Hello.. this time I did a reversed roles of a character, (Santiago) I did change a lot from the original plot so I decided to make it a fully new character rather than the same one with all the drastic changes, it's less spicy and more emotional I'll say that but I hope it's not TOO emotional to the point that it will make you cringe, as always enjoy darling~ (thank you •Anna!• for the request!) TOUCH STARVED X MARRIAGE IN DISTRESS "FORGIVE ME.." He had never been good at saying what he felt. Love, to him, had always been practical. He remembered every preference, replaced things before they broke, planned elaborate trips, filled the closet with clothes, and never hesitated when you wanted something. If you were unhappy, he'd find a solution. If you mentioned wanting something once, somehow it appeared days later. It was thoughtful. It was generous. And yet, sometimes, it felt painfully empty. You didn't need another expensive gift. You didn't need another vacation or another beautifully wrapped box waiting on the table. You wanted something far simpler: reassurance, warmth, the feeling that he genuinely wanted you beside him. You'd tried to explain it. He'd listened. Then he'd bought you something. Eventually, you stopped asking. You loved him. He loved you in the only ways he knew how. That was what made the distance between you so difficult to name. He wasn't cruel, and he wasn't indifferent. If anything, he cared too much—he simply didn't understand that love couldn't always be purchased, planned, or solved. Tonight, after a late work dinner and a little too much wine, you come home carrying all the words you'd swallowed for years. And for once, you aren't sure you can keep them buried.

AUTHORS NOTE WILL BE IN THE COMMENTS, APOLOGIES SAFE HAVEN COMFORT "HEY.. DON'T LISTEN TO THEM" People always say home is supposed to be the safest place you'll ever know. Sometimes, it isn't. Your parents weren't bad people. They could laugh together, eat dinner at the same table, and act as though everything was normal. Then, without warning, the smallest disagreement would become another argument. Raised voices echoed through the walls, apologies never seemed to last, and the word divorce lingered in the house often enough that it stopped feeling like a possibility and started feeling inevitable. The hardest part wasn't hearing them fight. It was pretending you hadn't. You learned to turn your music up a little louder. To keep your headphones nearby. To smile at school when someone asked how things were at home. You wanted to tell someone—anyone—but every time the words reached your throat, they stayed there. It felt wrong somehow, like you were betraying your family by admitting you were hurting. So you carried it alone. Little by little, the weight grew heavier. Some days it felt like you were drowning in a house where no one noticed you were struggling to stay above the surface. Then there was him. Your best friend. He never pushed you to explain more than you could. Somehow, he always seemed to know when another bad day had found you. Whether he showed up with your favorite snacks, dragged you outside for a walk, or simply sat beside you in comfortable silence, he became the one place where your shoulders finally relaxed. Around him, the shouting faded into the background. For a little while, you could breathe again. And somewhere between becoming your escape from reality and the person who made even your hardest days feel lighter, he quietly became something far more dangerous to your heart than just your best friend. BIO: AGE:19 NATIONALITY: HISPANIC HEIGHT: 6'0 // 1.82

AUTHORS COMMENT WILL BE ON COMMENTS, APOLOGIES SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN X ENEMIES TO LOVERS (?) "WE DON'T HAVE TO KISS.." Some rivalries faded with time. Yours never did. From the day you met, the two of you clashed over everything. Grades, competitions, group projects—if there was a way to turn something into a battle, one of you inevitably found it. Friends eventually stopped asking who started it. The answer changed depending on who you asked. By the time high school ended, both of you were convinced that graduation was the final chapter. College led you down different paths, and for years, silence replaced arguments. It should have stayed that way. Then the reunion invitation arrived. The moment you stepped inside the venue, familiar faces were easy enough to greet. Then you saw him. Across the room. He noticed you at the exact same time. One glance was enough to remind you why the two of you never got along. Hours later, laughter echoed through the room as someone suggested a game to relive old memories. Spin the bottle. It was supposed to be harmless, embarrassing even, and of course a terrible idea. but you refused to say no out of sheer pride and how could you say no? in front of him?.. Not a chance in hell. The bottle passed from hand to hand until it was finally your turn. With one spin, years of bad luck seemed to return all at once. The bottle slowed... Turned... And stopped. Pointing directly at him. The room erupted into cheers while the two of you simply stared at each other. After everything that had happened between you, neither of you expected the night to end like this. Whether you'd walk out of that closet as enemies... Or something else... Neither of you knew yet. BIO: AGE: 23 NATIONALITY: MEXICAN HEIGHT: 6'5 // 1.95

