he says, his voice breaking at the edges. “please. i can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not. not when it feels like you’re already halfway out the door.”

your breath hitches, and he sees the way your hands tremble as you grip the railing.

“i’m not good for you,” you whisper, and the words hit him like a punch to the gut. “you deserve someone who’s... better. someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“what are you talking about?” his voice cracks, but he doesn’t care. “you think you don’t love me enough? you think you’re not enough? where are you getting this? where is this even coming from?”

you turn away, and it takes everything in him not to reach out and pull you back.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “and i feel like that’s all i ever do.”

“you don’t,” he says immediately, but you shake your head like you don’t believe him.

“i do, wonwoo. i see it. in the way you look at me, like you’re scared i’m gonna disappear. and i—” your voice wavers. “i don’t want to be the reason you’re unhappy.”

he takes a shaky breath, his hands clenching at his sides.

“you’re not,” he says firmly, stepping closer again. “you’re the opposite of that. every time you smile, every time you laugh, even if it’s not at me, it’s enough to make my day. you’re the one thing in my life that feels like home, and you think you’re hurting me?”

you turn to look at him then, your eyes wide and glassy, and it shatters something in him.

“if i’m scared, it’s because i don’t want to lose you,” he continues, his voice softer now, pleading. “but if you push me away, that’s what’s going to hurt. not being with you—that’s what’ll break me.”

he watches as your defenses crumble, piece by piece, until you’re standing there with tears streaming down your cheeks and an expression so raw it makes his chest ache.

“i’m scared, too,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“then let’s be scared together,” he says, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles. “we’ll figure it out. i don’t care how long it takes or how hard it gets. i just—i just want to be with you.”

you let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“you make it sound so easy.”

“because it is,” he says, stepping closer until he’s right in front of you. “as long as we’re together, it is.”

you let out a breath, one that sounds like it’s been trapped in your chest for far too long, and then you’re closing the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his chest.

he freezes for a moment, like he’s afraid this is some kind of cruel dream, but then his arms come up around you, holding you tightly against him.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble against his sweater.

“don’t be,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “just stay.”

you nod, and he feels your arms tighten around him.

he doesn’t know what the future holds, but in this moment, with you in his arms and your walls finally coming down, he thinks maybe—just maybe—it’s going to be okay.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T SAY MUCH *  assorted dialogue for the person who doesn't say much and the person trying to talk to them, adjust as necessary

FOR THE PERSON WHO TALKS A LOT.

i heard you speak.

why don't you ever want to talk to me?

you can understand me.

are you at least going to ask me my name?

you could at least say thank you.

i just saved your life.

you spoke to them! why won't you speak to me?

are you going to say something back?

let's just stand here in awkward silence.

feels like i'm talking to myself half the time.

you don't have a lot to say.

could you at least tell me your name?

great conversation.

i'll do all the talking.

i think i'm owed an explanation.

will you please answer me?

could you at least give me a yes or no answer?

not a fan of talking, huh?

you don't have to talk if you don't want to.

i guess you don't owe me a thing.

i'm just going to call you [nickname] for now, until i learn your real name.

i know you can understand me.

where are you going?

you can't just leave me here!

what do you want me to do while you're gone?

feels like i'm talking to a wall.

i'm just going to pretend you said yes to that.

did you just huff?

don't roll your eyes at me.

if you'd just tell me what it is you want...

this would go a lot smoother if you communicated with me.

you don't work well with strangers.

if i knew what you needed, i'd help.

believe it or not, i want to help you.

this would be so much easier if i had your name.

FOR THE PERSON WHO DOESN'T TALK MUCH.

not now.

get behind me.

not yet.

wait.

stay here.

is that it?

you're welcome.

stop talking.

not interested.

are you done?

i have nothing to say.

talking is a waste of time.

i let my actions speak for themselves.

stop that.

nice try.

go.

get out of here.

you're being loud.

that's enough.

i don't like people.

words are useless.

see that?

you don't need my name.

get lost.

no more.

i'll handle it.

not this again.

leave me alone.

i don't like strangers.

just call me [nickname].

[gyubakeries]

𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | j.ww

a/n: i had a terrible nightmare, but it inspired this lmao. apologies if the plot seems weird, i just went with the flow. hope you like it! (p.s. took me just a week to write this bad boy, but trust, there's more angst on the way! itll take more time bcs im super busy but i promise im gonna deliver angst)

word count: 5k contents: dystopian au , kinda inspired by divergent too , wonwoo x afab!reader , doctor!wonwoo , reader is going to die , a little graphic at the end but for like 2 seconds , flashbacks , forbidden love , HEAVY angst , sad ending

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"756, your three hours begin now," an automated voice booms through the speakers placed in your cell, reverberating through the small metal chamber you've been kept in for as long as you can remember.

the door to your cell slides open, allowing you your last bit of freedom, last few hours of life, before it was all going to be taken away from you.

hyejun, the girl who occupied the cell next to you, comes into view, her eyes already filled with tears. the two of you had become friends of some sort over the last twenty-one years of captivity. although, your friendship wasn't like the ones people wrote about in books or played out in movies.

the Misfits would never have the privilege of a real friendship.

you couldn't tell each other about childhood memories, dreams, goals, or regrets, because the last twenty-one years of your lives had been spent inside the same grey walls. you couldn't go shopping at the mall, or watch movies at the cinema, because you weren't allowed to leave the facility, no matter what.

yet, hyejun was the closest you'd ever have to a friend, which is why it hurt you to see her cry profusely.

"don't cry, you idiot," you laugh, trying your best to keep yourself calm and composed. nothing good ever came out of the both of you crying together. "don't act like you forgot that this would happen some day."

"it hurt less to pretend like it wasn't," hyejun sobs, hugging you tightly. "why did we have to turn out this way?"

you wish you could answer that question.

there wasn't really any research or accurate information on how the Misfits came to be. the only piece of information told to every Misfit child the day they turn three years old is that they didn't have a place in society.

and the next thing you know, you've been shipped off to a facility to spend the rest of your lives as outcasts; as children who were deprived of their life too quickly.

at least once during their twenty-one years in a prison, every Misfit has wondered how this system came to be. who was it that decided what the Misfits were? was there a war? or an uprising? why was it declared that upon turning twenty-four, every Misfit would be executed?

you had resigned to your fate a long time ago. somewhere between the age of five and eight, when you realized that this was your life—living locked up in the facility. it wasn't as restrictive as a prison, as you were allowed to spend time outside your cell for meals, showers, interacting with others, and visiting the in-house library, theater and much more. but you when you learnt that you were strictly denied any permission to leave the place where childhood innocence came to die—you had given up.

you stopped throwing tantrums and crying like all the other children. you stopped wanting to see the outside world again. you stopped trying to live your life. you stopped hoping. you stopped loving.

it was a cruel realization to come to at such a young age, but you never had a choice. your entire life had been decided for you, because of some goddamn reason no one knew, so you gave up on trying to fight the system.

which is why, on the day of your twenty-fourth birthday, when your last three hours on this earth were announced, there wasn't any dread or anxiety filling you. there wasn't any urge to resist and rebel against the oppression you've been subjected to.

you were just another number on the list, the seven hundred and fifty-sixth person to be killed this year.

one of the things you were thankful for was the painless death. back when you were thirteen, an old lady who worked at the facility as a cleaner had given into hyejun's incessant pleas to know how the executions occurred.

the lady had said, "it doesn't hurt at all. first, they inject you with some drug. then, you're taken into an empty white room. they have a machine in there, which i don't know much about, but in merely three minutes, you're gone."

hyejun had ended up in tears after she got to know, but all you could do was laugh to yourself. three years to live a normal life, three hours to spend before you die, and three minutes to completely wipe out your existence, as if you ever really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

ever since you came into the facility, you've seen countless people being escorted upstairs to meet their end. some scream and yell for mercy, some stab a knife into themselves before they die in a way they're not even aware of, and some people, like you, have this empty look in their eyes. they look like lifeless dolls being dragged to their doom, because anything worth living had already been snatched from their hands.

—

"one hour and fifteen minutes," hyejun whispers, looking at the timer on your wrist counting down your last few moments. "y/n, how am i going to live without you?"

"this isn't called life, junnie," you chuckle, the sound hollow and meaningless. "they should've just killed us before we were brought into this prison. this isn't a life worth living."

"how can you say that?" hyejun asks, and you look at her to gauge her expression. hyejun is one of the many people who still haven't accepted that their days are marked. she's one of the many people who hope that there is a second chance at life.

"i can say it because it's the truth," you sigh. "there's no point in grieving the loss of a life you never had."

hyejun falls silent, her expression distraught, and you feel bad for this being your last conversation with the one person you've spent your entire life with.

your heart softens just a little bit for the person who's shared this meaningless life with you, so you move closer to her on the single bed in your cell.

"i'm sorry, i guess i hadn't realized that you haven't accepted this fate like i have," you apologize, wrapping an arm around hyejun's shoulder to comfort her. "don't be too upset after i'm gone, okay? probably not the best source of motivation, but you'll just have two weeks to spend without me before..... you know." you trail off awkwardly.

"i know," hyejun nods, looking up at you. "promise me you'll find me wherever we end up once we're gone?"

"i promise," you smile, and it's probably the most genuine thing you've felt your entire life.

the two of you huddle closer, spending your last hour in silence.

the door to your cell remains open, which is why you aren't startled when two women, dressed in all-white clothing, appear at the door, one holding a glass of water, and the other a pill.

hyejun isn't as calm as you, and tears quickly spring to her eyes when she sees the two officials at the door. "y/n, it can't be-"

"764, please return to your assigned cell," one woman speaks, her tone cold and sterile, devoid of any emotion.

"i- please, just some more time, please," hyejun begs, her hands clinging onto yours, as if bargaining for more time would do anything to delay the consequence you were going to face.

"please return to your assigned cell," the woman repeats. "i will not hesitate to call security."

"junnie, go," you whisper, slowly freeing your hands from her grip. "i'll be fine, you'll be fine."

hyejun shakes her head, sobbing incessantly. "i'll miss you."

"i'll miss you too," you admit truthfully. "i'll wait for you, okay?"

hyejun nods, and after another threatening glare from the officials, she shares one last knowing look with you, and for a moment, you feel thankful for being loved by someone in this life, no matter how short or miserable it was.

hyejun goes back into her own cell, and you let your last ever interaction with her sink in.

"756, please take this pill, and then follow us upstairs," the second woman instructs, and you get off the bed to approach the women.

"happy birthday to me," you scoff to yourself, taking the pill and swallowing it down with the water.

as if some countdown has started, the two officials spring into action. each grab one arm of yours and escort you out of your room. out of the corner of your eye, you can see hyejun by her door, collapsed to the floor on her knees, sobbing and grieving the only real connection she had with anyone in this ruthless world.

you wish you could say the same, but it would be a lie.

because when you finally climb the last step, and the door to your death is opened in front of you, you find yourself looking into the chocolate-brown eyes you had foolishly let yourself fall into.

jeon wonwoo.

—

[ flashback - 28th october, 2022 ]

"i wasn't aware that you were allowed to be outside your cell past 11 p.m.," a deep voice speaks from behind you, and you nearly jump five feet into the air.

you turn to see a tall, bespectacled man standing in the kitchen, a white lab coat hanging off his broad shoulders.

he's a doctor.

"i-i'm so sorry," you gasp, realizing that you're in deep shit now. realistically, you knew that the only way you were going to leave this facility was when you died, but you had no idea what the protocol was for people who snuck out of their cells at midnight, which was against all the rules. "i just really needed some water and i didn't have any left in the cell and-"

but the doctor just smiles at you, his intimidating demeanour replaced by possibly the only smile you'll ever see that is so beautiful.

"it's alright, don't be scared," he assures you, in that rich, warm voice of his. "i'm doctor jeon. you are?"

"y/n," you reply, confused about the whole situation. were doctors supposed to be on a first-name basis with the Misfits? "i'm sorry if this sounds stupid, but are you supposed to be talking to me?"

a flicker of sadness appears in his eyes, and disappears just as quickly. "it's alright for me to talk to you. you do realize i am required to interact with everyone in this facility if they visit the infirmary, right? i'm a doctor, it's kinda my job."

your face burns with embarrassment. "sorry, that was a stupid question."