AUTHORS NOTE IN COMMENTS MESSY BY LOLA YOUNG "NOT EVERYTHING CAN BE CHAOS" OCD X ADHD COUPLE When you first met, your differences felt almost charming. You had ADHD—a mind moving faster than conversation and a habit of chasing ideas. Life with you was spontaneous and chaotic. He was the opposite. Everything had a place. His coffee mug was always in the same spot; his notes were color-coded. His routines were so precise that he could tell when something moved by an inch. Somehow, it worked. You found comfort in his steadiness; he found excitement in your unpredictability. You pulled him out of his comfort zone; he helped keep you grounded. For a while, it was perfect. But love changes once the novelty wears off. What once seemed endearing became a source of frustration. Forgotten errands turned into arguments; rearranged shelves became accusations. Disagreements piled up until you couldn't remember where they started. You felt criticized for being yourself. He felt exhausted trying to maintain control over a life that refused to stay organized. The worst part was that neither of you was wrong. You knew he wasn't trying to be cruel; he knew you weren't trying to be difficult. Yet, lately, every conversation felt like a minefield. There were still moments when you caught glimpses of who you used to be—the couple that stayed up too late laughing, the couple that believed love would be enough. The question neither of you wanted to ask was simple: Were your differences something to work through, or had they finally become too heavy to carry? INFO: AGE: 28 HEIGHT: 6'4 / 1.93 NATIONALITY: GREEK

THE CURE BY OLIVIA RODRIGO EPILEPSY X NARCOLEPSY "DON'T APOLOGIZE FOR SURVIVING.." Most people meet in classrooms. You met in waiting rooms. Not by choice, but because life kept throwing you into the same places: the health office, disability services, quiet library corners, or benches outside lecture halls where students rushed past, oblivious to your presence. At first, you were just familiar faces. The student with epilepsy. The student with narcolepsy. Neither label felt complete. People meant well, but it was exhausting being treated as fragile, as something that might break at any moment. Then there was him. For the first time, someone didn't make your condition the most important thing about you. You did the same for him. The friendship grew naturally. Study sessions turned into long conversations, then into inside jokes. Some days were good; others weren't. There were doctor's appointments and mornings where your bodies simply refused to cooperate. Neither of you tried to fix the other. You simply stayed. That became the thing he treasured most. Not because you knew exactly what he felt, but because you understood enough. Enough to stay when things got difficult, to sit beside him on bad days without explanations, and to remind him he was more than the condition people saw first. He wished he could take away your fear, your uncertainty, every bad day waiting around the corner. But love wasn't a cure or a miracle. Sometimes, love was simply the person who stayed after the storm passed. And if he had any choice in the matter, he wasn't going anywhere.

COLLEGE ROMANCE "I THINK I JUST FELL IN LOVE WITH YOU AGAIN.." If someone asked around campus who was most likely to end up together, your names would never be mentioned in the same sentence. He was impossible to miss—a college athlete who became the center of any room without trying. Confident, stubborn, and competitive, he was always surrounded by friends. Professors knew him, teammates respected him. You were the opposite. Not unpopular, just quiet. You preferred library corners and keeping to yourself. People knew you as kind, thoughtful, and difficult to read. You never chased attention, and it rarely chased you. Somehow, you kept crossing paths. Shared classes turned into casual chats before lectures. A saved seat. A coffee on your desk during long study sessions. Little things that slowly became everyday life. Everyone assumed he asked you out effortlessly. He hadn't. The night he confessed, the athlete who spoke in front of hundreds couldn't form a sentence. You sat beneath the campus lights after sunset while he fidgeted nervously with his sleeves. "I had a whole speech planned," he admitted with an embarrassed laugh. "It was supposed to be smooth." You smiled. "And?" He shook his head. "None of it matters as much as this." His confidence completely disappeared. "I really, really like you. Like... embarrassingly so." That awkward confession was perfect. Months later, he'd still deny his nerves, and you'd still remind him. Every time, he'd groan, secretly smiling because it gave him something far more important than pride. It gave him you.

AUTHORS NOTE IN COMMENTS (WARNING!!: BRIEF MENTIONS OF SUICIDE) REBORN TROPE "SORRY ABOUT THAT.." In another life, long before city lights and fireworks painted the sky, the world belonged to empires. You were born into a family of knights whose loyalty to the imperial bloodline stretched back generations. Service was not a choice—it was an inheritance. When you came of age, you were assigned to protect the empire's heir, a young noble destined to inherit the throne. At first, you were simply his guard. Years spent side by side slowly erased the distance between knight and noble. Long journeys, royal ceremonies, and quiet conversations turned duty into friendship, and friendship into something neither of you were meant to feel. The empire expected its future ruler to marry for power, not love. Neither of you cared. For a while, it felt as though the future had already been written. Then came the accusation. Treason. One day you stood proudly at his side; the next, you were dragged away in chains. He fought desperately to save you, exhausting every favor he could call upon. Yet every attempt failed. You only smiled and promised him everything would be okay. It wasn't. The execution took place at dawn. By the time evidence of your innocence surfaced, it was too late. The empire moved on. He couldn't. Grief hollowed him out until surviving became harder than dying. One night, with nothing left to hold onto, he took a dagger to his own throat. Then he woke up. Not in the afterlife, but in a world centuries beyond his own. Cars replaced horses. Towers replaced castles. Yet some things remained unchanged. The scar still marked his throat. The memories still haunted him. And you were nowhere to be found. Years passed. He searched anyway. Because if fate had been cruel enough to bring him back— then surely it hadn't brought him back alone.

hello.. this time I decided to go out of my comfort zone, explore more and I landed in the medieval times! specifically the knight/ruler trope, It has minimal angst and more so playful love, hopefully you still like it even if it's not my typical style! as always.. enjoy darling~ KNIGHT × RULER TROPE "YOUR MAJESTY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?.." two of you met long before crowns, titles, and responsibilities came between you. Back then, you were simply children racing through palace gardens, hiding from tutors when lessons grew too tedious. As heir to the empire, your future was written before your birth. His wasn't. Yet, despite the vast chasm in status, friendship came effortlessly. Years passed, and childhood succumbed to duty. The palace became a rigid machine of advisors, expectations, and scrutiny. Every choice carried weight; every glance became gossip. When you were finally assigned a personal knight, he stepped forward without hesitation. Swearing his oath upon the blade, the look you shared spoke volumes. Your childhood friend had become your protector. From that day, he rarely left your side. Through endless diplomatic meetings and royal galas, he remained your unwavering constant. But somewhere in the quiet spaces, loyalty blurred into something far more dangerous. A lingering glance. A hand brushing yours when the courts weren't looking. Whispered conversations lasting long after the palace slept. It was a love you were never supposed to feel. The empire demanded an alliance of power, not a romance with a guard. So, your bond remained hidden behind closed doors and heavily guarded secrets. Now, the crown is yours. The empire celebrates its new ruler, and nobles whisper of potential suitors. No one notices the knight standing faithfully beside the throne. No one suspects that the ruler they desperately wish to see married gave their heart away years ago— to the one person who swore to protect it.

hello.. sorry for the delay! I fell asleep after I finished but I didn't notice my phone ran out of battery so everything got deleted :'v, anyways! this time it's another request and a song too, it's more of a after-heartbreak vibe and the unavailability to move on, it's more "realistic" in a way that doesn't sugarcoat it as always.. enjoy darling~ (thank you Bakugo's wife 🌸for the request!) THAT'S SO TRUE BY GRACIE ADAMS "MOVE ON? I CAN'T DO THAT" For years, it was always the two of you—high school sweethearts everyone expected to last. Back then, forever seemed simple. Neither of you noticed the distance creeping in. It wasn't a dramatic betrayal; life just happened. Schedules clashed, dreams diverged, and responsibilities piled up. Somewhere between chasing the future and trying to hold on, the relationship slipped through the cracks. Loving each other just wasn't enough to fix it. The breakup was disappointingly ordinary. No grand goodbye, just two people realizing their shared plans no longer fit who they had become. The strangest part of heartbreak is how normal the world stays. The sun still rises, while it feels like something inside you has been ripped out. Months passed. He became good at pretending he’d moved on, but you kept appearing in the little things—a song in a grocery store, a familiar café, a lingering movie quote. The worst part wasn't missing you; it was wondering if you missed him at all. From where he stood, you seemed happier. Your social media showed nights out and new memories, proof that you’d kept going while he was still tripping over pieces of the past. He hated the jealousy, wondering how you carried the breakup so much lighter than he did. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe you were hurting, too. But late at night, when there was nothing left to distract him, he always found himself asking the same question. If moving on was supposed to get easier with time... Then why did everything still lead back to you?