"no worries, y/n," doctor jeon laughs, seemingly endeared by your mini-meltdown. you had no idea why you were behaving this way. never in your life had you been this embarrassed or flustered around anyone. you've been living in a prison all your life, where showers are taken in communal bathrooms and privacy was a rare luxury. why did this man have to change that?

"i'm going to head back to my cell now," you clear your throat, eyes focused on the water bottle you had just filled for yourself.

"alright," doctor jeon nods. "goodnight, y/n."

you give him a nod in return, stiffly walking past him to tiptoe back to your cell. you catch a glance at his name-tag.

dr. jeon wonwoo.

the name stays on your mind for way longer than it should've.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"have you taken the prescribed pill?" wonwoo asks, his tone formal and cold, as if he's never seen you, never known of your existence.

you know that's far from the truth.

"yes, doctor," you reply promptly, attentively watching as wonwoo goes through a few files on his desk. you see his features harden for a second at the name you addressed him with, a giveaway of how much he hated it when you called him that.

"it'll take a minute for the pill to take effect," wonwoo says. "please head over to the chair."

you wordlessly move over to the black leather armchair in the room, sitting on it as instructed. the situation is built on similar circumstances from the past, but it feels so devastatingly unfamiliar and strange.

you don't know if it's the air-conditioner or the cold look in wonwoo's once-loving eyes that makes you shiver.

—

[ flashback - 24th november, 2022 ]

"i'll walk you to the infirmary," hyejun offers. the morning of your twenty-second birthday, you had woken up with a high fever. your body was so weak, you couldn't even move to get off the bed.

thankfully, despite the prison-like feel, the facility wasn't too restrictive with regards to the cell doors being locked, or neighbouring cellmates interacting, which is why hyejun could come into your cell and take you to the infirmary.

you're barely conscious when you enter. you can hear hyejun's muffled voice talking to the doctor on duty, explaining to them your condition, all while you struggle to stay standing upright.

soon, a familiar pair of glasses swim into your vision, strong arms lift you and place you on one of the beds, and a gentle touch on your forehead lulls you to sleep.

the name-tag catches your attention before your eyes close.

—

"doctor jeon?" you croak out, voice groggy with sleep. the doctor looks up from his desk to see you sitting up in bed, finally awake after being asleep for almost the entire day.

"ah, y/n, you're up," wonwoo smiles at you. "how are you feeling now?"

"the fever seems to be gone," you reply after a moment, feeling much better than earlier in the morning.

"that's good to hear," wonwoo nods. "your friend mentioned that it was your birthday today. happy birthday, y/n."

you sigh. "doctor, i appreciate your gesture, but having a birthday is hardly an occasion that calls for happiness, is it? birthdays are never happy for someone like me."

a similar flicker of sadness flashes in wonwoo's eyes, reminding you of the first encounter in the kitchen a month ago.

"i'm sorry, i should've known-"

"it's alright," you interrupt his apology. "at least the infirmary is a change of scenery. never had a birthday party in here before, doctor." you joke, because somehow, seeing a frown on wonwoo's face felt like it should be a crime for him to be anything but happy.

"call me wonwoo, please," he chuckles. "being called doctor by someone who's the same age feels a little embarrassing."

"we're the same age?" you question, sitting up a little straighter. "next thing you're going to tell me is that we have the same favorite color."

"i like blue," wonwoo says.

"me too!" you gasp, the both of you bursting into laughter instantly.

the infirmary was empty for the rest of the day, and the two of you filled it with laughter and stories. wonwoo gladly took the lead, telling you all about his life up until he was hired to work at the facility six months ago, and you listened eagerly. it felt like you lived life through his stories, and it stirred this dangerous feeling inside you.

you had found something that gave you hope, in a universe where hope never worked in your favor.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"details of subject 756. full name, lee y/n. sex, female. date of birth, 24th november 1999-"

wonwoo's voice reading out all your details, the only pieces of information that gave you any form of self-identity, was getting hard to listen to with no response.

"stop."

"756, not interrupting the procedure would be advised," wonwoo addresses you, not even looking your way, his eyes trained on the file in front of him.

"why are you treating me like you don't know who i am?" you ask him in a quiet voice. "as if we didn't spend almost two years together, in love-"

"756, no interruptions, please." wonwoo grits out, sounding just as hurt as you felt.

"you hated it when i called you doctor, and now you won't even call me by my name?" you scoff, and that seems to rouse a reaction out of wonwoo.

"you are nothing but a number on this long list of people that i have to kill," wonwoo seethes, leaving his desk to come stand in front of you. "this is our reality now, 756. whatever happened in those two years, it was a dream, a fantasy."

"our love wasn't real? the hope you gave me wasn't real?" you challenge, standing up from the armchair. "you promised me, every day, that you'd change this, that i wouldn't have to-"

"then you were stupid for believing me!" wonwoo yells, cutting you off. "you should've known that i was an idiot in love, that i would've promised you anything if it meant i could see you smile. if it meant i could see you live the last few years of your life happily."

—

[ flashback - 1st january, 2023 ]

soon after your twenty-second birthday, you had grown much closer to wonwoo. you'd visit the infirmary for no reason, just to spend hours with him, learning about how the outside world worked. there were afternoons where he'd show you pictures of mountains, oceans, parks, children, and animals that he'd taken. there were evenings where he'd sneak you into his quarters, where he'd read you a book, or turn on a random movie he thought you'd appreciate.

it started feeling less like a friendship, and more like love. the way his eyes would light up when you entered the infirmary to greet him good morning, the way his ears would turn red if any other staff at the facility would get close to figuring out his relationship with you, the way he'd hold your hand or run his fingers through your hair, and the way he'd smile at you, kissing your cheek as a goodnight before going back to his own quarters.

you knew you were foolish for falling in love with wonwoo, especially when you had such limited time to love him properly. so you began to distance yourself from him. you stopped visiting him, avoided his attempts to talk, and tried your best to forget him.

it didn't work.

it only ended up in you being dragged to the infirmary by hyejun, when you woke up on january 1st complaining of a terrible stomach ache.

it was wonwoo who took care of you then.

"you've been avoiding me," wonwoo says quietly, watching you take the medicine he gave you. "did i do something wrong?"

you stay silent, wondering if you should tell him the truth or keep it hidden.

"i've fallen in love with you."

the truth it is then.

wonwoo gapes at you, blinking repeatedly as he tries to process your words. after a minute, he regains his composure and says, "i love you too. now why were you ignoring me?"

he asked you to be his girlfriend three days later, and for the first time since you've entered the facility, your heart starts to long for more time.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024]

"yeah, i was stupid," you laugh sadly. "i was stupid to believe that you'd actually do something to fight for us."

"and risk both our lives in the process?" wonwoo argues. "if anyone would've found out, we'd both be killed, and not the painless way."

"well, one of us is going to die anyways!" you raise your voice, the tears you've desperately held back finally spilling over. "why did you have to love me? why did you have to make me want to live? do you know how hard it is for your face to be the last thing i see before i die?"

"and you think that this is making me happy?" wonwoo says, anger, love, helplessness, all emotions bleeding into his voice. "i loved you too. heck, i still do, and even after you're gone, i'll-"

"just do it. do whatever you need to do to kill me," you stop him from finishing his sentence. five-year old you had promised to give into your fate no matter what happens. and even though seeing the only man you've loved about to end your life is breaking your heart into a million pieces, you wouldn't be alive for too long to feel that pain.

"no-" wonwoo shakes his head. "i was stupid. i should've done something sooner. i was scared and i'm sorry. i'll get you out."

—

[ flashback - 19th september, 2023 ]

"i'll get you out," wonwoo whispers into your ear. you've just pulled him into a hug before you go back into your cell for the night when the words are muttered into the skin of your neck. "i won't let you die, y/n. not like this."

"won, what are you saying?" you ask, pulling away to face him. "are you nuts?"

"i love you and i can't bear the thought of having to lose you," wonwoo breathes out, his voice sounding strained. "i can't lose you."

"wonwoo, this is the system," you scoff. "i can't not die, it's not possible."

"just trust me," wonwoo shakes his head. "i'll get you out."

you let yourself believe him.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"i'm not letting myself fall for empty promises anymore," your words ring out loud and clear. "just get this over with, doctor."

"y/n-"

"756. that's how you're instructed to address me, doctor," you correct him.

"i can't. i won't do this to you," wonwoo refuses, moving closer to stand in front of you and place his hands on your shoulders. "we can get out, y/n. please, let me try."

—

[ flashback - 19th september, 2024]

"there's no way out," wonwoo mutters, and you feel the hope building in your chest crumble to dust.

"what- what do you mean?" you stammer. "wonwoo, you said you'd find a way-"

"i couldn't," he sighs. "not with management breathing down my neck. they already suspect i'm in close contact with one of the Misfits, and i don't want to give them a reason to make your last few months any worse."

"did you even try?" your voice breaks, your hopes and dreams slowly getting crushed.

"i didn't," wonwoo replies hesitantly. "i'm being monitored, especially after the promotion-"

"promotion?"

"i've been assigned to the room upstairs."

the room upstairs. where every Misfit goes to die.

"you- you never told me about this," your voice is strangled, the weight of wonwoo's words pressing down on your chest like an invisible weight.

"that's because you had no business knowing about it," wonwoo snaps. "look, y/n, from now on, you and i are nothing but strangers. whatever we had between us, it has to end now."

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"you ended things. we're strangers now," you remind wonwoo, and the tears finally escape his eyes. "you shouldn't care this much for strangers, doctor."

"y/n, i'm sorry," wonwoo chokes out, tears streaming down his face, and you belatedly realize that you’re crying too. with the back of your hand, you wipe away the unnecessary and immature tears. this was your fate.

“you didn’t try when you said you would, wonwoo,” you lower your gaze, staring at the floor. "there's no happy ending for us now. there never was."

"i know. i was an asshole for promising you something i couldn't give to you, but i know i'm going to spend the rest of my life regretting not helping you now," wonwoo argues. he holds your hands in his.

"please, y/n, give me another chance."

"you know what's funny, wonwoo?" you laugh bitterly, looking up at the man you will love till the moment you die. "at least you have a lifetime you can spend regretting. at least you have a lifetime to start afresh, find someone else, fall in love. i only had you. you were my world, and it hurt so much when you lied to me and showed me dreams i never should've seen."

"i only said all those things because i loved you then, and i love you now as well," wonwoo's voice is shaky now. he knows your time together is nearing to a close, and with every passing second, he dreads the passing of the remainder of his life without you. "i was foolish to promise you freedom, but it was only because i hated that look of hopelessness in your eyes. and you have all the right to blame me, but let me just try-"

"if you're so sure you can get me out now, why didn't you do it earlier?" you cut him off. "why now? right before i have to die?"

you see the look of guilt flash in wonwoo's eyes. your eyes fall to the white lab coat he's wearing, the symbol of the facility embroidered into the fabric, right above where his name-tag sits.

you raise your hand to brush your fingers against the only name you had desperately hoped to call out for the rest of your life.

you realize that while it was your fate was to die, wonwoo's fate was to live. the purpose of your life was to live twenty-four years on this miserable earth and then vanish, while wonwoo's role was to take your life.

no matter how realistic those two years felt, it was impossible for the two of you to be together. you were carrying out your meaningless life, and wonwoo was fulfilling his duty. a duty that never involved loving you or rescuing you.

the bitterness brewing in you for the last couple of months comes to a rest, because you understand.

"i don't blame you," you utter quietly, hands coming up to rest against wonwoo's chest. if you tried really hard, you could delude yourself into thinking that this was just another morning you would spend with wonwoo, in his embrace, living life as if you had the gift of endless time.

"you were scared too, weren't you?"

wonwoo's face crumbles. he leans forward into you, resting his head on your shoulder as his body shakes with the intensity of his cries.

you hold him tight, and you feel sorry for giving him this warmth and comfort right before you left his life forever.