hello.. I want to start of by saying how grateful I am for the last talkie! I deeply appreciate all of the kind words and encouragement as always! now.. this time I got inspired by Love Me Knot (available on webtoon, I recommend it!) though I changed a few things but the "universe" is somewhat the same, it's forced proximity ✅ enemies to lovers ✅ anyways.. enjoy darling~ STRING OF FATE AU "YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.. ITS YOU?" Everyone knew how soulmates worked. You’d spend your life blind to the red string of fate until the moment you met the person tied to the other end. Then, the crimson thread would appear. It was simple. Predictable. Except for you. For as long as you could remember, you’ve been able to see everyone’s strings. You grew up watching threads weave through crowds, stretching between strangers who hadn't met yet. You even started helping them, giving gentle nudges to bring pairs together. People joked you were fate's favorite. You laughed along, because the truth was harder: while everyone else had a thread, your own wrist was entirely bare. Eventually, you stopped looking. College made it easier to ignore the emptiness. There were classes to attend, deadlines to meet, and projects to survive. Unfortunately, one of those projects came with a massive problem. Him. The two of you had spent years getting on each other's nerves. Every conversation became an argument; every debate a bitter competition. Whether it was grades or who claimed the best library table first, neither of you could resist a challenge. You couldn't stand him, and the glare he gave you in return proved the feeling was mutual. Getting paired together for a semester-long project felt like a personal attack from the universe. The plan was simple. Meet at the library. Finish the work. Go home. No arguments, no drama, no surprises. Unfortunately for both of you, fate had other plans.

Hello... good news! school is officially over for me, so I'll be able to upload regularly now aside from that.. this time it's a mix of angst and emotional, it's based of "Say you won't let go" by James Aurther, as always.. enjoy darling~ (thank you I dimply.. dunno? for the request!) "SAY YOU WON'T LET GO.." You met in the police academy—just two recruits trying to survive endless drills, impossible schedules, and terrible cafeteria coffee. Assigned as partners, friendship came easier than expected. Long hours have a way of doing that. You learned each other's tells before you even realized it. The way he rubbed his neck when nervous. The way you tapped your fingers to think. Somewhere between late-night study sessions and training exercises, friendship shifted into something neither of you wanted to name just yet. Then came graduation. Patrol shifts replaced classrooms. The job wasn't glamorous; it was exhausting, frustrating, and sometimes heartbreaking. There were cases that followed you home long after the paperwork was done. But through every high and low, you had each other. When one stumbled, the other stayed standing. It didn't happen because of one grand gesture—it happened because day after day, you kept choosing each other. Months passed before the narcotics case landed on your desks. Weeks of dead ends and long hours finally paid off as the pieces fell into place. The arrests were supposed to be straightforward. Instead, the moment you moved in, everything descended into chaos. Suspects scattered. Orders were barked. Then came the deafening crack of gunfire. Backup arrived quickly, securing the scene and detaining the suspects. As the chaos began to settle, you actually thought it was over. Then, a strange warmth spread through your side. Your steps faltered. You’d been fine moments ago. Hadn't you? Across the pavement, his head snapped toward you. And suddenly, all he could see was you falling.

He met you somewhere quiet. Not in a way that stood out at first—just a small local café tucked away on a street most people missed. The kind of place where time moves slower, where sunlight lingers through wide windows and everything smells faintly of coffee and sweet baking. You worked there. Or maybe you just belonged there; he couldn’t quite tell. It started simply. He came in once, ordered something he didn’t care about, and noticed you without meaning to. He noticed the way you moved around the space like it was second nature. The way you spoke—soft, easy, like you weren’t trying to be heard, but people listened anyway. He came back the next day. And the next. At first, it was coincidence. Then it wasn’t. You started recognizing him—a small nod, a quiet “the usual?” that made something in his chest feel oddly important. Conversations stayed short, but they lingered. The way you leaned on the counter when you talked. The way you smiled like it wasn’t something you gave to just anyone, but also not something you guarded too tightly. It was easy. Too easy. And that’s where it began to change, because he started noticing things he shouldn’t. The way sunlight always found you first, catching in your hair. The way you hummed under your breath when it got quiet, like the silence needed filling. The way the room felt different when you weren’t there—emptier, like something important had stepped out without warning. He told himself it didn’t mean anything. People don’t just become this important out of nowhere. But you did. Slowly, quietly, without asking. Now it’s the way he lingers longer than necessary, watching you from across the room like he’s trying to memorize something he’s afraid of losing. Every small interaction matters more than it should. And the worst part? You don’t even notice. You just smile, talk, and exist like you always have, while he stands there, completely, hopelessly— gone for you.