"you should have never loved me," wonwoo sobs. "i thought i was making your last years something you wouldn't hate, but i just-"

"you made my last years the happiest i've ever been," you stop him. "i don't regret loving you wonwoo, not even for a second. and i'm sorry i was angry at you for not helping me get out. i was too blinded by betrayal to realize that it could cost your life too."

"it wouldn't have mattered if you got to live," wonwoo shakes his head.

"it would've, because i wouldn't have you to live my life with," you say softly. wonwoo pulls away from you. his eyes are red and puffy, and your heart aches with the urge to kiss him, one last time.

"i'm sorry," you whisper. "i'm sorry that we ended up this way. god, if i had it any other way, i would've done anything to grow old with you."

"i'm sorry too," wonwoo sniffles. "for not fighting enough for us."

"it can't be helped now," you smile sadly at him. "maybe in another universe, we get to travel the world with each other and do everything we couldn't do in this one."

"it's time to let go, wonwoo," you say, pressing one final kiss against his lips.

wonwoo inhales deeply after you back away from him. he walks back to the desk, takes out a syringe filled with a clear liquid with shaking hands and comes back to face you.

"i'll find you in every other universe, and i'll love you till the end of time," wonwoo looks into your eyes, and this one feels like a real promise.

"i know you will," you hold the wrist of the hand holding the syringe to steady it.

wonwoo presses the needle into the skin of your neck, the place where he had whispered a promise of a better life before, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

"it won't hurt at all," wonwoo whispers as an assurance, and his free hand holds yours tightly.

the needle breaks through skin, the liquid is injected, and your last three minutes begin.

you open your eyes, and nothing feels like it's changed, but then wonwoo approaches you with a black eye-mask.

"i don't want you to see what happens," he explains, and you nod to give him permission. he slips the fabric onto your head, and your vision is blocked.

the last thing you see is his name-tag.

you hear the turn of a door knob, the sound of a door creaking open, and wonwoo's last words to you.

"i love you."

you feel gentle hands guide you into the room just opened, a pair of lips pressing a kiss to your temple, the warmth of wonwoo leaving you.

you're alone.

you smell the sterile antiseptic used to clean the room, a vague burning scent, your impending death.

your time is nearly up.

you taste the salt of the last tears you'll ever shed, the sour flavor of tragic love, blood.

it's almost over.

and then, nothing. it's like your senses have stopped working all of a sudden, and you're in a vacuum.

your hands tug off the eye-mask, but you can't see anything either. you realize it's the effect of the injection.

and it's good that you can't see, hear, feel, smell, or taste anymore.

otherwise you'd see the transparent glass wall separating you from a sobbing wonwoo, hand trembling above the red button that brought about your end.

you'd hear the lasers in the room charging up.

you'd feel a scorching heat all over your skin.

you'd smell your flesh burning till you're reduced to ashes, meant to be swept off.

you'd taste the kiss of death.

the timer rings; three minutes are up.

dr. jeon wonwoo ticks 756 off his checklist.

- fin.

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[aniesvision]

𝟑𝟏- 𝑭𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒖𝒍

𐂃 𝚏𝚠𝚋!𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝 𝚡 𝚏!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒕𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒄/𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕, 𝒕𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒄 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒙𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒚, 𝒄𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒅 𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓! 𝒔��𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ♡︎ 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ☕︎

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍, 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖.

I took a deep breath, looking out the car window. The empty road at dawn, with all the shops closed and signs flashing red, the low sound of the radio, and the tires in contact with the street made me feel even more that I was making a mistake.

When Matt called me, after two weeks without speaking to me, to go to his house, claiming to be alone and missing me, my heart didn't allow me to deny the opportunity to see him again. But, it was evident that he only called me for a specific reason.

I parked in front of his house, got out of my car, and walked in slow steps to the front door, knocking and looking down, one of my feet pounding incessantly on the floor in anxiety. Being here is a mistake. I know that, and I keep going back. I'm just another one falling into his trap.

I hear the door being unlocked and soon his face appears in my field of vision, a smile on his lips, staring me up and down and taking a step to the side for me to get in, and so I did. We sit on the couch, not even greeting each other, and he soon breaks the silence.

-I missed you. -He says, almost in a whisper.

I wanted to roll my eyes and remind him of all the thousand reasons why that sentence didn't make any sense, but unfortunately, I was too weak and found myself feeling the warmth in my heart that I felt every time he called me.

-I missed you, too. -I answer, with a faint smile.

He gets closer to me, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear and turning my face toward his.

-What's wrong? -He asks, stroking my cheek.

Matt could make things even more difficult when he looked at me with those eyes, which seemed to care so much about me like he didn't just use me when he wanted and discarded me when he found other options.

-Nothing. -I shrug, shaking my head and trying my best to look convincing enough so he wouldn't insist.

He smiles, leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss on my lips. Those damn butterflies always show up at the worst times. Matt pulls away only to put our foreheads together and hold my face in his hands.

-I know you're not okay, what's going on in that beautiful little head of yours? -His smile seemed genuine and concerned.

How could he pretend so well? He used all my emotions against me and I let him hurt me every time, always coming back for a few hours of attention and affection.

-It's nothing. -I answer, trying to hold my tears and turning my face in another direction.

I knew his eyes were focused on me, curious. And I also knew that if I looked back at him I would end up talking more than I should and it could all end up here. Even though we don't exactly have a serious thing, it's still something, and I wanted to hold on to the minimum, no matter how painful and pathetic it sounds.

-You know I care about you, we can talk about it, about anything. I'm here for you.

His words sounded so soft, but they felt like daggers in my heart.

-Matt, we both know that's not true. - I whisper, turning my face, a lonely tear rolling down my cheek.

-Hey, hey, what's up? Talk to me. -He asks, wiping away my tears and pulling me closer, holding my face a little tighter so I could look into his eyes.

-Sorry, I can't do that, maybe you should call someone else.

I pull away from him, get up from the couch, and walk towards the door, more tears rolling down. I feel more of an idiot than ever. I don't know why I thought I should come here knowing what I was getting myself into. When I was about to open the door, he pulled me by the wrist, turning me towards him.

-I don't know what happened, but please talk to me.

-Matt, you're just in the mood to fuck and I was a quick option, you don't have to pretend that you care, take your phone, text another girl and let me go, I can't do this anymore.

I let myself spill the words, almost begging for a little empathy for my heart. He widens his eyes and pulls me closer, shaking his head in denial.

-What?! No! That's not just why I called you, I wanted your company. -He replies, making me even sadder.

I took a deep breath, but there was no chance for me to calm down, I already felt heartbroken, even if it didn't make sense.

-Matt, I know you, you're a free soul, and you like to be single and to have different experiences. I'm not the only one in your life, and I get it, but I can't keep doing this anymore.

I looked into his blue eyes, which were darkened by the dilation of his pupils. He was so absurdly handsome and knowing that I would be so easily discarded and replaced crashed my heart into pieces. I feel his hands pulling away from my wrist just to wrap around my body, hugging me tightly.

-I never wanted to hurt you, I'm sorry, I don't want to lose you, I can't lose you.

His words sounded desperate, a little shaky. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, accepting the hug, not knowing quite yet what to do.

-Please don't go away, I need you. -Matt whispers in my ear.

Shit.

-Matt, don't do that. -I whisper back, almost begging him not to make me stay just to hurt me more.

-I love you.

My eyes widen and I immediately pull away from the hug, looking into his eyes, his features are serious, showing fear and anxiety. I've never seen him like that. My look of confusion was enough for him to step forward and hold my face in his hands, his fingers lightly stroking my cheeks.

-I found out that I had strong feelings for you when I stopped feeling anything with anyone else, it scared me so much that I stopped talking to you for two weeks, and I know I was an asshole, but please don't go away, I need you with me, I love you.

A lonely tear drips down his face, making me think that maybe he was really telling the truth, he seemed desperate for an answer, for any movement or response, his anxiety growing in his chest. I was so surprised by his words that I couldn't even process anything, not giving him an answer. He hesitantly steps forward, eyes scanning my face before stopping by my lips.

-Please. -He repeats, in a whisper.

I break out of the trance I entered when I heard his words and realize that this was all more real than it seemed, so following my heart and ignoring my mind once again, I pull him in for a kiss, which he soon reciprocates.

We only pulled away for air and he looked at me with a small smile, which made me smile too.

-I'm sorry for being a complete asshole, I promise I'll be better for you. -He says, pressing kisses all over my face.

I laugh lightly at his action, shaking my head in denial and pulling him into another tight hug.

-You better be telling the truth, or I promise that I'll cut your dick off and you'll never have a chance with any other girl again. -I tease, pointing at his face with my finger.

-Fuck the others, they are nothing compared to you. -He answers, kissing me once again.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 ✍︎

➪ @riowritesitall @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @deers4luv @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @faithlia @katie-tibo @monroesturnns @mattnchrisworld @shaquilles-0atmeal @fratbrochrisgf @dayzeandhaze @phimstarz @h3arts4harry @star-yawnznn @asherrisrandom @pip4444chris @sturniolo-fann @beansprout713 @conspiracy-ash @sturnsxbitvh @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @larallott

[throwaway-things]

In The Silence : Part 3

Without another word, you stood, your heart aching with every step as you left Spencer behind, the echo of his apology following you into the empty night.

He watched you go, his chest tight with a feeling he couldn’t quite name. He knew he had hurt you, but even after the apology, even after seeing the raw pain in your eyes, he hadn’t done enough. He hadn’t said enough. He hadn’t fixed anything.

What had he expected, anyway? A happy ending? He should’ve known better. He didn’t deserve that, not after everything. But that didn’t stop the feeling of emptiness gnawing at him, the desire to somehow make things right, even though he knew it wasn’t possible.

He thought of you leaving the bar, that soft, final glance you gave him before slipping out the door. The way your shoulders were tight, like you were preparing for whatever pain came next. He stood there, the weight of the night pressing down on him, and for a moment, he thought about letting it go. About retreating to the safety of his room, where everything was clear and simple and detached. But something inside him refused to let it go. Something urged him to move, to follow you, to make sure you weren’t leaving with more than just a hurt heart.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that you were carrying more of the weight of this than you should have been. He should have said something different. He should have been more careful with his words. But more than that—he should have known better.

Spencer’s heart raced as he made the decision. He wasn’t sure why he was doing it. He couldn’t think too much about it—he just needed to fix this.

--

You didn’t expect him to follow. Maybe you didn’t want him to. But when you turned around and saw him standing there, just inches away, you froze. Spencer didn’t say anything at first. The words felt too fragile, like they might break the delicate balance between what had already happened and what was yet to be said.

“Spencer…” you started, your voice barely a whisper. There was something different in his gaze now, something that made your heart pound despite yourself.

He stood still, his hands at his sides, his eyes searching yours as though trying to find something to anchor himself to. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until finally, he spoke.

He hesitated, as though searching for the right words, his eyes locked on yours. “I couldn’t just… walk away,” he said, his voice low, rough with emotion. “Not when I could see how much I hurt you.”

There was something different in his gaze now, something that made your heart pound despite yourself.

He hesitated, as though searching for the right words, his eyes locked on yours. "I don't know how to fix this," he said, his voice low, rough with emotion. “I can’t walk away and pretend that everything is fine. But I don't know how to make it right."

You felt a pang of vulnerability, but also the lingering ache of those unreciprocated feelings. You tried to keep a steady voice. “What do you want me to say, Spencer? I told you how I felt, and you apologized. We’re good, right?”

His gaze softened for a moment, and then it hardened again. There was something else in the way he stood now, something more raw and unguarded than you were used to seeing from him. He closed the space between you slowly, cautiously, his movements deliberate, as if trying to keep a grip on himself. “I can’t pretend like it’s just… nothing,” he said, his voice a little more strained. “I can’t just forget how much this matters. How much you matter. But I don’t know what to do with that.”

You swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. The truth was, you had always known he was a man of intellect, a man of boundaries, but tonight, in his eyes, you saw something else—something that felt like surrender.

“I’ve hurt you,” he murmured, his breath hitching slightly as he stepped even closer. “I can’t undo that. But I can’t leave things like this, either.”