Hello.. I was hesitant to make this one since the idea just came up out of the whim but... i hope it's good nonetheless! also.. i don't know for everyone else but I haven't been able to access comments for some time now, so I'm sorry if youve sent a request that I haven't gotten to! anyways.. this time I decided to go back to my comfort zone, ✨ spice ✨ it has comedy, childish romance, and a drop of angst as always enjoy darling~ PETTY ARGUMENT AU "WE'RE EVEN NOW, HONEY" You met him at work—during a meeting that should’ve ended twenty minutes earlier. You were presenting, calm and organized, when he interrupted you mid-sentence just to point out a “tiny formatting inconsistency” on your slide. You corrected him. He smirked. And somehow… that turned into a conversation. Then into inside jokes. Shared glances across meeting rooms. Coffee runs that lasted longer than they should’ve. What started as mild irritation turned into something easy. Comfortable. Something real. Which is why the argument two days ago was so… stupid. It started over coffee. Specifically—how you make it. You insisted your way was better. He said it tasted like “burnt regret.” You called his “overly sweet and embarrassing.” It escalated from there, somehow turning into a full debate neither of you were willing to lose. And then— silence. Two whole days of it. No texts. No teasing. No “good mornings.” Just stubbornness. And honestly? If he wanted to play that game— you could too. Which is exactly why, earlier, you poured pink hair dye into his conditioner. Not to start a war. Just to… win it. (SPOILER!!! in case it isn't obvious... he gave you a hickey)

BIRTHDAY AU "DON'T PANIC..." You stopped expecting birthdays because of your parents. Not all at once—it wasn’t dramatic. It was quieter. Subtle at first. A forgotten cake. A day brushed aside like it didn’t matter. If you ever brought it up, it was met with something dismissive. “Focus on what’s important.” “Don’t be childish.” “Celebrate when you’ve earned something.” So you learned. Learned that your birthday wasn’t something to look forward to. Learned that wanting it to matter made you selfish. Learned to swallow it down before it could show. And you got very good at that. Your parents always had expectations—clear, unmoving ones. Be better. Do more. Don’t fall behind. Every achievement just became the next baseline. Valedictorian. Honors. The “right” university. The career they approved of. You followed every step. Because every time you didn’t, the disappointment was worse than silence. Still… even when you did everything right—they never said it. Not on your birthday. Not any day. No “we’re proud of you.” No “you did well.” Just the next expectation. So birthdays became something else entirely. Not a celebration—a reminder. Of how easy it was to be overlooked. Of how something meant for you could pass without anyone caring. Eventually, you stopped caring too. Or at least, you pretended to. It became easier to treat it like just another day. Another deadline. Another reason to keep working. Until you met him. It started with work—meetings, conversations, shared silence that felt easier than it should have. He noticed things your parents never did. Not your achievements. You. The way you hesitated. The way you overworked yourself. The way you brushed off anything that might have been important. He never criticized it. He stayed. And even then… there were things you didn’t tell him. Like your birthday. Because if you never said it—he couldn’t forget it. And it wouldn’t hurt.

Hello.. surprise! I decided to make a comfort one, specifically for the deaf folks! I'm half deaf in my right ear, not completely but it's slowly getting duller :') and I wanted to create something out of the situation y'know? instead of being all sad I created something out of it! get your tissues ready cause you'll need em' for sure as always enjoy darling~ "CAN YOU HEAR ME?.." You were born into silence. Not the gentle quiet people long for, but a stillness that never shifts, no matter how loud the world becomes. Laughter was something you watched—in shaking shoulders and softening eyes. Praise lived in expressions; music was a concept that never quite translated. You learned early to live without asking for more. You read lips, watched carefully, and filled in the gaps. Your family tried, but life wasn’t generous, and hearing aids remained out of reach. You grew around the silence instead of against it. You told yourself nothing was missing. Most days, you believed it. Until you met him. At first, he didn’t fit. His words were too fast, his hands unsure. You expected him to grow tired and step back. He didn’t. He stayed. He learned slowly, stubbornly, turning mistakes into something softer. He didn’t ask you to change; he changed for you, until your silence became a place where he could exist. That’s where love found you. Not loudly, but in the quiet persistence of someone who chose you again and again. It was enough. Still, there are moments. Late at night, a fragile thought slips through: What would it be like to hear him? To truly know his voice, warm and close, filling the space between you. Then it vanishes. The silence swallows the thought. Your chest tightens. The world doesn’t shift or bend; sound has never belonged to you. The quiet settles back, heavier and cold. The dream of him, of sound, slips through your fingers. And you are left with only this: silence.

hello.. I apologize for the late update! i had to go to a hearing appt (I'm partially deaf :'v ) 2day then I got busy afterwards, anyway.. this one is a recreation! so nothing is different other than some drama! as always enjoy darling~ (thank you fire ❤️🔥 for the request!) "CAN'T OR WON'T?.." You met him before things started meaning too much. Back when life was just long summers and short worries, when your world felt predictable — safe in the way routines always are. You were the kind of person people trusted without thinking. Careful, composed, always one step ahead of your own mistakes. He was the opposite. Too loud, too reckless, too alive in ways that made people uneasy. He walked into rooms like rules didn’t apply to him, like consequences were optional. The kind of boy you were supposed to avoid. You didn’t. At first, it was accidental. Sitting near each other. Talking when there was nothing better to do. He’d grin when you corrected him, like he enjoyed getting things wrong just to hear you talk. You told yourself it was harmless. But harmless things don’t stay small forever. He started waiting for you without saying he was waiting. You started noticing when he wasn’t there. Conversations stretched longer. Silences got easier. Somewhere in between, he stopped being “that boy” and became… yours, in a way you never admitted out loud. He fell for you in a way that had no balance to it. Messy. Certain. Unavoidable. You saw it happening. You saw the way his teasing softened, the way his voice changed when it was just the two of you, the way your name sounded different coming from him. You understood it— you just refused to answer it. Because answering meant choosing. And choosing meant risking everything you already had. So you buried it. Labeled it as friendship. Comfort. Habit. Anything but love. But denial doesn’t erase feeling — it just delays it. And tonight, there’s nowhere left for either of you to hide

BE ADVISED! ⚠️ BRIEF MENTIONS OF KIDNAPPING AND DRUGGING⚠️ AU WILL IN THE COMMENTS "WELL.. THIS IS NEW" Obsession doesn’t arrive as madness. It begins at work—fluorescent lights, shared desks, the quiet rhythm of keyboards. He was supposed to be ordinary. But he never stayed that way. You noticed too much. The way he lingered near your desk with excuses that didn’t quite hold. The way conversations stretched, softening into something personal. His gaze sometimes paused on you—brief, unreadable, but never empty. Your routine began to orbit him. You learned his schedule and matched your breaks, memorizing the smallest details: the cadence of his voice, his quiet smile. It felt inevitable. Because he never pulled away, and silence starts to feel like permission. The office emptied until only the low hum of machines remained. He stayed late—just like you knew he would. You approached him, easy and familiar. A soft greeting, a small laugh… and something warm placed within reach, sweet and grounding. You stayed close while he rested, the day catching up to him. You watched the subtle shift—the delay in his reactions, the way his focus softened. You spoke gently, steadying him before he could fully gather himself. Before he could leave. By the time the building lights dimmed, he wasn’t steady. And you were there to catch him. To take him somewhere quieter, where the noise couldn’t reach him. Now the distance is gone. No desks. No coworkers. Just closed space, softened light—and him. Closer than he’s ever been. When he looks at you now, there’s no interruption. Just that same lingering gaze, held a second too long. As if he’s not entirely afraid. As if, somewhere beneath it all… he’s already begun to stay.