There was no apology left to give. No easy answers. But it was as if saying it out loud made the tension between you feel more real, more immediate. Spencer wasn’t sure what had driven him to follow you, to stand here now. But he stepped forward, his hand reaching out in an instinct he couldn’t control. His fingers brushed lightly against your arm, and the touch sent a shiver through both of you, as though this moment was the culmination of everything that had been left unsaid.

When your gaze met his again, it was as though you saw something different in him, something deeper than just the man who had hurt you. There was still a distance between you, but now it felt like there was an understanding, unspoken but clear.

And then he kissed you.

--

Y'all, when I said I liked angst, I meant in fanfictions—not in my life. 🫠

Anyway, here's part 3, I hope you enjoy it. Part 4 is coming soon! 🩷

[anxiousthoughts365]

Hiding

CW: language, angst

'You're such a twat.'

Sirius lifted his fuzzy head from his shaking hands to find Regulus standing beside the library table he'd been camped out at for the past 16 hours. His younger brother's back was ram-rod straight, his face paler than usual with his anger. Sirius, tired and distraught, had to fight against the urge to flinch away from the other boy's near tangible disapproval.

'Nice shiner, by the way,' Regulus added, no hint of amusement in his tone as he appraised the purple swelling around Sirius' eye. It had only stopped throbbing about an hour ago, but Sirius had been purposefully pressing at it, trying to feel some of his internal pain in a more physical way. It hadn't been helping.

'What do you want, Reg?' Gods, even his voice sounded ruined. Probably from having cried for so long ...

'I want you to acknowledge, once and for all, that you're a complete and utter twat,' Regulus drawled, raising one eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest.

'What for this time?' Sirius sighed, scrubbing at his good eye. He really wasn't in the mood for this, but his relationship with Regulus was just beginning to heal, and they had both been making a concerted effort to be on their best behaviour with each other recently. He had to forcefully remind himself of that when Regulus scoffed.

'Fair question. This time, it's for what you did to Lupin.' Sirius' head snapped up so fast that he heard his neck crack. His eyes were almost painfully wide as he gaped at Regulus, who continued as though nothing had changed. 'It's one thing to abandon your family, Sirius. It's another thing entirely to actively endanger two students. One of whom has spent literal years of his life doing his utmost to avoid anyone finding out about his ... Monthly problem.'

Sirius' mind was whirling so fast with the revelations pouring out of his brother that all he could think to say was, 'You know?!'

'Of course I fucking know,' Regulus spat, his eyes - so like Sirius' own in so many way - narrowing to sharp slits. 'It doesn't take a genius to put these things together. The scarring, the fatigue and limping after the full moons, the way he looks ready to eat anyone who so much as breathes near him in the days leading up to it ...'

Despite himself, Sirius felt his heart-rate quicken, panic swamping him as he turned the words over in his head. Regulus knew. He knew about Moony, had been able to work it out. It was another risk to Remus, and Sirius couldn't stop his mind from spiralling as he assessed the danger, as he wondered what he could offer his brother to make him keep the secret. But Regulus huffed and rolled his eyes before Sirius could even speak.

'Luckily, most of the students in this place are too stupid or too self-absorbed to look into these things.' Sirius swallowed his rising bile and stared at his brother, waiting for him to go on. Regulus was frowning again as he growled, 'Calm down, I'd have nothing to gain from exposing him. Besides, it takes a pretty shitty person to betray a secret like that. Especially if it's one of your best friends' secrets.'

Sirius tried to pretend that the words weren't an icy dagger through his heart as he stuttered, 'But how ... How did you -'

'People can be quite careless with what they'll share when they think they have nothing left to lose,' Regulus murmured, his face shifting into mild disgust and annoyance as he slipped into the chair opposite Sirius'. 'I stumbled across him in the Astrology Tower last night on my Prefect's rounds, and he spilled the whole story. You're all just very lucky that it was me who ran into him at the right time.'

'I really fucked up, Reg,' Sirius muttered, looking down at his hands. The skin around his nails was cracked, dried blood crusting along the cuticles from where he'd been relentlessly picking at them.

'I would say that is a vast understatement,' Regulus sniffed. 'But I didn't just come here to tell you how pathetic and worthless you are. Seems you're already doing a good enough job of that yourself. I actually came to tell you that you should apologise to him.'

'I already tried,' Sirius grumbled, indicating his bruised face. He thought he saw Regulus bite back against a laugh, but decided to let it go. He deserved much worse than his kid brother laughing at him right now.

'Well, then you try again,' Regulus said. 'And you keep on trying, until the day that he's ready to hear it. And you do that, Sirius, because if you don't, you are going to lose yourself in all of that lovely fear and self-loathing that Mother so kindly instilled in us from an early age, and you will ruin not only yourself but everything around you. Lupin included.'

Sirius blinked, trying to wade through what Regulus was saying. Was his brother trying to be ... Nice??

'Why are you telling me this?' he asked, trying and failing to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

'Because despite what you may think, Lupin and I actually have quite a lot of things in common. And one of those things is that we both still care about you, against all evidence that it's not advisable for our wellbeing.'

The mixture of grief and hope and guilt and shame was so hopelessly tangled inside him that all Sirius could do was burst into tears. If what Regulus was saying was true, then some part of Remus still cared about him, even after the awful thing that he'd done. That meant that there could still be a chance at fixing this, at righting the pain he had caused Remus. But he knew that even if he did somehow make this right, he would still have to carry it with him for the rest of his days.

The weight of those emotions were so all-encompassing that it was a while before Sirius felt something tapping lightly at his shoulder. When he felt able to, he wiped away his tears and looked up to find that Regulus, looking deeply uncomfortable, was awkwardly patting at him, seemingly in an attempt to comfort him. The gesture was nearly enough to set him off again.

'He hates me,' Sirius breathed instead, trying to focus on one area of progress at a time.

'As he should, considering what you did,' Regulus sniped, retracting his hand and leveling his solumn gaze at Sirius. 'But that doesn't meant that he won't forgive you, one day. Not now, not tomorrow, maybe not for months. But if you give up, Sirius, he'll never understand that what you did has hurt you almost as much as it has hurt him. And if you never let him see that, then you will truly lose him forever.'