(Authors note will be in the comments :'v ) "I FAILED US..." REVERSE MISCARRIAGE AU PT2 Grief rarely announces itself. It slips into ordinary spaces instead — quiet kitchens, half-drunk cups of tea, the soft dent in a pillow where someone has cried themselves to sleep. You learned that slowly after meeting her. Your story together was never dramatic. It was built from small things: shared bus rides, late-night conversations, the way she laughed too hard at jokes that weren’t that funny. Somewhere between routine and chance, affection settled into something steadier. You married because life felt more certain with her beside you. Children were always a gentle possibility — not an expectation, just a dream spoken in soft voices. But eventually doctor appointments began shaping those dreams. Test results, careful explanations, the quiet realization that conceiving might not come easily. You both tried to accept it. Then one morning she stepped out of the bathroom holding a pregnancy test with trembling hands. Two lines. She cried before she could even speak, holding you tightly like joy might vanish if she let go. For weeks everything felt fragile but hopeful. Sometimes you’d find her resting a hand over her stomach, thoughtful, protective. Then one evening the world tilted. The doctor’s voice was gentle, explaining that sometimes pregnancies end early because the embryo cannot develop properly. It happens quietly, often without warning. Understanding the explanation didn’t make the loss easier. Now the apartment holds a different silence. She moves through the rooms like someone carrying invisible weight. Sometimes you catch her staring into space, as if trying to understand how something that felt so real could disappear so quickly. And the thought she won’t say out loud lingers between you. If her body couldn’t protect the life you both hoped for… how could she ever believe she’s enough for you?

(authors note will be in the comments.. sorry!) MISCARRIAGE AU "I KNOW THAT LOOK.." Some grief is loud. This kind isn’t. It lives in quiet rooms, in half-folded baby clothes that were never worn, in the empty space where hope used to sit. You and him never rushed the idea of children. When you first met, it was simpler than that. Two people learning the shape of each other’s lives. Late night talks in small apartments. Shared groceries. Laughing over burned dinners and unfinished plans. Love grew slowly — not dramatic, just steady. Marriage felt like the natural next step. So did the idea of a child. Except the world had other plans. Doctor visits turned into careful conversations. Test results became gentle apologies. Words like infertility and low chances settled quietly into your life like dust you couldn’t sweep away. You told him it was okay. He told you the same. For a long time, you both believed love alone was enough. Then one morning the test showed two lines. You stared at it until your hands started shaking. When you told him, he laughed first — a stunned, disbelieving sound — before pulling you into his arms like the moment might disappear if he didn’t hold onto it. For a little while, the world felt impossibly kind. You whispered about names. He touched your stomach like he was greeting someone already there. Then one quiet afternoon, something went wrong. The doctor spoke gently. Too gently. Early miscarriages happen because of severe chromosomal abnormalities. It isn’t something anyone causes. The pregnancy simply couldn’t continue. But explanations don’t always silence guilt. Now the apartment feels smaller. You’ve locked yourself in the bedroom for days, sitting by the window while the world keeps moving without you. And one thought lingers quietly in your chest. If your body couldn’t keep the one miracle it was given… how could you ever be enough for him?

"ARE YOU LONELY?.." February arrives dressed in pink expectations. Store windows overflow with teddy bears and cellophane roses, shelves stacked with heart-shaped chocolates that promise feelings you’re not sure you’ve ever held. Cafés dim their lights for candlelit specials meant for two, couples sharing desserts and secrets across small tables. Phones buzz with midnight confessions, surprise deliveries, and smiling photos captioned with love that looks effortless. And you notice everything. The flowers no one surprises you with. The message that never arrives. The hand you don’t have to hold while crossing streets glowing with Valentine lights. The quiet realization that romance always seems to happen somewhere else. Valentine’s Day isn’t cruel just loud where loneliness is silent. You insist it’s overrated anyway. Flowers wilt. Chocolates melt. Love songs exaggerate reality. Still, a small childish wish lingers: the hope of being chosen without asking. That’s why you invited him over. Not because your apartment feels warmer when he’s there. Not because his laughter softens quiet nights. Not because he watches you like you’re something important he hasn’t figured out how to say aloud. No. just because he’s your friend, and friends make difficult days survivable. He arrives carrying winter air and easy familiarity, slipping into your space like he belongs there. Shoes kicked off, teasing smiles traded, lamplight wrapping the room in softness. Outside, Valentine’s Day sparkles with grand gestures. Inside, something quieter lingers. unfinished, fragile, waiting. You don’t notice how his gaze lingers. You don’t notice the inches shrinking between you. You don’t notice the silence filling with possibility. While you mourn the Valentine’s Day you think you’re missing… something gentler is already beginning beside you. Maybe love doesn’t arrive loudly. Maybe it arrives quietly disguised as friendship, waiting for courage.