'When did you become such an expert on these things?' Sirius sniffled, reluctant to admit that what his younger brother had said was incredibly logical and also surprisingly motivating. He was suprised when the other boy's mouth flicked up momentarily in a barely-there smile as he leaned across the table towards him.

'I read,' Regulus whispered conspiratorially, almost making Sirius laugh. Almost. Then the uncharacteristic mirth was gone, and Regulus was standing, smoothing his crease-free robes. He turned away, but paused to add, 'Oh, and by the way, you can tell Potter that he can back off now.'

'You've talked to James?' Sirius breathed, his ribs aching as though someone were trying to force them apart, to split him open. Although being ignored by Remus was soul-crushing, it was still a close contest as to whether it was his silence or James' that was hurting Sirius the most.

'He has been talking at me,' Regulus clarified, then suddenly adopted a strangely lax posture, his face taking on an artificial optimism and sincerity, and Sirius blinked at the uncanny likeness of James as his brother burbled, 'I can't talk to him, because he royally fucked up, but I can't let him spiral, so you have to catch him for me.' Regulus shook his head, and immediately he was his cold, calculated self again as he stalked away, shooting back over his shoulder, 'I don't care how you do it, but he is to be informed that he has been returned to my list of people who do not exist. Consider it payment for my sage advice.'

And then Regulus was gone, sweeping away without a trace left that would indicate that he'd ever actually been there. But the things he'd said, the way he'd pulled together the floundering parts of Sirius' mind and given him a clear path out of all of this? There was no way that Sirius would ever be able to forget what his brother had done for him.

Wiping his face on his sleeve, he sighed heavily, then reached for a roll of parchment, and began to write down everything he had never said to Remus, but had always meant to, in the hopes that something might come up that he'd be able to use to explain what he'd done.

He got a little lost when the first thing that came out of his quill was, I love you.

[asharasasylum]

♡ drabble aegon targaryen booklet - entry 3

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ warnings: dark content. non con.dub con. blackmail. possessive! Aegon. incest. smut. 18+

note from me: thank you for this request @phimbkerthinker. this had me well... words can not really describe it.

The lines of consent when you first started your relationship with Aegon were blurred. Between the groping and his hands constantly wandering to places they shouldn’t, you didn’t really remember when you actually agreed to any of it. If you had to recall your first time with him, all you can recollect is his weight pressed down against yours to the point where you felt suffocating. With his strength, weight, and the way he smothered you in affection, there was hardly any way you could fight back and you’re not entirely sure if you actually did. 

You enjoyed it, didn’t you? 

It’s always the first thing that falls from Aegon’s lips after he slips out of your walls, painting your sweaty skin in soft kisses. He’s always been desperate to reassure you, to tell you this is right. 

He’s not wrong, it felt good in the moment. It always feels good. But that doesn’t make it right, especially when he’s your uncle. 

After a while you had ignored this, pushing it to the back of your mind when your nails were digging into the skin of his back, desperately trying to hold onto him as he slipped in and out of your walls. But the guilt always came rushing back when you laid beside him in the minutes after, unable to find much comfort in his breath fanning over your skin. 

It’s how you ended up here, tears staining your cheeks as you stared up at the silver haired man. Your Aegon. Only you weren’t crying about ending things with him. Tears slipped from your eyes from the countless videos he flicked through, both of you in countless positions, you even begging him at points to keep going. Each one you had been completely oblivious to his phone or whatever device he had propped into a corner of the room or the bedside table. 

He seemed to smirk when your eyes flickered from the phone, unable to watch any longer. But you could still see it out of the corner of your eye, your eyes rolling back as you arched your body off the bed with Aegon pressing sloppy kisses all over your bare chest. 

You would say this wasn't your Aegon but it was exactly him. You had just wanted to pretend for months that it wasn’t. 

Everything that happened after that happened fast and the next thing you knew you were being suffocated by Aegon’s body on top of yours. He was drawing orgasm from you time and time again, leading you to the point where there was a string of cum and your obvious arousal, keeping you attached every time he slid from your walls. With each stroke you whined uncontrollably, sure that you had been begging you to stop, to show you some mercy. But you knew you were in no position to deny him. It was clear that this was to be your punishment, paying for speaking of leaving him. 

You were a babbling mess as he forced you deeper into the mattress. You moaned wantonly as the tip of him hits a soft spot inside you, making you clench around him. 

His head snapped up to look at you, his cold gaze softening slightly at your tear stained face. 

“Hmm?” Aegon questioned, pressing his sticky forehead against yours. “Did you say something?” 

You swallowed, shaking your head as your hand reached to cup his face. All words and breath had left you at that point, unable to whine anything but his name. 

“Nothing,” he grinned, body rising at this. He gripped your hips, using them for leverage as he held onto them tightly. 

“Plea-“ The words were stolen from your throat as he began to pound into you, chasing that high that he knows both of you are teetering close to once again. 

“What was that?” He groaned, a chuckle on the edge of his tongue. His eyes fell downwards, catching the sight of your juices and his cum coating your pussy. “Such a mess.” 

You looked down, only being able to catch the sight just above his cock that glistened with your fluids. Just before he was pushing you down again, arms falling to either side of you. 

“I wish someone could walk in now,” Aegon hissed, eyebrows crossing as pleasure took over. “See the mess I make as I breed you.” 

The thought had your thighs tightening around his hips, ready to take anything else he had left to offer. 

“You like that, don’t you?” 

You shook your head, whimpering out the smallest “No.” 

“I’m going to make sure you leave this room knowing you’re mine,” he snarled, bringing his lips to your ear and grazing at the skin with his teeth. “Because you are mine.” 

Your toes curled at each relentless snap of Aegon's hips, unsure if he was pursuing his own climax or yours. But with the way he whispered in your ear, claiming you as his, had you unable to stop yourself cumming around him. 

“Fuck,” he breathed into your lips, loosing his own control as your cunt practically tried to swallow him. You could feel him spilling in your walls, fucking you carelessly as he latched his hand around your neck. With his lips pressed to yours Aegon made his claim true again. “Mine, mine, mine…”